P s 
 
 3515 
 
 ■fts&ft 
 
Class r^ZSlS 
 Copyright N° ! 9< «■/ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 
 
Affinity 
 
 BY 
 
 MAURINE HATHAWAY 
 
 (THE POETESS OF THE PINES) 
 
 Author of 
 "Embers," "Passion Lyrics," etc. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 BARSE & HOPKINS 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
753^ 
 
 Copyright, 1914 
 
 BY 
 
 BARSE & HOPKINS 
 
 APR 23 1914 
 
 ©CI.A36980 6 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 An Apology 11 
 
 Affinity 13 
 
 Why? 16 
 
 The Day Dream 18 
 
 A Valentine 20 
 
 At the Play 22 
 
 If I Can Be with You 24 
 
 The Sun and the Sea 25 
 
 The Way of It 27 
 
 The Nun's Secret 28 
 
 If 'Tis Sinful to Love You . . . 33 
 
 Recalled ... 35 
 
 The Song of the Vampire .... 37 
 
 Thy Love Has All Fled .... 39 
 
 Forgetting Thee 40 
 
 The Two 42 
 
 I Wonder if You Ever Think of Me 43 
 
 Lucine 44 
 
 Who Counts the Cost 47 
 
 A Woman's Way 49 
 
 Warned 50 
 
 Bereft 51 
 
 Only a Week 53 
 
CONTENTS 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 To Ella Wheeler Wilcox .... 57 
 
 His Way . 58 
 
 The Hearse 60 
 
 Skulls 62 
 
 The True Revenge 64 
 
 The Dander Bugs .65 
 
 Cursed and Crowned 68 
 
 Amber 70 
 
 Optimism 72 
 
 Dawn 73 
 
 Would It Be the Same? 74 
 
 Gossip 76 
 
 The Old Homestead 77 
 
 Scotch Lullaby 79 
 
 Doc Putnam's Band 80 
 
 Two Pictures 84 
 
 After Clouds — Sunshine 85 
 
 Evening 86 
 
 Back to Earth .87 
 
 The Twa Cats 88 
 
AN APOLOGY 
 
 SOMETIMES my poem-loving 
 kJ soul, 
 
 (When in a sanguine mood), 
 
 On reading o'er the verse I write, 
 
 Says to my heart " 'Tis good." 
 
 " Here is a happy little thought 
 In rythmic form expressed, 
 Mayhap 'twill start vibrations 
 In some sympathetic breast. 
 
 Perhaps this one may comfort some 
 Poor sorrow-sickened soul, 
 
 Or that one aid ambitious ones 
 To gain some longed-for goal." 
 
 But ah, when I would worship 
 At my Queen of Poets' shrine, 
 
 And read her sweet creations 
 
 Couched in language half divine, 
 
 I glance back at my poor attempts 
 And oh, they seem so plain, 
 
 Expressed in lines intensely crude, 
 Imperfect and inane. 
 
 11 
 
AN APOLOGY 
 
 And then I make a vow that I 
 
 Will never write again, 
 What has this old world done to me 
 
 That I should cause it pain 
 
 And anguish by imposing 
 
 On its ears my humble song, 
 
 Til trouble it no longer, 
 But again ere very long 
 
 Some little thing, perhaps no more 
 ^han bird or bee will start 
 
 The passioned words a bubbling 
 From the spring inside my heart. 
 
 I can no more stop their -flowing 
 Than could stay, a falling star, 
 
 A voice within me whispers — 
 " write " 
 I write and here they are. 
 
 12 
 
AFFINITY 
 
 WHEN the thought of you 
 comes 
 
 In the broad light of day, 
 Then I say to my soul 
 
 " I must shut it away, 
 'Tis a weak selfish thought 
 
 And to think it is sin," 
 So I close fast the door 
 
 And it cannot come in. 
 But at night when the care 
 
 Of the day's work is done 
 And the ghosts of the past 
 
 Throng around one by one, 
 Then I loose every bond 
 
 And conventional chain, 
 And live over those lost 
 Golden hours again. 
 
 As a bee overburdened with sweets 
 
 Wings her flight, 
 Homing back to the hive 
 
 In her sated delight, 
 So my free soul, imprisoned 
 
 The weary day through, 
 Soars away on a long 
 
 Happy journey to you. 
 You are waiting for me 
 
 With your strong arms apart, 
 
 13 
 
AFFINITY 
 
 Once again you enfold me 
 
 And heart throbs to heart. 
 
 And you plead as of old 
 
 With a low panting moan, 
 
 As your fevered lips seek for 
 And cling to my own. 
 
 Your dear voice glads my ears 
 
 As our arms intertwine, 
 Your hot breath fans my cheek 
 
 And your flesh thrills to mine. 
 In the exquisite anguish 
 
 Once more I am hurled 
 On a sea of wild rapture 
 
 Away from the world. 
 
 Slowly rising and falling 
 
 On billows of bliss, 
 In the sweet soul-communion 
 
 Where naught is amiss 
 We drift on, till a maelstrom 
 
 Of madd'ning delight 
 Draws us into its vortex 
 
 And whirls us from sight. 
 
 As a calm settles over 
 
 The turbulent sea, 
 When the Storm-god has tired 
 
 Of his ecstatic glee, 
 
 H 
 
AFFINITY 
 
 So a languor steals o'er me 
 
 And clasped to your breast 
 
 I am lulled to contentment 
 And rapturous rest. 
 
 Oh I would not return 
 
 But forever dream on, 
 For I waken to duty 
 
 And pain with the dawn, 
 And my dream is a sin, 
 
 But I'm longing for you — 
 Love, come back through the darkness 
 
 And make it come true! 
 
 15 
 
WHY? 
 
 WHY didst Thou take him, Lord? 
 He was not old 
 But flushed with youth did so enjoy his 
 
 life, 
 Were there not aged ones who long to fold 
 Their weary hands away from earth and 
 
 strife? 
 Whose tasks are over and whose eyes are 
 
 dim, 
 Why didst thou not call these instead of 
 
 him? 
 
 Why didst Thou take him, Lord? He 
 was not tired 
 
 But filled with hope he dreamed of valiant 
 deeds, 
 
 Were there not those whose hearts have 
 long desired 
 
 To rest them from the toil for simple 
 needs, 
 
 Who fain would sleep among the silent 
 dead; 
 
 Why didst Thou not take one of these in- 
 stead? 
 
 Why didst Thou take him, Lord? He 
 
 was not weak, 
 But strong to carry on Thy needed work, 
 
 16 
 
WHY? 
 
 Are there not many in Thy world who 
 
 seek 
 For ways whereby the slightest task to 
 
 shirk? 
 Whose worthless bodies are but in the way, 
 Why didst Thou not call these, and let 
 
 him stay? 
 
 Why didst Thou take him, Lord? He 
 
 was so kind 
 And thoughtful of all things and brave 
 
 and pure, 
 Among the sinful millions Thou couldst 
 
 find 
 Someone less worthy living I am sure. 
 His leaving caused my heart such bitter 
 
 pain, 
 
 Lord, why didst Thou not let him re- 
 
 main? 
 
 But ah, I must not question Thy behest, 
 My loss so great has made me mad with 
 grief, 
 
 1 know Thou doeth all things for the best, 
 Though from this pain, I fain would find 
 
 relief. 
 I bow beneath the rod, Thou Holy One, 
 Forgive me, Lord, Thy will, not mine, be 
 
 done. 
 
 l 7 
 
THE DAY DREAM 
 
 1AM dreaming, only dreaming, 
 (Though 'tis noon- time of the 
 day) 
 And I see the sunlight gleaming 
 
 On the blue hills far away, 
 And the meadows all are teaming 
 With the larks' and robins' lay. 
 
 Oh, the poplar leaves are rustling 
 In the clover scented breeze, 
 
 And the air is all a-bustling 
 
 With the whir of birds and bees, 
 
 There's a rose-clad cottage nestling 
 Deep among the whisp'ring trees. 
 
 There's a happy mother flitting 
 Here and there before the door, 
 
 There's a snowy table fitting 
 For a king to sit before, 
 
 There's a blue-eyed baby sitting 
 On the shining kitchen floor. 
 
