TO A HESPERID.

I HAD passed a dull existence,

Lifeless, useless, stale, forlorn,

Till a Hesperid flew eastward,

A bright Hesperid flew eastward,

And my sinking soul was drawn

Out of dulness and indifference;

For I cared not where I strayed,

So I kept my soul in motion,

Angry, feverish, aimless motion,

Tending surely toward the grave.

When the fair light burst upon me,

Like a ray of hope divine,

All my past life left my memory;

Sad Experience ceased to twine

Her cold arms about my future,

Like some noxious clinging vine.

New fresh springs of expectation

Bubbled through the softening soil

Of a heart that had been stony,

Stony, callous, dreary, wild,

Hard from unsuccessful toil.

Toil no longer unsuccessful,

With an angel near to guide,

With an angel face before me,

Angel footsteps at my side.

But my angel guest was human;

Human nature, yet divine,

Formed a bond of strong affection

Twixt her throbbing heart and mine.

Books we read, great deeds recounting;

Tale on tale in measured line,-

Tales of gods and tales of heroes,-

Banquets where the ruby wine

And the ambrosia of the immortals

Marked the progress slow of time;

Where no toil nor care can enter,

Free from changing scenes of clime,

Free from winter's bitter chill,

And free from summer's scorching wind.

Why pursue the story further

Toward the inevitable decline

Of my hopes so dearly cherished,

Of my peace of soul and mind?

Like some gloomy crag portraying

On its weather-beaten front

Suffering and silent torture;

Perhaps Actaeon in the hunt,

When himself the prey afforded

To his ravening hounds that sped

Fiercely o'er the mountain ridges;

Perhaps Medusa's Gorgon head.

So I see my fate before me,

Fixed as adamant it stands;

Other lands will know her sweetness;

To the embrace of other hands

Swiftly her far journey speeding,

Speeding westward to those strands,

Where a fuller, warmer nature

Breathes into the heart of man,

Stirring him to easier action,

Making all his pulses beat,

Filling him with greater courage,

Warming with a kindlier heat.

Then, farewell! Farewell forever!

Gentle Hesperid, and kind.

Kind I call thee, yet 't were cruel

Thus the records of the mind,

The fair records, full of sunshine,

Hope, and sweetness, to divide;

Robbing life of all its flavor,

Turning back existence' tide.

But the gods, not we, have willed it,

In their happy homes above,

Caring little for our suffering,

Little for the pangs of love.

H. H.