



Produced by Al Haines.


                                 MATINS

                            Francis Sherman


                 [Illustration: Title page decoration]


                                 BOSTON
                            COPELAND AND DAY
                               MDCCCXCVI




                   COPYRIGHT 1896 BY COPELAND AND DAY




                                   TO
                               MY FATHER




                                CONTENTS


At the Gate
A Life
At Matins
Ave
The Foreigner
Cadences
Easter-Song
The Rain
A Memory
Among the Hills
To Summer
The Path
The Last Flower
After Harvest
Heat in September
On the Hillside
Summer Dying
A November Vigil
Nunc Dimittis
Between the Battles
The Quiet Valley
The Kingfisher
The Conqueror
The King's Hostel
Between the Winter and the Spring
The Mother
The Window of Dreams
The Relief of Wet Willows
The Builder
Te Deum Laudamus




AT THE GATE


    Swing open wide, O Gate,
    That I may enter in
    And see what lies in wait
    For me who have been born!
    Her word I only scorn
    Who spake of death and sin.

    I know what is behind
    Your heavy brazen bars;
    I heard it of the wind
    Where I dwelt yesterday:
    The wind that blows alway
    Among the ancient stars.

    Life is the chiefest thing
    The wind brought knowledge of,
    As it passed, murmuring:
    Life, with its infinite strength,
    And undiminished length
    Of years fulfilled with love.

    The wind spake not of sin
    That blows among the stars;
    And so I enter in
    (Swing open wide, O Gate!)
    Fearless of what may wait
    Behind your heavy bars.




A LIFE

                                   I.

    _Let us rise up and live!_  Behold, each thing
    Is ready for the moulding of our hand.
    Long have they all awaited our command;
    None other will they ever own for king.
    Until we come no bird dare try to sing,
    Nor any sea its power may understand;
    No buds are on the trees; in every land
    Year asketh year some tidings of some Spring.
    Yea, it is time,--high time we were awake!
    Simple indeed shall life be unto us.
    What part is ours?--To take what all things give;
    To feel the whole world growing for our sake;
    To have sure knowledge of the marvellous;
    To laugh and love.--_Let us rise up and live!_


                                  II.

    _Let us rule well and long_.  We will build here
    Our city in the pathway of the sun.
    On this side shall this mighty river run;
    Along its course well-laden ships shall steer.
    Beyond, great mountains shall their crests uprear,
    That from their sides our jewels may be won.
    Let all you toil!  Behold, it is well done;
    Under our sway all far things fall and near!
    All time is ours!  _Let us rule long and well!_
    So we have reigned for many a long, long day.
    No change can come....  What hath that slave to tell,
    Who dares to stop us on our royal way?
    "O King, last night within thy garden fell,
    From thine own tree, a rose whose leaves were gray."


                                  III.

    _Let us lie down and sleep!_  All things are still,
    And everywhere doth rest alone seem sweet.
    No more is heard the sound of hurrying feet
    Athrough the land their echoes once did fill.
    Even the wind knows not its ancient will,
    For each ship floats with undisturbed sheet:
    Naught stirs except the Sun, who hastes to greet
    His handmaiden, the utmost western hill.
    Ah, there the glory is!  O west of gold!
    Once seemed our life to us as glad and fair;
    We knew nor pain nor sorrow anywhere!
    O crimson clouds!  O mountains autumn-stoled!
    Across even you long shadows soon must sweep.
    We too have lived.  _Let us lie down and sleep!_


                                  IV.

    _Nay, let us kneel and pray!_  The fault was ours,
    O Lord!  No other ones have sinned as we.
    The Spring was with us and we praised not thee;
    We gave no thanks for Summer's strangest flowers.
    We built us many ships, and mighty towers,
    And held awhile the whole broad world in fee:
    Yea, and it sometime writhed at our decree!
    The stars, the winds,--all they were subject-powers.
    All things we had for slave.  We knew no God;
    We saw no