Myth and Romance Part 15

III

Here's to her who bears the name Of our State; May the glory of her fame Be as great!

Like a beacon, like a star, May she lead our squadrons far,-- When the hurricane of war Shakes the world,-- With her pennant in the vanward broad unfurled.

Here's to her!

_Quatrains_

I

MOTHS AND FIREFLIES

Since Fancy taught me in her school of spells I know her tricks--These are not moths at all, Nor fireflies; but masking Elfland belles Whose link-boys torch them to t.i.tania's ball.

II

AUTUMN WILD-FLOWERS

Like colored lanterns swung in Elfin towers, Wild morning-glories light the tangled ways, And, like the rosy rockets of the Fays, Burns the sloped crimson of the cardinal-flowers.

III

THE WIND IN THE PINES

When winds go organing through the pines On hill and headland, darkly gleaming, Meseems I hear sonorous lines Of Iliads that the woods are dreaming.

IV

OPPORTUNITY

Behold a hag whom Life denies a kiss As he rides questward in knighterrant-wise; Only when he hath pa.s.sed her is it his To know, too late, the Fairy in disguise.

V

DREAMS

They mock the present and they haunt the past, And in the future there is naught agleam With hope, the soul desires, that at last The heart pursuing does not find a dream.

VI

THE STARS

These--the bright symbols of man's hope and fame, In which he reads his blessing or his curse-- Are syllables with which G.o.d speaks His name In the vast utterance of the universe.

VII

BEAUTY

High as a star, yet lowly as a flower, Unknown she takes her una.s.suming place At Earth's proud masquerade--the appointed hour Strikes, and, behold, the marvel of her face.

_Processional_

Universes are the pages Of that book whose words are ages; Of that book which destiny Opens in eternity.

There each syllable expresses Silence; there each thought a guess is; In whose rhetoric's cosmic runes Roll the worlds and swarming moons.

There the systems, we call solar, Equatorial and polar, Write their lines of rus.h.i.+ng light On the awful leaves of night.

There the comets, vast and streaming, Punctuate the heavens' gleaming Scroll; and suns, gigantic, s.h.i.+ne, Periods to each starry line.

There, initials huge, the Lion Looms and measureless Orion; And, as 'neath a chapter done, Burns the Great-Bear's colophon.

Constellated, hieroglyphic, Numbering each page terrific, Fiery on the nebular black, Flames the hurling zodiac.

In that book, o'er which Chaldean Wisdom pored and many an eon Of philosophy long dead, This is all that man has read:--

He has read how good and evil,-- In creation's wild upheaval,-- Warred; while G.o.d wrought terrible At foundations red of h.e.l.l.

He has read of man and woman; Laws and G.o.ds, both beast and human; Thrones of hate and creeds of l.u.s.t, Vanished now and turned to dust.

Arts and manners that have crumbled; Cities buried; empires tumbled: Time but breathed on them its breath; Earth is builded of their death.

These but lived their little hour, Filled with pride and pomp and power; What availed them all at last?

We shall pa.s.s as they have past.

Still the human heart will dream on Love, part angel and part demon; Yet, I question, what secures Our belief that aught endures?