Henry Van Dyke
Remarks About Kings
“God said I am tired of kings.” EMERSON God said, “I am tired of kings,” But that was a long while ago! And meantime man said, “No, I like their looks in their robes
The Name of France
Give us a name to fill the mind With the shining thoughts that lead mankind, The glory of learning, the joy of art, A name that tells of a splendid part In the long,
The Oxford Thrushes
FEBRUARY, 1917 I never thought again to hear The Oxford thrushes singing clear, Amid the February rain, Their sweet, indomitable strain. A wintry vapor lightly spreads Among the trees, and round the beds Where
Work
Let me but do my work from day to day, In field or forest, at the desk or loom, In roaring market-place or tranquil room; Let me but find it in my heart to
A Home Song
I read within a poet’s book A word that starred the page: “Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage!” Yes, that is true; and something more You’ll find, where’er
A Health to Mark Twain
At his Birthday Feast With memories old and wishes new We crown our cups again, And here’s to you, and here’s to you With love that ne’er shall wane! And may you keep, at
Undine
‘T was far away and long ago, When I was but a dreaming boy, This fairy tale of love and woe Entranced my heart with tearful joy; And while with white Undine I wept,
Music
I PRELUDE Daughter of Psyche, pledge of that last night When, pierced with pain and bitter-sweet delight, She knew her Love and saw her Lord depart, Then breathed her wonder and her woe forlorn
Shelley
Knight-errant of the Never-ending Quest, And Minstrel of the Unfulfilled Desire; For ever tuning thy frail earthly lyre To some unearthly music, and possessed With painful passionate longing to invest The golden dream of
New Year's Eve
I The other night I had a dream, most clear And comforting, complete In every line, a crystal sphere, And full of intimate and secret cheer. Therefore I will repeat That vision, dearest heart,
Indian Summer
A soft veil dims the tender skies, And half conceals from pensive eyes The bronzing tokens of the fall; A calmness broods upon the hills, And summer’s parting dream distills A charm of silence
A Scrap of Paper
“Will you go to war just for a scrap of paper?” Question Of the German Chancellor to the British Ambassador, August 5, 1914. A mocking question! Britain’s answer came Swift as the light and
Patria
I would not even ask my heart to say If I could love some other land as well As thee, my country, had I felt the spell Of Italy at birth, or learned to
Autumn in the Garden
When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark Makes its mark On the flowers, and the misty morning grieves Over fallen leaves; Then my olden garden, where the golden soil Through the toil
Wordsworth
Wordsworth, thy music like a river rolls Among the mountains, and thy song is fed By living springs far up the watershed; No whirling flood nor parching drought controls The crystal current: even on
One World
“The worlds in which we live are two The world ‘I am’ and the world ‘I do.'” The worlds in which we live at heart are one, The world “I am,” the fruit of
Time Is
Time is Too Slow for those who Wait, Too Swift for those who Fear, Too Long for those who Grieve, Too Short for those who Rejoice; But for those who Love, Time is not.
Flood-Tide of Flowers
IN HOLLAND The laggard winter ebbed so slow With freezing rain and melting snow, It seemed as if the earth would stay Forever where the tide was low, In sodden green and watery gray.
