Jean Blewett

“ If but the breeze shakes on my head,
From limb or vine, the heavy drops of dew—
Art weary Mary, weary and afraid?
MARY.
Nay, but so heavy-hearted, and so lost
To hope, so full of horrors was that day,
So full of grief, the mem’ry of it all
Will weigh upon me till my life is done.
And if I close my eyes, I see in dreams
His arms stretched out upon that cross so wide,
His head, His kingly head, crowned with the thorns.
MARY MAGDALENE.
Hush, Mary,
Or I drop upon the ground in weakness.
My friend! my tender, and my faithful friend! ”

“ Each maid-in-waiting is most fair— Note well the graces she unfurls— The winds have tossed her fluffy hair, And left it in a thousand curls.
[192] And yonder quaint, old-fashioned one, Arrayed in palest lavender, Ah! few there are, when all is done, In beauty can compare with her.
The pink—I've seen at eventide A something very like to this, A cloud adrift upon the sky, All rosy from the sun's last kiss.
Without the court, the chill and gloom Of autumn twilight o'er the land; Within, the grandeur and the bloom Of queen, of prince, and courtiers grand. ”

“ YOUR birthday, my girl with the tender eyes,
And the dower of youth and zest,
It is kind of heaven to give us this day,
When the world is looking its best,
When the crimson roses are all abloom
With their sisters of paler grace,
When the sun makes warm, and the dew makes glad
Each velvety beautiful face.
When the breeze which comes seems a heavy breath,—
From the lungs of the earth o’ergrown
With the fairest things, and the sweetest things
That ever was seen, or known,
When the bird has an added note of pride
In each carol of joy he sings,
Do you know? can you guess? ”

“ I'll tell you the sweetest thing, dear heart, I'll tell you the sweetest thing.
I'll tell you the saddest thing, dear heart, I'll tell you the saddest thing: 'Tis coming to one that we love full well, Some tender message to bring.
[235] And loitering, loitering, by the way— Held back by a foolish pride— Till it's all too late to say "Forgive!" When at length we reach her side.
For the ears are heavy and cannot hear, And the chill lips cannot move To whisper "Peace," though our hearts may break With longing, and pain, and love,
O this coming too late with our tenderness! ”

“ Wooing His Valentine
IF I could speak in phrases fine,
Full sweet the words that I would say
To woo you for my valentine
Upon this February day.
But when I strive to tell you all,
The charms I see in your dear face,
A dumbness on me seems to fall—
O, sweetheart, let me crave your grace!
I fain would say your eyes of blue,
Like violets to me appear;
Shy blossoms, filled with heaven’s dew,
That throw their sweetness far and near.
How tender are your lips of red!
How like a rose each velvet cheek!
How bright the gold upon your head—
All this I’d say, if I could speak. ”

“ With shining face and eyes that hold Such wealth of love and peace, She feels her trembling heart grow bold, Her doubt and grieving cease. "Dear Lord!" she cries, and lowly kneels, "I have a prayer to make; O do Thou hear and answer it for Thine own mercy's sake, Since heaven will not seem fair to me If one dear face I may not see.
"Dear Christ, a mother's love is great To shield, to guide, to watch, to wait. The last kiss that I gave on earth was to my wayward son, Whose soul, though deeply stainèd by sin, may yet by love be won To penitence, to higher walk, to purer, holier way ”

“ Its paths are soft to tender feet,
Stay in the baby-world my sweet!
My little maid, my little maid,
You grow too old, I am afraid,
Your tender face it seems to me,
Is filled full of expectancy.
A spirit questioning, and wise
Looks out at me from your dark eyes,
Till I am fain to hold you fast
And hide you while old Time goes past.{198}
Stay in the baby-world so new,
Its flowers are drowning in the dew,
Its paths are soft to tender feet,
Stay in the baby-world my sweet!
My little maid, my little maid,
You grow too old, I am afraid,
Five years! ”

