Class /c><:}SOfJ^ Copyright ]^^. ^iln. CXIEXRIGHT DEPOSm LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE By CHARLOTTE BARNES BIGELOW CHICAGO 1916 Copyrighted By Florence Edgerton Bigelow Chicago, 1 916 All rights reserved Published December 1916 P-- O^ JAN -9 1917 Ho / . Dedicated to the Memory of My Mother Phoebe Edgerton Barnes CONTENTS PAGE Life- Voyage (Sonnet) i A Dream That Was All a Dream 2 The Winds 3 I. Ye True Story of Ye Belgian Hare 4 11. The Belgian Hare (Sequel) . 5 Woodland Brook (A Wedding Gift) 6 "Just Love Me" (Mrs. M. to Florence) 7 To a Robin (Singing from the Top of a Telegraph-Pole) 8 The Mute Mother 9 A Crystal Heart (Sonnet) 10 A Rainy Day in May 11 A Gift of Beads 12 Constancy 12 Hallowe'en (Suggested by J. T. McCutcheon's Cartoon, Chicago Tribune) 13 Three Birdies 15 The Irishman's Smile (St. Patrick's Day) .... 17 Erin's Colleen 17 Reminiscence 19 With a Silver Bread Boat 19 An Equine Threnody 20 The Dead Tree 21 A Summer Idyl 21 Margarethe 22 Vacation — The Return 23 Seventy-fifth Anniversary of the Founding of Trinity Church 24 Trinity Church Choir (Paraphrase, Revelations, Chap. 7) 26 Page CONTENTS B Burning of Grace Episcopal Church (Sunday Morning, September 26, 191 5) 27 Nashotah Mission 28 The Virgin Mary 29 ''He Maketh theLame to Walk" 30 "Holy Island" 31 Sunday Morning Hymn at Pine Lake 32 Lincoln (Fifty years from the lying of his body in state in Chicago Court House, April, 1865-April, 191 5) 34 Washington and Lincoln (February 12 and 22) . , 35 T.R 37 Flags (National and Blue Flags) 38 Starved Rock 39 "On to Mexico" 41 The HjT^henated American 42 Work Out Your Own Salvation 43 Flag Day (For School Children) 44 When Ireland Is a Coaling Station! (Reply to German boast that they would "make Ireland a coaling station on their way to America") 45 A Real Daughter of 181 2 46 Memorial Day (1861-1916) 47 Madonna Lilies 48 White Carnations (For Mothers' Day) 49 Great-Grandmother's Willow 50 Ghost Flowers (Indian Pipes) 50 Columbine from Banff 52 Peonies (Red, Golden, Pink, and White) • ... 53 The Morning-Glory (Emblem of Mother-Love) . . 54 Hidden? 55 "Slippit Awa'" 55 Ascension 56 " Oor Lang Hame " 57 The Last Aristocrat 59 Resurrection 60 Page vi CONTENTS Transplanted 6i Director of the Art Institute 62 The Passing of the G.A.R. 63 "Taps" 64 Doctor J. B. Murphy (Death Triumphant) ... 65 The Sculptor (Charles J. Mulligan) 66 James Whitcomb Riley (Requiem) 67 Booker T. Washington (The Leader of His People) . 68 *' The Mystery Mansion" 69 ''Uncle Silas" 70 Wedding Bells Tolled 71 "She Hath Done What She Could" 72 Heart-Cry September Sixteenth (Folger) .... 73 Easter Greeting 74 The First Easter (The Women at the Tomb) ... 74 Adele Frances 76 Virginia (Born Columbus Day) 77 A Merry Christmas 78 The First Christmas 78 The Night before Christmas ("And she brought forth her first-born and laid Him in a manger ") ... 79 The New Year 80 The Knight's Vigil (Painting by John Pettie, R.A.) . 81 Retrospect 82 Inspiration 83 Memory Day 84 Grand Isle, Vermont 85 Page vii LIFE-VOYAGE SONNET I have sailed, I have sailed over Earth's seas Swept by storms of December, caressed by May breeze, Encountered old age, manhood prime, and youth gay, Sighted broad palms, glimpsed pines of Norway — White soul of a woman smiled for me through sweet eyes, The Southern Cross guards where our heart's treasure lies; I have seen gallant ships ride the crest of the wave, Seen prouder ships sink in the deep to their grave; In doldrums limp sails hung in folds to the mast, I have heard typhoons roar, death shrieks on the blast — Yet known through it all, bright sky or cloud pall. Sighting safe harbor, or "Valkyrie Hall," The compass points true, there was guiding hand, Each ship with its crew would reach its home land! Page one LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE A DREAM THAT WAS ALL A DREAM Through all the leaden hours the cruel sun Had beat upon our grief ! The hot tears blistered as they fell — The dull throb of our aching heart Choked our breath and knelled the pulse of time ! Then night fell, starless, moonless night. We would not have it other, then blest unconsciousness! And in that sleep, not dreamless, our brain uncontrolled Wove into rhythmic flow of verse, line upon line! To our ecstatic mood there came the joy of the creator! This our masterpiece! Compensation! Our name shall live! Imprisoned in what brain cell Lives my dream- verse dormant ? To what throe of sorrow, What new birth of joy, Shall my dream-verse rise Embodied ? Page two THE WINDS THE WINDS West wind, dear home wind, come cool over sea, Pure as its white foam, as wide-winged gulls free! Tarry, Oh, tarry with me ! South wind, soft sweet wind, daisies sway as you pass, Pink rose petals fall, bees drone in the grass — As you pass, whispering pass ! East wind, mist-laden — ^wide hearth lend thy cheer, Driftwood spark blithely, all chairs draw up near — Welcome cheer, kindly home cheer! North wind, bleak storm wind, shriek shrill a weird tune. Dead hopes, long-lost friends, sands shift o'er the dune. Old Norse rune, sad folk-song rune! Winds come, we greet thee, to each message bring. Encircling round Earth, hearts answer, hands cHng, Responsively sing, winds sing! Page three LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE YE TRUE STORY OF YE BELGIAN HARE In bosky fen and sylvan glade A Belgian hare had burrow made; Not far from cottage thatch and glebe, Where in the springtime sown was seed Of golden carrots, turnips white. And dogs were kenneled safe at night. Here he had hoped for many a day To alternate light work with play — With ear alert to every sound Of beast of prey or vibrant ground. One day there came a fearsome noise Not made by prowling fox or boys! Out from clear sky the thunder rolled. The lightning flashed, the church bells tolled, And from the sky there shot a star That any rabbit's nerves would jar! With instinct for some human aid He farmhouse sought, when sore dismayed Was he as he drew near to see A scene of woeful misery! From house and barn the flames rise high, The cattle low, the children cry — Said bunny, " 'Tis no place for me, I tracks will make for Zuider Zee!" From there with one appalling bound He landed safe on Yankee ground! Now, here we find in safe retreat, In burrow deep on shady street, Page four THE BELGIAN HARE This refugee from German raid A peaceful home for exile made — To loving mate in garb of gray He tells, as veterans have a way, Of perils past, of valor bold, That lose no whit by being told ! He thanks the gods of earth and air That guide and guard a Belgian hare, That led him to this ^'neutral" shore Till tumult of the war is o'er. II THE BELGIAN HARE SEQUEL All peaceful in his sheltered nest A furry thing was dreaming Of youth and scenes in other lands. Of moonlight o'er brooks gleaming. A strange unrest! Sharp startled, cry! A memory of perils past — And in his dream he lives again The horror that his life o'ercast, That drove him in a wild tumult O'er wastes and mighty deeps — This changed, as in a dream scenes will, In burrow soft he sleeps. A roar! A crash, an agony of fear! Sharp fangs and rending claws Through tender flesh and fine-strung nerves, Vain struggle — broken laws! Page five LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE Then, mercifully, in dreams no more, But in whatever spirit-land Is gathered sentient life, He joins the martyred band! Oh, Belgian hare! Oh, Belgium! Our reason and our faith rebel! What God or gods watched over thee That brute force tolled thy knell ? WOODLAND BROOK A WEDDING GIFT This stream that wends its quiet way, Reflecting heaven's own blue, Through June-fringed banks of tender green Sparkling with morning dew. Where chirp of nesting bird is heard. And shifting rays of golden light Gild wavelets on the mossy rim, Where fireflies danced at night. Needs but the smile that plays around The lips of one sweet maid And the proud air of ownership Quite fearlessly displayed. To bring the blessing to your home That we from full hearts send. With wishes that your stream of life Flow placid to the end. Page six JUST LOVE ME' "JUST LOVE ME" MRS. M. TO FLORENCE In minor key, plaintive and low, Soft cooing of the dove, Flitting between the earth and sky, Asking for only "love"! A woman's charm in every move, A woman's pulsing heart Bestowing all, yet asking naught But in your "love" a part! With grace of line, cadence of speech, Yet modest as a flower That lifts its wet face to the blue From chink in some gray tower. These twain into each other's eyes Looked deep, nor searched in vain, Each found the sympathy they sought, Then hymned love's soft refrain. Page seven LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE TO A ROBIN SINGING FROM THE TOP OF A TELEGRAPH-POLE Brave copper-breasted harbinger of spring, Pouring upon the city twilight air Full-throated melody from your high perch Above the top-crossed bar of that bare pole ! By what wild glamour of new love's unrest Find you a heart-balm for far southern spire Of cypress, moss-draped oak, or orange scent ? Or is there fine magnetic thrill Trembling along prosaic wire to far-off mate Lonely as you, waiting alone while you explore This northern clime for homestead stake ? Now, is there borne upon some truant breeze, Wooing the crocus and the daffodil From their safe winter sleep. What gives you hope for brighter days, That you dare fling with rash assurance Out upon the fickle wind your clarion call To her attuned ear for wooing note That bids her follow her dear lord ? By mystery of love's intuition, perched above earth. Against the glowing sunset cloud You sway in glad response and joyously Pour forth your welcoming, alluring song. Across the great gulf fixed to us Spring brings no message fond. No whisperings of hope; But your sweet note, bright bird, Gives this much joy. That there are happy hearts, And we do hear your song. Page eight THE MUTE MOTHER THE MUTE MOTHER