Class jM^iLtl 
 
 v1 
 
 GopightN^ HA. 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 
 
CRUMPLED LEAVES 
 
Crumpled Leaves 
 
 Verse 
 
 By 
 
 CHRISTINE HAMILTON WATSON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 JAMES T. WHITE & CO. 
 
 1921 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1 92 1 
 JAMES T. WHITE & CO. 
 
 JUL 22 '21 
 
 ©GIA622139 
 
AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
 
 to 
 
 MINERVA GILLETTE STACY WILKIN 
 
 As blossoms spring to brighten, dot and strew 
 Our daily path, so friendship has bestoived 
 Its tender cheer and balm upon the road, 
 
 For friendship is the flower's heart and thew. 
 
 IV e love these blossoms of the way! Those who 
 Loz'e us — to zvhom a wealth of joy is oived — 
 With zvitchery release our dreary load 
 
 And give an inspiration, dear, like you. 
 
 We roam among the friendship-blossoms fine 
 In deep delight : held by their fragrancy 
 
 We zi'orship ivorth as at a sacred shrine, 
 And touch some velvet beauty reverently. 
 
 From you, dear friend, round me, each time I passed, 
 
 A rare, pervading perfume seemed to last. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PROEM 13 
 
 EVENING RHAPSODY 15 
 
 FROST FOLIAGE 19 
 
 SAILING 21 
 
 CHEER 23 
 
 CONTENT 24 
 
 RETROVERSION 25 
 
 WILD-WIND 26 
 
 WHITHER ? 28 
 
 IMPEDIMENTS 29 
 
 AGE-OLD DOORWAYS 30 
 
 THE COMMON QUEST 31 
 
 DREAM DAYS ^^ 
 
 SQUAW WINTER 34 
 
 MY NAMESAKE 35 
 
 BUNNY BOY 35 
 
 MYSELF AWAY 38 
 
 FOR AN INVALID 39 
 
 RESTRAINT 40 
 
 IRON CROSSES 42 
 
 "oRA PRO nobis"' 43 
 
 IN THE BREAKERS 44 
 
 MIND UNREST 45 
 
 INTERVALS 45 
 
 EASTER IN A HOSPITAL 47 
 
 ALONG THE WAY 49 
 
 CHILD-FAITH 50 
 
 VOICES 5J 
 
CONTENTS— Continued 
 
 DOUBT 52 
 
 COME WITH ME 53 
 
 A BORROWED BOOK 54 
 
 A king's GARDEN 55 
 
 MY neighbor's garden 57 
 
 MY garden is my THEATRE 60 
 
 MAY TIME 63 
 
 an interlude 65 
 
 the messenger 67 
 
 so you are light to me 68 
 
 "'will-o'-the-wisp'" 69 
 
 a camp-fire long ago 70 
 
 WAITING 71 
 
 love's request 72 
 
 love's answer 73 
 
 the absent one 74 
 
 your shadow 75 
 
 the phantom of fear 76 
 
 the garden of love 77 
 
 reaction 78 
 
 to a brook 79 
 
 transition 84 
 
 the winds of the dawning 85 
 
 THE fairies' picnic 86 
 
 OLD SONGS RONDEAU 87 
 
 RONDEL OF GRATITUDE 88 
 
 THE LIGHT 89 
 
 A BALLADE OF DOERS • 90 
 
CONTENTS— Continued 
 
 "coup de grace'^ 92 
 
 far as the dream of space 93 
 
 summer rain 94 
 
 a golden day 95 
 
 to a november rose 96 
 
 WISHES 97 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF THE PRAIRIE 98 
 
 A CITY PASSING GLIMPSE 99 
 
 TO A NIGHTHAWK ON THE WING 100 
 
 SOUND FROM SILENT NIGHT 101 
 
CRUMPLED LEAVES 
 
PROEM 
 
 The crumpled leaves of last year's summer day 
 Are wind-swept now and torn by careless feet ; 
 Like battered old beliefs that strew the way, 
 Their worthlessness is scorned in wise conceit : 
 Yet once, consider, once they were alive ! 
 And for a season, joyous to adorn, — 
 Contented idly to adorn, nor strive 
 For greatness — through their life new joy was 
 
 born. 
 And so a whispering grace lives in my heart 
 Through their achievement. Tho their year has 
 
 ^fled 
 Its never ending day remains apart, 
 And crumpled leaves, wind-blown afar and dead, 
 May still, upon life's keyboard rustling, play 
 A soothingly detached and minor lay! 
 
 13 
 
CRUMPLED LEAVES 
 
 EVENING RAHPSODY 
 
 The clay is nearing night, 
 
 And I, alcne. 
 
 Lured by the tender evening light — 
 
 Within my garden watch its flight. 
 
 The twiHght's calm and power atone 
 
 For hours of dazing gladness : 
 
 Day's heartache, day's brief madness, 
 
 Are gone and thoughts grow firefly-white. 
 
 The sod beneath my feet 
 
 Ls soft as evening's hush 
 
 And dew's caress : 
 
 Gleaming flower petals crush 
 
 Their scented sweet — 
 
 Their honeyed hearts — and press 
 
 Each other and the drooping boughs; 
 
 While pulsing summer air endows 
 
 The senses with delight replete 
 
 To still the futile rush, — 
 
 For here I learn to fling aside 
 
 And calm desire unsatisfied. 
 
 15 
 
The pompous bumble-bee 
 
 Drifts lazily 
 
 From flower to flower, in each to dip, 
 
 For one more nectar sip 
 
 Before his day is done. 
 
 Moth wings, with fleeting camraderie 
 
 And fairy grace, alight on me. 
 
 And I, dream-startled at his fun, 
 
 Mistake the whirring humming-bird. 
 
 Which dartles by. 
 
 For vagrant sprite, unduly shy — 
 
 As tho his heart were stirred 
 
 With sly conspiracy ! 
 
 Ah, elfin forms I think I see 
 
 From hidden leaves uncurled. 
 
 Is this a real, or a wonder world? 
 
 The shadovv^s fall. 
 
 Earth's longings pall, 
 
 And to my spirit 
 
 Gently sounds a distant call — 
 
 Hark ! Hear it ! 
 
 With city's hum and hurry far away, 
 
 The murmurings of twilight come to stay ; 
 
 Silences are filled with melody, 
 
 Which nature turns to dulcet symphony 
 
 And vibrates secrets that compel 
 
 A recognition of the rune ; 
 
 16 
 
Under the woven spell 
 
 My ears discern the tune. 
 
 Even the nighthawk's blatant call 
 
 Blends wierdly, vvhimsey notes that fall 
 
 With whirr of swooping wings — 
 
 And out of discord brings 
 
 A lasting harmony. 
 
 Delphineum's cerulean blue 
 
 Is changing to a softer hue, 
 
 For, while I gaze, 
 
 The blossom tints revoke — 
 
 They seem to turn to smoke. 
 
 And mingle with the haze 
 
 To offer Nature-incense once anew. 
 
 The dusk now deeper, still descends 
 
 And lends 
 
 Mysterious subtilties to fill the soul. 
 
 And take its toll 
 
 Of quickened adoration ! 
 
 Lost in contemplation 
 
 Of the tenuous film of night. 
 
 Things tangible are taking flight, 
 
 And one by one the stars and moon progress 
 
 To lean their pure white loveliness 
 
 Upon my dazzled sight, — 
 
 To draw me hig'h and higher 
 
 17 
 
Into their realm of silver fire. 
 The earth recedes, 
 And fleeting vision leads 
 To new-born inner light. 
 
 *fc>' 
 
 God ! God is the vital heart ! 
 
 But I, too, am a part. 
 
 I feel a pounding flood 
 
 Of passion sweeping through my blood 
 
 To tell the marvel of it all — 
 
 To speak — but I am dumb ! 
 
 Thrilled l^}^ the highest call 
 
 Of Heaven's resounding roll, 
 
 Uncjuestioning, I come 
 
 And answer, soul to soul. 
 
 18 
 
FROST-FOLIAGE 
 
 The colors in the autumn seem 
 
 To flare and fill my mind 
 With all the riot of a dream, — 
 
 With conflict intertwined. 
 
