o$ A v\. _- - ^ i S 'W V W •*> / 00 ,0 V . * .i V <►, */' ,o -0 \ V "% V* ^ LIB. W \ ,0°, V \ v •^ v x >'; - "% v s ^ ^ ^ <, < * i V P A ' ty w \ V 0>~ \^ HIDE AND SEEK CHRISTOPHER MORLEY Books By CHRISTOPHER MORLEY HIDE AND SEEK THE ROCKING HORSE SONGS FOR A LITTLE HOUSE MINCE PIE PARNASSUS ON WHEELS SHANDYGAFF THE HAUNTED BOOKSHOP HIDE and SEEK BY CHRISTOPHER MORLEY " There be some whose pleasure is to seek Truth; others whose merriment is to hide her or trick her out in freakish guise. Of both sorts much may be said; yet meseems that a man may well speak plain sooth at times" — JOHN MISTLETOE. NEW XBJT YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 4* 4& -$> COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA OCT 20 1920 ©CI.A601084 TO H. F. M. A SONNET IN SUNLIGHT rw iHIS IS a day for sonnets: Oh how clear -* Our splendid cliffs and summits lift the gaze— If all the perfect moments of the year Were poured and gathered in one sudden blaze, Then, then perhaps, in some endowered phrase My fiat, strewn words would rise and come more near To tell of you. Your beauty and your praise Would fall like sunlight on this paper here. Then I would build a sonnet that would stand Proud and perennial on this pale bright sky; So tall, so steep, that it might stay the hand Of Time, the dusty wrecker. He would sigh To tear my strong words down. And he would say: " That song he built for her, one summer day," These verses were first published by The New York Evening Post, The Philadelphia Evening Public Ledger, Life, Collier's, and House and Garden. The author gratefully acknowledges their permission to reprint. Roslyn, Long Island, July, 1920 CONTENTS PART ONE: VERSES PAGE Taking Title 15 To an Old-Fashioned Poet 17 Burning Leaves in Spring 18 The Savage 19 St. Paul's and Woolworth 21 Advice to a City 22 To Louise 23 The Music Box 25 A Wedded Valentine 27 Meditation on Some Bookshelves 28 Rapid Transit 31 The Victorian Poet in His Rondotage 32 Caught in the Undertow 33 Sunday Night 34 To His Brown-Eyed Mistress 36 Peace 37 Mounted Police 39 Song, In Deprecation of Pulchritude 40 On a White Muslin Dress 41 A Valentine 42 In Re Alfred Emery Cathie 43 Daffodils . . . . 44 IX CONTENTS PAGE To His Mistress, Deploring That He Is Not an Eliza- bethan Galaxy 45 The Intruder 47 Confessions in a Hash House 48 Tit for Tat 50 The Twins 51 Nursery Rhymes for the Tender Hearted 52 The Superman 5$ To a Telephone Operator 57 My Own Spring Song 58 The Urban Poet 59 Musings on a Cool Retreat 61 PART TWO: SONNETS Quickening 65 At a Window Sill 66 The River of Light 67 In an Auction Room 69 Epitaph for a Poet Who Wrote No Poetry 70 To a Vaudeville Terrier 71 To a Burlesque Soubrette 72 Sonnets of a Geometer 73 Sonnets in Time of Trial 74 To an Old Friend 76 Thoughts While Packing a Trunk 77 The Two-man Saw 78 A Sonnet on Oysters 79 In Philadelphia 80 — x — CONTENTS PAGE To My Wife 82 Hostages 83 PART THREE: TRANSLATIONS FROM THE CHINESE Translator's Note 87 No Sho 89 Pu'r Fish 101 Po Lil Chile 104 Sai Wen 106 Chtj Pep-Sin 110 OB'ot 117 XI- PART ONE: VERSES HIDE AND SEEK TAKING TITLE TO make this house my very own Could not be done by law alone. Though covenant and deed convey Absolute fee, as lawyers say, There are domestic rites beside By which this house is sanctified. By kindled fire upon the hearth, By planted pansies in the garth, By food, and by the quiet rest Of those brown eyes that I love best, And by a friend's bright gift of wine, I dedicate this house of mine. When all but I are soft abed I trail about my quiet stead A wreath of blue tobacco smoke (A charm that evil never broke) —15— HIDE AND SEEK TAKING TITLE— (continued) And bring my ritual to an end By giving shelter to a friend. These done, O dwelling, you become Not just a house, but truly Home ! 