 There's a tall young husband nearing, 
 (Oh, let nothing break the spell), 
 
 His young face is bright and cheering 
 (He has heard the dinner bell) 
 
 Now with fond words he's endearing 
 That sweet wife he loves so well. 
 
 18 
 
THE DAY DREAM 
 
 Now for baby he is making 
 Pretty garlands of the vines, 
 
 See him smile, such pains he's taking 
 And his dear face, how it shines, 
 
 (Oh, my heart is aching, aching, 
 How it hungers, how it pines). 
 
 I must wake, why am I crying, 
 
 There are diamonds on my throat, 
 
 There's my palace and low lying 
 Is my costly motor boat, 
 
 There's my aged husband sighing, 
 See him stare at me and gloat. 
 
 Nothing in the future daunts me, 
 I have all I wish, and more, 
 
 But the past it taunts, it taunts me, 
 (That bright past I've given o'er) 
 
 And that picture how it haunts me, 
 How it haunts me ever more. 
 
 19 
 
A VALENTINE 
 
 9^1 ^IS many years, dear friend of 
 
 A mine, 
 
 Since young love cast his spell 
 Upon you, and a valentine 
 
 You sent your love to tell. 
 
 Do you forget the filmy lace, 
 The dainty flow' rets sweet, 
 
 And tiny Cupid's airy grace 
 
 Which made it quite complete? 
 
 What more was needed to convey 
 
 The story never old, 
 That love like yours that happy day, 
 
 With time could ne'er grow cold. 
 
 Now as I lift the tattered lid 
 
 And sadly in I peer, 
 Into a flower's faded heart 
 
 There falls a shining tear. 
 
 A subtle odor floats from out 
 
 The box so old and gray, 
 And for a time I almost doubt 
 
 That years have passed away, 
 
 20 
 
A VALENTINE 
 
 Since that fond token came to me, 
 A message from your heart 
 
 Straight to my own, how soon, ah me, 
 Fate drifted us apart. 
 
 Then you were called to other lands, 
 New ties you formed and dear, 
 
 While I, left sorrowing alone, 
 Found consolation here. 
 
 The love we knew that was so sweet, 
 
 Is but a fragrant dream, 
 That comes sometimes when mem'ry 
 wakes 
 
 To fancy's golden gleam. 
 
 But still a thrill, I know not why, 
 Pervades like rare old wine, 
 
 Whene'er, 'mid relics of the past, 
 I find your valentine. 
 
 21 
 
AT THE PLAY 
 
 THERE'S a man who is watching the 
 play to-nigh t. 
 In his breast is a smold'ring rage, 
 For instead of the glamourous glare of 
 
 light 
 And the scene on the gilded stage, 
 He sees only a cheerless and dreary room 
 Where a fair girl waits in the lonely gloom, 
 Who looks with her haunting eyes at him, 
 Through their depths of pain and their 
 
 teardrops dim. 
 
 The one who is sitting beside him there 
 
 Has the wealth of a dozen kings, 
 
 There are diamonds rare on her throat and 
 
 hair, 
 And her hands are ablaze with rings. 
 While the poor little maid he has led 
 
 astray 
 Has only her luminous eyes of gray, 
 Her warm sweet lips and her trusting 
 
 heart 
 That he's won from her by his ruthless art. 
 
 He watches the play in an absent way 
 
 With a fixed and listless stare, 
 
 And he tries to forget but that scene will 
 
 stay 
 And he cannot efface it there, 
 22 
 
AT THE PLAY 
 
 For he knows she will weep till her lips 
 
 are dumb, 
 When she waits and waits and he does not 
 
 come, 
 And somehow or other he is not quite 
 Enjoying the play that is on tonight. 
 
 Oh, I sit here tonight in this place of mirth 
 And on every hand I see 
 These rulers and masterful lords of Earth, 
 In their might and immunity, 
 And I wonder if deep in each secret heart 
 Is a scene like this that he holds apart, 
 That somewhere now for his bestial flame, 
 There's a fair head bowed to the dust in 
 shame. 
 
 23 
 
IF I CAN BE WITH YOU 
 
 I CARE not for the social whirl 
 And splendor's gaudy hue, 
 I would far rather sit beneath 
 Some whisp'ring tree with you. 
 
 I'll take the barriers with our love, 
 
 And inconvenience, too, 
 And scorn all other suitors, dear, 
 
 If I can be with you. 
 
 What though grim custom frown on 
 me, 
 
 It cannot make me blue, 
 Nor censure yet cause me to fret 
 
 If I can be with you. 
 
 I'll pluck the flower though it grow 
 
 Outside the narrow path, 
 I'll drink its fragrance, sip its dew, 
 
 E'en though the aftermath 
 
 Be tares and thorns, for this I know 
 My love, dear, is so true, 
 
 That Hell itself were sweet to me 
 If I were there with you. 
 
 2 4 
 
THE SUN AND THE SEA 
 
 THE Sun looked down from his lofty 
 height, 
 As he rose o'er the eastern hill, 
 And beheld the Sea in her wond'rous 
 might, 
 And the Earth lying calm and still, 
 
 And he said to himself, "Ah, the Earth is 
 fair, 
 
 And worthy and sweet, I hold, 
 But tranquil and silent and though so rare, 
 
 For me she is far too cold. 
 
 "But there is the Sea with her throbbing 
 strife, 
 
 Her passionate surge and roll, 
 It is she I will take to my heart to wife 
 
 For she is the mate of my soul !" 
 
 So he wed with the Sea at the dawn of day, 
 
 In the opaline month of June, 
 The mountains tall were the bridesmaids 
 
 And the winds played the wedding tune. 
 
 25 
 
THE SUN AND THE SEA 
 
 Then the Sea so thrilled by the bold Sun's 
 charms 
 
 And stirred to her waves' white tips, 
 Reached up to her lover her vap'rous arms 
 
 And bared her full breast to his lips. 
 
 And the fleecy clouds in their playground 
 high, 
 
 Afar in the blue above, 
 That gambol and race cross the azure sky 
 
 Are babes that were born of their love. 
 
 26 
 
THE WAY OF IT 
 
 TWO meet, they court awhile, they 
 wed, 
 They live a bitter, stormy life, 
 A world with nod-approving head, 
 Looks on and calls them — man and 
 wife. 
 
 Two meet, they woo, they mate at last, 
 Their love unfettered does not die, 
 
 A gaping world looks on aghast 
 But wedding bells ring out on high. 
 
 27 
 
THE NUN'S SECRET 
 
 THE Sister of Mercy 
 With swift, noiseless tread 
 Was hovering about 
 
 Near the sufferer's bed. 
 Now counting his pulse beat, 
 Now smoothing his hair, 
 Now turning, some life-giving 
 Drug to prepare. 
 
 Though all futile it seemed, 
 
 For the flickering light 
 Of the life that remained 
 
 Seemed too eager for flight. 
 As they'd carried him in 
 
 'Mid confusion she'd heard 
 "Awful accident — street," 
 
 But with never a word 
 
 She had quietly led them 
 
 To this snowy bed, 
 Where he still lay unconscious 
 
 And seemingly dead. 
 Something strangely familiar 
 
 There was in his face, 
 Though 'twas marred by the lines 
 
 Where the pain left its trace. 
 
 28 
 
THE NUN'S SECRET 
 
 And the touch of his hand 
 
 Lying languid and still, 
 Seemed to send o'er her being 
 
 A strange nameless thrill. 
 The brown hair as it waved 
 
 O'er the broad, noble brow, 
 Brought a vague recollection 
 
 To haunt her, somehow. 
 
 And the lines of his form 
 
 'Neath the coverlet's snow, 
 'Minded her of the love 
 
 She'd renounced long ago. 
 It had been a wild strife 
 
 'Tween Religion and Love, 
 But Religion had won 
 
 As her prayers went above. 
 
 She had learned that since 
 
 Putting him out of her life, 
 He had won fame and fortune, 
 
 A home and a wife. 
 Had a mansion, broad acres, 
 
 Abundance of gold, 
 And fair children had made life 
 
 A blessing untold. 
 