 Emotions leap to answer flame 
 
 In passion unforetold. 
 Which turn the rue and trifling blame 
 
 To leaf forgotten mold. 
 
 A mass of yellow, wild delight, 
 
 Is spread before my eyes 
 Like tawny lions when in might 
 
 Their latent powers arise. 
 
 Here is the woodbine's brilliant flood 
 
 Of crimson strewn around 
 As though, in wantoness, heart's blood 
 
 Were poured upon the ground. 
 
 And there pure white anemones 
 Nod blithe and winsome faces. 
 
 Creating art by which one sees 
 Youthful, appealing graces. 
 
 19 
 
Beside them flaunts vermilHon red 
 
 Blaze-flaming with desire : — 
 Not caring what is known or spread, 
 
 It builds a funeral pyre. 
 
 The tinge of quiet purple leaf 
 
 Shames mad and garish sights. 
 And paints great pictures, clear though brief, 
 
 Which wisdom's lore unites. 
 
 But gold, gold shines above the rest. 
 
 Reflecting passing schemes : 
 The dying autumn day is dressed 
 
 In living, golden dreams. 
 
 And all this brilliant, dull, embossed. 
 
 Sad-sombre, glorious whole. 
 Is like our lives: — a touch of frost 
 
 And gold lights up the soul ! 
 
 20 
 
SAILING 
 
 A fleet of sailboats, we — 
 Blown, chartless, over life's rough sea; 
 
 And each must sail alone — 
 Adventure on from zone to zone 
 Sails trimmed or free. 
 
 The sea is bright or gray; 
 It may be calm; it may be gay 
 
 With gold on every wave : 
 But there are storms and night to brave 
 That seek their prey! 
 
 A deadly calm is worst ! 
 One is not always haply versed 
 
 In saving energy 
 Against the fell monotony 
 That sleeps, accursed. 
 
 When we are tossed by waves 
 The tossing is the part that saves; 
 
 We take the spray arace, 
 Bow-forward, fully in the face, 
 Tho Neptune raves. 
 
 21 
 
But if the winds are strong 
 Unseemly hurtling us along, 
 
 A battle is the thing — 
 The note of courage spiriting 
 Our chanty song. 
 
 When tempest, though we flee, 
 Shall hurl us shoreward ruthlessly. 
 
 Eternity looms bright 
 To guide us with its harbor light 
 Safe home from sea! 
 
 22 
 
CHEER 
 
 Upon this dismal, murky day, 
 I heard the note of a chickadee 
 
 BHthely sound this roundelay — 
 
 *'The sun is shining for me — me — me !" 
 
 And as I caught the cheering sound, 
 My heart rose over the chilling mist 
 
 To match the high light it had found. 
 The sun is shining; I, too, insist! 
 
 23 
 
CONTENT 
 
 Contentment rarely comes without the pang 
 
 Of birth to life: 
 The wisdom of experience must hang 
 
 On calm and strife. 
 
 Stem pain as well as cherished pleasure's glow 
 
 Is Heaven sent, — : 
 For Joy and Grief must join to make us know 
 
 Their child, Content. 
 
 24 
 
RETROVERSION 
 
 The ocean beats in thunderous waves 
 
 Upon the shore, 
 And so my heart, tumultuous, beats, 
 
 As at your door. 
 
 The surf-wave, spent, recedes along 
 
 The beach -wide shelf. 
 And I, too, baffled, shrink away 
 
 Within myself ! 
 
 25 
 
WILD-WIND 
 
 Wild-wind, inhuman and unkind ! 
 It writhes and moans, is never still 
 And with a gust, in wrath designed, 
 Attempts, mob-like, to have its will. 
 
 Roaring, swirling in reckless might, 
 It flings defiance to mankind; 
 It makes me long to turn in flight,— 
 This unrelenting blasting wind. 
 
 Untamed, aggressive, fierce and coarse. 
 
 It rudely hisses in my ears; 
 
 It bends my faith with brutal force 
 
 And breaks its strength against my fears. 
 
 I brave the wild tempestuous storm, 
 But find my courage torn to bits; 
 I fight the unrestrained vague form, 
 Yet will not coward-like cry quits. 
 
 Why such remorseless ways, O wind! 
 Is it the world's returned unrest, 
 Which forces calm to seethe and find 
 Such brutal strength, such wanton zest? 
 
 26 
 
Or does the surging, restless wind 
 
 War with the "still small voice" and prove 
 
 The apotheosis of the mind — 
 
 The Godlike strength of truth and love? 
 
 Though sufferings and storms infuse 
 Their searching questions into me, 
 Though fearful winds I would not choose, 
 They help — not harm — humanity. 
 
 Oh life, so tossed and tempest-blind, 
 So at the mercy of storm's dole, 
 Your lessons come and thus I find 
 A raging gale may brace the soul. 
 
 27 
 
WHITHER? 
 
 Whither away 
 
 Fleet bird, so gay? 
 
 You flit across the evening sky — 
 
 Where and why? 
 
 Soft wind that blows, 
 
 You come, who knows 
 
 Whence! And what message do you send 
 
 To earth's far end? 
 
 Why are you here, 
 
 night moth near — 
 
 Are you a spirit born anew? 
 
 1 wonder who ! 
 
 Oh, evening star 
 
 You circle far! 
 
 And like my soul — ^beyond the hither 
 
 I question — Whither? 
 
 28 
 
IMPEDIMENTS 
 
 Our yielding lives drift hampered 
 By trivial things that we must do ! 
 
 God at our feet — 
 
 Yet we must eat ! 
 And we are, oh, so pampered 
 That we grow hardened — I and you, 
 
 Our aims are vain or groundless 
 For we are held by things we see. 
 
 Our bodies — Oh 
 
 Let them go! 
 Can we not find the boundless. 
 Since now it is eternity? 
 
 29 
 
AGE-OLD DOORWAYS 
 
 From out of Life's wide window, 
 
 In Age's little house, 
 I saw a pathway winding 
 
 To a tempting gay carouse. 
 
 There was a door wide open, 
 
 To prove that I could go ; 
 But when I turned my footsteps 
 
 I saw dead ashes blow ! 
 
 Alas, that open doorway 
 Bewildering with its view! 
 
 To feel the lure beyond it — 
 
 And not, and not pass through! 
 
 Yet T would rather see it, 
 And yield no step to win, 
 
 Than never know the brilliance 
 From a shuttered black within. 
 
 30 
 
THE COMMON QUEST 
 
 I hunted for my Happiness — 
 
 Hunted untiring, here and there ! 
 
 I ran along far roadways where 
 
 I thought I saw her velvet dress 
 
 Or caught the tinge of love kissed hair. 
 
 I searched on day's high mountain plot. 
 Through dusky star-lit deep of night; 
 I even sought where fancy-flight 
 Sees phantom threads of hope unknot 
 And each retreat I probed outright. 
 
 With haste I took life's proffered lure 
 And went to every splendid fete ; 
 In festal garments, far and late 
 I hunted, hunted to secure 
 The gift her powers irradiate. 
 
 And sometimes when I turned my eyes 
 I seemed to see her raptured face. 
 And other times in passioned place 
 I felt with clinging swift surprise 
 Her wonder webs of filmy lace. 
 
 But when she wore her finest gown, 
 The gown of flowing flaming white 
 Made pure with iridescent light. 
 
 31 
 
She fled from me, o'er heath and down 
 And left me craving nearer sight. 
 
 At last with baffled hope and torn 
 By jagged pain, I gave the cry — 
 *'Now home, the search to crucify!" 
 And there within that sHghted bourne 
 My highest Happiness stood by. 
 
 32 
 
DREAM-DAYS 
 
 Some days we see beyond the reach of wind ! 
 Tho born within the body's prison case, 
 Or wrapped in fogs of circumstance, the mind 
 Can rise and, winging, soar afar in space. 
 
 Perchance the eyes find but a sorry dream 
 And, Hke the swooping nighthawk after food, 
 The spirits sink, then catch the proffered gleam 
 Of hope and rise again in quest of good. 
 
 Sometimes the days are happiest when so 
 The spirit-eyes are freed, — when will-o'-the-wisp 
 From shadowed space upflares and, awed, we 
 
 know 
 The harmonies that phantom tongues can lisp. 
 
