The Project Gutenberg eBook of New York Nocturnes, and Other Poems

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: New York Nocturnes, and Other Poems

Author: Sir Charles G. D. Roberts

Release date: January 23, 2018 [eBook #56418]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Larry B. Harrison and the Online Distributed

Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was

produced from images generously made available by The

Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEW YORK NOCTURNES, AND OTHER POEMS ***

New York Nocturnes

And Other Poems

BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

VERSE:

ORION AND OTHER POEMS. (Out of Print.) Lippincott.

IN DIVERS TONES. D. Lothrop Co.

SONGS OF THE COMMON DAY. Longmans, Green & Co.

THE BOOK OF THE NATIVE. Lamson, Wolffe & Co.

PROSE:

THE CANADIANS OF OLD. From the French of de Gaspé. D. Appleton & Co.

AROUND THE CAMP FIRE. T. Y. Crowell & Co.

EARTH’S ENIGMAS. Lamson, Wolffe & Co.

A HISTORY OF CANADA. Lamson, Wolffe & Co.

THE FORGE IN THE FOREST. Lamson, Wolffe & Co.

A SISTER TO EVANGELINE. A Romance of Old Acadia. (In Press.) Lamson, Wolffe & Co.

New York Nocturnes

And Other Poems

By

Charles G. D. Roberts

Lamson, Wolffe and Company

Boston, New York and London

MDCCCXCVIII

Copyright, 1898,

By Lamson, Wolffe and Company.

All rights reserved.

THE IDEAL

To Her, when life was little worth,

When hope, a tide run low,

Between dim shores of emptiness

Almost forgot to flow,—

Faint with the city’s fume and stress

I came at night to Her.

Her cool white fingers on my face—

How wonderful they were!

More dear they were to fevered lids

Than lilies cooled in dew.

They touched my lips with tenderness,

Till life was born anew.

The city’s clamour died in calm;

And once again I heard

The moon-white woodland stillnesses

Enchanted by a bird;

The wash of far, remembered waves;

The sigh of lapsing streams;

And one old garden’s lilac leaves

Conferring in their dreams.

A breath from childhood daisy fields

Came back to me again,

Here in the city’s weary miles

Of city-wearied men.

CONTENTS

NEW YORK NOCTURNES

PAGE

The Ideal

5

In the Crowd

9

Night in a Down-town Street

10

At the Railway Station

13

Nocturnes of the Honeysuckle, I

16

Nocturnes of the Honeysuckle, II

17

My Garden

18

Presence

21

Twilight on Sixth Avenue

22

The Street Lamps

24

In Darkness

25

In the Solitude of the City

26

A Nocturne of Exile

28

A Street Vigil

30

A Nocturne of Trysting

32

In a City Room

34

A Nocturne of Consecration

36

OTHER POEMS

An Evening Communion

45

Life and Art

48

Beyond the Tops of Time

49

Dream-Fellows

55

The Atlantic Cable

61

When the Clover Blooms Again

63

At Tide Water

65

The Falling Leaves

67

Marjory

68

The Solitary Woodsman

72

The Stirrup Cup

77

Ice

78

The Hermit

79

“O Thou who bidd’st”

82

Ascription

83

New York Nocturnes

Ὦ Θεοί, τίς ἆρα Κύπρις, ἢ τίς ἵμερος, τοῦδε ξυνήψατο;

New York Nocturnes

In the Crowd

I walk the city square with thee.

The night is loud; the pavements roar.

Their eddying mirth and misery

Encircle thee and me.

The street is full of lights and cries.

The crowd but brings thee close to me.

I only hear thy low replies;

I only see thine eyes.

Night in a Down-town Street

Not in the eyed, expectant gloom,

Where soaring peaks repose

And incommunicable space

Companions with the snows;

Not in the glimmering dusk that crawls

Upon the clouded sea,

Where bourneless wave on bourneless wave

Complains continually;

Not in the palpable dark of woods

Where groping hands clutch fear,

Does Night her deeps of solitude

Reveal unveiled as here.

The street is a grim cañon carved

In the eternal stone,

That knows no more the rushing stream

It anciently has known.