 Ah, he opened his eyes, 
 
 Gracious God ! 'Twas the truth, 
 'Twas the man she had worshiped 
 In far away youth. 
 29 
 
THE NUN'S SECRET 
 
 Then he closed them again 
 
 With a languorous smile, 
 
 And her heart seemed to burst 
 
 Through its prison the while. 
 
 Though she clutched for her beads 
 
 In an effort to pray, 
 For a moment the years 
 
 And the Church slipped away, 
 And a vision arose 
 
 To her tear-blinded eyes 
 Of the home she once dreamed of 
 
 In Love's Paradise. 
 
 And she pictured herself 
 
 Sitting happily there, 
 While his tall manly form 
 
 Towered back of her chair, 
 And a baby whose ringlets 
 
 Of gold she caressed, 
 Lay with rosy wet lips 
 
 'Gainst her warm yielding breast. 
 
 There was no one about, 
 
 She was solely alone 
 Save for him whom she loved. 
 
 With a low, sudden moan 
 
 30 
 
THE NUN'S SECRET 
 
 She leaned over him 
 
 Brushing the clustering hair, 
 Pressed her cheek against his, 
 
 In her agony there, 
 
 Then her lips sought the spot 
 
 Where his cold hand had lain 
 And then pressed the closed eyelids 
 
 Again and again. 
 Hot and wild with their fondness 
 
 And panting apart 
 They clung to his throat 
 
 And the flesh o'er his heart, 
 
 Back again to his mouth 
 
 And his eyes and his hair, 
 Murm'ring fond tender words 
 
 Of impassioned despair. 
 Hark! a footstep, — 'twas only 
 
 The black-robed head-nurse, 
 Come to see if the patient 
 
 Were better or worse. 
 
 But the nun turned to hide 
 
 The wild light in her eyes, 
 
 And her disheveled robe 
 
 Brought no glance of surprise. 
 
 31 
 
THE NUN'S SECRET 
 
 As a faint amber glow 
 
 Gave the tidings of dawn, 
 
 His free soul took its flight 
 And went journeying on. 
 
 Came the beautiful wife 
 
 Broken-hearted and brave, 
 To convey her loved dead 
 
 To the church and the grave. 
 The sweet nun with set lips 
 
 Watched them bear him away. 
 Then stole silently down 
 
 To the chapel — to pray. 
 
 32 
 
IF 'TIS SINFUL TO LOVE YOU 
 
 IF 'tis sinful to love you then why do I 
 dream 
 And dream all the lonely day through, 
 And see in the dawn and the clouds and the 
 stream, 
 Only beautiful visions of you? 
 
 If 'tis sinful to love you, then why are 
 
 you dear, 
 
 And why does my fond heart rejoice 
 
 To see you and hear you and know you are 
 
 near, 
 
 And thrill at the sound of your voice? 
 
 If 'tis sinful to love you then why do I 
 sigh, 
 For you only when you are away, 
 And why am I lonely save when you are 
 nigh, 
 And why are you dearer each day? 
 
 If 'tis sinful to love you then why did love 
 steal 
 Uninvited to dwell in my heart, 
 And why should the pain of this love that 
 I feel, 
 Pierce my breast with its fierce poign- 
 ant dart? 
 
 33 
 
IF J TIS SINFUL TO LOVE YOU 
 
 If 'tis sinful to love you, but this cannot 
 be, 
 Oh ! I will not believe it is true, 
 God Himself sent this wonderful passion 
 to me, 
 And I know 'tis requited by you. 
 
 34 
 
G 
 
 RECALLED 
 
 OME back to me, dear, do you know 
 I am grieving 
 And sick with regret that I sent you 
 away? 
 The world is a dull, dreary place since 
 your leaving, 
 The light has gone out and the shadows 
 are gray. 
 
 My duty declares I must yield every 
 pleasure 
 Your tender devotion has given to me, 
 It bids me surrender each token and treas- 
 ure 
 That brings back a thought or a mem'ry 
 of thee. 
 
 It barters my love for the hope of a 
 Heaven 
 Where souls that are true through Eter- 
 nity dwell, 
 It vows if I hold you, to me will be given 
 The scorn of the world and the torture 
 of Hell. 
 
 I want to do right but my lips part in 
 longing 
 With fond words of love that we only 
 have known, 
 
 35 
 
RECALLED 
 
 I try to forget but though glad hosts are 
 thronging, 
 When you are away I'm alone, I'm 
 alone. 
 
 I pray to be strong but my soul is defying 
 
 Society's laws, be they ever so true, 
 I wish to be brave but my fond heart is 
 crying 
 And calling the long, dreary hours for 
 you. 
 
 I strive to be calm but my breast is aquiver 
 
 With passionate longing and panting 
 
 desire, 
 
 My blood like a turbulent sea-seeking 
 
 river 
 
 Is flushing my veins with a volcanic fire. 
 
 Tonight I am wild for your voice and 
 your laughter, 
 Your clasp and your kiss, oh, the future 
 is black, 
 I will see you again and the bitter here- 
 after 
 I'll leave to God's mercy and good- 
 ness — Come back. 
 
 36 
 
THE SONG OF THE VAMPIRE 
 
 SOMEBODY who loves him is wait- 
 ing at home, 
 While I who have lured him away 
 And led him to leave her and restlessly 
 roam, 
 Sit with him in the brilliant cafe, 
 While the drink-maddened crowd, with 
 their thoughts light as foam, 
 Group around us in gaudy array. 
 
 Oh I know how she's waiting in loneliness 
 there, 
 How she paces in fevered unrest 
 As she harks for the step that she loves, on 
 the stair, 
 How her heart with its pain is oppressed, 
 How her faith almost dies in her wond'ring 
 despair, 
 As the light of hope fades in her breast. 
 
 But I silence my conscience that stings like 
 a whip, 
 (When I think of those nights long 
 
 a g°)> 
 And I lift the red wine to my sensuous lip, 
 
 With a smile both alluring and slow. 
 
 37 
 
THE SONG OF THE VAMPIRE 
 
 I will quaff the rich draught to the very 
 last sip, 
 While my laughter is mellow and low. 
 
 Once I waited like she, through the long 
 throbbing night, 
 For the sound of the footstep I loved, 
 But the woman who held him cared naught 
 for my plight, 
 Nor with pity nor mercy was moved. 
 Shall I cease my wild pleasure or check my 
 delight 
 Since that other so merciless proved? 
 
 Hither, slave, bring the wine while the mu- 
 sic goes on, 
 Let it glisten and sparkle and foam, 
 Here he stays at my side till the last star 
 is gone, 
 Time enough with the morn to atone, 
 When all weary and spent he goes trailing 
 at dawn 
 To the woman who loves him — at home. 
 
 38 
 
THY LOVE HAS ALL FLED 
 
 THY love has all fled for the heart 
 that didst tremble 
 And flutter with passionate joy near to 
 thine, 
 Thy dear tender eyes that wood violets re- 
 semble 
 No more flash sweet longing and love 
 into mine. 
 
 Thou lovest another, ah, false as the siren 
 
 That croons to the light o'er the billowy 
 
 sea, 
 
 Another now basks in that tender environ 
 
 I once fondly dreamed belonged wholly 
 
 to me. 
 
 Those glamours enchanting, that glisten so 
 brightly, 
 The weaving of which is so easy for thee, 
 The heart thou art breaking by thee held 
 so lightly, 
 While sport to thee, dearest, is anguish 
 to me. 
 
 39 
 
FORGETTING THEE 
 
 AM I forgetting thee, dear heart, dear 
 heart, 
 The old mad anguish now has left me 
 
 quite, 
 And in life's tasks again I take some part, 
 And thoughts of thee come only with the 
 
 night, 
 Where once they were each burdened 
 
 hour with me, 
 Am I forgetting thee, forgetting thee. 
 
 The poignant pain that ached within my 
 
 breast, 
 At losing thee has mercifully flown, 
 And life and hope and thoughtless youth's 
 
 unrest, 
 All fill the time save when I am alone, 
 'Tis only then thy treasured face I see, 
 x4m I forgetting thee, forgetting thee. 
 
