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Ione.

II

      ‘T was in the radiant summer weather,

      When God looked, smiling, from the sky;

      And we went wand’ring much together

      By wood and lane, Ione and I,

      Attracted by the subtle tie

      Of common thoughts and common tastes,

      Of eyes whose vision saw the same,

      And freely granted beauty’s claim

      Where others found but worthless wastes.

      We paused to hear the far bells ringing

      Across the distance, sweet and clear.

      We listened to the wild bird’s singing

      The song he meant for his mate’s ear,

      And deemed our chance to do so dear.

      We loved to watch the warrior Sun,

      With flaming shield and flaunting crest,

      Go striding down the gory West,

      When Day’s long fight was fought and won.

      And life became a different story;

      Where’er I looked, I saw new light.

      Earth’s self assumed a greater glory,

      Mine eyes were cleared to fuller sight.

      Then first I saw the need and might

      Of that fair band, the singing throng,

      Who, gifted with the skill divine,

      Take up the threads of life, spun fine,

      And weave them into soulful song.

      They sung for me, whose passion pressing

      My soul, found vent in song nor line.

      They bore the burden of expressing

      All that I felt, with art’s design,

      And every word of theirs was mine.

      I read them to Ione, ofttimes,

      By hill and shore, beneath fair skies,

      And she looked deeply in mine eyes,

      And knew my love spoke through their rhymes.

      Her life was like the stream that floweth,

      And mine was like the waiting sea;

      Her love was like the flower that bloweth,

      And mine was like the searching bee—

      I found her sweetness all for me.

      God plied him in the mint of time,

      And coined for us a golden day,

      And rolled it ringing down life’s way

      With love’s sweet music in its chime.

      And God unclasped the Book of Ages,

      And laid it open to our sight;

      Upon the dimness of its pages,

      So long consigned to rayless night,

      He shed the glory of his light.

      We read them well, we read them long,

      And ever thrilling did we see

      That love ruled all humanity,—

      The master passion, pure and strong.

III

      To-day my skies are bare and ashen,

      And bend on me without a beam.

      Since love is held the master-passion,

      Its loss must be the pain supreme—

      And grinning Fate has wrecked my dream.

      But pardon, dear departed Guest,

      I will not rant, I will not rail;

      For good the grain must feel the flail;

      There are whom love has never blessed.

      I had and have a younger brother,

      One whom I loved and love to-day

      As never fond and doting mother

      Adored the babe who found its way

      From heavenly scenes into her day.

      Oh, he was full of youth’s new wine,—

      A man on life’s ascending slope,

      Flushed with ambition, full of hope;

      And every wish of his was mine.

      A kingly youth; the way before him

      –

      Was thronged with victories to be won;

      So joyous, too, the heavens o’er him

      Were bright with an unchanging sun,—

      His days with rhyme were overrun.

      Toil had not taught him Nature’s prose,

      Tears had not dimmed his brilliant eyes,

      And sorrow had not made him wise;

      His life was in the budding rose.

      I know not how I came to waken,

      Some instinct pricked my soul to sight;

      My heart by some vague thrill was shaken,—

      A thrill so true and yet so slight,

      I hardly deemed I read aright.

      As when a sleeper, ign’rant why,

      Not knowing what mysterious hand

      Has called him out of slumberland,

      Starts up to find some danger nigh.

      Love is a guest that comes, unbidden,

      But, having come, asserts his right;

      He will not be repressed nor hidden.

      And so my brother’s dawning plight

      Became uncovered to my sight.

      Some sound-mote in his passing tone

      Caught in the meshes of my ear;

      Some little glance, a shade too dear,

      Betrayed the love he bore Ione.

      What could I do? He was my brother,

      And young, and full of hope and trust;

      I could not, dared not try to smother

      His flame, and turn his heart to dust.

      I knew how oft life gives a crust

      To starving men who cry for bread;

      But he was young, so few his days,

      He had not learned the great world’s ways,

      Nor Disappointment’s volumes read.

      However fair and rich the booty,

      I could not make his loss my gain.

      For love is dear, but dearer duty,

      –

      And here my way was clear and plain.

      I saw how I could save him pain.

      And so, with all my day grown dim,

      That this loved brother’s sun might shine,

      I joined his suit, gave over mine,

      And

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