The　slumberous　watchman　wakes　and　strikes　the　hour；
  A　mellow；　measured；　melancholy　sound。
  Midnight！　the　outpost　of　advancing　day！
  The　frontier　town　and　citadel　of　night！
  The　watershed　of　Time；　from　which　the　streams
  Of　Yesterday　and　To…morrow　take　their　way；
  One　to　the　land　of　promise　and　of　light；
  One　to　the　land　of　darkness　and　of　dreams！
  II
  O　River　of　Yesterday；　with　current　swift
  Through　chasms　descending；　and　soon　lost　to　sight；
  I　do　not　care　to　follow　in　their　flight
  The　faded　leaves；　that　on　thy　bosom　drift！
  O　River　of　To…morrow；　I　uplift
  Mine　eyes；　and　thee　I　follow；　as　the　night
  Wanes　into　morning；　and　the　dawning　light
  Broadens；　and　all　the　shadows　fade　and　shift！
  I　follow；　follow；　where　thy　waters　run
  Through　unfrequented；　unfamiliar　fields；
  Fragrant　with　flowers　and　musical　with　song；
  Still　follow；　follow；　sure　to　meet　the　sun；
  And　confident；　that　what　the　future　yields
  Will　be　the　right；　unless　myself　be　wrong。
  III
  Yet　not　in　vain；　O　River　of　Yesterday；
  Through　chasms　of　darkness　to　the　deep　descending；
  I　heard　thee　sobbing　in　the　rain；　and　blending
  Thy　voice　with　other　voices　far　away。
  I　called　to　thee；　and　yet　thou　wouldst　not　stay；
  But　turbulent；　and　with　thyself　contending；
  And　torrent…like　thy　force　on　pebbles　spending；
  Thou　wouldst　not　listen　to　a　poet's　lay。
  Thoughts；　like　a　loud　and　sudden　rush　of　wings；
  Regrets　and　recollections　of　things　past；
  With　hints　and　prophecies　of　things　to　be；
  And　inspirations；　which；　could　they　be　things；
  And　stay　with　us；　and　we　could　hold　them　fast；
  Were　our　good　angels；these　I　owe　to　thee。
  IV
  And　thou；　O　River　of　To…morrow；　flowing
  Between　thy　narrow　adamantine　walls；
  But　beautiful；　and　white　with　waterfalls；
  And　wreaths　of　mist；　like　hands　the　pathway　showing；
  I　hear　the　trumpets　of　the　morning　blowing；
  I　hear　thy　mighty　voice；　that　calls　and　calls；
  And　see；　as　Ossian　saw　in　Morven's　halls；
  Mysterious　phantoms；　coming；　beckoning；　going！
  It　is　the　mystery　of　the　unknown
  That　fascinates　us；　we　are　children　still；
  Wayward　and　wistful；　with　one　hand　we　cling
  To　the　familiar　things　we　call　our　own；
  And　with　the　other；　resolute　of　will；
  Grope　in　the　dark　for　what　the　day　will　bring。
  BOSTON
  St。　Bototlph's　Town！　　Hither　across　the　plains
  And　fens　of　Lincolnshire；　in　garb　austere；
  There　came　a　Saxon　monk；　and　founded　here
  A　Priory；　pillaged　by　marauding　Danes；
  So　that　thereof　no　vestige　now　remains；
  Only　a　name；　that；　spoken　loud　and　clear；
  And　echoed　in　another　hemisphere；
  Survives　the　sculptured　walls　and　painted　panes。
  St。　Botolph's　Town！　　Far　over　leagues　of　land
  And　leagues　of　sea　looks　forth　its　noble　tower；
  And　far　around　the　chiming　bells　are　heard；
  So　may　that　sacred　name　forever　stand
  A　landmark；　and　a　symbol　of　the　power；
  That　lies　concentred　in　a　single　word。
  ST。　JOHN'S；　CAMBRIDGE
  I　stand　beneath　the　tree；　whose　branches　shade
  Thy　western　window；　Chapel　of　St。　John！
  And　hear　its　leaves　repeat　their　benison
  On　him；　whose　hand　if　thy　stones　memorial　laid；
  Then　I　remember　one　of　whom　was　said
  In　the　world's　darkest　hour；　〃Behold　thy　son！〃
  And　see　him　living　still；　and　wandering　on
  And　waiting　for　the　advent　long　delayed。
  Not　only　tongues　of　the　apostles　teach
  Lessons　of　love　and　light；　but　these　expanding
  And　sheltering　boughs　with　all　their　leaves　implore；
  And　say　in　language　clear　as　human　speech；
  〃The　peace　of　God；　that　passeth　understanding；
  Be　and　abide　with　you　forevermore！〃
  MOODS
  Ohthat　a　Song　would　sing　itself　to　me
  Out　of　the　heart　of　Nature；　or　the　heart
  Of　man；　the　child　of　Nature；　not　of　Art；
  Fresh　as　the　morning；　salt　as　the　salt　sea；
  With　just　enough　of　bitterness　to　be
  A　medicine　to　this　sluggish　mood；　and　start
  The　life…blood　in　my　veins；　and　so　impart
  Healing　and　help　in　this　dull　lethargy！
  Alas！　not　always　doth　the　breath　of　song
  Breathe　on　us。　　It　is　like　the　wind　that　bloweth
  At　its　own　will；　not　ours；　nor　tarries　long；
  We　hear　the　sound　thereof；　but　no　man　knoweth
  From　whence　it　comes；　so　sudden　and　swift　and　strong；
  Nor　whither　in　its　wayward　course　it　goeth。
  WOODSTOCK　PARK
  Here　in　a　little　rustic　hermitage
  Alfred　the　Saxon　King；　Alfred　the　Great；