 Am I forgetting thee, dear heart, dear 
 
 heart, 
 Today came one my heart had held before 
 I met thee dear, down in the busy mart, 
 And to his words I listened as of yore. 
 And smiles came to my lips most rare to 
 
 see, 
 Am I forgetting thee, forgetting thee. 
 
 40 
 
FORGETTING THEE 
 
 Am I forgetting thee, ah love of mine, 
 I cannot think I am forgetting thee, 
 That love we knew that was so near di- 
 vine, 
 I would not have its mem'ry steal from me. 
 Come back and still my guide and comfort 
 
 be, 
 Lest I — Oh God — Am I forgetting thee. 
 
 41 
 
THE TWO 
 
 ONE knows the joy of a new found 
 bliss, 
 One knows the sting of a loss, 
 One knows the cling of his fervent kiss, 
 One bears the weight of a cross. 
 
 One lies at night in her blest content, 
 One hears the pine trees moan, 
 
 One praises God that her love was sent, 
 One weeps in the dark alone. 
 
 One draws him close in her fond embrace 
 And vows that they ne'er shall part, 
 
 One sees in dreams his remembered face, 
 And wars with the pain in her heart. 
 
 One has the love that her heart demands 
 And all that her soul could crave, 
 
 One longs for the touch of his tender hands, 
 And prays for the strength to be brave. 
 
 42 
 
I WONDER IF YOU EVER THINK 
 OF ME 
 
 I WONDER if you ever think of me, 
 In quiet moments when you are 
 alone, 
 Does not a memory sometimes come to thee 
 Of happy days that you and I have 
 known? 
 Sweet days so full of peace and harmony 
 That now alas, with bitter years have 
 flown. 
 
 I think of you dear one and in despair, 
 I see each olden scene of fond delight, 
 
 I kiss again your lips — your golden hair, 
 And see your smile so tender and so 
 bright 
 
 Ah, those lost hours so precious and so rare, 
 Pm longing, longing so for them tonight. 
 
 My angry words and bitter I regret, 
 
 I wish that they might all forgotten be, 
 Can you not blot them out and quite forget, 
 Rememb'ring but those dreams of ec- 
 stasy? 
 Perhaps 'twere best that we should part 
 and yet, 
 I would that you might sometimes think 
 of me. 
 
 43 
 
LUCINE 
 
 LUCINE is dead, I know she is not 
 here, 
 Yet somehow, as I sit alone tonight, 
 It seems her spirit must be ho v' ring near, 
 In some strange form invisible to sight. 
 Her wild caresses seem to thrill me now, 
 Hot, clinging to my lips and eyes and 
 brow. 
 
 Last night I dreamed, and dreaming saw 
 
 Lucine 
 With all the old time love-light in her eyes, 
 Describing some fair land where she had 
 
 been 
 Since entering the realm of Paradise. 
 And as she talked, with pretty sylph-like 
 
 grace, 
 She veiled her hair upon my upturned 
 
 face. 
 
 I did not love Lucine — but told her so, 
 Whene'er she asked in fond insistent way, 
 She was so lavish in the long ago, 
 A pretty toy, she pleased me for a day. 
 What man but would have drained the 
 
 proffered cup, 
 Which I had prized, had she withheld a 
 
 sup. 
 
 44 
 
LUCINE 
 
 She was so fair at first, that in delight, 
 I dreamed of stealing from her cheeks the 
 
 bloom, 
 And kissing her red lips till they were 
 
 white 
 And languid as the moonlight on a tomb. 
 My manly veins ran mad with molten fire, 
 How could I know that I so soon should 
 
 tire? 
 
 And when at last I left her, how she cried 
 And trembled when I said that last 
 
 good-by, 
 And then she sadly drooped and slowly 
 
 died, 
 One night when none were near to hear her 
 
 sigh. 
 'Twas better that she died, I well could 
 
 miss 
 Her tear-stained face that marred my hours 
 
 of bliss. 
 
 This haunting fear is nervousness, and still 
 She seems to come so close to me and gloat, 
 I quiver with a horrid sick'ning thrill, 
 I almost feel her hands upon my throat, 
 
 45 
 
LUCINE 
 
 Those little hands that with their soft ca- 
 ress 
 
 Swept o'er me with such pleading tender- 
 ness. 
 
 Pshaw, poor Lucine within the grave lies 
 
 deep, 
 It is the rain I hear — not tears, the sigh 
 That comes sometimes to rob me of my 
 
 sleep 
 Is but the eerie night wind moaning by. 
 The dead come never back to earth, and yet 
 I would to God that I could quite forget. 
 
 4 6 
 
WHO COUNTS THE COST 
 
 WHO counts the cost of Love, for Oh, 
 It costs, it costs to love, 
 In wand' ring o'er this weary earth, 
 
 How oft I see it proved. 
 So many are the heartaches 
 
 That follow in Love's train, 
 His pleasures ne'er can compensate 
 
 For all his throes of pain, 
 But where's the lover who would count the 
 
 cost? 
 
 The patriot who guards the flag 
 
 Knows all the pain of love, 
 For sake of country he would yield 
 
 All things 'neath Heav'n above. 
 All glowing hopes and aims and dreams 
 
 Of life are given o'er, 
 It costs to say farewell and sail 
 
 To some wild foreign shore, 
 But where's the patriot who counts the 
 cost? 
 
 The mother bending o'er her babe, 
 She knows the price it costs 
 
 To guard and guide the precious craft 
 On life's bleak billows tossed. 
 
 How patiently she toils away 
 Till silver sheens her hair, 
 
 47 
 
WHO COUNTS THE COST 
 
 How oft the night winds hear her moans, 
 
 Her sobs and tears and prayer, 
 But where's the mother who would count 
 the cost? 
 
 The lass liat loves, how well she knows, 
 
 The re in the trysting place, 
 In raptures in her lover's arms, 
 
 His kisses on her face, 
 His low voice pleading in her ear, 
 
 Her throbbing heart as well, 
 She knows perhaps to pay the price 
 
 Her soul is lost in Hell. 
 Ah, if a lass would only count the cost. 
 
 4 8 
 
A WOMAN'S WAY 
 
 ONE gave her gifts that were costly, 
 Bright jewels and treasures most 
 rare, 
 The other one wrote just a brief formal 
 note 
 And sent her a rose for her hair. 
 
 The jewels she wears in their splendor, 
 And smiles in her seeming delight, 
 
 But the sweet faded rose and the short 
 formal note, 
 She kisses and weeps o'er at night. 
 
 49 
 
WARNED 
 
 YOU'RE unhappy, my fair little neigh- 
 bor dear, 
 All your sadness to me is plain, 
 And my heart thrills for you with a name- 
 less fear, 
 Aye, in spite of the cheer you feign. 
 
 I can see you are tired of the lonely life 
 You are living. Is this not so? 
 
 You are just a heart-hungry, neglected 
 wife, 
 And you're longing for love, I know. 
 
 Oh, this is my prayer, little soul so brave, 
 (And for strength you have need to 
 pray), 
 
 May no other bring you the love you crave, 
 Or seek to entice you away. 
 
 For as sure as the sky is bright blue above, 
 As sure as the earth's below, 
 
 As sure as a woman was born to love, 
 So sure am I that you would go. 
 
 And this is the motto I bid you read 
 And read till your latest breath, 
 
 And this is the warning I bid you heed, 
 "The Wages of Sin Is Death." 
 
 50 
 
BEREFT 
 
 ^FT when the mystic witchery 
 
 Of midnight weaves a spell 
 Around, and for a little while 
 
 In Dreamland's realm I dwell, 
 I seem to see you, dear one, 
 
 As I saw you in the days 
 When you and I were happy, 
 Ere the parting of the ways. 
 
 You smile upon me and my veins 
 
 Again are swept with fire, 
 You touch me gently and I burn 
 
 With passionate desire. 
 You draw me closely to you • 
 
 As our two hearts madly beat, 
 Our arms entwine in fondness, 
 
 And our lips in rapture meet. 
 