“ I cannot echo the old wish to die at morn, as darkness strays! We have been glad together greeting some new-born radiant days, The earth would hold me, every day familiar things Would weigh me fast, The stir, the touch of morn, the bird that on swift wings Goes flitting past. Some flower would lift to me its tender tear-wet face, and send its breath To whisper of the earth, its beauty and its grace, And combat death. It would be light, and I would see in thy dear eyes The sorrow grow. Love, could I lift my own, undimmed, to paradise And leave thee so! ”

“ With Adam, a lone and a lonesome man.
Now the sunbeams kissing her golden hair,
Her cheeks, and her round arms dimpled and bare,
Seemed stamping a value of mighty wealth
On youth and love, and the bloom of health.
John looked, and looked, till his eyes grew dim,
Then tilted the hat with the worthless brim,
To hide what he would not have her see,
“You’re—you’re just worth the whole world, Nan,” said he.
“Then you are no beggar”—O sweet, bold Nan!
“You’re the whole world richer than any man.” ”

“ The laughter in his eyes of gray, the sunshine in his hair; But a man's heart, true and gallant, beat beneath the tartan plaid, And a strong right arm he boasted, did this bonnie Highland lad. Oh, the battlefield is gruesome, with its dying and its dead, But 'twas to the field of battle that the drum and bugle led— Magersfontein—and the bullets biting fiercely left and right, And the lad in kilt and hose there in the thickest of the fight. Fearful odds, and none to help them, fight they boldly, undismayed, Gallant clansmen of the north land! ”

“ Till One came to her side,
And took her hand in His, and what He said
Is past the telling; there are things the soul
Knows well, but cannot blazon to the world.
And when He went His way, upon her brow
Where shame had lain, set the sweet word, Forgiveness.
And Mary Magdalene
Did follow Him, led by a wondrous love,
Did wash His tender feet with grateful tears,
And wipe them with the soft hairs of her head.
MARY.
Joseph of Arimathea laid his form
In a new tomb. I tremble as we come
So near! and tell me, do you note a light,
Fairer than dawn, is cast on all things here. ”

“ To primrose, tulip, daffodil, The wind came piping gay and shrill:
"Wake up! wake up! while day is new, And all the world is washed with dew!"
[179]
GRACE. (June 13, 1899.)
So still you sleep upon your bed, So motionless and slender, It cannot be that you are dead, My maiden gay and tender!
You were no creature pale and meek That death should hasten after, The dimples played within your cheek, Your lips were made for laughter.
To you the great world was a place That care might never stay in, A playground built by God's good grace For glad young folks to play in. ”

“ When signs of frost appear,
You, with your sighing and roaring,
Sing to us all the year.
{147}
The Richer Man
YOU know how it is—you have had the gain,
The sweetness and pleasures of life,
I the fruitless striving, the heat to attain,
The toil, the failure, the strife.
Then we chance to come by the will of fate
To the warmth of one woman’s eyes,
And fate decrees it is not too late
To give me a great surprise.
And the woman turns with matchless grace
The bloom of her tender cheek,
And her red lips smiling—her glorious face,
Her glance so loving and meek. ”

“ The busy, bustling world to taste the sweets Of silence and of peace. We wish you well." In eager quest of what the hills might hide, Some valley of content, some spring of youth, Some deep, enchanted dell filled to the brim With subtle mysteries, allurement rare, We followed down a path, a little crooked, Wand'ring path that lost itself and found itself So oft we knew it for the playmate of the stream That went with us and sang a clamorous song— A never-ending song of flock and fold Of sea-mist and of sun—until at length We came into a valley warm and wide, A cradle 'mong the hills. ”

“ The eastern world is full of glow,
With warmer sun, and bluer sky,
And richer bloom than we can show—
At Joppa quaint, beside the sea,
When Simon Peter went to pray.
I wonder if he did not pause
Awhile to gaze on God’s great book,
To read on earth, and sea, and sky,
The smile divine, the tender look;
For when the hour of vision’s given,
The two worlds touch—our earth and heaven.
God teaches with a tenderness
That we who follow him should learn,
Hides not His glory when ’twill bless
Eyes that look up, and souls that yearn. ”

