The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder

As down the city street
I pass at the twilight hour,
'Mid the noise of wheels and hoofs
That grind on the stones, and beat;—
Upward, by spire and tower,
Over the chimneys and roofs
Climbs my glance to the skies,

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And I see, with a glad surprise,
A mist with a core of light.
Slowly, as grows the night,—
As the sky turns blue from gray,—
Slowly it beams more bright,
And keeps with me on my way.
Soul of the twilight star
That leads me from afar,
Spirit that keener glows
As the daylight darker grows;
That leaps the chasm of blue
Where the cross-street thunders through,
And follows o'er roof and spire,
In the night-time soaring higher;
I know thee, and only I,
Thou comrade of the sky—
Star of the poet's heart,
The light and soul of his art.

MOONLIGHT

I

'T is twelve o' the clock.
The town is still;
As gray as a rock
From gable to sill
Each cottage is standing.
The narrow street
(Where the tree-tops meet),
From the woods to the landing,
Is black with shadows;
The roofs are white,
And white are the meadows;
The harbor is bright.
Can this be night?

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II

'T is twelve o' the clock.
The town is still;
As still as a stock
From harbor to hill.
The moon's broad marge
Has no stars near,
Far off how clear
They shine, how large!
Something is strange
In the air, in the light;
Come forth! Let us range
In the black, in the white,
Through the day-like night.

III

In the elm-trees all
No flutter, no twitter;
From the granite wall
The small stars glitter.
A filmy thread
My forehead brushes;
A meteor rushes
From green to red.
Naught is but the bliss
Of this dark, of this white,
Of these stars—of this kiss,
O my Love and my Light
In the day and the night.

“I CARE NOT IF THE SKIES ARE WHITE”

I care not if the skies are white,
Nor if the fields are gold;

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I care not whether 't is black or bright,
Or winds blow soft or cold;
But O the dark, dark woods,
For thee, and me—and love.

Let all but us at last depart,
The great world say farewell!
This is the kingdom of the heart,
Where only two may dwell;
And O the dark, dark woods,
For thee, and me—and love.

CONTRASTS

Thunder in the north sky,
Sunshine in the south;
Frowning eyes and forehead
And a smiling mouth.

Maiden in the morning—
Love her? Yes, but fear her!
In the moony shadows—
Nearer, nearer, nearer!

SERENADE

(FOR MUSIC)

Deep in the ocean of night
A pearl through the darkness shines;
Asleep in the garden of night
A lily's head reclines;
Afar in the forest of night
Dreams the nightingale;
Clouds in the sky of night
Make one bright star grow pale.

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O thou, sweet soul of my love,
Art my pearl, my lily-flower;
Thou, hiding heart of my love,
Art my bird, in thy maiden bower;
Heart of my only love
That shin'st in the heavens afar—
Thou, in the night of love,
Art my one, dear, trembling star.

Let me draw thee to the light,
Pearl of the shadowy sea!
Awake, thou lily of light,
Turn thy face divine on me!
Arouse thee, bird of the night,
Let thy voice to my voice reply!
Star of thy lover's night,
Shine forth or I die—I die!

LARGESS

Sweet mouth, dark eyes, deep heart—
All of beauty, all of glamor heaven could fashion
With its divinest art;
A woman's life and love, a woman's passion:

But these, at last, to win,
Land, or sea, or hell, or heaven might well be ravished
At price of any sin—
Yet freely all she on her lover lavished.

INDOORS, AT NIGHT

The window's white, the candle's red,
Show evening falleth overhead;
The candle's red, the window's black,
And earth is close in midnight's sack;

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The candle fades,
The midnight shades
Turn suddenly a starry blue—
And now to dreams, my soul, of you!

THE ABSENT LOVER

The purple of the summer fields, the dark
Of forests, and the upward mountain sweep—
Broken by crag, and scar of avalanche;
The trembling of the tops of million trees;
A world of sunlight thrilled with winds of dawn;
All these I feel, I breathe, all these I am
When with closed eyes I bring thy presence near,
And touch thy spirit with my spirit's love.

“TO-NIGHT THE MUSIC DOTH A BURDEN BEAR”

To-night the music doth a burden bear—
One word that moans and murmurs; doth exhale
Tremulously as perfume on the air
From out a rose blood-red, or lily pale.
The burden is thy name, dear soul of me,
Which the rapt melodist unknowing all
Still doth repeat through fugue and reverie;
Thy name, to him unknown, to me doth call,
And weeps my heart at every music-fall.

SANCTUM SANCTORUM

I

I thought I knew the mountain's every mood,
Gray, black with storms, or lit by lightening dawn;
But once in evening twilight came a spell

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Upon its brow, that held me with new power;
A look of unknown beauty, a deep mood
Touched with a sorrow as of human kind.

