Works

Thrice hail the still unconquered King of Song!
For all adore and love the Master Art
That reareth his throne in temple of the heart;
And smiteth chords of passion full and strong...

To a violet that faded on my coat at Natchez, Miss. March 8th, 1902.


Alas! thou lovely floweret wee,
Fate blew a blighting breath
Upon the delicate form of thee, -
Thou'st met untimely death!...

Coy, sweet maid, I love so well,
Fair Estelle.
How much I love thee tongue can't tell,
Sweet Estelle.
But I love thee - love thee true -
More than violets love the dew,...

On seeing her December 25th, 1904, after two years' travel.


Take, fair maid, these simple lines
From my pen;
Think of strollings 'neath the pines,
Which have been -...

Were I a bird free born to fly
Aloof on two wee, downy wings,
My canopy would be the sky
When rosy morn its dawning springs.

Were I a bird I'd sweetly sing
Earth's vesper song in tree-tops high,...

Oh! What is living but moving about,
Buoyed up with hope and crushed down by doubt?
What is the draught of breath we harp on as life?
Naught but a sip of peace, a cup full of strife -
What's the use?
...

I call thee angel of this earth,
For angel true thou art
In noble deeds and sterling worth
And sympathetic heart.
I, therefore, seek none from afar
For what they might have been,...