Class _3-S_llii ^ 3 V r Copyright }j". Q CQVitSiGKt DEPOSIT. ' ^"iwmmuktmiF Oh lake! a light of olden skies Is on thy surface shining; A glory and a splendor lies Around thy shores undying. (P. 67) A VOICE OF THE HILLS A Voice of the Hills Poems by John Warren Gordon Barre, Vermont 1917 CAPITAL CITY PRESS, PUBLISHERS MONTPELIER, VT. COPYRIGHT, NINETEEN-SEVENTEEN BY JOHN W. GORDON m 30 1917 PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 1 /I ri . I CONTENTS CONTENTS A Chevalier .90 A Medley of the Vermont Senate of 1910 ... 22 Amo .17 A Salute 38 A Scotch Friend 65 A Scrap of Paper 63 Barre Academy 44 Boston 116 Burns 18 Christmas 36 Columbus 70 Dartmouth 110 Dartmouth Reunion 99 Dedication of a Soldiers' Monument .... 45 Forget It 115 Finis 120 Honest John 82 In Memoriam 35 Joseph A. DeBoer 42 5 CONTENTS Lake Champlain 67 Modern War 75 New Year's Eve in Church 105 Neighbors 115 On the Death of a Friend 43 Our Charms 94 Over the Top 88 Preparedness 40 Presenting a Dining Set to a Pastor .... 92 Proem 11 Rock Dunder 91 Samuel De Champlain 12 Senator B 96 Senator G 98 Senator L 95 Shipwreck of the Republic 119 Sir Isaac's Sport 77 Soldiers' Monument . 100 Star of Peace 109 The Anglers 107 The Battle of Plattsburg Bay 103 The Class of Eighty-Three 47 The Child and the Stars 70 CONTENTS The Donnar Oak 80 The Founder of Dartmouth 60 The Muck Rake 118 The New Inn 117 The Odd Fellow 76 The Pleasures of the Angler 14 The Reunion at Gettysburg 84 The States to Canada 102 The Ten Pin Club of Chelsea 113 The Tree 114 Vermont 13 Vision of Peace .64 TO MT WIFE. How oft you plied the pruning book With eager purpose to improve Until the sense would be more clear And smoother would the numbers move. And if the merit still be small No fault attaches to your part, For to the reader I confess The fault lies in the writer^s art. —J. W. G. A VOICE OF THE HILLS PROEM WE vainly wish that they were better- These products of our idle hours- That they were true in line and letter As are the stars and vernal flowers. But not to all the gift of song That rises to the height of art, That can from age to age prolong The music of the human heart. But simple songs may have a charm Denied to more pretentious lays; Some plants that gentle heat will warm Would wither in a tropic blaze. No reader with a critic's eye Should waste his time upon these pages; To win his praise we did not try Nor shall we sorrow if he rages. So here they are — our waifs of fancy- No thunderous line to stun the ear, No witching, rythmic, necromancy, No tragic word to draw a tear. 11 A VOICE OF THE HILLS SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN BENEATH the thatch, beside the salty marsh, Where daily bread was daily task. Where Fortune's frowns were stern and harsh And small the gifts that peasants ask, There one of Nature's noblemen was born. Whose heraldry should be his deed. Whose mind to high emprise was borne. Whose hand should plant an empire's seed. In ev'ry deed he chose the nobler part. And none e'er saw his courage lag And whiter were the lilies of his heart Than were the lilies of his flag. Oh France! Could you have seen, as we can see. The wonders of the lands he trod; What peoples, cities, states were yet to be On what you thought was worthless sod. You might have won the struggle with the Saxon Your heart to-day might thrill to see, In place of Stars and Stripes, or Cross and Dragon, The lilies of your Fleur de Lis. 12 A VOICE OF THE HILLS VERMONT YOUR western border is a lake, Your eastern is a river; Your name from hills of green you take That are a joy forever. No ocean pours upon your lands, The wealth of distant havens; But mountains are your lifted hands For bounty of the heavens. Let others boast their sunny climes And rich and broad plantations; We choose your season^s changing rhymes And beautiful mutations. The sultry winds that move the palm Where day and night are equal N'er wake the northern pine-tree psalm Where spring is winter's sequel. 13 A VOICE OF THE HILLS THE PLEASURES OF THE ANGLER WHEN birds sing best and meadows bloom, When trees are list'ning to the brooks And waters leap the rocks in foam, The anglers seek sequestered nooks. Supplied with bait of worm or fly. With silken line and springing pole That reach where speckled beauties lie In running stream and crystal pool. In patient watch they sit and wait. In meditation's happy dream, Disturbed by nibbles at the bait Or by the voices of the stream. These voices are a joyous thing; Upon the ear they louder grow Till all the air and landscape ring; Then blend in music soft and low. At times a note is sharp and clear. So real it seems, you glance about To see what friend is standing near And finding none are left in doubt. The waters laugh at your surprise And chatter onward through the lea, Repeating oft in human guise The note that startled you and me. 14 A VOICE OF THE HILLS What memories these voices wake Of days when all the world was new, When woodland, mountain, stream and lake Encircled all the sports we knew. Before the arrows made a wound, Before we sought the heights and deeps. Or grass was green upon the mound Beneath whose sod a playmate sleeps. Ah! What a symbol of our life The stream that glistens as it flows! Against the rocks it beats in strife Or frets 'neath Winter ice and snows. Then out it flows in sunny June To feed the roots of grass and flower And sing its merry Summer tune From morning light to vesper hour. Twixt life and death, a silver thread That stretches through the verdant land From mountain source to Ocean bed,- A wonder wrought by Nature's hand. And all the stars above it pass And pause to see their image there. For beautiful in the liquid glass The jewels of the night appear. The same to-day as yesterday, It hurries onward to the sea; The same tomorrow as to-day, A changeless change its destiny. 15 A VOICE OF THE HILLS To scenes like these the angler turns And leaves the fretting world behind To seek amid the flowers and ferns The joys that Nature has refined. 16 Today our poet stands in granite mold, So weel and deftly wrought by loving hands; But half the good he did is still untold; In song he worketh yet in all the lands. (P. 20) A VOICE OF THE HILLS AMO 1L0VE the poet's song, Sung on the evening air, Whose lips the bee hath stung And left its honey there. I love the sculptor's hand, Who carves a dream in stone And beautifies the land With forms that we have known. I love the painter's brush, Adorning wall and dome. That brings the heart to hush In the corridors of Rome. I love the hero's name Who died to make us free And won immortal fame Upon the land or sea. I love the great and good. Whose steps we fondly trace, Whose hearts were understood, Whose works have blessed the race. I love the hearth of home Where kindly faces meet. No matter where I roam I thither turn my feet. 17 A VOICE OF THE HILLS BURNS* AND it was Robbie Burns who sang so sweet Of lovely Ayrshire braes and Bonnie Doon; All of the melodies of song did meet To swell the chorus of his lyric tune. Alike to him the rose and thistle grew,- The daisy and the mouse were noble theme; Twa Dogs, philosophers as wise and true As those who delve in classic learning's stream. Of rant and cant the strong and certain foe, As keepers of Twa Herds fu' well can tell, And quackish Doctor Hornbrooks well may know Upon whose shams his arrows thickly fell. The deil, like sin, a brunstane roasting got That left him sair as Tam O'Shanter's mare; 'Twas worse by far, since Angel Michael's shot, When hosts on heavenly plane were 'gaged in war. *Read in accepting the Bums* monument for the City of Barre. 18 A VOICE OF THE HILLS As moralist, oft-times sagacious, true,- To him our pleasures were like poppies spread, Like river- m.elted flake or rainbow hue, Like flowers seized, or flitting light that's fled. He gave the highest place to woman fair; He told us how that Nature first made man With 'prentice hand, and then, with greater care, She made the lassies on a better plan. Lang, lang as hearts shall know the tender flame And body make a body laugh or cry, The tongue shall not forget the singer's name Who sang the song of **Comin' Thro' the Rye." When age shall whiten beard and bend the form. And friends of youth their place must soon resign. In Simmer's sultry heat or Winter's storm. The voice shall con the lines of Auld Lang Syne. When auld companions, on life's further slope. Recall the canty days of long ago. They'll walk with firmer step and brighter hope Remembering **John Anderson, My Jo." 19 A VOICE OF THE HILLS When titled lords look down on kith and kin, Despising hoddin gray and simple samp, As if the common wore the badge of sin, We'll know the rank is but the guinea's stamp. In every patriot's veins for aye shall burn The Godlike praise that Highland heroes won For doughty deeds at bloody Bannockburn, When Edward's day of tyranny was done. And Scotia's grandeur stronger yet shall spring From prayerful scene beneath the Cotter's roof And every clime and age shall joy to bring Its praise and laurels as affection's proof. Oft fortune was severe, but sad or gay, Aboon the ills o' life he wore a smile That makes the world rejoice to bless the day And hour '*There was a lad was born in Kyle." To-day our poet stands in granite mold. So weel and deftly wrought by loving hands; But half the good he did is still untold; In song he worketh yet in all the lands. His deed was broader than a plan or book: "For Puir Old Scotland's Sake" he sang a song And earth and sky a fresher glory took, As over all his light shone bright and strong. 20 A VOICE OF THE HILLS Still flowers bloom beside the Bonnie Doon, The heather sweetly grows on Highland brae; Unchanged as these as cycles forward run, Shall be the songs that gladden us today. We take the gift that you so freely give; Be thankit for the purpose and the art; His nobler thoughts you'll make us better live, His name shall be a truer treasure of the heart. 21 A VOICE OF THE HILLS A MEDLEY on the VERMONT SENATE OF 1910 WE beg your pardon while we sing Not of a knight or prince or king, But of the men who gathered here And breathed this Chamber's atmosphere. We'll box the counties in our rhymes And sing the praise of Good Old Times, When thirty men assembled here And asked no odds of any year. Whate'er was wrong we tried to shun, Whate'er was right, was quickly done. Our labor is a wonder yet To those who know the worth they get. We labored near a hundred days And twisted laws a thousand ways. Just as the greatest artists do Until our work, like theirs, was true. *Twas not by many laws enacted, We won our legislative bays. Alike for evil ones rejected We should receive a people's praise. For laws, like books, are weariness To flesh, if freely multiplied. 