“ We steal the children's laughter shrill, We steal their joys e'er they can taste, "Why skip like young lambs on a hill? Go, get ye to your task in haste." No matter that they droop and tire, That heaven cries out against the sin, The gold, red gold, that we desire Their dimpled hands must help to win.
[222] A cheque for missions, if you please— Great God, forgive our charities!
We steal the light from lover's eyes, We hush the tale he has to tell Of pure desire, of tender ties— No man can serve two masters well. ”

“ Trod the slim path which wound its changeful way
Down the tall hill, past alders all abloom.
A girl, a young girl, is a gracious sight,
A thing to make the eye light gaily up,{91}
We see our youth in her—the joy of youth
Smiles out at us from her white-lidded eyes,
The careless grace of youth is on her lips,
The innocence of youth shines on her brow,
The prettiness of youth is on her cheek,
Her softness is the softness of a flower,
Her brightness and her beauty have the fresh
And healthy glow of morn. ”

“ Native born are we, are we, Canada, fair Canada! And the pride thrills through and through us, 'Tis our birthplace, Canada!
THE KING'S GIFT. TO E. S. R.
The new year coming to us with swift feet Is the King's gift, And all that in it lies Will make our lives more rounded and complete. It may be laughter, May be tear-filled eyes; It may be gain of love, Or loss of love; It may be thorns, or bloom and breath of flowers, The full fruition of these hopes that move— It may be what will break these hearts of ours, What matter? ”

“ Until we feel the gleam and glow Of summer pulsing through our veins, And hear the patter of the rains, And watch the green things sprout and grow.
[190] You sing of joy, and we do mark How glad a thing is life, and dear; Of sorrow, and we seem to hear The sound of sobbing in the dark.
The subtle power to sway and move, The stamp of genius strong and true, This, friend, was heaven's gift to you, This made you great and won you love.
Your song goes ringing clear and sweet— Though on earth's bosom, bare and brown, All willingly you laid you down, The music is not incomplete. ”

“ My lassie wears upon her breast
No knot of ribbon gay,
Forget-me-nots she loves the best,
Plucked at the dawn of day.
My lassie’s feet like two white mice
Go slipping through the grass,
And all the dew-drops think them nice,
And kiss them as they pass.
The satin shoe with buckle drest
Is richer, it may be,
But if the truth must be confest,
Not half so good to see.
My lassie’s face is fair to see,
My lassie’s eyes are blue,
And always do they tell to me
Her heart is fond and true. ”

“ O the gladdest thing on earth, With his piping and his chirping, is the cricket on the hearth!
[205]
EARTH TO THE TWENTIETH CENTURY.
You cannot take from out my heart the growing, The green, sweet growing, and the vivid thrill. "O Earth," you cry, "you should be old, not glowing With youth and all youth's strength and beauty still!"
Old, and the new hopes stirring in my bosom! Old, and my children drawing life from me! Old, in my womb the tender bud and blossom! Old, steeped in richness and fertility! ”

“ And left us youth, and youth’s desires,
What heights—nay never soul of man
Mounts up so high as it aspires.
The years—harsh things that steal the dew
From all that’s fair—disdained to show
Such mercy towards our purpose strong,
To learn untouched its tender glow.{194}
Not always kind, not often fair,
Since hearts so rarely constant prove
What wonder that my fervor passed,
That dulled grew the sharp edge of love?
When eyes entreating met my own,
Between would come your changeless face,
Till, thwarted, I would feel to cry,
O work, release me for a space! ”

“ But I know what I will love best of all To do at the end of the busy day, When the dusk comes down and the shadows play, And the wind sings low in the poplars tall.
I will love to get into my corner here, With the curtains drawn, and never a one To break the stillness—to sit here alone And dream of these happy days, my dear, And take my treasures from memory's hold— The tears, the laughter, the songs that were sung— O the friends we love when the heart is young Are the friends we love when the heart grows old! ”

“ Lies with a golden glory on her head,
Dreaming throughout this hour so fair—so still—
Of other days and all her mighty dead.
The white doves perch upon the cannons grim,
The flowers bloom where once did run a tide
Of crimson, when the moon rose pale and dim
Above the battlefield so grim and wide.
Methinks within her wakes a mighty glow
Of pride, of tenderness—her stirring past—
The strife, the valor, of the long ago
Feels at her heartstrings. Strong, and tall, and vast,
She lies, touched with the sunsets golden grace,
A wondrous softness on her grey old face. ”

