{"1": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3524", "width": "2250", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "o\\no\\n4 p.\\nS Or\\nj-/-.\\n^o", "height": "3339", "width": "1983", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "-\u00c2\u00bb^^\u00c2\u00abr,*\\no N\\ntt\\n^%R l^K-\u00c2\u00b0 1\\nr ^^m^:^\\n^f^^^n r. J^^^liP^t, t, \u00e2\u0096\u00a0ft\\nqV ^^na\\nA", "height": "3391", "width": "2108", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3339", "width": "1983", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3401", "width": "2006", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3339", "width": "1983", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "7-", "height": "3401", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "^p t|)e i)ame Sltrt[)0r\u00c2\u00bb\\nAT THE GATES OF SONG. lUustrated. SmaU 8vo, $1.50.\\nTHE SLOPES OF HELICON. lUustrated. i6mo, $1.25.\\nECHOES OF GREEK IDYLS. i2mo, $1.25.", "height": "3339", "width": "1983", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nAND\\nLATER SONNETS\\nBY\\nLLOYD MIFFLIN\\nBOSTON AND NEW YORK\\nHOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY\\n(3rt)e ^itcti^ibc ^xt0, CambtitJge\\n1900", "height": "3401", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "OL^UV\\niLibrtxiy of Curu4r\u00c2\u00ab\u00c2\u00ab\u00c2\u00ab\\nOCT 15 1900\\nSfcDKD COPY.\\nOfiOtH DIVISION,\\nOCT 19 li oQ\\nCOPYRIGHT, tgoo, BY LLOYD MIFFLIN\\nALL RIGHTS RESERVED", "height": "3339", "width": "1983", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "NOTE\\nThe period referred to in these Pastorals is supposed\\nto be in the Author s youth. The time occupied is one\\nyear beginning with early April, running through the\\nseasons, and ending with the following Spring. The\\nregion described is in southern Pennsylvania bordering\\nupon the Susquehanna.\\nL. M.\\nNorwood, July, 1900", "height": "3401", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood^\\nWhen fond recollection presents them to view I\\nThe orchard^ the meadow^ the deep-tangled wild wood,\\nAnd every loved spot which my infa?icy knew.\\nSamuel Woodworth.", "height": "3339", "width": "1983", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "NOW LIKE A RED LEAF\\nIn youth how slowly passed the golden day I\\nAs if upon the stillness of some brook\\nYou threw a rose-leaf and the rose-leaf took\\nIts own sweet time to loiter to the bay.\\nThe lark sang always life was endless play\\nWe lived on nectar from a poefs book\\nDrifting along by many a sunny nook^\\nLittle we cared it would be ever May\\nNow^ like a red leaf on the autumnal stream\\nThat cannot steer nor stop that cannot sink\\nSwiftly I glide. As in some fateful dream\\nThere is no time to pause no time to think\\nThe cataract roars I see the white foam gleam\\nWithin the gorge draws me to the brink\\nFrom At the Gates of Song", "height": "3401", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3339", "width": "1983", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS\\nTHE FIELDS OF DAWN page\\nAmong the maple-buds we heard the tones 3\\nThe budding woods had many a note to thrill 4\\nWe strolled on wooded slopes above the town 5\\nAnd when the April days of sunny rain 6\\nThe rhythmic music of our horses feet 7\\nWe stooped a moment mid the golden hosts 8\\nWithin the orchard in the month of May 9\\nHappy the idle days that then were mine 10\\nThe country house stood on a chestnut knoll 11\\nBeloved Fields from out your pure domains 12\\nThe leafy fence-rows made a green retreat .13\\nWe loitered on the headland s rocky knoll 14\\nOn further slopes we saw the bright scythes gleam 15\\nUpon the porch vine-shadows touched our feet 16\\nHow WELL WE loved, IN SUMMER SOLITUDE I7\\nPleasant our walks when Summer was the tide i8\\nRich shone those acres in the glowing heat 19\\nThe very weeds were wilted, leaf and blade 20\\nOh, the wide River and her water-ways 21\\nWe heard the River singing From the lake 22\\nThe long day over, mid the islets fair 23\\nThat shifting island of the ^gean seas 24\\nT was our delight when Autumn days were here 25", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "viii CONTENTS\\nWithin the woods September sunlight lay 26\\nAgain the cider-press, age-worn and browned 27\\nOh, who, with even long-accustomed eyes 28\\nGreat fleets of riven clouds intensely white 29\\nThere is a legend the Algonquins tell 30\\nThe nearest woodlands wore a misty veil 31\\nFrom the old mill-wheel came no splash nor foam 32\\nAnd though November on the fading hill 33\\nlow tangles of long grasses, sere and pale 34\\nThe wind was rising to a wintry gale 35\\nThe snow was thawing in the country lane 36\\nWe wandered by the River foot-hills sere 37\\nThe damp south-wind came slowly from the bay 38\\nVanished, alas all heralds of the Spring 39\\nBlustering the day, but as the rain was done 40\\nIn the wild sky the lakes of shifting blue 41\\nBefore the birds returned twas passing sweet 42\\nT WAS LATE IN MARCH, AND ALL THE AIR WAS CHILL 43\\nas chilling airs grew balmy once again 44\\nWe saw the clouds above the hill-top scud 45\\nThrough upland trees we heard the loud winds blow 46\\nWhen o er the mead the jonquil-trumpet blows 47\\nLATER SONNETS\\nThe Singer 5^\\nTo AN Old Anchor 52\\nInadequacy S3\\nThe Annunciation 54\\nLongings 55\\nTo AN Aged Poet 56\\nThe Onset 57", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS ix\\nBereft 58\\nIn Memoriam 59\\nThe Cataract 60\\nLongfellow 61\\nThe Monarch 62\\nBlame not the poet 63\\nThe Fan 64\\nBellona 65\\nThe Travellers 66\\nThe Voyagers 67\\nTo Richard Henry Stoddard 68\\nThe Battle-field 69\\nAn East Rain on the Island of Cyprus 70\\nThe Black Portals 71\\nA Colored Servant Unable to Read 72\\nIn Bondage 73\\nTo a Young Maid 74\\nThe Bard 75\\nTo a General of the Revolution 76\\nThe Home-land 77\\nA Landscape by Rembrandt 78\\nFettered 79\\nThe Beast 80\\nA Voice from the Border-land 81\\nThe Commonplace 82\\nThe Queen of the Tides S^\\nTo an old Laborer 84\\nOn a Painting 85\\nHe builds the City of Enoch 86\\nThe Spirit of Poesy 87", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS\\nThe Fields of Quiet 88\\nNicaragua .89\\nThe Dying Day 90\\nLooking Seaward 91\\nIn the Valley of Dreams 92\\nSamson 93\\nIn Leaf-drifted Aisles 94\\nIsolation 95\\nIn the Metropolis 96\\nOn presenting a Sonnet 97\\nA Flight Downward 98\\nIn Memory of Alfred, Lord Tennyson 99\\nEstranged 100\\nArrival of the Welcome 101\\nA Winter Flight. I 102\\nA Winter Flight. II 103\\nInvocation. I 104\\nInvocation. II 105", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nAmong the maple-buds we heard the tones\\nOf April s earliest bees, although the days\\nSeemed ruled by Mars. The veil of gathering haze\\nSpread round the silent hills in bluest zones.\\nDeep in the pines the breezes stirred the cones,\\nAs on we strolled within the wooded ways.\\nThere where the brook, transilient, softly plays\\nWith muffled plectrum on her harp of stones\\nOnward we pushed amid the yielding green\\nAnd light rebounding of the cedar boughs,\\nUntil we heard the forest lanes along.\\nAbove the lingering drift of latest snows\\nThe Thrush outpour, from coverts still unseen,\\nHis rare ebulliency of liquid song", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nII\\nThe budding woods had many a note to thrill\\nWe heard the River lapping on the shore,\\nAnd from anear the pulsing of an oar\\nCame round the jutting shoulder of the hill\\nDeep in the rocky gorge the mountain rill,\\nTumbling in torrents of melodious roar\\nAmong primeval boulders, o er and o er,\\nMade music that from far re-echoed still.\\nThe forest flowers, from the leafy ground,\\nWere peering at us with demurest eyes\\nMid ferns uncurling in the balmy air\\nAnd I remember on that day you found,\\nApoise above the blue anemones there,\\nA fluttering flock of golden butterflies.", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nIII\\nWe strolled on wooded slopes above the town,\\nWhile April, coming from a sunnier land,\\nStrewed violets near us with her rosy hand,\\nAnd scattered coyly from her azure gown\\nArbutus bells beneath the leaves of brown.\\nWe saw her timid by the dogwood stand,\\nWhen, at the waving of her mystic wand.\\nIt sprang to blossom in a snowy crown.\\nShe turned to walk within the greenwood gloom\\nWhere flows the runnel from the rocky spring\\nSilent we watched her as she stepped along\\nAnd when she passed, the thicket burst abloom,\\nWhile to and fro flashed many a brilliant wing,\\nAnd every brier trembled with a song", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nIV\\nAnd when the April days of sunny rain\\nHad raised the River and each rivulet,\\nWhen all the sandy marge was soft and wet\\nWhere high the drifted ice of late had lain,\\nWe saw the fishers as they rowed amain,\\nSpreading in rapid pools their monstrous net\\nAnd rare the sight, when last the snare was set,\\nThe dotted buoys of the circling seine.\\nWe watched the boatmen pulling in their prize\\nThe silvered fish the Susquehanna yields\\nWe left the sheltered tree-trunk on the shore.\\nAnd then, as balmier grew the balmy skies,\\nUnchained our boat beneath the sycamore,\\nAnd with the current floated to new fields.", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nThe rhythmic music of our horses feet\\nWoke the long bridge and echoed o er the plains\\nWithin the forest oft their flowing manes\\nWere brushed by branches where the wildings meet\\nThe grape-vine s blossom in the air was sweet,\\nAs on our saddlers necks we dropped the reins,\\nAnd let them pick their way through rocky lanes\\nAlong the margin of the dense retreat.\\nWe reached the hill-top, and the late glow there\\nLingered, reluctant still to leave yonr cheek.\\nThen faded slowly from the river s breast\\nWhile on the summit, gazing from the peak,\\nWe watched Hyperion drive his flaming pair\\nDown the gold highways of the crimsoned West.", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nVI\\nWe stooped a moment mid the golden hosts\\nOf buttercups to gather one bouquet\\nThen wandered where the dandelions ghosts\\nGloomed all the greensward with their globes of gray.