  Postponed　the　cares　of　king…craft　to　translate
  The　Consolations　of　the　Roman　sage。
  Here　Geoffrey　Chaucer　in　his　ripe　old　age
  Wrote　the　unrivalled　Tales；　which　soon　or　late
  The　venturous　hand　that　strives　to　imitate
  Vanquished　must　fall　on　the　unfinished　page。
  Two　kings　were　they；　who　ruled　by　right　divine；
  And　both　supreme；　one　in　the　realm　of　Truth；
  One　in　the　realm　of　Fiction　and　of　Song。
  What　prince　hereditary　of　their　line；
  Uprising　in　the　strength　and　flush　of　youth；
  Their　glory　shall　inherit　and　prolong？
  THE　FOUR　PRINCESSES　AT　WILNA
  A　PHOTOGRAPH
  Sweet　faces；　that　from　pictured　casements　lean
  As　from　a　castle　window；　looking　down
  On　some　gay　pageant　passing　through　a　town；
  Yourselves　the　fairest　figures　in　the　scene；
  With　what　a　gentle　grace；　with　what　serene
  Unconsciousness　ye　wear　the　triple　crown
  Of　youth　and　beauty　and　the　fair　renown
  Of　a　great　name；　that　ne'er　hath　tarnished　been！
  From　your　soft　eyes；　so　innocent　and　sweet；
  Four　spirits；　sweet　and　innocent　as　they；
  Gaze　on　the　world　below；　the　sky　above；
  Hark！　there　is　some　one　singing　in　the　street；
  〃Faith；　Hope；　and　Love！　these　three；〃　he　seems　to　say；
  〃These　three；　and　greatest　of　the　three　is　Love。〃
  HOLIDAYS
  The　holiest　of　all　holidays　are　those
  Kept　by　ourselves　in　silence　and　apart；
  The　secret　anniversaries　of　the　heart；
  When　the　full　river　of　feeling　overflows；
  The　happy　days　unclouded　to　their　close；
  The　sudden　joys　that　out　of　darkness　start
  As　flames　from　ashes；　swift　desires　that　dart
  Like　swallows　singing　down　each　wind　that　blows！
  White　as　the　gleam　of　a　receding　sail；
  White　as　a　cloud　that　floats　and　fades　in　air；
  White　as　the　whitest　lily　on　a　stream；
  These　tender　memories　are；a　Fairy　Tale
  Of　some　enchanted　land　we　know　not　where；
  But　lovely　as　a　landscape　in　a　dream。
  WAPENTAKE
  TO　ALFRED　TENNYSON
  Poet！　I　come　to　touch　thy　lance　with　mine；
  Not　as　a　knight；　who　on　the　listed　field
  Of　tourney　touched　his　adversary's　shield
  In　token　of　defiance；　but　in　sign
  Of　homage　to　the　mastery；　which　is　thine；
  In　English　song；　nor　will　I　keep　concealed；
  And　voiceless　as　a　rivulet　frost…congealed；
  My　admiration　for　thy　verse　divine。
  Not　of　the　howling　dervishes　of　song；
  Who　craze　the　brain　with　their　delirious　dance；
  Art　thou；　O　sweet　historian　of　the　heart！
  Therefore　to　thee　the　laurel…leaves　belong；
  To　thee　our　love　and　our　allegiance；
  For　thy　allegiance　to　the　poet's　art。
  THE　BROKEN　OAR
  Once　upon　Iceland's　solitary　strand
  A　poet　wandered　with　his　book　and　pen；
  Seeking　some　final　word；　some　sweet　Amen；
  Wherewith　to　close　the　volume　in　his　hand。
  The　billows　rolled　and　plunged　upon　the　sand；
  The　circling　sea…gulls　swept　beyond　his　ken；
  And　from　the　parting　cloud…rack　now　and　then
  Flashed　the　red　sunset　over　sea　and　land。
  Then　by　the　billows　at　his　feet　was　tossed
  A　broken　oar；　and　carved　thereon　he　read；
  〃Oft　was　I　weary；　when　I　toiled　at　thee〃；
  And　like　a　man；　who　findeth　what　was　lost；
  He　wrote　the　words；　then　lifted　up　his　head；
  And　flung　his　useless　pen　into　the　sea。
  THE　CROSS　OF　SNOW
  In　the　long；　sleepless　watches　of　the　night；
  A　gentle　facethe　face　of　one　long　dead
  Looks　at　me　from　the　wall；　where　round　its　head
  The　night…lamp　casts　a　halo　of　pale　light。
  Here　in　this　room　she　died；　and　soul　more　white
  Never　through　martyrdom　of　fire　was　led
  To　its　repose；　nor　can　in　books　be　read
  The　legend　of　a　life　more　benedight。
  There　is　a　mountain　in　the　distant　West
  That；　sun…defying；　in　its　deep　ravines
  Displays　a　cross　of　snow　upon　its　side。
  Such　is　the　cross　I　wear　upon　my　breast
  These　eighteen　years；　through　all　the　changing　scenes
  And　seasons；　changeless　since　the　day　she　died。
  **************
  BIRDS　OF　PASSAGE
  FLIGHT　THE　FOURTH
  CHARLES　SUMNER
  Garlands　upon　his　grave；
  And　flowers　upon　his　hearse；
  And　to　the　tender　heart　and　brave
  The　tribute　of　this　verse。
  His　was　the　troubled　life；
  The　conflict　and　the　pain；
  The　grief；　the　bitterness　of　strife；
  The　honor　without　stain。
  Like　Winkelried；　he　took
  Into　his　manly　breast
  The　sheaf　of　hostile　spears；　and　broke
  A　path　for　the　oppressed。
  Then　from　the　fatal　field
  Upon　a　nation's　heart
  Borne　like　a　warrior　on　his　shield！
  So　should　t