22 A VOICE OF THE HILLS A few that rest on righteousness Will serve a State and be its pride. That all our statutes were wise ones Is not the honor that we claim, But as the current wisdom runs, We did deserve a decent fame. That some good laws were left unpassed, Is not a wonder or surprise; Some will remain unto the last For men to fashion and revise. But as the years shall come and go. And here shall gather other men. What better record will they show, Than that of nineteen hundred ten? And that is why we wondered more and more That people never thought of us before. Our strong point was variety. We were of various shapes and sizes, No matter what the show might be We had a subject for the prizes. We had extremes of both the lean and fat. Our President and Vice were proof of that. Some eyes were grey and some were brown or blue But each could pierce a statute through and through. Here white hair crowned an honored head. While other heads were topped with black or red. All knew their part and kept each Senate rule. Though David said the writer played the fool. 23 A VOICE OF THE HILLS BOXING THE COUNTIES LAMOILLE County showed its usual spunk, And sent us Pike, not fashioned out of punk. His brevity commended what he said. And none were wrong, who followed where he lead. From Franklin, aptly named from him Who stole the lightning of Almighty Jove, Came Shepardson and Sheldon, short and slim. Whose work the sane and sober will approve. And Griswold was the member from Grand Isle, Where sky and land and water laugh and smile. His pleasant face bespoke his habitation Amid the isles that are the gem of all creation. From Caledonia came Dave and Darling, A goodly pair, though Dave was sometimes snarling. He monkeyed mostly with the Normal Schools, And said the world was made of him and fools. The Doctor thought his trade was underpaid, **We ought to raise the price of pills," he said, '*Naught else could rid the world of sinners faster. Nor pestilence, nor famine, nor disaster." Dave thought so too, and said, as I remember, He'd try a pill upon a certain member And if it proved an efficacious pill He'd vote with all his heart to pass the bill. Just who his victim was, he indicated, - I was the one he wished was medicated. 24 A VOICE OF THE HILLS From Windham came a Butler and our Adams, Their depth of wisdom measured by the fathoms; One tried to make the railroads advertise, One never could have lost a paradise. One ripe in years, one skillful at a trade. And both can claim a useful record made. From Windsor came a trinity of sages, A banker, lawyer, sheriff, made the three; So versed were they in wisdom of the ages That from our modern errors they were free. One had a sweetly face, one never smiled. The banker never showed that he was riled. From Chittenden a trio came. We called them, Norton, Max and Smith; No witch could choose a better name. Than one of these to conjure with. Max built an inn and tried to make us think He should be given rights to sell a drink. We listened to his argument and facts And said he might if he would pay the tax. So *tis that in the City by the Lake You'll find there's something for the stomach's sake. From Addison, where flows the Otter Creek, Came two, though one was never known to speak. But there's an ancient proverb of the race That silence golden is in any place. 25 A VOICE OF THE HILLS We knew his face concealed no sin or liquors, Though it was nearly hid behind his whiskers. The other loved a horse, as well as song, — A gentle man whom we shall treasure long. The Essex Senator was very dignified And thought that every question had a doubtful side. He doubted much the wisdom of the income tax And could not see that it agreed with him or facts. The temperance laws, he tinkered, mixed and mussed Until his colleagues fidgeted and cussed, And yet so worthy was his labor and his powess That in four years he jumped the State for Congress. From Bennington, there came a steady pair That worked the evener with contented air. A fleece of white adorned the Gushman head, While Archibald's was decked with auburn red. Why hair should differ when the men agreed Is unexplained by Harry Daniel's creed. What one might think, the other never doubted. Alike in thought, alike they always voted. So both were right or wrong in every case. But right or wrong they ran a goodly race. 26 A VOICE OF THE HILLS From Orleans came a Butterfield and Taplin Tall timber each, for neither was a saplin'. One was a veteran of the Civil War, The other bravely fought the gilded bar. Both were six feet or more without their shoes, Which was the better man, 'twas hard to choose. Old Orange County sent her contribution. But wished we had a different Constitution, For though she raised the best of beef and pork, She never could domesticate the stork. Her loss of population left her one. Where two had been who always weighed a ton. For Orange, worthy senators had sent, Whose energies on better laws were bent. In State expense had Scribner had his say. Less fault had been in what we had to pay. And few the errors that the critic blames In Seaver's careful scrutiny of claims. The Senators from Rutland numbered four. An Orange Senator explained the score: **Four men created on the Rutland plan Would barely match an Orange County man." To which a Rutland member made reply, **The Eunuch envies those who multiply." But four they were and made a handy team To row the boat across or up the stream. Hitchcock was rarely absent from his seat. While Barden sought to make a bigger State, 27 A VOICE OF THE HILLS And Clark was deep and wise in lore and law, And ready to detect a hidden flaw; His speech was brief, his eyes and hair were dark, His beard too short to make a patriarch. He was a pious man who hated sham, But Rutland habits caught him saying damn. The bravest of the four in serious battle Was Rutland's doughty member, Tuttle: He urged that each should die behind his gun, But sad to say was first to turn and run. He wisely chose the ancient hero's way Who ran awaj^ to fight some other day. From Washington we had a curious set. Judge Lyford, wise, — smoke that, and don't forget. And there was Harry, something out of order. The most peculiar man within our border. Whate'er the battle, he was ready with his gun To shoot at sight, or make us merry with his fun. And last the writer, something of an ass. Of no account or note, so let him pass. Such was the bunch of thirty men Whose like will rarely meet again. And have the right to wonder more and more Why people never thought of them before. 28 A VOICE OF THE HILLS WHAT THE BUNCH DID WE tackled every problem with a zest. For hedgehogs, rats and snakes we did our best. We gave the people honest weight and measure, For mileage took a little of their treasure, Prohibited monopoly and trust, By laws that made the corporation just. On bridge and road we spent the public money Until our acts appeared a little funny. We vainly tried by statutory force To hitch a lantern to the farmer's horse. We tried all ways to carry out our will But only left the heading of the bill. We gave the cows a third tubercle test Then stopped to let the farmer pay the rest. But as we worked we wondered more and more Why people never thought of us before. Among our number, two could lift a lofty strain With songs that thrilled the heart and lingered in the brain. As tedious labors ended Their harmonies were blended. But where policemen found their hats, they never could explain. 29 A VOICE OF THE HILLS To see two Senators in want and sore distressed With nothing on their heads, for reasons never guessed, To be sure, made us wonder more and more Why people never thought of them before. Our legislative road, at times a little rocky, Required all our skill but soon we found a jockey. When railroad magnets came and asked us for our aid He boldly took the floor and stumped them to a trade. He offered boot, but still they let the challenge go. Perhaps they knew the many scalps that he could show. And as he worked he wondered more and more Why people never thought of him before. And Harry caused a smiling ripple By asking that we ballot for the people. He seemed to be impressed, we had forgot, And only he was **Johnny-on-the-Spot." And as he worked he wondered more and more Why people never thought of him before. The Chairman of Committee on the Normal Schools, Reported that the dunces needed better stools. 30 A VOICE OF THE HILLS Some laughed, he said they might, he did not care a rap, He knew some folk that ought to wear the dunce's ' cap. But some contended Dave had missed his cal- culation, That changing stools would never meet the situation. But he was firm, he'd have the stools, he would not budge; We yielded, let him have a stool and made him judge. It was a funny way to drive a man to tipple. But Harry said 'twas right; a ballot for the people. And as we worked, we wondered more and more Why people Jiever thought of Dave before. We were a sober crew as ever sailed a ship. No liquor, hot or cold, had ever passed our lip. So Senate No. 1, about a licensed inn. Appeared an open door for gilded, sordid sin. It sprung a mighty row that shook the Senate Room Until the Goddess lost her balance on the dome, And never since, 'tis said, has felt herself at home. Then is it strange we wondered more and more Why people never thought of us before? 