SOME 
 POEMS 
 
 CLARA LOUISE LAWRENCE', 
 
SOME 
 POEMS 
 
 CLARA LOUISE LAWRENCE 
 

 Copyright, 1914, by 
 
 Clara Louise Lawrence 
 
 Pittsburgh, Pa. 
 
 ©CI.A386607 
 
 0CT2 1914 
 
AFTERNOON TEA. 
 
 N ATTRACTIVE table, round and neat. 
 Presided over by faces sweet; 
 Wafers and candy by fair hands passed. 
 And I'm having my afternoon tea, at last. 
 
 Luxurious pillows, an easy chair ; 
 Odors of violets filling the air. 
 The mingling voices of women and men. 
 Discussing events that are and have been. 
 
 My thoughts are dreamily lifting to things 
 More ideal than commonplace brings. 
 When a bit of gossip commands my ear. 
 Wafted from someone to someone near. 
 
 Touching lightly a woman's name ; 
 Adding a thoughtless word of blame. 
 Oh, why could they not let that scandal rest. 
 Who welcomed her once as an honored guest? 
 
 My illusion is ended ; no longer the light 
 
 Of the sweet-scented room is delicious and bright ; 
 
 For gossip, that poison, has sifted, I see. 
 
 To the very dregs of the afternoon tea. 
 
 C. L. L. 
 
OH>r-ri'[A. 
 
MANHOOD. 
 
 EAR LITTLE BOY, I sigh 
 
 When I think how the years have flown. 
 And your baby days and the httle ways 
 
 My big boy has outgrown; 
 
 And so I cannot help but sigh 
 When I think how the years roll by. 
 
 My little boy, I know 
 
 You have grown up big and strong, 
 And that some sweet day you will ride away 
 
 Your fortune to seek with the throng. 
 Then I shall close my eyes and sigh, 
 Dear little boy, good-bye. 
 
 Ah, Httle boy, I beg 
 
 A promise before you go : 
 Keep your fine eyes bright and your honor right 
 
 While temptations come and go. 
 Only courage and honor can evil deny. 
 There, little boy, good-bye ! 
 
 C. L. L. 
 
MEMORIES. 
 
 FOUND an album, dear, to-night — 
 A plush one — yellow — such a fright ! 
 'Twas one you gave me, years ago, 
 when we were girls at school, you know. 
 
 I opened it; old memories came 
 Bubbling up. There was my name 
 In bright red right across the page : 
 "To my dear chum, from Susan Page." 
 
 Your photo occupied first place. 
 Smiling, I gazed in your saucy face. 
 Back flew my thoughts to school and you. 
 And the dreadful things we used to do. 
 
 The bright little room we used to share, 
 Indigestible feasts we would nightly prepare; 
 You remember the girls, when a box we'd receive, 
 'Most ate us with kindness, that didn't deceive. 
 
 And when, after "Lights out; young ladies to bed!" 
 The candy we ate and the trash that we read ; 
 Afraid of the poor little mice that would come. 
 Brown beggars unbidden, to eat the last crumb. 
 
 When remembering these things, almost wild I become 
 For a jolly reunion — some more school-girl fun ; 
 But those days have passed, dear — can never come back — 
 For you're Mrs. Leshe, and I've — married Jack. 
 
 C. L. L. 
 
HER LETTER. 
 
 VE OWED you a letter for almost a year. 
 And I've thought of you hundreds of times, you 
 
 old dear ; 
 But you knew I was, busy, so why didn't you 
 Heap a few coals of fire — you've nothing to do. 
 
 I don't mean quite that, though; I know you're a belle. 
 And adorn each social function that's swell ; 
 But down in your heart. Sue, I think you'll agree 
 That society's not all its cracked up to be. 
 
 How we used to compare notes and laugh at the pokes 
 Who, when calling, regaled us with tired-out jokes ! 
 Ah, that time seems so far off that once was so near ! 
 Don't you wish we might talk it all over. Sue, dear? 
 
