Combatants
He seemed to call me, and I shrank dismayed,
Deeming he threatened all I held most dear;
But when at last his summons I obeyed,
Perplexed and full of fear,
I found upon his face no angry frown,—
Only a visor down.
Indignant that his voice, so calm and sweet,
In my despite, unto my soul appealed,
I cried, "If thou hast courage, turn and meet
A foeman full revealed!"
And with determined zeal that made me strong,
Contended with him long.
But oh, the armor he so meekly bore
Was wrought for him in other worlds than ours!
In firm defense of what he battled for,
Were leagued eternal powers!
I fell; yet overwhelmed by my disgrace,
At last I saw his face.
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Psyche
Softly, with palpitating heart,
She came to where he lay concealed apart.
The lamp she held intensified the gloom,
And in the dusk wrought shadowy shapes of doom.
Her starry eyes
O'er-brimmed with troubled tears,
Her pulses throbbing wildly in her ears,
She stood beside him where he lay
Hushed in the deep
Of sweet unconscious sleep.
But as she stifled back her sighs
And tried to look upon that cherished form,
Remembrance shook her purpose warm,
And, chiding, seemed to say,—
"Why seek to solve, why, curious, thus destroy
The mystery of joy?
What doubt unblest, what faithless fear is this,
Which tempts to paths none may retrace,
Which moves thee—fond one!—to unveil the face
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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By the Conemaugh
Foreboding sudden of untoward change,
A tight'ning clasp on everything held dear,
A moan of waters wild and strange,
A whelming horror near;
And, midst the thund’rous din a voice of doom,—
"Make way for me, O Life, for Death make room!
"I come like the whirlwind rude,
'Gainst all thou hast cherished warring;
I come like the flaming flood
From a crater's mouth outpouring;
I come like the avalanche gliding free;
And the Power that sent thee forth, sends me!
"Where thou hast builded with strength secure
My hand shall spread disaster;
Where thou hast barr'd me, with forethought sure,
Shall ruin flow the faster;
I come to gather where thou hast sowed,—
But I claim of thee nothing thou hast not owed!
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Ma Belle
The world is full of charm, ma belle,
And blithe as you are young;
It echoes with a silver note
The lispings of your tongue;
It lays upon your fairy hand
A touch as light as down;
It smiles approval, and, ma belle,
You have not felt its frown.
The world is very rich, ma belle,
And all its gifts are yours.
It bows before you, little one,
And while the mood endures,
With roses, freshly garlanded,
Your pathway bright adorns;
But roses fade, ma belle, ma belle—
And there are left the thorns!
To snare your feet, the world, ma belle,
Has spread a shining net,
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Little Lass
As Douglas to his castle came,
Emotion nerved his shatter'd frame,
And soft he pondered,—"Presently
My little lass will welcome me!
"As longs the miser for his gold,
As fever longs, with thirst untold,
So yearns my heart her face to see,
Who yonder waits to welcome me!"
But as he turned his steed about,
A mournful peal of bells rung out;
Whereat he cried,—"Nay, merrily!
Ring forth my bairn to welcome me!"
He entered at the castle gate;
(None marked him come, for it grew late,)
He stood within his hall at last;
(None heeded him, for tears fell fast.)
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
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In a College Settlement
The sights and sounds of the wretched street
Oppressed me, and I said: "We cheat
Our hearts with hope. Man sunken lies
In vice, and naught that's fair or sweet
Finds further favor in his eyes.
"Vainly we strive, in sanguine mood,
To elevate a savage brood
Which, from the cradle, sordid, dull,
No longer has a wish for good,
Or craving for the beautiful."
I said; but chiding my despair,
My wiser friend just pointed where,
By some indifferent passer thrown
Upon a heap of ashes bare,
The loose leaves of a rose were sown.
And I, 'twixt tenderness and doubt,
Beheld, while pity grew devout,
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
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Friends to Virtue
"The gods whom we all belong to are the gods we belong to whether we will or no."
Into the theatre they came—
"Motley 's the only wear!"
Children of poverty, of shame,
Of folly, of despair.
Elbowing rudely, Jill and Jack,
A nearer view to win,
Youths, men, and women, white and black,
Pell-mell, they jostled in.
A wretched place of poor resort,
Far from the world polite,
Few pennies bought the meagre sport
So fruitful of delight,
And gazing there, each brutish face,
The godlike stamp resigned,
A tablet seemed whereon disgrace
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
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Art
She stood a vision vestureless and fair,
Glowing the canvas with her orient grace:
A goddess grave she stood, with such a face
As in Elysium the immortals wear.
But some, unworthy, as they pondered there,
Cold to the marvel of her look divine—
Saw but a form undraped, in Beauty's shrine.
Then she, it seemed, rebuked them: "Old and
young
Have worshiped at the temple where I breathe,
And deathless laurels, for my sake, enwreathe
The brows of him from whose pure thought I
sprung:
Lips consecrate as yours his praise have sung,—
Who neither sued for praise nor courted ease,
But reverently wrought, as from his knees.
"No raiment can the base or mean reclaim,
And that which sacred is must sacred be,
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Tomb in Tuscany
In Montepulciano fair,—
Long famous for that vintage rare,
Prized by the giver of the vine
Above all wine—
There dwelt a man whose years had taught him
To seek, beyond what wealth had brought him,
Something to give his transient name
A lasting fame.
"For lordly palaces," he said,
"Shall crumble; ay, and bastions dread,
And temples grave and gardens gay
Become as they;
Each vaunted image of my power
Shall perish like a wayside flower,
And like the hawk my hand hath fed
Lie waste and dead.
"Wherefore, ere yet my days be spent,
I will uprear a monument
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Perdita
She dances,
And I seem to be
In primrose vales of Sicily,
Beside the streams once looked upon
By Thyrsis and by Corydon:
The sunlight laughs as she advances,
Shyly the zephyrs kiss her hair,
And she seems to me as the wood-fawn, free,
And as the wild rose, fair.
Dance, Perdita! and shepherds, blow!
Your reeds restrain no longer!
Till weald and welkin gleeful ring,
Blow, shepherds, blow! and, lasses, sing,
Yet sweeter strains and stronger!
Let far Helorus softer flow
'Twixt rushy banks, that he may hear;
Let Pan, great Pan himself, draw near!
Stately
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poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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