'^ 5-2 B CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUiSTD GIVEN IN 1891 BY HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE Cornell University Library PS3523.I41C7 1914 The Congo, and other poems, by Vachel Lin 3 1924 019 358 641 Cornell University Library The original of tliis bool< is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924019358641 THE CONGO AND OTHEE POEMS THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW YORK ■ BOSTON - CHICAGO • DALLAS ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO MACMILLAN & CO., Limited LONDON • BOMBAY - CALCUTTA MELBOURNE THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. TORONTO THE CONGO AND OTHER POEMS BY VACHEL LINDSAY WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY HARRIET MONROE EDITOR OF "pOETEt" Neto gorft THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 1918 All rights reter'ved (1 Copyright, 1913, by Harriet Monroe and by the Independent. Copyright, 1914, by Harriet Monroe, by Margaret C. Anderson, the Little Review, by the Metropolitan, and by the Phillips Publishing Company. COPYKIGHT, 1914, Bt the macmillan compant. Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1914. Reprinted March, October, 1915; October, 1916, J. S. Gushing Co. — Berwick & Smith Co. Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. INTRODUCTION When Poetry, A Magazine of Verse, was first published in Chicago in the autumn of 1912, an IlHnois poet, Vachel Lindsay, was, quite appropriately, one of its first discoveries. It may be not quite without signifi- cance that the issue of January, 1913, which led off with General William Booth Enters into Heaven, immediately followed the number in which the great poet of Bengal, Babindra Nath Tagore, was first presented to the Amer- ican public, and that these two antipodal poets soon ap- peared in person among the earliest visitors to the editor. For the coming together of East and West may prove to be the great event of the approaching era, and if the poetty of the now famous Bengali laureate garners the richest wisdom and highest spirituality of his ancient race, so one may venture to believe that the young Illinois troubadour brings from Lincoln's city an authentic strain of the lyric message of this newer world. It is hardly necessary, perhaps, to mention Mr. Lind- say's loyalty to the people of his place and hour, or the training in sympathy with their aims and ideals which he has achieved through vagabondish wanderings in the Middle West. And we may permit time to decide how far he expresses their emotion. But it may be opportune vi INTRODUCTION to emphasize his plea for poetry as a song art, an art appealing to the ear rather than the eye. The first sec- tion of this volume is especially an effort to restore poetry to its proper place — the audience-chamber, and take it out of the library, the closet. In the library it has be- come, so far as the people are concerned, almost a lost art, and perhaps it can be restored to the people only through a renewal of its appeal to the ear. I am tempted to quote from Mr. Lindsay's explanatory note which accompanied three of these poems when they were first printed in Poetry. He said : " Mr. Yeats asked me recently in Chicago, ' What are we going to do to restore the primitive singing of poetry ? ' I find what Mr. Yeats means by ' the primitive singing of poetry ' in Professor Edward Bliss Reed's new volume on The English Lyric. He says in his chapter on the definition of the lyric : ' With the Greeks " song " was an all-embracing term. It included the crooning of the nurse to the child . . . the half -sung chant of the mower or sailor . . . the formal ode sung by the poet. In all Greek lyrics, even in the choral odes, music was the hand- maid of verse. . . . The poet himself composed the ac- companiment. Euripides was censured because lophon had assisted him in the musical setting of some of his dramas.' Here is pictured a type of Greek work which survives in American vaudeville, where every line may be two-thirds spoken and one-third sung, the entire render- ing, musical and elocutionary, depending upon the im- provising power and sure instinct of the performer. INTRODUCTION vii " I respectfully submit these poems as experiments in which I endeavor to carry this vaudeville form back towards the old Greek precedent of the half-chanted lyric. In this case the one-third of music must be added by the instinct of the reader. He must be lophon. And he can easily be lophon if he brings to bear upon the piece what might be called the Higher Vaudeville imagination. ... ^ "Big general contrasts between the main sections should be the rule of the first attempts at improvising. It is the hope of the writer that after two or three read- ings each line will suggest its own separate touch of melody to the reader who has become accustomed to the cadences. Let him read what he likes read, and sing what he likes sung." It was during this same visit in Chicago, at Poetry's banquet on the evening of March first, 1914, that Mr. Yeats honored Mr. Lindsay by addressing his after- dinner talk primarily to him as "a fellow craftsman," and by saying of General Booth : "This poem is stripped bare of ornament; it has an earnest simplicity, a strange beauty, and you know Bacon said, ' There is no excellent beauty without strangeness.' " This recognition from the distinguished Irish poet tempts"'me to hint at the cosmopolitan aspects of such racily local art as Mr. Lindsay's. The subject is too large for a merely introductory word, but the reader may be invited to reflect upon it. If Mr. Lindsay's poetry should cross the ocean, it would not be the first time that viii INTRODUCTION our most indigenous art has reacted upon the art of older nations. Besides Poe — who, though indigenous in ways too subtle for brief analysis, yet passed all frontiers in his swift, sad flight — the two American artists of widest influence. Whitman and Whistler, have been intensely American in temperament and in the special spiritual quality of their art. If Whistler was the first great artist to accept the modern message in Oriental art, if Whitman was the first great modern poet to discard the limitations of conven- tional form : if both were more free, more individual, than their contemporaries, this was the expression of their Americanism, which may perhaps be defined as a spiritual independence and love of adventure inherited from the pioneers. Foreign artists are usually the first to recog- nize this new tang ; one detects the influence of the great dead poet and dead painter in all modem art which looks forward instead of back ; and their countrymen, our own contemporary poets and painters, often express indirectly, through French influences, a reaction which they are reluctant to confess directly. A lighter phase of this foreign enthusiasm for the American tang is confessed by Signor Marinetti, the Italian "futurist," when in his article on Futurism and the Theatre, in The Mask, he urges the revolutionary value of " American eccentrics," citing the fundamental prim- itive quality in their vaudeville art. This may be an- other statement of Mr. Lindsay's plea for a closer relation between the poet and his audience, for a return INTRODUCTION ix to the healthier open-air conditions, and immediate per- sonal contacts, in the art of the Greeks and of primi- tive nations. Such conditions and contacts may still be found, if the world only knew it, in the wonderful song-dances of the Hopis and others of our aboriginal tribes. They may be found, also, in a measure, in the quick response between artist and audience in modern vaudeville. They are destined to a wider and higher influence ; in fact, the development of that influence, the return to primitive sympathies between artist and audi- ence, which may make possible once more the assertion of primitive creative power, is recognized as the imme- diate movement in modern art. It is a movement strong enough to persist in spite of extravagances and absurdities ; strong enough, it may be hoped, to fulfil its purpose and revitalize the world. It is because Mr. Lindsay's poetry seems to be defi- nitely in that movement that it is, I think, important. HARRIET MONROE. TABLE OF CONTENTS PASS Intboduction. By Hareiet Monbob .T'] - -!_ -Zl • • ' FIRST SECTION Poems intended to be Read Aloud, etc. The Congo 3 The Santa Fe Trail 12 The FntEMEN's Ball 21 The Master or the Dance . . . I . • . .81 The MTSTEEiotrs Cat ^ . . .38 Dirge for a Righteous Kitten . . C. . . .40 Yankee Doodle '? . , . .41 The Black Hawk War op the Artists 44 The Jingo and the Minstrel 47 I Heard Immanuel SiNGiNa 51 SECOND SECTION Incense An Argument 67 A Rhyme about an Electrical ADVERTisiNa Sign ... 60 In Memory op a Child 62 Galahad — Knight 63 The Leaden-eted .J . .65 An Indian Summer Day on the Pbaibie: 66 The Hearth Eternal 67 The Soul op the City 70 zi xii TABLE OF CONTENTS FASB By the Spring at Sunset 73 I Went down into the Desebt . — . . . . .74 Love and Law '76 The Perfect Mabeiaqe 77 Dabung Daughter of Babylon 81 The Amaranth 83 The Alchemist's Petition 85 Two Easter Stanzas 86 The Tbavellee-heabt 89 The North Stab Whispebb to the Blacksmith's Son . . 91 THIRD SECTION A Miscellany called the Christmas Tree This Section is a Chbistmas Tree 95 The Sun Sats his Prayers 96 The Lion 97 An Explanation of the Gbasshoppbb 97 The Little Boy Faibies 97 The Mouse 98 Pabvenu 99 The Spideb and the Ghost or the Fly 99 Cbickets on a Strike 100 How A Little Girl Danced 101 In Peaise of Songs that Die 104 'Factory Windows 105 To Maby Pickfobd 106 Blanch Sweet 108 Sunshine Ill An Apology fob the Bottle Volcanic 113 When Gassy Thompson Struck it Rich 115 TABLE OF CONTENTS xiii Rhymes for Gloriana PAGB The Doll upon the'^Topmost Bough 117 On Suddenly Receiving a Curl 117 On Receiving one op Gloriana's Letters .... 118 In Praise op Gloriana's Remarkable Golden Hair . .119 FOURTH SECTION Twenty Moon Poems Once More — To Gloriana 123 First Section Moon Poems for the Children EUCMD 123 The Haughty Snail-king 124 What the Rattlesnake Said 125 The North Wind's Cooky] 125 Deying their Wings 126 What the Gray- winged Fairy Said 126 Yet Gentle will the Griffin Be . ,- V - '• • • > 127 Second Section The Moon is a Mirror A Sense of Humor 128 On the Garden Wall 129 Written for a Musician 130 The Moon is a Painteb 130 The Encyclopedia 131 What the Miner in the Desert Said 132 xiv TABLE OF CONTENTS PAOB What the CoaI/-hi;ateb Said 1^^ What the Moon Saw ^ 1^^ What Semieamis Said 1^* What the Ghostj op the Gambles Said 134 The Spice-teee 1^^ The Scissors-grinder 1 1^''' Mt Lady in heb White SiiiK Shawl 139 Aladdin and the Jinn 1*** The Stbength of the Lonelt 142 FIFTH SECTION War — 19U Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight 145 A Curse foe Eingb 148 Who Knows? 152 To Buddha 153 The Unpardonable Sin 154 Above the Battle's Front 156 Epilogue. Under the Blessing of Youe Psyche Wings . 158 For permission to reprint some of the poems con- tained in this volume the author is indebted to the courtesy of the editors and publishers of the Metro- politan, Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, the Independent, Tuck's Magazine, Reedy's Mirror, the Little Review, and the American Magazine. FIRST SECTION Poems intended to be read aloud, or chanted. THE CONGO A STUDY OP THE NEGRO RACE I. Theib Basic Savagery Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room. Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable, Sagged and reeled and pounded on the 4 <^ep rMng table, *:,> ****■- " Pounded on the table, Beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broomji Hard as they were able, Boom, boom. Boom, With a silk umbrella and the handle of a broom, Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay. Boom. Then I had religion. Then I had a vision. I could not turn from their revel in deri- sion. Then I saw the Congo, creeping through More deliberate. the black, , , , chanted. Solemnly 3 4 THE CONGO of speed and racket. Cutting through the jboeest with a golden track. Then along that riverbank A thousand miles Tattooed cannibals danced in files ; Then I heard the boom of the blood-lust song And a thigh-bone beating on a tin-pan gong. A rapidly And "Blood" screamed the whistles and PJ*"?"*™'^ the fifes of the warriors, "Blood" screamed the skull-faced, lean mt:3&id(WStors, " Whirl ye the deadly voo-doo rattle, Harry the uplands^ Steal all the cattle, Rattle-rattle, rattle-rattle, Bing. Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay. Boom," A roaring, epic, rag-time tune From the mouth of the Congo To the Mountains of the Moon. Death is an Elephant, Torch-eyed and horrible, Foam-flanked and terrible. Boom, steal the pygmies. With a pkilo- ,ic pause. Shrilly and wi' a heavily ac- . cented meti THE CONGO 5 Boom, kill the Arabs, Boom, kill the white men, Hoo, Hoo, Hoo,^ Listen to the yell of Leopol ' 's ghost Like the wind Burning in Hell for his hanc -maimed host. '" **" "**'"'^- Hear how the demons chuckle and yell Cutting his hands off, down in Hell. Listen to the creepy proclamation. Blown through the lairs of the%rest-nation. Blown past the white-ants' hill of clay. Blown past the marsh where the butter- flies play : — "Be careful what you do. Or Mumbo-Jumbo, God of the Congo, ^'^ «*e o sounds And all of the other Z4°S;"nte Gods of the Congo, ^ery heavy. v«- 1 X 1 Ml 1 1 Light accents Mumbo-Jumbo Will hoo-doo you, very light. Last Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you, '^»6 whispered. Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you." II. Their Ierepbessiblb High Spirits Wild crap-shooters with a whoop and a call Rather shrill , , . , . , . , ,. , „ and high. „^nced the juba m their gambhng-hall xh . ' laughed fit to kill, and shook the town. 6 THE Congo < And guyed the policemen and laughed them down With a boomlay, boomlay, boomlay. Boom. Then I saw the Congo, ckeei-ing through Read exactly as in first section. the black, Cutting through the forest with a golden track. A negro fairyland swung into view. Lay emphasis . . , , . on the delicate A mmstrel river . , ,^ ideas. Keep as Where dreams come true. light-footed as The ebony palace soared on high Through the blossoming trees to the even- ing sky. The inlaid porches and casements shone With gold and ivory and elephant-bone. And the black crowd laughed till their sides were sore At the baboon butler in the agate door, And the well-known tunes of the parrot band That trilled on the bushes of that magic land. A troupe of skull-faced witch-men came With pomposity. Through the agate doorway in suits of flame. THE CONGO 7 Yea, long-tailed coats with a gold-leaf crust And hats that were covered with diamond- dust. And the crowd in the court gave a whoop and a call And danced the juba from wall to wall. But the witch-men suddenly stilled the throng With a great TTT* .1 . Ill 1 i 11 deliberation and With a stern cold glare, and a stern old , ,,. ° gnommess. song : — " Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you. " . . . Just then from the doorway, as fat as shotes. With overwhelm- --- ., , ,. . .,1.1 ing assurance. Came the cake-walk princes in their long ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^ red coats, pomp. Canes with a brilliant lacquer shine. And tall silk hats that were red as wine. And they pranced with their butterfly partners there, .^ W'i*^ growing Coal-black maidens with pearls in their ,,,^^^1^ ^^^^.^ hair, dance^hythm, Boiee-skirts trimmed with the jassamine sweet. And bells on their ank],;;s and little black- feet. 8 THE COKGO And the couples railed at the chant and the frown Of the witch-men lean, and laughed them down. (O rare was the revel, and well worth while That made those glowering witch-men smile.) The cake-walk royalty then began To walk for a cake that was tall as a man To the tune of "Boomlay, boomlay. Boom," While the witch-men laughed, with a sinis- With a touch of ter air negro dialed, and And sang with the scalawags prancing as rapidly as there * possible toward the end. " Walk with care, walk with care, Or Mumbo-Jumbo, God of the Congo, And all of the other Gods of the Congo, Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo ypu. Beware, beware, walk with car< Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, b )om. Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom, Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom, Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay. Boom." THE CONGO Oh rare was the revel, and well worth while Slow philo- That made those glowering witch-men smile. III. The Hope of their Religion A good old negro in the slums of the town Heav}/ bass. _ , , . » , With a literal Preached at a sister for her velvet gown. i^Uation of Howled at a brother for his low-down ways, camp-meeting TT- !• !• 1 1 • I. 1 racket, and His prowung, guzzling, sneak-thiei days. trance. Beat on the Bible till he wore it out Starting the jubilee revival shout. And some had visions, as they stood on chairs, And sang of Jacob, and the golden stairs. And they all repented, a thousand strong From their stupor and savagery and sin and wrong And slammed with their hymn books till they shook the room With "glory, glory, glory," And "Boom, boom. Boom." Then I saw the Congo, creeping through .^"j' ^ "' *f tne first section. THE BLACK Begin with Cutting through the jungle with a ^^'^ "" . .