\\nThe bursting white-oak leaf, that looks in May\\nA silver bloom, frosted the shooting tips\\nAnd all the bellefleur buds were out that day\\nAs ruby-rosy as your own dear lips\\nAlong the windings of the avenue\\nThe guelder-rose displayed her spheres of light,\\nAnd eaves were purpled with wistaria flowers\\nWhile the faint aura, for the sake of you.\\nToying among the clustered blossoms bright,\\nWith rarest fragrance filled the balmy hours.", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nVII\\nWithin the orchard in the month of May,\\nWhere gently waved the fitful southern breeze,\\nWe watched the blossoms snowing from the trees,\\nWhile vagrant butterflies in white array.\\nFrom out the apple shadows where we lay,\\nFluttered around and seemed a part of these\\nAnd sweetest violets clustered near our knees\\nBlue as the plumage of the saucy jay.\\nAbove us in the rosy-centred blooms\\nThe earliest robin perched and blithely sang,\\nNor knew his nest was builded all too low\\nAnd o er the lawn the birds on eager plumes.\\nSelecting sites, were hurrying to and fro.\\nWhile all the groves with wildest carols rang.", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nVIII\\nHappy the idle days that then were mine\\nSpent on the shady slopes about the house\\nThe squirrels, joining in a mad carouse,\\nRomped o er the red-oak through the spreading pine.\\nThe wrens were warbling in the eglantine.\\nAnd thrushes carolled mid the maple boughs\\nWhile flecks of sunshine, falling round your brows,\\nLighted your face to something half divine.\\nBetween the branches pink with apple-blooms\\nHazy and faint we marked the distant spires.\\nAs toward the town we turned with careless look\\nThe grosbeak perched anear with roseate plumes,\\nAnd sweeter than the Heliconian lyres\\nSang by our side the garden s pebbly brook.\\nlO", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nIX\\nThe country house stood on a chestnut knoll\\nAbove the River in the purple hills\\nThrough the wild garden tumbled silver rills,\\nWhile many an oak gloomed round with gnarled bole.\\nOn the elm s tip fluted the oriole\\nFrom tangled runnels girt with daffodils\\nRare echoes reached us of wood-robin trills,\\nAs on the orchard slopes we took our stroll.\\nBeneath the trees in sculptured Grecian garb\\nSweet Hebe poured the stream of health eterne,\\nAnd startled Syrinx listened for the Faun\\nDiana, striding through the dews of dawn.\\nReached to her quiver for the fatal barb.\\nWhile gleaming Naiads glimmered from the fern.\\nII", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nBeloved Fields from out your pure domains\\nFloats music softer than from viol strings\\nBetter the warbling of your feathered things\\nThan all the rolling organ s deep refrains\\nWhat prima donna trills such liquid strains\\nAs yon brown meadow-lark, that, floating, sings\\nAbove her nest on slow-descending wings.\\nWith plaintive sweetness that the soul enchains\\nNot hers alone, but myriad notes there are\\nToo sweet for telling, where all sounds are sweet\\nThe delicate footfalls of the showery rains\\nThe breezes rustling o er the sea-green wheat\\nThe murmurous voices, faintly heard and far,\\nOf children gathering cherries in the lanes.\\n12", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXI\\nThe leafy fence-rows made a green retreat,\\nWhere cattle stood within the shade to doze\\nThe elder there upreared her bloom of snows,\\nAnd many a mavis made the dingle sweet.\\nFar o er the corn fields, in the dazzling heat,\\nThe silent women labored in the rows\\nAnd where the hedge its sheltering shadow throws,\\nWe heard at intervals the lambkins bleat.\\nWe watched the harrows make their furrow wide\\nThe thievish grackles follow, round by round.\\nThe running robins halting, as they eyed\\nWith crafty caution all the mellow ground\\nWhile, three abreast, in seeming conscious pride.\\nThe stately horses passed without a sound.\\n13", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXII\\nWe loitered on the headland s rocky knoll\\nAbove the shining River, silver-bright\\nAnd far below we saw the rapids roll\\nTheir rushing waters into boiling white.\\nThe sun, down-gleaming in his morning might.\\nShowed the lone fisher with his slender pole\\nWhere the dazed vision lost at last control\\nPush his canoe across the blinding light.\\nWe watched the sea-hawk mounting with his prey.\\nThe brigand eagle meet him in the air.\\nAnd, swooping under, catch the falling fish\\nT was sweet with you to linger idly there,\\nOr, rising, piloted by your dear wish.\\nTo climb adown the crag-path s perilous way.\\n14", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXIII\\nOn further slopes we saw the bright scythes gleam,\\nBut in the meadow where we stood that day\\nThe four-horse wagons took the gathered hay\\nFrom fragrant windrows by the willowy stream.\\nFar off we heard, as in a waking dream,\\nFaint voices lifted where the labor lay\\nBy distant barns, and now and then the neigh\\nOf colts at pasture calling to the team.\\nBut when we saw the sudden-coming rain.\\nWe climbed atop the homeward-going load\\nAnd marked in evening skies the arched bow,\\nAs on the hay we laughed and jolting rode\\nAdown the windings of the orchard lane\\nBrushed by the cherry branches bending low.\\n15", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXIV\\nUpon the porch vine-shadows touched our feet\\nAcross the rich fields of the level plain\\nA breeze, precursor of the summer rain,\\nChased the gold billows o er the sea of wheat.\\nThe dazzling air, a-tremble with the heat.\\nGrew calm and blue in all the dells again\\nAnd to the umbrage of the trees the swain\\nDrove the white flock within the cool retreat.\\nThe fox-grape clambering o er the oaken limb.\\nSwayed to and fro in many a green festoon,\\nAnd on the rolling lawn in sun-flecked urns\\nThe fitful zephyr swayed each plume of ferns.\\nWhile rows of hollyhocks, like maidens slim.\\nBowed to each other in the sun of June.\\ni6", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXV\\nHow well we loved, in Summer solitude\\nTo stroll on lonely ridges far away,\\nWhere beeches, with their boles of Quaker gray.\\nMurmured at times a sylvan interlude\\nWe heard each songster warble near her brood,\\nAnd from the lowland where the mowers lay\\nCame now and then faint fragrance from the hay,\\nThat touched the heart to reminiscent mood.\\nWe peered down wooded steeps, and saw the sun\\nShining in front, tip all the grape-vines wild.\\nAnd edge with light the boulders lichened groups\\nWhile, deep within the gorge, the tinkling run\\nCoiled through the hollows with its silvered loops\\nDown to the waiting River, thousand-isled.\\n17", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXVI\\nPleasant our walks when Summer was the tide\\nBy many a fertile field our footsteps fell\\nIn sunny nooks within the shadowy dell\\nWhere gurgling brooklets o er the gravel slide\\nWe watched the minnows, silver-shimmering, glide\\nThen farm-ward turning at the noonday bell,\\nSaw the great horses drinking at the well,\\nAnd rosy children clambering for a ride.\\nWe passed along the meadows, redolent\\nOf heaped-up hay that in the sunshine dries,\\nI following still the music of your feet\\nAs down the path between the grain we went.\\nWhile here and there, with tint of April s eyes,\\nThe cockle blossomed in the golden wheat.\\ni8", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXVII\\nRich shone those acres in the glowing heat\\nA gUttering host with fringed spears of gold\\nAll slowly swaying as the breezes rolled\\nAbove the poppies in the ripened wheat.\\nAnon we heard the lamb s persistent bleat\\nFrom flocks unseen in meadows o er the wold\\nAnd through the fence, the colts, grown over-bold,\\nPushed their cool noses, glad our hands to greet.\\nThe cows stood in the clover to their knees,\\nFor now the evening milking all was done.\\nAnd o er the vale for many and many a mile\\nThe barns were rosied by the sinking sun\\nThen at the hedge we stopped, and by the stile\\nDreamed while the moon rose through the murmuring\\ntrees.\\n19", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXVIII\\nThe very weeds were wilted, leaf and blade\\nThe Durhams stood and panted in the stream\\nDeep in the pool we saw them slowly wade,\\nMottled with gold of many a sunny gleam.\\nThe tired plowman, in the heat extreme,\\nStopped by the willows where no leaflet swayed.\\nAnd as he brought the water to his team\\nThey stretched their sweating necks and softly neighed.\\nBeyond the dale, above the sultry steeps,\\nIn fields of bluer and intenser light,\\nPoised the lone buzzard, rising in repose.\\nWhere soaring upward through the zenith deeps,\\nIn toppling mounds of unimagined white.\\nThe rolling cloud unfolded as a rose\\n20", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXIX\\nOh, the wide River and her water-ways\\nWhose currents draw us through their rocky gates,\\nWinding between a thousand grassy aits\\nTo glorious greeneries in unlooked-for bays\\nThe clustered islands swim in amber haze\\nAnd the rich sun, reluctant, slow awaits\\nHis destined setting, while he still creates\\nUpon the golden tide one dazzling blaze.\\nSilence around, save where the waters blue,\\nAmong the sedgy inlets in a dream.\\nGurgle unceasingly their liquid note\\nThen, leaning listless in our long canoe,\\n^Vith paddle trailing idly in the stream,\\nWe, mirrored on the rippling surface, float.\\n21", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXX\\nWe heard the River singing From the lake\\nOf Canandaigua, making many a twist\\nTo catch the Unadilla, in the mist\\nOf morn I flow. Chenango then I take,\\nAnd through the Pennsylvania border break\\nTo clasp the Juniata s amethyst\\nPast Tuscarora rambling as I list\\nBeyond Towanda, where a turn I make\\nTo lure the Wyalusing then convey\\nThe slow Swatara, Conowingo s creek,\\nSalunga, Octorara, and Peque^:\\nI drain a thousand streams, yet still I seek\\nTo lose myself within the Chesapeake\\nIn reedy inlets of the Indian bay.