the old carrier
evening on lake Como
the postern gate
January in the Tremezzina
under the plane tree
The pagan past
the call of the blood
the iron crown
in my Pergola
lake Como in autumn
to the portrait of Napoleon
day and night
passing and permanent
farewell to the faun
Lines written for A golden
to the walking-Stick of my dead friend
To Mr. And Mrs. A.H.S.
To M.C. Of Athens
To miss Mary C. Low
in memoriam. G.M.M.
To Hon. Charles M. Dickinson
To Hon. Jesse HOLDOM
The kiss to the flag
serenade to Ninon
the red Tyrolean eagle
stream and sea
* * * * *
MY “PROMENADE SOLITAIRE”
Up and down in my garden fair,
Under the trellis where grapes will bloom,
With the breath of violets in the air,
As pallid Winter for Spring makes room,
I walk and ponder, free from care,
In my beautiful Promenade Solitaire.
Back and forth in the checkered shade
Traced by the lattice that holds the vine,
With the glory of snow-capped crests displayed
On the sapphire sky in a billowy line,
I stroll, and ask what can compare
With the charm of my Promenade Solitaire.
To and fro ’neath the nascent green
Which clambers over its slender frame,
With white peaks lighting up the scene,
As snowfields glow with the sunset flame,
I saunter, halting here and there
For the view from my Promenade Solitaire.
In and out through the silence sweet,
Plash of fountain and song of bird
Are the only sounds in my lov’d retreat
By which the air is ever stirred;
It is like a long-drawn aisle of prayer,
So hushed is my Promenade Solitaire.
Onward rushes the world without,
But the breeze which over my garden steals
Brings from it merely a distant shout
Or the echo light of passing wheels;
In its din and drive I have now no share,
As I muse in my Promenade Solitaire.