31 A VOICE OF THE HILLS We had another fight (I think it was trustee), But certainly I know, we never did agree. We threshed it out in many ways from start to close, Then put it in a pigeon hole to slumber and re- pose. What future fate it had, is not for me to tell, Nor say the wicked thoughts that wished it back in Will some good member name the word that rhymes with tell? I can't recall it but I know it has a sulphur smell. If none of you can aid I know who'll help me out. The Chaplain can supply a Bible word, no doubt. So as we fought we wondered more and more, Why people never thought of us before. There was another task we had to regulate, It was to solve the taxing problem of the State. We passed a bill and sent it over to the House Where Wisdom slipped around as slyly as a mouse. They nibbled it as though it were a piece of cheese. Then bit, threw up the head and swallowed it with ease. We'd won a victory and all were filled with joy And felt as when a school has loosened up a boy. For all would have a uniformity of tax, 32 A VOICE OF THE HILLS When, lo! as cocks were crowing, fell the veto axe. But as we worked we wondered more and more Why people never thought of us before. The mount that stands across the river And looks on Brattleboro's ancient town. Once had volcanic fires that made it quiver-, So run the legends that to us come down. Its fires are dead and all its thunders still, But in their stead, we have a famous bor- ough And if you want a fight that has a thrill You cannot beat the town of Brattleboro. We've seen the roaring lions in their cage And stopped to watch them snap and ramp and rage, But for a first class, up-to-date affair. With Brattleboro, nothing can compare. Four years ago there met two mighty dragons. As fierce as those in legends of the Saxons. Their long blue forms across the land were drawn, They fought from light to dark, from dark to dawn. They fought for rights of way beside the river, Their ponderous lunges made the mountains quiver. Their rights and wrongs, if any either had, Were so confused and mixed that all went mad. 33 A VOICE OF THE HILLS Their battle seemed at times a dance or spree But that it was a sight we all agree. We tried to arbitrate for all concerned, But disagreed, did nothing and adjourned. Some said we'd drawn and sown the dragon's teeth, But peace hath come, the sword hath found its sheath. So as we worked we wondered more and more Why people never thought of us before. My Muse must stop, with many left unsung. Their work and worth unsuited to a babbler's tongue. We've culled the meadows o'er and gathered weeds And left untouched the fruit of useful seeds. The world does thus. The dogs at fight or play Draw crowds that from a sage would turn away. The monkey on a pole will get the pennies. And wise philosophers be counted ninnies. If by the papers you attain a rank. You'll find yourself a jail-bird or a crank. If for the right you stand, a sturdy oak, They'll laugh and treat you as the latest joke. 34 A VOICE OF THE HILLS IN MEMORIAM^ ANOTHER chord we strike, 'tis one of sadness, Two empty chairs, to-night, must chill our gladness. Two souls have gone, as true to Duty's call As any, who have met the fate of all. Their genial presence, missed by us so soon. Has left a fragrance, sweet as flowers in June. We cannot speak the words their spirits might But we are thinking they would say to-night, - **Remember us in gladness, not in tears. **Let merry greetings fill your future years. ''Remember us, but let the symbol be *'The smiling flower, not the cypress tree. ''Your tears will fall to earth and do no more, "But joy hath wings to reach the other shore." I. Senators C. and S. 35 A VOICE OF THE HILLS CHRISTMAS WE love the story of the Nazarene, Born in a glory, man had never seen. A star shone on the path the wisemen trod In seeking for the birthplace of their God. An angel was the herald of the news: **A King is born to rule above the Jews!" The race from which He sprang denied His right, His claim divine was hateful in their sight. *'A greater one/' they said, **would come and reign And all the earth would follow in his train; The kings and emperors by men appointed Would bow before the throne of their annointed." They persecuted Him Who would redeem, Who wore, unstained, the robe without a seam. Who calmed the waves with power from the skies, Restored the blind and made the dead arise. By common things He taught and truth revealed Drew lessons from the lilies of the field. The empty lamps, the talents that the servant hid, And feast to which the multitudes were bid. 36 A VOICE OF THE HILLS That he might purge the world of sinful dross He underwent the passion of the Cross. He burst the tomb, His persecutors sealed And immortality to earth revealed. Although His head had not a place to lie He went to build us mansions in the sky. The ages pass, and now we hear again, The joyous news, heard on Judea's plain. That glorious message of the Manger's birth Which shepherds heard, — **Good will and peace on earth." 37 A VOICE OF THE HILLS A SALUTE* A MOTHER watched the lorries pass And saw their banners fly, Not thinking of a courtesy From soldiers riding by. She heeded not the cheering crowd But stood apart and mute, When lo, a soldier raised his cap And gave a glad salute. And every soldier passing by Like homage to her paid Until a thousand gallant lads Their courtesies had made. It was a gracious little deed That lifted half the weight Of sorrow from a mother's heart, Torn by a cruel fate. *Founded on an incident of American soldiers passing through a French city. 38 A VOICE OF THE HILLS It was a tribute to her sons Who fell beside the Marne When German hords were beaten back With legions rent and torn. The lads who doffed their caps had come To fight for bleeding France, To right the wrongs to Belgium done, To break a tyrant's lance. Upon some battle-field these lads May win the hero's prize. But what will match the kindly deed Which met that mother's eyes? 39 A VOICE OF THE HILLS PREPAREDNESS 1916 NO matter where you go, sport is the rage That fills the mind and heart of youth and age. Our patriot duties now are quickly done In burning Chinese crackers for our fun Or watching once a year our eagle sail While stars fly off a pinwheel on its tail. For volunteers our country sent her call; Less came prepared than crowd a college **bowr'. Is there no danger to the home and state, When we will watch a game while duties wait — Will boys whom we have taught to bat and kick. Defend us 'mid the perils black and thick? We do not doubt that they will have the will. But will they have the practice and the skill? No boy should wear the stunted form of toil Or know too soon life's battle and turmoil; But still before he reaches man's estate, He should be taught and trained to serve the state. 40 A VOICE OF THE HILLS We would not banish play; it has a place To make a happy, strong and vigorous race, But when it is more sought and prized than work, It breeds the fop, the slacker and the shirk. Greece lost her phalanx, kept her dance And none were found to meet the foe's advance. In primal days when hearts were strong and true Across the world, the Roman eagles flew; But when the shows of later days enthrall They perched upon the coliseum's wall. Oh for a Juvenal to flay our sins. Lest we forget before decay begins! 41 A VOICE OF THE HILLS JOSEPH A. DEBOER THE law is written: **Dust to dust returns," But noble lives are not enclosed by urns. The star shines on although its fires are dead And dark the place from which its rays were shed. We stand today beside his lifeless ashes But in the light that from his spirit flashes. Few of his mien and make will cross our path To make our deeds seem scattered aftermath. His civic worth, his moral dignity. His clear preceptions, stern integrity. His happy speech that vocalized his thought. The constancy with which his tasks were wrought, His earnest work in every line of duty. His mind so well endowed by nature's bounty. Ideals spread upon a generous plan,- All make us see God's image in the man. 42 A VOICE OF THE HILLS ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND' THERE is a veil that covers day, A darkness that will pass away. There is a frost upon the glass Through which the rays opaquely pass. There is a mist upon the stream Where sunlight made the crystals gleam. There is a cloud above the flowers Where dew is found in morning hours. How soon the night will turn to day And all the darkness pass away, How soon the frost will leave the pane And let the sunlight shine again, How soon the mist will leave the stream And let the darkened crystals gleam, How soon the cloud will break away That hides the jewels of the day. Are mysteries we may not solve And yet we know they will dissolve. The day, the crystals and the dew And broken rays will shine anew And he shall see as he was seen Through all the darkness that has been. I. Edmund M. Roscoe. 43 A VOICE OF THE HILLS BARRE ACADEMY HERE in our midst once stood a school, No classic shade around it grew, No columns dressed by Attic rule. No marble walls their shadows threw. A pillared porch adorned the front, A modest touch of ancient art. Above, a belfry square and blunt. That hardly seemed a crowning part. But not in pomp and circumstance Our greatest good and worth are found. The unpretentious school, perchance. May teach us learning deep and sound. For time and structure matter not. A lesson learned upon a log Is worth as much as though 'twere taught In hall of classic pedagogue. The light that shone from knots of pine Upon the page that Lincoln read, Illumined thoughts as true and fine As where a golden ray is shed. 44 A VOICE OF THE HILLS DEDICATION OF A SOLDIERS' MONUMENT THE hills from which you wrought this stone Have stood the ages through; The deeds our soldiers dead have done Like them are grand and true. The fairest realm is Nature's bane If heroes be forgot; The harvest yield is little gain If worth is treasured not. Count o'er your wealth of grain and gold- How poor beside the names That on our tablets are enrolled, - The children that are fame's. Amid these rocks and wooded hills Shall sleep this noble race, And mountains be the sentinels That guard their resting place. Not storied urn, but grassy sod Contains the mortal part; Their spirit is our heritage of God That liveth in the heart. 45 A VOICE OF THE HILLS The sons of men like these are free By what their fathers wrought; The fruits no vision can forsee, Of battles that they fought. We know not yet the distant lands O'er which our flag shall fly; We only know, in other hands, It's glory shall not die. The luster of their deeds shall shine Through all the coming years. Till men forget those deeds divine And valor disappears. This humble witness of our land May crumble into dust; The freedom of a race shall stand To mark their faith and trust. In benediction let us bow And lift a prayer of grace That we our gratitude may show And make this holy place. 46 A VOICE OF THE HILLS THE GLASS OF EIGHTY-THREE^^ YOU ask me for a sketch. What shall I say? What harvest toll since graduation day From winged years that pass so swiftly by I cannot count their milestones if I try? Of others, not of self, I'll sing today, Of olden times and scenes long past away. And short and sweet the story is in telling Of vanished scenes that in our minds are dwelling. I see again the Class of Eighty-Three, A lusty lot of lads you will agree, A happy, jolly set of Dartmouth men As ever swung a bat or pushed a pen. And whether from the hills or plains we came We had a worthy purpose just the same. We waded through old Quimby's mathe- matics Long since forgotten in our dusty attics. A few who were peculiar in their actions Went forward till they flunked in conic sections. Professor Hardy took the upper class But Tute^ had no descendants of the ass. 1. Written for a class history. 2. Tutor Worthen. 47 A VOICE OF THE HILLS Both classes worked till graduation day But which was best is not for me to say. Professor Hardy was so thin and slim, A line between two points resembled him. Although he wore the latest style of dress He made us know and would not let us guess. But Tute marked high when loudest was the noise At jokes he cracked upon his luckless boys. He loved applause and made the lessons easy With jests at us when we were mixed and hazy. How restively we warmed the classic bench While Parlez Vous^ instructed us in French; And all of us displayed our nerve and pluck Until we mastered physics under Chuck.