 The tender low persuasion 
 
 Of your voice so near divine 
 The wonderful invasion 
 
 Of Love's secret inner shrine, 
 The wild unreas'ning blindness 
 
 Of our strange forbidden bliss, 
 The meeting, ming'ling, melting 
 
 Of our souls in one long kiss, 
 
 51 
 
BEREFT 
 
 I live it o'er in fancy- 
 While the weird past brightly gleams, 
 
 When sleep has oped the doorway 
 
 To the mystic realm of dreams. 
 
 I waken, God ! I listen, 
 
 But I hear your voice no more, 
 My lips purse hungrily but miss, 
 
 The warm response of yore. 
 My arms reach out to press you 
 
 To my lonely, yearning heart, 
 They find you not, and empty fall 
 
 In agony apart. 
 
 I call to you 'mid broken sobs 
 
 "Oh, love come back tome." 
 A dreary echo answers back 
 
 In hollow mockery. 
 Sometimes I wonder if you hear 
 
 Or if you do not know 
 That I am calling for you, dear, 
 
 And longing for you so. 
 
 But no, e'en though Death sealed your eyes 
 
 And lips in silence dumb, 
 If you could know I need you so, 
 
 You would awake and come. 
 
 52 
 
ONLY A WEEK 
 
 I HAVE only a week to wait, thought 
 she, 
 (A maiden white as a dove), 
 Only one short week until I will be 
 The bride of the man I love. 
 
 And she trembled to think of that first 
 wife-kiss 
 She would press to his eager lips, 
 And her soul was thrilled by a surge of 
 bliss, 
 That pulsed to her finger tips. 
 
 I have only a week to wait, thought he, 
 And he gloated in keen delight, 
 
 Until she in her innocent purity 
 Is mine on that nuptial night. 
 
 And he groaned as he thought of his sinful 
 past, 
 ' Of the lep'rous thing he had been, 
 Of the revels and orgies thank God, at 
 last 
 He was leaving the path of sin. 
 
 53 
 
ONLY A WEEK 
 
 Soon the week passed by and the bells rang 
 out, 
 Aclang in their molten glee, 
 And the maiden white, ere the morning 
 light 
 Was as tainted and stained as he. 
 
 $4 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 
 
TO ELLA WHEELER WILCOX 
 
 THY songs are like a fountain 
 With a bubbling, sparkling brink, 
 Where tired, thirsty travelers 
 
 May pause awhile and drink. 
 And none have been so sinful 
 
 Or so much of joy have quaffed, 
 But gain a world of comfort 
 
 From its soothing, limpid draught. 
 
 Oh, write nor deem the smallest thought 
 
 From thy dear pen unfurled, 
 But cheers a million hearts among 
 
 Thy readers of the world. 
 I tremble when I think of what 
 
 Mine own life might have been, 
 Had I not been inspired by thoughts 
 
 Of thine — my Poet-Queen. 
 
 57 
 
HIS WAY 
 
 GOD wished me to be strong and so He 
 sent 
 A madd'ning grief that I must bear alone, 
 And took away my joy and my content, 
 And left me weeping prostrate at His 
 
 throne. 
 He hushed my happy laughter and my 
 
 song, 
 That I might learn "To suffer and grow 
 
 strong." 
 
 God meant me to be nobly broad, and lo, 
 He placed Temptation's vintage in my 
 
 way, 
 And bade me quaff the luscious draught 
 
 and know 
 The bitter price the sinful heart must pay, 
 That I might love the erring one, nor 
 
 frown 
 But help her up and on, instead of down. 
 
 God meant that I should strive and so in- 
 stead 
 
 Of flow'ry ways, He led through paths 
 that pained 
 
 My weary feet, and held the prize ahead 
 
 That I might know its value when attained. 
 
 58 
 
HIS WAY 
 
 And, meeting some lone wand'rer in the 
 
 night, 
 I might be wise to guide her steps aright. 
 
 With all my gifts I ne'er had reached the 
 
 goal, 
 For which I was predestined in this world, 
 Had I not known that travail of the soul, 
 In which for weary years my life was 
 
 hurled. 
 And Oh, I thank Him so, that I can see 
 His purpose in the pain He sent to me. 
 
 59 
 
THE HEARSE 
 
 THE hearse was bearing its silent 
 "fare, 55 
 To a peaceful couch in the churchyard 
 
 there, 
 And this thought came in the midst of 
 
 mirth, 
 Oh there, oh there, is the end of Earth. 
 Whatever may follow of good or ill, 
 Is a mystery silent and sealed until 
 We shall take our ride with a white set 
 
 face, 
 Away to our last long resting place. 
 
 And I thought, though my life has but 
 
 reached high noon, 
 The shadows of evening will lengthen soon, 
 For time is so fleet and the years will pass, 
 Then I 5 11 be the one in that coach of glass. 
 So what does it profit, this strange life- 
 game, 
 This greed for lucre, this thirst for fame? 
 So soon it is over, so quickly passed, 
 And lo, I must take that sad ride at last. 
 
 So I'll check the word that might wound 
 
 and sting, 
 That flies from my lips like a winged 
 
 thing, 
 
 60 
 
THE HEARSE 
 
 I will shun temptation and crush desire, 
 When my young blood burns like a liquid 
 
 fire. , 
 To the erring one I will lend a hand 
 And snatch her up like a burning brand. 
 I will give my aid to the needy poor, 
 And help some brother his pain endure. 
 
 I will mind the little things day by day, 
 And with rays of sunlight I'll strew the 
 
 way, 
 All worry and doubting and fear shall 
 
 cease, 
 And I'll drift away to the end in peace. 
 
 These are the thoughts that occur to me, 
 When the funeral train on its way I see, 
 And the hearse goes by with a slow sad 
 
 pace, 
 Bearing some one to his resting place. 
 
 61 
 
SKULLS 
 
 SOMETIMES when I am mingling 
 with a crowd 
 That chatters like a host of noisy gulls, 
 A thought will come that makes me groan 
 aloud, 
 These faces are but masks of ghastly 
 skulls 
 
 That happy face there passing to my right, 
 With sparkling eyes and hair a golden 
 mesh 
 Doth hide a skull, a loathsome, gruesome 
 sight, 
 Were it divested of its lovely flesh. 
 
 That cripple with the pain-contorted face, 
 
 Robbed of his mask of flesh would look 
 
 as well 
 
 As that fair babe who laughs with childish 
 
 grace, 
 
 Or as the haughty beauty, truth to tell. 
 
 That purse-proud dame, with condescend- 
 ing smile 
 Who scintillates with rare and precious 
 stones, 
 Behind that mask that glows and beams 
 the while 
 Is just a mass of shining slimy bones. 
 62 
 
SKULLS 
 
 The dainty lady with the costly gown, 
 The paper boy with importuning throat, 
 
 The mendicant and advertising clown, 
 All, all are skulls beneath that fleshly 
 coat. 
 
 Oh, wealthy dame, you need not be so 
 proud, 
 Oh, ugly cripple, why are you op- 
 pressed? 
 A little while and from thy burial shroud, 
 They could not tell thy skull from all 
 the rest. 
 
 Oh, silly beauty, it is all in vain 
 You flaunt your loveliness at sisters plain, 
 Thy haughty face is but the outer sheath 
 That hides a ghastly grinning skull be- 
 neath. 
 
 63 
 
THE TRUE REVENGE 
 
 ONE vengeance only I would deign to 
 take, 
 Were my arch enemy within my power, 
 Though he had caused my heart to bleed 
 and break, 
 Far back in some dim sorrow-burdened 
 hour. 
 
 Yea, I would stand afar upon a height, 
 Which selfish, narrow souls can ne'er at- 
 tain, 
 Reached only by lone striving in the night, 
 And by long years of doubting, fear and 
 pain. 
 
 Ah, then I'd turn to him my pitying gaze, 
 (Though he stood sneering up at me the 
 while), 
 And with my eyes dim-veiled by pard'ning 
 haze, 
 I'd look down from my lofty place and 
 — smile. 
 
 6 4 
 
THE DANDER BUGS 
 
 M 
 
 IZ SIMPSON knows a secret, 
 
 say! 
 
