Poems

Poems

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by John L. Stoddard This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: Poems
Author: John L. Stoddard
Release Date: February 15, 2004 [EBook #11091]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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POEMS
BY
JOHN L. STODDARD
1913

CONJUGI CARISSIMAE
PROEM
They called him mad,--the poor, old man, Whose white hair, worn and thin, Fell o'er his shoulders, as he played His cherished violin, Forever drawing to and fro O'er silent strings a loosened bow.
At times on his pathetic face A look of perfect rapture shone, Intent on some celestial chords, Discerned by him alone; And sometimes he would smile and pause, As if receiving loud applause.
So, many a humble poet dreams His songs will touch the human heart, And full of hope his offering lays Before the shrine of Art; Poor dreamer, may he never know That he too draws a silent bow!

CONTENTS
PROEM MY PROMENADE SOLITAIRE REINCARNATION TO THE "RING NEBULA" THE WAIF THE SILVER HERONS TO THE SPHINX YOUTH AND AGE SUNSET AT INTERLAKEN UNDER THE STARS CORSICA TO THE VENUS OF MELOS MORS LEONIS A STORY OF THE SEA OLD HYMN TUNES BEFORE A STATUE OF BUDDHA THE PILLARS OF HERCULES FRIENDSHIP TO MY DEAD DOG TO-DAY TO THE COUNTESS GUICCIOLI THE DEATH OF ANTONINUS PIUS THE BUTTERFLY AFTER THE STORM FALLEN "AEQUANIMITAS" DREAMLAND ROME REVISITED ON THE PALATINE THE FAREWELL AT FONTAINEBLEAU JAPAN--OLD AND NEW THE UNFORGOTTEN HEROES A WINTER'S DAY ON THE PROMENADE SOLITUDE OUT OF THE RANKS AUTONOMY ORIENT TO OCCIDENT THE CAPTIVE WEARINESS A MAY MONODY MY LOST FRIENDS TO SLEEP AND TO FORGET IN SILENCE AT THE VILLA OF FREDERICK III IN A COLUMBARIUM DISCOURAGEMENT M��SALLIANCE IN A MODERN CITY MY BORES GRATITUDE IN TENEBRIS TWO MOTHERS AT HOCHFINSTERM��NZ THE GIFT OF JUNO THE AWAKENING THE WINE OF LIFE LIFE'S TRILOGY MYSTERIES STAR DRIFT
TYROLEAN
OBERMAIS CONTENTMENT TO MERAN'S NORTHERN MOUNTAINS AT SUNSET POST NUBES LUX THE HOME-COMING FROM ROME MY GARDEN THE MOUNTAINS OF MERAN OSWALD, THE MINNESINGER AFTER THE VINTAGE THE PASSING MOON AUTUMN IN MERAN THE STATUE OF THE EMPRESS ELIZABETH THE OUTCASTS HEIMWEIL MY LIBRARY TOUT PASSE
BESIDE LAKE COMO
THE FAUN ISOLA COMACINA THE OLD CARRIER EVENING ON LAKE COMO DELIO PATRI ACQUA FREDDA THE POSTERN GATE UNDINE JANUARY IN THE TREMEZZINA THE WANDERER SECLUSION ONE MORE UNDER THE PLANE TREE "CONJUGI CARISSIMAE" THE PAGAN PAST RETIREMENT IN NOVEMBER THE CALL OF THE BLOOD THE CASCADE BIRD SLAUGHTER THE IRON CROWN CONTRASTS IN MY PERGOLA EVANESCENCE LAKE COMO IN AUTUMN TO THE PORTRAIT OF NAPOLEON DAY AND NIGHT PASSING AND PERMANENT TRIPOLI INFLUENCE LEO FAREWELL TO THE FAUN WAKEFULNESS VILLA PLINIANA POINT BALBIANELLO AT LENNO
PERSONALLY ADDRESSED
LINES WRITTEN FOR A GOLDEN WEDDING TO THE WALKING-STICK OF MY DEAD FRIEND TO C. TO MR. AND MRS. A.H.S. To M.C. OF ATHENS TO J.B. TO M.P. TO MISS MARY C. LOW IN MEMORIAM. G.M.M. TO HON. CHARLES M. DICKINSON TO J.C.Y. TO HON. JESSE HOLDOM
TRANSLATIONS
THE KISS TO THE FLAG EMILY'S GRAVE SERENADE TO NINON THE RED TYROLEAN EAGLE ANDREAS HOFER STREAM AND SEA
* * * * *
RACHEL

MY "PROMENADE SOLITAIRE"
Up and down in my garden fair, Under the trellis where grapes will bloom, With the breath of violets in the air, As pallid Winter for Spring makes room, I walk and ponder, free from care, In my beautiful Promenade Solitaire.
Back and forth in the checkered shade Traced by the lattice that holds the vine, With the glory of snow-capped crests displayed On the sapphire sky in a billowy line, I stroll, and ask what can compare With the charm of my Promenade Solitaire.
To and fro 'neath the nascent green Which clambers over its slender frame, With white peaks lighting up the scene, As snowfields glow with the sunset flame, I saunter, halting here and there For the view from my Promenade Solitaire.
In and out through the silence sweet, Plash of fountain and song of bird Are the only sounds in my lov'd retreat By which the air is ever stirred; It is like a long-drawn aisle of prayer, So hushed is my Promenade Solitaire.
Onward rushes the world without, But the breeze which over my garden steals Brings from it merely a distant shout Or the echo light of passing wheels; In its din and drive I have now no share, As I muse in my Promenade Solitaire.
Am I dead to the world, that I thus disdain Its moil and toil in the prime of life, When perhaps a score of years remain To win more gold in its selfish strife? Am I foolish to choose the purer air Of