^, power, end vmn GOLDEN TRACK. joy. 10 THE CONGO And the gray sky opened like a new-rent veil And showed the apostles with their coats of mail. In bright white Steele they were seated round And their fire-eyes watched where the Congo wound. And the twelve Apostles, from their thrones on high Thrilled all the forest with their heavenly cry: — "Mumbo-Jumbo will die in the jimgle ; Sung to the Never again will he hoo-doo you, ^""' °f "^'"■*' ten thousand Never again will he hoo-doo you." harps and voices." Then along that river, a thousand miles With gromng The vine-snared trees fell down in files. d^^^i^ion and]oy. Pioneer angels cleared the way For a Congo paradise, for babes at play. For sacred capitals, for temples clean. Gone were the skull-faced witch-men lean. There, where the wild ghost-gods had wailed In a rather A million boats of the angels sailed ^^t '"^, ~ "* delicately as With oars of silver, and prows of blue possible. THE CONGO 11 And silken pennants that the sun shone through. 'Twas a land transfigured, 'twas a new creation. Oh, a singing wind swept the negro nation And on through the backwoods clearing flew: — "Mumbo-Jumbo is dead in the jungle. To the tune of ■KT • -ii 1 1 J "Hark, ten JNever again will he hoo-doo you. ,. , , " thousand harps Never again will he hoo-doo you.J and voices." Redeemed were the forests, the beasts and the men. And only the vulture dared again By the far, lone mountains of the moon To cry, in the silence, the Congo tune : — Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you. Dying dovm " Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you. , ,- Mumbo . . . Jumbo . . . will . . . hoo-doo . . . terrified you. whisper. 12 THE CONGO THE SANTA-FE TEAIL. (A HUMORESQUE) I asked the old Negro, "What is that bird that sings so well?" He answered: "That is the Rachel-Jane." "Hasn't it another name, lark, or thrush, or the like?" "No. Jus' Rachel-Jane." I. In which a Racing Auto comes from the East This is the order of the music of the morn- To he sung • ddicatdy, to an ' improvised First, from the far East comes but a croon- tune. ing. The crooning turns to a sunrise singing. Hark to the caZm-horn, &aZm-horn, psalm- horn. Hark to the /am<-horn, quaint-hoTn, saint- horn. . . . Hark to the pace-horn, c^ase-horn, race-horn. To be sung or And the holy veil of the dawn has gone. ^^"^^ ^"^ Swiftly the brazen car comes on. It burns in the East as the sunrise burns. I see great flashes where the far trail turns. THE CONGO IS Its eyes are lamps like the eyes of dragons. It drinks gasoline from big red flagons. Butting through the delicate mists of the morning. It comes like lightning, goes past roaring. It will hail all the wind-mills, taunting, ringing. Dodge the cyclones. Count the milestones, On through the ranges the prairie-dog tills — Scooting past the cattle on the thousand hills. . . . Ho for the tear-horn, scare-horn, dare-horn. To be read or 771 lu sunginaroUing Ho for the gay-horn, harh-hoxn, hay-horn. j^,^ ^^J^ ^^^ Ho for Kansas, land that restores us deliberation. When houses choke us, and great books bore us! Sunrise Kansas, harvester's Kansas, A million men have found you before v^. II. In which Many Autos pass Westward I want live things in their pride to remain. In an even. I will not kill one grasshopper vain narrative' Though he eats a hole in my sbiit like a manner. door. 14 THE CONGO I let him out, give Mm one chance more. Perhaps, while he gnaws my hat in his whim. Grasshopper lyrics occur to him. I am a tramp by the long trail's border. Given to squalor, rags and disorder. I nap and amble and yawn and look. Write fool-thoughts in my grubby book. Recite to the children, explore at my ease. Work when I work, beg when I please. Give crank-drawings, that make folks stare To the half -grown boys in the sunset glare. And get me a place to sleep in the hay At the end of a live-and-let-live day. I find in the stubble of the new-cut weeds A whisper and a feasting, all one needs : The whisper of the strawberries, white and red Here where the new-cut weeds lie dead. But I would not walk all alone till I die Without some life-drunk horns going by. Up round this apple-earth they come Blasting the whispers of the morning dumb : — THE CONGO 15 Cars in a plain realistic row. And fair dreams fade When the raw horns blow. On each snapping pennant A big black name : — The careering city Whence each car came. They tour from Memphis, Atlanta, Savannah, Like a train- m 11 1 J m 1 caller in a lallanassee and lexarkana. tt ■ r. . Union Depot. They tour from St. Louis, Columbus, Manistee, They tour from Peoria, Davenport, Kan- kakee. Cars from Concord, Niagara, Boston, Cars from Topeka, Emporia, and Austin. Cars from Chicago, Hannibal, Cairo. Cars from Alton, Oswego, Toledo. Cars from Buffalo, Kokomo, Delphi, Cars fom Lodi, Carmi, Loami. Ho for Kansas, land that restores us When houses choke us, and great books bore us ! While I watch the highroad And look at the sky. 16 THE CONGO While I watch the clouds in amazing grandeiu" Roll their legions without rain Over the blistering Kansas plain — While I sit by the milestone And watch the sky, The United States Goes by. Listen to the iron-horns, ripping, racking. To he given Listen to the quack-horns, slack and clack- ^^ ^ iug. sna'p'ping ex- Way down the road, trilling like a toad, Here comes the dice-horn, here comes the Dice-horn, Here comes the swarZ-horn, hrawl-horn, lewd- horn, Followed by the pmde-hom, bleak and squeaking : — (Some of them from Kansas, some of them from Kansas.) Here comes the hod-horn, plod-horn, sod- horn. Nevermore-to-roam-horn, ioam-horn, home- horn. THE CONGO 17 (Some of them from Kansas, some of them from Kansas.) Far away the Rachel-Jane To be read or Not defeated by the horns *""*' 'f!"""^** tn a whwper. Sings amid a hedge of thorns : — "Love and life. Eternal youth — Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet. Dew and glory. Love and truth. Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet." While smoke-black freights on the Louder and louder, faster DOTJBLE-TKACKED KAILEOAD, ji / and faster. Driven as though by the foul-fiend's OX-GOAD, Screaming to the west coast, scream- ing TO the east. Carry off a harvest, bring back a FEAST, Harvesting machinery and harness for THE beast. The hand-cars whiz, and rattle on the rails. The sunlight flashes on the tin dinner-pails. c 18 THE CONGO And then, in an instant. Ye modern men, Behold the procession once again. Listen to the iron-horns, ripping, racking, Listen to the vnse-hom, despersite-to-adviae horn. Listen to the fast-horn, kill-horn, blast- horn. . . . Far away the Rachel- Jane Not defeated by the horns Sings amid a hedge of thorns : — Love and life. Eternal youth. Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet, Dew and glory, Love and truth. Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet. The mufflers open on a score of cars With wonderful thunder. Crack, crack, crack. Crack-crack, crack-crack. Crack-crack-crack, . . . Listen to the gold-horn . . . Old-horn . . . Cold-horn . . . In a rolling bass, vyith increasing deliberation. With a snap- ping explosive- To be sung or read weU-mgh in a t To be brawled in the begirt- ning with a snapping explosiveness, ending in a languorous chant. THE CONGO 19 And all of the tunes, till the night comes down On hay-stack, and ant-hill, and wind-bitten town. Then far in the west, as in the beginning. To be sung to Dim in the distance, sweet in retreating, ^ , .* , "' same whispered Hark to the faint-horn, quaint-horn, saint- tune as the first 1 five lines. horn. Hark to the calm-horn, balm-horn, psalm- horn. . . . They are hunting the goals that they under- This section stand:— *'''™ sonorously, San-Francisco and the brown sea-sand. ending in a My goal is the mystery the beggars win. !!2f!^°"^ I am caught in the web the night-winds spin. The edge of the wheat-ridge speaks to me. I talk with the leaves of the mulberry tree. And now I hear, as I sit all alone In the dusk, by another big Santa-Fe stone, The souls of the tall corn gathering roimd And the gay little souls of the grass in the ground. Listen to the tale the cotton-wood tells. 20 THE CONGO Listen to the wind-mills, singing o'er the wells. Listen to the whistling flutes without price Of myriad prophets out of paradise. Harken to the wonder That the night-air carries. . . . Listen . . . to . . . the . . . whisper . . . Of . . . the . . . prairie . . . fairies Singing o'er the fairy plain : — "Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet. Love and glory. Stars and rain. Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet. . . ." To the same whiejiered tune as the Rachel- Jane song — but very dandy. THE CONGO 21 THE FIREMEN'S BALL Section One "Give the engines room. Give the engines room." Louder, faster The little band-master Whips up the fluting. Hurries up the tooting. He thinks that he stands. The reins in his hands. In the fire-chief's place In the night alarm chase. The cymbals whang. The kettledrums bang : — "Clear the street. Clear the street, Clear the street — Boom, boom. In the evening gloom. In the evening gloom, Give the engines room. Give the engines room. To he read, or chanted, with the heavy buzzing bass of fire-engines pumping. In this pas- sage the reading or chanting is shriller and 22 THE CONGO Lest souls be trapped In a terrible tomb." The sparks and the pine-brands Whirl on high From the black and reeking alleys To the wide red sky. Hear the hot glass crashing, Hear the stone steps hissing. Coal black streams Down the gutters pour. There are cries for help From a far fifth floor. For a longer ladder Hear the fire-chief call. Listen to the music Of the firemen's ball. Listen to the music Of the firemen's ball. " 'Tis the To he read Night °^ chanted in Of doom," Say the ding-dong doom-bells. " Night Of doom," Say the ding-dong doom-bells. a heavy bass. THE CONGO 23 Faster, faster The red flames come. "Hum grum, " say the engines, " Hum grum grum." "Buzz, buzz," Shriller and bays the crowd. " "See, see," Calls the crowd. "Lookout," Yelps the crowd And the high walls fall : — Listen to the music Of the firemen's ball. Listen to the music Of the firemen's ball. " 'Tis the Heavy bass. Night Of doom," Say the ding-dong doom-bells. Night Of doom. Say the ding-dong doom-bells. Whangaranga, whangaranga. Whang, whang, whang. Clang, clang, clangaranga. 24 THE CONGO Clang, clang, clang. Clang — a — ranga — Clang — a — ranga — Clang, Clang, Clang. Listen — to — the — music — Of the firemen's ball — Section Two " Many's the heart that's breaking If we could read them all After the ball is over." (An old song.) Scornfully, gaily The bandmaster sways. Changing the strain That the wild band plays. With a red and royal intoxication, A tangle of sounds And a syncopation. Sweeping and bending From side to side, Master of dreams. With a peacock pride. A lord of the delicate flowers of delight Bati, mneh ilower. To he read or aung slowly and softly, in the manner of luatfid, ininnu- ating name. THE CONGO 25 He drives compunction Back through the night. Dreams he's a soldier Plumed and spurred, And valiant lads Arise at his word. Flaying the sober Thoughts he hates. Driving them back From the dream-town gates. How can the languorous Dancers know The red dreams come When the good dreams go ? "'Tisthe Night Of love," Call the silver joy-bells, " Night Of love," Call the silver joy-bells. "Honey and wine. Honey and wine. Sing low, now, violins. Sing, sing low. To be read or chanted slowly and softly in the manner of lustfvl indnu- aiing musui. 26 THE CONGO Blow gently, wood-wind. Mellow and slow. Like midnight poppies The sweethearts bloom. Their eyes flash power. Their lips are dumb. Faster and faster Their pulses come, Though softer now The drum-beats fall. Honey and wine. Honey and wine. 