PS :j:rn i\ N V T n ? O Z ' 7 . ■ J BOI5 BIRD Class T^^50_'3 Book '^7 5^ 4- CoDvri^htN" / 1 / "7 COEW^IGHT DEPOSm THE RETURN AND OTHER POEMS BY REMSEN DU BOIS BIRD SAN FRANCISCO THE PERIODICAL PRESS MDCCCCXIX COPYRIGHT 1 91 9 BY REMSEN DU BOIS BIRD DEC 22 1919 PRINTED BY BRUCE BROUGH 509 SANSOME STREET SAN FRANCISCO CALIFORNIA (^)0!.A5610 90 /VV« I TO MY WIFE THESE BITS OF VERSE CAME TO ME IN A YEAR OF WANDERING IN A CER- TAIN SORT OF WAR SERVICE AND IN THE MONTHS WHICH HAVE FOL- LOWED SINCE THE RETURN. I AM HAVING THEM PUBLISHED WITH THE HOPE THAT THEY MAY NOT BE WITH- OUT INTEREST FOR OTHERS, AND THAT I MAY HAVE THE SATISFACTION WHICH ONE ENJOYS, IN SEEING ONe's POEMS ■ GATHERED TOGETHER AND NICELY SET FORTH IN TYPE. CONTENTS PAGE A Prayer TO Her . . , ' ii The Hills 13 To THE President 14 To THE Kaiser 15 To Chaplain Peshall 16 The War Goes On 17 The Czechs AND the Poles 18 Peace 19 Last Night I Dreamed 20 ToS.H 21 ToM.L 22 In Every Heart 23 A Highroad 24 The Song OF the Climber 26 Evening AT BoLiNAS 27 Thoughts of a Half-Witted Boy 28 Taking THE Census 29 The Return 30 The Bomb Thrower 32 Youth 34 Thoughts of a Manicurist 35 The Influenza AT CoRFOu 36 The Men OF THE Navy 40 Paris IN 1918 45 San Marco 50 Versailles 54 Chlotilde 56 The Union Jack 58 CONTENTS PAGE Our Service Flag 59 From THE Dead 60 Peace! . . 6^ Sunset 64 A Hymn OF Assurance 65 Spring Song OF A Lover OF JuDAH 66 Words 67 Vachel Lindsay 70 A Rose 72 The Magnate 73 A Prayer FOR THE Country 79 THE RETURN THE RETURN A BOOK OF VERSE A PRAYER FOR HER Thou gavest me, O my Father, Many things; Life, and the zest of living. Home, friends, and faith in Thee, Thy Son, who showed Thee as Thou art, To us, here in a world, where Sin and self, struggle in combat With the life He lived And showed to men. Thou gavest these. Thou gavest also Her, In whom are gathered all That's best of home, friends, faith And that great love, that lingers. That lifts the heart, the whole of life To Thee. I pray for Her. [II] THE RETURN May She be kept by Thee in health, And strength And constantly assured That all is well, That Thou, the Maker, Guidest all aright. Bless Her service, the things She makes, Her great heart, sad within. But ever cheerful to the world. Keep Her confidant, courageous. And at the end of all the strife, May the life lived here, — If Thou permittest the return, — Give me the right, To be with Her and care for Her Throughout the years, — and may those years Bring Joy, Peace, and Love, Through Christ, whose love. Her love makes better known. Amen. 12] A BOOK OF VERSE THE HILLS I will lift up mine eyes. Far up to the hills, The hills where the winds are playing. I will lift up mine eyes. As my heart upfills With the words that the hills are saying, I will lift up mine eyes. Far up to the hills. The hills where the clouds are straying. I will lift up mine eyes. As my spirit thrills, And I gaze on the hills in praying. I will lift up mine eyes, Far up to the hills. The hills for a heart outfraying. I will lift up mine eyes To a God who wills His Peace and to none delaying! 13 THE RETURN TO THE PRESIDENT We said, "The reef is here, Pilot, beware! Mark how its intermittent black stands bold Against the sky." But ere we spoke, behold We saw that you had fixed our course with care And cleared the treach'rous rocks and hidden bar. We cried again, "See yonder ships ablaze! All speed to save!" And in the morning haze We seemed to lag. Yet you had seen afar. Our Pilot, o'er a wind-tossed wild sea. How sure we sailed through darkness unto light. You brought us safe, though fearful was the night. To waters calm, within the sheltered lea. We talked. You held the wheel. You made the way. You saved the men at sea. And yon's the bay! [14 A BOOK OF VERSE TO THE KAISER Not many years ago, I stood with friends With whom I lived, near Tempelhoferfeld, — Two comrades who believed in you and held You king of all their thoughts. We stood where ends The Linden, where the broad Lustgarten starts. And in the surging throng we craned our heads To see you march. Behind one of the reds Grumbled and swore, but in our student hearts We highly honored you. 'Twas Sedan Day And it was stated in the press you would With your six sons parade, and so we stood To watch you pass in all your glad array. My friends are dead ! They died in France for you ! What death you've caused, you and your brutal crew! [151 THE RETURN TO CHAPLAIN PESHALL The Resurrection was your theme to-day, And all the evidence you marshalled out, To prove to us, beyond the slightest doubt, That to a risen Christ we kneel and pray, — To one who gained o'er death the victory And won, for those who love, immortal life With God above. How sweet amid the strife To be so sure, to have such certainty. Yet as you talked, I looked at you and thought "How fine his face! How kind his eyes! And when He speaks, though much there is to doubt, the men Believe. They like him well, for he has sought To be their friend, to fill his Lord's commands." The Christ has risen ? Yes, in you He stands ! i6 A BOOK OF VERSE THE WAR GOES ON The War goes on, O Rome! Yet thou dost stand Upon thy hill, within thy sheltered walls, And hearest not the cries on every hand For judgment true! Thy King, our Master, calls From battlefield. 