\\n22", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXI\\nThe long day over, mid the islets fair,\\nHomeward we headed then our slender boat\\nAcross the crimson waters, slow to float\\nBy many a lilied inlet lying there.\\nThe distant rapids murmured through the air,\\nAnd as our oars the placid river smote,\\nThe scarlet circles, widening remote,\\nCarried away the very wraith of care.\\nThe sunset darkened from the hill the moon\\nArose full-faced and breezes rustling through\\nThe reedy harps waked all their silent strings\\nThen o er the surface, smooth as some lagoon.\\nWe drifted in the gloaming dim and blue.\\nAs Evening spread abroad her shadowy wings.\\n23", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXII\\nThat shifting island of the JEge3,n seas,\\nHome of Apollo and the Ionian Shrine\\nThe golden Delos of the days divine\\nMight wander still among the Cyclades,\\nBut ours was fixed our paradise whose trees\\nBent with the masses of the clambering vine\\nSweeter than Leuce by the Euxine brine\\nBetween Danubius and Borysthenes\\nAnd when upon the ripple-ridged sand\\nWe beached our boat near where the rushes sing\\nA reedy music round the birchen tree,\\nWe, like to happy children, hand in hand\\nStrolled through the shadows to the island spring,\\nCold as Telphusa s fount of Arcady.\\n24", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXIII\\nT WAS our delight when Autumn days were here,\\nTo stand in tawny ferns and see the sun\\nBreak through the drifting clouds of dove-like dun\\nAnd, for a moment shining summer-clear.\\nTurn to resplendent gold the hickory sere.\\nThen where the quinquefolia had o errun\\nThe oak s extremest branches, and begun\\nTo fall in pendants, crimson tier on tier,\\nWe watched the brilliant streamers as they swayed\\nTouched with the glorious light, and all aglow,\\nLike scarlet gonfalons in some cavalcade\\nOf mediaeval tourney long ago,\\nWhere bugles blared, and plumed palfreys neighed,\\nAnd lances fell on armor, blow on blow\\n25", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXIV\\nWithin the woods September sunlight lay\\nDappling the golden soil there was no sound\\nSave of the acorn dropping to the ground,\\nOr, now and then, the bugle of the jay.\\nAt times a squirrel from the bending spray\\nLeapt to the chestnut limb with venturous bound\\nOr on some wooded crest, the lonely hound\\nWoke the reverberations far away.\\nThe corn was ranked in many a tasseled tent,\\nAnd bluest haze slept on the peaceful hills\\nWhere once the Sagamores had fought and slain.\\nAnear, the plodding farmer slowly bent\\nAcross the umber stretches, while the drills\\nScattered the blessings of the future grain.\\n26", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXV\\nAgain the cider-press, age-worn and browned,\\nI see along the lane-side by the trees\\nThe waiting load of pippins yet to squeeze\\nNear piles of pomace lying on the ground\\nThe horse that dragged the creaking lever round\\nThe oozing juice and hear, above all these,\\nThe chorus of the honey-hunting bees,\\nThat sweet monotony of drowsy sound\\nAgainst the bellefleur boughs the ladder lay,\\nAnd you were standing on the lower rung.\\nWhen, in the shade, a row of casks we saw\\nThen drawing forth the barrel s foamy bung\\nLaughing together on that happy day\\nWe drew the nectar through an oaten straw.", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXVI\\nOh, who, with even long-accustomed eyes.\\nFrom these steep headlands where the River roars,\\nCan view the region with its fertile shores,\\nNor feel that rarest beauty round him lies\\nThrough all the vale Demeter s temples rise\\nThe snow-white barns that hold her golden stores,\\nWhere flails make murmur on the threshing floors\\nLike distant thunder in the Summer skies.\\nHere Plenty from her overflowing horn\\nPours endless blessing ruddy-breasted Toil\\nReaps the wide valley of its rich increase,\\nThe rolling slopes of pasture and of corn\\nHere new-sown grain springs from the teeming soil,\\nAnd on the fair hills broods the Dove of Peace.\\n28", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXVII\\nGreat fleets of riven clouds intensely white,\\nSailing wind-harried, thwart the lowering sky\\nOn the wild River, where the islands lie.\\nLong levels of insufferable light\\nCloud-shadows, moving in portentous flight,\\nDimming the crimson of the steeps near by,\\nAnd glooming golden ridges, crested high.\\nAs the dread pinions of Apollyon might\\nWeird slopes of tawny grasses all astir\\nAs if some monster crept along the hill\\nCovered with hide of panther-colored fur\\nWhile in the blustering air, grown bleak and chill\\nThe only wraith of Summer lingering still\\nFloats the blown milkweed s ermined gossamer.\\n29", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXVIII\\nThere is a legend the Algonquins tell\\nOf power and splendor of the Great White One\\nThe God of Light he is, and of the Sun,\\nAnd in their strange lore hath no parallel.\\nHe, in the Summer, from his citadel.\\nComes to the gates of his dominion.\\nAnd throws them open when the day s begun.\\nAnd shuts them in the evening. But a spell\\nSaps his puissance when the Autumn haze\\nSpreads its dim-shimmering silver on the rills\\nThen to the mountain-tops he slowly wends\\nAnd, idly drowsing on the dreamy hills,\\nPuffs at his pipe, and as the smoke descends,\\nBehold our mellow Indian Summer days\\n30", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXIX\\nThe nearest woodlands wore a misty veil\\nFrom phantom trees we saw the last leaf float\\nThe hills though near us seemed to lie remote,\\nWrapped in a balmy vapor, golden-pale.\\nFrom somewhere hidden in the dreamy dale\\nLatona s sorrow yet within her note\\nReft of her comrades, o er the stubbled oat\\nWe heard the calling of the lonely quail.\\nIn the bare corn field stalked the silent crow\\nToo faint the breeze to make the grasses sigh,\\nAnd not one carol came from out the sky\\nBut o er the golden gravelly levels low.\\nThe brook, loquacious, still went lilting by\\nAs liquidly as Lara, long ago.\\n31", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXX\\nFrom the old mill-wheel came no splash nor foam,\\nFor in the race the Autumnal stream was low\\nThe restless pigeons, flying to and fro,\\nCircled above, but soon came sailing home\\nThe sparrows, settling on the stack s gold dome.\\nGarrulous chattered of the coming snow\\nFor when the storms of Winter rudely blow\\nThey can no longer from the gables roam.\\nWithin the barn the booming of the flail\\nAnd rattling crackle of the beaten straw\\nMade pleasant music to the listening ear\\nAcross the unrippled surface of the mere\\nWe heard the piping of the scattered quail,\\nAnd from the wood, a crow s foreboding caw.\\n32", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXXI\\nAnd though November on the fading hill\\nTrod, in her sombre robes, with muffled feet,\\nYet to our ears came music, silver-sweet.\\nFrom tinkling lyres in the hidden rill.\\nAs days were coming with their bitter chill.\\nWe dearer prized the pale sun s feeble heat\\nAs flowers were gone, we gladlier felt to greet\\nThe green which edged the mossed wheel by the mill.\\nThe buttonwoods that by the old race grew.\\nWere lifting silently their marble arms\\nIn the deep arches of immurmurous noon.\\nOur only birds were pigeons from the farms\\nWhile in the rain-filled ruts the pools of blue\\nHeld the frayed circle of the gray-faced moon.\\n33", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXXII\\nLow tangles of long grasses, sere and pale\\nThe flowerless stalks of most pathetic weeds\\nHolding their heads up with a few scant seeds\\nTheir hope of next year s life the soughing wail\\nOf scentless winds that scour the bitter vale\\nAnd find no fragrance now from all the meads\\nThe sorrow of the time that far exceeds\\nThe deepest pathos of the saddest tale\\nWe met these sombre changes with a sigh,\\nFeeling the breath of Winter drawing near.\\nAnd wished at heart the days of Spring were here,\\nFor now we saw but boundless blanks of gray\\nWhere once appeared the glowing sapphire sky\\nWith her unfathomable deeps of May.\\n34", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0052.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXXIII\\nThe wind was rising to a wintry gale\\nWe left the valley, lying white below,\\nAnd from the untrod ridges deep with snow\\nTurned and looked down upon the pallid vale.\\nThe spirits of the North began to wail\\nAround the cliff, as toiling upward slow,\\nWe reached the crest and saw the sunset-glow\\nFlare on the crags around us, crimson-pale.\\nThen all the twilight phantoms of the sky\\nChanged into ever-shifting dragon-form,\\nAnd close above the mountain, crouching, lay\\nWeird voices in the pines began to cry\\nFrom out the tortured tops of gloomy gray,\\nAs through the gathering darkness rose the storm.\\n35", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0053.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXXIV\\nThe snow was thawing in the country lane,\\nAnd from the wooded gullies flowing down\\nThe tiny streams ran tinkling to the town,\\nFilling the brooklet as in time of rain.\\nFar off we saw the heavy-loaded wain,\\nThat, creaking, crept along the lone hill s crown\\nIn rocky knolls, crested with thickets brown,\\nWe listened for a bird but all in vain.\\nYet Pan still plays upon a thousand lyres\\nIf we but hear, so long as in our souls\\nThe light-winged goddess. Fancy, still survives\\nAnd leaning by the telegraph s tall poles,\\nThe Wind s sweet finger strumming on the wires.\\nWe heard the bees hum in Hymettus hives\\n36", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0054.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXXV\\nWe wandered by the River foot-hills sere\\nWhen frost had turned the grass to faded gray\\nFeeling the influence of the gloomy day\\nWe walked in silence through the stretches drear.\\nThere was no hint of Spring-time far or near\\nThe drifts of snow that in the woodland lay\\nSeemed Summer s gravestones, as we took our way\\nLike mourners at the funeral of the year.