My child is born ! Was there no cry ? My child is born ! They who come nigh Look strangely; all about no joy I see ! Chill welcome for my baby boy ! A shadow falls athwart the way His tender feet must tread ! Dismay Looms dark and chill, but gives no sound Of warning or of welcome: all around My hearth are portents. I am dumb, My heart is chilled, my Hmbs are numb ! I would enfold, would press his face To my full, throbbing breast, would trace Each dear lineament, but fear Lest he might cry and I not hear! O God ! why am I stricken so ? Until this hour I did not know How full my cup of misery! My baby's cry! My baby's cry! My baby's eyes! My baby's eyes! Sweet as the dawn at June sunrise ! No tear could dim their azure hue (A twilight mist, stars breaking through). But I should know if aught were wrong; Although no lullaby, no song May pass my lips to his dull ears, By instinct I can soothe his fears; Thus, though I hear not baby's cries. My baby's eyes, my baby's eyes Are wells of joy and peace to me! Page nine LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE Time is but short, eternity Shall loose our bonds, my baby boy. Then we shall know fulness of joy, Then to your wakened sense I'll tell What here lips could not frame so well, There we shall learn the reason why We were afflicted, you and I. A CRYSTAL HEART SONNET With curious quest, the bitter fruit of seed Of that fair tree that lost man Eden, With vision fixed we gazed where in its lucid depths Mayhap might lie, plain written there as on a scroll, The long-sought answer to our heart's desire. Or there be limned, dim maybe (but we should know The faintest semblance), that one face that blurred all other. That ever seeking, elusive ever, left us lone in densest crowd. And, as we gazed, we felt the chill, we knew despair, the horror That the heart-chords shrank, that spread untimely blight O'er the fair cheek of the first Unsatisfied! For, those clear depths darkening, shuddering, we saw our soul! There, quivering, as that ravished ''Tree of Life," We *' heard God's voice" and ''hid" — we too were sore ^'afraid." Page ten A RAINY DAY IN MAY A RAINY DAY IN MAY O rainy day! O rainy day! All in the smiling month of May A shrieking blast from the nor'east Discomforts man, chills the dumb beast Which strays, where cowslip lifts bright head, Through slushy paths, to find, instead, No starry glimmer, luscious bite; But earth and sky in gloom unite To disappoint these longing hearts That know not nature's tricks nor arts; Then wiser, seek 'neath dripping trees, With plaintive bellow, to appease Their hunger and aesthetic sense By lifting boards off garden fence! But man, less wise in creature lore. Cusses the weather, walks the floor. Takes up, throws down, the latest book, Kicks the sad dog, rails at the cook; A joy ride in his swell machine, Mayhap with chosen May Day Queen, A meet with chums on the golf Unks, Of these and many things he thinks That might have been but for this rain, And then he kicks the dog again! O weather-man ! we thee implore More perfect balance to restore Between the good poor mortals crave. While tarrying this side the grave, And this downpour from north by east. Page eleven LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE For man nor beast much patience show When skies are dark and chill winds blow, Because today it chance to rain, Remember not the sun again Will shine through all some happy day. For this is May! For this is May! A GIFT OF BEADS A sweet surprise before me Hes, Supplying latest need! A prayer I'll say as dawns new day Upon each glistening bead! Most gracious friend, with gift to send Your sunny smile to me — Reminder of the days we spent Those happy hours of calm content Beneath the greenwood tree! Long days and years, with fewest tears. We wish you to life's end! May each fresh morn your charm adorn As will these beads your friend ! CONSTANCY Though the candle of life burns low in the socket, I am shiny of seams and empty of pocket. The star of your trust still brightens my way. The gold of your love gilds my life's work-a-day! Page twelve HALLOWE'EN HALLOWE'EN SUGGESTED BY J. T. m'cUTCHEON'S CARTOON CHICAGO TRIBUNE Yep, sonny, this is summer, Injun summer, sure enough ! Don't know what that is ? Do you reckon just a bluff ? You likes stories, don't you? Sure as guns you dew! Not the made-up stories? Likes them that's mostly true! Wal, when homesick Injuns, tired of ghosts of things (Harpin' ain't so satisfyin' as when them tree- toads sings), Bein' old, remembers, when they was little boys, All the things they used to dew, just common earthly joys; How they smoked the corn-silk an' on punkins made Orful scarecrow faces, most made theyselves afraid! An' the huntin' an' the fishin', an' the dancin' tew Roun' the big fire in the evenin' same as me and yew! So this time o' year they cum a-troopin' along back When the moon is in the full, ''an' the corn is in the shack," An' the big roun' punkins lay in' temp tin' all aroun'. An' the dry leaves fallin' in great heaps on the groun', Brown an' red an' yaller, purty as can be, An' the nuts a drappin' off the hick'ry tree! (Now don't you httle feller git scairt at what I tell.) When the woods gits hazy an' thar's a smoky smell, An' what you thought was corn stacks A 'front of them old shacks. Page thirteen LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE Them's Injun wigwam poles a-stickin' right up threw, They's wampun beads a-shinin' in the frosty dew, An' you see queer shadders a-movin' sum aroun'. Them is Injun warriors a-squattin' on the groun'. II I ain't a bit begrudgin' them this little change a spell. For whar their spirrits ben no one here can tell. An' I know by my own feelin's, if I should have to go Away from all of this that Injuns used to know, Thet when these fall days cum, so hazy an' so still, I should git lonesum tew for medder, crick, and hill. An' want to set right here a-talkin' soft tew you An' see the moon a-shinin', the air kinder blue! I ain't a-meanin' nothing' agin that hidden life, Whar the Good Book tells us ain't no war nor strife. But just a-thinkin' kinder that when our hearts hev ben Like that grapevine yonder, fur threescore year an' ten A-twistin' an' a-twinin' aroun' the things they know, 'Tain't natur, that just partin' for a spell to go Of a suddint off whar everything is queer. You won't, like them Injuns, be comin' back next year. To feel, but fur a minnit the cool wind on yer face. To see the moon a-lightin' up the old home for a space. An' ghmpse the old folks settin' roun' the fire maybe, A-lookin' roun' and wond'rin' what it is they see Outdoor, whar the shadders lay by the old stun wall ? (They might have, for a spell, like the Injuns in the fall?) Start a-tremblin' at the rustlin' of the dead leaves creepy soun'. An' the hoarfrost sparklin' on the frozen groun', Page fourteen THREE BIRDIES Then wipe a tear an' heave a sigh — an' then Feel still, an' a'most comforted, same as we have ben. Now, sonny, run right home an' tell 'um what you've seen; The ghosts of Injuns an' thur camps 'cause this is Hallowe'en! An' next year when yer bigger, cum here alone maybe, An' settin' in the moonlight thinkin' sum of me. Look yonder whar the shadders fall thick agin the wall, I may be cummin' back again like the Injuns in the fall I THREE BIRDIES Three birdies there are. Though not in a tree, And they are as happy As birdies can be! One birdie is blue, And one birdie yellow, And one a bright red, A most beautiful fellow. The bird that is blue Is a piece of the sky. The white feather tips Are the stars you may spy As you look in a pool On a still summer night, Or up through the trees When the moon's not too bright. Page fifteen LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE But the bird that is red Is the one to love best, 'Tis the red of the sun That shines on your nest. To open your eyes To another new day, To love and be happy At work and at play. The sheen of the gold That birdie three wears Just touched your bowed heads As you knelt at your prayers. So, to Folger, dear Hart, And Catherine, Louise, And Caroline Florence We dedicate these Three birdies that flew From the tip of our pen. And hope that with spring days They will come back again. Page sixteen THE IRISHMAN'S SMILE THE IRISHMAN'S SMILE ST. Patrick's day The Irishman's smile, Oh, the Irishman's smile! As sweet and as fresh as his loved Emerald Isle; The babe from its own mother's breast it would wile, And long would you look for the peer of his style When the rosy-cheeked colleen he greets with that smile; The heart it would break of the Sphinx by the Nile! For his " top o' the mornin' " ye'd walk a long mile, Oh ! it's far ye would go for the charm of that smile ! 