Love or Fame; and Other Poems Part 15

Let peace be in the hearts that mourn-- Let "Rest" be in the grave; The Hand that swept these lives away Hath power alone to save.

Ring out, ye bells, sweet Easter bells, And ring the glory in; Ring out the sorrow, born of earth-- Ring out the stains of sin.

May.

The world is full of gems to-day, The world is full of love; The earth is strewn with star-gemmed flowers That fall from skies above.

The suns.h.i.+ne is a stream of gold That flows from flower to flower; The shadows are but pa.s.sing thoughts That mark each s.h.i.+ning hour.

The pansy nods her purple head, And sings a silent song; Her life is full of sunny hours-- The days are never long.

The rose uplifts her sun-crowned head; She is the queen of love; Her eyes behold the hidden stars That glow in skies above.

There is a fragrance in the air, A glory in the sky; Oh, who would sigh for other days, Or grieve for things gone by?

Summer Rain.

Oh, what is so pure as the glad summer rain, That falls on the gra.s.s where the sunlight has lain?

And what is so fair as the flowers that lie All bathed in the tears of the soft summer sky?

The blue of the heavens is dimmed by the rain That wears away sorrow and washes out pain; But we know that the flowers we cherish would die Were it not for the tears of the cloud-laden sky.

The rose is the sweeter when kissed by the rain, And hearts are the dearer where sorrow has lain; The sky is the fairer that rain-clouds have swept, And no eyes are so bright as the eyes that have wept.

Oh, they are so happy, these flowers that die, They laugh in the suns.h.i.+ne, oh, why cannot I?

They droop in the shadow, they smile in the sun, Yet they die in the winter when summer is done.

The lily is lovely, and fragrant her breath, But the beauty she wears is the emblem of death; The rain is so fair as it falls on the flowers, But the clouds are the shadows of sunnier hours.

Why laugh in the suns.h.i.+ne, why smile in the rain?

The world is a shadow and life is a pain; Why live in the summer, why dream in the sun, To die in the winter, when summer is done?

Oh, there is the truth that each life underlies, That baffles the poets and sages so wise; Ah! there is the bitter that lies in the sweet As we gather the roses that bloom at our feet.

Oh, flowers forgive me, I'm willful to-day, Oh, take back the lesson you gave me I pray; For I slept in the suns.h.i.+ne, I woke in the rain And it banished forever my sorrow and pain.

September.

Oh, soon the forests all will boast A crown of red and gold; A purple haze will circle round The mountains dim and old; Afar the hills, now green and fair, Their sombre robes will wear; A mist-like veil will dim the sun And linger on the air.

Already seems the earth half sad The summer-child is dead; And who can tell the dreams gone by, The tales of life unsaid?

September is a glowing time; A month of happy hours; Yet in its crimson heart lies hid The frost that kills the flowers.

Life, too, may feel the glory near And wear its crown of gold; Yet are the snows not nearest then?

Are hearts not growing old?

September is the prime of life, The glory of the year; Yet when the leaves begin to fall The winter must be near.

October.

I would not ask thee back, fair May, With all your bright-eyed flowers; Nor would I welcome April days With all their laughing showers; For each bright season of the year Can claim its own sweet pleasures; And we must take them as they come-- These gladly-given treasures.

There's music in the rain that falls In bright October weather; And we must learn to love them both-- The sun and rain together.

A mist is 'round the mountain-tops Of gold-encircled splendor; A dreamy spell is in the air Of beauty sad and tender.

The winter hath not wooed her yet, This fair October maiden; And she is free to wander still With fruits and flowers laden.

She shakes the dew-drops from her hair In one swift, golden shower; And all the woods are filled with light That gilds each autumn flower.

But soon the frost-king's icy breath Will chill her laughing beauty; And she will waken in the dusk Unto a sterner duty.

Ah! life is full of days like these, Of days too bright to perish; Yet death, like winter, claims too oft The things we most would cherish.

Falling Leaves.

There was a sound of music low-- An undertone of laughter; The song was done, and can't you guess The words that followed after?