16— HIDE AND SEEK TO AN OLD-FASHIONED POET (Lizette Woodworth Reese.) MOST tender poet, when the gods confer They save your gracile songs a nook apart. And bless with Time's untainted lavender The ageless April of your singing heart. You, in an age unbridled, ne'er declined The appointed patience that the Muse decrees, Until, deep in the flower of the mind The hovering words alight, like bridegroom bees. By casual praise or casual blame unstirred The placid gods grant gifts where they belong: To you, who understand, the perfect word, The recompensed necessities of song. —17— HIDE AND SEEK BURNING LEAVES IN SPRING WHEN withered leaves are lost in flame Their eddying ghosts, a thin blue haze, Blow through the thickets whence they came On amberlucent autumn days. The cool green woodland heart receives Their dim, dissolving, phantom breath ; In young hereditary leaves They see their happy life-in-death. My minutes perish as they glow — Time burns my crazy bonfire through; But ghosts of blackened hours still blow, Eternal Beauty, back to you! —18— HIDE AND SEEK THE SAVAGE CIVILIZATION causes me Alternate fits : disgust and glee, Buried in piles of glass and stone My private spirit moves alone, Where every day from eight to six I keep alive by hasty tricks. But I am simple in my soul; My mind is sullen to control. At dusk I smell the scent of earth, And I am dumb — too glad for mirth. I know the savors night can give, And then, and then, I live, I live I No man is wholly pure and free, For that is not his destiny, —19— HIDE AND SEEK THE SAVAGE— (continued) But though I bend, I will not break : And still be savage, for Truth's sake. God damns the easily convinced (Like Pilate, when his hands he rinsed) —20— HIDE AND SEEK ST. PAUL'S AND WOOLWORTH I STOOD on the pavement Where I could admire Behind the brown chapel The cream and gold spire. Above, gilded Lightning Swam high on his ball — I saw the noon shadow The church of St. Paul. And was there a meaning? (My fancy would run), Saint Paul in the shadow, Saint Frank in the sun ! 21— HIDE AND SEEK ADVICE TO A CITY OCITY, cage your poets ! Hem them in And roof them over from the April sky — Clatter them round with babble, ceaseless din, And drown their voices with your thunder cry. Forbid their free feet on the windy hills, And harness them to daily ruts of stone — (In florists' windows lock the daffodils) And never, never let them be alone ! For they are curst, said poets, curst and lewd, And freedom gives their tongues uncanny wit, And granted silence, thought and solitude They (absit omen!) might make Song of it. So cage them in, and stand about them thick, And keep them busy with their daily bread ; And should their eyes seem strange, ah, then be quick To interrupt them ere the word be said. . . . For, if their hearts burn with sufficient rage, With wasted sunsets and frustrated youth, Some day they'll cry, on some disturbing page, The savage, sweet, unpalatable truth ! —22— HIDE AND SEEK TO LOUISE (A Christmas Baby, Now One Year Old.) UNDAUNTED by a world of grief, You came upon perplexing days, And cynics doubt their disbelief To see the sky-stains in your gaze. Your sudden and inclusive smile And your emphatic tears, admit That you must find this life worth while, So eagerly you clutch at it ! Your face of triumph says, brave mite, That life is full of love and luck — Of blankets to kick off at night, And two soft rose-pink thumbs to suck. O loveliest of pioneers Upon this trail of long surprise, May all the stages of the years Show such enchantment in your eyes ! —23— HIDE AND SEEK TO LOUISE— (continued) By parents' patient buttonings, And endless safety pins, you'll grow To ribbons, garters, hooks and things, Up to the Ultimate Trousseau — But never, in your dainty prime, Will you be more adored by me Than when you see, this Great First Time, Lit candles on a Christmas Tree ! December, 1919. 