\\nThen suddenly some bird began to pour\\nHis buoyant spirit on the silent air,\\nWhen, at that sound, the sorrow of the time\\nTook flight with all the legions of despair.\\nWhile in our hearts began the Spring to chime,\\nAnd we were glad, for Winter seemed no more.\\n37", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0055.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXXVI\\nThe damp south-wind came slowly from the bay,\\nAnd with the drizzle brought the sea-birds, too,\\nLone gulls far flying from their ocean blue,\\nAnd seeming lost in these confines of gray.\\nThe River hills, so purple yesterday,\\nNow wrapped in mist, were blotted from our view\\nThe smoke hung flattened o er the factory flue,\\nAnd veiled the steeples in a murky spray.\\nTurning we sought afar the ivied gate\\nThat led us to the house whose ancient eaves\\nHummed with the sparrow in the leafless vines\\nIndoors we sat and turned the poets leaves,\\nFor if outside the Spring was drear and late,\\nEternal Summer lived within their lines.\\n38", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0056.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXXVII\\nVanished, alas all heralds of the Spring\\nThe rath song-sparrow, yesternoon that shook\\nThe elder with his lay, these dells forsook,\\nLeaving no echo of his voice or wing.\\nAnd now in warmer glens is carolling.\\nAbove the muffled bubble of the brook\\nWe hear a bird-like sound, but when we look,\\n*T is but the withered beech-leaves twittering.\\nSilence is in the dale a waiting hush\\nAs if the very hill-side listens too\\nThat it may hear the birds their song renew\\nWhile in the thicket s briery underbrush.\\nWhere last year sang the unrivalled hermit-thrush,\\nThe Raspberry bends her bows of bloomy blue.\\n39", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0057.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXXVIII\\nBlustering the day, but as the rain was done,\\nWe sought the slopes whereon the kalmia grew\\nFar on the River loved of me and you\\nThe white caps glistened in the streaks of sun.\\nThere was a roaring in the clouds of dun\\nThat, torn in shreds, across the heavens blew,\\nAs o er the wooded ridges wildly flew\\nThe eagle-flighted North- Wind, Aquilon.\\nBut down below, within the level vale.\\nWhere the high fell the lower valley shields.\\nThe plowman went his still recurrent round\\nCareless of winds he plodded in the dale\\nHis shining share up-turned the stubbled ground\\nAgainst the seeding-time of oaten fields.\\n40", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0058.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXXXIX\\nIn the wild sky the lakes of shifting blue\\nWere, by wind-harried clouds, revealed or blurred\\nAlong the brook, from leafy mould interred,\\nWe saw the snowdrop shyly peeping through.\\nThe flock of grackles, decked in raven hue,\\nTurned down the rudders of their tails, and whirred\\nUp to the walnut as a single bird,\\nRasping their wheezy squeak as slow they flew.\\nThe shadow from the gnomon of the pine\\nFell on the dial of the lawn, and told\\nIn intervals of sun, the passing hours\\nBut sap was waking in the eglantine.\\nBeneath the ground the jonquil forged her gold.\\nAnd hope was springing in the hearts of flowers.", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0059.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXL\\nBefore the birds returned t was passing sweet\\nDown in the leafless woods to take our strolls\\nThe silvery glimmer of the beechen boles\\nDrew us still on to where the brooklets meet.\\nThe crocus, bursting from her long retreat,\\nShowed the rare color that her cup unrolls\\nAnd banks of violets, smothering all the knolls,\\nBrought the blue hills and laid them at our feet.\\nFrom Nature s hand the l3n-e is never gone\\nHer tuneful fingers, moving to and fro,\\nMake music on the wind-harp of the pines\\nAnd over golden pebbles, rippling on\\nAmid the greenbrier and the laurel low.\\nHer streams purl sweeter than a Poet s lines\\n42", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0060.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXLI\\nT WAS late in March, and all the air was chill\\nThe turbid River, swollen to the brim.\\nRushed past the bending alders, sullen, grim,\\nWhile sombre o er us rose the rock-ribbed hill.\\nBut down the gorge the silver-running rill\\nGurgled as if t were June, and from the slim\\nDove-colored perches of the beechen limb.\\nSudden we heard the bluebird s welcome trill\\nAh, then we hoped that Spring at last was near,\\nAnd so took heart, for on those wings the hue\\nOf heavenly April came, and well we knew\\nThat soon the water-lily roots would hear.\\nAnd stir their fibres in the waters blue\\nAmong the purple islands, dim and dear.\\n43", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0061.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXLII\\nAs chilling airs grew balmy once again,\\nWithin the forest from a leafless spray\\nSome timorous songster tried his earliest lay,\\nFor Spring was coyly coming up the glen.\\nThe cardinal flashed by within our ken\\nA winged rose where all the groves were gray\\nAnd like a flash of April came the jay,\\nWhile captious in the tangle chafed the wren.\\nBut the brown-sparrow on the alder-tree,\\nOutrivalling better warblers of the wood,\\nForced our applause by bursts of ecstasy\\nAs at Olympia once, dwarf Zenocles,\\nAmid the plaudits of the multitude.\\nWon the wreathed olive from Euripides.\\n44", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0062.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXLIII\\nWe saw the clouds above the hill-top scud,\\nBlown by the winds of March in scattering flocks\\nWhile o er the recently submerged rocks\\nThe yellow River rolled his swollen flood.\\nWithin the roads the ruts were filled with mud\\nUpon the wet lawn sprouted four-o-clocks\\nAnd, following on this vernal equinox.\\nAll sulphur-colored burst the spice-wood bud.\\nAnd then it was, with joyance in our eyes.\\nWe marked the iris push her spears of green\\nAlong the edges of the garden rill\\nAnd then it was, that with a glad surprise,\\nSeeing her glory for a year unseen\\nWe ran to greet the earliest daffodil.\\n45", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0063.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXLIV\\nThrough upland trees we heard the loud winds blow,\\nFor all the chestnut limbs were brown and bare,\\nBut on the southern slopes we lingered, where\\nThe blossoms of the cherry fell like snow.\\nAcross the vale, majestically slow.\\nFloated the shadow of a cloud, and there\\nThe cottage smoke curled in the azure air.\\nAnd winding streams flashed forth a silver glow.\\nAround us, ridges rose of rock and fern\\nBut in the fields afar slow moved the teams,\\nAnd as the plowmen paused to make the turn\\nThe centre lessening at each furrow run\\nAthwart the valley danced the dazzling gleams\\nFrom burnished shares refulgent in the sun\\n46", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0064.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "THE FIELDS OF DAWN\\nXLV\\nWhen o er the mead the jonquil-trumpet blows,\\nSpring sounds once more her soft exultant strain\\nBetween the golden showers of the rain\\nI hear her laughter where the brooklet flows.\\nBeside her path the earliest crocus grows,\\nAnd daffodils go dancing in her train\\nAlong green slopes within the country lane\\nShe bends to greet the budding of the rose.\\nAh yes, long-wished-for May at last I see,\\nWith all her blossoms and with all her blue.\\nAnd gladly from December do I part\\nAnd yet, Dear Love, it is not May with me,\\nFor till the violet brings a sight of you\\nStill is it Winter in my lonely heart\\n47", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0065.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0066.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\n49", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0067.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "Let us sing somewhat higher strains.\\nVineyards and tamarisks delight not all.\\nVirgil.\\n50", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0068.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE SINGER\\nI LISTENED once, upon an Autumn day,\\nUnto a warbler in a golden wood\\nEntranced by the music as I stood.\\nUnequalled seemed to me his wondrous lay.\\nThen as I thought of all the choir of May,\\nEcstatic notes in every solitude,\\nSo changed by that remembrance was my mood,\\nThat, disenthralled, I sadly turned away\\nO Poet, chanting in these waning times,\\nFar from the fair Elizabethan Spring,\\nOutpouring here reiterated rhymes,\\nHow full of pathos is thy sadder fate\\nWho by the spirit art impelled to sing.\\nYet conscious that thy voice is heard too late\\nSI", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0069.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTO AN OLD ANCHOR LYING FAR INLAND\\nAT MATAMORAS\\nPerchance some Spanish galleon after gold\\nDragged thy rude bulk along the coral reef\\nPerhaps some blustering, buccaneering thief,\\nHis mutinous crew held down within the hold,\\nDropped thee in cypress inlets, while he rolled\\nHis booty shoreward ere it came to grief,\\nSuch swaggering, slashing Andalusian chief\\nAs Pedro Alvarado, famed of old.\\nA faithful friend thou wast, now cast away,\\nBent with the strain of dire adversity,\\nMan s great ingratitude thy only wage\\nLike some dim Ammiral of a by-gone day,\\nUnthanked, abandoned in thy useless age,\\nUntombed afar from the familiar sea\\n52", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0070.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nINADEQUACY\\nOh, the swe^t sounds anear each starry gate\\nOf cloudy temples in the ether hung 1\\nOh, phantom voices from the spirit wrung\\nWhen lifted on her airy wings elate\\nAh, for the power such tones to re-create\\nI heard the Seraph, but my halting tongue\\nPronounced but infelicities I sung\\nMere stammerings, vague and inarticulate.