'Tis the dearest heart-wish that we ask for the while That the last of ould earth be that free from all guile; And pray that St. Patrick be there at the stile To welcome us in with the ''Irishmq^n's smile"! ERIN'S COLLEEN Fair blossom of ''ould Ireland," Why seek you root in this bleak clime ? Was shamrock dying on the lea ? Had ''Bells of Shandon" ceased to chime? The ruddy gold of your bright hair In waves of glory crown your head, You skim the sod with dancing feet As light as ever fairy's tread. Twin wells of sparkling depths your eyes, Reflecting every passing phase Of smiling blue or surcharged cloud — Coy and coquettish are your ways ! Page seventeen LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE The path of Hfe before you Hes, Devious, uncertain to the end, Fortune varying, good and ill. So wise you must be, little friend! We wish for you a good man's love. Be queen of one true, loyal heart, Safe shelter of your ain fireside. The peace that simple joys impart. Should fuller life, a wider sphere. Your talents and your strength command. Rise with the current, grasp the helm With a stout heart and steady hand ! But, glancing back to the "Green Isle," Keep warm in memory and in heart Its struggles, triumphs, and its woes. In its proud story you bear part. A thought we crave, whate'er betide, Ours is a goodly land and true. Though a first place we may not claim. With smiles, through tears, we welcome you. Page eighteen REMINISCENCE REMINISCENCE The organ swells softly, All silvered the spray, Spring birds chirp blithely ''We remember that May"! And tender thoughts linger On days far away, The sundial finger Points backward to "May"! Over years that are chill Stands out one bright day Made glad by the thrill Of a smile, star-gemmed May! WITH A SILVER BREAD BOAT Sail on ! Sail on ! With Cupid at the prow, May skies be ever blue, the air as soft as now, Your bungalow a dream, east front on Easy Street, Your bread thick spread with clover butter sweet. With cherub faces stamped upon each golden "pat," Your larder never empty, and " Welcome " on your mat. Page nineteen LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE AN EQUINE THRENODY Over my spirit, crushed by man, Whom serve I to Ufe's utmost span, There comes at times a longing strange For Asia's steppes, freedom to range Uncurbed, unbitted, with no rein But mine own will, naught to restrain The bounding pulse's joy of life; freedom To toss my mane, to race, to come Enticed by guerdon of no measured grain. I, who might trample the ungarnered plain. Spurn, with unshod hoof, the heavy beast Who bears the burdens of the slothful East! Shall generations of proud sires Goaded by spur and whip, quench fires That swept Siberian winter snows. Or where Arabian simoon blows Galloped, as free as winds of God, Fleet-footed where no man hath trod ? In youth, when hot blood swells the veins, I am the sport of silken reins. In age, when toil has dimmed mine eye. With shoes knocked off, turned out to die (Free at the last of bolts and bars), I see once more the guiding stars. And roUing, press the cool, soft turf. My glazed eyes close on the green earth. Page twenty THE DEAD TREE THE DEAD TREE Barren you lift imploring hands To the June sky! Over green lands You sense new life with joyous face ! Through numbing limbs you feebly trace Unfolding of all growing things — The wooing bird that pleading sings To his coy mate on trellised rose, The zephyr wind that luring blows The fragrant scent to honey-bee — And know, to all you stand, "Dead Tree," A prophecy, a story told, A menace over all you hold Of sad futurity — the end ! That life and love and time will rend The heart-chords, stop the flow of song. And all be as you are, "Dead Tree," ere long. A SUMMER IDYL Far from the ebb and flow of tides Of oceans or of men, Where sweet tranquillity abides By inland waters' bosky fen. The tired eyes, the noise-wrought nerves. Through summer days find rest Where dipping paddles, rounding curves. Scarce fright the reed bird from its nest, May thought of us mid daydreams sweet. As blossom on the lily pad. Beguile the hours to pass less fleet And speed the moments sorrow-clad! Page twenty-one LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE MARGARETHE Fair crowned, from Goethe's land she came, Proud daughter of the Rhine! The sun shone bright, the breeze was soft, When, clasped her hand in mine, I gazed into her bright blue eyes, Accepted pledge and sign! Long years have passed with sun and shade. Still was that smile of thine Through cloud and storm a beacon light, True daughter of the Rhine! Though tears oft dimmed those clear blue eyes, She brought no tears to mine ! Through stress and din of warring foes Along the banks of Rhine! Beneath the stars of this free land. The dove of peace benign Shall fold her wings, and in our hearts Still glow the flame divine ! Page twenty-two VACATION -THE RETURN VACATION— THE RETURN With faces turned from heat and crowd, Where Ossa upon PeHon piles, From glare and roar and pall of cloud We seek cool streams, secluded isles, Far from stifling, fetid dust, The scurrying feet, the pale, drawn face. Where need becomes impelling lust For power of gold, for pride of place. We flee from these — ah, fruitless quest — Where shall we find our heart's desire ? Where is the bourne of rest — just rest — Upon what willow hangs our lyre ? Place answers not our clarion call; Seek we a guiding hand — or fate — To our own selves we stand or fall — Fagged brain, frayed nerves, respond, "Too late"! We find sweet waters at the spring. Refreshing shade, lush meadow creeks, The bird and butterflies' bright wing. Dim valley mists, snow mountain peaks; Yea, these we sought and these we found. We wandered far for care's surcease; At Druid altars hymns resound; Can rocks and reeds heart-pain appease ? Page twenty-three LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE Then thought we gifts mayhap to leave * Where we sojourned a summer's day — A prop to which the weak might cleave, A glimmering spark to guide their way. Shall we return to bear our part, Strengthened to Hft our load again. To lend a hand, to cheer the heart Of labor- wearied fellow-men ? Much has been given, much received — We homeward turn to marts of men With vision cleared, view tasks achieved By sweat of brow, by hand, by pen, Accept that dust and heat combine To make and mold vast spheres of light, That men by pain and toil still cKmb Their ''Jacob ladder" through Earth's night. SEVENTY-FIFTH ANNIVERSARY OF THE FOUNDING OF TRINITY CHURCH Beloved Church of Triune God, Thrice-hallowed Trinity ! Three white-robed generations pass In presence of Infinity! They cast their crowns before His feet, His sign and seal they bear, In adoration kneel with us. And our devotions share. Page twenty-four ANNIVERSARY OF TRINITY CHURCH Sweet incense of white-petaled flowers Floats on the holy Hght, Wafting the prayers for sainted friends Long passed from tear-dimmed sight!. The songs of Zion, peal on peal, To vaulted roof resound — Tread softly, children of the Church, You stand on holy ground ! From portal to dim chancel rail Devout processions pass ; Soft halo on the low-bowed head Falls through memorial glass; The pain-crushed grape, the toil- won bread On sacrificial board Reveals through miracle of love To eye of faith, their Lord! Still stands His promise to His ''friends" Who His commands obey. Though through a night He hides His face, Shall dawn His perfect day! Thus pass the years — "three score and ten' Are but time's shifting sand — God's Church, builded upon ''T*he Rock," Eternally shall stand ! Page twenty-five LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE TRINITY CHURCH CHOIR PARAPHRASE, REVELATIONS, CHAP. 7 Before the altar and the Lamb I saw many clothed in white, Of nations all, peoples and tongues — Then said a voice unto me, "Write!" And there fair angels stood in lines, And elders, with uplifted face Fixed on the emblem of their faith, That stately lilies fragrant grace! Their voices tuned to one accord. Swayed by a master-mind, cried loud, *' Salvation to our God," alway. Floated as incense-bearing cloud! Another angel, from the East, Bearing the seal of the one God, Pleads, ''For their sake hurt not the earth Whose flower-gemmed turf their feet have trod!" Thus on their foreheads seal they bear. These ransomed of the Church we love, And with the heavenly choir they raise Our prayers unto the throne above! Page twenty-six BURNING OF GRACE EPISCOPAL CHURCH BURNING OF GRACE EPISCOPAL CHURCH SUNDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 26, I915 Gray dawn's first timid flush tinged ever-hallowed East, Awakened solemn hush chants hasten to the feast Spread on this holy morn, our risen Lord's first day, His table fair adorn, up, to the Temple, pray! Courts of the living God, acme of taste and skill (Whose aisles His saints have trod), tuned to the rhythmic thrill Of anthem roll and chime, hymned echo of a prayer, Above the surge of time, borne to diviner air! Halt! Roar of hurtling flame! Crash of rampart walls ! Fierce rage no power might tame humanity appalls! O man with brain obsessed, vaunting your godlike power. Weak, humbled, stand confessed, helpless in this dire hour! The fiery glare pales day, through billowed smoke's black pall. From tower outHned grimed gray peals out Christ's pledge to all! List, terror-stricken throng, upon your palsied ear Strikes glad, triumphant song from bell chimes float- ing clear! Page twenty-sevm LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE Now on the glowing Cross strained eyes may peafeful rest, Through veils of pain and loss, though doubts and griefs oppressed, Faith tuned above the clang and din of human aid Soared and inspiring sang, untroubled, unafraid! Fair visioned in God's sight shall a new Temple rise Above the gloom of night, embattled to the skies; Chimed bells, peal, as of yore, to the horizons bound, Proclaim from shore to shore, Grace, risen, haloed, crowned! NASHOTAH MISSION Nashotah, hill encompassed! Proudly upHft upon thy rugged shores Loved emblem of our faith! Within thy placid depths, gnarled trees, Hoary with age and memories, Are mirrored! Quivering, white-crested waves. Storm-tossed by wintry blasts, Reflect the steadfast stars That light with holy radiance The humble roof, the hallowed shrine That sheltered first the missioners Who flung to far-north winds The banner of the Cross! Who told to whispering pines. By waters stilled, amid the echoing hills, That Christ was come to men ! Page twenty-eight THE VIRGIN MARY Send forth, Nashotah ! Encircle the round earth, Give as unto thee was given, Youth, hope, yea, Hfe itself — Believing that to thee remains, Most comforting. His promise, "Lo, I am with thee alway, Even to the end!" THE VIRGIN MARY Of golden hair, soft eyes of blue, Mary, last of David's line. With mobile lips, a winning grace, A dignity of royal race, What meaneth Nazareth to you ? Comes there no pain of earthly loss, Unroll the stars a music scroll. No shrinking from hot Egypt sands, A murmur from the caravans, Do whispering trees shudder ''the Cross" ? A gray of cloud