24— HIDE AND SEEK THE MUSIC BOX AT SIX — long ere the wintry dawn — There sounded through the silent hall To where I lay, with blankets drawn Above my ears, a plaintive call. The Urchin, in the eagerness Of three years old, could not refrain ; Awake, he straightway yearned to dress And frolic with his clockwork train. I heard him with a sullen shock. His sister, by her usual plan, Had piped us aft at 8 o'clock — I vowed to quench the little man. I leaned above him, somewhat stern, And spoke, I fear, with emphasis — Ah, how much better, parents learn, To seal one's censure with a kiss ! Again the house was dark and still, Again I lay in slumber's snare, When down the hall I heard a trill, A tiny, tinkling, tuneful air — —25— HIDE AND SEEK THE MUSIC BOX— (continued) His music-box! His best-loved toy ? His crib companion every night; And now he turned to it for joy While waiting for the lagging light. How clear, and how absurdly sad Those tingling pricks of sound unrolled ; They chirped and quavered, as the lad His lonely little heart consoled. Columbia, the Ocean's Gem — (Its only tune) shrilled sweet and faint. He cranked the chimes, admiring them In vigil gay, without complaint. The treble music piped and stirred, The leaping air that was his bliss ; And, as I most contritely heard, I thanked the all-unconscious Swiss! The needled jets of melody Rang slowlier and died away — The Urchin slept ; and it was I Who lay and waited for the day. -26— HIDE AND SEEK A WEDDED VALENTINE DEAR, may I be your Valentine? Not just to-day, in weather fine; Not just to-day, in lover's mood, But through life's each vicissitude. Not just when girlish eyes still shine, Dear, may I be your Valentine, But through all mortal whims and fits While Time our human fibres knits. And though, most sweet, my peevish earth Is hardly such promotion worth, Dear, may I be your Valentine And learn to make your virtue mine? Recalling by love's old refrain Our double joy, divided pain, I write this pleading, smiling line — Dear, may I be your Valentine? —n— HIDE AND SEEK MEDITATION ON SOME BOOKSHELVES SHORTLY TO BE BUILT Assiduus sis m bibliotheca, quae tibi Paradisi loco est. — Erasmus to Bishop Fisher. FRIEND carpenter, in re those shelves of mine, It matters little of what wood you build them: Seek out no oak or walnut; common pine, Or cypress, will look well when I have filled them. No doors of glass, or scroll-work done for looks ; No cornices, no carving, and no beading — The ornaments of bookshelves are the books, And mine are not for show, but all for reading. The topmost shelf eight inches, if you please, To hold my dumpy twelves and my 16mos ; The others measured taller by degrees For bigger books — like Adams and his keen mots. And now, while all my volumes are still boxed And stand about in dreary packing cases, I'll think about their pages — clean or foxed — And plan just how I'll put them in their places. —28— HIDE AND SEEK MEDITATION ON BOOKSHELVES— (continued) My "Everymans" — six feet of varied hue — Chatto and Windus' pocket R. L. S.'s — The India-paper Boswell, fat and blue, A noble bit of work from Oxford's presses. The small red Shakespeares — Robby Burns's tunes — My Bunyan, my "Urn Burial," my Borrow — The bright green Lamb (thin paper) made by Newnes — (I wish those shelves could be done by to-morrow !) The tiny Omar from Southampton Row Tersely inscribed with two sets of initials, Which same (the first I gave Her, long ago) Brought us at last to City Hall officials. The Houghton-Mifflin Keats means much to me (Bought from John Wanamaker, when a strip- ling), And Thomas Mosher's grand facsimile Of "Leaves of Grass" (the First) — and here's my Kipling ! "Vergiiii Maronis Opera" Imprinted 1873 at Leipsic; My Goldsmith, stained