'Tis there he now is found. With his strong sons, who there avenge the Right, Who freely pour upon the open ground Their precious blood, for Him, for Truth, and Light. Dost thou not hear, O Rome ? He calls to thee. Before the end is here, the conflict's won To take thy place with these who make men free. To speak his word, and say, "This evil shun!" The Christ, He died for Truth, yet thou dost wait. Thou Judge, judge now, before it is too late! [17 THE RETURN THE CZECHS AND THE POLES The Czechian island, many years submerged, Beneath the flood of Austrian control. Beneath the Hapsburg tides, which backward roll These later days, — by inward forces urged By outward leverage applied, — has surged Now high above, with fast enlarging shoal. The mountains clear, the valleys dry, the whole From poisoned waters and from stagnant purged. And there bevond from that same ocean floor Another land has risen well to view, Poland, the torn by many a hostile power, The freed by friends whose blood has paid her score. And some rejoice, and some give thanks, — a few, And some proceed to kill in Freedom's hour. [i8] A BOOK OF VERSE PEACE The evening milk's all in, the horses fed, The sun's gone down beyond the forest hill Above the gentle river's bend, where will Our work begin at dawn. Hark! from the bed. The children's quiet breathing. Sweet, the sound! The great black coals upon the hearth glow bright Above. The lamp sheds clear and soft its light About the simple living room. Our hound Before the open fire sleeps and dreams, The women sit and sew, and I read by The light, our latest News and hold it high To see the print within the lamp's sure gleam. How much our paper fills its space with plate ! But then, there's been so httle news of late! [19] THE RETURN LAST NIGHT I DREAMED Last night I dreamed of thee ! The heart and mind In slumber by the will are uncontrolled. And thoughts, which in the waking hours, I hold Enchained, and deep emotions, which I bind. As in a dungeon dark, unloosed I find By sleep, which gently doth the will enfold And leaves the heart and mind to be as bold As laughing truants from the school's dull grind. Last night I dreamed of thee! I kissed the strands Of perfumed hair the wind blew 'gainst my face, And in the lambent light of moon I dared Thy wine red lips to press, and with my hands Thy loveliness to frame. There was no trace Of pain as there in sleep my love stood bared! 20 ] A BOOK OF VERSE TO S. H. All Spring, with its pure charms — and new, is hers, Whose cheeks are flushed with rich red wine of youth, Whose voice is clear — a silver bell, forsooth, — And when she speaks, its tuneful sound, bestirs The heart to rapturous regard, — and when She draws but near, so lovely is her air, And full of grace, her form, — bewitching fair — She doth enchant and hold the gaze of men. Yet from this maiden charming as the fawn, To you I turn, whose loveliness excels. Whose beauty is as full as Summer's rose Of Nature's art — the Day for which the Dawn Sweeps far the Night. On thy fair self there dwells Content my gaze in lingering repose. [21] THE RETURN TO M. L. You asked me, what is there of poetry In life for you, whose eighth full lustrum lies Within the past. The clear red glow which flies Into the maiden's cheek, to chivalry Provokes. You say, you have it not, — and there Are lines about the eyes, and that soft brown And lustrous hair hath turned to grey — a crown No more, above a face which once was fair! 'Tis so you speak — but far it is from truth. A loveliness there is, that fills the heart With warmth, that's yours, that charms e'en more to-day Than other graces in the days of youth. Doth Love grow old ? Hath Motherhood no Art ? Can Beauty in the faithful life e'er fade away? 22 ] A BOOK OF VERSE IN EVERY HEART In every heart, there is a flame. The blaze Sometimes is clear, sometimes it sputters blue Sometimes 'tis all snuffed out, — and sad the few Who have it not, who in their later days Must trudge along, without its inner light, - Without the gladness which it brings a soul Upon the way, there striving for the goal Which its pure gleam doth ever hold in sight. This inner light, is just the joy to be. To overcome and conquer in the strife, To give, to serve all others in this life With whom one walks. The power which feeds for me This flame, is that clear oil, which a friend, By his sure faith, pours on, e'en to the end. 23 THE RETURN A HIGHROAD IN NORTHERN ITALY WHERE THE REFUGEES TRUDGED WEARILY ALONG It's a broad road, The highroad, Triple flanked with tall trees. It's a straight road, A glad road, How soft and sweet the breeze! It's an old road. The highroad Ever crossed at the ridge. It's a tried road A proved road At every Roman bridge. It's a sure road The highroad Leading down from the hills. It's a true road A kind road To everyone who wills. 