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Class
Book.



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Copyright ]J^__.



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT.



POEMS



Br

WILLIAM A. QUAYLE



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CINCINNATI: JENNINGS AND GRAHAM
NEW YORK: EATON AND MAINS









^ ^ •^V^kx'^



COPTBIGHT, 1914,

BY William A. Qcatle



JUL 27 1914

©CI,A3 7i9 5 2



Contents



Page

Love Comes, 15

My Prayer, 16

An Autumn Camp, 17

A Dream, - - - - 18

Not Bound, But Free, 19

The Spring Wind, 20

A Hymn of Reform, 21

The Poor Man's Prayer, - - - - 22

The Poet, 22

To Serve To-day, 23

Kismet, 24

The Wings at Night, 25

A Thought of Life, 26

God's Better Things, 27

A Battle Dream, 28

The Will of God, - - - - - - 29

A Quatrain, - -29

The Violet Saith, 30

Trust, 30

The Storm, 31

The Summer Wind, 32

The Nightless Day, 32

On Window-Panes, 33

3



Page

The Shadows Lengthen; It Will Soon Be Night, 34

A Song of the Journey, - - - - - 35

The Snow at Night, 37

When Twilight Beckons Back Her Stars, - 38

A-Fishing, 39

The Song, 40

Mother, 41

A Pact With Death, 43

The Sea-Wreck, - 44

An Angel Said, 45

When Autumn Fades, 46

Unafraid, 47

At Holiday, 48

Sonnet, 52

Voices, 53

The Bending of the Bow, - - - - 54

The Autumn Wind, 56

The Victor, 57

I^i'EEL the Hill Winds on My Cheek, - 57

Sin, 58

When April Heals Wild Winter's Scars, - 60

God's Symphony, 60

Thou Art My Lord, 61

When Love Is Gone, 62

Good-Night, 62

4



Page

The North Wind, 63

The Heart-Cry, 63

Bereft, 64

Beside the Sea, - 65

The Soul, 66

Blow, Wind of God, 67

My Torch, - - 68

Afterwhiles, 68

Haste, My Hand, - - - . . - 69

The Grapes Which Grew on Thorny Stems, 70

A Son of the Vikings, I 71

An Arrow, 72

Desert Goldenrod, 73

Uphill, 74

The Hills of God 75

The Wind of God, 76

Too Late, 77

The Music of Running Water, - - - 78

A Hymn at Christmas, 80

My Rosary, 81

The Dreamer, 82

Toward Manhood, 82

Unlonely Loneliness, 83

Sea Sonnets, 84

A Quatrain, 86

5



Page

The Ford, - - 87

The Wistful Years, 88

If, - 89

When All My Life is Gathered in a Sheaf, - 90

Slain, 91

Dear Heart, 92

Mistaken, 92

The Clouds, 93

The Hill of Loss, - - - 94

Unfaith, - - 95

On the Stair, 96

To Bring to Morn the Day for Which Earth
Yearned, - - - - - - 97

Enough, 98

This, I Said, 99

I Lie Amidst Red Clover Blooms, - - - 100

Soul Loquitur, 100

Who Quireth Now Along the Hills, - - - 101
The Harp That Once Was Mine, - - - 102

Beside a Brook, 103

Who Lit Yon Star? 103

Sonnet, 104

A Man I Knew, 104

The Tiger Flower, 105

6



Page

A Lullaby, 106

The Building of the Hut, 108

Harvestless, - -110

Wild Clematis, 110

My God, to Thee, Ill

Spring Cometh, Ill

She Wore a Kertle Willow-green, - - 112
Fain Would I Listen in the Hush of Bells, - 113