 The years bring more changes to me than to you. 
 
 But, unlike the old woman who lived in a shoe, 
 
 I adore all my babies ; nor can it be said 
 
 They are treated to spankings and broth without bread. 
 
 Jack IS still my ideal ; we've been married ten years. 
 And are poorer than ever, which causes no tears. 
 For we're happy together. Sue, come visit me ; 
 Jack Jones was asking, and says he will be 
 
 Delighted to meet you; so don't say me nay. 
 I trust an epistle will soon speed this way 
 Announcing your coming, and then. Sue, look out 
 For the kind of a time I've been dreaming about. 
 
 C. L. L. 
 
THREE LITTLE WORDS. 
 
 HREE little words you bade me say. 
 When I was with you, dear, to-day: 
 Three little words, and only three, 
 But they meant much to you and me, 
 Because they were, "I love you!" 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 When days go wrong, as days will do. 
 My thoughts will simply turn to you. 
 While in my heart the words ring true, 
 I love you — oh, I love you ! 
 
 And, like the flowers, after rain. 
 Start up, refreshed, to grow again. 
 Your love has made me smile through pain. 
 Because — because — I love you! 
 
 C. L. L. 
 
I MISS MY LITTLE BOY. 
 
 MISS my little boy to-night, 
 And murmur low his name. 
 
 And think how glad and proud I'll be 
 To have him home agam. 
 
 I miss his footsteps in the hall. 
 His ready kiss and smile; 
 
 It seems as if he'd just gone out 
 To be back after while. 
 
 I rise to call him in to lunch 
 
 (Promptness was not his rule) ; 
 
 Then I remember, with a start — - 
 My boy's away at school. 
 
 Then lovingly I touch his books. 
 
 Or keep a broken toy. 
 And long to fold him in my arms ; 
 
 He's just my little boy. 
 
 But when his letters come to me. 
 
 Filled with each hope and plan, 
 
 I seem to realize how soon 
 My boy will be a man. 
 
 A man of whom I may be proud 
 I know my boy will be ; 
 
 But even then he'll be my boy — 
 My little boy to me. 
 
 C. L. L. 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 Y LITTLE children's stockings 
 Are hanging in a row. 
 
 Upon the nursery mantelpiece, 
 So Santa Claus will know. 
 
 The first one is Louise's; 
 
 A list pinned on the toe 
 Tells what her girl's heart longs for, 
 
 So Santa Claus will know. 
 
 If John a "watch that goes" don't find, 
 
 I fear his tears will flow. 
 He's been so sweet and good, dear lad ! 
 
 Well — Santa Claus will know. 
 
 My Billy Boy and Miriam, too. 
 What have they asked for? Oh, 
 
 So many winding toys and things, 
 Old Santa Claus will know. 
 
 Ah, me, how very trustingly 
 
 At Christmas, long ago, 
 I used to hang my stocking up 
 
 So Santa Claus would know. 
 
 C. L. L. 
 
THE AFTERGLOW. 
 
 OU REMEMBER the day we were walking 
 O'er the fresh frozen hills thro' the snow. 
 And the sound of a violin's music 
 Came plaintively to us, and low. 
 And the sun, going down, spread about us 
 A wonderful rich afterglow. 
 
 Your eyes were alight with Love's message 
 As we stood 'mid the ice and the snow. 
 
 As I read your desire — your question, 
 
 Ere your lips framed it softly and low. 
 
 Then Heaven and earth met together 
 
 With our lips in the sweet Afterglow. 
 
 Swift Time, in his flight, drops his cargo 
 Of sorrow and joy at our feet; 
 
 But Nature, her children adoring, 
 Will temper the bitter with sweet. 
 
 And now Memory's painting a picture 
 
 Of a youth and a maid in the snow; 
 And adding, in beautiful colors. 
 
 The background of Life's Afterglow. 
 
 C. L. L.