Read Ebook: Later Poems by Carman Bliss

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BLISS CARMAN: AN APPRECIATION VESTIGIA A REMEMBRANCE THE SHIPS OF YULE THE SHIPS OF SAINT JOHN THE GARDEN OF DREAMS GARDEN MAGIC IN GOLD LACQUER APRILIAN GARDEN SHADOWS IN THE DAY OF BATTLE TREES THE GIVERS OF LIFE A FIRESIDE VISION A WATER COLOR THRENODY FOR A POET DUST OF THE STREET TO A YOUNG LADY ON HER BIRTHDAY THE GIFT THE CRY OF THE HILLBORN A MOUNTAIN GATEWAY MORNING IN THE HILLS A WOODPATH WEATHER OF THE SOUL HERE AND NOW THE ANGEL OF JOY THE HOMESTEAD "THE STARRY MIDNIGHT WHISPERS" A LYRIC "APRIL NOW IN MORNING CLAD" NIKE THE ENCHANTED TRAVELLER SPRING'S SARABAND TRIUMPHALIS "NOW THE LENGTHENING TWILIGHTS HOLD" THE SOUL OF APRIL AN APRIL MORNING EARTH VOICES RESURGAM EASTER EVE NOW IS THE TIME OF YEAR THE REDWING THE RAINBIRD LAMENT UNDER THE APRIL MOON THE FLUTE OF SPRING SPRING NIGHT BLOODROOT DAFFODIL'S RETURN NOW THE LILAC TREE'S IN BUD WHITE IRIS THE TREE OF HEAVEN PEONY THE URBAN PAN THE SAILING OF THE FLEETS "'TIS MAY NOW IN NEW ENGLAND" IN EARLY MAY FIREFLIES THE PATH TO SANKOTY OFF MONOMOY IN ST GERMAIN STREET PAN IN THE CATSKILLS A NEW ENGLAND JUNE THE TENT OF NOON CHILDREN OF DREAM ROADSIDE FLOWERS THE GARDEN OF SAINT ROSE THE WORLD VOICE SONGS OF THE GRASS THE CHORISTERS THE WEED'S COUNSEL THE BLUE HERON WOODLAND RAIN SUMMER STORM DANCE OF THE SUNBEAMS THE CAMPFIRE OF THE SUN SUMMER STREAMS THE GOD OF THE WOODS AT SUNRISE AT TWILIGHT MOONRISE THE QUEEN OF NIGHT NIGHT LYRIC THE HEART OF NIGHT PEACE THE OLD GRAY WALL TE DEUM IN OCTOBER BY STILL WATERS LINES FOR A PICTURE THE DESERTED PASTURE AUTUMN NOVEMBER TWILIGHT THE GHOSTYARD OF THE GOLDENROD BEFORE THE SNOW WINTER A WINTER PIECE WINTER STREAMS WINTER TWILIGHT THE TWELFTH NIGHT STAR A CHRISTMAS EVE CHORAL CHRISTMAS SONG THE WISE MEN FROM THE EAST THE SENDING OF THE MAGI THE ANGELS OF MAN AT THE MAKING OF MAN ST. MICHAEL'S STAR THE DREAMERS EL DORADO ON THE PLAZA A PAINTER'S HOLIDAY MIRAGE THE WINGED VICTORY THE GATE OF PEACE

Later Poems

Vestigia.

A Remembrance.

Here in lovely New England When summer is come, a sea-turn Flutters a page of remembrance In the volume of long ago.

Soft is the wind over Grand Pr?, Stirring the heads of the grasses, Sweet is the breath of the orchards White with their apple-blow.

There at their infinite business Of measuring time forever, Murmuring songs of the sea, The great tides come and go.

Over the dikes and the uplands Wander the great cloud shadows, Strange as the passing of sorrow, Beautiful, solemn, and slow.

For, spreading her old enchantment Of tender ineffable wonder, Summer is there in the Northland! How should my heart not know?