MoRiTURUs Saluto, 114

The Wistful Days, -114

Eastertide, 115

Morning on Eastward Mountains, - - - 116

December-June, - 116

I Love Thy Cross, 117

Beset, -._ ng

Forecast, 119

The Sea in Sleep, -119

A Hymn of Serving, - - - 120

No Night is There, 121

Forgive Me, Lord, 122

I Care Not, 123

He Loved the Dusk, 124

A Work Song, 126

The Sparrow, 127

When Spring Comes Home, - - - - 128

7



Page

A Prayer, 130

Violets, 131

I Saw the Christ Where Battle Shocked, - - 132

My Home, 133

Lord of Need, for Thee I Grope! - - - 134

A Father's Grave, 135

The Voices, 136

Hope, 137

1 Work My Work — Three Sonnets, - - - 138

I Met Old Care, - 140

Old Care Met Christ, 142

Sonnet, 143

Prairie Wind, 144

October, - - 145

Lord, to be Kept, 146

I Saw a Boat at Anchor on a Bay, - - 147

Fearfulness Makes Estimate of Himself, - 148

The Martyr, - - - - - - - 150

My Prairies, 151

Friend, Rest Thee! 153

Sea! 154

At Night, 155

1 Plucked a Feather from an Eagle's Wing - 156
Nor Reckoned on the Miracle of Spring, - 157
Not Here, - - - - 158

8



Page

The Poet's Thoughts, 159

When Doubts Arise, - - - 160

Life Dawdled with Me Smiling Many a Year, 161
Far Went the Road and Winding, - - _ 162

The Hand of God, 164

The Hush of Evening Settles on My Heart, - 165

A Summer Night, 166

Across All Worlds I Think One Day to Stride, 168
I Know a Glorious Mountain Where the Day, 169
This Day I Front Me on Eternity, - - - 170

I Rest, Content, 171

I Climb the Hills, 172

I Think of Him, 173

Heart's Desire, 174

I Saw the Leader of an Orchestra, - - 175
I Know a Wildwood Coppice, - - - - 176
Great Swordless Captain, - - - - 178

Out of the Deeps, 179

The Vapor Spoke, 180

An Easter Hymn, 181

The Return, 182

I Found a Broken Harp Upon the Ground, - 183

An Angel Came, 184

Beyond the Gates, 185

The Tavern of the Comforted, - - - 186

9



Page

Life, Be Stern, 188

A Hymn, 190

Wings, 191

Along the Ceilings of My Being's Rooms, - 192

All's Well, 193

Child Dreams, 194

The Blessed Book, 195

Hymn, 196

1 Saw an Angel With a Smiling Face, - - 197
Then God Takes a Hand, _ . - - 198
I Saw the Swift Evanishment of Night, - - 199

Thou Shalt Not, 200

A Resurrection Song, 202

The Desert Journey, 203

Where Lies That Land? 205

I Stood at Bay Among Tall, Ragged Peaks, - 207

Thy City, Lord, 208

Shakespeare, - - 209

My Life Walks Out Into the Dawn, - - - 210

My Soul, One Question, 211

Ulysses and the Sea, 212

The Years, 215

When Through the Dark I Grope, - - - 216

Trust, 217

The Welcome, 218

10



Page

Fear Not, 219

God Cares for Thee, 220

Light at Eventide, 221

There is Dusk for the Day, . _ _ _ 221
As One Who Tugged at by the Sleeve Awakes, 222
The Christ, 223



11



oems



Vy T]



Love Comes

Before the Coming

am weary, weary!"
The weary watcher said.
"My life is dreary, dreary:
Grief stabs and Hope is deado

"Oh, I am weary, weary!
Nor know I where to turn,
Life is so very dreary;
I sigh and sob and yearn.

"Oh, I am weary, weary!

The sad sea's toss and flow
Are not so dreary, dreary.
As my insistent woe."

Love Comes

"Now I am weary, weary.

But laugh and call and sing:
Life is not dreary, dreary.
But gracious as the Spring."



15



My Prayer

10RD of my mercies, let my prayer
-^ Engage Thy heart. Thou knowest where
And how I dwell and what my need,
What wounds I bear and how they bleed.

Thou knowest how my battle fares.
What shame betimes its banner wears:
But how, although amiss I fight,
Thee ever, only Thee, I sight.

O Helper God, O Christ divine,
Fight Thou within this heart of mine;
Since if Thou dost my battle share.
My banner shall God's triumph wear.



