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                         LOVE’S OLD SWEET SONG

                   A SHEAF OF LATTER-DAY LOVE-POEMS
                      GARNERED FROM MANY SOURCES




                       Books by the Same Author


     THE GARDEN’S STORY, OR PLEASURES AND TRIALS OF AN AMATEUR GARDENER

     THE STORY OF MY HOUSE

     IN GOLD AND SILVER

     THE ROSE. By H. B. Ellwanger. Revised edition, with an Introduction
     by George H. Ellwanger.

     IDYLLISTS OF THE COUNTRY-SIDE

     LOVE’S DEMESNE

     MEDITATIONS ON GOUT

     THE PLEASURES OF THE TABLE




                            [Illustration:

                                LOVE’S
                            OLD SWEET SONG

                              A SHEAF OF

                         LATTER-DAY LOVE-POEMS

                     _Gathered from Many Sources_

                                  BY

                          GEORGE H. ELLWANGER

                              _New York_

                              _Dodd-Mead
                                  and
                               Company_

                                 1903]




                          _Copyright, 1903_,
                      BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY.

                        _All rights reserved._


                          _Copyright, 1896_,
                      BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY,
                         AS “LOVE’S DEMESNE.”



                           University Press:
                JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.




                                  TO
                             THE MEMORY OF

                          GLEESON WHITE, ESQ.

                         In Friendliest Regard




         _ENVOY._


    _Resound, ye strains, attuned by master-fingers,
      That breathe so fondly Love’s consuming fire;
    Some sweet and subtle as a chord that lingers,
      Some grave and plaintive as the heart’s desire._

    _Like June’s gay laughter thro’ the woodlands ringing,
      These hymn the Present’s gladsome roundelay;
    As Autumn grieves when choirs have ceased their singing,
      Those voice their haunting burden, “Well-a-day!”_

    _Yet, past or present, who the power would banish
      That charms or blights, that blesses or that mars:
    To happy lovers, how may Love e’er vanish,--
      To hearts forlorn, how hallowed are his scars!_




         PUBLISHERS’ NOTE.


In this Anthology is included in more convenient form the greater
portion of the poems contained in the two volumes entitled “Love’s
Demesne,” now out of print. The present collection has been carefully
revised by the Compiler, and like its predecessor occupies an entirely
distinct field, most of the selections being otherwise only accessible
in the volumes where they originally appeared, and the major part being
by living lyrists.




         ACKNOWLEDGMENT.


The sincere thanks of the Editor are due, not only to those American
authors who have graciously allowed the reproduction of their poems, but
equally to the numerous British living poets whose graceful verses
appear in the following pages. In but one instance on the part of a
native author, and in but one instance on the part of a publisher, was
permission to include poems refused. With these exceptions the Compiler
has received the most cordial assistance from holders of copyrights. It
becomes a personal pleasure, therefore, to thank the following in
particular for their uniform courtesy, without which many a flowing
measure contained in “Love’s Old Sweet Song” must necessarily have been
omitted: Messrs. HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO., ROBERTS BROS., CHARLES
SCRIBNER’S SONS, MACMILLAN & CO., G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS, STONE & KIMBALL,
J. G. CUPPLES, BELFORD, CLARKE & CO., D. LOTHROP & CO., COPELAND & DAY,
HENRY HOLT & CO., R. WORTHINGTON & CO., WAY & WILLIAMS, LONGMANS, GREEN
& CO. To these and other publishers, to the sonorous choir of the poets
quoted from, and, finally, to Mr. GLEESON WHITE and Mr. _Edmund Clarence
Stedman_, the Compiler tenders his most grateful acknowledgments.




         A PASSING WORD.


Bearing in mind the assertion of Monsieur de Milcourt, that prefaces for
the most part seem only made in order to “impose” upon the reader, a
brief foreword will suffice to explain the scope of the following pages.