The Ships of Yule

When I was just a little boy, Before I went to school, I had a fleet of forty sail I called the Ships of Yule;

Of every rig, from rakish brig And gallant barkentine, To little Fundy fishing boats With gunwales painted green.

They used to go on trading trips Around the world for me, For though I had to stay on shore My heart was on the sea.

They stopped at every port to call From Babylon to Rome, To load with all the lovely things We never had at home;

With elephants and ivory Bought from the King of Tyre, And shells and silk and sandal-wood That sailor men admire;

With figs and dates from Samarcand, And squatty ginger-jars, And scented silver amulets From Indian bazaars;

With sugar-cane from Port of Spain, And monkeys from Ceylon, And paper lanterns from Pekin With painted dragons on;

With cocoanuts from Zanzibar, And pines from Singapore; And when they had unloaded these They could go back for more.

And even after I was big And had to go to school, My mind was often far away Aboard the Ships of Yule.

The Ships of Saint John

Where are the ships I used to know, That came to port on the Fundy tide Half a century ago, In beauty and stately pride?

In they would come past the beacon light, With the sun on gleaming sail and spar, Folding their wings like birds in flight From countries strange and far.

Schooner and brig and barkentine, I watched them slow as the sails were furled, And wondered what cities they must have seen On the other side of the world.

Frenchman and Britisher and Dane, Yankee, Spaniard and Portugee, And many a home ship back again With her stories of the sea.

Calm and victorious, at rest From the relentless, rough sea-play, The wild duck on the river's breast Was not more sure than they.

The creatures of a passing race, The dark spruce forests made them strong, The sea's lore gave them magic grace, The great winds taught them song.

And God endowed them each with life-- His blessing on the craftsman's skill-- To meet the blind unreasoned strife And dare the risk of ill.

Not mere insensate wood and paint Obedient to the helm's command, But often restive as a saint Beneath the Heavenly hand.

All the beauty and mystery Of life were there, adventure bold, Youth, and the glamour of the sea And all its sorrows old.

And many a time I saw them go Out on the flood at morning brave, As the little tugs had them in tow, And the sunlight danced on the wave.

There all day long you could hear the sound Of the caulking iron, the ship's bronze bell, And the clank of the capstan going round As the great tides rose and fell.

The sailors' songs, the Captain's shout, The boatswain's whistle piping shrill, And the roar as the anchor chain runs out,-- I often hear them still.

I can see them still, the sun on their gear, The shining streak as the hulls careen, And the flag at the peak unfurling,--clear As a picture on a screen.

The fog still hangs on the long tide-rips, The gulls go wavering to and fro, But where are all the beautiful ships I knew so long ago?

The Garden of Dreams

My heart is a garden of dreams Where you walk when day is done, Fair as the royal flowers, Calm as the lingering sun.

Never a drouth comes there, Nor any frost that mars, Only the wind of love Under the early stars,--

The living breath that moves Whispering to and fro, Like the voice of God in the dusk Of the garden long ago.

Garden Magic

Within my stone-walled garden

I love to walk at evening And watch, when winds are low, The new moon in the tree-tops, Because she loved it so!

And there entranced I listen, While flowers and winds confer, And all their conversation Is redolent of her.

I love the trees that guard it, Upstanding and serene, So noble, so undaunted, Because that was her mien.

I love the brook that bounds it, Because its silver voice Is like her bubbling laughter That made the world rejoice.

I love the golden jonquils, Because she used to say, If soul could choose a color It would be clothed as they.

I love the blue-gray iris, Because her eyes were blue, Sea-deep and heaven-tender In meaning and in hue.

I love the small wild roses, Because she used to stand Adoringly above them And bless them with her hand.

These were her boon companions. But more than all the rest I love the April lilac, Because she loved it best.

Soul of undying rapture! How love's enchantment clings, With sorcery and fragrance, About familiar things!

In Gold Lacquer

Gold are the great trees overhead, And gold the leaf-strewn grass, As though a cloth of gold were spread To let a seraph pass. And where the pageant should go by, Meadow and wood and stream, The world is all of lacquered gold, Expectant as a dream.

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