The emptying tide of life has drained

The iron channel dry.

Strange winds from the forgotten day

Draw down, and dream, and sigh.

The narrow heaven, the desolate moon

Made wan with endless years,

Seem less immeasurably remote

Than laughter, love, or tears.

At the Railway Station

Here the night is fierce with light,

Here the great wheels come and go,

Here are partings, waitings, meetings,

Mysteries of joy and woe.

Here is endless haste and change,

Here the ache of streaming eyes,

Radiance of expectant faces,

Breathless askings, brief replies.

Here the jarred, tumultuous air

Throbs and pauses like a bell,

Gladdens with delight of greeting,

Sighs and sorrows with farewell.

Here, ah, here with hungry eyes

I explore the passing throng.

Restless I await your coming

Whose least absence is so long.

Faces, faces pass me by,

Meaningless, and blank, and dumb,

Till my heart grows faint and sickens

Lest at last you should not come.

Then—I see you. And the blood

Surges back to heart and brain.

Eyes meet mine,—and Heaven opens.

You are at my side again.

Nocturnes of the Honeysuckle

I

Forever shed your sweetness on the night,

Dear honeysuckle, flower of our delight!

Forever breathe the mystery of that hour

When her hand touched me, lightlier than a flower,—

And life became forever strange and sweet,

A gift to lay with worship at her feet.

Nocturnes of the Honeysuckle

II

Oh, flower of the honeysuckle,

Tell me how often the long night through

She turns in her dream to the open window,

She turns in her dream to you.

Oh, flower of the honeysuckle,

Tell me how tenderly out of the dew

You breathe her a dream of that night of wonder

When life was fashioned anew.

Oh, flower of the honeysuckle,

Tell me how long ere, the sweet night through,

She will turn not to you but to me in the darkness,

And dream and desire come true.

My Garden

I have a garden in the city’s grime

Where secretly my heart keeps summer time;

Where blow such airs of rapture on my eyes

As those blest dreamers know in Paradise,

Who after lives of longing come at last

Where anguish of vain love is overpast.

When the broad noon lies shadeless on the street,

And traffic roars, and toilers faint with heat,

Where men forget that ever woods were green,

The wonders of my garden are not seen.

Only at night the magic doors disclose

Its labyrinths of lavender and rose;

And honeysuckle, white beneath its moon,

Whispers me softly thou art coming soon;

And led by Love’s white hand upon my wrist

Beside its glimmering fountains I keep tryst.

O Love, this moving fragrance on my hair,—

Is it thy breath, or some enchanted air

From far, uncharted realms of mystery

Which I have dreamed of but shall never see?

O Love, this low, wild music in my ears,

Is it the heart-beat of thy hopes and fears,

Or the faint cadence of some fairy song

On winds of boyhood memory blown along?

O Love, what poignant ecstasy is this

Upon my lips and eyes? Thy touch,—thy kiss.

Presence

Dawn like a lily lies upon the land

Since I have known the whiteness of your hand.

Dusk is more soft and more mysterious where

Breathes on my eyes the perfume of your hair.

Waves at your coming break in livelier blue;

And solemn woods are glad because of you.

Brooks of your laughter learn their liquid notes.

Birds to your voice attune their pleading throats.

Fields to your feet grow smoother and more green;

And happy blossoms tell where you have been.

Twilight on Sixth Avenue

Over the tops of the houses

Twilight and sunset meet.

The green, diaphanous dusk

Sinks to the eager street.

Astray in the tangle of roofs

Wanders a wind of June.

The dial shines in the clock-tower

Like the face of a strange-scrawled moon.

The narrowing lines of the houses

Palely begin to gleam,

And the hurrying crowds fade softly

Like an army in a dream.

Above the vanishing faces

A phantom train flares on

With a voice that shakes the shadows,—

Diminishes, and is gone.

And I walk with the journeying throng

In such a solitude

As where a lonely ocean

Washes a lonely wood.

The Street Lamps

Eyes of the city,

Keeping your sleepless watch from sun to sun,

Is it for pity

You tremble, seeing innocence undone;

Or do you laugh, to think men thus should set

Spies on the folly day would fain forget?