of nimbus edge, O'ershadows hilly paths you tread, The incense from white Hlies crushed Rests in soft halo round your head. Accept the Sacred Pledge! Lift morn and eve (for woman plead) Your soul's pure orisons. Redemption for a world of sin You carry meekly, and within Your tender heart, all human need ! Page twenty-nine LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE "HE MAKETH THE LAME TO WALK"* Through sun-white ways of Palestine Vast crowds are surging up and down 'Neath cedars of proud Lebanon, And cypress slopes from Tabor's crown, Along the Jordan banks! The motley throng one impulse thrills, From patriarch gray to callow youth, Dark-eyed Israelitish boys, Girls, golden crowned, as fair-haired Ruth, Proud mark of David's line! The quest of health surges through all. Youth to smitten age gives speech, While moans and cries from out the groups Swell to one plea, ''Thee we beseech, O Man of Galilee!" The deaf do hear! Sight to born bhnd! The lame do walk ! They joy to hear ! Hope from despair parts company — Healing of mind! And He is near Who bringeth all to pass ! And thus the miracles were wrought. Simple as faith of little child; The need of Him! Lo, He is near. The outstretched hand, and then He smiled, "Thy faith hath made thee whole!" Page thirty HOLY ISLAND" Today the healing gift fails not, Down the ages slow it came; To kindly heart join skilful hand, A power we know by a new name "Maketh the lame to walk!" The vision of the perfect Man May not be given all to see. But o'er rough roads, down rugged slopes, By waters of some Galilee, The lame by faith do walk! *^HOLY ISLAND" Above the forest dense and dark A giant pine uplifts its head. Hoary with age, with branches stark, Wind-swept and leafless, yet not dead. As if, recalling buoyant youth, A confident, sufficient prime. No prescience of oncoming ruth, Unshaken by relentless time. Boldly it says, "I challenge men, I lift my proud head to the storm. They pass me, even now, as when From riven heart I took this form." It shouts aloud, in clear strong tone, To listening or unheeding ear, *'Tho' I stand shattered and alone, Nor past, nor present, do I fear. Page thirty-one LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE *' Since in my body still I bear • This holy sign, the sacred cross, And men and I are in the care Of Him, there is no loss. ''No future dark that we may dread, My mission on the earth I fill. To me, as unto men," He said, ''Unto the end I'm with you still." Upon the breast of this fair lake (As does the Gahlean Sea) Most Holy Island homage make, Bear witness to Christ's sovereignty. Proudly upon thy lofty crest Rear his dear cross against the sky Till sun and moon forever rest, The stately pine shall lowly lie. SUNDAY MORNING HYMN AT PINE LAKE This hymn unto our God we raise. Expressing in a song of praise The morning joy we long to tell To the one ear that knows us well! This lovely lake that to our sight Flashes and dances in the light. Sparkles and swells as if to rise Exultant as the bird that flies, And pours its song while on the wing. Dips its soft breast, and bright drops cling That scatter, as it seeks the shore. In prismic shower ere it soar Page thirty-two SUNDAY MORNING HYMN AT PINE LAKE Again to join the choir above Rejoicing in a hymn of love! The stately pines through misty veil, The shrubs and lowly things that trail Among the pebbles on the beach, In their appointed way may reach Thy ear and lend their tuneful voice. Thus all together may rejoice! Each child of thine back to thy throne Restore to thee what is thine own; This hymn this holy morn we raise, May angels chant, "Behold, he prays!" Page thirty-three LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE LINCOLN FIFTY YEARS FROM THE LYING OF HIS BODY IN STATE IN CHICAGO COURT HOUSE April, 1865-April, 1915 Above the boom of surf, Upon the sounding shore, Above the roll of muffled drum. Above the cannon's roar. Is heard the tramp of myriad men, As to a mighty Psalm — Through the long hours of that black night. On which would dawn no day More heavy with a nation's woe. That for one moment they might gaze Upon that care-grooved, marble brow, Dead to all blame or praise. Through lofty dome, or murky pane, The paschal moon looks down, And planets in their courses halt Above the stricken town! The assassin's deed was deftly done, The giant column swayed and fell, The shackles of four million slaves Clashed out a mighty knell! From humble home and mother's knee Fared forth this sad-eyed patient man. Potomac laved Gethsemane, To Calvary was but a span! Page thirty-four WASHINGTON AND LINCOLN Rest thee, great heart ! on flag-draped bier, Soon will the tomb enclose This martyr to his fellow-men — We would not mar thy grand repose! On bronze and granite deeply grave, Oh, skilled and cunning hand, His image and his fervid plea. For a united land! As when before the great white throne You knelt with lifted face, A crown of glory o'er it shone, Freedom to a race! Unnumbered peoples weep for thee! Paeans down the ages roll. The Great Emancipator free! Unfettered is his soul! Note. — Daniel Folger Bigelow stood in this line from early evening until after midnight before reaching the catafalque on which reposed President Lincoln's body. This poem is written for our son, Louis Barnes, in memory of that event. — C. M. B. WASHINGTON AND LINCOLN FEBRUARY TWELFTH AND TWENTY-SECOND Beloved ''Father" of our land! "Deliverer" of a race! Deep graven be their honored names Where time may not efface! From red caves of their loyal hearts Men's life-blood gushed for thee. Who planted firm on freedom's height The banner of the free! Page thirty-five LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE Illume for us the tortuous way Our halting steps must trace — Before the heroes of those days We hide our pallid face! Oh, that the sword again might wave, The silver tongue of power Sway men to fine heroic deeds In this imperiled hour! With wreaths immortal would we crown, We teach our children song. But are we valiant for the right "To suffer and grow strong" ? With deeds and days do we revere Our regal, martyred dead, With requiem chant, with muffled drum, Draped flags and martial tread! But, where they stand in the white light Of heaven's eternal day, The wafted incense of men's praise Will pass, with earth, away ! Inscrutable to mortal ken God's sacrificial plan — He sets the halo of His love On him who dies for man! Page thirty-six T. R. T. R. Hail, Theodore! "The gift of God"! Men follow you with feet of clay; No bloodless track the way you trod. You blazed the trail to the affray! High born! A century too soon! Forerunner of the superman! Gray dawn moves slow to gilded noon, With you millennium began! With godlike patience bear with those Who low-browed issue from dim cave, Descry in shadows prowling foes. Reject the power mighty to save. Thus hath it ever been to gods Who came to earth to walk with men, Deep-furrowed the resisting clods, Then sorrowing passed beyond their ken. To other men, remoter times, Will heralds trumpet your proud fame. Grand harmonies, heroic chimes — Not here, nor now, we scribe with §hame. Page thirty-seven LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE FLAGS NATIONAL AND BLUE FLAGS Where lush-green meadows sunlit lie By catkin-bordered pool, Where cattle browse and solemn eye The children pass to school, Whose bell tones quiver on the air — Sweet-scented breath of June — Bedecked in colors, passing fair. Swayed rhythmic as a tune. The blue flag lifts its dewy face — Soft petals tipped with white — Fringed pathway to its heart of grace Guide stars to St. John's night! Rising by steps from ooze and sUme, Our wearied thought may trace By slow development of time To pomp and pride of place This low-born flower, through patient years, From first green spear we see The perfect vision of the seers. The regal fleur-de-lis ! Our Flag! far flung, its field of blue Star-gemmed, all glorified. Red-striped, reminding me and you, Forefathers bled and died, Page thirty-eight STARVED ROCK That they and we from servile place, Lowly as this flag-flower, By right to be and by God's grace StSiTid first, a world-wide power! STARVED ROCK All nature is glorious this May, The cherry is blooming today, The river is flowing so still. Sweet violets purple the hill Where the red man took his last stand With courage so splendidly grand; The full-throated birds cheer with song Where bravely they fought for so long, A nation yet echoes the shock Of the tragedy dire at Starved Rock! And children may play 'mong the flowers. The earth be refreshed with spring showers, A fair table be spread for us here With most hospitable cheer; Not all of these sights and sweet sounds That charm in these pastoral grounds Can from memory ever dispel The horror of what here befell; The bloodthirsty savage will mock The peace we would seek at Starved Rock. Page thirty-nine LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE Young lovers who seek this retreat In whisperings low will repeat, On the banks of this beautiful river, As soft petals fall and leaves quiver, While up from the thicket will float The wail of the whippoorwill's note, The story oft told and yet new Of lost braves and dusky mates true. Sweet lips will grow pale and hands lock, As moonbeams fall chill on Starved Rock. The strife, the wild passions of men, Today are the same they were then, The weak to the stronger must yield, Life itself but a fierce battlefield. As we rest by the calm lUinois, These moments, but brief, we employ To rehearse, in the simplest of rhyme, These tales of an earlier time. The whistle calls shrill from the dock, We wave au revoir to Starved Rock! Page forty ''ON TO MEXICO'' "ON TO MEXICO'^ Hear the call, one and all, Rings the shout, right about. Battle-cry "to Mexico!" Our grandsires lit these fires, You can bet they burn yet! Off we go "to Mexico!" Boys today march their way Sweethearts dear through tears cheer! Hard to go — "to Mexico!" Friends away weep and pray, Hearts will break for the sake Of brave boys in Mexico! Should we fall at this call. Comrades come — muffled drum! Bear us home from Mexico! "Forward all!" great and small. Far and near, shout and cheer! ''Waves our flag in Mexico!'