\\nSo one adown weird pathways of the night\\nHears in his sleep, by pale ethereal streams,\\nMusic elusively beyond his reach,\\nAnd waking, ever fails to trace aright\\nStrains he hath heard, they lying beyond speech\\nIn depths of incommunicable dreams.\\nS3", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0071.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE ANNUNCIATION\\nA PAINTING BY PIERRE MIGNARD\\nIN POSSESSION OF THE AUTHOR\\nThe radiant angel stands within her room.\\nShe kneels and Hstens on her heaving breast,\\nTo still its flutterings, are her sweet hands pressed,\\nThe while his lips foretell her joyful doom.\\nTears happy tears are rising, and a bloom\\nOf maiden blushes clothes her that attest\\nThe Rose she is. The haloed, heavenly guest\\nLingers upon his cloud of golden gloom.\\nHe gives to her the lily which he brings.\\nEach cherub in the aureole above\\nWhere harps unseen are peaUng peace and love\\nSmiles with delight, and very softly sings\\nWhile over Mary s head, on whitest wings,\\nHovers the presence of the Holy Dove.\\n54", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0072.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nLONGINGS\\nAs some lone Alien, who within his bed\\nAfter long nights of restlessness hath lain\\nTossed with his fever, looking through the pane,\\nSighs for the coming of the morning red\\nTo ease the throbbings of his heart and head,\\nAnd hopes, as night hath failed, that day again\\nMay bring repose unto his tired brain.\\nAnd that, at length, he may be comforted\\nSo we, worn fitful, weak, and ill at ease,\\nSick of this strange existence which is rife\\nWith sorrows feverous that never cease\\nFar from our home, and tired with the strife.\\nPress our flushed faces gainst the glass of Life\\nAnd dream the Dawn, at last, will bring us peace.\\n55", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0073.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTO AN AGED POET\\nWhat if the boat be drifting, down the stream,\\nAnd oars, well-worn, hang idly by its side\\nMust man forever pull against the tide\\nNor bask a little in the sunset beam\\nO Worker in the glorious realm of Dream,\\nRest thou awhile, and let the River guide\\nFar far beyond thee, as the waters glide,\\nBehold the Beauteous City, golden, gleam\\nVex not thy soul, nor fear the coming night\\nWhen evening goes, shall burst the morning light\\nO er all the ocean of eternity\\nBe sure, O Friend, there is a Destiny\\nThat holds the rudder, and that steers aright,\\nThen let the current sweep us to the sea\\n56", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0074.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE ONSET\\nTO EDWARD ROBESON TAYLOR\\nAt the dread waving of Apollyon s rod,\\nAstride their frenzied chargers snorting flame,\\nOn sulphurous clouds the winged Legions came,\\nWith hate enpanoplied, and vengeance shod.\\nUp from the Nadir, myriads of them trod\\nThe shining steeps to Heaven with wild acclaim\\nFurious they rushed, vindictive, and their aim.\\nTo storm the inviolable gates of God\\nAs swarms of sea-birds, by the sunset dazed,\\nBlot out the sky near Kolanara s coast.\\nSo, countless, flew they where the splendor flared\\nWhile, eager on the peaks, with wings upraised\\nDark gainst the fulgence of the surging host\\nThe Heralds, from their lifted trumpets, blared\\n57", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0075.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nBEREFT\\nMy life was in its Autumn, as I lay\\nDreaming upon an upland o er the sea.\\nLonely I was as Lydian Niobe\\nWhen all her pearls Apollo took away.\\nThen came a beauteous woman fair as day,\\nWho gave herself and all her love to me\\nAnon sweet children clambered round my knee\\nEager for kisses, and the time seemed May.\\nThese children s children came, and I was grown\\nAged and worn, but still on them I smiled\\nFor love of them and of the mother mild.\\nSudden I woke childless, forlorn, alone.\\nO Poesy canst thou for this atone\\nThou who hast reft me thus of wife and child\\n58", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0076.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nIN MEMORIAM\\nNot like this stranded hulk along the bay-\\nThat rots by inches as the breakers pour\\nTheir ebb and flow athwart its sunken floor,\\nNot in such slow and ignominious way-\\nDidst thou, O Soul, approach thy final day\\nBut struggling with the surges evermore,\\nAmid the havqc and the deafening roar,\\nThou in our sight didst still defy decay.\\nThou, on the foaming billows to thy grave,\\nBlown by the storms of thine imperious will,\\nWrecked by the blasts of Thought, didst fearless ride,\\nAnd, from the crest of Life s ensanguined wave.\\nThough rudely buffeted, yet battling still,\\nDidst sink to darkness in unconquered pride.\\n59", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0077.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE CATARACT\\nSupreme, from out the hollow of Thy hand\\nThese torrents pour. These glories and these glooms,\\nThese splendors wove on Thine eternal looms,\\nAre fragments of Thy power Thy command\\nMade visible. Thou didst but move Thy wand\\nAbove the void and darkness, and the wombs\\nOf Chaos birthed this wonder that now fumes\\nIn columned spray unutterably grand.\\nAs in the abyss the mighty waters pour.\\nThe rocky canyon to its summit shakes.\\nAnd all the valley trembles under us\\nHigh o er the mist the screaming eagles soar,\\nAs in the chasm the boiling torrent wakes\\nHer everlasting anthem thunderous.\\n60", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0078.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nLONGFELLOW\\nMelodious Poet, on auspicious days\\nWhen o er thy chaste and polished pages bending,\\nI read each sweet Hne to its golden ending,\\nBound am I by the fetters of thy lays.\\nAnd as I follow every happy phrase\\nMusic and beauty to thy matter lending\\nI seem to listen to soft waters wending\\nTheir liquid journey over pebbly ways.\\nFull oft thy verse sounds like a river flowing\\nThrough windy reed-lands to the distant lea\\nAnon thy voice, above the storm-cloud going.\\nPeals as the sounding trumpets of the sea\\nOr, like some mediaeval clarion blowing\\nFrom bannered turrets, rings out silverly.\\n6i", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0079.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE MONARCH\\nDown in the cloudy towers of my sleep\\nA dungeon loomed wherein I heard the groans\\nOf those long ages prisoned moans on moans\\nAnd peering further in the noisome deep,\\nIn which no rays of daylight e er could creep,\\nI saw a skeleton of whitened bones\\nA mighty king s the conqueror of thrones\\nChained to the walls within that donjon-keep.\\nHis crown still blazed upon him, golden-dull.\\nWhence, through the dark, glared jewels, tiger-eyed;\\nIn awe I stood, and trembling, held my breath\\nAnd then a Voice not his who there had died\\nHissed from the hollow of that whitened skull\\nI am the King of Kings, undying Death\\n62", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0080.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nBLAME NOT THE POET\\nBlame not the Poet, ye who idly read,\\nIf on the strings he strike with fingers riide,\\nOr if at times his tones are harsh and crude\\nNature, we know, as oft hath grown a weed\\nAs borne a flower foohsh were he, indeed.\\nWho loved her less for that. Our very blood\\nBounds not with equal pace, but every mood\\nHath its own pulse. Let Nature for him plead,\\nFor she herself is rarely at her best\\nHer harp is oft unstrung not always tense\\nNo flat monotony of excellence\\nIs hers that glorious pageant of the West\\nIs but her gala-day magnificence,\\nThere, as she looks one moment, sumptuous dressed.\\n^Z", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0081.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE FAN\\nDear Lady, never was a gift more meet\\nThan yours this sultry day a palm-leaf fan.\\nThe traveller journeying on from Karaman\\nTo Cairo, southward, scarcely feels more heat\\nThan we at home, there the dark-sandalled feet\\nAnd the swart turbaned faces African\\nScorch on the camels in the caravan,\\nWhile here, to-day, men drop upon the street.\\nIn curtained coolness of this quiet room.\\nWith half-closed eyes, I lean back in my chair.\\nAnd, slowly fanning, tread a land of dreams.\\nI seem to scent the Arabian roses bloom\\nSoft gales of Ceylon reach me from her streams,\\nAnd Persian zephyrs stir the silent air.\\n64", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0082.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nBELLONA\\nTO HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ\\nRound her the deafening cannon crashed and roared\\nMid sulphurous smoke that blotted out the sky\\nUpon the maimed she turned her gloating eye\\nAnd revelled where the red-beaked vultures gored.\\nAnear was seen the onset of a horde\\nWading in slaughter mid heart-rending moans\\nGladly she heard from dying lips their groans\\nAnd clenched, in reeking hands, her dripping sword.\\nScarlet her sandals, saturate with the blood\\nThat flowed from countless vassals and from kings\\nRound her whirled dust of empires and of thrones\\nWhile from her pyramid of human bones,\\nHavoc she screamed, and in the blackness stood\\nWaving the crimson of her awful wings\\n65", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0083.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE TRAVELLERS\\nTO A CLASS OF GIRL-STUDENTS\\nHow oft, at morn, from some lone Alpine door,\\nI watched the traveller toiling up the height,\\nHis feet among the roses, but his sight\\nFixed on the summits where the eagles soar.\\nSteep was his path thunderous the torrent s roar\\nUpward he went with toil, yet with delight.\\nUntil I lost him on the peaks of white.\\nAnd never in the lowlands saw him more.\\nAnd from these dewy valleys, even so,\\nLong have we seen you scaling cliff and scar\\nUpon the Alps of Learning roses now\\nBloom round you, yet, mount higher higher far,\\nFair travellers pass the peaks, and onward go\\nWhere knowledge, lustrous, leads you like a star.\\n66", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0084.