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Table of contents

• Catalog Record: Leaves from a middy's log | HathiTrust Digital Library
• the wayfaring wanderer | Tumblr
• The Wayfarer : Leaves From a Wanderer's Log
• Essays Nature Thoughts

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Skip to content. Download your thank you -cards right here: Download. Join my email list By clicking submit, you agree to share your email address with the site owner and Mailchimp to receive marketing, updates, and other emails from the site owner. You're on the list. There was an error and we couldn't process your subscription. Please reload the page and try again. Share this: Tweet. Like this: Like Loading Perhaps when all the world is bare And cruel winter holds the land, The Love that finds no place to hide Will run and catch my hand.

I shall not care to have him then, I shall be bitter and a-cold -- It grows too late for frolicking When all the world is old. Then little hiding Love, come forth, Come forth before the autumn goes, And let us seek thro' ruined paths The garden's last red rose. For tho' I know he loves me, To-night my heart is sad; His kiss was not so wonderful As all the dreams I had. November T HE world is tired, the year is old, The little leaves are glad to die, The wind goes shivering with cold Among the rushes dry. Our love is dying like the grass, And we who kissed grow coldly kind, Half glad to see our poor love pass Like leaves along the wind.

But Love that is so bitter Hath put within her heart A longing for the scornful knight Who silent stands apart. And tho' the others praise and plead, She maketh no reply, Yet for a single word from him, I ween that she would die. Alas, the wind has made me wise, Over my naked soul it blew, -- There is no peace for me on earth Even with you. A Winter Night M Y window-pane is starred with frost, The world is bitter cold to-night, The moon is cruel, and the wind Is like a two-edged sword to smite.

God pity all the homeless ones, The beggars pacing to and fro. God pity all the poor to-night Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow. My room is like a bit of June, Warm and close-curtained fold on fold, But somewhere, like a homeless child, My heart is crying in the cold. The Metropolian Tower W E walked together in the dusk To watch the tower grow dimly white, And saw it lift against the sky Its flower of amber light.

You talked of half a hundred things, I kept each little word you said; And when at last the hour was full, I saw the light turn red. You did not know the time had come, You did not see the sudden flower, Nor know that in my heart Love's birth Was reckoned from that hour. Gramercy Park For W. T HE little park was filled with peace, The walks were carpeted with snow, But every iron gate was locked. Lest if we entered, peace would go. We circled it a dozen times, The wind was blowing from the sea, I only felt your restless eyes Whose love was like a cloak for me.

Oh heavy gates that fate has locked To bar the joy we may not win, Peace would go out forevermore If we should dare to enter in.

The ancient centuries came back To cover us a moment's space, And thro' the dome the light was glad Because it shone upon your face. Ah, not from Rome but farther still, Beyond sun-smitten Salamis, The moment took us, till you stooped To find the present with a kiss. Coney Island W HY did you bring me here? The sand is white with sno, Over the wooden domes The winter sea-winds blow -- There is no shelter near, Come, let us go.

With foam of icy lace The sea creeps up the sand, The wind is like a hand That strikes us in the face. Doors that June set a-swing Are bolted long ago; We try them uselessly -- Alas, there cannot be For us a second spring; Come, let us go. I leaned to catch the words he said That were light as a snowflake falling; Ah well that he never leaned to hear The words my heart was calling. And on we walked and on we walked Past the fiery lights of the picture shows -- Where the girls with thirsty eyes go by On the errand each man knows.

And on we walked and on we walked, At the door at last we said good-bye; I knew by his smile he had not heard My heart's unuttered cry. With the man I love who loves me not I walked in the street-lamps' flare -- But oh, the girls who can ask for love In the lights of Union Square. There is no sign of leaf or bud, A hush is over everything -- Silent as women wait for love, The world is waiting for the spring.

I hope that when he smiles at me He does not guess my joy and pain, For if he did, he is too kind To ever look my way again. II I have a secret in my heart No ears have ever heard, And still it sings there day by day Most like a caged bird.

And when it beats against the bars, I do not set it free, For I am happier to know It only sings for me. III I wrote his name along the beach, I love the letters so. Far up it seemed and out of reach, For still the tide was low. But oh, the sea came creeping up, And washed the name away, And on the sand where it had been A bit of sea-grass lay. A bit of sea-grass on the sand, Dropped from a mermaid's hair -- Ah, had she come to kiss his name And leave a token there? I am like a cowslip turning Toward the sky, Where a planet's golden burning Breaks the cowslip's heart with yearning, What am I that he should love me, What am I?

V O dreams that flock about my sleep, I pray you bring my love to me, And let me think I hear his voice Again ring free. And if you care to please me well, And live to-morrow in my mind, Let him who was so cold before, To-night seem kind.

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VI I plucked a daisy in the fields, And there beneath the sun I let its silver petals fall One after one. I said, "He loves me, loves me not," And oh, my heart beat fast, The flower was kind, it let me say "He loves me," last. I kissed the little leafless stem, But oh, my poor heart knew The words the flower had said to me, They were not true. But if he loves me truly, He'll find it hidden deep, As dawn gleams red thro' chilly clouds To eyes awaked from sleep. VIII The world is cold and gray and wet, And I am heavy-hearted, yet When I am home and look to see The place my letters wait for me, If I should find one letter there, I think I should not greatly care If it were rainy or were fair, For all the world would suddenly Seem like a festival to me.

Essays Nature Thoughts

IX I hid three words within my heart, That longed to fly to him, At dawn they woke me with a start, They sang till day was dim. X Across the twilight's violet His curtained window glimmers gold; Oh happy light that round my love Can fold. Oh happy book within his hand, Oh happy page he glorifies, Oh happy little word beneath His eyes. But oh, thrice happy, happy I Who love him more than songs can tell, For in the heaven of his heart I dwell. On to the next poem.