with tea at Thompson's Spa ; My Apperson on Smoking, when I'm pipe-sick. —29— HIDE AND SEEK MEDITATION ON BOOKSHELVES— (continued) My "Bibelots," "World's Classics," and my "Bohns" ; (I'd like to see those books again this minute!) My Poe, in Baltimore (at Hochschild Kohn's) I got for 19 cents — the mark is in it. And does my Conrad go up here? He does. And my McFee, whose writing is a strong man's. And old Burnand, put out by Roberts Bros., And De la Mare, with the imprint of Longmans. I must not start upon this theme again ; I will compose my longings unto slumber; For Harry Smith says he can't tell just when He'll get that much desiderated lumber. But when brave Harry comes with wood and paints, And in their nest my bairns are safely brooded, I'll number o'er my literary saints, And his good name will surely be included! —30— HIDE AND SEEK RAPID TRANSIT (To Stephen Vincent Benet.) CLIMBING is easy and swift on Parnassus ! Knocking my pipe out, I entered a bookshop; There found a book of verse by a young poet. Comrades at once, how I saw his mind glowing! Saw in his soul its magnificent rioting — Then I ran with him on hills that were windy, Basked and laughed with him on sun-dazzled beaches, Glutted myself on his green and blue twilights, Watched him disposing his planets in patterns, Tumbling his colors and toys all before him. I questioned life with him, his pulses my pulses ; Doubted his doubts, too, and grieved for his an- guishes, Salted long kinship and knew him from boyhood — Pulled out my own sun and stars from my knapsack, Trying my trinkets with those of his finding — And as I left the bookshop My pipe was still warm m my Jumd. —81— HIDE AND SEEK THE VICTORIAN POET IN HIS RONDOTAGE 1AM too old to be ensnared By formless verse. For I first aired My boyish lyre in Dobson's rule, And taught myself in that strict school To have my stanzas filed and pared. How hopelessly for rhymes I stared ! But chipped and polished till I bared The finer grain. Discard my tool? I am too old. I vote for verses craftsman-cared — Landor'd, Djobson'd, De la Mare'd; For 1 rhyme is still the quiet pool Where Beauty is reflected. You'll Agree (as many have declared) I am too old. —32— HIDE AND SEEK CAUGHT IN THE UNDERTOW COLIN, worshipping some frail, By self-deprecation sways her Calls himself unworthy male, Hardly even fit to praise her. But this tactic insincere In the upshot greatly grieves him When he finds the lovely dear Quite implicitly believes him. —83— HIDE AND SEEK SUNDAY NIGHT TWO grave brown eyes, severely bent Upon a memorandum book — A sparkling face, on which are blent A hopeful and a pensive look ; A pencil, purse, and book of checks With stubs for varying amounts — Elaine, the shrewdest of her sex, Is busy balancing accounts! Sedately, in the big armchair, She, all engrossed, the audit scans — Her pencil hovers here and there The while she calculates and plans ; What's this? A faintly pensive frown Upon her forehead gathers now — Ah, does the butcher — -heartless clown — Beget that shadow on her brow? A murrain on the tradesman churl Who caused this fair accountant's gloom! Just then — a baby's cry — my girl Arose and swiftly left the room. 84— HIDE AND SEEK SUNDAY NIGHT— (continued) Then in her purse by stratagem I thrust some bills of small amounts- She'll think she had forgotten them, And smile again at her accounts! —35— HIDE AND SEEK TO HIS BROWN-EYED MISTRESS Who Rallied Him for Praising Blue Eyes in His Verses JF SOMETIMES, in a random phrase (For variation in my ditty), I chance blue eyes, or gray, to praise And seem to intimate them pretty — It is because I do not dare With too unmixed reiteration To sing the browner eyes and hair That are my true intoxication. Know, then, that I consider brown For ladies' eyes, the only color; And deem all other