^ We studied chemic atoms under Bob,^ A work that often made our temples throb. We chased those atoms through the formulae Although elusive as an Irish flea. They always seemed to be upon the wing And had no pesky necks that we could wring; But if, perchance, they were endowed with eyes They saw our marks were just about their size. Hitchcock, a saint of geologic fame. Who had a curious pseudonymic name. Tried hard to teach our sophomoric blocks The wonders found in strata and in rocks. 1. Prof. Pollens. 2. Prof. Emerson 3. Prof. Bartlett 48 CI a> o h 0^ u 03 -> •o u a o c 0) a (fi ^4 C3 MH 0) c» • »H CO •o 01 tn & o C3 ^ (» 0) •o ^ c ■M (S , 1 ^M ^4 0) C3 •o A S3 > <: A VOICE OF THE HILLS Professor Sanborn taught us how to speak, What models were the best for us to seek, How use our hands and arms to emphasize, How with our thoughts to let them fall or rise. Although specific were the rules he taught We pawed the air and lost our thread of thought. So when our thoughts went soaring to the skies, The hand might point to where the hot place lies. We spoke our pieces Friday, hangman's day, Upon the spot where Webster blazed away. The chapel platform seemed a rocking ship Forever ready for its final dip. The sickness of the sea cannot compare With all the shaky ills we had to bear. 'Twas worth the cost. There is no way to reach The hearts of others like the art of speech. Today, the skill to scribble on a stool Supplants the art once honored in the school. The eloquence that swayed the people's will No longer moves the legislative mill. No sparks of wisdom fly from mental flint When Solons only ask for leave to print. When senators must practice with a fork Because the tool is used in handling pork. All high debate is banished from the floor. We grant five minutes talk, then slam the door. Time gives the statesman rank (though 'tis a pity) And honored place on this or that committee. 49 A VOICE OF THE HILLS A service tag upon a money bag Is honor's prize for which we strut and brag. At church there is no crowd to jostle through Nor wake the devil sleeping in your pew, But multitudes will gather, sweat and loll To watch the fortunes of a game of ball. The preacher reads a dry-leaf invitation Inviting sinners to accept salvation. But Billy Sunday weilds the vocal rod And thousands hit the sawdust trail for God. Behold the hosts upon their mission sent When Hermit Peter woke a continent! The voice of Chatham leaning on his crutch Bade England rise with empires in her clutch. What bold and burning words did Henry fling Square on the forehead of a British king! Above the clash of swords and roar of guns Lloyd George proclaims the will of England's sons. The pen, though it be mightier than the sword, Has not the power of the spoken word. When God created Heaven, Earth and Men He used the tongue Himself and not the pen. He spoke, each star and planet took its station; He spoke, and light broke on the new creation. The two must differ as the weak and strong Because man made the pen, God made the ton- gue. 50 A VOICE OF THE HILLS But we digress. Let us resume our theme While Billy works the world's redemption scheme. We took a course of Latin and of Greek, Which few could read and none of us could speak. How eagerly we used to dig and pull To get Greek roots we found were tough and whole, Though Cadmus planted them so long ago I do not know the year, — perhaps you do. Some have the foolish notion they are dead Because they lift no trees above our head, But you will find they have the vital sap That bore the fruit that filled Athena's lap. And that they've grown and spread until they reach Through many varied forms of living speech. The words that Homer used, still fresh and terse, Are glorious settings of immortal verse. They bothered me and made me such a fool I once mistook a heifer for a bull. The whole class laughed, they had no better sense. Though they could make like blunders then and since. Jack^ stammered, hitched and blushed from ear to ear 1. Prof. Wright 51 A VOICE OF THE HILLS And said my reading was a little queer, For it he found no warrant in the text, And so he flunked me dead and called the next. We followed Caesar over mountains icy And heard him boasting, '*Veni, vidi, vici." Today they read it, **Wanee, weedee, weekee" And rhyme the famous bulletin with squeaky. But little more they know how Caesar said it Than Parker did who taught us how to read it. But let them wag their tongues a different way, We got the sense of it as quick as they. We studied hard great Caesar's ways and rules That might not meet the test in modern schools. In open field in terrible array He led his legions to the bloody fray. It matters not what sound he gave his vowels Who drove his sword into Helvetian bowels. A freshman tried to prove, the story runs. That Caesar used the latest style of Maxim guns. But Parker asked for facts about the secret And said he might have used a tennis racket; Or else the art of making guns was lost And buried by the side of Caesar's ghost. If found, the fancy and the facts might fit. The freshman blushed at the Professor's wit And many weeks he spent in ardous moil; But missed the facts in spite of all his toil. 52 A VOICE OF THE HILLS We sent that freshman to the whitewashed church^ Where barnyard fowls beneath the rafters perch. We read the eloquence of Cicero Denouncing Verres as an alien foe And sat with Horace on his Sabine farm Far from the city's roar and war's alarm. We heard Demosthenes beside the sea Or thundering to his fierce Democracy. We took a humble seat in Plato's school And conned the thoughts that through the ages rule. We knew that Virgil would have written English Had he but known how Latin caused us anguish. We cursed him not because he made us toil And gladly burned for him our midnight oil. He sang the wrath Achilles wrought on Troy, The joys and sorrows of her wandering boy. We read his pleasant story grandly told And loved it then, and love it now we're old. He missed one joy, and that was Johnny Lord,^ Who could explain each doubtful tense and word, For Johnny was the boy upon the spot 1. A white-washed barn known as the Freshman's Church. 2. Prof. Lord 53 A VOICE OF THE HILLS To trip us in the Latin we forgot. He always could explain the reason why When Virgil's facts and story went awry. We thought Anchises made a heavy load As brave Aeneas bore him down the road. But what of that? He found the goodly ships That bore him through the seas to Dido's lips, And Cupid soon arranged the marriage plans But jealous Jupiter forbade the banns. Naught else to do, Aeneas changed his mind And sailed away and left a queen behind; And that is how he came to Latium's shore And set a line a thousand years and more. No doubt, Achilles thought he was some boy When dragging Hector round the walls of Troy. Less glorious, perhaps, it was more funny, To see us prance upon a college pony. Our doughty steed, with neck unclothed in thunder, Trotted through the classic lands without a blunder. He switched his tail and stamped upon the sod And ate his oats and let old Homer nod. He had no wings to skip the mountain tops But kept good time with all the rhythmic stops. He was an ever present useful beast And surely does deserve a tear, at least. 54 A VOICE OF THE HILLS We heard Pa Leeds, who preached in mono- tones And found his sermons in the sleepy stones, For had he found them in the noisy brook. We would have missed the naps we often took. But if, perchance, he left our hearts unreached We knew full well he practised what he preached. We see old Prexy^ with his hat and cane And hear his salutation sound again,- '*Good morning, sir," he said, with courtly bow Abending to the right and somewhat low. His presence active, austere and alert Made shivers creep beneath the freshman*s shirt. Of scant proportions, short in stature The gods endowed him with a virile nature. To emphasize that none should be a shirk And punctuate his prayers, his head would jerk. In Christian scholarship both rich and sound, His like is rare in all the world around. We see old Dartmouth Hall, three stories high. With belfry limned against the northern sky. What fond associations gather there! What memories are haunting hall and stair! How musical its chapel bell appears With gathered sweetness of a hundred years! 1. Pres. Bartlett. 55 A VOICE OF THE HILLS Its frame, a product of the woodman's axe; So strong, it seemed like one of Nature's facts. Its window blinds were green, its walls were white Yet dear they were as seen in any light. At morn, how often dreading monitors. We rushed from breakfast storming through its doors; For we had learned he was a luckless chap Whose sleep had caused an absence for a nap. Though life therein was frolicsome and glad, Its rooms were simple as the Spartans had, Warmed by the stoves that burned the living coal And not by pipes that run from hole to hole And seem to reach into the nether world Where lost and unrepentant souls are hurled. Upon our hearths no rats could toast their toes Nor here and there in warm partitions doze. Although we woke to wash in frozen bowls Our fingers dingy with the smutty coals. Who would exchange the glowing cheerful grate For hissing pipes that fill the soul with hate? What else can satisfy the heart's desire In equal measure with a genial fire? You feel its glow and let your fancy play While magic castles rise and fade away. You watch the rings that float upon the air, Frail barks, but strong to bear away your care. 56 A VOICE OF THE HILLS How oft a fire inspires the poet's muse Until his thoughts in forms of beauty fuse! The student's room, indeed, has lost a charm Whose atmosphere the new devices warm. One part may have a special interest That some may favor over all the rest. But who forgets the Alley known as Bug Where **beasties" nestled in the beds so sung, And took their lawless exercise at night And woke the sleeper with their vicious bite? That made the freshmen choose, they felt so limpy. To sleep on stones down in the Vale of Tempe? What theme were this had Bobby Burns been there Who sang the louse upon a lady's hair And prayed the gods so strong the gift **to gie us" That we might see ourselves as others see us? Although unsung the bug was not uncursed By every soul that felt the wounds he nursed. And though the specie is, perhaps, extinct Its name is with a famous Alley linked. Some say the oculist had less to do When pine knots lit the page our fathers knew, Or that the eyes were strong and unabused When harpoon oil or tallow dips were used. We will not now discuss the kinds of light But turn again to Dartmouth Hall at night. 