Walter R. Cassels

What art thou--friend or foe?
Stand! stand!
My heart is true as steel,
Steady still in woe and weal,
Strong to bear, though quick to feel--
Take my hand!

What art thou--friend or foe?
Stand! stand!
Only my own ease seek I,
I am deaf to Pity's cry,
If men hunger, let them die--
Traitor! stand!

What art thou--friend or foe?
Stand! stand!
I've a kiss for maiden fair,
I've a blow for who may dare,
I've a song to banish care--
Take my hand!

What art thou--friend or foe?
Stand! stand!
I'm your servant whilst you're great,
As you sink, my cares abate,
When you're poor you have my hate,--
Traitor! stand!

What art thou--friend or foe?
Stand! stand!
If you trust me, I'll be true,
If you sligh...

The Grey-beard Winter sat alone and still,
    Locking his treasures in the flinty earth;
And like a miser comfortless and chill,
    Frown'd upon pleasure and rejected mirth;

But Spring came, gentle Spring, the young, the fair,
    And with her smiles subdued his frosty heart,
So that for very joy to see her there,
    His soul, relenting, play'd the lover's part;

And nought could bring too lovely or too sweet,
    To lavish on the bright Evangel's head;
No flowers too radiant for her tender feet;
    No joys too blissful o'er her life to shed.

And thus the land became a Paradise,
    A new-made Eden, redolent of joy,
Where beauty blossom'd under sunny skies,
    And peaceful pleasure reign'd without alloy.

Winds are sighing round the drooping eaves;
    Sadly float the midnight hours away;
Dun and grey athwart the ivy-leaves,
    Fall the first pale chilly tints of day,
    Ah me! the weary, weary tints of day.

Soon the darkness will be past and gone;
    Soon the silence spread its noiseless wing;
Sleep will strike its tent and hurry on;
    Life commence its weary wandering,
    Ah me! its weary, weary wandering.

Not the sighing of my lonely heart,
    Not the heavy grief-clouds hanging o'er,
Not its silence can with night depart:
    Gloom hangs o'er it ever, evermore,
    Ah me! darkness ever, evermore.

The lights have faded from the little casement,
    As though her closing eyes had brought on night;
    And now she dreams--Ah! dreams supremely bright,
While silence reigns around from roof to basement.
    And slow the moon is mounting up the sky,
Drawing Heaven's myriads in her queenly train,
    Flinging rich largesse, as she passes by,
Of beauty freely over hill and plain.

Around the lattice creep the pure white roses,
    And one light bough rests gently on the pane,
    The diamond pane, through which the angel train
Gaze on the sister saint who there reposes;
    The moonlight silvers softly o'er it now;
And round the eaves the south wind whispers lowly,
    Waving the leaves like curls on maiden's brow;
The peace and stillness make the place seem ho...

From what rock-hollow'd cavern deep in ocean,
    Where jagged columns break the billow's beat,
Whirl'd upward by some wild mid-world commotion,
    Has this rose-tinted shell steer'd to my feet?

Perchance the wave that bore it has rejoiced
    Above Man's founder'd hopes, and shatter'd pride,
Whilst fierce Euroclydon swept, trumpet-voiced,
    Through the frail spars, and hurl'd them in the tide,
    And the lost seamen floated at its side!

Ah! thus too oft do Woe and Beauty meet,
    Swept onward by the self-same tide of fate,
The bitter following swift upon the sweet,
    Close, close together, yet how separate!

Frail waif from the sublime storm-shaken sea,
    Thou seem'st the childhood toy of some old king,
Who 'mid the shock of nations light...

Time sets his footprints on our little Earth,
    And, walk he ne'er so softly, some sweet thing
Falls 'neath each foot-fall, crush'd amid its mirth,
    Tracking the course of Life's short wandering,
With fallen remnants of its mortal part,
    Freeing the soul, but weighing down the heart.

Thou flower of Love! thou little treasury
    Of gentleness, and purity, and grace!
What hidden virtue hath Death reft from thee--
    What unseen essence melted into space?
For now thou liest like a sinless child,
    Whom God hath homeward to his bosom smiled.

The dew-shower fell on thee, the sunbeam play'd,
    As Life is ever made of smiles and tears;
And ofttimes has the breeze of summer sway'd,
    And with its mellow music mock'd thy fears;
But now, O wo...