orbs in town (Compared to yours )„ opaquer, duller. I pray, perpend, my dearest dear ; While blue-eyed maids the praise were drinking, How insubstantial was their cheer — It was of yours that I was thinking ! — 36— HIDE AND SEEK PEACE WHAT is this Peace That statesmen sign? How I have sought To make it mine. Where groaning cities Clang and glow I hunted, hunted, Peace to know. And still I saw Where I passed by Discarded hearts, — Heard children cry. By willowed waters Brimmed with rain I thought to capture Peace again. I sat me down My Peace to hoard, But Beauty pricked me With a sword. —37— HIDE AND SEEK PEACE— (continued) For in the stillness Something stirred, And I was crippled For a word. There is no peace A man can find; The anguish sits His heart behind. The eyes he loves, The perfect breast, Too exquisite To give him rest. This is his curse Since brain began. His penalty For being man. —38— HIDE AND SEEK MOUNTED POLICE WATCHFUL, grave, he sits astride his horse, Draped with his rubber poncho, in the rain ; He speaks the pungent lingo of "The Force," And those who try to bluff him, try in vain. Inured to every mood of fool and crank, Shrewdly and sternly all the crowd he cons: fThe rain drips down his horse's shining flank, A figure nobly fit for sculptor's bronze. O knight commander of our city stress, Little you know how picturesque you are! We hear you cry to drivers who transgress: "Say, that's a helva place to park your car!" •39— HIDE AND SEEK SONG, IN DEPRECATION OF PULCHRITUDE BEAUTY (so the poets say), Thou art joy and solace great; Long ago, and far away Thou art safe to contemplate, Beauty. But when now and here, Visible and close to touch, All too perilously near, Thou tormentest us too much! In a picture, in a song, In a novel's conjured scenes, Beauty, that's where you belong, Where perspective intervenes. But, my dear, in rosy fact Your appeal I have to shirk — You disturb me, and distract My attention from my work ! —40— HIDE AND SEEK ON A WHITE MUSLIN DRESS IN A MODISTE'S WINDOW DEMURE whfte frock which I espy. What slender damsel will buy This miracle of dainty dress And grace it with her loveliness, The bliss of every doting eye? Upon a dummy figure lie These tender folds, and seem to sigh Some softer bosom to possess, Dfemure white frock ! I can't resist. The price is high, But my cigars I will deny; I'll get the thing for you, dear Bess, And when you wear it, I'll confess How utterly entrancing I Deem your white frock! HIDE AND SEEK A VALENTINE TO HER whose glamor moves and stirs And bids me try to do her honor, Whose peerless beauty made me hers The first time I laid eyes upon her — Whose profile thrilled my boyish dream And made a shrine for youthful passion, Whose magic is the chosen theme Her lovers praise, each in his fashion — Who turns her ever-changing face To fit the moods that men bring to her. And in her heart can find a place For all who venturously woo her — - To her who, beautiful and great, Deserves a more pretentious ditty — To her, in love, I dedicate This Valentine — to New York City! — m~ HIDE AND SEEK IN RE ALFRED EMERY CATHIE (To All Butlerians, but especially Moreby Acklom) IN 1887, Alfred Cathie Became the private clerk of Samuel Butler; And Butler made a wise choice, for (i'faith!) he Could ne'er have found a f aithfuller or subtler. For Butler, lord of satire and of whim, Was not (we guess) the kind of man whom all Would understand; but Alfred worshipped him, And smiled at his O God! O Montreal! O Cathie, liv'st thou still? Or art thou gone The Way of All Flesh to The Haven Fair? If so, we know that in some Erewhon Thou find'st thy waggish master waiting there- (For he who every mortal foible mocks Would ask not Paradise, but Paradox.) Cathie, the author of that deathless Toot: "Yes, there's tobacco in it — you