The Poems of Henry Van Dyke Part 27

TO MARK TWAIN

I

AT A BIRTHDAY FEAST

With memories old and wishes new We crown our cups again, And here's to you, and here's to you With love that ne'er shall wane!

And may you keep, at sixty-seven, The joy of earth, the hope of heaven, And fame well-earned, and friends.h.i.+p true, And peace that comforts every pain, And faith that fights the battle through, And all your heart's unbounded wealth, And all your wit, and all your health,-- Yes, here's a hearty health to you, And here's to you, and here's to you, Long life to you, Mark Twain.

November 30, 1902.

II

AT THE MEMORIAL MEETING

We knew you well, dear Yorick of the West, The very soul of large and friendly jest!

You loved and mocked the broad grotesque of things In this new world where all the folk are kings.

Your breezy humour cleared the air, with sport Of shams that haunt the democratic court; For even where the sovereign people rule, A human monarch needs a royal fool.

Your native drawl lent flavour to your wit; Your arrows lingered but they always. .h.i.t; Homeric mirth around the circle ran, But left no wound upon the heart of man.

We knew you kind in trouble, brave in pain; We saw your honour kept without a stain; We read this lesson of our Yorick's years,-- True wisdom comes with laughter and with tears.

November 30, 1910.

STARS AND THE SOUL

(TO CHARLES A. YOUNG, ASTRONOMER)

"Two things," the wise man said, "fill me with awe: The starry heavens and the moral law."

Nay, add another wonder to thy roll,-- The living marvel of the human soul!

Born in the dust and cradled in the dark, It feels the fire of an immortal spark, And learns to read, with patient, searching eyes, The splendid secret of the unconscious skies.

For G.o.d thought Light before He spoke the word; The darkness understood not, though it heard: But man looks up to where the planets swim, And thinks G.o.d's thoughts of glory after Him.

What knows the star that guides the sailor's way, Or lights the lover's bower with liquid ray, Of toil and pa.s.sion, danger and distress, Brave hope, true love, and utter faithfulness?

But human hearts that suffer good and ill, And hold to virtue with a loyal will, Adorn the law that rules our mortal strife With star-surpa.s.sing victories of life.

So take our thanks, dear reader of the skies, Devout astronomer, most humbly wise, For lessons brighter than the stars can give, And inward light that helps us all to live.

TO JULIA MARLOWE

(READING KEATS' ODE ON A GRECIAN URN)

Long had I loved this "Attic shape," the brede Of marble maidens round this urn divine: But when your golden voice began to read, The empty urn was filled with Chian wine.

TO JOSEPH JEFFERSON

_May 4th_, 1898.--_To-day, fis.h.i.+ng down the Swift.w.a.ter, I found Joseph Jefferson on a big rock in the middle of the brook, casting the fly for trout. He said he had fished this very stream three-and-forty years ago; and near by, in the Paradise Valley, he wrote his famous play._--Leaf from my Diary.

We met on Nature's stage, And May had set the scene, With bishop-caps standing in delicate ranks, And violets blossoming over the banks, While the brook ran full between.

The waters rang your call, With frolicsome waves a-twinkle,-- They knew you as boy, and they knew you as man, And every wave, as it merrily ran, Cried, "Enter Rip van Winkle!"

THE MOCKING-BIRD

In mirth he mocks the other birds at noon, Catching the lilt of every easy tune; But when the day departs he sings of love,-- His own wild song beneath the listening moon.

THE EMPTY QUATRAIN

A flawless cup: how delicate and fine The flowing curve of every jewelled line!

Look, turn it up or down, 'tis perfect still,-- But holds no drop of life's heart-warming wine.

PAN LEARNS MUSIC

FOR A SCULPTURE BY SARA GREENE

Limber-limbed, lazy G.o.d, stretched on the rock, Where is sweet Echo, and where is your flock?

What are you making here? "Listen," said Pan,-- "Out of a river-reed music for man!"

THE SHEPHERD OF NYMPHS