Riley Songs of Home | Page 6

the din that stormed within
The old guitar and violin
Has fallen
in a fainter tone
And sweeter, for your sake alone.
"Though in my absence I have stood
In festal halls a favored guest,

I missed, in this old quietude,
My worthy work and worthy rest--


By this I know that long ago
You loved me first, and told me so
In
art's mute eloquence of speech
The voice of praise may never reach.
"For lips and eyes in truth's disguise
Confuse the faces of my friends,

Till old affection's fondest ties
I find unraveling at the ends;
But
as I turn to you, and learn
To meet my griefs with less concern,

Your love seems all I have to keep
Me smiling lest I needs must
weep.
"Yet I am happy, and would fain
Forget the world and all its woes;

So set me to my tasks again,
Old Room, and lull me to repose:
And
as we glide adown the tide
Of dreams, forever side by side,
I'll hold
your hands as lovers do
Their sweethearts' and talk love to you."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE PLAINT HUMAN
Season of snows, and season of flowers,
Seasons of loss and gain!--

Since grief and joy must alike be ours,
Why do we still complain?
Ever our failing, from sun to sun,
O my intolerant brother--
We
want just a little too little of one,
And much too much of the other.
THE QUEST
I am looking for Love. Has he passed this way,
With eyes as blue as
the skies of May,
And a face as fair as the summer dawn?--
You
answer back, but I wander on,--
For you say: "Oh, yes; but his eyes
were gray,
And his face as dim as a rainy day."
Good friends, I query, I search for Love;
His eyes are as blue as the
skies above,
And his smile as bright as the midst of May
When the
truce-bird pipes: Has he passed this way?
And one says: "Ay; but his

face, alack!
Frowned as he passed, and his eyes were black."
O who will tell me of Love? I cry!
His eyes are as blue as the
mid-May sky,
And his face as bright as the morning sun;
And you
answer and mock me, every one,
That his eyes were dark, and his
face was wan,
And he passed you frowning and wandered on.
But stout of heart will I onward fare,
Knowing my Love is
beyond--somewhere,--
The Love I seek, with the eyes of blue,
And
the bright, sweet smile unknown of you;
And on from the hour his
trail is found
I shall sing sonnets the whole year round.
[Illustration]
THE MULBERRY TREE
It's many's the scenes which is dear to my mind
As I think of my
childhood so long left behind;
The home of my birth, with it's old
puncheon-floor,
And the bright morning-glories that growed round
the door;
The warped clab-board roof whare the rain it run off
Into
streams of sweet dreams as I laid in the loft,
Countin' all of the joys
that was dearest to me,
And a-thinkin' the most of the mulberry tree.
And to-day as I dream, with both eyes wide-awake,
I can see the old
tree, and its limbs as they shake,
And the long purple berries that
rained on the ground
Whare the pastur' was bald whare we trommpt it
around.
And again, peekin' up through the thick leafy shade,
I can
see the glad smiles of the friends when I strayed
With my little bare
feet from my own mother's knee
To foller them off to the mulberry
tree.
[Illustration]
Leanin' up in the forks, I can see the old rail,
And the boy climbin' up
it, claw, tooth, and toe-nail,
And in fancy can hear, as he spits on his

hands,
The ring of his laugh and the rip of his pants.
But that rail
led to glory, as certin and shore
As I'll never climb thare by that rout'
any more--
What was all the green lauruls of Fame unto me,
With
my brows in the boughs of the mulberry tree!
Then it's who can fergit the old mulberry tree
That he knowed in the
days when his thoughts was as free
As the flutterin' wings of the birds
that flew out
Of the tall wavin' tops as the boys come about?
O, a
crowd of my memories, laughin' and gay,
Is a-climbin' the fence of
that pastur' to-day,
And, a-pantin' with joy, as us boys ust to be,

They go racin' acrost fer the mulberry tree.
[Illustration]
FOR YOU
For you, I could forget the gay
Delirium of merriment,
And let my
laughter die away
In endless silence of content.
I could forget, for
your dear sake,
The utter emptiness and ache
Of every loss I ever
knew.--
What could I not forget for you?
I could forget the just deserts
Of mine own sins, and so erase
The
tear that burns, the smile that hurts,
And all that mars or masks my
face.
For your fair sake I could forget
The bonds of life that chafe
and fret,
Nor care if death were false or true.--
What could I not
forget for you?
What could I not forget? Ah me!
One thing, I know, would still abide

Forever in my