24] A BOOK OF VERSE It's a sad road The highroad See how deep are its ruts. It's a sad road, A hard road. OGod! How sorrow cuts ! 25] THE RETURN THE SONG OF THE CLIMBER In Firenze, I have found her, I have found her in Firenze. In Firenze, I have found the lass I love, And as I climb the mountain, Bent beneath the heavy burden Of this gun upon my shoulder, My heart it goes on beating. Beating faster, faster beating, Ever with the strain a-leaping. In Firenze, I have found her. I have found her in Firenze. O Maria! what a lovely thing she is! [26] A BOOK OF VERSE EVENING AT BOLINAS I know where clouds are hanging in the sky, Grey clouds, through which the graceful sea mews fly I know where emerald valleys calmly rest Beneath gold hills whose summits last are blessed, As from our mild mist-spread sheltered bay, The night so gently deprehends the day. 'Tis there I long to be with you, to roam On mesa high and watch the sudden foam, Which lights for us the great grey stretch of sea And gladdens you — and saddens you and me. 27 THE RETURN THOUGHTS OF A HALF-WITTED BOY IN THE SUMMERTIME They who live in the heat of the city Swelter and sweat and Oh what a pity. They who move to the hills in the summer Were never close friends of the grocer and plumber. They who have sugar and sweets and canned jellies Could never agree with men of lean bellies. I've seen the children all naked and dirty Washed by the hydrant to the number of thirty. I've seen a servant girl hanging up clothes And I've seen a passer-by stick up her nose. Oh what a glorious land we are living in. Why are the workers constantly giving in? My brother's con is bad. Gee! but he coughs a lot. I wouldn't mind it much if 'tweren't so awful hot. Jim is the cop who comes when the lights are dim. He sure is good to me, but my pop's afraid of him. Oh I'm so proud of this my beloved land Where all are so kind and give me the helping hand, Where no one's in want and all have enough to eat Of butter and milk, of eggs and of sausage meat. At least all except the woman in forty-two. Who can t get no work and her rent is long overdue! I28I A BOOK OF VERSE TAKING THE CENSUS In this house there live Twelve women. Their names ? Josie, Rosie, Phillis And Jane — and, Oh, put down any old names Any old names'd do. Last names? Hell! They ain't got no last names! Twelve of God's children Defaced and defamed, Desired, deserted Drifting along, Swept by life's current Of tinsel and song. Twelve sisters of Mary, The Mother of Mercy The Mother of Jesus, Whose love is His rod. Twelve nameless Forsaken Children of God! [29] THE RETURN THE RETURN Take it from me, Bo ! This town ain't got no character! Look at that ugly red station, And the cinders around it And sand. Look at the false fronts On them stores, And the restaurants There along side, — Jimmie's Fly Trap ! Johnnie's New Grill! Ain't they — all of 'em — fierce? Look at that church Up the road, With its windows All broken and dirty! And its the same Down at Vaughan, And Sims, and Crosses 30 A BOOK OF VERSE And Derby, — And the whole country Through which we come! And here's where we live ! Ain't it just one hell of a place, For you and me, Buddy, Who've seen The Cathedral at Chartres, Versailles and the Louvre, And the bridges over the Seine ! j'l THE RETURN THE BOMB THROWER She got eleven cents for a dozen, Checked and turned in, And if she worked. Without stop Without raising her head She could clean up three dozen In an hour, And if she removed the safety, — Hazardous, No employer's liability there, — The little wheel worked quietly But how it could mangle And tear the soft flesh, — Witness Agnes and Mag and Fannie, Poor kids ! — But if she removed it. She could do a dozen more. And the rent was always a month overdue, — And butter and eggs and milk for us youngsters- She was determined we'd have them, — The damn stock brokers Kept ever climbing. 32 A BOOK OF VERSE So she worked by the piece, Fourteen years, And then the crash came And it wrecked her And killed her. And I her son worked on the wagons. You smooth face oily bunkshooter Get away from my window! What the hell you think this is anyway A menagerie? Yes, I threw the bomb. Damn fool I know. But my God! How I hate The guys that employ us ! [33 THE RETURN YOUTH! Haven't I studied chemistry- Two years ? It's only required one, But I elected it, See! I guess I know something About atoms and molecules Electrons and Qualitative analysis! I guess I know Everything's reducible To centers of force And controllable By unchangeable laws! I guess I know A thing or two! Don't talk tome About miracles, or scripture, Or God! 34 A BOOK OF VERSE THOUGHTS OF A MANICURIST I clean, trim, And beautify Finger nails, All day long! How does that appeal to you As a vocation? Glistening pearls Set in pale rubies On tapering fingers Of milk white hands, — Little hands Slim soft hands, Knowing no work. Rugged, precise Square, well-kept nails — Other nails Of languid ladies And colorless goops! Queer I never clean any nails, Like mother's! [35I THE RETURN THE INFLUENZA AT CORFOU, GREECE Here on this sunkissed sacred knoll, With the kindly gnarled and