        The day fades fast;
And backward ebbs the tide of light
From the far hills in billows bright,
    Scattering foam, as they sweep past,
O'er the low clouds that bank the sky,
And barrier day off solemnly.

        Above the land
Grey shadows stretch out, still and cold,
Flinging o'er water, wood, and wold,
    Mysterious shapes, whose ghastly hand
    Presses down sorrow on the heart,
And silence on the lips that part.

        The dew-mist broods
Heavy and low o'er field and fen,
Like gloom above the souls of men;
    And through the forest solitudes
The fitful night-wind rustles by,
Breathing many a wailing sigh--

        O Day! O Life!
Ending in gloom together here--
Though not one star of Hope appear,
    Sti...

Peace! Let me go, or ere it be too late;
    Dip not your arrows in the honey-mead;
    Paint not the wound through which my heart doth bleed;
Leave me unmock'd, unpitied to my fate--
Peace! Let me go.

Think you that words can smooth my rugged track?
    Words heal the stab your soft white hands have made,
    Or stir the burthen on my bosom laid?
Winds shook not Earth from Atlas' bended back--
Peace! Let me go.

What though it be the last time we shall meet--
    Raise your white brow, and wreathe your raven hair,
    And fill with music sweet the summer air;
Not this again shall draw me to your feet--
Peace! Let me go.

No laurels from my vanquish'd heart shall wave
    Round your triumphant beauty as you go,
    Not thus adorn'd work ou...

1.

It was too sweet--such dreams do ever fade
    When Sorrow shakes the sleeper from his rest--
Life still to me hath been a masquerade,
    Woe in Mirth's wildest, gayest mantle drest,
With the heart hidden--but the face display'd.

But now the vizard droppeth, crush'd and torn,
    And there is nought left but some tinsell'd rags,
To mock the wearer in the face of morn,
    As through the gaping world she feebly drags
Her day-born measure of reproach and scorn.

But that _his_ hand should pluck the dream away--
    And thus--and thus--O Heaven! it strikes too deep!
The knife that wounds me, if not meant to slay,
    Stumbles upon my heart the while I weep:
So be it; no hand of mine its course shall stay.

False? false to him? Release me...

Turn thine eyes from me, Angel of Heaven--
    Read not my soul, Angel of Heaven--
Sorrow is steeping my pale cheeks with weeping,
    Evermore keeping her wand on my heart,
    On my cold stony heart, while the tear-fountains start
To purge it from leaven too sinful for Heaven--
    Read not my soul, yet, Angel of Heaven!

Why hast thou ta'en her, Angel of Heaven?
    Ta'en her so soon, Angel of Heaven?
Yearning to gain her, hast thou thus slain her
    Ere sin could stain her--borne her away,
    Borne her far, far away, into eternal day,
    Left me alone to stay--left me to weep and pray?
Why hast thou ta'en her, Angel of Heaven?
    Ta'en her so soon, Angel of Heaven?

Shines the place brighter, Angel of Heaven?
    Brighter for her, Angel of He...

The King call'd forth his first-born, and took him by the hand,
"Come! boy, and see the people you must soon command:

A bold and stalwart nation, dauntless in the fight,
Strong as an iron buckler to guard their monarch's right."

Then the trumpets sounded, and his vassals came,
Gather'd round his banner, loudly rang his name;

Clash'd their burnish'd targets, waved their flashing steel
A goodly gath'ring look'd they, arm'd from head to heel.

"Child! my heart beats proudly, now I feel a king,
As I look around me on this martial ring;

There I see the sinews that support a state,
There I see the strength that makes a monarch great.

Men whose life is glory--men whose death is fame,
Living still in story past the reach of shame."

Many ...

My little bark glides steadily along,
    Still and unshaken as a summer dream;
    And never falls the oar into the stream,
For 'tis but morning, and the current strong;
    So let the ripples bear me as they will;
Sweet, sweet is Life, and every sound is song;
    Sorrow lies sleeping, and Joy sends me still
            Swift floating down the River.

Bright shines the sun athwart the linden-trees;
    One little cloud alone steals o'er the sky,
    As o'er the widening stream below steal I,
Fann'd by the same faint perfume-laden breeze;
    Bird-music answers sweetly through the air,
The unheard warbling of heart melodies;
    Thus go I dreaming, free from faintest care,
            Swift floating down the River.

Pure lie the broad-leaved lilies ...