Master of Music
Glory of architect, glory of painter, and sculptor, and bard, Living forever in temple and picture and statue and song, Look how the world with the lights that they lit is illumined and starred,
Keats
The melancholy gift Aurora gained From Jove, that her sad lover should not see The face of death, no goddess asked for thee, My Keats! But when the crimson blood-drop stained Thy pillow, thou
Sicily, December 1908
O garden isle, beloved by Sun and Sea, Whose bluest billows kiss thy curving bays, Whose amorous light enfolds thee in warm rays That fill with fruit each dark-leaved orange-tree, What hidden hatred hath
The Ancestral Dwelling
Dear to my heart are the ancestral dwellings of America, Dearer than if they were haunted by ghosts of royal splendour; These are the homes that were built by the brave beginners of a
My April Lady
When down the stair at morning The sunbeams round her float, Sweet rivulets of laughter Are bubbling in her throat; The gladness of her greeting Is gold without alloy; And in the morning sunlight
If All the Skies
If all the skies were sunshine, Our faces would be fain To feel once more upon them The cooling splash of rain. If all the world were music, Our hearts would often long For
Hesper
Her eyes are like the evening air, Her voice is like a rose, Her lips are like a lovely song, That ripples as it flows, And she herself is sweeter than The sweetest thing
The Heavenly Hills of Holland
The heavenly hills of Holland, How wondrously they rise Above the smooth green pastures Into the azure skies! With blue and purple hollows, With peaks of dazzling snow, Along the far horizon The clouds
Robert Browning
How blind the toil that burrows like the mole, In winding graveyard pathways underground, For Browning’s lineage! What if men have found Poor footmen or rich merchants on the roll Of his forbears? Did
To James Whitcomb Riley
On his “Book of Joyous Children” Yours is a garden of old-fashioned flowers; Joyous children delight to play there; Weary men find rest in its bowers, Watching the lingering light of day there. Old-time
When Tulips Bloom
I When tulips bloom in Union Aquare, And timid breaths of vernal air Go wandering down the dusty town, Like children lost in Vanity Fair; When every long, unlovely row Of westward houses stands
Hudson's Last Voyage
June 22, 1611 THE SHALLOP ON HUDSON BAY One sail in sight upon the lonely sea And only one, God knows! For never ship But mine broke through the icy gates that guard These
Light Between the Trees
Long, long, long the trail Through the brooding forest-gloom, Down the shadowy, lonely vale Into silence, like a room Where the light of life has fled, And the jealous curtains close Round the passionless
Thomas Bailey Aldrich
I BIRTHDAY VERSES Dear Aldrich, now November’s mellow days Have brought another Festa round to you, You can’t refuse a loving-cup of praise From friends the fleeting years have bound to you. Here come
Mare Liberum
You dare to say with perjured lips, “We fight to make the ocean free”? You, whose black trail of butchered ships Bestrews the bed of every sea Where German submarines have wrought Their horrors!
Storm-Music
O Music hast thou only heard The laughing river, the singing bird, The murmuring wind in the poplar-trees, Nothing but Nature’s melodies? Nay, thou hearest all her tones, As a Queen must hear! Sounds
Four Things
Four things a man must learn to do If he would make his record true: To think without confusion clearly; To love his fellow man sincerely; To act from honest motives purely; To trust
Inscriptions for a Friend's House
THE HOUSE The cornerstone in Truth is laid, The guardian walls of Honour made, The roof of Faith is built above, The fire upon the hearth is Love: Though rains descend and loud winds
Pan Learns Music
Limber-limbed, lazy god, stretched on the rock, Where is sweet Echo, and where is your flock? What are you making here? “Listen,” said Pan, “Out of a river-reed music for man!”
Urbs Coronata
(Song for the City College of New York) O youngest of the giant brood Of cities far-renowned; In wealth and power thou hast passed Thy rivals at a bound; And now thou art a
Life
Let me but live my life from year to year, With forward face and unreluctant soul; Not hurrying to, nor turning from the goal; Not mourning for the things that disappear In the dim
America for Me
‘Tis fine to see the Old World and travel up and down Among the famous palaces and cities of renown, To admire the crumblyh castles and the statues and kings But now I think
Longfellow
In a great land, a new land, a land full of labour And riches and confusion, Where there were many running to and fro, and Shouting, and striving together, In the midst of the
Echoes From the Greek Mythology
I – STARLIGHT With two bright eyes, my star, my love, Thou lookest on the stars above: Ah, would that I the heaven might be With a million eyes to look on thee. Plato.