hoary olive trees Guarding us round, — Serene Ben Ezras, watching in sympathy. As here we mourn, — We gather once more To lay away our dead, To honor our friends Whose spirits have sped Out of the light Into the darkness Into the night And into the full pure light Of perfect day again. Here we gather 'Neath these kindly olive boughs And yonder cypress trees of hope. On this far island By many benedictions overbowed, An emerald flashing its shades of green Dropped in a sapphire ocean, — To honor our rich and blessed dead. 36 A BOOK OF VERSE These are our friends Who have fallen for us, Fallen for the land Of love and dreams And for a cause which is Righteous and just. Not by the speeding bullets From a mitrailleuse, Were they called to leave us here, Not by the bursting shell Spreading its pieces to their slaughter, Nor by the thrust of an offender In the light of rocket And the clear sure glare of star. But by the certain force of stalking dread disease, Coming with flame destroying torch Over the verdant fields And no one there to question For the forts were broken down And the defenders Almost dead. 37 THE RETURN These our friends Have fallen, before the hosts Of dread disease Because the strength of life Had gone in gallant service In defending right and truth, Against the dragon demons of the sea. Let us here lay their bodies 'Neath these kindly trees, to rest. Their spirits are not here For they have risen To those homes which Christ For them has well prepared. Beneath the olive trees, He prayed for us Beneath the olive trees He shed his blood for us And from the olive trees As others watched He rose on high. 38 A BOOK OF VERSE To Him we commit our dead. With Him we leave our dead With Him who died and rose again And said The Love of man is greatest When it gives, When it gives itself For those who are its friends And giving makes the life here Cease to be. 39 THE RETURN THE MEN OF THE NAVY Quietly they work upon the mighty deep. The enemy lurks in the waters below, The enemy trains his gun from the shore, The enemy flies far above in the sky. The enemy plants in the channel his mines Where the path is sure Where the go uki is narrow And the rocks are high. Quietly they work upon the mighty deep. Little fishing boats Raise their sails And leave the friendly wall, Transports, blotched with many a color Carry their precious loads of men. And heavy freighters, laden with cargoes. Of oil and powder, Of steel and lumber. Of food and clothes, Of guns and high explosives Sail steadily on and on. [40] A BOOK OF VERSE Quietly they work upon the mighty deep. The men on battleships Cruisers Destroyers Minesweepers, sea-planes, submarines, Transports, colliers, trawlers, Tug-boats, Chasers, And private yachts, once trim and white, Ships men built for pleasure. But now In the service Tried and proved Worthy convoyers. Quietly they work upon the mighty deep. Sweeping up mines, stopping up ports Dropping depth charges Convoying merchantmen. Transports and freighters Loading great vessels With coal at sea. 41 THE RETURN Saving men from boats ablaze Picking up survivors Passing many a weary hour Doing many a noble deed With never a word With never a thought Of the hazard. Quietly they work upon the mighty deep. Down in the bellies of many ships They shovel coal — The stokers. Others high in cro'nests gaze afar For periscopes against the waves For jutting rocks and buoys For lighthouses and mines And for the great blue stretch Of distant land. Others wash down decks And polish brass And cook the food And weary, hold the wheel. [42] A BOOK OF VERSE Others listen for the click The click, amid the whir, The click that gives command That calls far out upon the waters "We need your help !" Quietly they work upon the mighty deep. Officers and crew Men, who sleep A hundred In quarters made for ten With portholes closed With air, like poison gas School boys Clerks Musicians And men Whose care was play. Quietly they work upon the mighty deep. Let us here praise them Their quiet service Their humility 43 THE RETURN Their steadfastness Their cheerfulness Their efficiency Their achievement Their patriotism Their heroism (Of which they never speak) Let us here praise them These men ! The men of the Navy! The men of Our Navy! Our Navy, Our Own Navy ! Our Navy most glorious. Permission of The Outlook Co. [44] A BOOK OF VERSE PARIS IN THE SPRING OF 191 8 Paris is Beautiful ! Beautiful As a Song As a Woman As a Young Girl, Dancing in the moonlight On the soft cool grass, Amid an odor Of hyacinths And roses, With music And singing As incense, Coming From beyond the trees. But War is in the Northland, And here in Paris, so Beauriful, Men gather and ponder. Planning Lamenting Believing Rejoicing [45] THE RETURN And all, amid lovely flowers And under heavy shades And on roads, as smooth as glass, That wind along and over A River That shines As silver And gladdens, the passer-by. Here men talk of War And wounded ones. With bandaged heads And empty sleeves And tired eyes Sit idly by And dream And over all, the sky is blue And in the trees, birds