The night is dark, and evermore
    The thick drops patter on the pane
    The wind is weary of the rain,
And round the thatches moaneth sore;
    Dark is the night, and cold the air;
    And all the trees stand stark and bare,
With leaves spread dank and sere below,
    Slow rotting on the plashy clay,
    In the God's-acre far away,
Where she, O God! lies cold below--
        Cold, cold below!

And many a bitter day and night
    Have pour'd their storms upon her breast,
    And chill'd her in her long, long rest,
With foul corruption's icy blight;
    Earth's dews are freezing round the heart,
    Where love alone so late had part;
And evermore the frost and snow
    Are burrowing downward through the clay,
    In the God's-acre far away...

Autumn went faintly flying o'er the land,
Trailing her golden hair along the West,
Weeping to find her waving fields despoil'd,
Her yellow leaves all floating on the wind:
And Winter grim came stalking from the North.
Around the coast rough blasts began to blow,
And toss the seas about in giant sport,
Lurking without to catch unwary sails,
And snap their bellying seams against the mast.
So Guy lay idly waiting in the port,
Gazing out eastward through the stormy mist,
Gazing out eastward morn and closing eve,
Seeking some break amid the hurtling clouds.
But many days the same wind strongly blew,
Keeping his bark close moor'd within the bay,
Jerking the cable, like a restive steed.
And waiting thus impatient to be gone,
Looking out seaward from the dripping...

Life's chalice is empty--pour in! pour in!
What?--Pour in Strength!
Strength for the struggle through good and ill;
Through good--that the soul may be upright still,
Unspoil'd by riches, unswerving in will,
To walk by the light of unvarnish'd truth,
Up the flower-border'd path of youth;--
Through ill--that the soul may stoutly hold
Its faith, its freedom through hunger and cold,
Steadfast and pure as the true men of old.
Strength for the sunshine, strength for the gloom,
Strength for the conflict, strength for the tomb;
Let not the heart feel a craven fear--
Draw from the fountain deep and clear;
Brim up Life's chalice--pour in! pour in!
Pour in Strength!

Life's chalice is empty--pour in! pour in!
What--Pour in Truth!
Drink! till the mists that...

Hot blows the wild simoom across the waste,
    The desert waste, amid the dreary sand,
    With fiery breath swift burning up the land,
O'er the scared pilgrim, speeding on in haste,
    Hurling fierce death-drifts with broad-scorching hand.

O weary Wilderness! No shady tree
    To spread its arms around the fainting soul;
    No spring to sparkle in the parchèd bowl;
No refuge in the drear immensity,
Where lies the Past, wreck'd 'neath a sandy sea,
    Where o'er its glories blighting billows roll.

Ho! Sea, yield up thy buried dead again;
    Heave back thy waves, and let the Past arise;
    Restore Time's relics to the startled skies,
Till giant shadows tremble on the plain,
    And awe the heart with old-world mysteries!

Old Menmon! Once ...

"A hunter of shadows, himself a shade."--HOMER.


Oh! weary sleeper by the lone sea-shore,
    Where billows toil for ever 'mid the rocks,
    Scourged on by winds in stormy equinox,
Rise! rise in haste, or slumber evermore!
    The stern Earth calls thee, and the Ocean mocks;
    Roll thy poor sightless orbs about the sky,
    Through tears of blind and powerless agony;
Rise! rise in haste, or slumber evermore!

Ay! blind I stand beside the lone sea-shore;
    Hearing the mighty murmur of the waves,
    Shaking with giant arms earth's architraves,
Scaling the riven cloud-crags bald and boar,
    Surging hoarse secrets through the central caves;
    God! shall thine ocean undiscernèd roll,
    Night on mine eyes, and darkness on my soul,
Groping...

About the land I wander, all forlorn,
About the land, with sorrow-quenchèd eyes;
Seeking my love among the silent woods;
Seeking her by the fountains and the streams;
Calling her name unto lone mountain tops;
Sending it flying on the clouds to heaven.
I drop my tears amid the dews at morn;
I trouble all the night with prayers and sighs,
That, like a veil thick set with golden stars,
Hideth my woe, but cannot silence it;
Yet never more at morning, noon, or night,
Cometh there answer back, Eurydice,
Thy voice speaks never more, Eurydice;
O far, death-stricken, lost Eurydice!

Hear'st thou my weary cries, Eurydice?
Hearing, but answering not from out the past,
Wrapp'd in thy robe of everlasting light,
Round which the accents flutter faintingly,
Lik...