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE VOYAGERS\\nA REMINISCENCE OF THE ODYSSEY\\nThey leave the Cyclops roaring in his cave,\\nBereft of sight then to the marge they creep\\nAnd set their sails, and all the triremes sweep\\nSuddenly seaward on the luminous wave.\\nAbout the prows the lithesome mermaids lave\\nStar-crowned foreheads, while the slumbering deep\\nHeaves with the rocks hurled downward from the steep,\\nAnd at the galley bends the shackled slave.\\nThe Auroran twilight, soft and silvery fair,\\nSpreads o er the moving waters silently.\\nWhere dolphins sport upon the rolling swell\\nWhile, rising fulgent from the glimmering sea,\\nThe Horses of the Morning paw the air,\\nAnd, far away, a Triton winds his shell.\\n67", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0085.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTO RICHARD HENRY STODDARD\\nPOET AND CRITIC\\nON THE 74TH ANNIVERSARY OF HIS BIRTH\\nO POET while the Years in veiled array\\nAs stately past the stern procession goes\\nDrop on thy head, at seventy-four, the snows,\\nWhere once they placed, the blossoms in thy May,\\nLet me unheeded Singer of to-day\\nOffer my tribute, with this mountain rose,\\nTo one who is preeminent of those\\nThat keep the Muse s temple from decay.\\nFor Song s unpurchasable Knight thou art,\\nWho, with thy pen as with a sword of fire,\\nGuardest the sacred gates of Poesy\\nTherefore, O Master of the tuneful lyre.\\nAccept the homage which I bring to thee\\nWith hope of long life from my heart of heart\\n68", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0086.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE BATTLE-FIELD\\nGETTYSBURG\\nThose were the conquered, still too proud to yield\\nThese were the victors, yet too poor for shrouds\\nHere scarlet Slaughter slew her countless crowds\\nHeaped high in ranks where er the hot guns pealed.\\nThe brooks that wandered through the battle-field\\nFlowed slowly on in ever-reddening streams\\nHere where the rank wheat waves and golden gleams,\\nThe dreadful squadrons thundering, charged and reeled.\\nWithin the blossoming clover many a bone\\nLying unsepulchred, has bleached to white\\nWhile gentlest hearts that only love had known,\\nHave ached with anguish at the awful sight\\nAnd War s gaunt Vultures that were lean, have grown\\nGorged in the darkness in a single night\\n69", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0087.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nAN EAST RAIN ON THE ISLAND OF CYPRUS\\nHere let me walk upon this headland high\\nWhich jutting heavenward overlooks the main,\\nAnd feel upon my face the pelting rain\\nFrom soft savannas neath an Orient sky.\\nWhat cloudless dome can with this vapor vie\\nFor summer sunshine now I feel disdain\\nThe driven mist, as thine, is my domain,\\nO dove-gray sea-bird drifting dimly by\\nAh, shut me round and hide the half -seen ships\\nCome, soft-blown rain, from tropic fields of rice,\\nFrom plumy capes of far Arabian seas\\nBring wafts of Malabar unto my lips\\nBeat on my brow with drops that touched the teas\\nBy palmy Ceylon and the isles of spice\\n70", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0088.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE BLACK PORTALS\\nSpirit of mine that soon must venturous spread\\nThrough voids unknown thy feeble, fluttering plumes,\\nHast thou no fear to wing those endless glooms\\nNo apprehension nor misgivings dread\\nThose realms unfathomed of the speechless dead,\\nWhich never gleam of eldest star illumes\\nLethean canyons that the Soul entombs\\nArt thou not awed such sombre vasts to tread\\nMy Soul replied Wisdom hath made all things\\nLife and the end of life, He gives to thee.\\nDown Death s worn path the mightiest still have trod.\\nWhere laurelled poets and anointed Kings\\nHave gone for ages, it is good to be\\nRest thou contented with the will of God.\\n71", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0089.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nA COLORED SERVANT UNABLE TO READ\\nWith what a wonder born of mystery\\nShe lifts the books, and reverently grave,\\nMoves mid these voiceless oracles how brave\\nShe bears that doom which naught can mollify.\\nWith longing eyes, perhaps with yearnings high,\\nShe turns the fervid pages Shakespeare gave\\nTo all, it seems, but her, who was a slave.\\nAnd never sees a book without a sigh.\\nJustice is God s Let not her heart rebel\\nFor Knowledge, like that flower which blooms at night,\\nMay burst at last full-blossomed on her sight\\nAnd they, who here, forsooth, seem learned and wise,\\nMay wait without the walls of Paradise,\\nThe while she enters in through serving well.\\n72", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0090.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nIN BONDAGE\\nMan is a Dream of Shadows. Pindar\\nIf speechless through this shadowy vale we stray,\\nReft of the afflatus of the sacred Nine\\nIf mute, in joy or suffering we resign\\nThe dirge to others, and the roundelay,\\nIt will not, Friend, be ordered so alway.\\nFor lips can be unlocked by touch divine\\nE en Memnon s image by the palm and pine\\nSang in the desert at the dawn of day.\\nI feel the Spirit call me from afar\\nAnd if in silence now these steps I wend,\\nThis forced aphonia may not last for long\\nNot here, indeed, but in some fairer star,\\nFed from immortal rills, I hope to end\\nA life ineloquent, with affluent Song.\\n73", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0091.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTO A YOUNG MAID\\nThou bidd st me speak of Love, and thou a girl,\\nA dove-like maiden, innocently sweet,\\nWhose gentle, duteous, and well-mothered feet\\nKnow not the primrose path, nor the red whirl\\nOf passion s vortex. Thou art still a pearl\\nUngathered and unworn. It were not meet\\nThat I should call the dark winds of deceit\\nTo waft my ship of words, so speech must furl\\nHer sail, and anchor here. Some tongue, not mine.\\nShall tell thee later, sweet one what love is\\nSome lips, alas, not these, teach thee the bliss.\\nLong may that vestal nimbus, which is thine,\\nCircle thee round unsullied by Love s kiss\\nAnd angel Innocence, more than half divine\\n74", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0092.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE BARD\\nFrom immemorial times men have agreed\\nTheir greatest are the Poet, Architect,\\nPainter, Musician, those who do elect\\nTo build the Beautiful to ever feed\\nThe cravings of the soul with starry deed\\nThose who their solitary thought project\\nInto the ideal world, and there erect\\nThe cloudy fanes of an ethereal creed.\\nYet not to all, however great and strong\\nThough each a master of his subtile art\\nNot equally to these the bays belong\\nBut, in the vast Valhalla of man s heart,\\nNiched above all, and eminent apart.\\nThe Poet stands, soul of immortal Song\\n75", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0093.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTO A GENERAL OF THE REVOLUTION\\n1776\\nIntrepid Orator and Statesman bold,\\nAt whose impetuous and impassioned words\\nMen dropped the plowshares and took up their swords\\nTo fight for Freedom, in the days of old,\\nForgotten art thou in this lust for gold,\\nAlthough thy strong and stirring life records\\nDeeds that were noble. But this age rewards\\nWith calm neglect thy labors manifold.\\nChampion of Liberty, and of the Right\\nBrother in perilous arms to Washington\\nThou zealous Ruler of a glorious State,\\nIs there no way thy service to requite\\nSleep, Patriot, Sleep nor ever know the great\\nIngratitude of Freedom for her son\\n76", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0094.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE HOME-LAND\\nWhy should I seek for beauty or for ease,\\nOn alien shores afar removed from mine\\nWhat is Illyria, with her oil and wine,\\nFar Andalusia and the Pyrenees,\\nOr Vallombrosa, when compared to these\\nOur native beauties Not the castled Rhine\\nIs fair as Susquehanna, yet we pine\\nFor restless travel o er the illusive seas.\\nAh, rather pluck the rich Floridian rose\\nBy Tampa, or by Pensacola s bay,\\nAnd wander where the wild magnolia blows\\nOr by the balmy sea-coast lingering, stray\\nWhere Coronado offers soft repose\\nAnd cliffs of Candelaria greet the day.\\n77", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0095.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nA LANDSCAPE BY REMBRANDT\\nA DRIFT of Storm obscures the upper air,\\nAnd lower, glows a waste of dubious light\\nIt seems as if the legions of the night\\nWere slowly loosened from some cloudy lair.\\nDim figures climb the winding cliff-path stair\\nAnd lose themselves in shadows which affright\\nThe gloom is ominous, and the inner sight\\nSees half revealed spectres flitting there.\\nThe sombre river lies as if asleep,\\nSave where the boatman with his vaporous oar\\nTroubles the waters. By the dusky shore\\nTwo timid children stand alone and still\\nWhile on the weird crest of the windy steep\\nArise the white arms of the ghostly mill.\\n78", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0096.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nFETTERED\\nT IS true I am not now what I would be\\nIf health had helped me on for I have been\\nAs one who ever battles unforeseen,\\nSome conquering wave within a ruthless sea.\\nHad I but, lifelong, been from illness free\\nAs many a one, then in the hyaline\\nOf song, sailing beyond the ports terrene,\\nI might have reached my haven. But for me\\nSickness hath bound my wings as with a thong\\nHath dimmed my rising star to dark eclipse.\\nAs some pale diver the sea-weed among\\nLets drop his pearls that he may reach the ships,\\nSo I, at last, must close impassioned lips,\\nRelinquishing full many a pearl of song.\\n79", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0097.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE BEAST\\nDeep in the earth s most fathomless profound,\\nIn darksome caverns where there comes no light,\\nI heard a monster crawling through the night,\\nAnd as it came its roaring shook the ground.