'Tis the firemen's ball, 'Tis the firemen's ball. " I am slain, " Cries true-love There in the shadow. "And! die," Cries true-love. There laid low. "When the fire-dreams come. The wise dreams go." But his cry is drowned By the proud band-masteh. With a climax of whispered mourning. Suddenly in- terrupting. To be read or sung THE CONGO 27 And now great gongs whang, Sharper, faster, And kettledrums rattle And hide the shame With a swish and a swirk In dead love's name. Red and crimson And scarlet and rose Magical poppies The sweethearts bloom. The scarlet stays When the rose-flush goes. And love lies low In a marble tomb. '"Tisthe Night Of doom," Call the ding-dong doom-bells. " Night Of Doom," Call the ding-dong doom-bells. Hark how the piccolos still make cheer. " 'Tis a moonlight night in the spring of the year." Clangaeanga, clangaeanga, in a heavy bass. First eight lines as harsh as pos- sible. Then gradually musical and Sharply in- terrupting in a very high key. Heavy bass. 28 THE CONGO Clang . . , . CLANG . . . CLANG. Clang . . . A . . . HANGA . . . Clang . . . A . . . RANGA . . . Clang . . . CLANG . . . CLANG . . . Listen . . . TO . . . THE . . . MUSIC . Or . . . THE . . . firemen's ball . . . Listen . . . to . . . the . . . music . . . Or . . . the . . . firemen's . . . ball . , . Section Three In Which, contrary to Artistic Custom, the moral of the piece is placed before the reader. (From the first Khandaka of the Mahavagga : " There Buddha thus addressed his disciples : ' Everything, mendicants, is burning. With what fire is it burning ? I declare unto you it is burning with the fire of passion, with the fire of anger, with the fire of ignorance. It is burning with the anxieties of birth, decay and death, grief, lamentation, suffering and despair. ... A dis- ciple, . . . becoming weary of all that, divests himself of passion. By absence of passion, he is made free.' ") I once knew a teacher. To be intoned Who turned from desire, "^^ ^ , manner of a Who said to the young men priesay aenice. "Wine is a fire." THE CONGO Who said to the merchants : — "Gold is a flame That sears and tortures If you play at the game." I once knew a teacher Who turned from desire Who said to the soldiers, "Hate is a fire." Who said to the statesmen : — "Power is a flame That flays and blisters If you play at the game." I once knew a teacher Who tiu-ned from desire. Who said to the lordly, "Pride is a fire." Who thus warned the revellers : — "Life is a flame. Be cold as the dew Would you win at the game With hearts like the stars. With hearts like the stars." Interrupting i~, very loudly So BEWARE, ... , " for the last So BEWARE, time. 30 THE CONGO So BEWAKE OF THE FIRE. Clear the streets, Boom, boom, Clear the streets, Boom, boom. Give the engines eoom. Give the engines room. Lest souls be trapped In a terrible tomb. Says the swift white horse To the swift black horse : — "There goes the alarm. There goes the alarm. They are hitched, they are off. They are gone in a flash. And they strain at the driver's iron arm." Clang . . . a . . . ranga. . . . clang ... a . . . RANGA. . . . Clang . . . clang . . . clang. . . . Clang . . . a . . . ranga. . . . Clang ... a . . . ranga. . . . Clang . . . clang . . . clang. . . . Clang . . . a . . . ranga. . . . Clang ... a . . . RANGA. . . . Clang . . . clang . , . clano. . . . THE CONGO 31 THE MASTER OP THE DANCE A chant to which it is intended a group of children shall dance and improvise pantomime led by their dancing-teacher. I A master deep-eyed Ere his manhood was ripe, He sang like a thrush, He could play any pipe. So dull in the school That he scarcely could spell, He read but a bit, And he figured not well. A bare-footed fool, Shod only with grace ; Long hair streaming down Round a wind-hardened face ; He smiled like a girl, Or like clear winter skies, A virginal light Making stars of his eyes. 32 THE CONGO In swiftness and poise, A proud child of the deer, A white fawn he was. Yet a fawn without fear. No youth thought him vain. Or made mock of his hair. Or laughed when his ways Were most curiously fair. A mastiff at fight, He could strike to the earth The envious one Who would challenge his worth. However we bowed To the schoolmaster mild. Our spirits went out To the fawn-footed child. His beckoning led Our troop to the brush. We found nothing there But a wind and a hush. He sat by a stone And he looked on the ground. As if in the weeds There was something profound. His pipe seemed to neigh. THE CONGO 33 Then to bleat like a sheep. Then sound like a stream Or a waterfall deep. It whispered strange tales. Human words it spoke not. Told fair things to come, And our marvellous lot If now with fawn-steps Unshod we advanced To the midst of the grove And in reverence danced. We obeyed as he piped Soft grass to young feet. Was a medicine mighty, A remedy meet. Our thin blood awoke, It grew dizzy and wild, Though scarcely a word Moved the lips of a child. Our dance gave allegiance. It set us apart. We tripped a strange measure. Uplifted of heart. 34 THE CONGO u We thought to be proud Of our fawn everywhere. We could hardly see how Simple books were a care. No rule of the school This strange student could tame. He was banished one day. While we quivered with shame. He piped back our love On a moon-silvered night. Enticed us once more To the place of delight. A greeting he sang And it made our blood beat. It tramped upon custom And mocked at defeat. He builded a fire And we tripped in a ring, The embers our books And the fawn our good king. And now we approached All the mysteries rare That shadowed his eyelids THE CONGO 35 And blew through his hair. That spell now was peace The deep strength of the trees. The children of nature We clambered her knees. Our breath and our moods Were in tune with her own, Tremendous her presence. Eternal her throne. The ostracized child Our white foreheads kissed, Our bodies and souls Became lighter than mist. Sweet dresses like snow Our small lady-loves wore. Like moonlight the thoughts That our bosoms upbore. Like a lily the touch Of each cold little hand. The loves of the stars We could now understand, O quivering air ! O the crystalline night ! O pauses of awe And the faces swan-white ! 