John L. Stoddard

“ For I, who love this classic lake,
And cruise along its storied shores,
See Roman galleys in my wake,
And hear the stroke of phantom oars.
It matters not which way I steer,
Or if my course be slow or fast,
The Pagan world seems always near;
I sail, companioned by the Past.
RETIREMENT Spirit of solitude, silence, and rest,
Take me once more, like a child, to your breast!
Weary of worldliness, turmoil, and hate,
Welcome me back, if it be not too late,
Back to the realm of ideals and dreams,
Hush of the forest and cadence of streams!
What have I found in life's whirlpool of haste? ”

“ The Yellowstone Park is the arena of an amphitheatre in which fire and water, the two great forces which have made our planet what it is, still languidly contend where formerly they struggled desperately for supremacy. But the Grand Cañon of Arizona is Nature wounded unto death, and lying stiff and ghastly with a gash, two hundred miles in length and a mile in depth, in her bared breast, from which is flowing fast a stream of life-blood called the Colorado. ”

“ They err who say that Greece is dead. She cannot die. The Language of Demosthenes is still extant. Not only are its accents heard within the shadow of the Parthenon; it is so interwoven with our own, that we unconsciously make use of its old words, as one walks on a pavement of mosaic, unmindful whence its pieces came. The Greek Religion lives in every statue of the gods, in every classical allusion, in every myth which poets weave into the garland of their song. What could a sculptor do without the gods and heroes of old Greek mythology? ”

“ To-day the bloom of Spring, Ninon, to-morrow frost!
What! Thou canst starless sail, and fear not to be lost?
Canst travel without book? In silence march to strife?
What! thou hast not known love, and yet canst talk of life?
I for a little love would give my latest breath;
And, if deprived of love, would gladly welcome death!
What matter if the day be at its dusk or dawn,
If from another's life our own heart's life be drawn?
O youthful flowers, unfold! If blown o'er Death's cold stream,
This life is but a sleep, of which love is the dream ”

“ Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear:
Those days are gone—but Beauty still is here.
States fall, arts fade,—but Nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!"
To the lover of the beautiful in Nature the most enchanting characteristic of this City of the Sea is its sunset glow. Italian sunsets are all beautiful; but those of Venice are the loveliest of all. Their softness, brilliancy and splendor cannot be described. ”

“ It is a wonderful experience to ride for such a distance in a perfectly level valley, and see an uninterrupted range of mountains, eight thousand feet in height, rising abruptly from the plain like the long battle-line of an invading army. What adds to its impressiveness is the fact that these peaks are, for the entire country which they dominate, the arbiters of life and death. Beyond them, on one side, the desert stretches eastward for a thousand miles; upon the other, toward the ocean, whose moisture they receive and faithfully distribute, extends this valley of delight. ”

“ Who fears, distrusts, and hates his race;
I merely wish them to pass by,
And seek some other lounging-place;
For, frankly, I should love them more
A little further from my door.
In vain I make no answering calls;
They blandly smile and come again!
Nay, even bring within my walls
More curious strangers in their train,
"Who wished so much your home to see!"
Why do they never think of me?
The few I want I can invite;
Hence why should others thus intrude?
How dare they give themselves the right,
Unasked, to spoil my solitude? ”

“ Most of us are not living, we are anticipating life. We are always "going to our country seats." It is the land we have not visited that is to give to us our greatest happiness. If we have not yet found it in America, it is awaiting us in Europe; if not in Europe, surely in Japan. As the Germans say, "Da wo ich nicht bin, da ist das Glück." Hence travel is attractive, if only as a means of acquiring that happiness which here seems so elusive. All of us hope to some day visit Europe and the Orient, and for that reason everything pertaining to their beauty, art, and history seems alluring. ”

“ Accordingly, we lingered on the massive ledges of the Castle Geyser, and learned that it is the largest, probably the oldest, of all the active geyser cones within the Park. Once its eruptions were no doubt stupendous; but now its power is waning. The gradual closing up of its huge throat, and the increasing substitution of steam for water, prove that the monster has now entered on the final stage of its career; for here, as on the terraces, we are surrounded by specimens of life, decay, and death. The young, the middle-aged, the old, the dead,—they are all here! ”

“ Thy happy fate to see no rival claim
A share in what was thine without alloy;
How must the remnant of thy life seem tame!
Yet this thy recompense,—that thou dost keep
Thy friend and lover safe from every change;
For, loyal to thy love, he fell asleep,
And life it is, not death, that can estrange.
THE DEATH OF ANTONINUS PIUS Through the marble gates of Ostia,
Where the Tiber meets the sea,
And a hundred Roman galleys
Strain their leashes to be free,
Streams a flood of sunset glory
From the classic sea of old,
Till Rome's seven hills stand gleaming,
And the Tiber turns to gold. ”

