Read Ebook: The Comet and Other Verses by Dix Irving Sidney

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Ebook has 146 lines and 12803 words, and 3 pages

A Child's Elegy

We know her not whom once we knew, Who died it seems e'er death was due-- We know her not; she is asleep; Our hearts are dumb--we can but weep That one so young must bid adieu, Must part so soon from earthly view.

Those tender feet we knew so late We hear no more; we can but wait To hear them in the House of God When dust to dust we tread the sod, For in that home of homes they wait For us beside the city's gate.

Those little hands out-held in love, That in such innocence did move To fondle each familiar face Are still--they cannot now embrace As once they did so like a dove That weary parents would approve.

Those little lips that met our own So sweetly when we were alone No more shall meet the lips of earth, Sealed up unto another birth; But when these larger lives have flown Our lips will meet; she will be known.

Springtime was here--the birds would soon Have re-appeared--the birds would soon Have warbled from a new-built nest, Would soon have felt beneath their breast The little ones--and such a boon Had taught them still a sweeter tune.

But of the little ones not all Will answer to the parent-call, Not all will learn to rise and fly-- Many are born, but some must die; Many will rise, but some must fall, And God knows best for each and all.

This is the hope--we know not how-- This is the hope that lures us now, That makes the parting less of pain-- The hope that we shall meet again, And so while unto grief we bow The road beyond seems brighter now.

Dreaming of the Delaware

I have been far away from the Delaware's shore, From the river where once I did play, But I'm dreaming tonight by the old cottage door Where the moonlight is gleaming bright as day.

REFRAIN:

Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming of that dear old stream, Dreaming of the days that are no more-- The days so bright and fair, Dreaming in the moonlight gleaming on the shore Of the dear old Delaware.

And the river is still, and so peaceful tonight That its murmur I scarcely can hear, And across it the moonlight is beaming so bright That the scenes of my childhood appear.

And I think of my mother who bade me farewell And the sister who kist me good-bye-- They are sleeping below in that beautiful dell But methinks that again they are nigh.

Long deserted has been the old river home, My old home by the dear Delaware, But never, O never again will I roam From the scenes of my childhood so fair.

I will cherish the dreams I am dreaming tonight, Will upbuild the old homestead once more, And perhaps when I'm dead, for another's delight It will bloom by the Delaware's shore.

REFRAIN.

Norma

A Legend of the Wayne Highlands

Along the lake's wild northern shore An island dark with trees Lies shadow-like, and o'er and o'er At midnight thru a leafy door Comes music on the breeze, Sweet music on the breeze, Where sad-eyed Norma dreams, And o'er the wave, in thru the trees The mellow moonlight streams.

And Norma's voice is sweet to hear As the breathing of a bell; But while so welcome to the ear Of any one afar or near, The notes, O few can tell! The notes, O few can tell! Falling so wildly sweet, Like the mournful ringing of a bell With the tones still incomplete.

The legend runs:--That long ago A lover came to woo, But left her--why?-- For while her love like wine did flow Away from her he drew-- He drew from her away, While she was left forlorn And ever Did daily for him mourn.

But Norma left her home one night When all were fast asleep And angel-like she trod the light Moonpath across the waters bright Until she ceased to weep, Until she ceased to weep, Singing a sweet, sweet song That on the lake that lay asleep The night-wind did prolong.

And after Norma's death, one day A knock at her father's door Announced the lad who went away When both were lovers young and gay, Who now would love her more Than any other maid, Yes, any other maid, Saying, O where is Norma now, Where is my sweetheart now?

The lover sadly turned away And vowed that he would know The song complete e'er dawn of day And followed where the moonpath lay Upon the lake below, Where Norma sang of love On the island dark with trees That cast deep shadows on the cove, And his heart was ill at ease.

At midnight o'er the moonlit wave He bent his little boat, Till he heard the song the soft winds gave, But if his life that song might save, He could not tell a note! He could not learn a note! Tho' many, and many, and many a night In the lovely moonpath gleaming bright He listened from his boat.

But the song he never, never knew Altho' he listened long, And so it is--is ever true When hearts withhold a love long due; For Love sings one sweet song, One sweet familiar song, At thy heart's door today, And knocking, waits, but waiting long Forever turns away.

Plant a Tree

The Past unto the Present cries-- Arise, ye more than blind, arise! For I who fell the forest low Would now another forest grow, But what is done I cannot mend, So unto you a message send-- Much did I do for you, for me Plant a tree, Plant a tree.

The Present, waking from its sleep, Across the hills began to creep, And saw where Past had fallen far A noble forest, with a scar On many a wounded mountain side That from the elements would hide-- And answered:--Past, I will for thee Plant a tree, A forest tree.

The feeling Future, yet unborn, Heard Present echoing her horn, And stirring somewhat in Life's cell Did try her dearest wish to tell, Whispering in an undertone: I--I shall reap as ye have sown, O heed the Past! and--thanks to thee-- Plant a tree, Plant a tree.

Maid of Shehawken

Maid of Shehawken, kind and true, I sing a fond farewell, But, maiden, though I sing adieu, My love I cannot tell-- My love I cannot tell to thee For parting gives me pain, Oh may I in the days to be Meet with thee once again.

Maid of Shehawken, sweet and fair, Accept my humble praise, And may thy path be free from care, Full happy be thy days, And ever mid the lure of life Where e'er thy lot may be, In pleasant paths or weary strife-- Remember, I love thee.

Maid of Shehawken, kind and true, Tho' far away we roam, Few places will we find, O few As sweet as our highland home, And tho' Life's pathway lead along The shining streets of gold, Our lips will never know a song As sweet as the songs of old.

Maid of Shehawken, dearer far Than any that I know, Lighting my pathway like a star, Afar from thee I go, But tho' I leave the Hills of Wayne My heart is still with thee, O maiden, may we meet again In the days that are to be.

To the Delaware

Cease thy murmuring, Delaware, For thy many braves so fair Who are sleeping by thy stream-- Rouse them not--there let them dream. For upon that silent shore Indian's cry shall sound no more. There, where still the owlets cry And the solemn night-winds sigh, Let the victor's head remain With the spirits of the slain, Leave the warriors fast asleep Where the willows o'er them weep, For thy murmuring, Delaware, Cannot wake those sleeping there, For thy voice deep in the foam Cannot ever call them home.

There, where low and high degree Sleep beneath the self-same tree, And where warriors small and great, Share in death a common fate, Leave the pale-face and the braves Side by side within their graves.

There, where ridges lifting high Try to bridge the endless sky, And where willows bend like lead O'er the footprints of the dead-- To each brother slumbering there, Sing sweet songs, my Delaware.

REQUIEM:

Starlight Lake

Well named thou art, O little lake Set in among the hills; Well named art thou,--each star doth make Reflected forms that fancies wake And memory fondly fills.

And nightly on the rugged shore Each cot with ruddy beam Lights up thy face from pane and door And throws a stream of silver o'er Thy bosom like a dream.

Thy hemlock hills, now dimly grown, Fling shadows on thy face, And to their branch the birds have flown, Except the owl, whose monotone The listening ear can trace.

There, where the starlight thickly trails A path across thy wave, A passing boat a boatman hails Whose maiden crew still softly sails As with a pilot brave.

While from thy shore a lithe canoe Shoots o'er thy bosom fair, Leaving behind a milk-white view As when the beaver paddled thru Thy waters unaware.

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