I  knew  then  why  the  days

Had  seemed  more  perfect  to  me  when  the  Spring

Came  with  old  burgeoning  ;

For  somewhere  in  the  world  his  voice  was  raised,

And  somewhere  in  the  world  his  heart  was  break-

ino"  •

J11t>   >

And  never  a  flower  but  knew  it,  sweetly  taking
Beauty  more  high  and  noble  for  his  sake,
As  a  whole  wood  grows  lovelier  for  the  wail
Of  one  sad  nightingale.
Yet,  if  the  Springs  long  past

Seemed  wonderful  before  I  heard  his  voice,

I  tremble  at  the  beauty  I  shall  see

In  seasons  still  to  be,

Now  that  his  songs  are  mine  while  Life  shall  last.
O  now  for  me

New  floods  of  visions  open  suddenly.  .  ..
Rejoice,  my  heart !    Rejoice

That  you  have  heard  the  Quiet  Singer's  voice !


[3]


THE    QUIET   SINGER


ELUDED

DEEP  in  the  night  I  heard
The  rain's  mysterious  word.
(It  was  as  if  an  old  love  spoke,  a  dead  love
sobbed  and  stirred.)

Deep  in  the  night  the  great  voice  of  the  rain
Called  at  my  window-pane.
(A  voice  more  sad  shall  nevermore  sing  at  my
heart  again.)

0  deep  within  the  night,  the  last  stars  gone,

1  heard  the  rain  pass  on.
(No  lost  love  stepped  within  my  room — only  the
pallid  dawn!)


[4]


AND    OTHER   POEMS


A  DISTANT  SPRING

I    WHO  love  the  Spring  so  well
Shall  be  sleeping,  some  glad  day,
When  her  hosts  come  back  to  dwell
In  their  old,  familiar  way.
I  shall  live,  alas !  no  more
In  some  distant  April  hour,

When  the  Spring  flings  wide  her  door,
Calling  leaf,  and  bloom,  and  flower.
I  shall  sleep — but  I  shall  dream
In  my  home  beneath  the  ground,

And  my  slumbering  heart  shall  teem
With  its  visions  deep,  profound.