In Darkness

I have faced life with courage,—but not now!

O Infinite, in this darkness draw thou near.

Wisdom alone I asked of thee, but thou

Hast crushed me with the awful gift of fear.

In the Solitude of the City

Night; and the sound of voices in the street.

Night; and the happy laughter where they meet,

The glad boy lover and the trysting girl.

But thou—but thou—I cannot find thee, Sweet!

Night; and far off the lighted pavements roar.

Night; and the dark of sorrow keeps my door.

I reach my hand out trembling in the dark.

Thy hand comes not with comfort any more.

O Silent, Unresponding! If these fears

Lie not, nor other wisdom come with years,

No day shall dawn for me without regret,

No night go uncompanioned by my tears.

A Nocturne of Exile

Out of this night of lonely noise,

The city’s crowded cries,

Home of my heart, to thee, to thee

I turn my longing eyes.

Years, years, how many years I went

In exile wearily,

Before I lifted up my face

And saw my home in thee.

I had come home to thee at last.

I saw thy warm lights gleam.

I entered thine abiding joy,—

Oh, was it but a dream?

Ere I could reckon with my heart

The sum of our delight,

I was an exile once again

Here in the hasting night.

Thy doors were shut; thy lights were gone

From my remembering eyes.—

Only the city’s endless throng!

Only the crowded cries!

A Street Vigil

Here is the street

Made holy by the passing of her feet,—

The little, tender feet, more sweet than myrrh,

Which I have washed with tears for love of her.

Here she has gone

Until the very stones have taken on

A glory from her passing, and the place

Is tremulous with memory of her face.

Here is the room

That holds the light to lighten all my gloom.

Beyond that blank white window she is sleeping

Who hath my hope, my health, my fame, in keeping.

A little peace

Here for a little, ere my vigil cease

And I turn homeward, shaken with the strife

Of hope that struggles hopeless, sick for life.

Surely the power

That lifted me from darkness that one hour

To a dear heaven whereof no word can tell

Not wantonly will thrust me back to hell.

A Nocturne of Trysting

Broods the hid glory in its sheath of gloom

Till strikes the destined hour, and bursts the bloom,

A rapture of white passion and perfume.

So the long day is like a bud

That aches with coming bliss,

Till flowers in light the wondrous night

That brings me to thy kiss.

Then, with a thousand sorrows forgotten in one hour,

In thy pure eyes and at thy feet I find at last my goal;

And life and hope and joy seem but a faint prevision

Of the flower that is thy body and the flame that is thy soul.

In a City Room

O city night of noises and alarms,

Your lights may flare, your cables clang and rush,

But in the sanctuary of my love’s arms

Your blinding tumult dies into a hush.

My doors are surged about with your unrest;

Your plangent cares assail my realm of peace;

But when I come unto her quiet breast

How suddenly your jar and clamor cease!

Then even remembrance of your strifes and pains

Diminishes to a ghost of sorrows gone,

Remoter than a dream of last year’s rains

Gusty against my window in the dawn.

A Nocturne of Consecration

I talked about you, Dear, the other night,

Having myself alone with my delight.

Alone with dreams and memories of you,

All the divine-houred summer stillness through

I talked of life, of love the always new,

Of tears, and joy,—yet only talked of you.

To the sweet air

That breathed upon my face

The spirit of lilies in a leafy place,

Your breath’s caress, the lingering of your hair,

I said—“In all your wandering through the dusk,

Your waitings on the marriages of flowers

Through the long, intimate hours

When soul and sense, desire and love confer,

You must have known the best that God has made.

What do you know of Her?”

Said the sweet air—

“Since I have touched her lips,

Bringing the consecration of her kiss,

Half passion and half prayer,

And all for you,

My various lore has suffered an eclipse.

I have forgot all else of sweet I knew.”

To the wise earth,

Kind, and companionable, and dewy cool,

Fair beyond words to tell, as you are fair,

And cunning past compare

To leash all heaven in a windless pool,

I said—“The mysteries of death and birth

Are in your care.

You love, and sleep; you drain life to the lees;

And wonderful things you know.