 She lives right here in town, 
 An' if your hair is fallin' out 
 
 Ye better jes' go down. 
 Fer if ye' re keerless with your hair, 
 
 An' kinder let it go, 
 The dander bugs '11 start right in 
 
 Ter grow an' grow an' grow. 
 
 An' after while they git so big 
 
 'At by an' by some day, 
 They'll come when ye ain't noticin' 
 
 An' carry ye away. 
 Miz Simpson she don't never use 
 
 No common patent drugs 
 But she hes got a secret 
 
 Thet'll kill the dander bugs. 
 
 Wy, oncet ther wuz a woman 
 
 An' her hair beginned ter fall, 
 But she never paid no 'tention 
 
 Ter the dander bugs at all, 
 An' so they kep' a growin' 
 
 An' soon they got so thick, 
 They carried her right off one day, 
 
 An' thowed her in the crick. 
 
 65 
 
THE DANDER BUGS 
 
 My maw she said 'at oncet her hair 
 
 Wus jes' that scant an' thin, 
 It warn't longer 'n down ter there 
 
 An' hardly reached her chin. 
 She went ter see Miz Simpson 
 
 Ter git a little ease, 
 An' now her hair hes growed so long 
 
 It's mostly ter her knees. 
 
 My paw he never hed no hair 
 
 Fer years an' years I guess, 
 It used ter worry maw so bad 
 
 It kep' her in distress. 
 She took him ter Miz Simpson 
 
 When he felt fine one day, 
 He only got one treatment 
 
 But the way his hair growed, Say ! 
 
 An' maw said oncet ther wus a girl 
 
 — Fergit what she wus called — 
 But all her hair wus comin' out 
 
 An' she wus nearly bald. 
 She couldn't ketch no feller, 
 
 She most wished she wus dead, 
 Till she went ter see Miz Simpson, 
 
 Now ye ought ter see her head. 
 
 66 
 
THE DANDER BUGS 
 
 Fer her hair jes' started growin' 
 
 An' I guess the folks can't scoff, 
 Fer it got so long an' purty 
 
 'At she caught a beau right off. 
 An' the reason she'd been missin' 
 
 All the squeezes an' the hugs 
 An' the spoonin' an' the kissin', 
 
 Wus account the dander bugs. 
 
 So if your hair is fallin' 
 
 An they's nothin' left ter try, 
 An' your head jes keeps a itchin' 
 
 Till ye'd ruther live than die, 
 Wy go ter see Miz Simpson, 
 
 An' thow away your drugs; 
 She'll make ye fine an' happy, 
 
 Fer she'll kill the dander bugs. 
 
 6 7 
 
CURSED AND CROWNED 
 
 I SOMETIMES feel so sad and so 
 alone, 
 Somehow, it seems that I do not belong 
 To yonder laughter-loving happy throng, 
 But on some foreign sphere or distant zone. 
 My friends are all strange beings to my 
 
 mind 
 For I have naught in common with my 
 kind. 
 
 Their idle chat and gossip never brings 
 Joy to my heart so filled with other things. 
 No sympathy have I with petty care, 
 "How shall we entertain, what shall we 
 
 wear 
 To ball or tea," my brain and soul are 
 
 filled 
 With dreams of songs that I shall sing or 
 
 thrilled 
 With some sweet couplet, happy simile 
 Or metaphor that has occurred to me. 
 
 Oh, if my humble song shall never rise 
 To that blest height in God's supernal 
 skies, 
 
 68 
 
CURSED AND CROWNED 
 
 My fate must be like some poor wounded 
 
 bird, 
 Who, longing so, but lacking power to fly, 
 Can only droop its crippled wings and die, 
 I have no place among the plodding herd. 
 
 6 9 
 
AMBER 
 
 SHE is just ten years old, and her hair's 
 burnished gold, 
 And she bothers me I must confess, 
 When she comes to my desk where I'm 
 bent o'er my task, 
 And says "Please make my dollie a 
 dress." 
 
 "Oh, now darling," I say, "won't you 
 please run away? 
 Mamma's busy and hurrying so, 
 And my head's in a whirl, there's a dear 
 little girl, 
 I must finish this song, you know." 
 
 So she kisses my lips and she gloomily trips 
 Out of doors and is soon at play, 
 
 But down deep in my heart is the agonized 
 dart 
 Of a pain that I can't drive away. 
 
 For I think with a cry if my baby should 
 die, 
 And her cold little form I should see, 
 How I'd weep o'er the time when for one 
 simple rhyme 
 I had sent her away from me. 
 
 7° 
 
AMBER 
 
 And though she should live, she must grow 
 up and give 
 The love of her heart to another, 
 Though the thought is so gray, 'tis the sad 
 old earth's way, 
 And who knows that truth like a mother. 
 
 So I go to the door and I call her once more 
 And I say "Get a needle and thread; 
 
 We will not stop to rest till your dollie is 
 dressed 
 From her feet to the top of her head. 
 
 She shall have a new hood and a coat red 
 as blood, 
 And a pretty new bow for her hair, 
 She shall have a new ruff and a little fur 
 muff 
 And a pair of new booties to wear." 
 
 Then when prayers are all said and I've 
 tucked her in bed, 
 And have kissed her and put out the 
 light, 
 And my heart from its pain has grown 
 lighter again, 
 I go back to my desk and write. 
 
 71 
 
OPTIMISM 
 
 ONE happy smile can make a day 
 Of life the brightest part, 
 One pleasant word can turn the gray 
 To gold for some sad heart. 
 
 One cheerful song may light the road 
 
 For weary burdened feet, 
 One loving glance may lift the load 
 
 Of failure and defeat. 
 
 A glance, a word, a song, a smile, 
 Such little things they seem, 
 
 Yet scattered here and there the while, 
 They brighten all life's dream. 
 
 72 
 
DAWN 
 
 OPAL and amber and gray- 
 Stealing up over the eastern hills 
 While under my window a robin trills 
 To herald the new born day. 
 
 73 
 
WOULD IT BE THE SAME? 
 
 AS I was walking through the street to- 
 day, 
 With happy heart so full of youth and 
 life, 
 Lo, suddenly a white hearse barred my 
 way, 
 Bearing some child away from care and 
 strife. 
 
 A slender little coffin through the glass 
 All decked with flowers I could plainly 
 see, 
 And as I stood, through tears to watch it 
 pass, 
 This thought came swift and suddenly 
 to me. 
 
 That little form o'er which some mother 
 weeps 
 
 Can never know life's sorrow or its pain, 
 Unmindful of it all he calmly sleeps, 
 
 Nor can he suffer more, or die again. 
 
 Perhaps God looked ahead into his life 
 And saw more trials than his strength 
 could bear, 
 
 74 
 
WOULD IT BE THE SAME? 
 
 And so He called him home away from 
 strife, 
 To dwell with Him where all is calm 
 and fair. 
 
 Perhaps there lurked some heinous crime 
 and grave, 
 Which, had he lived, his feeble hands 
 had done, 
 And so God took that mother's babe and 
 gave 
 To her this pain, to spare a greater one. 
 
 And yet I wonder would the same thought 
 come, 
 And would I praise my Blessed Lord Di- 
 vine, 
 If I stood in Death's awful presence, dumb, 
 Were I that mother and that dead child 
 mine. 
 
 75 
 
GOSSIP 
 
 THOU cruel fiend, thy barbed serpent 
 tongue, 
 More sorrow from the human heart has 
 wrung 
 
 Than Death or War or Poverty or Gold, 
 Or all the means of torture, used of old. 
 
 More misery can trace its source to Thee 
 Than aught this side of all Eternity. 
 
 More broken hearts at Thy door have been 
 
 lain, 
 Than wars of all the ages could have slain. 
 
 Thy venom' d thrust too often is the goad 
 That speeds a human soul the downward 
 road. 
 
 I think God banished Satan from the sky, 
 Because he slandered some fair soul on 
 high. 
 