II

I thought I knew full well my comrade's face,
But a new face it was to me this day.
She sat among the worshipers and heard
The preacher's voice, yet listened not, but leaned
Her head unto a tone whose accents fell
On her sweet spirit only. Deep the awe
Struck then upon me, for my friend no more
Seemed to be near, as with forgetting gaze,
And piteous features steeped in tenderness,
She thought on things unspeakable—unknown
To all the world beside.

III

When forth doth pass,
In holy pilgrimage and awful quest,
The soul of thy soul's comrade, thou must stand
In silence by, and let it move alone
And unattended far to the inner shrine;
Thou canst but wait, and bow thine head, and pray;
And well for thee if thou may'st prove so pure,—
Ended that hour,—thy comrade thou regain'st,
Thine as before, or even more deeply thine.

THE GIFT

I

Life came to me and spoke:
“A palace for thee I have built
Wherein to take thy pleasure;
I have filled it with priceless treasure;

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Seven days shalt thou dwell therein;
Thy joy shall be keener than sin,
Without the stain of guilt—
Enter the door of oak!”

II

I entered the oaken door;
Within, no ray of light,
I saw no golden store,
My heart stood still with fright;
To curse Life was I fain;
Then one unseen before
Laid in my own her hand,
And said: “Come thou and know
This is the House of Woe;
I am Life's sister, Pain.”

III

Through many a breathless way,
In dark, on dizzying hight,
She led me through the day
And into the dreadful night.
My soul was sore distrest
And wildly I longed for rest;
Till a chamber met my sight,
Far off, and hid, and still,
With diamonds all bedight
And every precious thing;
Not even a god might will
More beauty there to bring.

IV

Then spoke Life's sister, Pain:
“Here thou as a king shalt reign,
Here shalt thou take thy pleasure,
This is the priceless treasure,

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The chamber of thy delight
Through endless day and night;
Rejoice, this is the end—
Thou hast found the heart of a friend.”

“AH, TIME, GO NOT SO SOON”

Ah, Time, go not so soon;
I would not thus be used, I would forego that boon;
Turn back, swift Time, and let
Me many a year forget;
Let her be strange once more—an unfamiliar tune,
An unimagined flower,
Not known till that mute, wondrous hour
When first we met!

“THE YEARS ARE ANGELS”

The years are angels that bring down from Heaven
Gifts of the gods. What has the angel given
Who last night vanished up the heavenly wall?
‘He gave a friend—the gods’ best gift of all.

“IN HER YOUNG EYES”

In her young eyes the children looked and found
Their happy comrade. Summer souls false-bound
In age's frosty winter,—without ruth,—
Lived once again in her their long-lost youth.

“YESTERDAY, WHEN WE WERE FRIENDS”

I

Yesterday, when we were friends,
We were scarcely friends at all;
Now we have been friends so long,
Now our love has grown so strong.

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II

When to-morrow's eve shall fall
We shall say, as night descends,
Again shall say: Ah, yesterday
Scarcely were we friends at all—
Now we have been friends so long;
Our love has grown so deep, so strong.

A NIGHT SONG

(FOR THE GUITAR)

The leaves are dark and large, Love,
'T is blue at every marge, Love;

The stars hang in the tree, Love,
I'll pluck them all for thee, Love;

The crescent moon is curled, Love,
Down at the edge of the world, Love;

I'll run and bring it now, Love,
To crown thy gentle brow, Love;

For in my song.
The summer long,

The stars, and moon, and night, Love,
Are but for thy delight, Love!

LEO

I

Over the roofs of the houses I hear the barking of Leo—
Leo the shaggy, the lustrous, the giant, the gentle New-foundland.
Dark are his eyes as the night, and black is his hair as the midnight;

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Large and slow is his tread till he sees his master returning,
Then how he leaps in the air, with motion ponderous, frightening!
Now, as I pass to my work, I hear o'er the roar of the city—
Far over the roofs of the houses, I hear the barking of Leo;
For me he is moaning and crying, for me in measure sonorous
He raises his marvelous voice, for me he is wailing and calling.

II

None can assuage his grief, tho' but for a day is the parting,
Tho' morn after morn 't is the same, tho' home every night comes his master,
Still will be grieve when we sever, and wild will be his rejoicing
When at night his master returns and lays but a hand on his forehead.
No lack will there be in the world of faith, of love, and devotion,
No lack for me and for mine, while Leo alone is living—
While over the roofs of the houses I hear the barking of Leo.

University of Virginia Library

2. PART II

THE STAR IN THE CITY