“ Did you send your song to the gates of gold In the days of long ago? A song of sweetness and gladness untold, Till fain was my lady to have and to hold— Ah! my lady did not know.
'Tis love and joy make the soul of a song, If we only understood. Can each strain be tender, and true, and strong, When the days stretch out so weary and long, Dear little bird of the wood?
The sun came so boldly into your cell— 'Tis the springtime, pretty bird— And full sweet the story he had to tell Of doings in meadow and wood and dell, Till your longing grew and stirred. ”

“ Ah, the springtime of life, its bloom and its glow,
The heart can never forget,{184}
My sweetbriar maid I would give to-day,
The wealth, the fame and the gold
That the years have brought, if they’d roll away,
And leave us the thrill of old.
If only straight backward old time would move—
(Ah, wishing is all in vain) ,
And leave us with youth, and joy, and love,
Deep down in that winding lane.
My Canada
MY Canada! ”

“ Not a fault could I remember—she'd been perfect all her days, With her sweetness and her laughter, her tender womanly ways. Dead—dead in her fresh young beauty—oh, I had an anguished heart At thought of the quarrel ending in our agreeing to part!
When two people love each other, I'll tell you the wisest way, 'Tis to think before speaking harshly, for there surely will come a day When one will sleep on so soundly that he or she will not wake, The other sit in the stillness and cry with a great heart-break. ”

“ With Her Sunshine, Breeze and Dew
JOYOUS May has come again
With her sunshine, breeze and dew,
Holding up her silken train,
See the blossoms, sweet and new.
Here a yellow primrose shows
All the world a heart of gold,
There a scarlet tulip glows,
By the breeze made overbold.
Joyous May, we welcome you,
Welcome you and all you bring,
Skies so shining and so blue,
Birds to twitter and to sing,
Children on the green to play,
Blushing maid, and eager swain,
At your coming, joyous May,
All the world grows young again. ”

“ What is the grandest thing of all— Is it winning Heaven some day? No, and a thousand times say no; 'Tis making this old world thrill and glow With the sun of love till each shall know Something of Heaven here below, And God's well done for our pay.
[146]
STRENGTH.
Write on Life's tablet all things tender, great and good, Uncaring that full oft thou art misunderstood. Interpretation true is foreign to the throng That runs and reads; heed not its praise or blame. Be strong! Write on with steady hand, and, smiling, say, "'Tis well!" If when thy deeds spell Heaven The rabble read out Hell. ”

“ In hunger of the heart, and pain, In loneliness, and longing vain, You pay the debt to-morrow!
Prince, let grim Fate take what she will Of treasures rare, of joys that thrill, Enact the cruel usurer's part, Leave empty arms and hungry heart, Take what she can of love and trust, Take all life's gladness, if she must, Take meeting smile and parting kiss— The benediction and the bliss. What then? The fairest thing of all Is ours, O Prince, beyond recall— Not even Fate would dare to seize Our store of golden memories. ”

“ THE LAKE SHORE ROAD.
'Tis noon, the meadow stretches in the sun, And every little spear of grass uplifts its slimness to the glow To let the heavy-laden bees pass out.
A stream comes at a snail's pace through the gloom Of shrub and fern and brake, Leaps o'er a wall, goes singing on to find The coolness of the lake.
A wild rose spreads her greenness on a hedge, And flings her tinted blossoms in the air; The sweetbriar neighbors with that porcupine Of shrubs, the gooseberry; with parasol Of white the elderberry shades her head And dreams of purple fruit and wine-press chill. ”

“ I built a castle in the air— A radiant thing made out of dreams; Love's dear desire its golden stair— Naught heavier than a hope was there— A thing of mist and rainbow gleams.
But when it fell—ah! when it fell, Though made o' dreams and mist and shine, The mystery of it who can tell? Its falling shook both heaven and hell, And ground to dust this heart of mine.
YOUTH AND JUNE.
I was your lover long ago, sweet June, Ere life grew hard; I am your lover still, And follow gladly to the wondrous tune You pipe on golden reeds to vale and hill. ”

