Above me stretched the silent, suffering sky,
Dumb with vast anguish for departed suns
That brutal Time to nothingness has hurled.
The daylight was as sad as smiles that lie
Upon the wistful, unkissed mouths of nuns,
And I stood prisoned in an awful world.
DEATH’S PROTEST
Why dost thou shrink from my approach, O Man?
Why dost thou ever flee in fear, and cling
To my false rival, Life? I do but bring
Thee rest and calm. Then wherefore dost thou ban
And curse me? Since the forming of God’s plan
I have not hurt or harmed a mortal thing,
I have bestowed sweet balm for every sting,
And peace eternal for earth’s stormy span.
The wild mad prayers for comfort sent in vain
To knock at the indifferent heart of Life,
I, Death, have answered. Knowest thou not ’tis he,
My cruel rival, who sends all thy pain
And wears the soul out in unending strife?
Why dost thou hold to him, then, spurning me?
SEPTEMBER
My life’s long radiant Summer halts at last,
And lo! beside my path way I behold
Pursuing Autumn glide: nor frost nor cold
Has heralded her presence; but a vast
Sweet calm that comes not till the year has passed
Its fevered solstice, and a tinge of gold
Subdues the vivid colouring of bold
And passion-hued emotions. I will cast
My August days behind me with my May,
Nor strive to drag them into Autumn’s place,
Nor swear I hope when I do but remember.
Now violet and rose have had their day,
I’ll pluck the soberer asters with good grace
And call September nothing but September.
WAIL OF AN OLD-TIMER
Each new invention doubles our worries an’ our troubles,
These scientific fellows are spoilin’ of our land;
With motor, wire, an’ cable, now’-days we’re scarcely able
To walk or ride in peace o’ mind, an’ ’tisn’t safe to stand.
It fairly makes me crazy to see how tarnal lazy
The risin’ generation grows—an’ science is to blame.
With telephones for talkin’, an’ messengers for walkin’,
Our young men sit an’ loaf an’ smoke, without a blush o’ shame.