Music and Other Poems

Music and Other Poems
by Henry van Dyke
To my son Tertius this book is dedicated
CONTENTS
ODES
Music
Peace
Victor Hugo
God of the Open Air
SONNETS
Work
Life
Love
The Child in the Garden
Love's
Reason
Portrait and Reality
The Wind of Sorrow
Patria
LEGENDS
A Legend of Service
The Vain King
LYRICS
A Mile with Me
Spring in the South
Love's Nearness

Two Schools
A Prayer for a Mother's Birthday
Indian Summer

One World
Hide and Seek
Dulcis Memoria
Autumn in the
Garden
The Message
Light Between the Trees
Reliance
GREETINGS AND INSCRIPTIONS
Katrina's Sun-dial
To
James Whitcomb Riley
A Health to Mark Twain
A Rondeau of
College Rhymes
The Mocking-bird
The Empty Quatrain

Inscriptions for a Friend's House
The Statue of Sherman by St.
Gaudens
The Sun-dial at Wells College
ODES
MUSIC
I
PRELUDE
Daughter of Psyche, pledge of that last night
When, pierced with pain
and bitter-sweet delight,
She knew her Love and saw her Lord depart,


Then breathed her wonder and her woe forlorn
Into a single cry,

and thou wast born?
Thou flower of rapture and thou fruit of grief;

Invisible enchantress of the heart;
Mistress of charms that bring relief

To sorrow, and to joy impart
A heavenly tone that keeps it
undefiled,--
Thou art the child
Of Amor, and by right divine
A throne of love is
thine,
Thou flower-folded, golden-girdled, star-crowned Queen,

Whose bridal beauty mortal eyes have never seen!
II
Thou art the Angel of the pool that sleeps,
While peace and joy lie
hidden in its deeps,
Waiting thy touch to make the waters roll
In
healing murmurs round the weary soul.
Ah, when wilt thou draw near,
Thou messenger of mercy robed in
song?
My lonely heart has listened for thee long;
And now I seem to hear
Across the crowded market-place of life,

Thy measured foot-fall, ringing light and clear
Above the unmeaning
noises and the unruly strife;
In quiet cadence, sweet and slow,
Serenely pacing to and fro,
Thy
far-off steps are magical and dear.
Ah, turn this way, come close and
speak to me!
>From this dull bed of languor set my spirit free,
And
bid me rise, and let me walk awhile with thee
III
Where wilt thou lead me first?
In what still region
Of thy domain,

Whose provinces are legion,
Wilt thou restore me to myself again,
And quench my heart's long thirst?
I pray thee lay thy golden girdle
down,
And put away thy starry crown:
For one dear restful hour
Assume a

state more mild.
Clad only in thy blossom-broidered gown
That
breathes familiar scent of many a flower,
Take the low path that leads
thro' pastures green;
And though thou art a Queen,
Be Rosamund awhile, and in thy bower,

By tranquil love and simple joy beguiled,
Sing to my soul, as
mother to her child.
IV
O lead me by the hand,
And let my heart have rest,
And bring me
back to childhood land,
To find again the long-lost band
Of playmates blithe and blest.
Some quaint, old-fashioned air,
That all the children knew,
Shall
run before us everywhere,
Like a little maid with flying hair,
To guide the merry crew.
Along the garden ways
We chase the light-foot tune,
And in and
out the flowery maze,
With eager haste and fond delays,
In pleasant
paths of June.
For us the fields are new,
For us the woods are rife
With fairy
secrets, deep and true,
And heaven is but a tent of blue
Above the game of life.
The world is far away:
The fever and the fret,
And all that makes
the heart grow gray,
Is out of sight and far away,
Dear Music, while
I hear thee play
That olden, golden roundelay,
"Remember and forget!"
V

SLEEP SONG
Forget, forget!
The tide of life is turning;
The waves of light ebb
slowly down the west:
Along the edge of dark some stars are burning

To guide thy spirit safely to an isle of rest.
A little rocking on the tranquil deep
Of song, to soothe thy yearning,

A little slumber and a little sleep,
And so, forget, forget!
Forget, forget,--
The day was long in pleasure;
Its echoes die away
across the hill;
Now let thy heart beat time to their slow measure

That swells, and sinks, and faints, and falls, till all is still.
Then, like a weary child that loves to keep
Locked in its arms some
treasure,
Thy soul in calm content shall fall asleep,
And so forget, forget.
Forget, forget,--
And if thou hast been weeping,
Let go the thoughts
that bind thee to thy grief:
Lie still, and watch the singing angels,
reaping
The golden harvest of thy sorrow, sheaf by sheaf;
Or count thy joys like flocks of snow-white sheep
That one by one
come creeping
Into the quiet fold, until thou sleep,
And so forget, forget!
Forget, forget,--
Thou art a child and knowest
So little of thy life!
But music tells
One secret of the world thro' which thou goest
To
work with morning song, to rest with evening bells:
Life is in tune with harmony so deep
That when the notes are lowest

Thou still canst lay thee down in peace and sleep,

For God will not forget.
VI
HUNTING SONG
Out of the garden of playtime, out of the bower of rest,
Fain would I
follow at daytime, music that calls to a quest.
Hark, how the galloping measure
Quickens the pulses of pleasure;

Gaily saluting the