16



An Autumn Camp

UPON a windy autumn hill
I camp among the blowing leaves,
That whirl and fall and sadly fill
The hollows and the empty nests.
All day winds whimper through the trees
With plaintive lonesomeness of tune;
All day the wistful sunlight flees
As from a huntsman on its track.
The hill is crowned with solemn woods,
Some naked as a sheathless sword.
Some glorious as with fiery hoods
That holy, ancient martyrs wore.
Some, piebald greens and golds and reds,
A chequer work of radiant dyes
Like tapestries of gorgeous shreds
And meant to pave the autumn floors.
The clouds are like a flock of swans
That slowly wheel to voyage south.
And ere another morning dawns
Will vanish, to appear no more.
My fire is built with branch and leaves
The winds have hacked from burly trunks;
And while the wind, unceasing, grieves.
The fire emits its fragrant smoke

2 17



Which whirls, in eddies slow and blue,

Uneager to escape the place.

And sails my little coppice through

Like some dim sky that slants and falls.

And in the night the moon is bright

And slowly smiles from sky to sky;

And all the middle night has light

That streams through slumbers dreamily.

And all the night the wild winds walk

Across the tree-tops like the waves,

And interchange melodious talk

Like dialogues of Plato's days.

The habitable world is lost

Upon this lonesome autumn hill.

And care-full cares are plucked and tost

Like leaves upon a hurrying stream.



A D



ream



I



DREAMED I held the hand of God

Across my heart at rest.
And felt that peace whose storm is calm

Hold kingship in my breast.



18



I



Not Bound But Free

N truth, we cast not dice

In shuffler's hand, the price
Of outcome good or bad,
The only to be had.

Nay ! not a dice-box chance,
But forged sword or lance.
To win the war we wage
To be the prince or sage.

Not blind Fate owns the sky:
God wills we live, not die.
We plow and tend the earth
While God and we grow worth.

Not on our neck the heel
That tramples dead our weal,
But in our hand the rod
Bequeathed to us of God.

And Omar's tavern gray.
With Death and Life at play,
Is not our hostelry —
We be high-born and free.

19



Not red rose but white flower
Henceforth shall be our dower.
We challenge war with Fate
And take the road elate.



o



The Spring Wind

H, I am like the shimmer
Of sunlight on the wheat!

My voices, they are dimmer
Than lovers', when they meet.

My feet are further going

Than waves that walk the sea;

The wild-flowers are a-blowing
And laugh out loud for me.

Oh, I am Springtime's lover,
That wooes with kisses swift,

And flowers like blushes cover
Where, late, pale snows did drift.

Oh, I am called the Spring W^ind,
And am in naught forlorn,

And am unto the stars kinned.
And to the dewy morn!

20



.«.**'•



A Hymn of Reform

nPHOU who didst bring, in days of old,
•■• God's message from above,

Dwell in our hearts, lest they grow cold,
Forgetful of Thy love.

Thou Fire of God, for Thee we pray

Our sacrifice to burn.
So that the thing we do this day

May God's approval earn.

For Thou hast made us, in our day.

Reformers of the world —
Elijahs who, with Ahabs, may

Into the fight be hurled.

As with Elijah, long ago,
Thou didst Thy forces join.

And make the heedless heathen know
Thy sword was at Thy loin,

So join with us and bring our fight

To a victorious peace;
Because for Thee, and by Thy might,

We war and never cease.



The Poor Man's Prayer

A POOR man prayed and fumbled o'er
His heart's petitions one by one,
And humbly kneeled upon the floor
Of rented tenement, where sun

Hath neither morn nor noon. The damp,
Ill-smelling room was windowless.

From month to year he used a lamp
To read God's Book with a caress.

This poor man cried; and from the Height
Of morning hills God heard his prayer.

And shined upon his heart a light

Which banished all his want and care.



A'



The Poet

N angel, flying through the sky,

Let fall a leaf from his heart's book;

Nor knew his loss, but wondered why
A shining face from earth did look.

A Poet, on a day of thought

Sublime, high-dreamed, and wild-rose flame,
The falling leaf perceived and caught.

Transcribed the scroll, and conquered fame.



I



To Serve To-day

F I but serve my day,
If I can help its May
To June, then God be praised.

If only through brief years
I may wipe sorrow's tears
Away, then God be praised.

If on the way I walk,

I may with kindly talk

Help men, then God be praised.