SQUAW WINTER 
 
 When I looked up, the other day, 
 
 I saw the sky all darkly gray, 
 Except what seemed to be a stage. 
 
 What could lits brilliant light presage? 
 I questioned what it was about, 
 
 But answers, each, were put to rout, 
 Until the secret's edge was limned, 
 
 Precisely as the light was dimmed ! 
 
 Then suddenly I saw, as flirts, 
 
 A million billowy ballet skirts ; — 
 Tier on tier, tiptoe, hand in hand, 
 
 Swayed, twisted, turned a cloudlet band. 
 Hie prima donna led the rest, 
 
 -\Iost daintily with swansdown dressed. 
 And then the others scudded out 
 
 Trained ready for the dance, no doubt. 
 
 W^ith that the grayish curtain fell, 
 
 And in the air, from hill to dell. 
 Some fluffy flakes were shaken down, 
 
 From each soft white and cloudy gown. 
 At last the secret, then, was out — 
 
 First snow was scattered all about ! 
 It was Squaw Winter's pretty play, 
 
 Preceding Indian Summer's day. 
 
 34 
 
MY NAMESAKE 
 
 Dear little girl with the bronzy curl, 
 
 I am thinking of you, to-day — 
 Your eyes nut-brown and the fluttering down 
 
 Of your soft and tender way. 
 
 You darling thing, I long to sing, 
 
 Because you are blithe and gay. 
 And you — so sweet, with tripping feet, 
 
 Can lead my world this day. 
 
 I feel you hear and enfold you, dear, 
 
 In my longing, wistful arms. 
 And when you come so frolicsome. 
 
 You vanquish life's alarms. 
 
 You own my heart — not just a part. 
 
 And you love me, I know. 
 To me there's bliss in your sweet kiss 
 
 That m,akes my heart's blood flow. 
 
 35 
 
"BUNNY BOY" 
 
 Dear tiny boy with eyes of blue 
 
 And mischievous, alkiring smile, 
 I long to watch yon each day through 
 To see the winsome things you do. 
 
 And let your artful ways beguile. 
 
 I love your darling little self ; 
 
 Your constant pitter-pat of feet 
 As you pursue your chosen pelf : 
 You know your power, you roguish elf, 
 
 With glances charmingly discreet ! 
 
 Your chatter has the dearest sound ; 
 
 To be grown up you bravely try. 
 You're such a treasure, I have found 
 That no one counts with you around. 
 
 And cares develop wings and fly. 
 
 Although big brothers in their play 
 
 Give thumps and bumps, you shed few tears ; 
 And when you blink the signs away, 
 A hint of manhood you betray. 
 
 Though less than two, your earth-lived years. 
 
 You seem to know so many things, 
 
 I think when you were earthward bound. 
 
Through cloud space where the sky-lark sings, 
 The Wisdom Angel with his wings 
 
 Touched you and made your thought profound. 
 
 I've loved you since you were brand new, 
 
 And when I have a baby boy — 
 (My dream eyes can possess one, too !) 
 I'll have him fashioned just like you; 
 
 Your phantom self of bounding joy. 
 
 17 
 
MYSELF AWAY 
 
 Whene'er I say — "I'm not myself to-day," 
 
 I wonder what I mean. 
 Does some bad fay come steaHng me away 
 
 And keep itself unseen? 
 
 I feel 'tis right that this uncanny sprite, 
 Which makes my soul depressed, 
 
 Should not incite within my true self flight 
 To cowardly unrest. 
 
 So I shall say that I am "out" to-day 
 
 When not what I should be; 
 I hate delay, yet surely 'tis fair play 
 
 If not myself, you see. 
 
 But why permit that creature to outwit 
 
 Or take my form and face? 
 I'll make it quit ! I will not have an "it" — 
 
 A usurper in my place ! 
 
 38 
 
FOR AN INVALID 
 
 Oh I am thankful for a room 
 
 With cozy fluffy bed, 
 Where I can pause awhile and rest 
 
 My burdened pain-bent head. 
 
 Tho pains may come and joys may flee, 
 
 Yet I can always find 
 This restful little comfort nook 
 
 Where I can tuck my mind. 
 
 The blessings of the world are big 
 Tho small they often seem; 
 
 And he is blessed who has a bed 
 Where he may sleep and dream. 
 
 And so again I give heart thanks 
 For common boons of man, 
 
 Tho idly I must watch poor Life 
 Drag Eain's dull caravan ! 
 
 39 
 
RESTRAINT 
 
 I long to roam the wide earth unrestrained, 
 To see my yearning wishes all attained, 
 To wander through the shady forest glen, 
 And feel the freedom of the world again, — 
 
 But I can knit ! 
 Long row on row, to lull the wants of me 
 And weave the liberty of life. I'm free — 
 
 For I can knit ! 
 
 I long to gain a knowledge of the earth. 
 Of men, of countries and of every worth. 
 I cannot loiter where the great and wise 
 Drop words of wonder and philosophize, — 
 
 But I can read ! 
 Books are the panacea for dull days, 
 Transforming monotones to hymns of praise, 
 
 For I can read ! 
 
 I long to see a wide expanse of sky 
 With fairy clouds, sun-burnished, floating by; 
 I long to climb and scale the dizzy height 
 To feel the wafted measure of their might, — 
 
 But I can dream! 
 I shut my eyes and all the sky possess, 
 I lose the dross of mundane ugliness. 
 
 For I can dream! 
 
 40 
 
I long to carry joy among mankind. 
 And, finding some one sorrowful of mind, 
 To give to him a comforting caress. 
 To place new hopes where battered hopes dis- 
 tress, 
 
 But I can love! 
 I'll send the waves of thought with vital verve 
 To stir the veil which hides the soul. I serve, 
 
 For I can love ! 
 
 41 
 
IRON CROSSES 
 
 Great courage and surpassing bravery, 
 
 In this world's battle, win the service cross 
 
 And praise of men. But oh, what pangs there be 
 For those who live to bear the cruel loss ! 
 
 The conflicts waged within us are so great 
 We wonder why we care to light at all. 
 
 Sometimes the clinging burdens dominate. 
 Benumb us, till we care not what befall. 
 
 What honor, glory, come through discipline 
 To waiting ones? They, battling in the soul 
 
 xA.re reaping hidden gain and strive to win — 
 Ah, through hard iron crosses — to the goal ! 
 
 42 
 
"ORA PRO NOBIS" 
 
 So vague is time! For what do we await? 
 The hours, the days, the months, the weary years 
 Drag by, their nets o'erbrimming with life's 
 
 fears. 
 How full is earth of hopeless souls whom fate 
 Has flung into the maelstrom whirl of hate. 
 Of blighting change, of turbid war which leers 
 Into our faces with its horrid jeers ! 
 Oh, pray for us, that time may extricate. 
 
 We pine for vain delights that swiftly flee, — 
 For fame, success or evanescent might. 
 Why choose such earthly fleeting majesty? 
 Time laughs, and takes it from us in a night! 
 We wait but fortime's deep and moulding line 
 To mark our souls with an eternal sign. 
 
 43 
 
IN THE BREAKERS 
 
 Great billows of despair 
 
 Have broken over me. 
 I have been tossed in air 
 
 And flung down by this sea. 
 
 The deeps of sordid strife 
 Have crushed and left a scar : 
 
 The undertow of life 
 
 Has torn me, drawn me far. 
 
 Deep down I was submerged, — 
 Ay, smothered in the swirl 
 
 When the waves fumed and surged 
 In the mad sweeping whirl. 
 
 Alone, alone I found 
 Not one to see my need. 
 
 Helpless, I almost drowned 
 For just some one to heed. 
 
 Oh, marvelous life-line 
 
 Flung out to rescue me ! 
 It was some power divine — 
 
 Saving from life's dark sea! 
 
 44 
 
MIND UNREST 
 
 Chaos ! Enigmatic, falling, 
 Ever sinking in a hopeless plight. 
 Useless probe and futile calling; 
 Empty answer — bafflement and night ! 
 
 Soul of mine, why wonder, wonder — 
 
 W'hen you cannot, must not know the whole? 
 
 Chaos shall be rent asunder 
 
 When the heavens spread their flashing scroll. 
 
