A Song of Dawn.

    In the east a lightening;
    Where the woods are chill
    Moves an unseen finger,
    Wakes a sudden thrill;

    In my soul a glimmer,
    Hush! no words are heard! 
    In heart-ambush hidden
    Chirrup of a bird;

    Tremble heart and forest
    Like a frightened fawn,
    Gleam the distant tree-tops,
    Hither comes the dawn!

Weariness.

    This April sun has wakened into cheer
      The wintry paths of thought, and tinged with gold
      These threadbare leaves of fancy brown and old. 
    This is for us the wakening of the year
      And May’s sweet breath will draw the waiting soul
      To where in distance lies the longed-for goal.

    The summer life will still all questioning,
      The leaves will whisper peace, and calm will be
      The wild, vast, blue, illimitable sea. 
    And we shall hush our murmurings, and bring
      To Nature, green below and blue above,
      A whole life’s worshipping, a whole life’s love.

    We will not speak of sometime fretting fears,
      We will not think of aught that may arise
      In future hours to cloud our golden skies. 
    Some souls there are who love their woes and tears,
      Gaining their joy by contrast, but for thee
      And me, Beloved, peace is ecstasy.

    It was not always so, there was a time
      When I would choose the rocky mountain way,
      And climb the hills of doubt to find the day. 
    Fresh effort brought fresh zest, and winter’s rime
      Chilled not but crowned endeavor, and the heat
      Of summer thrilled, and made the pulses beat.

    But now I am so weary that I turn
      From labor with a shudder, and from pain
      As from an enemy; I see no gain
    In suffering, and cleansing fires must burn
      As keenly as desire, so let me know
      Quiet with thee, and twilight’s afterglow.

    I, who have boasted of my strength and will,
      And ventured daring flights, and stood alone
      In fearless, flushed defiance, I have grown
    Humble, and seek another hand to fill
      Life’s cup, and other eyes to pierce the skies
      Of Wisdom’s dear, sad, mighty mysteries.

    Ah!  I will lie so quiet in thine arms
      I will not stir thee; and thy whisperings
      Shall teach me patience, and so many things
    I have not learned as yet.  And all alarms
      Will melt in peace when, safe from tempest’s rage
      My wind-tossed ship has found its anchorage.

A Song of Rest.

    The world may rage without,
        Quiet is here;
    Statesmen may toil and shout,
        Cynics may sneer;
    The great world—­let it go—­
    June warmth be March’s snow,
    I care not—­be it so
        Since I am here.