57 A VOICE OF THE HILLS When student lamps and not electric films Shone through the panes upon the campus elms. Methinks those panes were windows of the soul That indistinctly lit our future goal! Its corridors then echoed to the tread Of feet that sought the path where Duty led; Its stairs, if not the golden ones of fame, Were steps to heights where shines an honored name. At last the furies claimed it for their prey And in an hour its form had passed away. But from its ashes sprang a structure new That to the olden purpose will be true. But this we know, that after all is told, In all the new, we cannot find the old. Some feet that woke the echoes of the hall Will ne'er return except at Fancy's call; Some voices joyous in our college sports Will ne'er be heard except in Memory's courts. Not all the gods of earth possess the power To bring us back a vanished day or hour. No tears we shed, no words that we can say. Restore companions of our work and play. We will not close with light and flippant phrase Concerning those who well deserve our praise. Our debt of gratitude we gladly pay To each professor of our college day; 58 A VOICE OF THE HILLS True teachers when they praised or chided us, Philosophers who wisely guided us. Their labors were too poorly paid on earth, Their final prize shall better suit their worth. The most of them have passed beyond the bar Whose sea is lighted by the promised star,- Examples of a Christian chivalry, Each soul, a name of blessed memory. A few remain, a trinity is all;^ Long may they live before the shadows fall! 1. Since this was written, I have learned that more than three old professors are living in 1917. 59 A VOICE OF THE HILLS THE FOUNDER OF DARTMOUTH FAR up beneath the northern stars Where landscapes lay in quietude And northern lights in rainbow bars Streamed o'er a primal solitude, Far from the sounds of busy marts And rush and din of peopled street, Where unmolested roamed the harts In paths untrod by human feet, 'Twas there a seed of learning fell That lifts a form as God had planned : In sun and storm it groweth well And twice a thousand years shall stand, And who was he who set the seed? No scion of a royal line, - He was a man of common breed Yet one whose clay was moulded fine. But whether prophet, saint or sage Let others say who better know, For we shall our opinion gauge By what his patient labors show. 60 A VOICE OF THE HILLS We see him on the forest road, Afaring north with rum and books, His oxen tugging at their load ,- How wild the whole adventure looks! We laugh and jest about his rum. His many oddities of creed And smile at his curriculum That poorly meets our present need. To judge by these would do him wrong; They measure not his life and plan. Beneath them lay his manhood strong Through which a noble purpose ran. How oft we fain would mold anew The figures of the elder days. As if our power could make more true The forms who trod heroic ways. We spin the wheel with 'prentice skill And think our work will little lack Until at last, for all our will. We find we've made a jumping jack. But gods of old could spin the wheel, — Though here a mole upon the cheek Or there a spot upon the heel Their forms did live and move and speak. 61 A VOICE OF THE HILLS Our founder had, as you may say, His share of foibles and of faults; But did he not pursue his way. Led by a purpose that exalts? Here in the wold he built a fire Not fed by withered leaves and wood But by the soul's unquenched desire To spread the love of Christianhood. Though you and I have lived to see A rich fruition of his work We cannot see what yet shall be The good a distant age shall mark. Fame's trumpet louder may have blown Elswhere; but while these hills shall stand They'll keep, as treasure of their own. An impress of his heart and hand. 62 A VOICE OF THE HILLS A SCRAP OF PAPER '*>Mr^IS nothing but a scrap of paper, -»■ A covenant that time has made absurd, So fold it in a dusty wrapper And lay aside a Nation's broken word.''* When will the martial conflicts cease, If solemn bond is but an idle deed? When will the thousand years of peace Be ushered in, if faith's a broken reed? Not till the faithless kings are gone And earth is bound in universal law. And all who stand beneath the sun. Shall hold our God and his decrees in awe. * Refers to Von Bethman-Hollweg's declaration respecting the treaty guaranteeing the neutrality of Belgium. 63 A VOICE OF THE HILLS VISION OF PEACE THE vision that the prophets saw, Shall be fulfilled beneath the law; A thousand years shall be a day And twice a thousand pass away, Yet peace shall wear a smiling face And wars no longer vex the race. The swords and spears shall turn to shares, The wheat shall grow without its tares, The laden ships go down to sea, The rivers flow unvexed and free. And far and wide the deserts bloom. Their fairest flower, the freeman's home. 64 Had Adam been a little wise, And given Eve a taste of trout, He might have saved the paradise From which mankind was driven out. (P. 78) A VOICE OF THE HILLS A SCOTCH FRIEND^ FROM Scotland's heathered land he came When life was in its prime, The new world's hope had lured him on To seek our newer clime. He wore no title, brought no wealth Except the manhood given. The like of which if multiplied Would make the earth a heaven. A generous soul as we have known And quietly he wrought; Whatever gift one hand might give The other knew it not. None envied him what he had gained By honest toil and thrift, For many shared with him that gain By many a private gift. "Here fellah, tak' it for the bairns." Such was his Scottish burr, But kindlier tone is rarely heard To set the heart astir. 1. George B. Milne. 65 A VOICE OF THE HILLS Although the world may send us dregs, It sometimes sends its best, And such was he whom we have loved And now have laid to rest. 66 A VOICE OF THE HILLS LAKE CHAMPLAIN OLAKE! a light of olden skies Is on thy surface shining, A glory and a splendor lies Around thy shores undying. The memories of distant years Upon the soul are thronging, Recalling all the hopes and fears To other times belonging. Here England came with armied host That bore the cross and dragon; And France her northern empire lost In the struggle with the Saxon. Here sprang the hopes that tyrants mocked From thrones beyond the ocean; And on these gentle waves was rocked The cradle of a Nation. These skies, these hills, these waters blue. Have trembled with the thunder When Freedom's cause was born anew And bondage broke asunder. 67 A VOICE OF THE HILLS From northern bound to southern keep The battlements are leveled; In peace of God the heroes sleep Where savage foes have reveled. No more the sounds of savage war Shall echo through these mountains, Where bloodless now the rivers pour The waters of their fountains. The hostile fires that lit the shore Shall ne'er again be lighted; These prospects fair shall grow to more And ne'er again be blighted. The sounds and cries of savage dance, That broke the primal stillness, Have gone, like chivalry of France And England's mighty prowess. In thought alone, the woodland bell Is ringing as we listen, And casts on us a magic spell As midnight waters glisten. The warrior bands of spirit land Around these islands hover, And meet upon the forest strand To count their trophies over. 68 A VOICE OF THE HILLS The winds that o'er these waters sweep Are freighted with a story That dusty archives never keep Of legendary glory. The spirits of Montcalm and Stark, Of Amherst, Howe and Allen, Like stars, this firmament shall mark As sacred to the fallen. For hero souls, as legends say. Are stars within the azure And shed a light upon our way That mortals cannot measure. 69 A VOICE OF THE HILLS COLUMBUS WHEN God in bounty gave this earth to man, With all its priceless treasures blessed, It was a part of his eternal plan That they should be an endless quest. He spreads his lands beneath the distant skies And pours his oceans round them all Till many a land, a lost Atlantis lies Beyond the deeps where dread horizons fall. He gave no chart or sail for all his seas. No guide to treasures of his lands. But bound them all in fearful mysteries. Yet left the key in human hands. From land to land through ages of the past, Through desert sand and trackless wood. The pioneer did press, until at last The ocean in his pathway stood. The feeble eye could see the vast expanse, Horizons bent to waters blue, The endless billows in an endless dance That stretched to shores that no one knew. 70 A VOICE OF THE HILLS Along those pathways of the mighty deep The stars had never seen a sail; Alone, the thunder broke the monster's sleep When o'er the waters swept the gale. The wonders of the deep appalled the soul, The strength of distance, storm and tide Defied the puny craft of man's control And mocked and baffled all his pride. Of all the generations, who would dare To seek the course of setting sun And lay the mysteries and wonders bare That baffled hope since time begun? Yes, who? How long before the answer comes! What noble heart will say, **I dare"? How long will man keep building little Romes When larger worlds might be his share? What pittance of a border war's expense. Could spread the sail and lay the keel To solve the age-long problem of suspense, And break the bond of Nature's seal. At last, beneath the humble cotter's roof. Endowed with inate strength and worth. Was born the soul that dared the toil of proof. To solve the riddle of the earth. 71 A VOICE OF THE HILLS He pushed his prow into an unknown sea Until the needle lost its star ^ And fearful mysteries that had no key Spread o'er the waste that had no bar. With unfamiliar stars the skies were sown As from the ancient shore he drifted Into a realm where sails had never flown, Where neither isle nor headland lifted. All hearts were faint, all minds were filled with fear, Lest legends of the sea be true That monsters of the ocean would appear To swallow up the ship and crew.^ What anxious hours, what vigils of the night. What search of sea and sky for sign That their frail caravels were steering right To prove the plan of God's design ! 1. As he sailed westward, Columbus discovered that the needle deflected more and more from the North Star and anticipating the superstitious fears of his pilots he invented the theory that the deflection was due to the revolu- tion of the star in its orbit. 