Dreams and Days | Page 3

and
mused
On love that so could live, with love refused.
And the moon hangs low in the elm.
And none could hope for her. But she had grown
Too high in love,
for hope. She bloomed alone,
Aloft in proud devotion; and secure

Against despair; so sweet her faith, so sure.
And the moon hangs low in the elm.
Her wandering lover knew not well her soul.
Discouraged, on
disaster's changing shoal
Stranding, he waited; starved on selfish
pride,
Long years; nor would obey love's homeward tide.
And the moon hangs low in the elm.
But, bitterly repenting of his sin,
Deeper at last he learned to look
within
Sweet Jessamine's true heart--when the past, dead,
Mocked
him with wasted years forever fled.
And the moon hangs low in the elm.
Late, late, oh late, beneath the tree stood two;
In trembling joy, and
wondering "Is it true?"--
Two that were each like some strange, misty
wraith:
Yet each on each gazed with a living faith.
And the moon hangs low in the elm.
Even to the tree-top sang the wedding-bell:
Even to the tree-top tolled
the passing knell.
Beneath it Walt and Jessamine were wed,


Beneath it many a year has she lain dead.
And the moon hangs low in the elm.
Here stands the great tree, still. But age has crept
Through every coil,
while Walt each night has kept
The tryst alone. Hark! with what
windy might
The boughs chant o'er her grave their burial-rite!
And the moon hangs low in the elm.
THE BOBOLINK
How sweetly sang the bobolink,
When thou, my love, wast nigh!

His liquid music from the brink
Of some cloud-fountain seemed to
sink,
Far in the blue-domed sky.
How sadly sings the bobolink!
No more my love is nigh:
Yet rise,
my spirit, rise, and drink
Once more from that cloud-fountain's
brink,--
Once more before I die!
SAILOR'S SONG, RETURNING
The sea goes up; the sky comes down.
Oh, can you spy the ancient
town,--
The granite hills so green and gray,
That rib the land behind
the bay?
O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!
Fair winds, boys: send her home!
O ye ho!
Three years? Is it so long that we
Have lived upon the lonely sea?

Oh, often I thought we'd see the town,
When the sea went up, and the
sky came down.
O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!
Even the winter winds would rouse
A memory of my father's house;


For round his windows and his door
They made the same deep,
mouthless roar.
O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!
And when the summer's breezes beat,
Methought I saw the sunny
street
Where stood my Kate. Beneath her hand
She gazed far out,
far out from land.
O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!
Farthest away, I oftenest dreamed
That I was with her. Then it
seemed
A single stride the ocean wide
Had bridged, and brought
me to her side.
O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!
But though so near we're drawing, now,
'T is farther off--I know not
how.
We sail and sail: we see no home.
Would that we into port
were come!
O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!
At night, the same stars o'er the mast:
The mast sways
round--however fast
We fly--still sways and swings around
One
scanty circle's starry bound.
O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!
Ah, many a month those stars have shone,
And many a golden morn
has flown,
Since that so solemn, happy morn,
When, I away, my
babe was born.
O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!
And, though so near we're drawing, now,
'T is farther off--I know not
how:--
I would not aught amiss had come
To babe or mother there,

at home!
O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!
'T is but a seeming: swiftly rush
The seas, beneath. I hear the crush

Of foamy ridges 'gainst the prow.
Longing outspeeds the breeze, I
know.
O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!
Patience, my mates! Though not this eve
We cast our anchor, yet
believe,
If but the wind holds, short the run:
We'll sail in with
to-morrow's sun.
O ye ho, boys. Spread her wings!
Fair winds, boys: send her home!
O ye ho!
FIRST GLANCE
A budding mouth and warm blue eyes;
A laughing face; and laughing
hair,--
So ruddy was its rise
From off that forehead fair;
Frank fervor in whate'er she said,
And a shy grace when she was still;
A bright, elastic tread;
Enthusiastic will;
These wrought the magic of a maid
As sweet and sad as the sun in
spring;--
Joyous, yet half-afraid
Her joyousness to sing.
BRIDE BROOK
Wide as the sky Time spreads his hand,
And blindly over us there

blows
A swarm of years that fill the land,
Then fade, and are as
fallen snows.
Behold, the flakes rush thick and fast;
Or are they years, that come
between,--
When, peering back into the past,
I search the legendary
scene?
Nay. Marshaled down the open coast,
Fearless of that low rampart's
frown,
The winter's white-winged, footless host
Beleaguers ancient
Saybrook town.
And when the settlers wake they stare
On woods half-buried, white
and green,
A smothered world, an empty air:
Never