If only while I stay,

I shall make glad the way

Of some, then God be praised

Not immortality

I crave as boon to me.

But help for men amazed.

And blest beyond compare
Their joy and care to share.
If so, may God be praised.

23



To serve the where I dwell,
To serve it kindly, well,
If so, my God be praised.

Not dateless years to stay.
But just to serve to-day:
And thus, may God be praised.



Kismet

CAGED bird.
Thou canst not fly:
Hope deferred,
Now sing and die.



^



The Wings at Night

1 HEARD the beat of wings one night,
Of wings as strong as winds of storm:
I felt in them resistless might:
I guessed their majesty of form.

I rose and stood beneath the dome

Of the stooped heavens, that stoop so high,

While through those spacious spaces roam
Those wings of angels of the sky.

Oft had I heard the boom of seas

Break on a rock-bound, barren coast.

But never melody like these
Rejoicing wings of angel host.



((



And whither fly you, wings of night;
And how far wing you, pinions strong?"
But these nor tarry in their flight,
Nor weary though the flight be long.

I heard the beat of angel wings:
I heard their pinions music make

As when a heavenly chorus sings
And from their spirits music shakes.

25



Their flight — the flight of wings of power,
Though not a word those angels spake—

Hath helped me many a weary hour
And made my soul strong courage take.

To know that while I walk the Earth
White wings patrol the lofty sky

Brings to me showers in days of dearth
And cheer and song of courage high.



A Thought of Life

npHE thing I thought was life,
1 That life was not —

A transitory cause,
A scribbler's blot.

What I thought life was not.
That thing life was —
A Glory beyond thought.
Without a pause.



m



M



God's Better Things

S one who holds a letter in his hand

With seal unbroke, and looks away and dreams.

Both near and far unseen, forgot, while streams
White light on him and what he holds ; unplanned
This strange neglect as heartache in a land

Of spring, though what the letter holds he
deems

Of lesser worth and merit; dreaming seems
Diviner good, beneath whose shade to stand, —
Thus I, who hold this earthly life a boon
Worth holding, and worth loving too, do still
Esteem it of less value than the vast
Expected life on which I enter soon.
When earth's schooldays are ended and the thrill
Of pain and death and resurrection past.



27



I



A Battle Dream

DREAMED that in a battle I was slain,

And lay, face downward, with a host of dead.

The fight still piped its clamorous refrain.
And living men their precious life-blood shed.

In death I felt the earth, dead-drunk with blood,
Ache under all the crush of angry war.

And felt the charge on charge succeed — a flood —
And heard the triumph of what I died for.

And then, though dead, I stumbled to my feet
And shook my hacked sword in my bleeding
hand.

And called, above the roar of guns, *'I greet.
Though dead, my loved, my liberated land."

And then I heard the bloody swords seek sheath;

And all the plunging shots grew mute of breath.
I felt War's red hands weave a victor's wreath

To guerdon, with a shout, my brow in death.



28



The Will of God

T^E will of God, that arches all;
•■• It springs a sky above our hearts,
And brings into our lives a call

Which never from our strength departs.

The will of God, that thunder rolls
And challenges the lives of men

In converse with all kindred souls,
And guides them to a diadem.

The will of God! The angels bow
Their shining faces on their hands

And make to God their holy vow
To walk the way His will demands.

The will of God, that bridges Time

And all eternities to be.
And makes a universe sublime

Fit subject of the Deity.

A Quatrain

1MIX my tears with songs,
Because my woes embark
i~ In righting earth's black wrongs
And shutting out earth's dark.
29



I



I



The Violet Saith

GIVE scant heed," a violet said,
"Whether to live or to be dead.
I have one simple ministry
Which is the sum of life to me.

I have a call from God to bloom.
What, after that, are death and tomb?
My lips have kissed the royal sun;
When that is come, my race is run.'*

Trust

F God wilt stay beside me

When life's mercies turn to dust,

Then joy and peace abide me.
And I dwell in perfect trust.

Men beat their shields together
And they think to make me fear;

But I am careless whether
I shall journey There or Here.