Angels have visited you, and at your knees

Learned what I learn forever at her eyes,

The pain that still enhances Paradise.

You in your breast felt her first pulses stir;

And you have thrilled to the light touch of her feet,

Blindingly sweet.

Now make me wise with some new word of Her.”

Said the wise earth—

“She is not all my child.

But the wild spirit that rules her heart-beats wild

Is of diviner birth

And kin to the unknown light beyond my ken.

All I can give to Her have I not given?

Strength to be glad, to suffer, and to know;

The sorcery that subdues the souls of men;

The beauty that is as the shadow of heaven;

The hunger of love

And unspeakable joy thereof.

And these are dear to Her because of you.

You need no word of mine to make you wise

Who worship at her eyes

And find there life and love forever new!”

To the white stars,

Eternal and all-seeing,

In their wide home beyond the wells of being,

I said—“There is a little cloud that mars

The mystical perfection of her kiss.

Mine, mine, She is,

As far as lip to lip, and heart to heart;

And spirit to spirit when lips and hands must part,

Can make her mine. But there is more than this,—

More, more of Her to know.

For still her soul escapes me unaware,

To dwell in secret where I may not go.

Take, and uplift me. Make me wholly Hers.”

Said the white stars, the heavenly ministers,—

“This life is brief, but it is only one.

Before to-morrow’s sun

For one or both of you it may be done.

This love of yours is only just begun.

Will all the ecstasy that may be won

Before this life its little course has run

At all suffice

The love that agonizes in your eyes?

Therefore be wise.

Content you with the wonder of love that lies

Between her lips and underneath her eyes.

If more you should surprise,

What would be left to hope from Paradise?

In other worlds expect another joy

Of Her, which blundering fate shall not annoy,

Nor time nor change destroy.”

So, Dear, I talked the long, divine night through,

And felt you in the chrismal balms of dew.

The thing then learned

Has ever since within my bosom burned—

One life is not enough for love of you.

Other Poems

An Evening Communion

The large first stars come out

Above the open hill,

And in the west the light

Is lingering still.

The wide and tranquil air

Of evening washes cool

On open hill, and vale,

And shining pool.

The calm of endless time

Is in the spacious hour,

Whose mystery unfolds

To perfect flower.

The silence and my heart

Expect a voice I know,—

A voice we have not heard

Since long ago.

Since long ago thy face,

Thy smile, I may not see,

True comrade, whom the veil

Divides from me.

But when earth’s hidden word

I almost understand,

I dream that on my lips

I feel thy hand.

Thy presence is the light

Upon the open hill.

Thou walkest with me here,

True comrade still.

My pain and my unrest

Thou tak’st into thy care.

The world becomes a dream,

And life a prayer.

Life and Art

Said Life to Art—“I love thee best

Not when I find in thee

My very face and form, expressed

With dull fidelity,

“But when in thee my craving eyes

Behold continually

The mystery of my memories

And all I long to be.”

Beyond the Tops of Time

How long it was I did not know,

That I had waited, watched, and feared.

It seemed a thousand years ago

The last pale lights had disappeared.

I knew the place was a narrow room

Up, up beyond the reach of doom.

Then came a light more red than flame;—

No sun-dawn, but the soul laid bare

Of earth and sky and sea became

A presence burning everywhere;

And I was glad my narrow room

Was high above the reach of doom.

Windows there were in either wall,

Deep cleft, and set with radiant glass,

Wherethrough I watched the mountains fall,

The ages wither up and pass.

I knew their doom could never climb

My tower beyond the tops of Time.

A sea of faces then I saw,

Of men who had been, men long dead.

Figured with dreams of joy and awe

The heavens unrolled in lambent red;

While far below the faces cried—

“Give us the dream for which we died!”

Ever the woven shapes rolled by

Above the faces hungering.

With quiet and incurious eye

I noted many a wondrous thing,—

Seas of clear glass, and singing streams,

In that high pageantry of dreams;

Cities of sard and chrysoprase

Where choired Hosannas never cease;

Valhallas of celestial frays,

And lotus-pools of endless peace;

But still the faces gaped and cried—

“Give us the dream for which we died!”

