WINTER GERANIUMS.
O What avails the storm,
When o'er my sense this Magian flower enweaves
His charm of slumbrous summer, green and warm,
And laps me in his luxury of leaves!
O where the frost that chills,
Whilst these rich blooms burn red about my face,
Luring me out across the irised hills
Where Autumn broods o'er purple deeps of space!
A BREATHING TIME.
Here is a breathing time, and rest for a little season.
Here have I drained deep draughts out of the springs of life.
Here, as of old, while still unacquainted with toil and faintness,
Stretched are my veins with strength, fearless my heart and at peace.
I have come back from the crowd, the blinding strife and the tumult,
Pain, and the shadow of pain, sorrow in silence endured;
Fighting, at last I have fallen, and sought the breast of the Mother,—
Quite cast down I have crept close to the broad sweet earth.
Lo, out of failure triumph! Renewed the wavering courage,
Tense the unstrung nerves, steadfast the faltering knees
Weary no more, nor faint, nor grieved at heart, nor despairing,
Hushed in the earth's green lap, lulled to slumber and dreams!
BIRCH AND PADDLE.
TO BLISS CARMAN.
Friend, those delights of ours
Under the sun and showers,—
Athrough the noonday blue
Sliding our light canoe,
Or floating, hushed, at eve,
When the dim pine-tops grieve!