2. At the time Columbus sailed there was a superstitious belief that somewhere in the western ocean was the end of the world inhabited with huge monsters capable of swallowing a ship. 72 A VOICE OF THE HILLS A floating weed, a drifting piece of wood, The flight of birds that haunt the land. The golden mist that 'round the horizon stood Were tokens of the longed-for strand. At last a ray of light shone through the dark. The watchers whispered, **Did you see?" And eagerly they gazed and watched the spark That flashed across the midnight sea. It disappeared. Was it the witches' light? Who kindled it? What might it mean? Would morning bring a continent in sight Along the pathway of its sheen? What moments change our fate! The coming morn Might change the course of destiny. No land and dread of dangers to be borne Might lift the hand of mutiny. The Admiral alone possessed the faith That kept the rudder to the west. In spite of doubt or dread or water wraith He bore the burden of his quest. Beyond the line where sky to water dips He saw the shores of old Cathay; Its spicy harbors, filled with men and ships That crossed the world by th' western way. 73 A VOICE OF THE HILLS He saw the walls of old Jerusalem Whose streets the paladins had trod. He'd arm a host and win a diadem As victor at the tomb of God.^ It was his dream, but what a dream it was! It lured him onward to his goal, And proved the truth of everlasting laws That rule the earth from pole to pole. The earth was round! And superstition died When on the distant island shore The great Columbus knelt with humble pride And kissed the sands of Salvador. 3. Columbus intended to devote the wealth derived from his discoveries to a new crusade for the recovery of the holy sepulchre. 74 A VOICE OF THE HILLS MODERN WAR THE winds of the north, the winds of the south Are hot with the flames of the cannon's mouth And mingled with the scent of the flowers Is the stench of the flesh the rat devours. Did the barbarous Hun in the far off days Ever ply his art in the murderous ways That are used by the Christ-taught children of light In order to win in the martial fight? The lurid flame of the death-giving gas That withers our sons as it withers the grass, The smoke that chokes in the throat and the lungs And burns in the eyes and blisters the tongues, The sharks that swim in the ocean caves And laugh at the child that sinks in the waves. The dragons that fly through the regions of air And drop from their wings with a dastard's care The missiles that fall on the sleeping land To do the work of the devil's own hand,- All of these, great God, and a thousand more Are daily things in a modern war. 75 A VOICE OF THE HILLS THE ODD FELLOW AND who are you? The fellow counted odd And proud as any who may tread the sod. Of friendship, love and truth you wear the sign Your Order gives that life be noble and benign. You eke the widow's mite, the orphans' share, That none may lack the needful dole and care. Your lineage backward runs a hundred years But forward long as men have grief and tears. Three links are all you number in your chain, But round the world they reach and back again And millions have they bound and yet will bind In brotherhood as broad as humankind. It matters not what distance you may roam. In every lodge you find a brother and a home. No star that watches out its nightly course. No spring that gushes from its pebbled source, Can better symbolize your thought and deed Than your three links — your bond of help and need. Then sing the links that bind a brotherhood In noble acts of charity and good. The sum of happiness for age and youth Is ever found in friendship, love and truth. These are the angels three that will attend Till every man in each shall find a friend. 76 A VOICE OF THE HILLS SIR ISAAC'S SPORT OF all the arts that men employ To satisfy their love of pleasure, What other yields a greater joy Or fills the heart with fuller measure, Than angling in a mountain stream Where air and sun at best appear. Where landscapes lie as in a dream And all the world is free of care? There in and out, 'neath bank and root. In shyness dart the finny prey; Across the pebbles see them shoot As swift as is the lightning's ray; Or poised against the current's force, - An image in the crystal mirror,- They drink the drafts of the woodland source; Then frightened flee away in terror. No awkward hand can win a bite And give them courage for the hook; By skillful throw, the fly must light As if it flew into the brook. They know a clown when one appears; His stumbling step and halting way, To sharpest eyes and keenest ears. The danger of the hook betray. 77 A VOICE OF THE HILLS No angler who has learned his art Will cast a shadow, make a sound At which the finny prey will start,- Success in gentleness is found. And that is why, it's often said. The anglers win in love and sport, For how can trout or pretty maid Resist the charms with which they court? What simple means! A bit of cork That ripples cause to rise and fall, A worm upon a silver fork, A rod, a line and lead are all. But great results are often due To little things that we despise. No better feast hath king than you When fish upon the platter lies. In ev'ry brook the heavens lie So fishes are a heavenly brood; The angler casts into the sky And catches there an angel's food. Had Adam been a little wise And given Eve a taste of trout He might have saved the Paradise From which mankind was driven out. The serpent with his cunning guile Could not have made the apple seem As tempting as a woman's smile And caused the fall we must redeem. 78 A VOICE OF THE HILLS THE CHILD AND THE STARS I SAW the stars lie on the river's bed, They seemed as real as those above my head. I cast a pebble on the sleeping stream, And, lo! they danced as in a troubled dream. A child laughed at my side and asked me why I did not make the stars dance in the sky. I flung a pebble at the distant blue; She laughed and watched it as it upward flew. But when she saw it fall she ceased her laughter Because they did not dance as in the water. I tried to tell her why, but little more She learned from me than what she knew before. How little did I know the starry mist. Her knowledge went as deep as mine, I wist. Into the secrets of the Maker's plan By which the stars shall shine and baffle man. 79 A VOICE OF THE HILLS THE DONNAR OAK DEEP in the forest gloom of Hesse There grew a mighty oak, And from its heart, as people thought, The voice of Donnar spoke. This Donnar was a heathen god To whom the Germans prayed; This oak his home, where all were blessed Who stood within its shade. But with an axe one festal day A priest hewed down the oak\ And as it fell beneath his blows, A bond of error broke, They watched his blows expecting wrath To fall upon his head. But unavenged the giant fell And faith in it was dead. 1. In the seventh century the Irish missionary, Boniface, cut down an oak from which the Germans believed their god, Donnar, spoke. 80 Each night the sky shall drop its stars Into the crystal water, And write his name in golden bars For all the ages after. (P. 90) A VOICE OF THE HILLS How oft we seek divinities And find them made of wood! How oft we glorify a thing That's neither great nor good! The faith that hound the forest children To think a tree divine Is like the one that holds today Where flows the river Rhine. Not in an oak hut camp and court The present god is found Who claims a scepter from the sky As one by Heaven crowned. "Vice-regent on the earth am I, So let my will be done; So let my armies win for me A place within the sun." It is an error born anew That held the world in thrall; An error that we must destroy Lest freedom's temple fall. 81 A VOICE OF THE HILLS HONEST JOHN' t^T^IS not by any set and formal plan -■- That Nature makes her finest creature, man; Nor does she on the outer form unroll The beauty, strength and value of the soul. She has a purpose in her forms of clay But why they differ so, we cannot say. She gave an ugly face to Socrates And to Adonis, gave a form to please. The former taught the world philosophy. The latter showed it pride and vanity. Although uncouth in manners, form and dress We love our Nation's Martyr none the less. Our brother boasted not of outward grace Yet few more wished to fill an honored place. By service and by deed he truly won The worthy sobriquet of Honest John. He had no double meaning when he spoke. We trusted to the word he never broke; 1. John H. Senter. 82 A VOICE OF THE HILLS A lover and a student of the law, The line twixt right and wrong he tried to draw. Yes; valiantly he ran the race of life And won a goal of unemhittered strife, Forgotten now let all his frailties be,- 'Tis lawyer, friend and citizen we see. 83 A VOICE OF THE HILLS THE REUNION AT GETTYSBURG (1913) THE years have flown, two score and ten, Since twice a hundred thousand men Were locked in mighty deadly strife To take or keep the Nation's life. God willed this crescent hill should be A trysting place of destiny; This gentle valley, golden then. Should be a human slaughter pen. He willed the masters here should bleed For centuries of sin and greed ; Their blood be poured upon this sod To satisfy the wrath of God And make secure the Fathers' plan,- The noblest heritage of man. Here Lee hurled forth the matchless corps, Whose deeds shall echo ever more,- A thunder bolt to clear the way Where stood the guns of Doubleday. Though faster fell the iron hail, And longer grew the bloody trail. And men like stubble withered fast. Before the cannon's fiery blast. 84 A VOICE OF THE HILLS And from the earth the red streams gushed Where hellish missiles cut and crushed; It mattered not, — in perfect form They marched into the fiery storm. They swept the slope and stormed the crest And part way through the ramparts pressed; Then man to man the battle rages To solve a question of the ages. So short the flame, it seems a spark, So close, it burns the bullet's mark. The shouts and cries that rend the air. The curse that dies in smothered prayer, The surge and tug of the seething mass. The lines that break like brittle glass. The breach through which the rebels swarm. The furious rush to meet the storm. The heaps of dead in pools of blood, (The ghastly dunes of the crimson flood,) The clash of arms and roar of guns, All tell how fierce the tempest runs Where back and forth the standards reel As columns bend before the steel. How long, O God, can last the battle Where men are slain like driven cattle? It seems an age. *Tis but an hour That sinks or lifts a people's power. 