“ Youth shone within her eyes, where God had set All steadfastness, and high resolve, and truth; Youth flushed her cheek, dwelt on the smooth white brow Whereon the heavy golden circlet lay.
The ashes of dead kings, the history of A nation's growth, of strife, and victory, The mighty past called soft through aisle and nave: "Be strong, O Queen; be strong as thou art fair!" A virgin, white of soul and unafraid, Since back of her was God, and at her feet A people loyal to the core, and strong, And loving well her sweetness and her youth. ”

“ When Satan sends—to vex the mind of man And urge him on to meanness and to wrong— His satellites, there is not one that can Acquit itself like envy. Not so strong As lust, so quick as fear, so big as hate— A pigmy thing, the twin of sordid greed— Its work all noble things to underrate, Decry fair face, fair form, fair thought, fair deed, A sneer it has for what is highest, best, For love's soft voice, and virtue's robe of white; Truth is not true, and pity is not kind, A great task done is but a pastime light. ”

“ We are but children still, the years Have never taught us to be bold, For mark our trembling and our fears When sometimes, as in days of old, We in the darkness lie awake, And see come stealing to our side A ghostly throng—the grave Mistake, The Failure big, the broken Pride.
For O! the things we see at night— The dragons grim, the goblins tall, And, worst of all, the ghosts in white That range themselves along the wall!
How close they creep! How big they loom! The Task which waits, the Cares which creep; A child, affrighted in the gloom, We fain would hide our head and weep. ”

“ A woman in her youth, but lost to all The joys of innocence. Love she had known, Such love as leaves the soul filled full of shame. Passion was hers, hate and impurity, The gnawing of remorse, the longing vain To lose the mark of sin, the scarlet flush Of fallen womanhood, the envy of The spotless, the desire that they might sink Low in the mire as she. ”

“ A face uplifted, pure and sweet, Two blue eyes filled with trust and love; Enough, the sea sings at our feet, The harvest moon sails just above.
[168]
A GOOD WOMAN.
Her eyes are the windows of a soul Where only the white thoughts spring, And they look, as the eyes of the angels look, For the good in everything.
Her lips can whisper the tenderest words That weary and worn can hear, Can tell of the dawn of a better morn Till only the cowards fear.
Her hands can lift up the fallen one From an overthrow complete, Can take a soul from the mire of sin And lead it to Christ's dear feet. ”

“ Not all of laughter; the world went wrong, And the shadows pressed till my heart was sore. I'll never be glad, I said, any more, Never be happy, or gay, or strong.
[230] O the sweetest thing in the hour of pain Is to have one near us who understands, To touch us gently and hold our hands, Till our strength and courage come back again. At love's swift pace you hurried to me— Your tender words they will ring in my ears When I sit and dream after long, long years— The shine in your eyes through the mists I'll see. ”

“ SPRING.
O the frozen valley and frozen hill make a coffin wide and deep, And the dead river lies, all its laughter stilled within it, fast asleep.
The trees that have played with the merry thing, and freighted its breast with leaves, Give never a murmur or sigh of woe—they are dead— no dead thing grieves.
No carol of love from a song-bird's throat; the world lies naked and still, For all things tender, and all things sweet, have been touched by the gruesome chill. ”

“ I know, dear Christ, how hard it is," I whispered as I kneeled, "For long ago my bonnie boy fell on the battlefield. Find comfort for the broken hearts of those weighed down to-day With love and longing for the ones in danger far away."
"They will not shrink," the Bishop prayed, "nor fear a soldier's grave; Nay, each man will acquit himself like Briton true and brave. [63] God of battles, march with them, keep guard by day and night, And arm them with a trust in Thee when they go up to fight!" ”

“ Do you not know What tender things you bear with you away?
"I'm thinking, sitting in the soft gloom here, Of all the riches that were mine the day There crept down on the world the soft New Year, A rosy thing with promise filled, and gay.
"But twelve short months ago! a little space In which to lose so much—a whole life's wealth Of love and faith, youth and youth's tender grace— Things that are wont to go from us by stealth. ”