At length my quiet heart was stirred,

Hearing them cry so long in vain.

But while I listened for a word

That should translate them from their pain,

I saw that here and there a face

Shone, and was lifted from its place,

And flashed into the moving dome

An ecstasy of prismed fire.

And then said I, “A soul has come

To the deep zenith of desire!”

But still I wondered if it knew

The dream for which it died was true.

I wondered—who shall say how long?

(One heart-beat?—Thrice ten thousand years?)

Till suddenly there was no throng

Of faces to arraign the spheres,—

No more white faces there to cry

To those great pageants of the sky.

Then quietly I grew aware

Of one who came with eyes of bliss

And brow of calm and lips of prayer.

Said I—“How wonderful is this!

Where are the faces once that cried—

‘Give us the dream for which we died’?”

The answer fell as soft as sleep,—

“I am of those who, having cried

So long in that tumultuous deep,

Have won the dream for which we died.”

And then said I—“Which dream was true?

For many were revealed to you!”

He answered—“To the soul made wise

All true, all beautiful they seem.

But the white peace that fills our eyes

Outdoes desire, outreaches dream.

For we are come unto the place

Where always we behold God’s face!”

Dream-Fellows

Behind the veil that men call sleep

I came upon a golden land.

A golden light was in the leaves

And on the amethystine strand.

Amber and gold and emerald

The unimaginable wood.

And in a joy I could not name

Beside the emerald stream I stood.

Down from a violet hill came one

Running to meet me on the shore.

I clasped his hand. He seemed to be

One I had long been waiting for.

All the sweet sounds I ever heard

In his low greeting seemed to blend.

His were the eyes of my true love.

His was the mouth of my true friend.

We spoke; and the transfigured words

Meant more than words had ever meant.

Our lips at last forgot to speak,

For silence was so eloquent.

We floated in the emerald stream;

We wandered in the wondrous wood.

His soul to me was clear as light.

My inmost thought he understood.

Only to be was to be glad.

Life, like a rainbow, filled our eyes.

In comprehending comradeship

Each moment seemed a Paradise.

And often, in the after years,

I and my dream-fellow were one

For hours together in that land

Behind the moon, beyond the sun.

At last, in the tumultuous dream

That men call life, I chanced to be

One day amid the city throng

Where the great piers oppose the sea.

A giant ship was swinging off

For other seas and other skies.

Amid the voyaging companies

I saw his face, I saw his eyes.

Oh, passionately through the crowd

I thrust, and then—our glances met!

Across the widening gulf we gazed,

With white set lips, and eyes grown wet.

And all day long my heart was faint

With parting pangs and tears unwept;

Till night brought comfort, for he came

To meet me, smiling, when I slept.

Beyond the veil that men call sleep

We met, within that golden land.

He said—or I—“We grieved to-day.

But now, more wise, we understand!

“Communing in the common world,

The flesh, for us, would be a bar.

Strange would be our familiar speech;

And earth would seem no more a star.

“We’d know no more the golden leaves

Beside the amethystine deep;

We’d see no more each other’s thought

Behind the veil that men call sleep!”

The Atlantic Cable

This giant nerve, at whose command

The world’s great pulses throb or sleep,—

It threads the undiscerned repose

Of the dark bases of the deep.

Around it settle in the calm

Fine tissues that a breath might mar,

Nor dream what fiery tidings pass,

What messages of storm and war.

Far over it, where filtered gleams

Faintly illume the mid-sea day,

Strange, pallid forms of fish or weed

In the obscure tide softly sway.

And higher, where the vagrant waves

Frequent the white, indifferent sun,

Where ride the smoke-blue hordes of rain

And the long vapors lift and run,

Passes perhaps some lonely ship

With exile hearts that homeward ache,—

While far beneath is flashed a word

That soon shall bid them bleed or break.

When the Clover blooms again

“When the clover blooms again,

And the rain-birds in the rain

Make the sad-heart noon seem sweeter

And the joy of June completer

I shall see his face again!”

Of her lover over sea

So she whispered happily;

And she prayed, while men were sleeping,

“Mary, have him in thy keeping

As he sails the stormy sea!”