may go !" * x See "The Notebooks of Samuel Butler," New Edition, p. 251. HIDE AND SEEK DAFFODILS IF daffodils were merely yellow flowers, It would not hurt my heart to see them grow — But ah, they speak to me of April hours And gardened mornings now so long ago. For daffodils are memory and token Of vanished days too tender to be sung, Before a single happy dream was broken In my love's gentle heart when she was youngs 44- HIDE AND SEEK TO HIS MISTRESS, DEPLORING THAT HE IS NOT AN ELIZABETHAN GALAXY WHY did not Fate to me bequeath an Utterance Elizabethan? It would have been delight to me If natus ante 1603. My stuff would not be soon forgotten If I could write like Harry Wotton. I wish that I could wield the pen Like William Drummond of Hawthornden. I would not fear the ticking clock If I were Browne of Tavistock. For blithe conceits I would not worry If I were Raleigh, or the Earl of Surrey. I wish (I hope I am not silly?) That I could juggle words like Lyly. I envy many a lyric champion, I. e., viz., e. g., Thomas Campion. —45— HIDE AND SEEK TO HIS MISTRESS— (continued) I creak my rhymes up like a derrick, I ne'er will be a Robin Herrick. My wits are dull as an old Barlow — I wish that I were Christopher Marlowe. In short, I'd like to be Philip Sidney, Or some one else of that same kidney. For if I were, my lady's looks And all my lyric special pleading Would be in all the future books, And called, at college, Required Readmg* HIDE AND SEEK THE INTRUDER AS I sat, to sift my dreaming To the meet and needed word, Came a merry Interruption With insistence to be heard. Smiling stood a maid beside me, Half alluring and half shy; Soft the white hint of her bosom- Escapade was in her eye. "I must not be so invaded," (In an anger then I cried) — "Can't you see that I am busy? Tempting creature, stay outside! "Pearly rascal, I am writing: I am now composing verse — Fie on antic invitation : Wanton, vanish — fly — disperse ! "Baggage, in my godlike moment What have I to do with thee?" And she laughed as she departed — "I am Poetry," said she, —47- HIDE AND SEEK ' CONFESSIONS IN A HASH-HOUSE I'M THROUGH! Seven years I've worked at this hash coun- ter, Stooping down five hundred times a day To shout down the dumb-waiter to Pete (That Polack never pays any attention, I can't get a thing I ask for) And spilling a line of cheerful chatter To my customers. I should think men would get tired of kidding. Those guys that are so particular, Send back their scrambled eggs for another three minutes, Must have their tomatoes on a side dish And not on the meat, Gee, I'll bet when they're home They take what comes to them And shut up about it. And I'll bet that the fresh guys Who pull the jazz talk day after day Have mighty little to say at home. Men are a bunch of fakers: —48— HIDE AND SEEK CONFESSIONS IN A HASH-HOUSE— (continued) If I ever get one where I want him I'll make him behave. I'll bean him with a sad-iron. I'm tired of kidding the bunch. I'm tired of listening to their yap about what they like And what they don't like. Just for a change I'd like to see some one Come in here and order his lunch and eat it Without trying to be funny about it. If all this stooping wasn't so good for the figure (But, oh, my back, by six p. m. !) I'da quit long ago. Well, girls, I'm through. Next week I'm going to marry a fellow, And I don't mind telling you, I'm in luck. He works in a restrunt on Girard avenue, So he won't ever be home to meals. — 49— HIDE AND SEEK TIT FOR TAT 1 OFTEN pass a gracious tree Whose name I can't identify, But still I bow, in courtesy; It waves a bough, in kind reply. I do not know your name, O tree (Are you a hemlock or a pine?) But why should that embarrass me? Quite probably you don't know mine, —50— HIDE AND SEEK THE TWINS CON was a thorn to brother Pro- On Pro