 45 
 
INTERVALS 
 
 The long dark intervals that teem 
 
 Between the times worth while 
 Are intricate and vague, and seem 
 Devoid of any helpful gleam 
 We crave to mark life's dial. 
 
 But fleeting moments most divine, 
 
 Which no one can prolong. 
 Disclose the ])rilliance of soul-shine^ 
 Reveal the heights of God's design. 
 
 And fill the heart w^ith song. 
 
 Tlie dreary interval outvies 
 
 The frowning intervales 
 Deep hidden where the mountains rise 
 To overshadow that which lies 
 
 W^ithin the humble swales. 
 
 We cannot scale the utmost height 
 Nor dwell in thought sublime. 
 
 But life holds balances, and light 
 
 Can touch our spiritual sight 
 To beautify all time. 
 
 46 
 
EASTER IN A HOSPITAL 
 
 Lo, Easter! Early morning darkness clings 
 
 And slowly lifts the heavy pall of dread 
 
 To lessen, gently, weary sufferings; 
 
 The long night filled with pain, with torture fed, 
 
 At last is nearly gone ; another day 
 
 Is creeping through the open window sash 
 
 To bring reviving courage with its breath. 
 
 For this is Easter on its way! 
 And Easter morn forgets the cruel lash. 
 And Easter hastens healing out of death. 
 
 The day assumes a mildly stirring tone 
 Contrasting wiih the stifling ethered air 
 Which penetrates and brings a muffled moan. 
 Far distant sounds of deep toned bells declare 
 A pleasing message so serenely clear 
 That, tho a frighttened child in anguish screams. 
 The dreaded shadows pass and radiance shines ! 
 
 For Easter has an atmosphere 
 That, aching heart and injury, redeems, 
 That, hope and joy and reverence, combines. 
 
 The hesitating step, the breath of flowers 
 Proclaim a visitor to some closed door 
 Where silences are ominous of hoiu's 
 Beating their poignant sword-thrusts to the core. 
 Through tranquil stillness, sudden clink of dish 
 47 
 
Is borne, an anxious whispered call and then, 
 Although it is the Resurrection Day, 
 
 A nurse's rapid rustling swish 
 Is heard adown the hall and back again, 
 Mayhap to ease a soul on death's lone way. 
 
 Supreme and holy Resurrection Day ! 
 
 The day victorious Christ fresh comfort brings, 
 
 With conquering relief for pain-torn clay, 
 
 And thought that lifts one up to highest things. 
 
 To-day I see the Lord ; the world is fair 
 
 And I can never cease through Easter Day 
 
 To glorify this new Epiphany. 
 
 God's manifested love to wear, 
 The past sad crown of thorns is put away — 
 I live again through living Calvary ! 
 
 Spirit of Easier! Hallowed chimes that fall 
 With silver-ringing cadence on the air ! 
 Past Golgotha's dark cross and bitter gall. 
 They waft their sacred praises on. where'er 
 An av/e-lilled heart is kneeling low to pray 
 And chant the antiphon. The skies relume 
 Christ love, and heaven's advent lingereth, 
 
 For this is happy Easter Day ! 
 And Easter joy leaves grieving in the tomb 
 And Easter giveth life in place of death. 
 
 48 
 
ALONG THE WAY 
 
 Along the way we find the rock strewn path, 
 
 The hard ascent, the steep declivity ; 
 
 But God, above the wounding roadway, hath 
 
 Bestowed the tinted clouds, the sun-kissed leaves, 
 
 The strong uplifting spell which pure air weaves, 
 
 And richest treasure given for us to see — 
 
 So, I forget distresses which abound 
 
 To look and find God's blessings all around. 
 
 49 
 
CHILD-FAITH 
 
 Oh, close and confident I lie 
 
 Against God's heart, upon the grass, 
 
 And look up in his face — the sky 
 
 And try to know his thoughts that pass. 
 
 But tliough I cannot fathom far, 
 I know he holds me all the while; 
 
 And when he signals with a star, 
 I see his love, — a twinkling smile ! 
 
 50 
 
VOICES 
 
 Voices come calling across the plain; 
 Voice of the wind and voice of the rain, 
 Eagerly calling to children of men — 
 "Come, rise above the nothings of earth. 
 Search out the marvels of highest worth 
 That cannot be told by tongue or pen." 
 
 Voices come whispering over the leas ; 
 Voices of grasses, the leaves of the trees 
 Gently intone as they sway to and fro — 
 ''Leave all the vanishing forces awhile, 
 Let spirit ascend from earth, mile on mile, 
 And seek for the things that we do not know.' 
 
 A voice from the forest vibrates afar; 
 The voice from the cloud that sings to a star 
 Carries us upward, higher than thought, 
 Loosens the chains of cause and effect, 
 While will-power, faith and judgment elect 
 To overleap wisdom that earth has bought. 
 
 Voices pursue us — are they in vain? 
 Songs of the veery, the lark's refrain 
 Tenderly thrill us, and we, too, soar, — 
 For something lifts when the lark-note rings 
 To something beyong the outside of things 
 And God in His home seems just next door. 
 51 
 
DOUBT 
 
 The shadow signs of doubt that dare 
 To trace themselves around my heart, 
 
 Stand out a twisted mesh of care, 
 
 Like barren stems, which have the art 
 
 To emphasize their heavy Hues. 
 
 In contrast to the wall, such vines 
 Look strong as ropes. 
 
 And on ii, clinging, each dark stem entwines. 
 
 Black coils exaggerate their girth : 
 
 They mar with many a grievous mark 
 
 When winter rigors cause a dearth 
 Of fruitful life and leave them stark. 
 
 But all the wealth that waits so well 
 
 On spring's leaf-elves with later swell 
 To guard new hopes 
 
 And screen the doubt beneath their sylvan spell ! 
 
 52 
 
COME WITH ME 
 
 Oh come with me, dear weeping heart, 
 
 And we will go away; 
 For 1 am tired of pains that dart 
 And you are saddened from the smart 
 
 Of things that hurt to-day. 
 
 Together we will share a dream 
 
 Of triumph, you and I, 
 Because within us things that seem 
 Composed of grief — and nerves that scream- 
 Are earnestly cast by! 
 
 Companions, up and up, we go, — 
 
 My weary heart and yours ; 
 For cloud-top-high are dreams aglow, 
 And we shall catch the overflow 
 
 Through sunny apertures. 
 
 Yes, come w^th me, dear lonely one, 
 
 For we are kin, I know ; 
 And hand in hand we shall outrun 
 The dolors that our hearts would shun ! 
 
 Oh come with me and go ! 
 
 53 
 
A BORROWED BOOK 
 
 Some one has caught a glimpse of stagnant 
 
 hours, 
 Has seen the tiresome tinge of Day-by-Day, 
 Has felt that long Monotony lacks flowers 
 And needs a sprite to spirit Time away. 
 
 And so my friend has gathered a bouquet 
 Of treasured words that in her garden grew, 
 And lent to me a poet's brilliant spray 
 Of time-diverting verses, fresh as dew. 
 
 The sunshine of my friend I borrow, too, 
 And shadow^s are dispelled, the hours beguiled; 
 The weariness is gone, the light is new; 
 With friendly Time I now am reconciled! 
 
 54 
 
A KING'S GARDEN 
 
 A formal garden is a fair plaisance, 
 Yet cold and stately in its way, and so 
 To me it is an artificial show — 
 
 The ostentation of the renaissance. 
 
 The endless view of straight, precise, tall trees 
 Which border on the sweeping esplanade, 
 Is like stitT lines of soldiers on parade 
 
 Saluting pompous power with each breeze. 
 
 The sculptured fountain, spurting all the time 
 And gulping back, insatiable with greed. 
 Wastes sparkling water, feeding but the weed 
 
 That thrives down underneath amidst the slime. 
 
 Patrician poplars, slim and graceful, sway 
 In surface pride, like social parasites. 
 With shallow roots — absorbing topmost lights 
 
 And reaching far and near for all they may. 
 
 The gay parterres enravish wondrously, 
 And revel in symmetrical, bright bloom, 
 But all the ornament is nature's doom 
 
 With its repelling regularity. 
 
