University of Virginia Library

IMPROMPTUS

EDWARD EVERETT HALE

Patriot, and sage, and lover of his kind—
The love he gives a thousandfold returns:
His is the wealth of love a great heart earns
By giving all that heart and soul and mind.

BARDS OF BRITAIN (1908)

The poets silent and the poets fled?
Not till these two that pluck the lyre are dead!
He of the patriot heart and Milton's line,
With soaring song and melody divine;
And he who makes the old days breathe again,
Yet sings the hour that is, and hearts of living men.

CALVÉ

Sweetness and strength, high tragedy and mirth;
And but one Calvé on the singing earth!

IN A CONCERT ROOM

Two streams of music beat upon my heart—
That which now is; that which was silent long:
Sacred this temple of a deathless art,
Whose very walls thrill with remembered song.

THE LONESOME WILD

Lovelier, lovelier this place
Since here she brought her maiden grace;
Dearer far this lonesome wild
Since here she wandered, here she smiled.

NEW FRIENDS AND OLD

How wonderful and sweet
New friends, as if forever known, to greet!
The warm, new, kindred touch; the dear surprise
To find an answer in new dawning eyes.
But when old friends draw nearer—
O dearer, dearer!

SHADOW AND SUN

I looked from the window with hungry eyes
On the day long longed for, that must be bright:
(That day of days, of the long, long night!)
When, O dear Shadow! by thy divining
I knew that the morn was bright:
I knew by the shadow the sun was shining.

A NAVAL SURGEON OF THE WAR FOR THE UNION

Here was as loyal soul as ever drew
The breath of battle, and the air of home:
He duty followed, lonely and far to roam;
To country, kindred, God, forever true.

A MOTHER'S PICTURE

Sweet dignity and tenderness and grace,
Devotion, and the power to draw the heart:
This her inheritance, her dower, her art;
All these are radiant in that mother face.

ON A YOUNG HERO

Too soon? But heroes always die too soon!
This, this it is that makes them dear and great.
Grant us, O kindly Heaven, the supreme boon
To give our lives too soon—not die too late!

A HERO'S BRIDE

What tragic loss! but, O, what gain sublime,
What golden memory, life-enduring pride.
What shall it matter, brief or long the time?
Love of a noble soul—a hero's bride.

TO ONE WHO PRAISED “THE GAY LIFE”

Gay!—as the hot crater's crust all lightning-lit—
But one tread more, and horror of the pit!
Gay! Yes, for a moment, and then weeping sorrow,
With wild remorse to meet the dawning morrow.

LYRIC LIVES

There are more poets than the rhyming race;
Souls beautiful of thought, and full of grace;
The spirit of poetry in them breathes and thrives;
They write not poems, but lead lyric lives.