we often sicked him: Whatever Pro would claim to know Old Con would contradict him ! —51— HIDE AND SEEK NURSERY RHYMES FOR THE TENDER-HEARTED (Dedicated to Don Marquis.) SCUTTLE, scuttle, little roach- How you run when I approach : Up above the pantry shelf, Hastening to secrete yourself. Most adventurous of vermin, How I wish I could determine How you spend your hours of ease, Perhaps reclining on the cheese. Cook has gone, and all is dark — Then the kitchen is your park : In the garbage heap that she leaves Do you browse among the tea leaves? How delightful to suspect All the places you have trekked : Does your long antenna whisk its Gentle tip across the biscuits? 52— HIDE AND SEEK NURSERY RHYMES— (continued) Do you linger, little soul, Drowsing in our sugar bowl? Or, abandonment most utter, Shake a shimmy on the butter? Do you chant your simple tunes Swimming in the baby's prunes? Then, when dawn comes, do you slink Homeward to the kitchen sink? Timid roach, why be so shy? We are brothers, thou and I. In the midnight, like yourself, I explore the pantry shelf! —53— HIDE AND SEEK n ROCKABYE, insect, lie low in thy den, Father's a cockroach, mother's a hen. And Betty, the maid, doesn't clean up the sink. So you shall have plenty to eat and to drink. Hushabye, insect, behind the mince pies: If the cook sees you her anger will rise; She'll scatter poison, as bitter as gall, Death to poor cockroach, hen, baby and all. ni THERE was a gay henroach, and what do you think, She lived in a cranny behind the old sink — Eggshells and grease were the chief of her diet ; She went for a stroll when the kitchen was quiet. She walked in the pantry and sampled the bread, But when she came back her old husband was dead: Long had he lived, for his legs they were fast, But the kitchen maid caught him and squashed him at last. —54— HIDE AND SEEK IV I KNEW a black beetle, who lived down a drain, And friendly he was though his manners were plain ; When I took a bath he would come up the pipe, And together we'd wash and together we'd wipe. Though mother would sometimes protest with a sneer That my choice of a tub-mate was wanton and queer, A nicer companion I never have seen: He bathed every night, so he must have been clean. Whenever he heard the tap splash in the tub He'd dash up the drain-pipe and wait for a scrub, And often, so fond of ablution was he, I'd find him there floating and waiting for me. But nurse has done something that seems a great shame : She saw him there, waiting, prepared for a game : She turned on the hot and she scalded him sore And he'll never come bathing with me any more. —55 HIDE AND SEEK THE SUPERMAN THE man I give toast to And praise in this sonnet Has never played host to A bee in his bonnet. Remarkably moderate, Thoroughly sane, Indeed odd and odder it Seems to my brain So few are inclined to Give heed to his tone, But still have a mind to Fool views of their own. The wisdom of Sinai is his by the shelf . • • Of course you divine I — allude to Myself. 56— HIDE AND SEEK TO A TELEPHONE OPERATOR WHO HAS A BAD COLD HOW hoarse and husky in my ear Your usually cheerful chirrup: You have an awful cold, my dear — Try aspirin or bronchial syrup. When I put in a call to-day Compassion stirred my humane blood red To hear you faintly, sadly, say The number : Bwrray Hill dide hudred! I felt (I say) quick sympathy To hear you croak in the receiver — Will you be sorry too for me A month hence, when I have hay fever? 