As will be apparent at a glance, the selections are all from modern, and
largely from living poets; the dominant chord is lyrical; and in the
general unisance the minor prevails over the major key. No excuse seems
called for in presenting a new anthology; for, given the same theme,
each compiler must of necessity present a different score, subject to
individual taste and preferences. “To apologize for a new anthology is
but one degree less sensible than to prepare it,” pertinently remarks
the editor of _Ballades and Rondeaus_. Such were but another case of
_qui s’excuse, s’accuse_. It may be observed, nevertheless, that the
path of the compiler is far from being strewn with flowers. Indeed, it
has been truly said that Æsop’s old man and boy with the donkey had not
a harder task than the maker of selections and collections of verses.

Of recent years a number of excellent anthologies have been published on
a similar theme. But these deal mainly with the rhythmic fancies of the
elder bards, or in fewer instances, combine the older and the younger
schools. In the present instance the editor has been guided solely by
his own taste or predilections, having had no recourse to other
collections, beyond that of avoiding _excerpta_ too oft repeated; the
aim being so far as possible to include such examples of merit as are
not generally familiar to the average lover of poetry. Whether these be
by well-known authors, or by those who are little known, has not entered
into consideration, the prime object being to present as intrinsically
meritorious a collection, by both British and American modern lyrists,
as is possible within the limits of the space at command.

The writer is not aware of a similar compilation having been previously
attempted, there being few who would care to brave the “omissions” that
must naturally be thrust at one’s door, more especially in the case of
an abstract from the works of living writers. Yet while fault may be
found, perchance, on the score of selection both by those who may be
excluded, as well as by those who are included, the editor of an
anthology should at least be thanked for placing many selections before
the reader that in the ordinary course of things he would miss,--either
through lack of time, or the inability to possess or consult the
multitudinous volumes he would be called upon to peruse.

“The purchasing public for poetry,” says Mr. Lang, “must now consist
chiefly of poets, and they are usually poor.” The anthologist is the
bee, therefore, to extract the honey from the fragrant garland of song,
at the least fatigue to the reader. For every poet has not a hive of
sweets to draw from; and though the blooms be many in the parterre of
poesy, still these require to be plucked with reference not only to
individual beauty, but to general harmony as well. A single line may
sadly mar an otherwise flawless verse, as a single sonnet rendered
immortal the name of Félix Arvers. Many no doubt will miss some
favourites. Of such it may be observed that not a few lovely apostrophes
have been omitted on account of too great length, or, as previously
stated, owing to their being familiar to the great majority of readers.
Some poems, moreover, beautiful in themselves, have not been included,
despite their intrinsic merits, because they seemed to be out of accord
with the prevailing key, as in the case of numerous lyrics approaching
the form of so-termed _Vers de Société_. Still others, and many of these
extremely beautiful amatory poems, somewhat free in _motif_ or
treatment, have been excluded as not fulfilling the precise requirements
of the present collection; these were more appropriate grouped in a
volume by themselves.

A few translations only have been admitted; the satisfactory translation
of verse being an art by itself, demanding special qualifications
possessed only by the few. But though it is not often that a rendition
does not suffer when compared with its original, it is equally true that
in some hands a transcription may equal if not surpass its prototype.
Witness, for example, Mr. Andrew Lang’s graceful stanzas entitled “An
Old Tune,” adapted from Gérard de Nerval’s dreamy _Fantaisie_, and which
although very closely rendered fully equal the original in colour and
fragrance, while surpassing it in melodiousness and rhythm. Nearly as
much might be said of Mr. Edmund Gosse’s version of Théophile de Viau’s
lovely sonnet, _Au moins ay-ie songé que ie vous ay baisée_, as also of
the late Thomas Ashe’s phrasing of _Ma vie a son secret, mon âme a son
mystère_, which has been so variously rendered by various translators.

With Waller’s “Go, lovely rose,” Herrick’s “Gather ye roses,” Ford’s
“There is a lady sweet and kind,” and many another harmonious measure of
Lily, Lodge, Lovelace, Campion, Carew, and the rest of them ringing in
our ears