 The winding walks and tall dividing hedge — 
 The nooks clandestine that fond youth invites, 
 55 
 
Seem like a stage all set for love's delights 
 And force the senses with a hateful wedge. 
 
 Nobility is gone ! There is a dearth 
 
 Of charming inconsistency's wild sway : 
 Such gardens garnish Nature for display, 
 
 And lack the ancient dignity of earth! 
 
 56 
 
MY NEIGHBOR'S GARDEN 
 
 My next neighbor's garden is laid in a square 
 Of bright quilted patchwork, with pattern-form 
 
 there 
 As gay as the ones that my grandmother made 
 Wiien patterns were borrowed in friendliest 
 
 trade. 
 The colors, design and the flowers fuse glints 
 To come back as one, one that suddenly prints 
 A unified picture of old-fashioned ways — 
 The stately, the slow, the colonial days. 
 
 My neighbor's near garden, so lovely a square, 
 Can turn every eye from delights otherwhere 
 To trace, around corners, down parallel lines. 
 The form that some fanciful title defines — 
 For like the quaint calico patchwork of old 
 The pattern's arrangement is made to unfold 
 With paths' all about and with strips in between 
 Embroidered in stitches of mossy deep green. 
 
 This heart warming garden that lies just next 
 
 door 
 Is modeled to capture the fancy still more 
 Restudying pictures of petal and pose 
 That make up the pieces. The Larkspurs in rows 
 Are telling the praises of Fox-glove's new bonnet 
 Where bees are low droning a honey-sweet 
 
 sonnet : 
 
 57 
 
The hickory bench on a small patch of grass 
 Is so luring a place that no lover could pass, 
 And figures and flowers of olden day hue 
 Are keyed to the tone of the Heavenly-Blue; 
 While right in the center of this brilliant block 
 Is skillfully set an old sundial-clock 
 Surrounded vs^ith roses — some pink and some 
 
 yellow — 
 All pointing or nodding to far North-Star fellow. 
 
 A charming wee entrance to this dear retreat 
 Is through a square-latticed and white garden 
 
 seat 
 Where under its archway one's fancy may see 
 The picture of jubilant butterfly glee, 
 Or humming-birds hover to dip in and sup 
 The sugar from deep in each flower made cup : 
 Far borders are skirted with delivate Phlox 
 And bowing, demurely-serene Hollyhocks. 
 
 Ah me, this quaint garden is truly the place 
 To feel something haunting averting my face 
 To long ago times when sweet modest ways 
 And making of patchwork fulfilled olden days. 
 
 Each month the fair pattern remains quite the 
 
 same 
 With different blocks in the rose-garland frame; 
 
 58 
 
And different bevys of blossoming faces 
 Re-picture my mind with the stateHest graces — 
 These flowered designs which constrain me to 
 
 harbor 
 Odd whimseys of old as I walk in my arbor ! 
 
 What wonder that, near this enchanting gay 
 
 square, 
 I love to go looking and lingering there! 
 
 59 
 
MY GARDEN IS MY THEATRE 
 
 A garden theatre I own 
 
 And when I long to see a play 
 
 I watch its pageant, — in a way 
 True acts are shown. 
 
 The scenery is always set : 
 
 The summer-house, the trellised arch, 
 The deep green shrubs and feather-larch 
 
 Dew sparkling wet. 
 
 The rustic bench is waiting there 
 Beneath the tree and just beyond, 
 
 The dial darkened signs respond 
 To sunshine fair. 
 
 The sky for background gives a glow 
 No human artist-brush could sketch 
 
 With clouds all silver-tipped to etch 
 The depth below. 
 
 And actors come and go for me : 
 They are the birds, the butterflies. 
 
 The fairies' wings, — if you are wise 
 You, too, can see. 
 
 The blossoms nod and turn their heads 
 At bumble-bee's insistent kiss, 
 60 
 
As — rumbling, hungering, loving — this 
 Is how he weds. 
 
 The orchestra is perfect here : 
 It pipes and plays in lofty trees, 
 
 .Vnd every note is one to please, 
 So true, so clear. 
 
 It even trills such thrilling lays. 
 
 That satyrs come, and nymphs and fauns, 
 To dance and prance across the lawns 
 
 In mist arrays. 
 
 It is a play of sweet repose ; 
 
 No sordid problems to be solved, 
 No hate or tragedy involved, 
 
 Or lover woes. 
 
 The robins know I love their song; 
 
 They flit and turn before they soar. 
 And even answer my encore 
 
 In cadence long. 
 
 Then brown leaves flutter, one by one. 
 To tell me that this nature play, 
 
 Which I have watched, day after day. 
 Is almost done. 
 
 61 
 
And when night's dusky curtain drops 
 I feel at rest — not worn with strain 
 
 Attempting, foolishly, to gain 
 Life's trumpery sops. 
 
 62 
 
MAY-TIME 
 
 May-time! Oh, this hour just breathe 
 The matchless fragrance of the air, 
 
 Wind-wafted here and everywhere 
 And let its incense round you wreathe ! 
 
 The sky is an enameled sf^here 
 Revealing luminous bright tones 
 
 That shine upon the day ; its zones 
 Of gloom dispelled by sunshine clear. 
 
 The tender opening leaf of green 
 Enchants us with elusive might : 
 
 It has unfolded over night 
 With vital promises unseen. 
 
 Behold the brilliant pageant — bud 
 
 And blossom waving toward the green 
 
 Banners of silk in royal sheen — 
 For so come joys of May aflood ! 
 
 The hyacinths and daffodils 
 
 Proclaim with pride — the spirit hears^, 
 Inaudible to other ears — 
 
 That Spring is walking on the hills. 
 
 The birds have come to herald, too, 
 Her presence in the homestead plot: 
 63 
 
Look ! Hear the joyous polyglot 
 
 From flashing red and gold and hliie! 
 
 Dull spirits feel themselves transform 
 
 To ecstacy, like this brave choir, 
 Which warbles with enraptured fire 
 
 And sways fruit-petals into storm. 
 
 Horsechestnut trees along the street 
 
 Have decked themselves with waxen blooms, 
 
 Which gleam like candle lights in rooms 
 Before their wax is burned complete. 
 
 You never, never could express 
 The rapture, the enthralling power 
 
 Which comes to you in such an hour, 
 And buoys you up for life's duress. 
 
 It must have been sometime in May 
 
 That God looked on his work on earth, 
 
 And found it good ! And now rebirth 
 Is also thrilling us, to-day! 
 
 64 
 
AN INTERLUDE 
 
 Musicians sometimes change 
 
 A deep refrain 
 
 And turn the melody to strange 
 
 S\\'eet haunting notes that wake to life 
 
 And in our hearts remain. 
 
 vSo, in the harmony 
 
 Of life's delight 
 
 Strange moments leap to memory 
 
 And, touching deeper chords of life, 
 
 Link strains of subtle might. 
 
 Thus it was today 
 
 As forth I rode. 
 
 Contentedly, my role to play 
 
 And feel the throbbing pulse of life 
 
 Which, ghostly, by me strode. 
 
 Then suddenly, you passed 
 And looked at me — 
 And held my spirit fast! 
 Unlike a stranger's countenance 
 Which turns with casual glance 
 To look, and does not see. 
 Your soul met mine — 
 And, for a moment, wine 
 Coursed through my veins 
 Like rain in hurricanes. 
 65 
 
Swayed by a master sign 
 
 The major purpose to refine 
 
 The music changed, and melody 
 
 I heard, in weird and minor key. 
 
 I felt a thrill of spirited surprise 
 
 And turned to question your insistent eyes. 
 
 What did you see — 
 
 Why did you look at me 
 
 With sphinx-like scrutiny? 
 
 Questions echoed through the whirr 
 Of traffic as we passed. 
 I wondered why the songs that were 
 Should change so unexpectedly 
 To let another make for me 
 Odd strains which held me fast 
 With instant comraderie ! 
 
 It was a bar of harmony 
 In concord with the world. 
 Driving on, impelling me — 
 The wheels of life were whirled ! 
 
 66 
 
THE MESSENGER 
 
 Oh Bluebird, winging near me, 
 
 You veer away and then, 
 Returning, bear a message 
 
 To tell again, again! 
 Is Eros in the secret? 
 