^ Page forty-one LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE THE HYPHENATED AMERICAN " By oceans divided, from pole to the line, All crafts and all callings, from banks to the mine, From homes widely distant they gather at sea. Voices tuned to one song, "The Land of the Free!" One blue bends above them, one moon silvers night, One sun gilds the dawning, stars give steadfast light. One God, all name Father, one mother the Earth, Yet each loveth best the land of his birth. All sorrow, one sorrow, humanity's pain Moans over their heart-chords in minor refrain. In prosperity's hour joy brightens each eye, Hand clasps hand of brother, to live, or to die! In far lands, bravely sought, that twin oceans lave. Shall the star that allured pale dim o'er Hope's grave ? They come down the mountains, they sing with the sea. Whose dim caverns murmur, ''The Land of the Free." Page forly-two WORK OUT YOUR OWN SALVATION WORK OUT YOUR OWN SALVATION Not with crouching, servile fear, Our God made man erect, Eagle-eyed, wide-visioned, clear. To imagine, to reflect! Degradation of the past Leave thou where fell the chains. Fight! with back against the mast, Death to the brave remains! Work! The base of God's wise plan, Scorn not a brother's aid. But side by side, man to man, Helpful and unafraid! The mills of God grind slowly, Wait patiently on him Who was the meek and lowly, Till morning stars fade dim! Then shall dawn the perfect day, One blood be all the earth — Still, his charge, "Watch thou and pray," Thus rise to the new birth. Page forty-three LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE FLAG DAY FOR SCHOOL CHILDREN To the June breeze unfurl Bright ''flower-flag" of our land! Striped red as heroes blood, White, peace, for which we stand! Blue depths arched above us, Pierced stars radiate through, Three cheers for grand ''Old Glory"! The red, the white, the blue! Our standard, wreathed with flowers Gathered by children's hands, Blossoms from every clime Join with the martial bands, And sing in tunes exultant Of courage, hope, and joy, And faith this loyal day That naught our peace destroy. Our guide, our guard, our glory, Appeal, oh, deep and strong, To loftiest sense of honor. Triumphant, patriot song ! Our pledge renewed this day, Encircled hand in hand, 'Our fortunes, sacred honor, Our lives," to flag and land! Page forty-four WHEN IRELAND IS A COALING STATION! WHEN IRELAND IS A COALING STATION! REPLY TO GERMAN BOAST THAT THEY WOULD "mAKE IRELAND A COALING STATION ON THEIR WAY TO AMERICA!" In this our year of grace, Storm waves from the North Sea Strike far Hibernia, Wild shrieks the pale Banshee! Hist! Invading Hun, Above your warship's roar Hear "Wearin' of the Green" Ring out from Celtic shore! When Irish loyal blood Has filled her valleys till Her craggy mountain tops Are pierced with sanguine rill, When strong arms of her sons Lie bleached and stiff and stark, Her round towers to dust crumbled, Proud "Tara's Halls" are dark, Blarney stone deep buried, The stirring harp unstrung. From minstrel lips no more Sweet Gaelic songs are sung. When Ireland's fair daughters No more her sons do wed, Shandon's bells peal dirges When shamrock wreathes her dead, Page forty-five LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE While seers read the stars The deep sea guards the land! On the "ould sod" her sons, Defiant freemen, stand! St. Patrick holds the cross Before their dying eyes, The sign of victory. Heroic sacrifice! A REAL DAUGHTER OF 1812 Stately at eighty-two As her northern pine. Wearing her silver crown, Pledge of her loyal line ! Eagle-eyed, keen-sighted. Proudly she looketh back On sire, "the last to cross the bridge '* Of fire-walled Saranac. O Pittsburgh's yeoman band, That turned the tide of war. We kneel to press thy laurel. Pride of Champlain's shore! And should the bay leaves flutter • Upon the autumn breeze. Most fitting that they fall On "Daughters" such as these! Page forty-six MEMORIAL DAY MEMORIAL DAY 1861-1916 Comrades, we have lived too long, You fill a soldier's honored grave; Righteous the cause, unsuUied name Bore the proud land you died to save. Our eagle perched on lofty pine, Clear-eyed, from mountain heights descried Far battle lines of fallen men — Would God that we with them had died! Broken in spirit, weak of heart. Snow-topped, with feeble hands we bear The tattered and the bloodstained flag You flung out free to martial air! Comrades, our sky is overcast — Dishonored in an alien land Our children's children bite the dust And none reach out a saving hand! Tears fall today from our dim eyes Upon your star-marked, flower-decked grave, We live too long who live to see The country that you died to save Jeered and scoffed by lesser men. Its faith reviled, flouted its name! Comrades, bowed beneath the flag. In its frayed folds we hide our shame. Page forty-seven LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE MADONNA LILIES Unto the Queen of Heaven bring White chaUce as her virgin thought: Cast at her feet your offering Of gift of gold as wise men brought From East, star-led, to infant king! Let incense of your fragrance rise, Borne on the morning winds To the arched blue of these fair skies Bearing our earth-dross sin's Accepted sacrifice! But tenderly at bed of pain Be sentinels to guard The stricken there who, sighing, fain Would whisper what of sin has marred Humanity's refrain. Be angels' chosen emblem still. As dews of Hermon cooling fall! Your silver trumpet cadence fill Ears tuned to each responsive call With seraph music thrill. Page forty-eight WHITE CARNATIONS WHITE CARNATIONS FOR MOTHERS* DAY Your spicy fragrance from the land Where zephyrs rocked the cradle of the race Inspires our song, and tempts our hand To pluck and place you in our memory vase. In other land, a bleaker clime, By sheltered sun-kissed picket fence There grew, delight of childhood's time. Fair, pretty pinks, kind nature's recompense In stripe and color, for long hours Of weary watching, anxious wait For drought-dispelling summer showers — We knew e'en then the cruelty of fate! But soft-laid hand, mother's caress, Love light that shone from eyes deep blue, Clouded by mists of future stress That fell in drops refreshing as the dew, Come to us now, after long years. Sweet as this flower's white-petaled breath, And shine through showers of memory tears A mother's love, that knows no death! Page forty-nine LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE GREAT-GRANDMOTHER'S WILLOW" A young bride, when leaving her father's rooftree For a pioneer's home by a fair inland sea, With a spasm of heart and trembling of hand From thy parent tree lightly severed a wand. Then in her new home, with tenderest fears She planted with care and watered with tears This reminder of friends she might see nevermore — Oh! fate wert thou kind by Champlain's peaceful shore ? The veil none may lift from that deep-buried past — Bending low o'er her grave thy shadow is cast. We crave, when we pillow our head on earth's breast, That under her willow we too may find rest. GHOST FLOWERS INDIAN PIPES Pale visitant from some lost Eden! Why pause in muck-strewn gloom ? Why lift thy alabaster brow through heavy oak < Or low-spread juniper, mid coarser fronds Of fern or needle-pricking pine That pierce thy shrouded form Like biting sarcasm of inhuman speech ? Whilst biding in more earthly mold Some noisome vapor didst thou emanate, Fling out to vesper stars the sacrificial fumes Of some frail wandering outcast From the busier, sordid life of ant or bee ? Page fifty GHOST FLOWERS Or, at thy ripening time, bright fruitage flaunt, Hiding beneath its brilHant coat The deadly poison of thy bitter soul, Tempting the innocence of childish joy. Hushing forevermore the merry laugh. Paling sweet lips to thine own bloodlessness ? Or, were there secret sins known only to thyself and God Whose labyrinth of winding, ever downward Thou didst tread with halting step or headlong speed Until thou reachest the depths of self-abasement Where only fallen angels or a Christ may come ? And now, permitted for awhile To visit, in this pale, chill garb The earthly home, mayhap, thou lovedst full well, To lift again with dignity thy head, Glimpse sunny slope of sheep-dotted hill. Shimmering flow of broad tree-fringed stream And hear, hke fairy bells, the laughter gay Of other toddlers on life's opening way ? Whate'er thy past, whate'er today thy quest. So lovely is thy guise, so pure thy outward seeming. That thou mightst stand, pale sentinel. At the door of some dim holy shrine. Where we, of coarser clay. Should tread with sandaled feet And whisper soul-searching questionings. As Druid priest at sacred grove confessional ! Page fifty-one LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE COLUMBINE FROM BANFF Dear Mabel: when in happy hour You picked this radiant golden flower, Where, before your dazzled sight. Snow-capped mountains reared their height Against a glowing Arctic sky. How dear, that over leagues should fly Your thoughts; should kindly turn to one Who, drooped beneath a torrid sun, Where level roofs and smoke-topped spire A brain would fag, and dimmed eyes tire For green fields that her youth had known, (All days are happy that are flown) ; Who longed with yearnings unexpressed For misty vale and mountain crest. For meadows where the wild flowers grew And tall grass bent with sparkling dew; Who dreamed not in far west to twine Love, joy, or hope with Columbine! You come to me in latest years And bring a joy akin to tears (Oh, might I press that heart to mine That shared with me her Columbine) ; And other flowers to me