Calm lay the tawny sand
    Stretching a long wet hand
      To the far wave. 
    Swift to her warm waiting breast
    Longing to be possessed
    Leaps ’neath his billowy crest
      Her Lover brave.

Barter

    There is a long thin line of fading gold
      In the far West, and the transfigured leaves
      On some slight, topmost bough that sways and heaves
    Hang limp and tremulous.  Nor warm, nor cold
      The pungent air, and, ’neath the yellow haze,
      Show flushed and glad the wild, October ways.

    There is a soft enchantment in the air,
      A mystery the Summer knows not, nor
      The sturdy, frost-crowned Winter.  Nature wore
    Her blandest smile to-day, as here and there
      I wandered, elf-beset, through wood and field
      And gleaned the glories of the autumn yield.

    A bunch of purple aster, golden-rod
      Darkened by the first frost, a drooping spray
      Of scarlet barberry, and tall and gray
    The silk-cored cotton with its bursting pod,
      Some tarnished maple-boughs, and, like a flash
      Of sudden flame, a branch of mountain ash.

    She smiled, but it was not the welcoming smile
      Of frank surrender.  As a witching maid
      In gorgeous garments cunningly arrayed
    Might smile and draw them closer, hers the guile
      To let men hope, pray, labor in love’s stress
      Ere they her hidden beauties may possess.

    Deep in the heart of earth where the springs rise,
      Down with the sweet linnaea and the moss,
      In the brown thrush’s throat, where the pines toss
    In Winter’s harrying storms her secret lies. 
      Ours the chill night-dews and the waiting pain
      Ere we her fairy wealth may hope to gain.

    ’Tis so with knowledge.  Eagerly we turn
      Great Wisdom’s page, and when our clear eyes grow
      Dim in the dusk of years, and heads bend low
    Weary at last, the truth we strove to learn
      Is ours forever.  But its joy of sight
      Is dearly bought, methinks, with Youth’s delight.

    Fate, too, with chaffering voice and beckoning hand
      Doles out our happiness; we snatch at wealth
      And pay with anxious care and fading health. 
    We call for Love, and dream that we shall stand
      On ground enchanted, but, though sweet the way,
      The rocks are sharp, and grief comes with the Day.

    Even in love, Dear Heart, there is exchange
      Of gifts and griefs, and so I render thee
      Vows for thy vows, and pay unfalteringly
    What love demands, nor ever deem it strange. 
      And when the snow drifts fast, and north-winds sting
      I make no murmur, but await the Spring.

Song.

    Joy came in youth as a humming-bird,
      (Sing hey! for the honey and bloom of life!)
    And it made a home in my summer bower
    With the honeysuckle and the sweet-pea flower. 
      (Sing hey! for the blossoms and sweets of life!)