 Has he dispatched you here 
 To flash your feathers gleaming bright, 
 
 And pipe your song of cheer? 
 
 You deepen heaven's color 
 
 Bird-sprite of Happiness: 
 You bring unto my senses 
 A message to redress 
 For days of chilling loneness. 
 
 For days of sable hue, 
 When I would give all I possess 
 
 To hear, dear heart, from you. 
 
 How strangely I am trembling 
 
 At your transporting note, 
 For I was faint with lono;ing: 
 
 To hear that pulsing throat ! 
 The reason you are Happiness 
 
 I know! Its truth I prove. 
 The reason? Well, why not confess — 
 
 You sing to me of love. 
 
 67 
 
so YOU ARE LIGHT TO ME 
 
 The herald of the coming day 
 
 Is rolling back the night, 
 And beauty of the dawning gray 
 
 Before the wealth of light 
 Is like the shadow-thoughts that stray 
 To greet me when you are away. 
 
 When splendor of the day is here 
 
 And empty night is gone. 
 The gracious radiance and cheer 
 
 Are love's own benison, — 
 The love that shines when you are near, 
 A sparkling signal to endear. 
 
 The rays that evening sunsets fling 
 
 Around the glowing rose 
 When lingering tender kisses cling 
 
 The flower heart to disclose. 
 Are like you. too, the love you bring 
 With day's repeated offering. 
 
 And does the morning light unroll 
 
 The miracle of day? 
 And does the daylight still control 
 
 The evening softened ray? 
 So you, my love, can make the whole 
 Of light for me — day's living soul. 
 68 
 
"WILL-O'-THE WISP" 
 
 Alas, my fond desire is ''Will-'-o-the-Wisp" ! 
 
 He holds me charmed with glimmer clear and 
 crisp. 
 Yet teases me with his elusive wile, 
 
 Which frees me, only backward to beguile. 
 
 A phantom "Will-o'-the-Wisp" is my desire! 
 
 I reach for its reflected light, but higher, 
 Now here, now there, it dances in my eyes, 
 
 Dazzling and blinding — then aw^ay it flies. 
 
 Oh deep desire, oh haunting "Will-o*-the-Wisp", 
 With those sweet hopes and longings that you 
 lisp, 
 
 Torment me not with your evasive spell, 
 Release me, please, till I charm you as well ! 
 
 69 
 
A CAMP-FIRE LONG AGO 
 
 A certain camp-fire lives and burns 
 
 In a corner of my mind ; 
 Its leaping flame remembering turns 
 
 Old fuel's heart to find. 
 
 The pine logs draw a shadow straight 
 With the silver pointed moon, 
 
 And dancing wraiths with bows ornate 
 Are humming secret rune. 
 
 Wood embers dead long years ago 
 
 No flames can vitalize; 
 But I can keep my fire aglow 
 
 By the light within your eyes. 
 
 70 
 
WAITING 
 
 The summer's urgent lurement, gay, 
 With leaves all beckoning in gracious play, 
 Compels me to the joyance of each day — 
 But you are far away. 
 
 Cicades loudly call and sing, 
 The flowers shine, the birds are on the wing, 
 And, oh, the woodland is a living thing. 
 But you, they do not bring. 
 
 The water gently laves the dock 
 Where waiting boats beside the lake-shore rock ; 
 I hear the leader's bell among the flock, 
 But not your knock. 
 
 Alas, I want you here again! 
 The road you chose wound over hill and plain. 
 And where you went, 'tis there my heart has lain, 
 I wait, but not in vain. 
 
 71 
 
LOVE'S REQUEST 
 
 Tell me why the beauty of the roses, 
 Lovely in the tender night's disguise, 
 
 Never in the starshine quite uncloses 
 
 Secrets that my heart would keenly prize. 
 
 Subtly to my lips I feel a pleasure 
 
 Wafted like the sense of being kissed : 
 
 Roses' hearts and yours are haunting treasure — 
 Both seem often hidden in a mist. 
 
 Mist of evening veil and velvet petal, 
 Sweetness unresponsive to my sight, 
 
 Tell me why the rose and you unsettle 
 Calm of vision clear and night's delight? 
 
 Speak to me and make the mist uncover 
 Heart of rose and heart of one more dear : 
 
 Whisper to me through the dusk, my lover, 
 Speak and make love's meaning wholly clear! 
 
 72 
 
LOVE'S ANSWER 
 
 You cannot tell with lips my heart's requesting, 
 You may not even softly lift your voice, 
 
 But oh, your eyes dear love-looks are attesting, 
 And keeping tryst to make my heart rejoice. 
 
 The silence of your soul you are obeying, 
 No tender thought of me you need to tell, 
 
 For oh, my lover, your deep eyes are saying 
 "I love you, dear, I love you, love you well." 
 
 73 
 
THE ABSENT ONE 
 
 All day my thoughts are wandering with you. 
 All through the night they still go dreaming on. 
 Then they, content, at happy rendezvous, 
 Are like the halcyon. 
 
 You are the clear and calm life-buoyant pool, 
 And yieldingly I sink upon your breast : 
 Thus held, my thoughts are nestling, warmly, 
 cool, 
 And find their perfect rest ! 
 
 74 
 
YOUR SHADOW 
 
 From you no gloomy shadow falls 
 Within my room when you are here; 
 But warmest golden light installs 
 Itself — if you are near. 
 
 The playful shadow only comes 
 
 When you are gone, with wayward knack; 
 
 And that dull silver-chill benumbs 
 
 The light — till you come back. 
 
 Your shadow is so strange a thing; 
 Detached from you it seems to grow. 
 You never tiny vestige bring — 
 Yet leave it when you go! 
 
 75 
 
THE PHANTOM OF FEAR 
 
 Listen to the music's throb ! 
 
 Strains of vioHn that sob 
 Unresponding to the magic of the night : 
 
 How they beat a hateful wonder 
 
 As they strike my joy asunder — 
 Unrelenting tones that, passing, leave afifright. 
 
 I was thinking, dear, of you, 
 
 Passing fondly in review 
 Happy hours that linger, charming with delight, 
 
 But the music's sudden robbing 
 
 Of the quiet with its sobbing 
 Chilled my soul, till on my spirit fell a blight! 
 
 Oh, the horror of the thought 
 
 That the threnody so brought — 
 Endless moments lacking touch of you, or sight ! 
 
 See the ghost dance in derision 
 
 As it makes a mental vision 
 And intones a ghastly measure, dead and white ! 
 
 76 
 
THE GARDEN OF LOVE 
 
 Sweet are the gifts of the garden, my lover; 
 
 Garlands of perfume my senses entwine, 
 Blossoms bend low^ and their petals uncover 
 
 Odors more potent than merit of mine. 
 
 You are the gift of love's garden, my treasure ; 
 
 You are the spirit the flowers possess — 
 Sem]>lance of nature's most ravishing measure, 
 
 Blendincr endearments with heaven's caress. 
 
 Sweet as the garden's own fragrancy clinging. 
 Fair as the beauty the tanglement sheds, 
 
 Dearer by far is the love you are bringing. 
 Dearer the time which your lingering weds. 
 
 You arc the heart of the garden's wild rapture, 
 You are the magic of flowers aglcam, 
 
 You are the hope that my soul flies to capture — 
 Garlanded wonder and fancy adream ! 
 
 71 
 
REACTION 
 
 The beautiful things of this glorious world 
 Are so fathomless in their delight, 
 
 That beauty surpassing the vision, has hurled 
 My soul into blackness of night. 
 
 The marvelous justice and wisdom of thought, 
 That is sometimes the gift of a man, 
 
 Is so godlike that wonder and reverence have 
 wrought 
 In my mind a far place hard to span. 
 
 And the love that you bear me, Oh lover of mine, 
 
 Is so high and so holy a boon 
 That my spirit relaxes, transition benign 
 
 Alakes my heart sink in death, like a swoon. 
 
 78. 
 
TO A BROOK 
 
 All verse of "babbling brooks" should be taboo ! 
 
 Forbidden in memorials of rhyme, — 
 
 But who could fail to sing the heart of you, 
 
 O mystic, whispering element of time? 
 