more rare Were twined with these with tend'rest care! Within the compass of a line Will you accept a wish of mine ? Should dun clouds overshadow you, See silver linings shining through; No hands unclasped, no broken vow. May bright birds sing from each green bough! Page fifty-two PEONIES Soft be your sleep with dreams of me, The morning bring no joys that flee: May heaven's benediction rest On you and those you love the best. When you approach that farther shore, Where I've been watching long before, May light as softly on you shine As glows today from Columbine. PEONIES RED, GOLDEN, PINK, AND WHITE No shrinking, modest, woodland flower, Peering 'neath shade of Flora's bower. But regal, flaming to the sky. Proclaims, ''a royal cortege nigh." At Juno's car, stately and tall. Like sunrise's golden, fiery ball You stand, in herald's proud array. And trumpet, "Summer's on the way." In sunset shadow's paling pink, Lovelier in June twilight sink, And welcome Venus, glistening white, A vestal torch, of St. John's night. With subtle fragrance, luring bee, A fluted note, from fruitage tree; Yet, dare an idler chance to hover. Your queenly scorn smites vagrant lover. To beauty yield we right of way. Fealty to lineage pay; But sought through tears, to memory sweet, Are flowers in shadow at your feet. Page fifty-three LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE THE MORNING-GLORY EMBLEM OF MOTHER-LOVE The white frost of a still October night Had flung out battle flags of sumac fronds; The woodbine fingers, stained with sunset glow, Pointed to the cold, silver moon as warning! Low-creeping flowers clung Yet closer to fond mother earth With premonition that their life ebbed low. Ripe brown seeds rattled to dry leaves a protest That so late they lay ungathered! Through frosted windowpane We looked out on the frozen mist That like a veil lay soft O'er summer's faded glory. The sun above bronze hills, Beyond the purple lake. Through dawn's gray rift Questioned of hooded night This trail of ghostly sheen. Rise, resplendent sun! Brighten tear-dimmed eye! Despondent heart, rejoice! Above all drooping, chill forebodings A fairy trumpet chants exultant To the day god, "Good morning!" With fair, white face of childhood innocence. With soft, pink flush, purple of royal robes. With clinging tendrils, fast as mother-love to life, The morning-glory spreads its faithful heart Of unchanged greeno'er shattered hopes and broken ties. Page fifty-four SLIP PIT AW A Flower-taught as the Master bade, Untroubled for the morrow we go forth — When lo! the magic of a sunrise smile Has melted, as repentant tears, The rime and chill of Nature's variance. HIDDEN? Clouds, cover my secret, Sea, bury it deep, Earth, caverns, far hide it — Ghosts stalk while men sleep. "SLIPPIT AWA'" Today you stand on mountain height Above the mists of grief and pain; From shadowed valleys, depths of gloom, Rises triumphant strain ! With feet firm planted on the rock Of faith in God and brother-man, You climbed rough ways unfalteringly, Seeing in all His plan. This tribute from our hearts we pen: Would we might clasp your hand. Touch but your garments' hem this day Where glorified you stand ! Page fifty-five LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE ASCENSION Celestial visitant, speed on! We do not beg of thee a longer tarrying ; Too bleak our clime, grov'ling our aims, Harsh our tenderest touch to thy ethereal spirit; Our loftiest aspirations but earth mists that dimmed thy sight. Rare guest within a house of clay ! Swing wide the gates ! The many mansions Of thy Father's house glow with a joyous welcoming! Thou wert sore missed, the circle of thy family band Were broken until now — Oh, blissful reuniting! Some heavenly day (a thousand years to us), We crave thy thought, a lingering glance Across the great gulf fixed. If tears may fall Between the trellised bars of light. Drop on our seared and thirsting lives This token, that you grieve for us, Groping on through shadows of our sorrow That we no more may share the benediction of thy grace. Page fifty-six "OOR LANG SAME" "OOR LANG HAME" The years pass on till centuries go, From then till now 'tis ever so, The young from the home roof will stray, The old remain to weep and pray! Thus in an earlier time there came From Scotia's land to found a ^'hame" A stalwart man of noble mien, And maiden fair as Stuart queen. With loyal hearts and firm-clasped hands, Their vision fixed on far-off lands, Faith in their fathers' God, and then Sweet charity for fellow-men. The fragrance of their Highland heather, The glow of gorse, they two together, The joy of life, the trust of youth. No fear of woe, of coming ruth. They built into their new home wall. With rooftree wide embracing all — Who pulled the latchstring at their door. Found cup and trencher running o'er. And pledges of their love were given That made that home an earthly heaven. Time passed, then ripened sheaves once n^ore Were garnered to the Master's store. But yesterday an alien band Far from beloved Scottish land Stood at the flower-decked, open door, That, having closed, ne'er opens more! Page fifty-seven LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE Where hymns of hope, borne far above, Were tuned by voices thrilled by love, And wafted incense of a prayer Rose on the circumambient air. Who may question, who shall say When these two walked their chosen way, Left native heath for foreign strand. They were not following His command. Who led by fire through darkest night ? The cloudy pillar held the sight Of these, as of the chosen few. Who to a guiding light were true. If shattered hopes and broken ties Are the tried wings on which we rise To life immortal, we as they May bow our heads and meekly say, Thy will, not mine, O God, be done Through the vast cycles of the sun. And we, motes floating in the air. May in refulgent glory share. Though our barks sail o'er untried seas And pass the ''harbor bar," as these, We too may join those gone before Who wait us on the Heavenly Shore. Page fifty-eight THE LAST ARISTOCRAT THE LAST ARISTOCRAT Regal our lady and dark, Full-orbed — glorious ! A score of generations mark The child of sires victorious On land and sea! Heir of all bountiful grace, Intelligence fine! Her lineage proudly we trace Down to the last of her line — Saints and brave men! Sweet as the lily of France, Swift to the cry of all pain, The light of her smile would entrance. The charm of her presence remain To cheer and bless! May the light so serene on the way She walked, in affliction alone. Shine on to perpetual day. Till she stands in the light of God's throne At His right hand! Rest thee! thy summons has come! Much given and much was required; An eagle beholding the sun. To no less she aspired Than His ''well done"! Page fifty-nme LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE RESURRECTION The spring comes with the song of bird, The budding trees, the early flowers, The babbhng of the brook is heard. Soft patter of the April showers ! New life stirs to the earth's unrest. After long torpor fitful sleep; Then full awakening, confessed The secret nature dares not keep! So blind are we ! So slow to learn Our lesson of eternal things; From these way-guides we stohd turn. Groping through winters, dull to springs! She sleeps, the child of promise fair! Now you but see her resting-place; Dead to your love and fondest care, The spirit Hfe you may not trace. But in that land of shadows lies A pathway to some sun-lit height Where she, through clear ethereal skies Sees only brightness in your night, And knows your vision is but dim. Your heart but faint for love of her; You may not see beyond the rim Of time's mutations that defer The bursting of the chrysaHs, The revelation to your sight Of her supreme, unclouded bliss. Poised in that region of delight. Page sixty TRANSPLANTED The holy joy her soul must know When, from heavenly mountain peak, She smiles on verdant vale below, Bathed in the peace we fain would seek. A thousand years are but a day To those we love, beyond our ken; Ours but to weep, to trust, to pray, Theirs the new song, the grand amen! TRANSPLANTED God walked in his garden at earhest dawn, Night breezes yet whispered, brooding stars not yet gone! New life upspringing thrilled as He came. Heart to heart of each fiowerlet breathed in fragrance His name. Cool dews were yet glistening on each tiny stem, The first bird note chanted a reverent amen! A pitying glance, ah ! searchingly sweet. Fell soft on a bud drooping pale at His feet; Stooping, He breathed, as to first human child. His breath of soul life — the baby bud smiled! His messenger swift clasped earth flower to his breast, In God's sheltered garden spirit flowers blossom best. Page sixty-one LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE DIRECTOR OF THE ART INSTITUTE Oh, mystery of happenings Within the span of human Ufe! For this rare gifted man is heard In the crude West a requiem! Borne on the sorrow-laden breeze From cultured East the solemn toll For a departing soul! Unto this inland sea In his young manhood came This scion of New England stock Bearing an unblemished name, With tread as firm as Plymouth Rock! From Harvard's classic halls he brought Its garnered treasure of well-ripened thought. Not alone he gave From the full storehouse of his brain, But faith to save his fellow-man By daily vision of a life serene, All unperturbed, as fields Elysian. A new-found gospel here he sought With godlike patience to instil. And here he taught, "Art for life's sake!" Laved by the waters of Lake Michigan, Today doth stand the embodied plan That, first conceived within the mind Of this rare, gifted man, brought to its shores From those remoter lands, near East and farthest West, The finest product of skilled hands — Fit monument to Beauty, Art, and Song! Page sixty-two THE PASSING OF THE G.A.R. Long with keen appreciation Chicago will remember thee! Within