Victor Hugo
Heart of France for a hundred years, Passionate, sensitive, proud, and strong, Quick to throb with her hopes and fears, Fierce to flame with her sense of wrong! You, who hailed with a morning
Spring in the South
Now in the oak the sap of life is welling, Tho’ to the bough the rusty leafage clings; Now on the elm the misty buds are swelling, See how the pine-wood grows alive with
Jesus, Thou Divine Companion
Jesus, Thou divine Companion, By Thy lowly human birth Thou hast come to join the workers, Burden bearers of the earth. Thou, the Carpenter of Nazareth, Toiling for Thy daily food, By Thy patience
Mother Earth
Mother of all the high-strung poets and singers departed, Mother of all the grass that weaves over their graves the glory of the field, Mother of all the manifold forms of life, deep-bosomed, patient,
The Hermit Thrush
O wonderful! How liquid clear The molten gold of that ethereal tone, Floating and falling through the wood alone, A hermit-hymn poured out for God to hear! 0 holy, holy, holy! Hyaline, Long light,
The Vain King
In robes of Tyrian blue the King was drest, A jewelled collar shone upon his breast, A giant ruby glittered in his crown – Lord of rich lands and many a splendid town. In
The Black Birds
I Once, only once, I saw it clear, That Eden every human heart has dreamed A hundred times, but always far away! Ah, well do I remember how it seemed, Through the still atmosphere
America
I love thine inland seas, Thy groves of giant trees, Thy rolling plains; Thy rivers’ mighty sweep, Thy mystic canyons deep, Thy mountains wild and steep, All thy domains; Thy silver Eastern strands, Thy
Love in a Look
Let me but feel thy look’s embrace, Transparent, pure, and warm, And I’ll not ask to touch thy face, Or fold thee with mine arm. For in thine eyes a girl doth rise, Arrayed
Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee
Joyful, joyful we adore Thee, God of glory, Lord of love, Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee, hail Thee as the sun above. Melt the clouds of sin and sadness, drive the dark of
Dulcis Memoria
Long, long ago I heard a little song, (Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?) So lowly, slowly wound the tune along, That far into my heart it found the way: A melody consoling
Doors of Daring
The mountains that enfold the vale With walls of granite, steep and high, Invite the fearless foot to scale Their stairway toward the sky. The restless, deep, dividing sea That flows and foams from
They Who Tread the Path of Labor
They who tread the path of labor follow where My feet have trod; They who work without complaining, do the holy will of God; Nevermore thou needest seek me; I am with thee everywhere;
Jeanne d'Arc Returns
1914-1916 What hast thou done, O womanhood of France, Mother and daughter, sister, sweetheart, wife, What hast thou done, amid this fateful strife, To prove the pride of thine inheritance In this fair land
An American in Europe
‘Tis fine to see the Old World, and travel up and down Among the famous palaces and cities of renown, To admire the crumbly castles and the statues of the kings, But now I
Hide and Seek
All the trees are sleeping, all the winds are still, All the flocks of fleecy clouds have wandered past the hill; Through the noonday silence, down the woods of June, Hark, a little hunter’s
War-Music
Break off! Dance no more! Danger is at the door. Music is in arms. To signal war’s alarms. Hark, a sudden trumpet calling Over the hill! Why are you calling, trumpet, calling? What is
Nepenthe
Yes, it was like you to forget, And cancel in the welcome of your smile My deep arrears of debt, And with the putting forth of both your hands To sweep away the bars
Milton
I Lover of beauty, walking on the height Of pure philosophy and tranquil song; Born to behold the visions that belong To those who dwell in melody and light; Milton, thou spirit delicate and
Portrait and Reality
If on the closed curtain of my sight My fancy paints thy portrait far away, I see thee still the same, by night or day; Crossing the crowded street, or moving bright ‘Mid festal
Two Schools
I put my heart to school In the world, where men grow wise, “Go out,” I said, “and learn the rule; Come back when you win a prize.” My heart came back again: “Now
The Window
All night long, by a distant bell, The passing hours were notched On the dark, while her breathing rose and fell, And the spark of life I watched In her face was glowing or
Liberty Enlightening the World
Thou warden of the western gate, above Manhatten Bay, The fogs of doubt that hid thy face are driven clean away: Thine eyes at last look far and clear, thou liftest high thy hand
The Wind of Sorrow