\\nA Shape invisible, it glared around\\nOnly its eyes I saw a baleful sight\\nGreen-blazing balls of terror and of might\\nFormless the horror came a moving sound.\\nThen, when I thought the Beast would strike me dead.\\nProne in the dark I fell, and, trembling, prayed\\nWhereat, descending from the walls above\\nWhile splendor filled the cave from overhead\\nIn dazzling beauty to my eyes displayed,\\nAppeared the white wings of the sacred Dove.\\n80", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0098.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nA VOICE FROM THE BORDER-LAND\\nA MAIDEN SPEAKS\\nOh, take me not where northern tempests blow\\nAmid the mountains of my native shore,\\nWhere the great rivers with their thunderous roar\\nDark through the palUd valleys plunging go\\nBut on this golden coast, where breezes low\\nFloat from pacific seas unknown before,\\nHere let me breathe until my day is o er.\\nFar from the land of lone Laurentian snow.\\nAlas, if I so young must meet my doom,\\nLet it be here by Esperanza s lake\\nWhere Bernardino s ranges rise, and take\\nThe splendors of the morning, or where bloom\\nOf Pasadena s roses still may make\\nRemembered fragrance round my dying room.\\n8i", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0099.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE COMMONPLACE\\nAlong the marsh a group of silent reeds\\nThe rain-filled ruts reflecting heaven s deep hue\\nIn muddy roads, and as the dome as blue;\\nSome chattering snow-birds clustering on the seeds\\nOf winter s withered flowers, miscalled weeds\\nPale wraiths of steam from some far factory flue\\nSeen at the dawn, the red sun shining through\\nAnd dun clouds rolling from the iron steeds.\\nThe saw-mill that within the woodland sings\\nWistaria, purpling some old whitewashed wall\\nA glass of water from up-bubbling springs\\nThis simple sonnet with its lowly wings\\nSkimming the surface of the commonest things,\\nE en these have pleased me when high themes would\\npall.\\n82", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0100.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE QUEEN OF THE TIDES\\nShe moves through heaven as the home of light,\\nSeeming a world beyond our own more blessed\\nAnd when her silvery shallop seeks the West,\\nFain would we follow to her regions bright.\\nBut she hath yawns of Darkness, black as night\\nRiverless canyons sulphurous gulphs unguessed\\nAnd o er her monstrous crater s lava crest\\nNever a cloud hath poised its fleecy white.\\nNo flower is there no grave, no gracious sod\\nNo blessed rain within those vales of stone\\nShe seems some incompleted thought of God\\nAnd on that pallid orb as on a throne\\nWhere no created thing perchance hath trod\\nEternal Silence sits and broods alone.\\n^3", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0101.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTO AN OLD LABORER\\nOn looking from the window to the street\\nEach eve is seen an old man trudging by,\\nInfirm and poor, with body bent awry.\\nAnd head bowed forward toward his tired feet.\\nBlack with the dust, and sweltering with the heat\\nShovelling the coals each day incessantly\\nHe never looks from pavement to the sky,\\nNor any of the passers does he greet.\\nThus every eve through sunshine or through sleet.\\nHe may be seen, as slow he shuffles nigh.\\nBrave heart let me salute you, as is meet\\nWe both are of the toilers, you and I,\\nYou ve fought for seventy years against defeat.\\nNow victory s near for some day you will die\\n84", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0102.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nON A PAINTING\\nYou mark at eve, far outward to the sea,\\nEnormous cliffs that rise and grandly loom,\\nMonsters portentous of some direful doom,\\nGuarding the gateways to immensity.\\nLow down the scarlet clouds are drifting free\\nWhere dying roses of the sunset bloom\\nAnd voices, as of phantoms from the gloom.\\nReverberate the things that are to be.\\nDarkness is coming from the caves of sleep\\nTo soothe the restless breezes, and to lull\\nThe crimson billows that unceasing roll\\nAnd silence broods upon the purpling deep\\nWhere, like a disembodied, wandering soul,\\nWavers the pinion of the lonely gull\\n8S", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0103.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nHE BUILDS THE CITY OF ENOCH\\nYearly I till the vale and sow the seed,\\nBut in the furrow rots the golden grain\\nMy labor is accursed, and all in vain,\\nThe very earth revolting at my deed.\\nGod saith no man shall slay me, though I plead\\nDaily for death. He placed this scarlet stain\\nUpon my brow, and agonizing pain\\nGnaws me beneath it yet He gives no heed.\\nEnoch reproacheth me the guileless lad\\nWith eyes too like that other long since dead,\\nRemorse engulfs me in her sanguine flood\\nI build this City, else I should go mad\\nBut, as I work, the frowning walls turn red,\\nAnd all the towers drip crimson with his blood.\\n86", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0104.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE SPIRIT OF POESY\\nNot the close friendship of the closest friends\\nNot wealth descending on her golden wings\\nTitles nor honor, no ephemeral things,\\nCan, for the lack of her, e er make amends.\\nShe will not stoop to sublunary ends,\\nNor touch the baubles which the base world brings\\nHer song unpurchasable, still she sings,\\nAnd all her soul upon the singing spends.\\nShe treads her constellated paths alone,\\nSandalled with starry aspirations bright,\\nBeyond the visions of this world how far\\nSadly she sits upon her dazzling throne\\nIn fading splendor, like a lingering star\\nThat pales at sunrise in the wastes of light\\n87", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0105.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE FIELDS OF QUIET\\nSpirit, whose wings, unruffled, ever seem\\nFolded in calm across thy peaceful breast,\\nWho waitest near the Throne within the West,\\nWhere are the Quiet Fields of which we dream\\nLie they along that molten-golden stream.\\nThat flows at eve above yon mountain s crest\\nAre they the vales reclusive, named of Rest,\\nThat through the opal gateways faintly gleam\\nAnd then a voice in faint seraphic strain\\nCame drifting downward on the twilight breath,\\nFrom realms unseen beyond the vesper sky\\nThe Fields of Quiet, here ye seek in vain\\nWithin the Dark those ashen regions lie,\\nDeep in the kingdoms of the Monarch, Death\\n88", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0106.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nNICARAGUA\\n1900\\nI, LAKE of Nicaragua, lifted here\\nHigh on the mountains from my sister seas,\\nHave yet a yearning to be joined to these.\\nAnd feel at last my reunition near.\\nFar off arise and echo, silver clear.\\nClarions of Hope and on the island-leas\\nHymns of return hum through my tropic trees,\\nO day so long desired, soon appear\\nThen many a ship that floats the stripes and stars\\nMay cross my waters as with angel wings\\nGrain-laden for the famine-stricken East\\nBut battle-squadrons, bent on bloody wars.\\nShall come, alas, the while that senseless Beast\\nRamps in the hearts of Peoples and of Kings,\\n89", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0107.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nTHE DYING DAY\\nWhat is thy trouble, Day, in that thine eyes\\nAre weighted with the beauty of despair\\nThat all the illusive glory of thy hair,\\nLike a fond hope fallacious, fades and dies\\nStabbed by the spear of empty prophecies,\\nBecome the burthens, then, too hard to bear\\nOr does the thought of realms thou must forswear\\nFlood thee, at eve, with these melodious sighs\\nOr dost thou feel the intolerable weight\\nThe iron crown of hours on thy head\\nAnd, sadly glad, as we at evening s gate,\\nSmile in thy heart that thou shalt soon be dead,\\nBecause the splendors of an earlier state\\nAnd Dreams auroran now are vanished\\n90", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0108.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nLOOKING SEAWARD\\nThe headland cliff within the outer bay-\\nRises uncertain through the distance dim\\nIts base is veiled, and faint the shadowy rim\\nUplooms a spectre o er the wastes of gray.\\nAh, could I, from my bondage loosed to-day,\\nLeave the dull coast and o er the ocean s brim,\\nImpelled by mine own longings, onward skim\\nTo find a home within the Far Away\\nAh, had I but the wandering petrel s plume,\\nTireless and wild, and as the wind as free,\\nThen would I bathe my wings anear thy base,\\nO Cliff unknown, and, where the rollers boom,\\nForget the empty baubles that we chase.\\nAnd lose myself in being one with thee\\n91", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0109.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nIN THE VALLEY OF DREAMS\\nThe bearers of my cups have served me well.\\nElizabeth Stoddard.\\nI YEARNED for knowledge and her starry beams,\\nFor radiance of imperial thought I sighed\\nThe more I searched that shining shore and wide,\\nThe further from me flowed the wondrous streams.\\nThen in the cave of sleep that dimly gleams\\nThe rudder of volition slipped aside.\\nAnd night brought to me what the day denied\\nThe rich phantasmagoria of Dreams\\nSo one at noon, within a sunlit field,\\nPeers at the blank impenetrable sky.\\nTo find his vision bounded as with bars\\nThen enters some deep shaft, and there on high.\\nUp through its tube of darkness, sees revealed\\nThe imperishable splendor of the stars.\\n92", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0110.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nSAMSON\\nBent upon love, and beautiful as day,\\nSamson the youth to Timnath passed along\\nMusing of her, he hummed a desert song,\\nWhen lo a lion barred his onward way.\\nWho would be victor in the unequal fray\\nHe thought of love, and laughed that he was strong,\\nAnd conquered. Little did he deem, ere long,\\nThat Hon Passion him would heartless slay.