the walls of their stout hearts Her uplifted sons will loyally entrench Thy well-beloved and honored name — A beacon shining through their tears, Director William M. R. French. Over his bier a requiem! Borne on the sorrow-laden breeze The measured tread, the solemn toll, For a departing soul! THE PASSING OF THE G.A.R. Lengthening shadows from the West Across the placid afternoon sped streaming! Now on the reluctant ear ''Taps" sound; A chill not of the earth or sky Creeps stealthily ! the blood, less warm Than at the noon-mark of its prime, Takes sluggishly to the foreboding heart A warning, "Night draws on apace." Ill-omened birds that over many a plain Red with the blood of fallen heroes hover. Darken the sky, and, swooping, touch With tip of wing the dew-damp brow. The muffled drum, draped flags tell to the world A mighty man hath fallen! A ray from out the galaxy of fame pierces the gloom, Guides grief -blinded eyes to where A veteran of the Civil War Hes dead. Page sixty-three LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE ''TAPS" Hero of battles! Bitter strife! Ensanguined fields, wet with blood Of brothers! With hand and heart Tender as woman's, responsive to each Human cry of pain or woe. From whence came power to ride Your charger over foes, gray lines Of men, into whose eyes had flashed Your own, with friendhest charm ? The mystery of a God, whose love, Revealed to man in scourge and Chastening, is our cryptic answer! Ride on! Ride on into red sunset glory! The night was faUing fast, we would not Have you stumble nor feel the midnight chill, But rather that the knell of "Taps" Were but the golden hinges of the door That, swinging wide at your approach, Closing, hid you to our mortal sight. Left you, with your fine "salute," Before your loved Commandant. Page sixty-four DOCTOR J. B. MURPHY DOCTOR J. B. MURPHY DEATH TRIUMPHANT Ride fast, Pale Horse! Fling from your sharp hoofs All human skilled endeavor. Snort swift lightnings, you have need; Long he has outdistanced you, Left you lagging, gaunt, Biting the dust! This is your day. Your triumphant hour ! Shriek with Judean mob, "Others he saved, himself He cannot save!" The aged Hnger, waihng. The children weep for him. Mausoleum peace infolds him. The solemn rites of church and state Guard him reverently! The fragrant memory of His daily walk and conversation Mingles with palms and lilies ! What you can take, O Death! Is dust and ashes. The white flame of his spirit Mounts to God who gave it. Page sixty-five LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE THE SCULPTOR CHARLES J. MULLIGAN Gods of the North hammer uplifted, Mountains quaked ! The rocks brought forth Full armored, as proud daughter of high Zeus, This master- worker that today we mourn! Of mold heroic, stalwart of limb. Face chiseled by fine thought. Polished by love of fellow-man; Tender his touch and soft as woman's, Yet firm to clasp of friend. Merry of heart, benignant as the sun! Today the first spring bird pipes moaning. The verdant turf, the violet chalice brimming dew, The simple things he loved, creeping, cover Unquarried granite fain to guard his grave. And we, in this our stricken hour, kneel And with bared head share with these their grief. Think not, O friend! that earth decay shall claim him; In secret alchemy of Nature's spacious shop Mysterious change is wrought! They who come after us Shall seek, and, delving, find in perfect beauty, Finest marble, jasper, and the onyx stone, And permeating all, his spirit. Who, being loved of gods, died young. Page sixty-six JAMES WEITCOMB RILEY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY REQUIEM On vibrant strings, to vagrant winds He voiced his soul of song ! Of birds and bees in rhythmic lines He sang, painting along Sweet country roads wise magic signs. Night-shelter oft of simple folk At wayside door he sought; With supple hand, with cunning stroke, Twin arts of song and color wrought, Quaint harmonies awoke. Then, echoing to the marts of men Homeric strophes charmed ears, That pulsed and thrilled, that once again Chorus and chime, laughter and tears, Flowed from a master-pen ! The song is hushed, the strings are still, There rustles through the corn A moan, foreboding autumn chill, Of "Frost upon the pumpkin" borne By dirges from Crown Hill! Page sixty-seven LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE BOOKER T. WASHINGTON THE LEADER OF HIS PEOPLE On Pisgah's mount he stood, Far stretched the Promised Land, Beneath lay the vast camp Of Israel's stricken band! From the Nile-watered sands, Red Egypt's grain-gold fields, To Pharaoh's royal throne. Vain agonized appeals. Crushed spirit, darkened soul. Stunted brain, the dower From brutal servitude, Weak, regenerate power! Back to Sinai's crest. To that appalling night When God spake from out cloud, Hidden from mortal sight! The wilderness, the years. The struggle, the uplift. Faith slowly wakening. Through gloom — a rift! As mists before his gaze The years pass as a scroll, In light Divine he sees Futurity unroll! Page sixty-eight THE MYSTERY MANSION' With steadfast eye he views The way he may not tread, But knoweth well, another Will follow where he led! So, trustful lays him down Upon that toil-won height, There, with his God, alone, He passeth from man's sight. "THE MYSTERY MANSION'' Through lichened branches of time-blackened elm A gray-white mansion's turret roof, As scion of some usurped realm. Stands dark, in dignity aloof! The bronze-green shutters' splintered slats By fine-spun cobwebs hang; At musty rain holes peer gaunt cats, The sagging doors the moor winds bang ! Grim sentinels, tall chimneys stand Against the sunset's afterglow; And veiling soft the untilled land Lies a thin mantle of first snow! Through garret window's unglazed sash, A tarnished mirror's crinkled face Catches a meteor's space-spent flash. Reveals brocade and yellowed lace. A haunting glance of joy-wrecked youth, Proud memories that never die. Of brave men's valor, woman's truth, Of graves where faith and promise lie! Page sixty-nine LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE Forsaken and deserted home! So soon the generations pass Who knew thy story, why they roam, Whose anguish clouds the ancient glass ! How dare our stranger eyes to seek What kindly nature veils from sight. Why bid the stocks and stones to speak, Why bare time's mysteries to light ? Mystery mansion," honored be. Die, as you long have lived, apart, The pain of you, across the sea. Abides within our grief-sealed heart! "UNCLE SILAS" We miss, where daily up and down. He walked the streets of his home town; His smile so kind, his greeting true. This stalwart man of "Old Peru"! We no more shall hear the cry As wheels rumble, passing by At early morning or at dark, "There goes Uncle Silas Clark!" Rounded his years, life's utmost span. He filled his niche in God's wise plan, His good name honored down the years, His grave kept green by memory's tears! Page seventy WEDDING BELLS TOLLED WEDDING BELLS TOLLED I brought my bride to my father's house With first stirring of spring's new hfe In the heart of our old mother earth, Swung wide the gates to greet my wife, So gaily we passed in ! The joy of youth and love was ours, The softened air, the skies more blue, A chirp of bird in distant wood. Our hands were clasped, our hearts beat true, We knew no doubt nor fear. Time's cycle of the rounded year Brought hope and cheer to man: The bud, the flower, the ripened fruit. Presaging life's allotted span Of threescore years and ten. There is a chill in springtime air. Mists are rising, heaven's less bright, A moan where laughter rang out clear, Our sunrise shading into night, A dimming of loved eyes! Now closed the door of my father's house, 'Tis hushed where my young wife lies In her bridal robes ! Wide portals swing Of our Father's house, beyond the skies, Her soul is passing in! Page seventy-one LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE ''SHE HATH DONE WHAT SHE COULD" Long lines of honest folk gave birth To sterling virtues, common-sense, Words well watched, judgment reserved, Broad charity for the offense. The ceaseless round of daily cares Began nor ended with the sun, Yet with a smile for happy thought. The timely joke, the pointed pun! The latchstring hanging out the door. Though pulled full oft by vagrant hand That closed upon unstinted dole. Spelled ''vv^elcome" to the roving band. But chosen friend worthy a place Within the shelter of her tent. Warmed by the glow of her wide hearth. The cheer her kindly presence lent, Lingering on threshold, looking back. Felt he had known that rarest thing. Communion with congenial soul, A memory without a sting ! At bed of pain, neighbor's sore stress Found capable and ready hand. The faith that courage gave, and hope A bridge across time's chasm spanned. The sunht hills, the sparkling brook. The sweeping meadows, orchards' bloom, Shall fill no more her spirit's needs. Folded her hands in restful tomb ! Page seventy-two HEART-CRY SEPTEMBER SIXTEENTH For us, belief that smile of God Did welcome her where labors end ; Where Marys and tried Marthas meet And each knows Jesus for her Friend. HEART-CRY SEPTEMBER SIXTEENTH FOLGER All days are years without you! Tell me in that life apart from mine There still is consciousness Of the strong tie that bound us ! Today I strew with flowers And wet with tears your grave. Page seventy-three LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE EASTER GREETING Across the leagues we greet you, friend, In thought, this Easter Day! May sunUt skies, music's upUft, Sweet flowers cheer your way ! May incense from some holy fane Rise with your prayer and song. And may you glimpse a much-loved face Amid the passing throng ! Should memory waves in unison With charm of this rare day Stir thought of us and bring a smile Mid all the proud array. We shall be happy in your joy And bless you as you pray; Join in glad hallelujah