Part 5 (1/2)

I'm Wanda born Of the mirthful morn So I heard the red-buds whisper To the forest beech, Tho I know that each Is but a gossipy lisper.

I taunt the brook With his hair outshook O'er the weir so cool and mossy, And mock the crow As he peers below With a caw that's vain and saucy.

Where the wahoo reds And the sumac spreads Tall plumes o'er the purple privet, I beg a kiss Of the wind, tho I wis Right well he never will give it.

I hide in the nook And sunbeams look For me everywhere, like fairies.

Then out I glide By the gray deer's side-- Ha, ha, but he never tarries!

Then I fright the hare From his turfy lair And after him send a volley Of song that stops Him under the copse In wonderment at my folly.

And Autumn cries ”Be sad!” or sighs Thro her nun lips palely pouting.

But then I leap To the woods and keep It wild with gleeing and shouting.

And when the sun Has almost spun A path to his far Golconda, I climb the hill And listen, still, While he calls me--”Wanda! Wanda!”

And then I go To the valley--Oh, My dreams are sweeter than dreaming!

All night I play Over lands of Fay, In delight that seems not seeming.

IN A STORM

(_To a Petrel_)

All day long in the spindrift swinging, Bird of the sea! bird of the sea!

How I would that I had thy winging-- How I envy thee!

How I would that I had thy spirit, So to careen, joyous to cry, Over the storm and never fear it!

Into the night that hovers near it!

Calm on a reeling sky!

All day long, and the night, unresting!

Ah! I believe thy every breath Means that Life's Best comes ever breasting Peril and pain and death!

ANTAGONISTS

I

Life flung to Art this voice, of mercy bare.

”Fool, to my human earth come you, so free, To wreathe with phantom immortality Whoever climbs with pa.s.sionate lone care That s.h.i.+fting, feverous and shadow stair To Beauty--which is vainer than the sea On furious thirst, or than a mote to Me Who fill yon infinite great Everywhere?

Let them alone--my children! they are born To mart and soil and saving commerce o'er Wind, wave and many-fruited continents.

And you can feed them but of crumbs and scorn, And futile glory when they are no more.

Within my hand alone is recompense!”