White and silent lay his face

In a still, green-watered place,

Where the long, gray weed scarce lifted,

And the sand was lightly sifted

O’er his unremembering face.

At Tide Water

The red and yellow of the Autumn salt-grass,

The gray flats, and the yellow-gray full tide,

The lonely stacks, the grave expanse of marshes,—

O Land wherein my memories abide,

I have come back that you may make me tranquil,

Resting a little at your heart of peace,

Remembering much amid your serious leisure,

Forgetting more amid your large release.

For yours the wisdom of the night and morning,

The word of the inevitable years,

The open Heaven’s unobscured communion,

And the dim whisper of the wheeling spheres.

The great things and the terrible I bring you,

To be illumined in your spacious breath,—

Love, and the ashes of desire, and anguish,

Strange laughter, and the unhealing wound of death.

These in the world, all these, have come upon me,

Leaving me mute and shaken with surprise.

Oh, turn them in your measureless contemplation,

And in their mastery teach me to be wise.

The Falling Leaves

Lightly He blows, and at His breath they fall,

The perishing kindreds of the leaves; they drift,

Spent flames of scarlet, gold aerial,

Across the hollow year, noiseless and swift.

Lightly He blows, and countless as the falling

Of snow by night upon a solemn sea,

The ages circle down beyond recalling,

To strew the hollows of Eternity.

He sees them drifting through the spaces dim,

And leaves and ages are as one to Him.

Marjory

(A Backwoods Ballad)

Spring, summer, autumn, winter,

Over the wild world rolls the year.

Comes June to the rose-red tamarack buds,

But Marjory comes not here.

The pastures miss her; the house without her

Grows forgotten, and gray, and old;

The wind, and the lonely light of the sun,

Are heavy with tears untold.

Spring, summer, autumn, winter,

Morning, evening, over and o’er!

The swallow returns to the nested rafter,

But Marjory comes no more.

The gray barn-doors in the long wind rattle

Hour by hour of the long white day.

The horses fret by the well-filled manger

Since Marjory went away.

The sheep she fed at the bars await her.

The milch cows low for her down the lane.

They long for her light, light hand at the milking,—

They long for her hand in vain.

Spring, summer, autumn, winter,

Morning and evening, over and o’er!

The bees come back with the willow catkins,

But Marjory comes no more.

The voice of the far-off city called to her.

Was it long years or an hour ago?

She went away, with dear eyes weeping,

To a world she did not know.

The berried pastures they could not keep her,

The brook, nor the buttercup-golden hill,

Nor even the long, long love familiar,—

The strange voice called her still.

She would not stay for the old home garden;—

The scarlet poppy, the mignonette,

The fox-glove bell, and the kind-eyed pansy,

Their hearts will not forget.

Oh, that her feet had not forgotten

The woodland country, the homeward way!

Oh, to look out of the sad, bright window

And see her come back, some day!

Spring, summer, autumn, winter,

Over the wild world rolls the year.

Comes joy to the bird on the nested rafter;

But Marjory comes not here.

The Solitary Woodsman

When the gray lake-water rushes

Past the dripping alder bushes,

And the bodeful autumn wind

In the fir-tree weeps and hushes,—

When the air is sharply damp

Round the solitary camp,

And the moose-bush in the thicket

Glimmers like a scarlet lamp,—

When the birches twinkle yellow,

And the cornel bunches mellow,

And the owl across the twilight

Trumpets to his downy fellow,—

When the nut-fed chipmunks romp

Through the maples’ crimson pomp,

And the slim viburnum flushes

In the darkness of the swamp,—

When the blueberries are dead,

When the rowan clusters red,

And the shy bear, summer-sleekened,

In the bracken makes his bed,—

On a day there comes once more

To the latched and lonely door,

Down the wood-road striding silent,

One who has been here before.

Green spruce branches for his head,

Here he makes his simple bed,

Couching with the sun, and rising

When the dawn is frosty red.

All day long he wanders wide

With the gray moss for his guide,

And his lonely axe-stroke startles

The expectant forest-side.