chatter And sing their notes Now shrill, Now pure. So is Paris! So is she Amid the War, War the Terrible, War the Wanton, 46 A BOOK OF VERSE War the Destroyer, And yet, by God and Sacrifice and Daring, War the Redeemer And the Builder War that will bring New Songs to Paris, and a Beauty In the Life of Man In the Hearts of those Who suffer Such as the world Has never dreamed could be! Paris, shall be a Symbol, A Symbol of Beauty, A Symbol of Freedom, of Faith, A Symbol of Soul Achievement, A Symbol of Life, given up in sacrifice, By young and old, By Women, Strong of heart With clear eyes glistening. By little children, Laughing in the courtyard, And Warm-eyed maidens With flowers in their hair, 47 THE RETURN And all For Truth And Right And Light. And men shall worship 'Neath her trees And by her River And amid the odors Of her fragrant flowers. They shall worship there Love incarnate, And the Light of Life And God, And they shall find In her homes And on her streets And in the places, where are gathered. Her sons and daughters, Happiness And Peace And the Master Builder. [48] A BOOK OF VERSE 'Tis a Vision It will surely come. Wait for it! It may tarry. But wait for it. It will surely come To Paris, Paris, the Beautiful, Beautiful As a Song As a Woman As a Young Girl Dancing in the Moonlight On the soft cool grass. Permission of The Continent [49 THE RETURN SAN MARCO The convent of San Marco, 'Tis a lovely place! 'Tis like a pool of water Fresh and sweet and cool And covered o'er with moss. Ferns are growing there And flowers of a fragrant lily sort, And now and then A child happens by And stooping by the water's edge. Quenches there its thirst. And round the pool There are great trees shading the water And reflecting in its calm unrippled surface Their graceful forms. And there's green sward about And up above and through the trees The clear blue perfect sky, Lying on one's back. Can well be seen. And there beyond the shaded grove and pool, There is a road, The noises can be heard, [50] A BOOK OF VERSE But not as noise, more as a whir Of busy life below, And there beyond the road A village lies, And now and then, The hammer on the anvil can be heard, And the sound of children's voices In their play. And such a wrangle as one hears Upon a village street, — And as one lies there by the pool The many sounds come up into the quiet grove As something strangely sweet! So is San Marco's Such a pool. Such a calm and lovely place Such a grove Beneath the clearly blue perfect sky Which spread above The busy, toiling, wrangling, happy life ! But in this world beyond San Marco's There is War! War in a world where flowers Are uprooted t5il THE RETURN And trees are thrown down, And waters, fresh and cool. Are poisoned ! And quiet country roads, Disturbed but in the early morn And evening hour, by peasants' carts. Now shake beneath The rumbling loaded camions, And little village places There beyond the roads Are now all broken down A mass of smoking ruins And little children, playing in the grove. They are no more. And the soft green sward 'Tis overturned for new made graves. There the crosses are inscribed And with the flags All standing in a row. And yet San Marco's Such a lovely peaceful place From all this bitter wanton war Which wakes, redeems the world Is not removed. 5^1 A BOOK OF VERSE For I saw there the signs upon the walls Written in many tongues Having the German words all roughly crossed And some smudged out ! And over-pasted, Oh ! the glory of it ! Pictures of Belgium babies And the call to rescue them ! The convent of San Marco, *Tis a lovely place, 'tis like a pool So fresh and sweet and cool, And up above. Far up above The clear blue perfect sky Through the high and graceful trees Can evermore Can evermore Be seen ! S3 THE RETURN VERSAILLES And when the time came, The full time, the sure time, For which he waited. He said to us, "It's now our war. The foe of the allies Is now our foe! Justice, Righteousness and Truth, Freedom and Peace, And that sweet heritage. For which the fathers of our land Gave all to gain, And then, with their own lives defended,- The right to govern self. To grow and be and feel. Without the yoke of the oppressor. And the burden of a tyrant's hand — Are lost. For us and all the world. If these brave men Who stem the great grey tide In the northern fields of France, Go down submerged!" [54] A BOOK OF VERSE "Arise," said he, "For Freedom and Mankind!" And we arose, A nation, mighty, dreaming, strong. No thought of self, No secret planned designs, Naught but the freedom Which we loved. Was in our hearts and eyes. But ere we stood in our full strength The tide fell back The world was saved. The War was won ! In the great long hall of mirrors, Which Louis, the Arrogant, planned. Where Bismarck, the Iron, wielded The power made for his hand. There stands our trusted leader. Lonely and true and grand ! "We'll take this," says someone, "And that strip of land is our pay." "Ridiculous, this talk of Wilson. For what did we fight anyway ?