If Thou wilt walk beside me,

Then my heart shall lift its psalm,

For joy and peace abide me;
And in storm-time I am calm.
30



The Storm



T,



HIS way

The tempest passed, and slew

The gray
Tree-multitudes that knew

Not Death
By name, but solely thought

A breath
Of grandeur swept and caught

Their hands
In passing, and would loose

Their bands
Of might in kindly truce

Of storms,
And they should lift once more

Their forms
As in glad days of yore.

But now
They know the way of Death,

And how
He strikes, nor light nor breath

Has song.
From this day forth their sky

Shall long
For music till it die.



The Summer Wind



o



MY breath is hot

With kissing the wheat;
And my Hps have caught

Her kisses so fleet.



The Nightless Day

'TTHERE is a land of nightless day,
1 Where gloomy shadows never rise;
Where twilights come not, dim and gray.
To shame and darken Glory's skies.

This is God's Land, His land and mine.
Of spring-time morning, chaste delight.

With service radiant and fine.

Which needs no respite and no night.

My heart sings glad and wistful hymns,
What time it foldeth hands to pray;

But all its lonely longing dims

While dreaming of this nightless day.



32



On Window-Panes

IN Winter days, on window-panes,
Fair Summers dream their gladness o'er.
And grow dim, shadowy, restful lanes
Of elm tree and of sycamore.

I watch the glass and, watching, see

Dear Summers flushed with radiant June,

And hear the song-bird, wild with glee.
And insects drone their drowsy tune.

I see far mountains wrapped in blue.
And clouds that drift along the sky,

And valleys where, with variant hue.

The wild-flowers bloom and, blooming, die.

I see the shaggy mountains throw
On high their plumes of oak and pine.

And roses in hid gardens grow
Their garlands ruddy as old wine.

On window-panes ! There Summer springs
Like lark into deep skies of blue.

And lifts itself on singing wings

From meadow nest begemmed with dew.

33



Without, the winter-blast sings loud
And trumpets like an angry bard:

Within, Spring, with its wind and cloud.
Drifts incense sweet as precious nard.



The Shadows Lengthen; It Will Soon

Be Night

THE shadows lengthen; it will soon be night.
Against the western mountains blackness
crowds.
Though glory makes the eastern summits bright,
The stars will soon be flocking, clouds on clouds.

My shadows lengthen; it will soon be night.

My groping-call will mingle with the wind.
Howbeit, I shall clamber, height on height.

And everlasting sunrise duly find.



34



A Song of the Journey

I AM going on my journey, glad with joy from dawn
to dark
With the spirit of the morning and the carol of the

lark:
I am drinking at those fountains whence the living

waters flow,
I am hearing heaven's music as along my way

I go.
And my heart is full of laughter, like the singing of a

psalm;
My sky bends blue above me with its winds of

evening balm;
And I know not any trouble, for I have the Tempest's

King
To change my Winter's fury to the gladness of His

Spring.

I have heard my Master calling, and His voice is

music sweet;
And He bids me march right forward, nor dream of

a retreat.
He says His Land of Beulah lies before me, out of

sight.
Where reigns the deathless daylight, never shadowed

by the night.

35



He bids me do my duty, though humble it may be,
And do what thing Hes nearest in glad humility;
For Christ is one that serveth, and thinks no service

mean
That helps the world's endeavors to help its heart be

clean.

So I walk highways and byways; and my hands are

rough with toil
As I try to make a garden out of hard, mfertile soil;
But I see God's flowers a-growing where there grew

no flowers before;
And my life is full of gladness, as I work God's

work the more.
Bless God! My lot is holy like a temple with its

calm;
And I envy not an angel, with his harp-song and his

palm.
For I am God's own helper; and He calls me by my

name.
And says my work is holy as a sacrificial flame.

So I go along my journey, glad with joy from dawn

to dark
With the spirit of the morning and the carol of the

lark,

36



For I drink at those bright fountains whence the
living waters flow,

And I hear heaven's gladsome music as along my
way I go.

And my heart is full of laughter, like the singing of a
psalm ;

My sky bends blue above me with its wind of even-
ing balm;

And I know not any trouble, for I have the Tempest's
King

To change my Winter's fury to the gladness of His
spring.



The Snow at Night

nPHE fields and woods are white with dust,
1 Blown in the night from stars remote,
That shineth pure like holy trust
Which good men unto God devote.