 You disregard both cycle and the clime, 
 
 Descendent of eternity's first rill; 
 
 You live and flow in mimic pantomime 
 
 Of motion and with music's charm you fill 
 
 Your upturned shining cup of mirrored daffodil. 
 
 Your origin you chant to silver grace 
 Of mountain vales where transitory things 
 Like dew or opalescent cloud first trace 
 Efi'ect unchangeable, which downward flings 
 Creation's essence with a rush that swings 
 And tumbles by the flimsy haunts of men, 
 That hurries by the marsh where bog-mosS' 
 
 clings. 
 Before you find the shining pool and then 
 Attain the final headlong plunge beyond the glen. 
 
 You bear the imprint of your maker's clear 
 Design in your ecstatic ordered flow. 
 At present like the days of yester-year 
 You coine with syllables of joy, and go 
 Your way where even grievous symbols grow 
 Against malicious rocks — the rocks that dash 
 79 
 
Hurt tears of spray! Here, flecks of sunshme 
 
 glow. 
 There, tiny wisps of straw can cut a gash, 
 And shade reheves bewildering dancing lights 
 
 that plash. 
 
 How merrily your rippling laughter fills 
 The glade and makes the quiet lowland proud 
 To own the argent flow your life distills ! 
 As placid intellects look on a crowd 
 Of children clamoring in play so loud 
 That heart is freshened and receives a stir. 
 So earth along your margin is endowed 
 With greater beauty ! Oh fleet reveller. 
 Laugh on in gurgling rapture-joys, our mes- 
 senger ! 
 The age-old minstrel wind pipes on and on 
 And improvises tender melody 
 That swells and flows in perfect unison 
 W'ith flower bells and joins the harmony 
 Of tinkling liquid, — making jubilee. 
 So crystal clear, so full of music's might, 
 That precious loveliness can keep the key 
 Till each new morn recalls the face of light 
 Above the clinging velvet cloak of sapphire night. 
 
 Reflected garniture of lacy cloud 
 And leaflage tapestry enchant the eyes 
 So deftly that a ravished spirit bowed 
 In worship ere swift magic brought surprise 
 80 
 
Of dreams to soften day. Such mellow guise 
 Enhances lattice-work of trampled grass, 
 And violets whose sundrenched leaves baptize , 
 The soul with mystery. Sweet, cool morass 
 Exhaling perfume nought in woodland can 
 surpass. 
 
 What wonder, thus attuned and thus adorned 
 That swiftly flitting birds give pause and bend 
 A downward course; that gauzy wings have 
 
 scorned 
 The blue, your fascination to attend 
 And mingle metal-colorings that blend 
 Where down turned mirrored grassy stems 
 
 portray 
 Your spirit — like the loved face of a friend 
 Reflecting joy or sympathy to stay 
 O'er wrought emotion with serene composing 
 
 ray. 
 
 Oh, lovely delicately rippling brook, 
 Why leap ahead and haste for that beyond 
 With splashing eagerness and longing look? 
 So, ardent youth impels the wizard-wand 
 Of time, believing that the the diamond 
 Of life is only held by Future's hour! 
 Do not forget your present emerald frond, 
 Your lily pearl, the ruby of your flower, 
 And darkest night made clear and fresh by opal 
 shower. 
 
 81 
 
The evening luster of the turquoise sky, 
 With moonstone set and interlacing jade 
 Of filmy leaves are all to glorify ! 
 Does memory of precious gems soon fade? 
 Ah, youth is a deserting renegade 
 From even youth's delightsomeness, and fast 
 Your lovely water-path leads unafraid 
 Beyond the shielding mother-banks and past 
 Protecting trees to reach the broader fields at 
 last. 
 
 Alas, it is beyond my pov^^er to tell 
 The mysteries you prattle openly. 
 Tho only joy and pleasure seem to dwell 
 In you, you teach beguiling witchery 
 Of childlike love and fresh philosophy. 
 Your future qualities will surely steal 
 This honeyed magic in its purity. 
 And in the glassy depths of pools reveal 
 The deeper things which lightsome laughter must 
 conceal. 
 
 There you will dream again of winsome youth — 
 Will clearly indicate what lay before, 
 And find the undercurrent of first truth 
 Re-rippling gently now along the shore: 
 With silent undersong you will restore 
 
 82 
 
The phantom hopes of men a little while, 
 For you, with wisdom of a deeper lore, 
 Will be content to rest,— evading guile, 
 Inspiring with the courage of your shining smile. 
 
 83 
 
TRANSITION 
 
 I do not long to be down South 
 Tho harsh the March wind blows 
 
 I would not miss the rapid change 
 To warmth from sugar-snows ! 
 
 And even now the yellow clumps 
 
 Of crocuses are bright 
 As brilliant oranges down there — 
 
 And Spring comes overnight ! 
 
 M 
 
THE WINDS OF THE DAWNING 
 
 The winds of the dawning are turning my feet 
 
 far astray; 
 World-calls for my fingers and foosteps I cannot 
 
 obey, 
 For something is luring and urging to dreamland 
 
 to-day. 
 
 My garments are billowing free in the breezes 
 
 that woo. 
 And I can but follow, arms eagerly reaching 
 
 out, too. 
 To gather the dreams that outnumber the clouds 
 
 in the blue. 
 
 The world has grown small and recedes in the 
 
 brilliance of light 
 Now shining in happy possession of dreams that 
 
 invite. 
 Who cares for material snares? It is dreams 
 
 that requite! 
 
 85 
 
THE FAIRIES' PICNIC 
 
 Far on the mountain the sun-fays are dancing, 
 High in the sky the cloud-pixie wings fly, 
 
 Sparkles, the foam-waves, like gems are en- 
 hancing, 
 Topaz-lights gleam from the hillside near by. 
 
 This is the day of the fairies' excursion ! 
 
 Nature is decked in a festive array; 
 Animals frolic to whispered coercion — 
 
 Who does not know it is Fairyland Day? 
 
 Nymphs and wee gnomes, hand in hand, bend the 
 grasses. 
 Sprites play their pranks with an artful caress : 
 There, through the woodland, the queen's car- 
 riage passes 
 Led by old Pan piping on with finesse. 
 
 See them, come ! Follow and join in the revel — 
 People are stupid who veil wonder-eyes ! 
 
 Come though the breezes your calm may dishevel. 
 This is the day of the fairies' surprise. 
 
 86 
 
OLD SONGS 
 
 Rondeau 
 
 They come and go — the songs we heard 
 When childhood played upon the stage: 
 I turn back softly to that page 
 And still recall each little word. 
 
 Sweet and clear, like note of bird 
 Or far oft echo from a sage 
 They come and go. 
 
 My heart with crowding thoughts is stirred 
 As melodies of old engage, — 
 Those lullabys that still assuage ! 
 For when I need uplifting gird 
 They come and go. 
 
 87 
 
RONDEL OF GRATITUDE 
 
 O God, how thankfully I read the line 
 Some unknown poet's flaming mind has made: 
 Emotion deftly interchanged is laid 
 Upon my restless heart and now is mine. 
 
 It shames me when to failure I incline, 
 It holds me high, and when I am afraid 
 
 God, how thankfully I read the line 
 Some unknown poet's flaming mind has made. 
 
 1 long to tell him how his words entwine 
 Themselves among my thoughts to give me aid 
 Yet he can never know and my crusade 
 
 Of gratitude is lost : but at my shrine 
 O God, how thankfully I read the line! 
 
 8S 
 
THE LIGHT 
 
 Rondeau 
 
 It shall be mine! My faithful search shall find, 
 Beyond the night by which our eyes are blind, 
 A sure tho subtle glimmer of the day 
 Which follows, ending darkness. I shall say 
 " Tis only night and gloom that are unkind !" 
 
 Black night has frightened me and made my mind 
 Lose reasoned poise as gropingly I wind 
 In frantic search of calming light ! I pray 
 It shall be mine! 
 
 And so it comes ! White day glides in behind 
 The baleful night, and now my soul shall bind 
 And banish shuddering terrors quite away. 
 Oh, I will gather in a roundelay 
 Life,giving light, and sing with wise mankind 
 "It shall be mine!" 
 
 89 
 
A BALLADE OF DOERS 
 
 I wonder which is man's best bent? 
 
