Sweetened with syrop, tinctured with spice, And wines that are known to Eastern princes; And Nubian slaves, with smoking pots And all that the curious palate could wish, Are anemones, myrtles, and violets, Then at a wave of her sunny hand Of fleecy veils and floating hair And white arms lifted. Orient blood Now, when I see an extra light, PALABRAS CARIÑOSAS GOOD-NIGHT! I have to say good-night The snowy hand detains me, then But there will come a time, my love, With my farewells. Till then, good-night! HEREDITY away Into the darkness, poets of a day; But thou, O builder of enduring rhyme, Thou shalt not pass! Thy fame in every clime On earth shall live where Saxon speech has sway. Waft me this verse across the winter sea, Through light and dark, through mist and blinding sleet, O winter winds, and lay it at his feet; Though the poor gift betray my poverty, At his feet lay it: it may chance that he Will find no gift, where reverence is, unmeet. A SHADOW OF THE NIGHT CLOSE on the edge of a midsummer dawn In troubled dreams I went from land to land, Each seven-colored like the rainbow's arc, At last I came to this our cloud-hung earth, And somewhere by the seashore was a grave, A woman's grave, new-made, and heaped with flowers; And near it stood an ancient holy man That fain would comfort me, who sorrowed not For this unknown dead woman at my feet. But I, because his sacred office held My reverence, listened; and 't was thus he spake: "When next thou comest thou shalt find her still In all the rare perfection that she was. If this befalls our poor unworthy flesh, While yet he spoke, seashore and grave and priest Vanished, and faintly from a neighboring spire Fell five slow solemn strokes upon my ear. Then I awoke with a keen pain at heart, A sense of swift unutterable loss, And through the darkness reached my hand to touch Will come, and marvel why thou wastest time; Others, beholding how thy turrets climb "Twixt theirs and heaven, will hate thee all thy days; But most beware of those who come to praise. O Wondersmith, O worker in sublime And heaven-sent dreams, let art be all in all; Build as thou wilt, unspoiled by praise or blame, Build as thou wilt, and as thy light is given: Then, if at last the airy structure fall, Dissolve, and vanish take thyself no shame. They fail, and they alone, who have not striven. REMINISCENCE THOUGH I am native to this frozen zone That half the twelvemonth torpid lies, or dead; Though the cold azure arching overhead blown. I do remember . . . it was just at dusk, Came to the water-tank to fill her urn, OUTWARD BOUND I LEAVE behind me the elm-shadowed |