36 THE CONGO O ferns in the dusk ! O forest-shrined hour ! O earth that sent upward The thrill and the power. To lift us like leaves, A delirious whirl. The masterful boy And the delicate girl ! What child that strange night-time Can ever forget ? His fealty due And his infinite debt To the folly divine. To the exquisite rule Of the perilous master. The fawn-footed fool ? in Now soldiers we seem, And night brings a new thing, A terrible ire. As of thunder awing. A warrior power. That old chivalry stirred. When knights took up arms. THE CONGO 37 As the maidens gave word. The end of our wak. Will be glory untold. When the town like a great Budding rose shall unfold ! Near, nearer that war. And that ecstasy comes. We hear the trees heating Invisible drums. The fields of the night Are starlit above. Our girls are white torches Of conquest and love. No nerve without will. And no breast without breath. We whirl with the planets That never know death I 38 THE CONGO THE MYSTERIOUS CAT A chant for a children's pantomime dance, suggested by a picture painted by George Mather Richards. I saw a proud, mysterious cat, I saw a proud, mysterious cat Too proud to catch a mouse or rat — Mew, mew, mew. But catnip she would eat, and purr. But catnip she would eat, and purr. And goldfish she did much prefer — Mew, mew, mew. I saw a cat — 'twas but a dream, I saw a cat — 'twas but a dream Who scorned the slave that brought her cream — Mew, mew, mew. Unless the slave were dressed in style. Unless the slave were dressed in style THE CONGO 39 And knelt before her all the while — Mew, mew, mew. Did you ever hear of a thing like that ? Did you ever hear of a thing like that ? Did you ever hear of a thing like that ? Oh, what a proud mysterious cat. Oh, what a proud mysterious cat. Oh, what a proud mysterious cat. Mew . . . mew . . . mew. 40 THE CONGO A DIRGE FOR A RIGHTEOUS KITTEN To be intoned, all but the two italicized lines, which are to be spoken in a snappy, matter-of-fact way. Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong. Here lies a kitten good, who kept A kitten's proper place. He stole no pantry eatables. Nor scratched the baby's face. He let the alley-cats alone. He had no yowling vice. His shirt was always laundried well. He freed the house of mice. Until his death he had not caused His little mistress tears. He wore his ribbon prettily. He washed behind his ears. Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong. THE CONGO 41 YANKEE DOODLE This poem is intended as a description of a sort of Blashfield mural painting on the sky. To be sung to the time of Yankee Doodle, yet in a slower, more orotund fashion. It is presumably an exercise for an entertain- ment on the evening of Washington's Birthday. Dawn this morning burned all red Watching them in wonder. There I saw our spangled flag Divide the clouds asunder. Then there followed Washington. Ah, he rode from glory. Cold and mighty as his name And stern as Freedom's story. Unsubdued by burning dawn Led his continentals. Vast they were, and strange to see In gray old regimentals : — Marching still with bleeding feet. Bleeding feet and jesting — 42 THE CONGO Marching from the judgment throne With energy unresting. How their merry quickstep played — Silver, sharp, sonorous. Piercing through with prophecy The demons' rumbling chorus — Behold the ancient powers of sin And slavery before them ! — Sworn to stop the glorious dawn. The pit-black clouds hung o'er them. Plagues that rose to blast the day Fiend and tiger faces. Monsters plotting bloodshed for The patient toiling races. Round the dawn their cannon raged, HurUng bolts of thunder. Yet before our spangled flag Their host was cut asimder. Like a mist they fled away. . . . Ended wrath and roaring. Still our restless soldier-host From East to West went pouring. High beside the sun of noon They bore our banner splendid. THE CONGO 43 All its days of stain and shame And heaviness were ended. Men were swelling now the throng From great and lowly station — Valiant citizens to-day Of every tribe and nation. Not till night their rear-guard came, Down the west went marching. And left behind the sunset-rays In beauty overarching. War-god banners lead us still, Rob, enslave and harry Let us rather choose to-day The flag the angels carry — Flag we love, but brighter far — Soul of it made splendid : Let its days of stain and shame And heaviness be ended. Let its fifes fill all the sky. Redeemed souls marching after. Hills and mountains shake with song, While seas roll on in laughter. 44 THE CONGO THE BLACK HAWK WAR OF THE ARTISTS Written for Lorado Taft's Statue of Black Hawk AT Oregon, Illinois To be given in the manner of the Indian Oration and the Indian War-Cry. Hawk of the Rocks, Yours is our cause to-day. Watching your foes Here in our war array. Young men we stand. Wolves of the West at bay. Power, power for war Comes from these trees divine; Power from the boughs. Boughs where the dew-beads shine. Power from the cones — Yea, from the breath of the pine I Power to restore All that the white hand mars. THE CONGO 45 See the dead east Crushed with the iron cars — Chimneys black Blinding the sun and stars ! Hawk of the pines. Hawk of the plain-winds fleet, You shall be king There in the iron street, Factory and forge Trodden beneath your feet. There will proud trees Grow as they grow by streams. There will proud thoughts Walk as in warrior dreams. There will proud deeds Bloom as when battle gleams ! Warriors of Art, We will hold council there. Hewing in stone Things to the trapper fair. Painting the gray Veils that the spring moons wear, 46 THE CONGO This our revenge. This one tremendous change : Making new towns. Lit with a star-fire strange. Wild as the dawn Gilding the bison-range. All