37



When Twilight Beckons Back Her Stars

WHEN Twilight beckons back her stars
Into the blue, unfretted sky,
And blackbirds from horizon bars
Unto their nestplace homeward fly,

Then is the hour for tired hearts

To lean them toward their rest on God;

To scan, through tears, the heavenly charts
That guide them home from far abroad.

The twilight comes to aching breasts

That know not how pain's day can cease,

Nor dream that they may be the guests
Of the unseen Eternal Peace.



m



A-Fishing

'WEET was the meadow scent,
^ And blue the sky,
When we a-fishing went,
My rod and I.

Cares stayed at home, in bed,

While we went free:
And scurvy care is dead

To such as we.

Green was the summer land:

The air was balm;
Fair the bleak pine-trees stand:

My heart was calm.

Out on the river's rim

My spirit sings
Roundels of praise to Him

Who Summer brings.

So, while fair morning drifts,

Fishing I go.
Down through the green wood's rifts

Warm sunlights glow.

39



Glad laughter takes my hand

And holds it tight
As through this summer land

I stray till night.



u



The Song

P through the heavens

Flew the lark, free and far:

Down through the heavens
Sped his song, like a star.



40



Mother

BEFORE I knew her, she had trod
Across the rare celestial blue,
To make her dwelling-place with God,
Amidst the mornings and the dew.

A fair, sweet face, my father said,

A witchery, of woman worth.
A golden glory crowned her head:

Her heart was eager for my birth.

Her eyes were solemn, wonder-lit,
With dreamful love, a steady look

That gazed straight on and up, and fit
For faith and sunrise and the Book.

A woman far removed, at death,
Across wide seas, from native land;

And at life's eventide a breath

From mountain heights her spirit fanned.

Beside the sea her girlhood dwelt.

Where sea-sands spread and sea-cliffs clomb;
And on the cliffs the heather smelt,

And sea-wrecks fed the fires of home.

41



Her dimming eyes dwelt on the hills

Which climbed to snowy heights sublime.

A mountain peace her spirit fills,

The hours she drifts from shores of time.

She looked my father in the face

With look he dreamed on till he died.

And said she loved him, and that grace
Would set her with the glorified.

She looked at me, her early born.

With skies of love in her sweet eyes —

"I wait for him in the far morn.
The timeless morn of Paradise."

Her hands fell, wandering, on my face

Like a beatitude; and awed.
She gently prayed a moment's space —

And so stepped out to dwell with God.

Nor know I yet my mother's look.
Nor have I felt my mother's kiss;

But shall some daytime cross the Brook,
And press her mother lips in bliss.

4£



The Brook is death: beyond Hes Life,
Its holy meadows sown to stars.

There Mother dwells where nothing dies,
Nor aught the age-long glory mars.

She loveth still her little lad,
Nor is she aught in love remiss;

But will some happy day be glad
To give to him his morning kiss.



o



A Pact with Death

NE day I made a pact with Death,
Death made a pact with me.

He swore for aye to lend me breath;
I swore from him to flee.



And so we parted, Death and I,
To go our several ways;

But I came back without a sigh.
And Death showed no amaze.



43



I



The Sea- Wreck

T crouched upon the rocks
Like wounded Hon paralyzed.

Where wild sea swirls and shocks.
Mad ocean-riot realized.



With helpless claws it held

Its wounded, helpless, weary hold

Where rocking sea tides swelled
With seas' grim perils manifold.

Once had it swept the sea

Elate in rapture through the storm.
And ventured in wild glee

Where battling sea- waves sternly form.

But here, alas ! and now

It sprawls, a spent magnificence.
The sea sands on its prow,

And shamed and shorn of all defense.

Aye, wonder prone, but great!

It hath the ruthless ocean crossed
And boldly met its fate,

A glorious couchant wreck, sea-tossed.
44



A splendor of the scud

Of storm, a strength which once was strong,
A vagrant of the flood,

Though now a wreck, — for aye a song.



I



An Angel Said

SAW an angel standing strong

And tall as hills that climb the sky:

His words were as a triumph song

Which, chiming, said, "Thou shalt not