 To do or be ! For each is free 
 To choose his heart's own instrument — 
 
 But while I, choosing, bend the knee 
 
 My song is but a threnody, 
 Or minor lay. I never knew 
 
 The tones to make a symphony, 
 But I can praise the ones who do. 
 
 The ones who pipe with great portent, 
 
 And fill the world with jubilee. 
 Have chosen life most excellent. 
 
 Ah, some can deftly touch the key, 
 
 But some of us can only be! 
 Like shining love, I, too, would strew 
 
 The world with songs of joy and glee — 
 But I can praise the ones who do. 
 
 All those who sing and work are sent 
 To follow thus the world's decree. 
 
 Each tiny task with great is blent, 
 
 And through man's toil the seers foresee 
 The earth a place of heaven's degree. 
 
 Man's faithfulness to make us new! 
 Not all will work for life's small fee, 
 
 But I can praise the ones who do. 
 
 90 
 
Dear persons all, whose work I see, 
 World gratitude goes out to you, 
 
 Oh, some of us can only BE, 
 
 But I can praise the ones who DO! 
 
 91 
 
'XOUP DE GRACE" 
 
 I played upon life's seashore 
 And chased the breakers out, 
 
 But when the wave beat back at me 
 It was a whelming rout ! 
 
 If I had known how fruitless 
 To fight against the tide, 
 
 I should have saved myself the rout- 
 But would have clung to pride. 
 
 92 
 
FAR AS THE DREAM OF SPACE 
 
 We do not always think in words. 
 
 Ideas flit across the brain like birds 
 
 And like them rise above on wings 
 
 That do not even touch the names of things ! 
 
 High, fundamental, vision free. — 
 
 These are the flights I need to make me see. 
 
 9i 
 
SUMMER RAIN 
 
 Tlie tender threnody of steady rain 
 Blends music pathos with the heart's own pain; 
 And earthy fragrancy of growing things 
 Surrounds old hurts with new-born offerings. 
 
 94 
 
A GOLDEN DAY 
 
 Arise ! Now comes the scintilla/ting day 
 Between the gray October gales that blow ! 
 
 Come singing, — lift your hearts from grief and 
 know 
 
 That you must take the sunshine path of play 
 
 To find the glory-thoughts that wing their way 
 On kissing, clinging winds, — gay thoughts, 
 
 that go 
 A-dancing through the slanting beams below 
 
 And climb the trees to find the highest ray! 
 
 Awake, my heart, look up and meet the thought 
 Of God that fills the air with glory-strewn 
 
 Delight ! The colored leaves, unasked, unbought, 
 Like flaming fires of unknown things, com- 
 mune 
 
 With autumn's rich conceit and thus is wrought 
 A golden day far lovelier than June. 
 
 95 
 
TO A NOVEMBER ROSE 
 
 Brave little, bright little autumn rose, 
 Holding your head up in wintry snows ! 
 Battered leaves sodden and cheerless and gray — ' 
 You are still crimson, royally gay. 
 
 Shadows depressing and all gone awry! 
 Where is the sunshine, where is the sky? 
 Everything dull and so crisp and so cold, 
 But there you are shining in velvet and gold. 
 
 Sadly I study the garden's grim mood, 
 Perfectly matching my own solitude. 
 And I shrink from myself and the garden, too, 
 But red little rose, I am drawn to you. 
 
 96 
 
WISHES 
 
 I like to feel the snow-flakes gently fall upon 
 
 my face. 
 Like butterflies they flutter, whirl and turn and 
 
 interlace, 
 Till finally some blow my way and light with 
 
 winning grace. 
 
 I like to think that they are whimsey wishes of 
 
 my friends 
 With glowing light and goodly cheer; that this 
 
 wee flake portends 
 Ideal joy, and that one during ills can make 
 
 amends. 
 
 As clear as crystal comes each floating wish with 
 
 pure intent. 
 Sun-bright while drifting high in air — a dancing 
 
 blandishment, 
 And warm good-will can make insensate wraith 
 
 seem true event. 
 
 Exalting wishes everywhere, these shining flakes 
 
 now stilled ! 
 They wrap the dreary landscape in a lustral 
 
 snow-white gild 
 To indicate the splendor — if their wish could be 
 
 fulfilled ! 
 
 97 
 
THE SPIRIT OF THE PRAIRIE 
 
 O the sweep of the wide open prairie, 
 That invites Hke the heart of a friend, 
 
 With the roll and incline of the coulee 
 And the freedom of limitless end ! 
 
 O the lift of immensities' distance, 
 The curve of the wide circling skies, 
 
 Pure ozone that blows from the foothills 
 With a clear and refreshing surprise ! 
 
 How the feet of my horse create music, 
 Like a swinging and rythmical song, 
 
 While the beat of my heart's supreme fervor 
 Learns love as we lope, lope along ! 
 
 For the life of my soul was in bondage; 
 
 It had never known where to expand — 
 But lo, on the prairie unbounded 
 
 It can splendidly grow to command! 
 
 98 
 
A CITY— PASSING GLIMPSE 
 
 The tops of buildings and a tall church spire 
 Against the misty hills which make a frame 
 Encircled round a town! Who knows the 
 name, 
 
 Or cares to know? Illusion's gift seems higher 
 
 Than history and lifts the vision nigher 
 Renown than other sites of greater fame. 
 The halls reflect the sun in flash of flame 
 
 And with their beauty set my heart afire. 
 
 It is a city folded to the heart 
 
 Of noble constant hills. To man a home, 
 Built steadfastly with love as guiding chart, 
 
 And when I see the central looming dome 
 It holds a thought uplifted and apart — 
 
 Lo, for the hour, as great as ancient Rome. 
 
 99 
 
TO A NIGHTHAWK ON THE WING 
 
 Oh, nightly flying bird in heaven's high arching 
 blue, 
 I watch you circle far and strangely soar, 
 Or stop in sudden turning — crying hoarse halloo. 
 To downward drop and then your flight 
 restore. 
 
 I wait for evening's twilight glow to hear the 
 whirr 
 
 That stirs an after silence in your wake, 
 And with you I would be, a winged adventurer, 
 
 Your perfect poise and madness to partake. 
 
 Wide wings can beat against the shadowed azure 
 
 sky 
 
 So swiftly that my eyes can scarce pursue; 
 
 But thought, more swift than fleetest wings, can 
 
 onward fly 
 
 And with your dusky path keep rendezvous. 
 
 Although your winging joy to mortals is not 
 given. 
 The rapture of the spirit's peerless flight 
 Is symbol of the day when, swift, the soul is 
 riven 
 From earth-bound time to know your free 
 delight. 
 
 100 
 
SOUND FROM SILENT NIGHT 
 
 When depth of night comes drifting down 
 through space 
 
 And darkness touches everything, 
 Deep quiet creeps along earth's phantom face 
 
 With tentacles of sleep that cling. 
 
 But when the night charm broods in that dim 
 hour, 
 
 Awake, O mystic groping soul, — 
 'Tis then that God seems nearest in His power, 
 
 And magic sounds through silence roll! 
 
 What is that soft vibration in the air? 
 
 Some wind-wave, wireless telegraph. 
 Some far off fog-horn booming its rude blare, 
 
 Or gnomes who in the darkness laugh? 
 
 Is it a meteor fallen in its sleep 
 
 With distant cataclysmic crash? 
 Or waves of ether in the open deep, 
 
 Or clinking trails when comets clash? 
 
 Perhaps Aurora, in a chariot drawn, 
 
 Is rumbling high in astral space! 
 Perhaps it is the matin song of dawn. 
 
 Or moonmen from their lunar place! 
 
 101 
 
Nay, none of these : I hear the sound anew — 
 
 The echo of the Holy One 
 Who passes through the heavens to review 
 
 Each God-made brilhant starry sun! 
 
 It was not some dekisive sound I heard 
 
 For wavelets tell it to the shore, 
 The leaves repeat it to the trees, the bird 
 
 Trills in the darkness to adore. 
 
 A trembling joy awakens to respond 
 And out of hearts true worship flows. 
 
 Oh, faint conception of that One beyond 
 
 Whose endless might and power — who knows ? 
 
 102