“ Far happier, therefore, seems another waterfall of Switzerland,—the Reichenbach; for this is left comparatively undisturbed within its mountain solitude. Far off, upon a mountain crest, a blue lake, set like a sapphire amid surrounding glaciers, serves as a cradle for this new-born river. Thence it emerges, timidly at first, to make its way down to the outer world. With each descent, however, it gains fresh impetus and courage. Return is now impossible. The die is cast. Its fate is now decided. We almost wish that we could check its course amid this beautiful environment. ”

“ Old castles frown above the maddened stream, a thousand times more grand than any ruins on the Rhine. Their towers are five hundred feet in height. Turrets and battlements, portcullises and draw-bridges, rise from the deep ravine, sublime and inaccessible; yet they are still a thousand feet below us! What would be the effect could we survey them from the stream itself, within the gloomy crevice of the cañon? Only their size convinces us that they are works of Nature, not of Art. ”

“ Every one must make a choice,
Life is based on compensation;
You have nothing but your voice,
I have more, ... but more vexation!
Minstrel, you at least are free;
Give your smile to slaves like me!
SECLUSION Shut out the World, shut in the Home!
The sea is deeper than its foam;
Retain the gem, reject the paste;
Withdraw from Mammon's feverish haste,
Its tumult and its senseless waste.
Within are love, and books, and flowers,—
Creators of life's happiest hours;
Without are those whose baneful call,
If once they pass within thy wall,
May blight the beauty of it all. ”

“ Switzerland, then, of all countries in the world, is the one of which the traveler is likely to tire least. The vision of its kingly Alps must always thrill the heart with exultation. Its noble roads and unsurpassed hotels make rest or travel on its heights delightful; while the keen tonic of its mountain air restores the jaded frame, as ancients dreamed a draught would do from the pure fountain of perpetual youth. ”

“ Sometimes two flashes at a time ran quivering through the air and launched their bolts upon the mountain shrines, as though their altars, having been erected for idolatrous worship, were doomed to be annihilated. Occasionally, through an opening in the clouds, the sun would suddenly light up the summit of a mountain, or flash a path of gold through a ravine; and I shall never forget the curious sensation of seeing far beneath me bright sunshine in one cañon and a violent storm in another. ”

“ Coming from Menaggio!
Sound again, O Christmas bells!
"Peace on Earth" your song foretells.
It has come, in truth, to one
Whose long pilgrimage is done.
Merciful her quick release,
Blessèd her eternal peace!
Yet I know that, day by day,
As she no more comes my way,
I shall miss her, as I go
To and from Menaggio.
EVENING ON LAKE COMO Beside my garden's ivied wall,
Enwreathed in vines of gold and green,
I stand, as evening shadows fall,
And marvel at the matchless scene,
While wavelets make, with rhythmic beat,
Perpetual music at my feet. ”

“ Then only can one thoroughly enjoy its outdoor life. However sultry it may be on land, in Venice it is reasonably cool, and the broad bosom of the Adriatic, as it swells and falls, breathes through the streets of Venice the delicious freshness of the sea. At such a time, to idly float upon this beautiful expanse, dreaming of art and history (perchance of love) , through the sweet, tranquil hours which bear upon their noiseless wings the hint of a repose still held in the unfolded hands of Night,—that is happiness,—that is rest! ”

“ Two-thirds across this continent, hidden away in the heart of the Rocky Mountains, eight thousand feet above the level of the sea, there lies a marvelous section of our earth, about one-half as large as the State of Connecticut. On three sides this is guarded by lofty, well-nigh inaccessible mountains, as though the Infinite Himself would not allow mankind to rashly enter its sublime enclosure. In this respect our Government has wisely imitated the Creator. It has proclaimed to all the world the sanctity of this peculiar area. ”

“ Far from the great lake's pride,
Over the ocean vast,
Two faces picture, side by side,
The future and the past.
On one is the flush of dawn
And the light of the morning star;
On the other a shade, from knowledge drawn
And the dusk of the sunset bar.
One brow has the spotless sweep
Of a page that is white and fair;
The other forehead is graven deep
With lines of thought and care.
The eyes of the child look out
On a world all pure and sweet;
But those of the man are sad from doubt
And a knowledge of men's deceit.
To the baby's dainty ears
Only love's accents flow ”