/ [551 THE RETURN CHLOTILDE Name of a Queen ! Name of a lass, With soft warm eyes And a merry laugh, And a voice, like the voice of a brook Which flows o'er a pebbled bed Where the rocks are smooth And the banks are green All covered with deep fern moss. Chlotilde! Chlotilde! Name of a Queen Name of a lass. Of such loveliness As the fresh clear air Of the open field in the early morn When the dew's on the grass And the light of the sun on the kine As they pass to the meadow land beyond. Chlotilde! Chlotilde! of fair Savoy How I love to repeat thy name As I think of thy lips, How red they were [56] A BOOK OF VERSE And thy hands, Both given to mine to guard, And the touch of thy cheek Oh! thejoyitgave Like the joy in richest wine! 57 THE RETURN THE UNION JACK The Blood and Guts of England! Raise on high! The Blood and Guts of England Let it fly! The Blood and Guts of England. Hear him rave! The Hun slinks by to homeland, See it wave! 58 A BOOK OF VERSE OUR SERVICE FLAG Our Service Flag, of purest white Dipped in the red of richest blood, And studded o'er with stars, — Deep blue and shining gold, — Hangs high above the chancel rail. But gently does it move, there high aloft. Where currents of the nave and transept meet, And rightly does it hand, so near the cross. The Symbol of our gift to free mankind. And as I sit and worship here, Quietly our God, And listen to the words of life The priest to us declares, I look up to that banner of our youth Who serve in this great Cause of Right, And how my heart fills up with stirring pride, — Though there are times when sorrow reigns supreme. His star is there, the fourth, Though he was first to go. How clear it shines and bold, — His star, my son's, — His star of radiant gold ! [59] THE RETURN FROM THE DEAD To-day, in bold black type, The headlines ran, "Italia from parleys Has withdrawn. And Orlando, before he left Spoke out his nation's will." "The allies promised us," he said, "Trieste and Trentino And all the high and rocky coast Beyond the sea. It was for these we fought And our brave sons So gallantly have died. And by the blood of those who've gone We'll have them all!" And Wilson answered him, "Not land, not wealth. But Liberty endangered, Called our men To fight and die. And now. The thing that's right 60 A BOOK OF VERSE And only that Shall stand!" We who have died, The dead of many nations, Whose bodies lie On field and hill, where they have fallen, Whose spirits are alive. We cheer him on Who stands alone. And holds thus high aloft The flame! Land! What cared we for land ? Ports! We never heard their names — - The comrade, much beloved, Whose body lies next mine. Where gently flows the Meuse And flowers bloom, I heard him say Not long before he died. That he had come Because of Poland's wounds, And I gave up my life [6i] THE RETURN Fighting the Hun, That Freedom might prevail And Justice rule supreme. What noble thoughts, they were With which, they spurred us on ! And now they talk of ports and land, And Orlando has gone back to his home Because Italia has been denied What had been once a part of Venice' Main, A distant and protected harbor wall ! Rest gently, brother, 'Twill not be in vain. There stands one Who guards The fruit Of all your pain. 62] A BOOK OF VERSE PEACE! They took from France Alsace Lorraine, Though thousands bled on hill and plain. They took from France Alsace Lorraine, The price of war, its fruit and gain. They took from France Alsace Lorraine Though thousands bled on hill and plain. But there were those who cried in pain, Alsace! My Alsace and Lorraine! They say, the Hun must give the Saar, For he has fought for selfish pow'r. They say, the Hun must give the Saar And pay the price of brutal war. They say, the Hun must give the Saar For he has fought for selfish pow'r. T^hey took from France Alsace Lorraine^ though thousands bled on hill and plain. They took from France Alsace Lorraine But there were those who cried in pain, Alsace! My Alsace and Lorraine! 63 THE RETURN SUNSET OGod! Could anything be more lovely, Than that sky! That pure, clear, cool Turquoise blue, Those streams of molten gold. That flame of red. And the rose and grey haze. Wrapt, as woman's scarf. Over the heads . . . The deep black hills. The dancing water. Flashing the colors Of Thy palette . . . OGod! Could anything be more lovely Than yon hills. And our Bay, And Thy Sky! [64] A BOOK OF VERSE A HYMN OF ASSURANCE I know Thou wilt abide In all that life doth hold, Thou Keeper of the fold My Guardian and Guide. Though dawn, so pure and clear, Doth grey and turn to mist I know the sun hath kist The rose and brought its cheer. Though clouds have filled the sky And heavy hangs the day Assured I wend my way Knowing that Thou art nigh. Though night doth draw apace And never once the light Doth burst upon my sight I know Thy blessed grace. I know Thou wilt abide In all that life doth hold Thou Keeper of the fold. My Guardian and Guide. [65] THE RETURN SPRING SONG OF A LOVER OF JUDAH Arise O My Love ! Arise O My Love ! Thou fairest of maidens, Come thou with me. Come! Come! Come thou with me, Thou fairest of maidens, come, come away! See up