57— HIDE AND SEEK MY OWN SPRING SONG AND now 'tis spring, a lovely scene — O poplar trees, long, green, and slender Alas that all this tender green Is not a legal tender. -58— HIDE AND SEEK THE URBAN POET (Requested to supply a spring poem, while his wife, who understands these matters, is away from home.) \ 71 TH^^" ree ^ s ^he foetid symplocarp V V (Or cabbage, frankly known as skimk) And when the frogs, with pipe and harp, Begin to whistle and to plunk, I think of yellow marigolds (They must be yellow, by the name) And of the bloodroot that unfolds As bright (presumably?) as flame. Hepaticas, so frail and , And anemones That on this covered bank Are trembling in the gentle breeze. The saxifrage, clear in hue (Oh, is it yellow, red or pink?) The violet's undoubted blue, The Dutchman's Breeches (mauve, I think?) —59— HIDE AND SEEK THE URBAN POET— (continued) The lucid willow by the stream With catkins of soft fur ; The mountain laurel's gleam, All these are lovely, I aver. Dear burdock, blossom of my heart, Upon your petals glad I look ; (I do not know these things apart, And got their names out of a book.*) Oh, flowery friends of field and wood, What pleasure your existence gives. . . • And honestly, I wish I could Supply the proper adjectives! * "Familiar Features of the Roadside," by F. Schuyler Mathews. —60— HIDE AND SEEK MUSINGS ON A COOL RETREAT I KNOW a little hidden pool Where happy bathers oft repair; Secluded, clear and deep and cool, Men find right brave refreshment there, And swiftly doffing shirts and panties They revel blissful — rari nantes. Remote from scenes of toil and teen All heat and grievance they expunge ; Enjoying in that shimmering green The swift shock of a silver plunge, And crying "0 deorum quicquid We thank thee for this pool : some liquid !" Sharp glory of that dive, the first — And thrill (but how can it be told?) When bodies, slowly falling, burst Into the all-encircling cold, Then splash, or float among the ripple As passive as a participle. How far away, you will agree, Must lie that cool and placid grot — —61— HIDE AND SEEK MUSINGS ON A COOL RETREAT— (continued) Amid the Catskill greenery? Some distant Adirondack spot? Yet, if you ask where is the place meant — The Woolworth Building, in the basement ! — m— PART TWO: SONNETS SONNETS QUICKENING SUCH little, puny things are words in rhyme : Poor feeble loops and strokes as frail as hairs ; You see them printed here, and mark their chime, And turn to your more durable affairs. Yet on such petty tools the poet dares To run his race with mortar, bricks and lime, And draws his frail stick to the point, and stares To aim his arrow at the heart of Time. Intangible, yet pressing, hemming in, This measured emptiness engulfs us all, And yet he points his paper javelin And sees it eddy, waver, turn, and fall, And feels, between delight and trouble torn, The stirring of a sonnet still unborn. — £5— HIDE AND SEEK AT A WINDOW SILL r i 10 WRITE a sonnet needs a quiet wwnd. . . . JL I paused and pondered, tried again. To write. . . . Raising the sash, I breathed the winter night: Papers and small hot room were left behind. Against the gusty purple, ribbed and spined With golden slots and vertebrae of light Men's cages loomed. Down sliding from a height An elevator winked as it declined. Coward! There is no quiet in the brain — If pity burns it not, then beauty will: Tinder it is for every blowing spark. Uncertain whether this is bliss or pain The unresting mind will gaze across the sill From high apartment windows, in the dark. —66— SONNETS THE RIVER OF LIGHT I. Broadway, 103rd to 96th. LIGHTS foam and bubble down the gentle grade Bright shine chop sueys and rotisseries ; In pink translucence glowingly displayed See camisole and stocking and chemise. Delicatessen windows full of cheese — Above, the chimes of church-bells toll and fade — And then, from off some distant Palisade That gluey savor on the Jersey breeze ! The burning bulbs, in green and white and red, Spell out a Change of Program Sun., Wed., Fri. 9 A clicking taxi spins with ruby spark. There is , I .-& * . v \. s > * S / tf oo 1 Kp, .-y ^ V ^ N . «*> * ^' x ' 2, * 71/ SX x o %** y V