\\nHow many a man in youth s supremest hour\\nWho fells the lions in his path, will find\\nSome dread Delilah, as the years entice\\nShorn of his will and of his pristine power,\\nHe following the primrose path of vice\\nFalls with the falling temple of his mind\\n93", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0111.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nIN LEAF-DRIFTED AISLES\\nI LOVE to linger on the hill-side brown\\nWhen all the verdure of the year is dead,\\nWhat time the sumac drops her darts of red,\\nWith some dear friend, far from the noise of town\\nAnd pacing slowly on the slopes, look down\\nUpon the dreamy islands that are wed\\nIn bonds of blue together, while o erhead\\nThe glowing twilight settles as a crown.\\nSweet as this is, yet I more dearly love.\\nDeep in the umber of the woodland ways,\\nAfar to wander, silent, and alone\\nFor ah as through the dry leaves on I move,\\nI hear lost footsteps, loved in other days.\\nAnd voices touch me of the old sweet tone I\\n94", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0112.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nISOLATION\\nSTOOD aside and watched the countless throng\\nAscend the windings of the luminous street\\nLovers were there whose pure and saintly feet\\nKept rhythmic measure as they wound along.\\nrlad groups of little children played among\\nThe fadeless flow rs Madonna-mothers sweet\\nCooed o er their babes while from their golden seat\\nThe harping choir sang some deathless song.\\nn midst of these, enlaurelled, but apart,\\nDim forms paced slowly on and softly sighed\\nAs though they searched for dreams beyond them flown\\nhe Poets they, who, each with aching heart,\\nUpon the earth had lonely lived and died,\\nAnd who, e en there in heaven, seemed still alone.\\n95", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0113.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nIN THE METROPOLIS\\nI LIKE not with the City s human stream\\nTo be rushed onward, nor to hear the groan\\nOf restless, hurrying masses, avarice-blown\\nAlong the streets, with trade their only theme\\nHow can the sylvan poet dream his dream\\nAmid the raging Babel round him thrown,\\nCanyons of brick paved with reverberate stone,\\nThe whirl of traffic, and the shriek of steam\\nBut oh, far off from all the noise of these,\\nTo pace the shores that to the soul belong.\\nIn realms reclusive past the thought of care\\nBy the lone foam of sanctuary seas\\nTo hear drift on, in deeps of sunset air,\\nThe phantom caravels of deathless Song\\n96", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0114.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nON PRESENTING A SONNET\\nPoet, whose Muse beneath the southern vine\\nHath trod where fond Alpheus softly flows\\nTo join his Arethusa where she rose\\nIn that famed Isle of olives and of wine\\nThou who wast called by the Pierian Nine,\\nAnd lov st the Enna shepherd as he goes\\nFluting mid heifers where the herds repose,\\nAlong the valleys lost to Proserpine\\nThou who with rare Theocritus communed\\nIn sweet Sicilian dales, far off and dim,\\nDeign to accept this all unworthy lay\\nFrom one least of the train whose harps are tuned\\nTo Poesy this page of Song, from him\\nWho loves like thee the Dorians passed away.\\n97", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0115.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nA FLIGHT DOWNWARD\\nUpon vermilion ridges that upstand\\nHigh barriers between Hell and Paradise,\\nI stood beside the Angel, while mine eyes\\nPeered down into the ever-dreaded land\\nWhere souls still bear the torment of the banned.\\nThen saw I there my love whom in the skies\\nOf Heaven I thought enduring agonies.\\nWhy is she there of him I made demand.\\nThen he, God judged her guilty of a sin,\\nAges she has to suffer. I replied,\\nWhile in my eager ear he spake its name,\\nLo, I will fly to earth from whence I came\\nI will commit that crime, like doom to win.\\nAnd find my heaven in suffering by her side\\n98", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0116.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nIN MEMORY OF\\nALFRED, LORD TENNYSON\\n1892\\nNo more our Nightingale shall sing his lay\\nThe groves are mute, for he has taken flight\\nHe whose mellifluous voice was our delight\\nHas, by his death, brought sorrow and dismay.\\nThere is a beauty gone from out the day\\nThere is a planet fallen from the night\\nA splendor is withdrawn from out our sight,\\nA glory now for ever passed away.\\nA thousand hearts unused to bleed have bled.\\nAnd drops of pity dim the hard world s eye\\nAnd oh, what memories of the day-spring fled\\nWhat vanished hopes, what first love s ecstasy\\nAh, we have lost what time can ne er supply.\\nFor now the Poet of our Youth is dead\\n99", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0117.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nESTRANGED\\nWithin the sunshine of your gracious smile\\nI spread my leaves and rapturously grew,\\nRearing my towering branches to the blue\\nBecause your nature seemed so sweet the while.\\nAnd though I would not your fair fame revile,\\nThe current of your being which I knew\\nHas changed, and I am wasting from your view,\\nWorn by the slow abrasion of your guile.\\nSo some alluvial island in mid- stream.\\nBowery with elm and bending sycamore\\nThat kissed the summer waters in a dream\\nIs, by a change of channel, made the prey\\nOf currents whose corrosions gnaw the shore\\nAnd waste it irretrievably away\\nlOO", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0118.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nARRIVAL OF THE WELCOME\\nIN COMMEMORATION OF THE FIRST LANDING OF\\nWILLIAM PENN IN PENNSYLVANIA\\nHow beautiful she looked in that far day\\nWith all her canvas flying in the breeze,\\nThe stately Welcome, from the stormy seas,\\nWafted on dove-like wings along the bay\\nPeace on the Earth, her fluttering pennons say,\\nAnd from her deck a voice Good-will to men\\nFor he had come, the courtly Quaker, Penn,\\nFull of his dream of philanthropic sway.\\nAnd must the feet of Progress ever be\\nIncarnadined by still recurring wars,\\nWhile from her path is swept each barbarous horde\\nOh, may this Land, now under thrall of Mars,\\nEnd her red slaughter by the Asian sea.\\nAnd sheathe her once inviolable sword", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0119.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nA WINTER FLIGHT\\nWhen wintry winds are howling round my home\\nOn Appalachian uplands drear and white,\\nI love to spread my spirit s wing in flight\\nAnd through DeLeon s flowery land to roam.\\nI soar by Femandina, where the dome\\nIs azure as our Summer s, or alight\\nWhere inland Arredonian pines invite,\\nOr skim the marge by Sarasota s foam.\\nBy Espanola many a moss-hung dell\\nAllures me onward o er the sunny ground\\nI touch at Punta Gorda where the swell\\nSways lazily the shipping, outward bound,\\nOr rest my wings awhile at Carrabelle\\nNear Apalachicola s silver sound.\\n102", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0120.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nA WINTER FLIGHT\\nII\\nStill yearning for a sight of other skies,\\nAcross the Atlantic seeking stranger shores,\\nI touch a moment at the dim Azores,\\nThen onward wing to where Illyria lies.\\nOn purple Zante soft the sunset dies,\\nAnd round the cape where Lamenaria soars\\nThere comes a sound of song and dripping oars,\\nAnd Monemvasia from her cliff replies.\\nSweet Falconera, violet of the seas\\nBeckons from all her inlets deep and blue.\\nWhile Zea whispers where her olive clings.\\nAnd voices call me, such as Circe knew.\\nTill I descend amid the Cyclades\\nAnd on the breast of Delos fold my wings.\\n103", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0121.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nINVOCATION\\nO GUARDIAN of the sought-for sacred fire\\nMother of splendors springing from the mind\\nImperial Inventress let me find\\nMelodious solace great as my desire\\nGrant me to waken thy impassioned lyre\\nTo most mellifluent music, and unbind\\nThe bands of silence oh, once more be kind,\\nE en unto me, the least among thy choir\\nSpirit of deathless Poesy and Dreams,\\nStoop down above me all the day and nightj\\nBe ever near the while I draw this breath\\nOh, flood me with thy visionary light,\\nAnd make me vocal with thy starry themes\\nBefore the final aphony of death\\n104", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0122.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "LATER SONNETS\\nINVOCATION\\nII\\nO Breath of Godhead, voicing mysteries\\nThat mortal men, unheeding, seldom hear,\\nFain would my spirit bend a reverent ear\\nTo feast upon Thy heavenly harmonies\\nCome through the sunset gates, or on the breeze\\nMemnonian, murmur to me, spirit-clear\\nBreathe solace, and dispel this lifelong tear\\nBy mystic music sweeter than the sea s\\nGive to this essence flaming seraph wings.\\nOr burn it, incense-like, to Thee and Thine,\\nUpon Thy altar with its purging fire\\nStrike Thou at last from out these trembling strings\\nApocalypses of the Inner Shrine\\nO Breath of God make of my soul Thy lyre\\n105", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0123.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "Electroiyped and printed by H. O. Houghton 2r\u00c2\u00bb Co.\\nCambridge, Mass, U.S. A.", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0124.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0125.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0126.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0127.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "4.^^\\n^f\\ni:^_ c\u00c2\u00b0-", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0128.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "lOv-,\\n^9^\\n,v\\no\\nj-\u00c2\u00b0-nj..", "height": "3330", "width": "2098", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0129.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "015 871 168", "height": "3339", "width": "2085", "jp2-path": "fieldsofdawnlate00miff_0130.jp2"}}