Weeds by the Wall: Verses. Madison Julius Cawein

THE CUP OF JOY.

       PESTILENCE.

       MUSINGS.

       AT THE SIGN OF THE SKULL.

       A CAVALIER'S TOAST.

       SLEEP IS A SPIRIT.

       KENNST DU DAS LAND.

       AT MIDNIGHT.

       THE MAN IN GRAY.

       HALLOWE'EN.

       THE IMAGE IN THE GLASS.

       HER PRAYER.

       THE MESSAGE OF THE LILIES.

       A LEGEND OF THE LILY.

       THE END OF THE CENTURY.

       THE ISLE OF VOICES.

       A. D. NINETEEN HUNDRED.

       CAVERNS.

       OF THE SLUMS.

       THE WINDS.

       PROTOTYPES.

       TOUCHES.

       THE WOMAN SPEAKS.

       LOVE, THE INTERPRETER.

       UNANSWERED.

       EARTH AND MOON.

       PEARLS.

       IN THE FOREST.

       ENCHANTMENT.

       DUSK.

       THE BLUE BIRD.

       CAN SUCH THINGS BE?

       THE PASSING GLORY.

       SEPTEMBER.

       HOODOO.

       THE OTHER WOMAN.

       A SONG FOR LABOR.

       AFTERWORD.

FOREWORD.

       Table of Contents

      In the first rare spring of song, In my heart's young hours, In my youth 't was thus I sang, Choosing 'mid the flowers:—

      "Fair the Dandelion is, But for me too lowly; And the winsome Violet Is, forsooth, too holy. 'But the Touchmenot?' Go to! What! a face that's speckled Like a common milking-maid's, Whom the sun hath freckled. Then the Wild-Rose is a flirt; And the trillium Lily, In her spotless gown, 's a prude, Sanctified and silly. By her cap the Columbine, To my mind, 's too merry; Gossips, I would sooner wed Some plebeian Berry. And the shy Anemone— Well, her face shows sorrow; Pale, goodsooth! alive to-day, Dead and gone to-morrow. Then that bold-eyed, buxom wench, Big and blond and lazy— She's been chosen overmuch!— Sirs, I mean the Daisy. Pleasant persons are they all, And their virtues many; Faith I know but good of each, And naught ill of any. But I choose a May-apple; She shall be my Lady; Blooming, hidden and refined, Sweet in places shady."

      In my youth 'twas thus I sang, In my heart's young hours, In the first rare spring of song, Choosing 'mid the flowers. So I hesitated when Time alone was reckoned By the hours that Fancy smiled, Love and Beauty beckoned. Hard it was for me to choose From the flowers that flattered; And the blossom that I chose Soon lay dead and scattered. Hard I found it then, ah, me! Hard I found the choosing; Harder, harder since I've found, Ah, too hard the losing. Haply had I chosen then From the weeds that tangle Wayside, woodland and the wall Of my garden's angle, I had chosen better, yea, For these later hours— Longer last the weeds, and oft Sweeter are than flowers.

Weeds by the Wall.

       Table of Contents

A WILD IRIS.

       Table of Contents

      That day we wandered 'mid the hills—so lone

       Clouds are not lonelier—the forest lay

       In emerald darkness 'round us. Many a stone

       And gnarly root, gray-mossed, made wild our way;

       And many a bird the glimmering light along

       Showered the golden bubbles of its song.

      Then in the valley, where the brook