song, ''Christ is risen today!" THE FIRST EASTER THE WOMEN AT THE TOMB Sleepless had been the night, Fears and forebodings rife; The future loomed heavy with dread. Dead was the Lord of Life! Dripping the gray mist hung Above the Kedron's trees. And vigil stars of the far east Sank pale in western seas ! Page seventy-four THE FIRST EASTER But now, Moriah's rim Is lined above the gloom And women, watchful for some sign, Wend early to the tomb. Through spring chill of the dawn. Trembling, alert from fear The Roman watch and prowling bands Might yet be Kngering near. Through olives gray they peer Where to their tear-dimmed sight A haloed form, like to the Lord's, Irradiates the night! Responsive chords of love Thrill to a memory wave. The sun, gilding Judea's hills. Reveals an empty cave! And light that never shone On land or shimmering sea Lit that new tomb! The Marys cried, ^'Rabboni! Art thou He?" The veil is rent! No more Mourn we our pain or loss With Sharon's rose, with lilies fair We deck the thorn-crowned cross! Page seventy-five LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE ADELE FRANCES Latest flower of sunny France, Why came you in November gray ? What is there by this inland sea To lead your little feet our way ? Heard you the boom of cannon loud, The rattling of the musketry. Saw searchlights sweep across the sky. The huge swells of ships under sea ? And thought a neutral soil to find, A haven safe from wars and strife, Where sheltered in some homey nest You might begin to ^'live your life" ? Whate'er your thought or baby plan. We welcome you, and bless the day That led you, with your Titian hair And twinkling eyes, to come and stay! Lilies of France are drooping now, Their gold has taken sanguine hue, But saddest of sad hours were hers When baby Frances waved adieu! Page seventy-six VIRGINIA VIRGINIA BORN COLUMBUS DAY Proud virgin, England's Queen! Homage we yield to thee From far new western land, Fairest Virginia! Over uncharted seas. In bark as frail as thine (Daring, fair voyager). Guided by love divine. On this thy natal day. With eager, raptured sight Columbus, out from mists, Visioned safe harbor light! Stretch out thy tiny hands To England's white-cliff ed shore; United, North and South, A child leads as of yore! Spread white wings over seas. Poise dove of peace on mast. Home and hearth are haven, Virginia, anchor cast! Page seventy-seven LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE A MERRY CHRISTMAS From fireside warmth, o'er snowy drifts, Glad greetings from our hearts we send ! Though Christmas bring us choicest gifts. We cherish most, today, a friend. THE FIRST CHRISTMAS A holy hush ! A solemn Syrian night Trembling with expectation ! From out the starry spheres a light Shone where a young child lay. Triumphant dawn beamed on a new creation. And it was Christmas Day. Page seventy-eight THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS *'and she brought forth her first-born and laid HIM IN A manger" One early winter night, beneath a Syrian sky Of wondrous blue, the full moon riding high. Within its straw-lined, moss-edged, cedar bed, A wakeful bossy to its patient mother said: ''Tonight I saw, up through a chink in our rude stable, The brightest star! As well as I was able, I raised myself up on my bended knees. And peering out through branches of bare cypress trees, Most pitiful the sight I saw. Slowly adown the hill, Across the valley, stepping through the rill, Something I saw, most unlike unto thee. Yet in my dream, it seemed, somewhat like me. With dignity, but with great care it strode. That no false step might fright so fair a load! Above, there rose a face, flushed like the earliest dawn. But now, with pain, the pale sweet lips were drawn. And from appeaUng eyes drops fell like morning dew. And great surprise was there! Now this I tell to you. To ask, if for the taxing they be come this way. Spent travelers, seeking shelter, rest, or hay ? Do you not hear strange footsteps near our door, A moan and pleadings we may not ignore "^ '? Quick, mother! Let Her have my bed And I will lie upon the floor instead. Or go out on the hill among the sheep. There, watching that bright star, shall have no wish to sleep! And I shall hear a lullaby, earth never heard before;^ As I pass out, my mother, please softly close the door." Page seventy-nine LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE THE NEW YEAR Heart throbs swell the requiem; brave men lying dead, Earth-clods at their feet, snow-wreaths at their head; For widows and orphans unsheltered, unfed, Strained eyes seeing ever glazed eyes of their dead! Through pitiless hours of the long winter nights Unsheathed flash the blades of the cold "northern lights"! We bid thee chill welcome, thou incoming year, The shrieking of shells deadens chimes to our ear; The hands of our loved ones we clasp in despair As Death rides his car through highways of the air! Oh ! God of the stricken, Thy children of earth. Plead not of the New Year for laughter of mirth ! But grant that our faith dies not with the year, Sound the paeans of peace to our long-listening ear! Made pure by blood-washings, fair cleansed may we raise The morning-star hymn to the Ancient of Days! Page eighty THE KNIGHTS VIGIL THE KNIGHT'S VIGIL PAINTING BY JOHN PETTIE, R.A. The "golden age of chivalry," men wail, Has passed, with cycles of the earth! No more men kneel for accolades — Bowed, grovel in the turf. Rise not above the spade! No vigil keep in dim church aisle, they tell, On chill stone slab through night. Above sire sepulchered below. That with first golden shaft of light Their consecrated arms might glow. Nor charges given now, "Be thou good knight"; We parley not nor contradict — let be The days of eld, the better days alway; What men most look for that they see. So only that, they too, both watch and pray! The "age of chivalry" has passed, truth tell, But on that cornerstone, sunk deep, Remaineth, towering, undimmed by time, The beacon fires that nightly vigils keep. And painters limn and poets essay rhyme. Page eighty-one LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE RETROSPECT Long buried 'neath the dust of time We bring to light a girlhood rhyme, And read again a tale long told, With eyes tear-dimmed and heart grown cold, Of the dear ones of our home band! Through spaces vast, from other land, We see them gathered close once more. Softly they enter the wide door. Startled they gaze on each loved face. Seeking, yet sadly fail to trace The image they have carried long In memory, through stranger throng, Pictured in hours of weary pain The forms they ne'er might see again! They vanish, ghostly as they came. These fantasies of fevered brain! Why yield to gloom ? somehow, some way We have fulfilled our destiny ! Though never here, in shadow-land Speech answers speech and hand clasps hand, Somewhere unite the old home ties. The bond that time and death defies. Page eighty-two INSPIRATION INSPIRATION My star is set in the vast firmament! Meteor-like it blazed across my vision, Blinded my earth-born sight, Radiated to the four points that compass being, And in between ghttered on each sentient nerve. Welled up the currents of my life Until each wave reflected all desire, Hope, illusions, passions, and ambitions; Then fading, left my soul, my heart. Even the breath of life within me, Stranded upon the shore of fate. Gazing spent into that blank abyss Wherein my star, engulfed, is lost to me forever Page eighty-three LIFE-VOYAGE VERSE MEMORY DAY Not of slaughter of the wars, Not of men with mark of Cain, Not of devastated homes, Unscythed fields, ungarnered grain! Memory turns our wandering steps To where our snow-crowned parents lie, In graves flower-strewn with tenderest care, Beneath this mild September sky! To brothers, sisters, who at rest. Free of the world's turmoil and strife. Entered upon wider spheres, Attaining to the perfect life! Pained afresh the mother's breast. From which the tender babe was torn, But daisies here, asphodels there, Smile as they greet each heavenly morn! The stranger that within your gates Rendered his shriveled soul to God — Remember, but for pitying grace, Our graves may be but weed-grown sod! Each unto his own give tears, And in God's acre kneel and pray, Forgetting not the absent ones Whose thoughts are with you ''Memory Day." Page eighty-four GRAND ISLE, VERMONT GRAND ISLE, VERMONT Oh, youth and moonhght, a quiet boat ride, A still summer night, drifting out with the tide! Did the leaves quiver down by the shore. Or pale muses shiver that men woo them no more ? Saw ye the smiling of Grand Isle's emerald shore. In tradition beguihng should ye love tales of yore ? Weird are the tales that they tell winter nights, That chill the blood cold, the stout heart affrights! "By a storm that rent heaven from rock-riven earth" To the red man was given to see a new birth! At sunset Champlain paled smooth to the sight! *'To Vert Mont a daughter was born that wild night.'" Thus our ancestral lands rose to greet their first morn — Brave men with skilled hands of fierce throes are oft born! Gray, mossy script marks a time-sunken grave Of a brain that was keen, a hand skilled to save I Returning, the skiff grinds the white-pebbled shore, Spent waves lap the beach — our musings are o'er! Now leagues lie between us — our tears fall the while, That no bard sings thy story, historic Grand Isle. Note. — In American Traditions may be found this Indian legend. In earlier times the islands, now known as South Hero, North Hero, and Grand Isle, were not visible in Lake Champlain. After a night of terror, heavy rains, electric storms, and seismic shocks, these islands were distinctly outHned above the water. Being nearer the Vermont than the New York shore, they were justly claimed to belong to the eastern shore. The Barnes family for many generations have lived on Grand Isle, five in direct line being physicians. Page eighty-five