The fire of love was burning, yet so low That in the dark we scarce could see its rays, And in the light of perfect-placid days Nothing but smouldering embers dull and slow. Vainly,
Twilight in the Alps
I love the hour that comes, with dusky hair And dewy feet, along the Alpine dells To lead the cattle forth. A thousand bells Go chiming after her across the fair And flowery uplands,
Love's Reason
For that thy face is fair I love thee not; Nor yet because the light of thy brown eyes Hath gleams of wonder and of glad surprise, Like woodland streams that cross a sunlit
The Red Flower
In the pleasant time of Pentecost, By the little river Kyll, I followed the angler’s winding path Or waded the stream at will, And the friendly fertile German land Lay round me green and
The Bells of Malines
AUGUST 17, 1914 The gabled roofs of old Malines Are russet red and gray and green, And o’er them in the sunset hour Looms, dark and huge, St. Rombold’s tower. High in that rugged
A Mile With Me
O who will walk a mile with me Along life’s merry way? A comrade blithe and full of glee, Who dares to laugh out loud and free, And let his frolic fancy play, Like
Love's Nearness
I think of thee, when golden sunbeams shimmer Across the sea; And when the waves reflect the moon’s pale glimmer, I think of thee. I see thy form, when down the distant highway The
A Lover's Envy
I envy every flower that blows Along the meadow where she goes, And every bird that sings to her, And every breeze that brings to her The fragrance of the rose. I envy every
Late Spring
I Ah, who will tell me, in these leaden days, Why the sweet Spring delays, And where she hides, the dear desire Of every heart that longs For bloom, and fragrance, and the ruby
Sea-Gulls of Manhattan
Children of the elemental mother, Born upon some lonely island shore Where the wrinkled ripples run and whisper, Where the crested billows plunge and roar; Long-winged, tireless roamers and adventurers, Fearless breasters of the
A Noon Song
There are songs for the morning and songs for the night, For sunrise and sunset, the stars and the moon; But who will give praise to the fulness of light, And sing us a
Lights Out
“Lights out” along the land, “Lights out” upon the sea. The night must put her hiding hand O’er peaceful towns where children sleep, And peaceful ships that darkly creep Across the waves, as if
Without Disguise
If I have erred in showing all my heart, And lost your favour by a lack of pride; If standing like a beggar at your side With naked feet, I have forgot the art
Stars and the Soul
To Charles A. Young, Astronomer “Two things,” the wise man said, “fill me with awe: The starry heavens and the moral law.” Nay, add another wonder to thy roll, The living marvel of the
A Prayer for a Mother's Birthday
Lord Jesus, Thou hast known A mother’s love and tender care: And Thou wilt hear, while for my own Mother most dear I make this birthday prayer. Protect her life, I pray, Who gave
National Monuments
Count not the cost of honour to the dead! The tribute that a mighty nation pays To those who loved her well in former days Means more than gratitude for glories fled; For every
The Statue of Sherman by St. Gaudens
This is the soldier brave enough to tell The glory-dazzled world that ‘war is hell’: Lover of peace, he looks beyond the strife, And rides through hell to save his country’s life.
The Mocking-Bird
In mirth he mocks the other birds at noon, Catching the lilt of every easy tune; But when the day departs he sings of love, His own wild song beneath the listening moon.
A Legend of Service
It pleased the Lord of Angels (praise His name!) To hear, one day, report from those who came With pitying sorrow, or exultant joy, To tell of earthly tasks in His employ: For some
Hymn of Joy
To the music of Beethoven’s ninth symphony Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee, God of glory, Lord of love; Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee, Praising Thee their sun above. Melt the clouds of sin
Might and Right
If Might made Right, life were a wild-beasts’ cage; If Right made Might, this were the golden age; But now, until we win the long campaign, Right must gain Might to conquer and to
The Message
Waking from tender sleep, My neighbour’s little child Put out his baby hand to me, Looked in my face, and smiled. It seemed as if he came Home from a happy land, To tell
The Foolish Fir-Tree
A tale that the poet Rückert told To German children, in days of old; Disguised in a random, rollicking rhyme Like a merry mummer of ancient time, And sent, in its English dress, to
America's Prosperity
They tell me thou art rich, my country: gold In glittering flood has poured into thy chest; Thy flocks and herds increase, thy barns are pressed With harvest, and thy stores can hardly hold