from the happy earth lilies appearing. List ! hear the birds in the myrtle trees sing. Hark to the voice of the turtle dove calling, His love notes are sounding over the land. The green figs are filling, the vines are in blossom, All life is astir and fragrance on all. For lo! He hath drawn the winds from our valleys. And the rain he hath quenched, whose Spring is his song! Arise O My Love! Arise O My Love! Thou fairest of maidens, come thou with me. Come! Come! Come thou with me. Thou fairest of maidens, come, come away! 661 A BOOK OF VERSE WORDS What strange things words are! The vibration of carefully stretched cords Enclosed, unfolded, Determined by position Of tongue and teeth and lips And form of throat, And an indefinable something Regulating all Called brain, or mind or soul. Lheard a man utter a word once. Which aroused another to fury, His whole being burned With consuming anger. It was a terrible sight, — That man, in his frenzy. Because of that word. 67 THE RETURN 1 heard a word in the summer breezes, A word so softly sweetly breathed I scarce did hear it, A word which metamorphised Into a kiss A sigh And a caress. I heard a word fall softly, quietly, A word which sent men into the darkness Over damp fields and through hedges And blood stained fields To death, And to whatever there is Left here after death. And to whatever there is Beyond death. Where the spirit goes — If it goes. A BOOK OF VERSE What strange things words are! The vibration of carefully stretched cords Enclosed, unfolded Determined by position of tongue And teeth and lips And form of throat, And an indefinable something Regulating all Called brain, or mind, or soul ! [69 THE RETURN VACHEL LINDSAY Vachel Lindsay Wandered here and there, North and Southland East and West, Without wallet or staff. Singing his songs. The dusty roads Gave back his music, With the voice of the thrush In the fences. After he had passed. The mud-floor shack Of the mountaineer Crooned its cabin tunes, When in the dew of early morning. He wandered on his way. Village and country places And the ugly unkempt towns. Cleaned their streets, And washed their windows. 70 A BOOK OF VERSE And painted out their uncouth signs, After he and his glad singing Had come and gone ! Says Mrs. Parks Of Springfield, "Where is Vachel now?" "Wandering down in South Carolina," Said a neighbor, "Sticking poems onto People's doors!" "Isn't it disgusting?" said another. "Most disgusting," all replied. And still he dreams — And sings . . . iyil A BOOK OF VERSE A ROSE Beyond a vineclad wall a lovely rose Doth bloom within a garden of a friend, And oft within the charm it doth extend O'er all, I stand and fondly gaze. Who knows Such moments when the life so gently flows As zephyr wafted odors seem to wend The soul away and fragrance doth attend As upward on its holy way it goes ? How my heart longs, as there I stand and gaze To gather up this rose of red and press The coolness of its petals to my face. The Delphic Pythian dreamed amid the haze And saw Truth rise, as I, without caress Of rose, see Fate adown the road apace! 72] THE RETURN THE MAGNATE The button's there. The heater's just below That silver plate beneath the seat, and when 'Tis on, as now, it gives a temperature Of seventy upon the coldest day. You've been here long enough to know, I'm sure, How cold can be the weather in these streets. These man-made canyons, which we call New York. This car — there's not another one in town. In all of Gotham, like this car of mine, — Was made for me by Count d'Estrees the year The war broke out. He said his expert men In all his shops united to produce The finest car of all the year. And then He sent it me as a mark of his esteem. Though there was trouble, I will grant, before He got it shipped. But as you know his power And mine are great enough to set aside Whatever laws may here or there prevail. I mean laws technical. The moral laws Are binding on us all ! Ah ! notice there The tower beyond the sun. How bright it shines ! We pass the building several corners up Of which it is the top. It is, I think. 73 A BOOK OF VERSE The highest in New York. The other day I bought it on the Street, will you believe, For just a paltry sum. Our copper mines Are coming on so well that we can do That sort of thing without concern. It came So cheap because the money's not so free As several months ago before the war Was on. You know, I've made in copper more This year than in the twenty others passed In which I've owned the Rostock vein. And that Despite the heavy tax of every sort They make us big ones bear. Just now, as you Perhaps have read, a heady bunch have held Our smelter up. Such idle fellows as Come round to stir the worker's ire. Yet not To open strike but to in subtle ways Delay the work, to damage or destroy The plants. They say it's German gold and I Believe they're right, though there is much not so Explained. In Bisbee now there is, I'm told A brewing such a mess as may result In something even worse than war. You see The President, he doesn't understand. He talks a lot, and what he says sounds good. But Samuel Gompers and that crowd have got [74] THE RETURN His ears more than the rest of us who've made This Tand, who've brought the peace and wealth and power Which we have known now for many years. If we had men Hke Root or Taft or some One of McKinley's sort for these hard days! We're now at Central Park. The bronze beyond St. Gaudens made. 