85 A VOICE OF THE HILLS The tumult dies and loud and clear Rings out the joyous Northern cheer. The host that came in brave array Is but a splendor passed away; While o'er the cloud that hid the slope God built a bow of glorious hope. No braver charge, no braver stand, Is found in any age or land. The fury that assailed this ridge Once swept across the Lodi bridge, And rode at Balaklava's charge, - A deed that gilds the British targe. But the spirit of Thermopylae Lives in the hearts of men born free; It nerved the arms that held this crown And beat the Southland's fury down. Today a Nation mourns her sons, Alike the true and erring ones; Upon the graves of all she lays The cypress branch and laurel bays. For like in honor fell the brave Beneath the north or southern stave. Cast in heroic mould was each. And both shall unborn ages teach Devotion, tried in blood and flame That consecrates the soldier's name. 86 A VOICE OF THE HILLS All honor to the Blue and Gray That meet beneath one flag today; The bitterness of strife forgot Upon the field for which they fought. Their eyes beheld a wonder born; Upon the banners rent and torn They saw the withering flame of war Rekindle each extinguished star, And long as shall our banners fly The kindled glory shall not die. They purged the nation of its dross; Reset, as guide, the Christian cross Upon this western shore of earth, Where men are free by right of birth. 87 A VOICE OF THE HILLS OVER THE TOP. /^VER the top we go tomorrow, ^^ Though shot and shell may rend our ranks, To win the foeman's trenches narrow In the wake of the lumbering tanks. Over the top with cheer and jest To race with death through No Man's Land, And answer to the hero's test In the hour by destiny planned. Over the top with thoughts of home Where moistened eyes may read **In case," Writ by the light where cannons boom And the flare of the shells in our face. Over the top beneath drum fire And through the clouds of poisoned gas, That float along, a funeral pyre. Like the fumes of the Witches' grass. 88 A VOICE OF THE HILLS Over the top and some will fall, Their blood will sink and harvests grow Where flocks shall hear the shepherd's call When the sun in the West is low. Over the top without a fear And some will see our banners fly, And win and wear the croix de guerre While their comrades in glory lie. 89 A VOICE OF THE HILLS A CHEVALIER AS brave and tender was Ghamplain, As any whom we treasure; To him a soul was greater gain Than empire's amplest measure. The ways of tolerance he trod When faith was cold and bitter; He gave his life to France and God, To make a people better. Each night the sky shall drop its stars Into the crystal water And write his name in golden bars For all the ages after. 90 A VOICE OF THE HILLS ROCK DUNDER HERE stands the rock, the Mohawk bound. The warrior's savage altar; The peaceful waves that ripple round Have oft been red with slaughter. For none of all the northern lands Below its line could venture,* Except to fight the Mowhawk bands. The fiercest sons of Nature. ^Tradition says the Mohawks inflicted death upon all who ventured south of a line drawn east and west of Rock Dunder. 91 A VOICE OF THE HILLS PRESENTING DINING SET TO A PASTOR YOU came to guard a wayward flock, You brought the zeal of youthful years; You stand upon the Christian rock That shelters hope against our fears. Your guidance leads to pleasant ways, Beyond the font with broken bowl, Where God his golden pavement lays And builds the temple of the soul. But Eden's loss has left us needs, The flesh is heir to daily care; The soul may feed on heavenly creeds But bodies live on daily fare. We bring you that on which to spread The earthly bounties of your Lord ; On which to break the blessed bread Your humble pittance may afiord. Yet enemies shall never see A sumptions feast before them spread, For enemies can never be Where Love and Kindness break the bread. 92 A VOICE OF THE HILLS Your manly ways, your careful thought, The manners of your tempered mind. Are witnessed in the gift we've brought To show that works are things that bind. May grace upon your table rest As you its bounties shall partake; Let us in spirit be your guest And find it blessed to give and take. 93 A VOICE OF THE HILLS OUR CHARMS THERE are flowers that bloom on our hills That in beauty and fragrance excel; There are songs that are sung by our rills That are casting a magical spell. In our deep wooded dells you will find, Not the diamonds you cut for a crown, But the flowers and grasses combined That the hands of the fairies have sown. You may search through the earth as you will In the climes that are famous in story, But the grandest of splendor is still In our mornings and sunsets of glory. 94 A VOICE OF THE HILLS SENATOR L. BY one our number's growing less, By one we'll answer to the call; Who next, we neither know nor guess, Will be the one to fall. Since last we met, has passed a brother. Whom we could proudly call a peer. As years shall pass and we shall gather For him we'll drop a tear. We see him now, so full of years That he had passed the Bible limit, Yet well he bears his weight of cares In toiling towards the summit. His memory is not a sorrow. His name and worth remain a pleasure, A cup of joy for each tomorrow, With overflowing measure. 95 A VOICE OF THE HILLS SENATOR B. QWIFT comes the light, swift falls the dark, ^ Swift spins the wheel that shapes the clay; Ere we a form can clearly mark It is a shadow passed away. How short the years since all were strong And parting seemed an intermission As if the time would not be long Before we met again in session. Five times since then we've gathered here:^ Each time an absent one was noted, Each time a voice we failed to hear Until five vacant chairs are counted. Tonight we miss another form, Of stalwart build and pleasant feature; Whose heart for all beat true and warm Because he had a kindly nature. 1 . Senate Chamber. 96 Though leaves may fall, the tree is sound, Its heart no frost nor rust can harm; With roots spread in the genial ground It smiles in sun and laughs in storm. (P. 114) A VOICE OF THE HILLS He served his country in her needs, His State in legislative hall, Society by useful deeds, - A faithful servant to them all. We lay a wreath upon his chair In attitude of silent prayer, And trust the sea beyond the bar Is lighted by the promised star. 97 A VOICE OF THE HILLS SENATOR G. THE pleasant isles of Lake Champlain Are jewels in a sun-kissed main. What better place for him to dwell, Whose life was true, whose work was well? With modesty he bore his part. And sought no gain by trick or art. No boisterous ways, no loud pretense, E'er marred his course of common sense. He came to us in manhood's prime; We thought not of his measured time. His health and vigor prophesied A length of days, ere ebbed the tide Of life, that flowed so full and strong,- But none, alas, may tarry long! Among the first his race is run,- If all would run as straight a one The earth, a fairer, better place Would be for all the human race. 98 A VOICE OF THE HILLS DARTMOUTH REUNION DEAR Alma Mater, mother of us all, From east and west, we gladly come, A happy throng, in answer to thy call That bids thy children gather home. We see thy graciousness increased with years. We count no wrinkles on thy brow. Still beautiful and young thy face appears; As first we saw, we see thee now. Unchanged, save in the circumstance of dress, We view again thy stately mien And gazing on thy present loveliness. With childhood ardor, call thee Queen. Methinks thy cradle was a wind-rocked bough. Thyself, an orphan of the forest. Thy birthplace hath become an altar now Where thousands worship thee as dearest. With unshod feet let us approach thy shrine, Let all our vows be loyal ones. And from thine eyes let love and blessing shine Upon thy proud and gathered sons. 99 A VOICE OF THE HILLS SOLDIERS' MONUMENT* THE war drums beat no more to bloody fray, The march is done for both the Blue and Gray, The music of the fife, the cannon's roar. Shall thrill the heart and stir the brain no more. The Southern fields that once were dank and red Are sacred urns that hold the ashes of our dead. The battle flags that floated on the breeze. Are locked in dusty glass with rusty keys. Is this our all? Our tribute to the brave? How little, paltry, for the much they gave! Each mart should have its monumental stone To keep alive the deeds our dead have done. If we would half as freely give our gold. As they their blood, for rights we sacred hold. We'd blush no more to think we had forgot At what a price the Nation's life was bought. Upon this City of our pride shall rest a shame As long as we neglect the soldier's fame; The granite of our hills should turn to dust Until we make of it a shrine of trust. ^Written in 1914 to aid in raising funds for a soldiers* monument at Barre, Vermont. 100 A VOICE OF THE HILLS What kind of men are we that build for others The monuments that we refuse our brothers. Oh! Let the hand forget its cunning craft That builds for them no monumental shaft. We profit in our trade by th' blood they shed, And turn to gold the ashes of our dead. Awake! 'Tis duty calls to pay the debt,- The sacred bond, whose seal in blood was set. The finest stone when wrought with finest art Will be a paltry payment on our part. A blessing to the givers it will be To honor those who made our country free. 101 A VOICE OF THE HILLS THE STATES TO CANADA IN western skies we find our star of hope, And though we set a different flag or trope To mark the boundaries between our lands, Across those bounds we gladly clasp the hands. On either side sits Peace, and Plenty smiles Along our border of three thousand miles; And let us pray we'll count as many years Before an inch is wet with blood or tears. Although the North and South shall ever be Divided by a line from sea to sea, The men who own a common motherhood Shall find a glory in their brotherhood. And if the twentieth century be yours. In measure as the cycle gone was ours. We will not envy you your happy lot Nor let the ties of kindred be forgot. L'envoi. Then let us place your maple leaf Beside our mountain golden rod So that the two shall make a sheaf To symbolize the will of God. 102 A VOICE OF THE HILLS THE BATTLE OF PLATTSBURG BAY IT was a bright September day, When ships of war at anchor lay Within the arms of Plattsburg Bay, All decked in war's array. Behold the stars and stripes afloat From tallest ship to smallest boat. While loud and clear the bugle's throat Sounds forth the martial note. Responsive comes the sailor's cheer, And all the decks for action clear As England's prows are sweeping near, Inspiring doubt and fear. Oh! strong the sons of the island State, In all the deeds of battle great; The far spread seas their orders wait As on the law of fate. A thousand years of sun and gale Have beat upon their deck and sail And oft they've seen the foeman quail Before their iron hail. 103 A VOICE OF THE HILLS But tars, whose home is on the deep, Whose flag through freedom's sky would sweep. Today beneath the waves shall sleep While England's daughters weep. For here Macdonough's ships, like rock. Shall stand against their battle shock And cheering crews and crowing cock* Old England's pride shall mock. And Freedom's sons with cannon stroke. Amid the thunder and the smoke, Shall smite the vaunted walls of oak Till none remain unbroke. Though valiantly the Brittons die. Their flag no more shall sweep our sky But stars and stripes alone shall fly Where Ghamplain's waters lie. 