God of the Open Air
I Thou who hast made thy dwelling fair With flowers beneath, above with starry lights, And set thine altars everywhere, On mountain heights, In woodlands dim with many a dream, In valleys bright with
Homeward Bound
Home, for my heart still calls me; Home, through the danger zone; Home, whatever befalls me, I will sail again to my own! Wolves of the sea are hiding Closely along the way, Under
Reliance
Not to the swift, the race: Not to the strong, the fight: Not to the righteous, perfect grace: Not to the wise, the light. But often faltering feet Come surest to the goal; And
The Proud Lady
When Stiivoren town was in its prime And queened the Zuyder Zee, Its ships went out to every clime With costly merchantry. A lady dwelt in that rich town, The fairest in all the
Christ of Everywhere
“Christ of the Andes,” Christ of Everywhere, Great lover of the hills, the open air, And patient lover of impatient men Who blindly strive and sin and strive again, Thou Living Word, larger than
The Glory of Ships
The glory of ships is an old, old song, Since the days when the sea-rovers ran In their open boats through the roaring surf, And the spread of the world began; The glory of
Francis Makemie
(Presbyter of Christ in Americas 1683-1708) To thee, plain hero of a rugged race, We bring the meed of praise too long delayed! Thy fearless word and faithful work have made For God’s Republic
Arrival
Across a thousand miles of sea, a hundred leagues of land, Along a path I had not traced and could not understand, I travelled fast and far for this, to take thee by the
Peace
I IN EXCELSIS Two dwellings, Peace, are thine. One is the mountain-height, Uplifted in the loneliness of light Beyond the realm of shadows, fine, And far, and clear, where advent of the night Means
The Empty Quatrain
A flawless cup: how delicate and fine The flowing curve of every jewelled line! Look, turn it up or down, ‘t is perfect still, But holds no drop of life’s heart-warming wine.
To Julia Marlowe
Long had I loved this “Attic shape,” the brede Of marble maidens round this urn divine: But when your golden voice began to read, The empty urn was filled with Chian wine.
A Rondeau of College Rhymes
Our college rhymes, how light they seem, Like little ghosts of love’s young dream That led our boyish hearts away From lectures and from books, to stray By flowery mead and flowing stream! There’s
The White Bees
I LEGEND Long ago Apollo called to Aristæus, Youngest of the shepherds, Saying, “I will make you keeper of my bees.” Golden were the hives, and golden was the honey; Golden, too, the music,
The Sun-Dial at Wells College
The shadow by my finger cast Divides the future from the past: Before it, sleeps the unborn hour In darkness, and beyond thy power: Behind its unreturning line, The vanished hour, no longer thine:
Jeanne d'Arc
The land was broken in despair, The princes quarrelled in the dark, When clear and tranquil, through the troubled air Of selfish minds and wills that did not dare, Your star arose, Jeanne d’Arc.
The Price of Peace
Peace without Justice is a low estate, A coward cringing to an iron Fate! But Peace through Justice is the great ideal, We’ll pay the price of war to make it real.
Stand Fast!
Stand fast, Great Britain! Together England, Scotland, Ireland stand One in the faith that makes a mighty land, True to the bond you gave and will not break And fearless in the fight for
Fire-Fly City
Like a long arrow through the dark the train is darting, Bearing me far away, after a perfect day of love’s delight: Wakeful with all the sad-sweet memories of parting, I lift the narrow
Departure
Oh, why are you shining so bright, big Sun, And why is the garden so gay? Do you know that my days of delight are done, Do you know I am going away? If
The Gentle Traveller
Through many a land your journey ran, And showed the best the world can boast: Now tell me, traveller, if you can, The place that pleased you most.” She laid her hands upon my
Gratitude
“Do you give thanks for this? or that?” No, God be thanked I am not grateful In that cold, calculating way, with blessing ranked As one, two, three, and four, that would be hateful.
Edmund Clarence Stedman
Oh, quick to feel the lightest touch Of beauty or of truth, Rich in the thoughtfulness of age, The hopefulness of youth, The courage of the gentle heart, The wisdom of the pure, The
Love
Let me but love my love without disguise, Nor wear a mask of fashion old or new, Nor wait to speak till I can hear a clue, Nor play a part to shine in
A Child in the Garden
When to the garden of untroubled thought I came of late, and saw the open door, And wished again to enter, and explore The sweet, wild ways with stainless bloom inwrought, And bowers of