'Tis General Sherman of Our Civil War. And here reside, as you French say, the big bonnets of our great land. Our house is farther up and on the Drive, But closed just now. My wife prefers to stay Up in the hills until the Fall is passed. And Maude — our only child — has gone to France As canteen girl. This snapshot came to-day From St. Nazaire, where she is serving now. You'll recognize the Bretonnes by their caps. See those big straw filled shoes on that sweet lass By Maudie's side. Fair? Yes, but strong. She has Her mother's build and eyes and mother's heart But all the energy and power of her Old dad! Sometimes I cannot help but wish She were a boy. There just across the road's Our gallery. It's not your Louvre, but then It's coming on, and some collections there. The gobelins — they're mine — are now as fine [75] A BOOK OF VERSE As any that I know. I'd like to take You through it while you're here, though I presume Your time is filled. The church beyond the store Is where you'll speak. I've been an elder there For thirty years. Oh yes, I'm older than You think. I've trained my body as I train My office force and all who work for me And serve my will. A morning plunge, some time Each day upon the links, or walking through The hills, keeps me so trim and strong and young. Then I've gone straight you know — no vices that Break down the vigor of a man, and not A drop of wine for years ! Sounds strange to you. Though chaplain that you are ? You think of all Those vintages at home in poor Champagne. That limestone on the corner's Carnegies'. You've heard of him — a wonder in his day — But now enfeebled and we fear will soon Pass on. He came here steerage so they say. But how he forged ahead! This land of ours Is such a place where anyone who has The brain and fire of daring soul can go Ahead, and scale whatever heights he will. That's why I have no sympathy with all This wild roaring crowd of reds who pester now 76 THE RETURN As Stinging flies upon a patient horse. Most al] of our great men were born poor, And some from poverty arose, because They had the might of will. And they who stay Below stay there because they have not in Themselves the power to rise. And that's the crowd The under inefficient noisy ones That Wilson listens to. My father had A farm up Haarlem way, not far from where Our car is passing now. 'Twas just a small And scraggly unproductive farm, and when He died, at fifteen, I went forth to fight The world. And what I've done could anyone Who has the power within him, as I say, To go ahead. They who succeed are those Who well deserve success. And they who fail They fail because they are themselves. They need Our aid. The charities, I help, and serve Upon their boards, and do, if I may say. Munificently support. They need as well Our sympathy. But when the workers join And seek the mines, the shops, the railroads, and The business of the world and government To run to ruin, 'tis then I fight and all My power in Wall Street and at Washington [77] A BOOK OF VERSE I'll turn to put them down ! What right have they To tell me how to run my mines ? Well, here We're back. How fast the time has gone! You'll lunch With us on Sunday after church. And as I said, I'll gladly give to further your Great work. The orphans most of all disturb My heart. My check was mailed to you to-day. And if you wish I'll act as treasurer. It's nothing, sir! The office force can care For all the mail without increase and if My name can serve you, why, of course, it's yours! It's been a pleasant ride. Jones, have that boy, There shiv'ring by the post, bring me The Times How cold it is outside! Goodbye, my friend. My salutations to your croix du guerre! 78 THE RETURN A PRAYER FOR THE COUNTRY O Jehovah, God of the High Heavens, Creator — Preserver — Governor, Thou that keepest covenant with them That love Thee and do Thy will; God of Justice, Bless our Native Land we pray. Bless the chosen guardians, Who make, interpret, and execute the laws. May they do all in accordance with Thy will. Bless our institutions. The Home, the Church, the School, And all others Restraining evil, promoting happiness. Building up character. And fostering true knowledge and faith in Thee. Bless especially and guide In this great crisis, amid distress, Perplexity, suffering and war. Our Armies — Our Navies, And all other forces Making the arm strong, the judgment sure. The heart courageous and the end certain. Let the sacrifice of life. 79 A BOOK OF VERSE The burden of pain, The weary watches, The love in absence Bear fruit in Victory, In Holiness, In Freedom and World Peace, Through Christ, Thy Son, Whose reign shall never end. Amen. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 015 799 616 2