 76 
 
THE OLD HOMESTEAD 
 
 FAR away in dear Nebraska, 
 Is a quiet homestead still, 
 Near a grove of sighing elders, 
 
 Nestled deep among the hills. 
 The old house stands there just the 
 same 
 As, when a little child, 
 I used to visit it and play, 
 My fancy running wild. 
 
 The quaint old-fashioned windows, 
 
 The overhanging eaves, 
 The trees nearby that whisper 
 
 To the wind among the leaves, 
 I love them all for there I spent 
 
 The golden hours of life, 
 Nor dreamed of sorrow waiting 
 
 In a world of care and strife. 
 
 Still in the meadow, buttercups 
 
 And yellow daisies grow, 
 The same as when I gathered them 
 
 So long, so long ago. 
 The tiny brook below the hill 
 
 Still mourns its little song, 
 A sadder one than when I played 
 
 Its flowered banks along. 
 
 77 
 
THE OLD HOMESTEAD 
 
 And other children listen now 
 
 To catch its tones so sweet, 
 Its waters lave as tenderly 
 
 Some other childish feet. 
 And I fancy in its f rettling 
 
 Is a farewell minor lay 
 To all those rosy dreams of life 
 
 I dreamed in childhood's day. 
 
 But now a more pretentious house 
 
 The old one stands beside, 
 Between it and the road close by 
 
 As if it fain would hide 
 That humble one from all the world, 
 
 Still that gray cot to me, 
 Is dearer far than mansions 
 
 Made of browns tone, e'er could be. 
 
 I love Thee, childhood's shelter, 
 
 Let Thee wither and decay, 
 Thy memory will remain with me 
 
 Till life's departing day. 
 They try to hide with grandeur 
 
 Thy dear old rafters, yet 
 I wear thy picture in my heart 
 
 And ne'er will I forget. 
 
 78 
 
SCOTCH LULLABY 
 
 SLEEP, my bairnie, on my bosom, 
 A' the happy day is done, 
 Ilka bird and ilka blossom 
 Went to rest at set o' sun. 
 
 Ne'er a flow'r its petals closes 
 Half sae luvely as thou art, 
 
 Ne'er a bonnie bird reposes 
 
 Half sae dear to my fond heart. 
 
 God, who watches o'er the flowers 
 And the birds o'er land an' sea, 
 
 Keeps his guard through night's lang 
 hours 
 Oh, my precious bairn o'er thee. 
 
 Sleep, my bairnie, on my bosom, 
 A' the happy day is done, 
 
 Ilka bird and ilka blossom 
 Went to rest at set o' sun. 
 
 79 
 
DOC PUTNAM'S BAND 
 
 I WENT daown to the Fargo Fair, 
 Took Sairy an' the rest, 
 I 'lowed she'd worked all summer, 
 
 An' done her very best 
 Ter help along, an' never said 
 She'd done more'n her share, 
 Er onct complained and so I 'lowed 
 I'd take her ter the Fair. 
 
 We hitched up in the mornin' 
 
 'Fore sun up, on my word, 
 Says I, "We'll git there early," 
 
 An' you can bet we heard 
 'Bout ever thing wuth hearin' — 
 
 I tell ye it was grand, 
 But say, the best thing at the Fair 
 
 Was Doctor Putnam's band. 
 
 I reckon I've heerd music 
 
 On piannys, an' I've laffed 
 My self 'bout sick a listenin' ter 
 
 Si Jenkins' phoney-graft. 
 I've even went ter old St. Paul 
 
 Ter Oprys thet wus grand, 
 But say, they warn't in it 
 
 With Doctor Putnam's band. 
 
 80 
 
DOC PUTNAM'S BAND 
 
 *& 
 
 They was an air ship, blamedest thin^ 
 
 Yes, sir, 'twas at the Fair, 
 Jes' looked like some big bloomin' bird 
 
 A flyin' throo the air. 
 I reckon they'll soon auto 'round 
 
 On air as well as land, 
 But law, that's no attraction 
 
 'Longside o' Putnam's band. 
 
 They hed a little city, too, 
 
 'Y Jolly thet was cute, 
 Jes' like a reg'lar grown up taown 
 
 With a whole coal mine to boot. 
 An' there was snakes an' 'lectric shows 
 
 An' things on every hand, 
 But most I keered fur of them all 
 
 Was Doctor Putnam's band. 
 
 An' Sairy, wy, I never see 
 
 The like o' Sairy now, 
 She seemed so quiet like, I thought 
 
 She didn't keer somehow 
 Fer music much, but she jes' got 
 
 The kids up by a stand, 
 An' stood the hull endurin' time 
 
 A listenin' to the band. 
 
 81 
 
DOC PUTNAM'S BAND 
 
 They was an Ocean Wave an' swing 
 
 An' big wheel thet went 'round, 
 "A Fairies' Wheel" they call it, 
 
 I think, but I'll be bound, 
 I couldn't git them kids a step 
 
 Not after all they'd planned, 
 They 'lowed they'd give up all the rest 
 
 Ter hear Doc Putnam's band. 
 
 The races they was mighty good, 
 
 I hed a caow or two 
 Thet took a prize, I knew they would 
 
 Fer our caows allers do, 
 An' Sairy took first on a quilt, 
 
 While I drew one fer sand, 
 But gosh, I clean fergot 'em all 
 
 A hearin' Putnam's band. 
 
 They was a "Hoochy Koochy" show 
 
 From some big furreign taown, 
 With wild-eyed men an' half-dressed 
 gals 
 
 A kiyien' araound. 
 They mebbe like that music 
 
 Back in that furreign land, 
 I wonder what they'd think, if they 
 
 Could hear Doc Putnam's band? 
 
 82 
 
DOC PUTNAM'S BAND 
 
 I reckon Doc 'ud think that I 
 
 Don't know baout music much, 
 He'd think I was a hayseed 
 
 Er old mossback er such, 
 But I don't keer what he 'ud think 
 
 I'd like ter shake his hand, 
 And say ter him, "Say, Doc, you've gat 
 
 A right nice little band." 
 
 83 
 
TWO PICTURES 
 
 A GARDEN fair, where blushing roses 
 grow, 
 A silvered evening in the month of June, 
 A hidden fountain somewhere tink'ling 
 
 low, 
 High overhead a smiling summer moon, 
 And all forgetful that the hour is late, 
 Two plighted lovers dreaming at the gate. 
 
 The white snow lying thick on steep and 
 
 vale, 
 A nest'ling church with slender, to tt' ring 
 
 spire, 
 The red sun sinking o'er the western hill. 
 In molten splendor like an orb of fire. 
 A graveyard where a lonely grave-stone 
 
 lifts 
 Its gaunt height here and there among the 
 
 drifts. 
 
 8 4 
 
AFTER CLOUDS— SUNSHINE 
 
 IF all of life were happiness 
 Nor tempered with a care, 
 We could not prize our blessings 
 When all is glad and fair, 
 
 For as the Earth seems lovely 
 And brighter after rain, 
 
 So do our lives seem brighter 
 When we have suffered pain. 
 
 Dark clouds will rise and cover 
 The bluest summer sky, 
 
 But, ah, how fair the world seems 
 When they have drifted by. 
 
 For God it was Who planned it, 
 He knows our joys, our fears, 
 
 He sends the rain and sunshine, 
 He sends our smiles and tears. 
 
 And though the dark clouds hover, 
 If we are brave the while, 
 
 The storm will soon pass over, 
 Then — sunshine and the smile. 
 
 85 
 
EVENING 
 
 DUSK and hush and. the drowsy call 
 Of a far off whip-poor-will, 
 Darkness deepening over all, 
 And a star above the hill. 
 
 Frogs that sing in a monotone, 
 A thread-like moon that shines, 
 
 An owl that grieves with a lonesome 
 moan 
 And a sob among the pines. 
 
 86 
 
BACK TO EARTH 
 
 WE had talked of Love and Poetry, 
 Of Music and of Art, 
 Of Ethics and ^Esthetics 
 
 And that subject old — the Heart. 
 
 I had found him so congenial 
 That Pd just begun to feel, 
 
 In him at last was realized 
 A long-looked-f or ideal. 
 
