MY store is spent; I am fain to borrow:"O Giorno Felice!" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Harper's Monthly Magazine (July 1912), The Unconquered Air (1912) and Poems (1916) Volume I.
Give me to drink of a vintage fine!
Pour me a draught—a draught of To-morrow,
Brimming and fresh from a rock-cool shrine:
Nectar of earth,
For the longing and dearth
Of a heart still young,
That waiteth and waiteth a song unsung!
Glad be the strain!
In the cup pour no pain:
Leave at the brim not a taste of sorrow!
Spring would I sing! For the bird flies free,
The sap is astir in the oldest tree,
And the Maiden weaves,
Mid a laughter of leaves,
The bud and the blossom of joys to be! . . .
Ay, Winter took all;
But I heard the Spring call,
And my heart, denied,
With a rapturous shiver—
Like that that makes eager the pulse of the river
When something at last tells it Winter is past—
Awoke at the sound of her voice, and replied.
A libation to Spring!—ah, quickly! pour fast!
She is there! She is here!—in the sky—on the sea—
In the Morning-Land waiting my heart and me!
Wednesday, March 21, 2018
Tuesday, March 20, 2018
THE wild bird's first exultant strain"Persephone" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Lippincott's Monthly Magazine (April 1901), Mine and Thine (1904) and Poems (1916) Volume II.
Says,—"Winter is over—over!"
And spring returns to the world again,
With breath as of lilac and clover.
With a certain soft, appealing grace
(Surely some sorrow hath kissed her!)
She gives to our vision her girlish face,
And we know how we've missed her—missed her!
For on a day she went away,
Long ere the leaves were falling,
And came no more for the whitethroat's lay,
Or the pewee's plaintive calling.
In tender tints on her broidered shoon
Blossomed the leaves of the myrtle,
And silky buds of the darling June
Were gathered up in her kirtle;
And fair, fair, fair, in her sunlit hair
Were violets intertwining,
That seemed more fresh and unfading there
Than with dewdrops on them shining!
She hid them all in her dim retreat;
But, heart! a truce to sighing;
She's here—incomparably sweet,
Unchanging and undying!
We see her brow, and we rejoice,
Her cheek, as it pales and flushes,
We hear once more in her thrilling voice
The note of the woodland thrushes;
And through her lashes, tear-empearled,
A mystic light is breaking,
And all the love of the whole wide world
Seems in her eyes awaking!
Monday, March 19, 2018
WE celebrate with pomp and pride"Thomas Bailey Aldrich" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in The Writer (April 1907) and Lyrics of Life (1909).
A Cromwell or a Wellington;
We venerate who, self-denied,
Earth's higher victories have won;
But through the all-remembering years,
We love who give us smiles and tears.
The voice that charmed us may grow still,
The poet cease to weave his spell:
Ascended to the skyey hill
Remote, where the immortals dwell,—
Time to our thought but more endears
Who gave us smiles and gave us tears.
Sunday, March 18, 2018
HOW do you know the Spring is nigh,"Divination" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in The Unconquered Air (1912) and Poems (1916) Volume I.
Heart, my heart?
Is it a something in the sky?
Is it a perfume wafted by?
Or is it your own longing's cry—
Heart, my heart?
Oh, yes, I know you 've ways to tell,
Heart, my heart,
When Spring released from Winter's spell
Sows amaranth and asphodel:
Ways tender and impalpable,
Heart, my heart:
Signs that have never yet betrayed,
Heart, my heart:—
The bluebird's note in a leafless glade,
An answering rapture, half afraid,
The dream-filled eyes of a shy, sweet maid,—
Heart, my heart!
Saturday, March 17, 2018
O LITTLE plant, so meek and slight,"The Irish Shamrock in South Africa" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Mine and Thine (1904) and Poems (1916) Volume I.
Tinct with the emerald of the sea
Which like a mother, day and night,
Croons melodies to thee;
Emblem of Erin's hope and pride!
Though crushed and trampled under foot,
Thou still art found
The meadows round,
Up-springing from thine own sweet root!
Of sorrow thou hast been the sign
Through weary, unforgiving years;
The dews upon thy tender vine
Have seemed thy country's tears;
Now, now, forevermore, thou art
Symbol of all that's brave and true—
Blest as a smile
Of thy sunlit isle,
In the Old World honored, and the New!
For they lie asleep in a land of strangers,—
Far from the home their fame endears—
The Inniskillings, the Connaught Rangers,
The Dublin Fusiliers;
And the little plant they loved so well—
Better than fairest flower that blows—
Is set apart
In Britannia's heart
With the Scottish thistle and the rose:
Is set apart, and never again
Shall human eyes the shamrock see
Without a thought of the heroes slain
Whose splendid loyalty,
Stronger than ancient hate or wrong,
Sublimed them 'midst the battle's hell—
A tidal wave
From the souls of the brave,
That made them deathless as they fell!
Friday, March 16, 2018
THE clouds give back to earth again"The Clouds" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Mine and Thine (1904) and Poems (1916) Volume I.
The moisture they absorb;
An atom floating in the sun
Is lasting as an orb.
We fear lest ill should fly itself,
And wrong at last prevail:
Lest good should lack its just reward
And light untimely fail:
We falter, and distrust the fate
We may not understand,
Interrogate the oracle,
When God is close at hand.
And still the clouds go drifting by,
Or fall in fruitful rain;
High over us the stars, undimmed,
Benignant shine again;
And from that temple, viewless, vast,
Where failure is unknown,
The Father of existences
Keeps watch above his own.
Thursday, March 15, 2018
SORROW, quit me for a while!"An Adieu" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Harper's Monthly Magazine (July 1913) and Poems (1916) Volume II.
Wintry days are over;
Hope again, with April smile,
Violet sows and clover.
Pleasure follows in her path,
Love itself flies after,
And the brook a music hath
Sweet as childhood's laughter.
Not a bird upon the bough
Can repress its rapture,
Not a bud that blossoms now
But doth beauty capture. . . .
Sorrow, thou art Winter's mate,
Spring cannot regret thee;
Yet, ah, yet—my friend of late—
I shall not forget thee!
Trivia: "An Adieu" was read by actress Jenny Agutter in A Schubert Song Cycle performance featuring baritone Roderick Williams and pianist Susie Allan.