the young men Chanting your cause that day. Red-men, new-made Out of the Saxon clay. Strong and redeemed. Bold in your war-array ! THE CONGO 47 THE JINGO AND THE MINSTREL An Argument foe the Maintenance of Peace and Goodwill with the Japanese People Glossary for the uninstructed and the hasty: Jimmu Tenno, ancestor of all the Japanese Emperors; Nikko, Japan's loveliest shrine ; lyeyasu, her greatest statesman ; Bushido, her code of knighthood; The Forty-seven Ronins, her classic heroes; Nogi, her latest hero; Fuji, her most beautiful mountain. "Now do you know of Avalon The minstrel That sailors call Japan ? She holds as rare a chivalry As ever bled for man. King Arthur sleeps at Nikko hUl Where lyeyasu lies, And there the broad Pendragon flag In deathless splendor flies." answers. "Nay, minstrel, but the great ships come The jingo From out the sunset sea. We cannot greet the souls they bring 48 THE CONGO With welcome high and free. How can the Nippon nondescripts That weird and dreadful band Be aught but what we find them here : — The blasters of the land?" "First race, first men from anywhere To face you, eye to eye. For that do you curse Avalon And raise a hue and cry ? These toilers cannot kiss your hand. Or fawn with hearts bowed down. Be glad for them, and Avalon, And Arthur's ghostly crown. "No doubt your guests, with sage debate In grave things gentlemen Will let your trade and farms alone And turn them back again. But why should brawling braggarts rise With hasty words of shame To drive them back like dogs and awine Who in due honor came ? " The minstrel replies. ' We cannot give them honor, sir. We give them scorn for scorn. The jingo answers. THE CONGO ^ And Rumor steals around the world All white-skinned men to warn Against this sleek silk-merchant here And viler coolie-man And wrath vnthin the courts of war Brews on against Japan ! " "Must Avalon, with hope forlorn. The minstrel Her back against the wall, '*^ ***' Have lived her brilliant life in vain While ruder tribes take all ? Must Arthur stand with Asian Celts, A ghost with spear and crown. Behind the great Pendragon flag And be again cut down ? "Tho Europe's self shall move against High Jimmu Tenno's throne The Forty-seven Ronin Men Will not be found alone. For Percival and Bedivere And Nogi side by side Will stand, — with mourning Merlin there, Tho all go down in pride. 50 THE CONGO "But has the world the envious dream — Ah, such things cannot be, — To tear their fairy-land like silk And toss it in the sea ? Must venom rob the future day The ultimate world-man Of rare Bushido, code of codes. The fair heart of Japan ? "Go, be the guest of Avalon. Believe me, it lies there Behind the mighty gray sea-wall Where heathen bend in prayer : Where peasants lift adoring eyes To Fuji's crown of snow. King Arthur's knights will be your hosts, So cleanse your heart, and go. "And you will find but gardens sweet Prepared beyond the seas. And you will find but gentlefolk Beneath the cherry-trees. So walk you worthy of your Christ Tho church bells do not sound. And weave the bands of brotherhood On Jimmu Tenno's ground." THE CONGO 51 I HEAKD IMMANUEL SINGING (The poem shows the Master, with his work done, singing to free his heart in Heaven.) This poem is intended to be half said, half sung, very softly, to the well-known tune : — "Last night I lay a-sleeping. There came a dream so fair, I stood in Old Jerusalem Beside the temple there, — " etc. Yet this tune is not to be fitted on, arbitrarily. It is here given to suggest the manner of handling rather than determine it. I heard Immanuel singing To be sung. Within his own good lands, I saw him bend above his harp. I watched his wandering hands Lost amid the harp-strings ; Sweet, sweet I heard him play. His wounds were altogether healed. Old things had passed away. 52 THE CONGO All things were new, but music. The blood of David ran Within the Son of David, Our God, the Son of Man. He was ruddy like a shepherd. His bold young face, how fair. Apollo of the silver bow Had not such flowing hair. I saw Immanuel singing To he read very On a tree-girdled hill. ^,^ The glad remembering branches response. Dimly echoed still The grand new song proclaiming The Lamb that had been slain. New-built, the Holy City Gleamed in the murmuring plain. The crowning hours were over. The pageants all were past. Within the many mansions The hosts, grown still at last, In homes of holy mystery Slept long by crooning springs THE CONGO 53 Or waked to peaceful glory, A universe of Kings. He left his people happy. To he sung. He wandered free to sigh Alone in lowly friendship With the green grass and the sky. He murmured ancient music His red heart burned to sing Because his perfect conquest Had grown a weary thing. No chant of gilded triumph — His lonely song was made Of Art's deliberate freedom ; Of minor chords arrayed In soft and shadowy colors That once were radiant flowers : — The Rose of Sharon, bleeding In Olive-shadowed bowers : — And all the other roses In the songs of East and West Of love and war and worshipping. And every shield and crest 54 THE CONGO Of thistle or of lotus Or sacred lily wrought In creeds and psalms and palaces And temples of white thought : — All these he sang, half -smiling To he read very And weepmg as he smiled, ^^^^ ^^ Laughing, talking to his harp s'ponse. As to a new-born child : — As though the arts forgotten But bloomed to prophecy These careless, fearless harp-strings. New-crying in the sky. "When this his hour of sorrow To he sung. For flowers and Arts of men Has passed in ghostly music," I asked my wild heart then — What will he sing to-morrow. What wonder, all his own Alone, set free, rejoicing. With a green hill for his throne ? What will he sing to-morrow What wonder all his own Alone, set free, rejoicing. With a green hill for hi^' throne ? SECOND SECTION INCENSE 55 AN ARGUMENT I. The V