 I believe I almost loved him, 
 (His blue eyes and raven hair) 
 
 And I felt that I could trust him 
 If my life were in his care. 
 
 But my woman's heart was longing 
 For assurance, don't you see, 
 
 So I asked him his idea 
 
 Of what Happiness might be. 
 
 Oh, I hung upon his answer 
 
 And imagine my dismay, 
 When I heard his dear lips murmur 
 
 "Three good hearty squares a day." 
 
 87 
 
THE TWA CATS 
 
 9^| A WAS in Chicago's braid domains, 
 A That queen o' a' the western 
 plains, — 
 Upon a dark suburban street, 
 Twa cats a simmer night did meet. 
 
 The night was fair wi' luvely June, 
 A church spire halved the braw fu' moon, 
 Auld Michigan's waters lapped and 
 
 lashed 
 As if wi' warldly worries fash't, 
 While far awa the lights an' din 
 Gave proof the Deil was out for sin. 
 
 The first cat was nae common cat, 
 Ane glance at her would tell ye that. 
 Her silken hair an' soulfu' eyes 
 Had won her mony a temptin' prize. 
 Where'er she went or here or there, 
 At feline show or tea or fair, 
 She was the pet o' ilka woman, 
 Amaist as if she had been human. 
 She towered fu' twa feet in height, 
 Her hair was yellow, lang an' bright, 
 An' round her gracefu' neck there hung 
 A chain f rae which a diamond swung. 
 Her mistress (grand an' haughty dame) 
 Had ca'd her some high soundin' name 
 
 88 
 
THE TWA CATS 
 
 Like Buffy Ruffles, far too lang 
 To clink or rhyme weel i' my sang, 
 Sae half for rhyme an' half for sport, 
 I'se ca' her Buff an 5 mak it short. 
 Now though sae far above them, she 
 Scorned not the cats o' low degree, 
 An' ane she luved the best of a' 
 Hailed frae a lab'rer's cottage sma. 
 This poor cat's name was simply, Blue, 
 A maltese puss wi' plaintive mew, 
 Wha prowled abraid for mice, at night, 
 Or slept or squintet i' the light. 
 Upon her neck she scorned to wear 
 A thing except her thick blue hair, 
 But though a sonsie quiet cat 
 She luved Puss Buff, for a' o' that. 
 
 The night I speak of they'd been out 
 To snowk for mice, the streets about, 
 Till baith fatigued, an' short o' breath, 
 They sat them down the trees beneath, 
 Then confidential, face to face, 
 This talk I will relate took place. 
 
 BUFF. 
 
 "I trust ye will na be offended, 
 For nae offense to ye's intended, 
 But, trouth, my brain is in a mist, 
 
 8 9 
 
THE TWA CATS 
 
 As how poor cats like ye exist. 
 I've watched ye as ye snooved awa' 
 To that wee cot sae gray an' sma', 
 An' wi' the problem I hae striven, 
 Of how ye manage to keep livin'. 
 Now as for me I'm sae weel fed, 
 I sleep upon a silken bed, 
 My maid is here to stroke my hair. 
 An' fix my ribbons fine wi' care, 
 My mistress takes me oot for walks, 
 She pets an' kisses me an' talks, 
 Until I'm sure wi' out attention, 
 Life wad be quite too sad to mention. 
 Come tell me truly, Pussie Blue, 
 What felines in your station do." 
 
 BLUE. 
 
 "Weel, weel, to think that I should be 
 
 A cause for fash is news to me. 
 
 Ye ken the house I ca' my hame, 
 
 My mistress is a happy dame, 
 
 Wha wi' her house-hauld care is thrang 
 
 An' sings an' toils the whole day lang. 
 
 She sweeps an' dusts an' scrubs an' 
 
 cleans, 
 An' what wi' master an' the weans 
 To cook an' wash for, darn an' mend, 
 Ye ken her task ne'er sees an end. 
 
 90 
 
THE TWA CATS 
 
 An' seldom she finds time to spare 
 To speak to me or stroke my hair, 
 An' as for hugs an' pets an' kisses, 
 I'm strange to a' sic joy as this is. 
 I'm left alone to gae to sleep 
 Upon the hearthrug or to creep 
 Nights when it's cold into the nest 
 Where weanies tak their nightly rest. 
 But though sae poor, I am a cat, 
 Wha luves to live, for a' o' that. 
 Now, Buff, I've seen sic brilliant lights 
 Wi' in ye' re mansion late at nights, 
 I hae been wond'rin what 'tis for, 
 These some twa three weeks now or 
 
 more. 
 An' since we're tellin' facts sae plain, 
 I'se ask ye kindly to explain." 
 
 BUFF. 
 
 "Ah, ken ye na what's brewin' there, 
 Wi' in our mansion braid an' fair? 
 Weel lean a wee bit closer me, 
 An' I will whisper it. Ye see 
 The women a' are takin' note 
 An' plottin' how to get to vote. 
 It seems the men hae been abusin' 
 An' a' their pleas hae been refusin' 
 
 91 
 
THE TWA CATS 
 
 So now they're meetin' round thegither 
 To plot an' ponder as to whether 
 They canna somehow get the right 
 To cheat the men an' vent their spite. 
 
 "A deal o' noise an' din they make 
 When singin' 'Wake, O woman, wake,' 
 They march around wi' frenzied chant 
 In manner unco militant. 
 They a' sit down an' listen then, 
 While ane stands up an' scores the men. 
 In truth, Puss Blue, 'twould gar ye greet 
 To hear how awfu' men mistreat 
 Their wives an' sisters, mithers, too, 
 'Tis past belief, the things they do. 
 
 "At midnight comes a dainty lunch, 
 The women chat an' smirk an' munch, 
 But never ance yet hae I seen 
 Amang them what ye ca' a 'wean.' 
 Still they are not to blame, ye see, 
 They maun take care o' cats like me. 
 But Blue, I think, between us two, 
 When they're thegither thus they do 
 A sight more talk o' gowns an' coats 
 An' o' their neebors than o' votes. 
 Weel now since I've explained the lights, 
 Come, how do your folks spend the 
 nights?" 
 
 92 
 
THE TWA CATS 
 
 BLUE. 
 
 "When supper's done an' hame is bright, 
 Wi' ingle's glow an' cheerfu' light, 
 The weans the dishes wash an' wipe, 
 While master reads or smokes his pipe. 
 My mistress sews an' mends the socks 
 Or patches countless duddie frocks, 
 While back an' forth the cradle flies 
 Lest wee sma weanie wakes an' cries. 
 
 "Then lessons for the next schoolday 
 Are quickly learned an' put away, 
 At nine o'clock the prayers are said, 
 An' weanies then are tucked in bed. 
 Whiles neebor drops in for an hour, 
 To talk o' politics an' power, 
 An' mistress listens wi' a smile, 
 An' gies opinion wise the while, 
 But on my word, I'se wad a groat, 
 She would na care a snap to vote. 
 Luve rules her heart an' luve's enough, 
 Hae ye a master, too, Puss Buff?" 
 
 BUFF. 
 
 "Weel, now, by a' that's gude I swear 
 For ance, Miss Blue, ye hae me there. 
 For to be truthfu' to your quiz, 
 I canna tell wha master is. 
 
 93 
 
THE TWA CATS 
 
 There's ane sma' man wi' meikle specs 
 Wha writes an' signs my mistress' 
 
 checks, 
 His face is aye sae sad an' worn, 
 He looks sae weary an' forlorn, 
 Sometimes my heart is wae for fear, 
 He canna live throughout the year. 
 
 "An' there is ane wha comes at night 
 When poor auld Speckie's out o' sight, 
 He's tall an' braw wi' manner grand, 
 He haulds an' kisses mistress' hand, 
 Sae ye can see as weel's mysel 
 Wha master is, I canna tell." 
 
 But by this time the moon had set, 
 The grass wi' sparklin' dew was wet, 
 An early bird f rae far awa, 
 Was whimperin' his dreamy ca' 
 While came frae some street far apart, 
 The tinkle o' a milkman's cart. 
 Sae by a short path through the park 
 The cats ran hameward i' the dark. 
 
 94 
 
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