Whatcan a wanderer bringTo little ones loved like you?You have songs of your own to singThat are far more steadfast and true,Crumbs of pity for birdsThat flit o’er your sun-swept lawn,Songs that are dearer than all our wordsWith a love that is clear as the dawn.What should a dreamer devise,In the depths of his wayward will,To deepen the gleam of your eyesWho can dance with the Sun-child still?Yet you glanced on his lonely way,You cheered him in dream and deed,And his heart is o’erflowing, o’erflowing to-dayWith a love that—you never will need.What can a pilgrim teachTo dwellers in fairy-land?Truth that excels all speechYou murmur and understand!All he can sing you he brings;But—one thing more if he may,One thing more that the King of KingsWill take from the child on the way.Yet how can a child of the nightBrighten the light of the sun?How can he add a delightTo the dances that never are done?Ah, what if he struggles to turnOnce more to the sweet old skiesWith praise and praise, from the fetters that burn,To the God that brightened your eyes?Yes; he is weak, he will fail,Yet, what if, in sorrows apart,One thing, one should avail,The cry of a grateful heart;It has wings: they return through the nightTo a sky where the light lives yet,To the clouds that kneel on his mountain-heightAnd the path that his feet forget.What if he struggles and stillFails and struggles again?What if his broken willWhispers the struggle is vain?Once at least he has risenBecause he remembered your eyes;Once they have brought to his earthly prisonThe passion of Paradise.Kind little eyes that I love,Eyes forgetful of mine,In a dream I am bending aboveYour sleep, and you open and shine;And I know as my own grow blindWith a lonely prayer for your sake,He will hear—even me—little eyes that were kind,God bless you, asleep or awake.
Whatcan a wanderer bringTo little ones loved like you?You have songs of your own to singThat are far more steadfast and true,Crumbs of pity for birdsThat flit o’er your sun-swept lawn,Songs that are dearer than all our wordsWith a love that is clear as the dawn.What should a dreamer devise,In the depths of his wayward will,To deepen the gleam of your eyesWho can dance with the Sun-child still?Yet you glanced on his lonely way,You cheered him in dream and deed,And his heart is o’erflowing, o’erflowing to-dayWith a love that—you never will need.What can a pilgrim teachTo dwellers in fairy-land?Truth that excels all speechYou murmur and understand!All he can sing you he brings;But—one thing more if he may,One thing more that the King of KingsWill take from the child on the way.Yet how can a child of the nightBrighten the light of the sun?How can he add a delightTo the dances that never are done?Ah, what if he struggles to turnOnce more to the sweet old skiesWith praise and praise, from the fetters that burn,To the God that brightened your eyes?Yes; he is weak, he will fail,Yet, what if, in sorrows apart,One thing, one should avail,The cry of a grateful heart;It has wings: they return through the nightTo a sky where the light lives yet,To the clouds that kneel on his mountain-heightAnd the path that his feet forget.What if he struggles and stillFails and struggles again?What if his broken willWhispers the struggle is vain?Once at least he has risenBecause he remembered your eyes;Once they have brought to his earthly prisonThe passion of Paradise.Kind little eyes that I love,Eyes forgetful of mine,In a dream I am bending aboveYour sleep, and you open and shine;And I know as my own grow blindWith a lonely prayer for your sake,He will hear—even me—little eyes that were kind,God bless you, asleep or awake.
Whatcan a wanderer bringTo little ones loved like you?You have songs of your own to singThat are far more steadfast and true,Crumbs of pity for birdsThat flit o’er your sun-swept lawn,Songs that are dearer than all our wordsWith a love that is clear as the dawn.
What should a dreamer devise,In the depths of his wayward will,To deepen the gleam of your eyesWho can dance with the Sun-child still?Yet you glanced on his lonely way,You cheered him in dream and deed,And his heart is o’erflowing, o’erflowing to-dayWith a love that—you never will need.
What can a pilgrim teachTo dwellers in fairy-land?Truth that excels all speechYou murmur and understand!All he can sing you he brings;But—one thing more if he may,One thing more that the King of KingsWill take from the child on the way.
Yet how can a child of the nightBrighten the light of the sun?How can he add a delightTo the dances that never are done?Ah, what if he struggles to turnOnce more to the sweet old skiesWith praise and praise, from the fetters that burn,To the God that brightened your eyes?
