Weeds by the Wall Part 12

How often in our search for joy below Hoping for happiness we chance on woe.

VICTORY.

They who take courage from their own defeat Are victors too, no matter how much beat.

PREPARATION.

How often hope's fair flower blooms richest where The soul was fertilized with black despair.

DISILLUSION.

Those unrequited in their love who die Have never drained life's chief illusion dry.

SUCCESS.

Success allures us in the earth and skies: We seek to win her, but, too amorous, Mocking, she flees us.--Haply, were we wise, We would not strive and she would come to us.

SCIENCE.

Miranda-like, above the world she waves The wand of Prospero; and, beautiful, Ariel the airy, Caliban the dull,-- Lightning and steam,--are her unwilling slaves.

ECHO.

Dweller in hollow places, hills and rocks, Daughter of Silence and old Solitude, Tip-toe she stands within her cave or wood, Her only life the noises that she mocks.

THE UNIVERSAL WIND.

Wild son of Heav'n, with laughter and alarm, Now East, now West, now North, now South he goes, Bearing in one harsh hand dark death and storm, And in the other, suns.h.i.+ne and a rose.

COMPENSATION.

Yea, whom He loves the Lord G.o.d chasteneth With disappointments, so that this side death, Through suffering and failure, they know h.e.l.l To make them worthy in that Heaven to dwell Of Love's attainment, where they come to be Parts of its beauty and divinity.

POPPIES.

Summer met Sleep at sunset, Dreaming within the south,-- Drugged with his soul's deep slumber, Red with her heart's hot drouth, These are the drowsy kisses She pressed upon his mouth.

HER EYES AND MOUTH.

There is no Paradise like that which lies Deep in the heavens of her azure eyes: There is no Eden here on Earth that glows Like that which smiles rich in her mouth's red rose.

HER SOUL.

To me not only does her soul suggest Palms and the peace of tropic sh.o.r.e and wood, But, oceaned far beyond the golden West, The Fortunate Islands of true Womanhood.

HER FACE.

The gladness of our Southern spring; the grace Of summer; and the dreaminess of fall Are parts of her sweet nature.--Such a face Was Ruth's, methinks, divinely spiritual.

AT THE SIGN OF THE SKULL.

_It's "Gallop and go!" and "Slow, now, slow!"

With every man in this life below-- But the things of this world are a fleeting show._

The postchaise Time that all must take Is old with clay and dust; Two horses strain its rusty brake Named Pleasure and Disgust.

Our baggage totters on its roof, Of Vanity and Care, As Hope, the postboy, spurs each hoof, Or heavy-eyed Despair.

And now a comrade with us rides, Love, haply, or Remorse; And that dim traveler besides, Gaunt Memory on a horse.

And be we king or be we kern Who ride the roads of Sin, No matter how the roads may turn They lead us to that Inn.

Unto that Inn within that land Of silence and of gloom, Whose ghastly landlord takes our hand And leads us to our room.

_It's "Gallop and go!" and "Slow, now, slow!"

With every man in this life below-- But the things of this world are a fleeting show._

A CAVALIER'S TOAST.

I.

Some drink to Friends.h.i.+p, some to Love,-- Through whom the world is fair, perdie!-- But I to one these others prove, Who leaps 'mid lions for a glove, Or dies to set another free-- I drink to Loyalty.

II.

No dagger his, no cloak and mask, Free-faced he stands so all may see; Let Friends.h.i.+p set him any task, Or Love--reward he does not ask, The deed is done whate'er it be-- So here's to Loyalty.