'Twas thus old England's banner fell. Where hottest raged the battle hell. And few her tars who lived to tell The tale of shot and shell. ♦One of the first shots from the English fleet released a rooster from a coop on the American flag ship. The rooster flew upon the rail of the ship and began to crow, whereat all the sailors cheered. 104 A VOICE OF THE HILLS NEW YEAR'S EVE IN CHURCH WE stand upon the threshold of a new year's grace And each and all are keeping time with God*s eternal sun. Within the gracious precincts of this sacred place, Our presence here should show each Sab- bath's duty done. The melodies that cheered the Christian ages gone Will fill the heart with hope and fresher courage give; The words repeated here of Heaven's begotten Son Are orisons to guide the wayward lives we live. This dedicated place is inspiration's home, Beside our troubled waters stands this Christian altar; Here in our path the rays that lit the manger come. That we may onward press, despite the feet that falter. 105 A VOICE OF THE HILLS Sustained by strength that holds the planet in its course, Surrounded by a love like ocean, bounding all. Persuaded to the right by strong yet gentle force, We find the way where nine should falter, none should fall. 106 A VOICE OF THE HILLS THE ANGLERS IT'S many virtues anglers have, They never lie about their fish; They know they have their souls to save And are as truthful as you wish. They keep the law and Gospel too, And tell you just the length of each; If you should search their baskets through You'd find they practice what they preach. **The trout I lost," if one should say, *'Was long as is the longest arm And twenty pounds or more would weigh," Don't wince, be credulous and calm. Don't answer in a sneering tone And choke and hem and make a muss As if your throat had caught a bone,- Just swallow it without a fuss. A doubting Thomas has no friends. He doubts us all and all doubt him; Believe and you will reach your ends And catch the biggest fish that swim. The angler is another Job, He must be patient at his task; If you should seek around the globe What greater patience can you ask? 107 A VOICE OF THE HILLS If th' line gets tangled with a root And minnies eat away the bait, If th' angler slips and wets a foot, He does not curse and swear at fate. For does not Walton truly say They know that swearing does not pay. But drives the fish from hook and net. Had prophet Jonah been profane A whale would ne'er have been his ark; It would have dropped him as a bane And left him as a food for shark. Our song would lengthen through the night And pleasantly the hours would fly If all their virtues we recite,- So great a task we will not try. But drink to the men who love the angle. As fine a lot as we can boast. Who never fight and never wrangle, A worthy set for any toast. 108 A VOICE OF THE HILLS STAR OF PEACE OH Peace, thou intermittant star, Whose rays are lost in depth of space, Too weak to break the clouds of war That shroud the human race. Thy orbit hath so wide a sweep That oft to men thou art a stranger, And brief the vigils that you keep As when you lit the manger. 'Tis strange that Mars should shine supreme And fill the sky with baneful light, When men have prayed to see you gleam, The symbol of the right. But earth its purpose shall fulfill And fly a planet of the sun. While God is working out his will That ail shall be as one. 109 A VOICE OF THE HILLS DARTMOUTH WHEN to the north our Eleazar trod, He bore a torch into the wilderness, And built a school and temple to his God, That he might spread enlightened right- eousness. And through the centuries his torch will burn And, though the forest darkness now is gone, Still to the light he bore, mankind will turn And bless the spot on which its rays have shone. Our college was no marvel at its birth. No pompous functions laid its corner stone. Few knew the distant section of the earth. Where Eleazar chose to toil alone. But there was greatness in the humble deed. And in the plan, the wisdom of the sage; Of ceremonials there was no need. Nor gaudy trappings of a bannered stage. How oft a bounteous stream of blessing runs From out some hidden distant mountain source! As true and constant as the process of the suns. It flows through many windings with a quiet force. no A VOICE OF THE HILLS The founder of old Dartmouth may have thought The savage scenes he saw would long remain, But time and custom have their changes brought And gathered stores of profit and of gain. The old humanities were first supreme, A course of Gospel, Latin and of Greek Held fast the world's approval and esteem, - The one desired goal that all must seek. A change has come and now no more we wonder To see the learned trace the simian line. Explore the heavens above and oceans under Or baser metals for our use refine. But after all, some doubt if we have gained By casting by the classic course of old, They know how well the master minds were trained. That did the mysteries of life unfold. What odds! As well debate the style of gown That is the product of a tailor's art. By either way you make a man or clown. As each shall try or fail to do his part. We know the foibles that the founder had, How trivial as we weigh them with the good! His narrow creed to modern thought is bad, But still eternal truths he understood. Ill A VOICE OF THE HILLS With scanty means he had to work and plan And none can say he did not do his best; Amid adversity, he proved himself a man. And green the laurels on his brow will rest. The foibles that he had have passed away. So few we look on them with eyes discerning And only see with love and pride today, A noble edifice of Christian learning. As years increase and generations pass, The college, once unknown to current fame, Will often see its usefulness surpass Establishments that had the world's acclaim. An altar of the heart to Dartmouth men. Our college stands among the northern hills. What charter made to broaden human ken Was better drawn, or truer mission fills? Then cheer old Dartmouth with a hearty will. No strain of sadness mingled with your joy, And as the years your measured life shall fill. Remember that you are a Dartmouth boy. 112 A VOICE OF THE HILLS THE TEN PIN CLUB OF CHELSEA TEN ladies journeyed o'er the hills To see the sights of Barre, And what they did my story fills And made their hushands merry. These ladies bought ten silver pins; The husbands up and spoke: **Just one of woman's petty sins, The women are a joke." The ladies soon had laid a plan To bring the men to shame; They formed a club as ladies can With ten pins in its name. The Club is now a village glory, Increasing year by year; Its record is a pleasant story That Chelseaites hold dear. The men are sorry for their jest; The pins have pricked them sore. The ladies laugh the last and best And purchase ten pins more. 113 A VOICE OF THE HILLS THE TREE THOUGH leaves may fall, the tree is sound, Its heart no frost nor rust can harm; With roots spread in the genial ground It smiles in sun and laughs in storm. 114 A VOICE OF THE HILLS NEIGHBORS THE hands may clasp across the sea And that be counted much, But neighbor's hands should warmer be For closer is the touch. FORGET IT IF your name is Smith or Jones You should rest your weary bones, And forget the name you bear That has filled your life with care. 115 A VOICE OF THE HILLS BOSTON FAIR Boston was the Pilgrim's pride, Their city by the stately tide; Far famed her ships have sailed the seas Far flung her flag has kissed the breeze. As well, if not the best of all Her sons have answered Duty's call, Their deeds have won her world renown, Athena gave her Athen's crown. She is the country's eastern gate At which the ships and navies wait; Throned in the righteousness of laws And true to every human cause. 116 A VOICE OF THE HILLS THE NEW INN THEY have builded us an inn, They have builded us a house 'Mid the hammer's noise and din For the public good and use. If inclined to joy and mirth You may gather round its hearth In the season's heat or cold While the merry tales are told, And the music fills the night With its pleasures and delight. You may smoke the sweetest brand That is found in all the land, And the clouds that upward curl Will your joys and hopes unfurl, And the castles of old Spain Will their turrets lift again In the shadows of the sky Where the golden sunsets die. It is cozy, it is grand, All the comforts at command. 'Tis the latest and the best Of the lodgings east or west. Why then farther should you roam For a welcome and a home? 117 A VOICE OF THE HILLS THE MUCK RAKE WE are told that the Fathers were wise and were good, That they seldom were found in the wrong; For the truth and the Gospel they manfully stood, And their glory should burden our song. It is not that we wish to condemn what is old That we point to the seam in the past, But to show there were metals aside from the gold In the figures the ages have cast. For the rake of today that is used in the muck For the purpose of passion and hate Is a tool that the Fathers employed for luck In the strifes of the town and the state. And the name, the most lustrous of all on the page. Was besmirched with the mud of his day; Not a service of glory could baffle the rage Of the imps that infested his way. 118 A VOICE OF THE HILLS THE WRECK OF THE REPUBLIC ^T^WAS off Nantucket's shoal bound coast, -■• When winter's blast was sweeping fast And mighty waves that demons tossed Shook every ship from keel to mast. The swirl and swish of waters black, Whose flying foam, like wings of doom, Shot upward from the Storm King's track, Were terrors of the angry gloom. In shrouding mist and darkness dun. The piercing prow with crushing blow. As swift as shot of mighty gun. Deals death to friend as to a foe. The walls of steel are broken glass. The ocean's pride no more shall ride The storm and gale; its shapeless mass. The "dark unfathomed caves" shall hide. The captain and his mate alone Do guard the wreck — a fading speck,- While fiendish Furies claim their own And laugh and dance upon the deck. 119 A VOICE OF THE HILLS The pistol shots and lights of blue, The Captain gave across the wave, Shall shine and echo ages through, Immortal signals of the brave. O shame! How feeble is the pen That would portray the noble way Which mate and captain showed to men That hero souls are born today. Oh! heroes are the salt that saves, - The chosen few that life renew. For man a higher level craves From knowing what his kind can do. FINIS If I have won a friend By what is written here, I have achieved the end The poet holds most dear. 120