Father Ignatius,—Yet for safety's sake,—
Give ye the thalers,—that they read a mass
For that same pike-man's soul,—that when my foot
Is set in heaven,—the carrion may not
From flames of hell lock forth upon me with
Those eyes of his,—the ending,—Yea,—because—
"The Apostles" (1911).
1. ON THE HILL-SIDE.
Here is the sweetest grass-plot for a bed,
In softest lethargy to close the eyes,
On naught to brood, nor yearn, but let the head
Droop in the grassy couch. . . Like wreckage flies
A huddled clot of clouds, that yonder soar
Behind the mountain's ridge. . . All lulls thee here,
Insects adrone, grass, plant-steme bending o'er,
The flight of sluggish moths. . . To thee appear
Gleams as from waters, with a radiant leap.
And by thy head there stands a calm unknown.
Thou feel'st 'tis wondrous with the dead to sleep,
For Earth has cradle-ditties of her own!
"From My Country" (1893).
