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GLOUCESTER MOORS and Other Poems. 12mo, $1.25. THE FIRE-BRINGER. 12mo, $1.10, _net_. Postage 8 cents. THE MASQUE OF JUDGMENT. 12mo, $1.50.
THE GREAT DIVIDE. 12mo, $1.00, _net_. Postage 10 cents. THE FAITH HEALER. 12mo, $1.00, _net_. Postage 10 cents.
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON AND NEW YORK
BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY The Riverside Press Cambridge
Several poems of this collection, including "An Ode in Time of Hesitation," "The Brute," and "On a Soldier Fallen in the Philippines," have appeared in the _Atlantic Monthly_; "Gloucester Moors" and "Faded Pictures," in _Scribner's Magazine_; and "The Ride Back," under a different title in the _Chap-Book_. The author is indebted to the editors of these periodicals for leave to reprint.
ON A SOLDIER FALLEN IN THE PHILIPPINES 24
A mile behind is Gloucester town Where the fishing fleets put in, A mile ahead the land dips down And the woods and farms begin. Here, where the moors stretch free In the high blue afternoon, Are the marching sun and talking sea, And the racing winds that wheel and flee On the flying heels of June.
Jill-o'er-the-ground is purple blue, Blue is the quaker-maid, The wild geranium holds its dew Long in the boulder's shade. Wax-red hangs the cup From the huckleberry boughs, In barberry bells the grey moths sup, Or where the choke-cherry lifts high up Sweet bowls for their carouse.
Over the shelf of the sandy cove Beach-peas blossom late. By copse and cliff the swallows rove Each calling to his mate. Seaward the sea-gulls go, And the land-birds all are here; That green-gold flash was a vireo, And yonder flame where the marsh-flags grow Was a scarlet tanager.
This earth is not the steadfast place We landsmen build upon; From deep to deep she varies pace, And while she comes is gone. Beneath my feet I feel Her smooth bulk heave and dip; With velvet plunge and soft upreel She swings and steadies to her keel Like a gallant, gallant ship.
These summer clouds she sets for sail, The sun is her masthead light, She tows the moon like a pinnace frail Where her phosphor wake churns bright. Now hid, now looming clear, On the face of the dangerous blue The star fleets tack and wheel and veer, But on, but on does the old earth steer As if her port she knew.
