Music and Other Poems | Page 9

soul, sedate
And slow, King Martin left the
helm of state,
While to the novel game with eager zest
He all his
time and all his powers addrest.
Sure such a sight was never seen
before!
For robed and crowned the monarch trod the shore;
His
golden hooks were decked with feathers fine,
His jewelled reel ran
out a silken line.
With kingly strokes he flogged the crystal stream,

Far-off the salmon saw his tackle gleam;
Careless of kings, they eyed
with calm disdain
The gaudy lure, and Martin fished in vain.
On
Friday, when the week was almost spent,
He scanned his empty creel
with discontent,
Called for a net, and cast it far and wide,
And
drew--a thousand minnows from the tide!
Then came the fisher to
conclude the match,
And at the monarch's feet spread out his catch--

A hundred salmon, greater than before--
"I win!" he cried: "the
King must pay the score."
Then Martin, angry, threw his tackle down:

"Rather than lose this game I'd lose my crown!"
Nay, thou hast lost them both," the fisher said;
And as he spoke a
wondrous light was shed
Around his form; he dropped his garments
mean,
And in his place the River-god was seen.
"Thy vanity hast
brought thee in my power,
"And thou shalt pay the forfeit at this hour:

"For thou hast shown thyself a royal fool,
"Too proud to angle, and
too vain to rule.
"Eager to win in every trivial strife,--
"Go! Thou

shalt fish for minnows all thy life!"
Wrathful, the King the scornful
sentence heard;
He strove to answer, but he only CHIRR-R-ED:

His Tyrian robe was changed to wings of blue,
His crown became a
crest,--away he flew!
And still, along the reaches of the stream,
The vain King-fisher flits,
an azure gleam,--
You see his ruby crest, you hear his jealous scream.
April, 1904.
LYRICS
A MILE WITH ME
O who will walk a mile with me
Along life's merry way?
A
comrade blithe and full of glee,
Who dares to laugh out loud and free,

And let his frolic fancy play,
Like a happy child, through the
flowers gay
That fill the field and fringe the way
Where he walks a
mile with me.
And who will walk a mile with me
Along life's weary way?
A
friend whose heart has eyes to see
The stars shine out o'er the
darkening lea,
And the quiet rest at the end o' the day,--
A friend
who knows, and dares to say,
The brave, sweet words that cheer the
way
Where he walks a mile with me.
With such a comrade, such a friend,
I fain would walk till journeys
end,
Through summer sunshine, winter rain,
And then?--Farewell,
we shall meet again!
December, 1902.
SPRING IN THE SOUTH
Now in the oak the sap of life is welling,
Tho' to the bough the rusty
leafage clings;
Now on the elm the misty buds are swelling,
See

how the pine-wood grows alive with wings;
Blue-jays fluttering,
yodeling and crying,
Meadow-larks sailing low above the faded grass,

Red-birds whistling clear, silent robins flying,--
Who has waked
the birds up? What has come to pass?
Last year's cotton-plants, desolately bowing,
Tremble in the
March-wind, ragged and forlorn;
Red are the hill-sides of the early
ploughing,
Gray are the lowlands, waiting for the corn.
Earth seems
asleep still, but she's only feigning;
Deep in her bosom thrills a sweet
unrest.
Look where the jasmine lavishly is raining
Jove's golden
shower into Danae's breast!
Now on the plum the snowy bloom is sifted,
Now on the peach the
glory of the rose,
Over the hills a tender haze is drifted,
Full to the
brim the yellow river flows.
Dark cypress boughs with vivid jewels
glisten,
Greener than emeralds shining in the sun.
Who has wrought
the magic? Listen, sweetheart, listen!
The mocking-bird is singing
Spring has begun.
Hark, in his song no tremor of misgiving!
All of his heart he pours
into his lay,--
"Love, love, love, and pure delight of living:
Winter
is forgotten: here's a happy day!"
Fair in your face I read the flowery
presage,
Snowy on your brow and rosy on your mouth:
Sweet in
your voice I hear the season's message,--
Love, love, love, and Spring
in the South!
March, 1904.
LOVE'S NEARNESS
I think of thee, when golden sunbeams shimmer
Across the sea;
And when the waves reflect the moon's pale glimmer,
I think of thee.

I see thy form, when down the distant highway
The dust-clouds rise;
In deepest night, above the mountain by-way,
I see thine eyes.
I hear thee when the ocean-tides returning
Loudly rejoice;
And on the lonely moor, in stillness yearning,
I hear thy voice.
I dwell with thee: though thou art far removed,
Yet art thou near.
The sun goes down, the stars shine out,--
Beloved,
Ah, wert thou here!
>From Goethe: "Nahe des Geliebten."
TWO SCHOOLS
I put my heart to school
In the world, where men grow wise,
"Go
out," I said, "and learn the rule;
"Come back when you win a prize."
My heart came back again:
"Now