Yes; he is weak, he will fail,Yet, what if, in sorrows apart,One thing, one should avail,The cry of a grateful heart;It has wings: they return through the nightTo a sky where the light lives yet,To the clouds that kneel on his mountain-heightAnd the path that his feet forget.
What if he struggles and stillFails and struggles again?What if his broken willWhispers the struggle is vain?Once at least he has risenBecause he remembered your eyes;Once they have brought to his earthly prisonThe passion of Paradise.
Kind little eyes that I love,Eyes forgetful of mine,In a dream I am bending aboveYour sleep, and you open and shine;And I know as my own grow blindWith a lonely prayer for your sake,He will hear—even me—little eyes that were kind,God bless you, asleep or awake.
ByALFRED NOYES
Poems
With an Introduction byHamilton Mabie
Cloth, 12mo, $1.25 net
“Imagination, the capacity to perceive vividly and feel sincerely, and the gift of fit and beautiful expression in verse-form—if these may be taken as the equipment of a poet, nearly all of this volume is poetry. And if to the sum of these be added the indescribable increment of charm which comes occasionally to the work of some poet, quite unearned by any of these catalogued qualities of his, you have a fair measure of Mr. Noyes at his best.... Two considerations render Mr. Noyes interesting above most poets: the wonderful degree in which the personal charm illumines what he has already written, and the surprises which one feels may be in store in his future work. His feelings have already so much variety and so much apparent sincerity that it is impossible to tell in what direction his genius will develop. In whatever style he writes,—the mystical, the historical-dramatic, the impassioned description of natural beauty, the ballad, the love lyric,—he has the peculiarity of seeming in each style to have found the truest expression of himself.”—Louisville Courier-Journal.
PUBLISHED BYTHE MACMILLAN COMPANYSixty-four and Sixty-six Fifth Avenue, New York
A History ofEnglish Poetry
BY W. J. COURTHOPE, C.B., D.Litt., LL.D.
Late Professor of Poetry in the University of Oxford
Cloth, 8vo, $3.25 net per volume
VOLUME I. The Middle Ages—Influence of the Roman Empire—The Encyclopædic Education of the Church—The Feudal System.
VOLUME II. The Renaissance and the Reformation—Influence of the Court and the Universities.
VOLUME III. English Poetry in the Seventeenth Century—Decadent Influence of the Feudal Monarchy—Growth of the National Genius.
VOLUME IV. Development and Decline of the Poetic Drama—Influence of the Court and the People.
VOLUME V. The Constitutional Compromise of the Eighteenth Century—Effects of the Classical Renaissance—Its Zenith and Decline—The Early Romantic Renaissance.
“It is his privilege to have made a contribution of great value and signal importance to the history of English Literature.”—Pall Mall Gazette.
PUBLISHED BYTHE MACMILLAN COMPANYSixty-four and Sixty-six Fifth Avenue, New York
RECENT POETRY
DAWSON—The Worker and Other Poems
ByCONINGSBY WILLIAM DAWSON
Cloth, 12mo, $1.25 net; by mail, $1.35
“The volume cannot be opened anywhere without yielding verse that will repay the reading.”—Courier-Journal.
FALLAW—Silverleaf and Oak
ByLANCE FALLAW
Cloth, 12mo, $1.25
In the title of this book “Silverleaf” stands for South Africa, and “Oak” for England.
NEIDIG—The First Wardens
Poems byWILLIAM J. NEIDIG
A volume of unusual quality of imagination and style, strongly marked with the author’s individuality.—Inter-Ocean.
IRWIN—Random Rhymes and Odd Numbers
ByWALLACE IRWIN
“Inimitable jingles, deftly apropos, droll and satiric, striking a humorous note that sounds of genius.”—Philadelphia Press.
Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, $1.50 net
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By Mr. PERCY MACKAYE
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Cloth, illustrated, $1.25 net
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Jeanne d’Arc
Illustrated, cloth, 12mo, $1.25
Presented by E. H. Sothern and Julia Marlowe
Sappho and Phaon
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The play was accepted before publication for presentation by E. H. Sothern and Madame Bertha Kalich.
Mr. STEPHEN PHILLIPS’SPOETIC PLAYS
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Nero
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Mr. WILLIAM B. YEATS’SCOLLECTED POEMS
Volume I:Lyrical PoemsVolume II:Dramas in Verse:—
“The Countess Cathleen”—“The Land of Heart’s Desire”—“The King’s Threshold”—“On Baile’s Strand” and “The Shadowy Waters.”
Each volume, cloth, $1.25 net