Toward the quiet close of day

Back to camp he takes his way,

And about his sober footsteps

Unafraid the squirrels play.

On his roof the red leaf falls,

At his door the blue-jay calls,

And he hears the wood-mice hurry

Up and down his rough log walls;

Hears the laughter of the loon

Thrill the dying afternoon,—

Hears the calling of the moose

Echo to the early moon.

And he hears the partridge drumming,

The belated hornet humming,—

All the faint, prophetic sounds

That foretell the winter’s coming.

And the wind about his eaves

Through the chilly night-wet grieves,

And the earth’s dumb patience fills him,

Fellow to the falling leaves.

The Stirrup Cup

Life at my stirrup lifted wistful eyes,

And as she gave the parting cup to me,—

Death’s pale companion for the silent sea,—

“I know,” she said, “that land and where it lies.

A pledge between us now before you go,

That when you meet me there your soul may know!”

Ice

When Winter scourged the meadow and the hill

And in the withered leafage worked his will,

The water shrank, and shuddered, and stood still,—

Then built himself a magic house of glass,

Irised with memories of flowers and grass,

Wherein to sit and watch the fury pass.

The Hermit

Above the blindness of content,

The ignorance of ease,

Inhabiting within his soul

A shrine of memories,

Between the silences of sleep

Attentively he hears

The endless crawling sob and strain,

The spending of the years.

He sees the lapsing stream go by

His unperturbed face,

Out of a dark, into a dark,

Across a lighted space.

He calls it Life, this lighted space

Upon the moving flood.

He sees the water white with tears,

He sees it red with blood.

And many specks upon the tide

He sees and marks by name,—

Motes of a day, and fools of Fate,

And challengers of fame;

With here a people, there a babe,

A blossom, or a crown,—

They whirl a little, gleam, and pass,

Or in the eddies drown.

He waits. He waits one day to see

The lapsing of the stream,

The eddying forms, the darknesses,

Dissolve into a dream.

“O Thou who bidd’st”

O Thou who bidd’st a million germs decay

That one white bloom may soar into the day,

Mine eyes unseal to see their souls in death

Borne back to Thee upon the lily’s breath.

Ascription

O Thou who hast beneath Thy hand

The dark foundations of the land,—

The motion of whose ordered thought

An instant universe hath wrought,—

Who hast within Thine equal heed

The rolling sun, the ripening seed,

The azure of the speedwell’s eye,

The vast solemnities of sky,—

Who hear’st no less the feeble note

Of one small bird’s awakening throat,

Than that unnamed, tremendous chord

Arcturus sounds before his Lord,—

More sweet to Thee than all acclaim

Of storm and ocean, stars and flame,

In favour more before Thy face

Than pageantry of time and space,

The worship and the service be

Of him Thou madest most like Thee,—

Who in his nostrils hath Thy breath,

Whose spirit is the lord of death!

Set up by J. S. Cushing & Co., and printed by Berwick & Smith, at the Norwood Press, for the publishers, Lamson, Wolffe & Co., in the year Eighteen Hundred and Ninety-eight. * * *

Transcriber's Note

Pg. 17: Added title to poem as indicated in the Table of Contents.

Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NEW YORK NOCTURNES, AND OTHER POEMS ***

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided that:

- • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”

- • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.

- • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work.

- • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™

Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

Table of Contents

New York Nocturnes And Other Poems

THE IDEAL

CONTENTS

In the Crowd

Night in a Down-town Street

At the Railway Station

Nocturnes of the Honeysuckle I

Nocturnes of the Honeysuckle II

My Garden

Presence

Twilight on Sixth Avenue

The Street Lamps

In Darkness

In the Solitude of the City

A Nocturne of Exile

A Street Vigil

A Nocturne of Trysting

In a City Room

A Nocturne of Consecration

An Evening Communion

Life and Art

Beyond the Tops of Time

Dream-Fellows

The Atlantic Cable

When the Clover blooms again

At Tide Water

The Falling Leaves

Marjory

The Solitary Woodsman

The Stirrup Cup

Ice

The Hermit

“O Thou who bidd’st”

Ascription

Transcriber's Note

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE