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RHYMES 
 
 BY HAL WYATT 
 
 DEDICATED TO MY MOTHER 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY THE 
 AUTHOR 
 
 1922 
 HAL WYATT 
 
 1210 WEST THIRTY-SIXTH STREET 
 
 Los ANGELES. CALIFORNIA 
 
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 COPYRIGHT 1922, 
 
 By 
 
 HAL WYATT. 
 
 ©C1A6SS836 
 
 N0VV5i922 
 
 'Vv* 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 THE ROLLING TIDE 7 
 
 THE PROMISE OF MORNING 9 
 
 THE BLABBERS 11 
 
 THE BIRTH OF THE FLOWERS 13 
 
 SING ME A SONG OF SIX-PENCE 15 
 
 WHAT'S THE USE OF V/ISHING? 17 
 
 I AIN'T NO MARRYING MAN 19 
 
 POOR LITTLE TEDDY BEAR 21 
 
 REFLECTION 22 
 
 DER SILLY SCRAP 23 
 
 THERE IS NO TIME TO WEEP 24 
 
 HOW SWEET ARE YOU? 25 
 
 TODAYS BUT YESTERDAYS 26 
 
 LIS'EN HONEY 27 
 
 THE SONG OF CHRISTMAS BELLS 29 
 
 A SISTER 32 
 
 THE MATING CALL 33 
 
 WHAT I LEARNED AT SCHOOL 34 
 
 HOOK WORM 37 
 
 TO BE AT PEACE 38 
 
 I KNOW EVERYTHING 39 
 
 MAMMY'S LULLABY 40 
 
 HI, THERE! 41 
 
 TO THYSELF BE TRUE 42 
 
 THE CROSS 42 
 
 TIME DOES NOT CHANGE 43 
 
 WHO PLEASES US 43 
 
 HE WHO IS GREAT 43 
 
 NO APOLOGY 44 
 
 THE FISHERMEN 45 
 
THE ROLLING TIDE 
 
 The rolling tide of the sea of life 
 
 Rolls o'er the sands of time, 
 And bears through ocean's seething strife 
 
 My fragile craft, sublime. 
 Its far most prow has lapped the shore 
 
 And time holds out its hand. 
 One clasp and then the ocean's roar 
 
 Draws back away from land. 
 
 sea, of life from whence I came 
 
 And where again I go, 
 I've been an instant, learned a Name 
 
 And now the tide runs low, 
 Before I was I did not know 
 
 Nor yet I understand, 
 And now the tide is running low 
 
 And bearing me from land. 
 
RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 bounding sea, canst tell thou me 
 
 That flows from whence I came, 
 What store there is for me at sea 
 
 Since I have learned a Name? 
 A Name that is and always was 
 
 And yet I did not know 
 Until an instant's consciousness 
 
 And now the tide runs low. 
 
 Will fresher tides bear me to land 
 
 A million times in time 
 'Til consciousness will understand 
 
 In realms of thoughts sublime? 
 I've been in time and learned a Name 
 
 And now the chill winds blow. 
 My frail craft drifts from whence I came 
 
 As tides are running low. 
 
 M 
 
 
KHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 THE PROMISE OF MORNING 
 
 There's a promise in the morning 
 
 When tiie grass is wet with dew, 
 When the first rays are adorning 
 
 SiDear and twig with rainbow hue, 
 When the air is sweet and cooling 
 
 Blowing fragrance from the fields 
 And we know there's Someone ruling 
 
 With a promise of rich yields. 
 
 V»^hen the cows are early lowing 
 
 Seems as if they understood, 
 While the chanticleers shrill crowing 
 
 Just because they feel so good 
 Brings an answer to their calling 
 
 From their neighbors' joyous throats, 
 And the thrushes' notes a falling 
 
 Breathes a promise in the notes. 
 
 Notice how the gay grasshopper 
 
 In the fresh morn hops with glee, 
 There's no use to try to stop her 
 
 As her heart is gay and free. 
 And the jay upon the arbor 
 
 Bobs its head in sheer delight 
 Telling all that mornings harbor 
 
 Promises that live through night. 
 

 THE BLABBERS 
 
RHYMES— Wyatt 11 
 
 THE BLABBERS 
 
 Just how the tale got out, I swan ! 
 
 I'm sure I can't discover 
 But now its told for miles around 
 
 That I am Jane Brown's lover, 
 We both were pledged to secrecy 
 
 'Til I had won my spurs. 
 And the only way it 'pears to me 
 
 Is just what Jane avers, 
 We whispered it beneath the tree, 
 
 Who told it to the smart pee-wee. 
 Who must have blabbed it to the bee 
 
 And that old bungling, bumble bee 
 Has sung around 'bout Jane and me. 
 
 I know that tree, a tatling pine 
 
 Where I had carved Jane's name with mine 
 And deeply lined sweet Cupid's dart 
 
 Struck through the center of a heart, 
 We loved her aromatic breath 
 
 And both vowed love clear on through death 
 Beneath her branches' woven shade, 
 
 But now she's tattled, I'm afraid. 
 We only spoke it 'neath that tree, 
 
 She must have told that pert pee-wee, 
 That chatter-box blabbed to the bee, 
 
 (The lazy, droning bumble bee) 
 Who's sung around 'bout Jane and me. 
 
12 RHYMES— Wyat 
 
 Because I built a rustic seat 
 
 Around the trunk of that pine tree, 
 Where every day I went to meet 
 
 Dear Jane, who came to be with me, 
 I'm sure 'tv/ould not cause folks to think 
 
 That I loved Jane and she loved me 
 But when 1 pass I see them wink 
 
 All on account of that pine tree. 
 yes, the tree, told the pee-wee, 
 
 Who couldn't wait to tell the bee, 
 (The driveling-, blabbing bumble bee) 
 
 And course he's blabbed 'bout Jane and me. 
 
P.HYMES— Wyatt 13 
 
 K^^^Ur^'l.^.:^^^^^^^ 
 
 THE BIRTH OF THE FLOWERS 
 
 The ambrosial days have come with all their vernal throng 
 Attended by the choral hosts, that bathes the woods in 
 song, 
 
 The feathered deputation sing, "behold the birth of flowers," 
 They're clinging to the breasts of earth in shady nooks 
 and bowers. 
 
 On tendril stem the violet, sways in the austral breeze, 
 
 While buttercups with golden smiles and softly toned 
 
 I heartsease 
 
 iGlow brightly like effulgent gems beneath the sap wet trees. 
 
 |The thrush sings in the lilac bush whose globate buds have 
 
 I burst, 
 
 I While impearled devvs, in lily cups, dissolve and quench 
 their thirst, 
 
 Sweetwilliams troop across the fields that lately lay impregn, 
 
 ■ Whose breath the meadow larks descant in unified es- 
 teem. 
 
 The grasses green in emerald sheen have carpeted the lanes 
 And hedges run unbrageous lines across the heathered 
 plains. 
 
 While down the slopes the blue bell hosts trip in joyous 
 trains. 
 
14 RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 The sun beam wooes the dandelion and lives in her embrace, 
 The roguish little zephers kiss the wind flowers blush- 
 ing face, 
 Mother earth in sweet content, which maternal instincts 
 bring, 
 Basks in the joy of motherhood and nurses her offsping. 
 In euphonic notes the song birds sing, ''the flowers are born 
 again," 
 While through the reed harmonium, the wind plays 
 the refrain 
 And mellifluent streams murmur, "I'm glad they've come 
 again." 
 
EHYMES— Wyatt 15 
 
 SING ME A SONG OF SIX-PENCE 
 
 0, sing me a song of six-pence 
 
 And pockets filled with rye, 
 But not of kings in opulence 
 
 When served to guilded pie. 
 
 Sing to me of humble homes 
 
 Where hearts are free from guile, 
 Where 'round the hearth a true love roams 
 
 And a smile is just a smile. 
 
 Where sympathy felt in the heart 
 
 Assuages pain of years. 
 And love in courtship has a part 
 
 And tears are honest tears. 
 i 
 [I love the humble, homely theme 
 
 Of small things and their worth, 
 Of simple joys that gently teem 
 
 With simple homespun mirth. 
 
 The clasp of hands that honest work 
 
 Has browned with weary toil. 
 Brings pleasant thrills that always shirk 
 
 To thrill the hands of spoil. 
 
 0, not of guilded palaces 
 
 I would that you would sing, 
 But of humble homes with trellises, 
 
 Where honey suckle cling. 
 
16 
 
 RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 For song's of lowly six-pence 
 And pockets filled v/ith rye, 
 
 Are sweeter far than opulence 
 When served to g'uilded pie. 
 
KHYMES— Wyatt 17 
 
 WHAT'S THE USE OF WISHING ? 
 
 At times I git ter thinkin' 'bout the gals 
 
 With their soft skin and silkj^ fluffy curls, 
 And purty eyes that with their lips jest smile 
 
 Until my head gits giddy like and whirls, 
 And I wonder if there's any gal that lives 
 
 That could ever care a little bit for me 
 But, I've growed up so ugly that it gives 
 
 The shivers ter a gal for just ter see 
 An ugly, awkward, rawboned cuss like me. 
 
 I simply love ter hear the girls giggle 
 
 And cuttin' up and laughin' with each other. 
 Jest like kittens play around and wiggle 
 
 Onless they're with a chap, who aint their brother. 
 I'm jealous, though I haven't got no show 
 
 And sometimes feel like taking paw's old gun 
 When I see fellers with their gals and go 
 
 Out ter the barn and have my mis'ry done, 
 Caise yer jest as well be dead as have no fun. 
 
 It's mighty darned blamed funny in my case, 
 
 At night when I have milked and fed the calf 
 I oil my hair and slick my ugly face 
 
 And think of funny things ter make gals laugh, 
 But blame me, when I see them, I cain't talk. 
 
 Gee ! I wish I could, but no use wishin' 
 0, well, I guess I'll git my lines and walk 
 
 Down to the creek and try a little fishin'. 
 But gosh ! I wish— but what's the use of wishin' ? 
 

 
 ^k 
 
 .^/^ 
 
 
KHYMES— Wyatt 19 
 
 I AIN'T NO MARRYING MAN 
 
 It makes me plumb mad when I hears 
 
 Folks ax, "say Bill, why don't yer wed, 
 Yer gittin' long right smart in years 
 
 And the gray gits prominent on yer head?" 
 I don't go meddlin' with folks affairs, 
 
 That aint my style or aint my plan, 
 Jest let them harness up in pairs 
 
 As fer me, I aint no marrying man. 
 
 And I hears folks er tellin' 'round 
 
 That I'm too lazy ter sport a wife 
 And would rather loaf about their town 
 
 Or fish away my worthless life. 
 But let 'em rave, don't hurt me none, 
 
 A skillet, plate and dish and pan 
 Will take the place o' wimmen, son 
 
 And I simply aint no marrying man. 
 
 Fer instance, see this here houn' pup, 
 
 He alius shares my board and bed 
 And both us point blank won't git up 
 
 Until the sun is ripe and red, 
 Onless we're on er experdition 
 
 Then up so early me and Dan, 
 We wouldn't hev no fun in fishin' 
 
 Except I warn't no marrying man. 
 
20 RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 And it 'fects me cur'os ter be bossed, 
 
 I'd hate ter be in Duncan's shoes, 
 He's alius a gettin' double crossed 
 
 And caint do nothin' that he choose, 
 Think he could smoke his cob in bed 
 
 Like I do when I'm f eelin' blue ? 
 She'd yank his year right off his head 
 
 And so would other wimmen too. 
 
 I sometimes think my frens are sore 
 
 Caise I don't 'sume er lot of care 
 And 'nex er widder with three or four 
 
 Ter make up fer my easy share; 
 Now I aint sot agin this matin', 
 
 At times I think I'll try the plan 
 But give it up on close debatin' 
 
 As I just warn't born no marrying man. 
 
RHYMES— Wyatt 21 
 
 POOR LITTLE TEDDY BEAR 
 
 In a cubby hole beneath the stair 
 
 With a tear in his one beady eye, 
 Neglected he lie, a small teddy bear 
 
 With no one to hear his sad sigh. 
 
 The hair on his nose was bare and thin 
 
 Where sweet baby lips had been pressed 
 
 And one poor leg was hung by a pin, 
 0, he looked so very distressed. 
 
 And through a big gap, his sawdust heart 
 
 That was all leaking out on the floor. 
 Indicated it burst when he had to part 
 
 With one he had learned to adore. 
 
 Small arms were missed for many a day 
 
 And a voice would be heard never more, 
 
 Now midst a heap of rubbish he lay 
 In the dust of a cubby hole floor. 
 
 No one to wipe the tear from his eye. 
 
 No one to pity or care 
 No one to answer the broken heart sigh 
 
 Of the poor little, brown teddy bear. 
 
22 
 
 RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 REFLECTION 
 
 Beneath the drooping willow trees 
 
 Reflected in the pool below, 
 Distinct, the shadows as the breeze 
 
 Move bending branches to and fro. 
 The air was pure and strong- with light 
 
 While the shadows imaged clear and bright. 
 
 When lo! a sudden mist arose 
 
 Obscuring all the things in view. 
 And less and less each image grows 
 
 That had reflected clear and true. 
 Before the sun a mist arose 
 
 The breeze becomes a wind that blows. 
 
 Just so, when thought is pure and clear, 
 
 In the life pool of consciousness 
 We see the image without fear 
 
 That cannot know the least duress. 
 But through the mist of mortal mind 
 
 Truth's image can not be defined. 
 
RHYMES— Wyatt 23 
 
 DER SILLY SCHAP 
 
 I know a man, a friendt of mine, 
 
 Who vas a silly schap 
 Und effer dime he goes ter ped 
 
 He takes a liddle nap, 
 Den ven der mornings rolled aroundt 
 
 Und den der sun arose 
 Dis silly schap ; now vat you dinks ? 
 
 He pudts on all his clothes. 
 
 Aboudt a veek or two ago 
 
 Or schust der day before, 
 Because I dook his ofer coat 
 
 Dis sillj^ man got sore; 
 He vas der queerest schap I know 
 
 It almost makes me cry, 
 I don't know how to dake dis man 
 
 No madder how I dry. 
 
 Vy schust last night he smash miy nose 
 
 Und almost dook my life 
 Ven der only ding I effer done 
 
 Vas schust ter kiss his wife 
 It almost preaks my heart ter know 
 
 So mean und queer a schap — 
 Ven I haf let him lendt me coin 
 
 A dozen times, perhaps — 
 
 Veil vat's der use, — I've been his friendt 
 
 Der pest he effer hadt 
 But schust der same, by yimminny ! 
 
 He somedimes gets me madt. 
 
24 RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 THERE IS NO TIME TO WEEP 
 
 Dry your eyes my tearful friend, 
 
 There is no time to weep, 
 Besides who cares that thoughts attend 
 
 To drive away your sleep? 
 When sickness creeps upon the mind 
 
 The love of friends is deaf and blind. 
 
 Self pity lives a lonesome life, 
 
 It strays not from its home, 
 No sorrow of another's strife 
 
 Will step within its gloam: 
 It only talks to self of grief 
 
 'Til self has grown in its belief. 
 
 But notice how a smile will flit 
 
 Between the hours of day 
 From one brave heart to go and sit 
 
 Where happy thoughts hold sway, 
 It barters love foi* joy in lieu 
 
 Of bitter thoughts that sadden you. 
 
 Grief and joy must live apart, 
 
 A smile knows not a tear. 
 The one is true born of the heart, 
 
 The other born of fear: 
 When sorrow speaks of woes that hurt 
 
 Why not to smiles and joys revert? 
 
RHYMES— Wyatt 25 
 
 HOW SWEET ARE YOU? 
 
 Sv/eet is the maid, when sweet six-teen 
 
 With the tint in her cheeks of a rosebud's sheen 
 
 With the gold of the beam in wanton play 
 Splashing her hair with its gilded spray, 
 
 While soft lips quiver in fancied bliss 
 
 With the lover's thrill of a soul felt kiss. 
 
 But sweeter still than sweet six-teen 
 
 Of the mystic maid of youthful mein, 
 Is the ripened flower of thirty-two, 
 
 For as one six-teen is sweet 'tis true 
 That two six-teens are doubly fair 
 
 As twice the sweet lies in a pair. 
 
 And as the days leap into years 
 
 Fed with smiles and bathed in tears, 
 The sweet of a maid as the sweet of a flower 
 
 Grows fragrant more with the v/aning hour, 
 As the hint of a sv\^eet or the trace of perfume 
 
 Possesses charms not in full bloom. 
 
 Even as petals fall from the rose 
 
 The scent of its breath more subtile grows, 
 
 As tresses streak with silvery gray 
 
 The sweetness of years is stored away, 
 
 Sweet six-teen is sweet 'tis true 
 
 But grows with time; how sv/eet are you? 
 
26 RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 TODAYS BUT YESTERDAYS 
 
 A seared leaf loosed its withered lips 
 
 From mother tree whose breasts were dry 
 
 And with manj^ a flit and downward dips 
 Fell to dank earth there to die. 
 
 A day fell from my tree of life, 
 
 Whose growth new realms of time must find 
 And quietly dropped from teeming strife 
 
 Into the silence left behind. 
 
 But lo! upon that limb when seen 
 
 E're many days had twinkled by, 
 I marveled that the leaf now green 
 
 Waved at the bluebirds singing nigh. 
 
 While from the tree of life the flower, 
 
 That bloomed in thought of days of yore. 
 
 Glowed brightly in the present hour 
 
 And then I marveled more and more. 
 
 In ceaseless glide, do present days 
 
 Press in tomorrow's share of time 
 Or are we living yesterdays 
 
 Refreshed with God's process, sublime? 
 
RHYMES— Wyatt 27 
 
 LIS'EN HONEY 
 
 Lis'en honey, doan yo' membah, what yo' tole me las' 
 
 Decembah 
 When de wind was jest er howlin' and the groun' was 
 
 white wid snow 
 
 Yo' said Sambo, wait 'til spring, when de lark am on de wing. 
 
 Wait 'til wintah's quit its growlin' and de soft souf wind 
 
 do blow. 
 
 Den yo' voice soun' lak de strummin' 
 
 Ob mah banjo when its hummin' 
 Tunes from heaben dat de angels sen', 
 While from yo' lips red lak de cherry 
 Came de words, "den us'll mary 
 
 In de spring wid de robbin and de wren." 
 
 Lis'en honey! heah dat singin' 
 
 Ob dat lark dat sits dar swingin' 
 Swayin' on a bough in de breeze. 
 See dat perky, saucy robbin 
 
 Dat from limb to limb am bobbin' 
 
 Huntin' fo' a homesite in de trees. 
 Feel dat soft wind from de souf 
 
 Kiss yo' on de hair an' mouf. 
 It am time dat we was matin' wid de res'. 
 Sprig am heah, de calves am sheddin' 
 Doan yo' see mah ahms outspreadin' 
 
 Jest to fold yo' clos agin mah breas'? 
 
28 
 
 RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 Down upon de smilin' riber, 
 
 Whar at night de moonbeams quiber, 
 I's a cabin dar beneath er 'simmon tree, 
 It am peepin' froo de vines 
 And all de time it pines 
 
 Fo' de day when yo' is comin' home wid me. 
 
RHYMES— Wyatt 29 
 
 THE SONG OF CHRISTMAS BELLS 
 
 I sit in the purple gloaming of the dusk of Christmas eve 
 And listen to the toning of the bells that seem to leave 
 
 A strain of joy and sorrow in their wake of silvery peal 
 Bring tidings of the morrow with their notes of woe and 
 weal. 
 
 And from my darkened room I can see the dazzling glare 
 As street lamps pierce the gloom and passing faces 
 there, 
 
 And in whim of fancy's mind as a stately man goes by 
 I steal along behind as the man does homeward hie. 
 
 0, the loving hugs and pats as his children run to meet 
 
 And his wife takes coat and hat with a loving kiss to 
 greet 
 I And the mistletoe and holly and the flowers and evergreen 
 I With the rippling laughs so jolly, filled the room with 
 
 joyous sheen. 
 I 
 
 ( 'Tis but the instant's fancy and the Christmas bells still ring, 
 ] Then my mind reverts again to the arc lights circling 
 
 \ fling 
 
 ' Of lights that pierce the shadows and draws from murky 
 night 
 The figure of a woman, wan and haggard in the light. 
 
30 RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 With feelings dread and dire I follow to her home, 
 
 But at times she seems to tire as she stumbles through 
 the gloam, 
 Tho' at last we reach her quarters, in the garret 'neath the 
 eaves, 
 With the broken panes and piaster and the holes filled 
 up with leaves. 
 
 On a pallet lies a cripple, worn and wasted with disease. 
 In the moonlights silver stipple is a child on bended 
 knees. 
 And I hear their flaccid voices blending in beseeching prayer 
 While the mother passes out to weep alone upon the 
 stair. 
 
 From this scene I quickly turn to forget its pain and grief; 
 But the painful scene still burns through my mind in' 
 sharp relief, 
 When kneeling 'gainst the churchsteps where the ivy's 
 clinging dead 
 I seem to see a figure with a halo 'bove His head. 
 
 And through the doors inside, throng a happy joyous crowd,' 
 In their eyes are looks of pride, on their lips are words 
 of God, 
 But they do not see the figure, kneeling there with head 
 bowed low 
 As the halo 'bout His brow is not as bright as gowns 
 that glow. 
 
RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 31 
 
 'Tis but the fancy's story told in song of Christmas bell 
 
 But there's sadness with the glory that the rays of 
 cheer can't quell 
 As I hear it in the peals of the bells across the snow 
 
 There's a sob bound in their sweetness as they're ring- 
 ing soft and low. 
 
32 
 
 RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 A SISTER 
 
 I loved her but her pretty eyes 
 
 That looked me through with out a sign, 
 Said O, so plain that never sighs 
 
 Were in her heart to answers mine, 
 I did not ask to know her heart, 
 
 When eyes speak not of love's sweet gain 
 How could I bear to see the part 
 
 Of her dear lips in speaking pain ? 
 
 I checked the torrent of the word 
 
 That clammered for my love's appeal, 
 
 The answer to my heart was heard 
 
 Not through my ears but what I feel ; 
 
 What use is there of added pain 
 
 When eyes speak not I love you too, 
 
 And listen to that sad refrain, 
 
 I'll be a sister dear, to you. 
 
RHYMES— Wyatt 33 
 
 THE MATING CALL 
 
 It is all quite well to weave a spell 
 
 Of momentary bliss, 
 'Bout twig and vine and bees that pine 
 
 For rose buds honeyed kiss, 
 Yet after all, sweet nature's charms 
 
 But helps the hour that slips. 
 We'd give it all for woman's arms 
 
 And pressure of her lips. 
 
 The dance of rill, the song birds' trill 
 
 The lowing of the kine, 
 The gibbous moon, the winds that croon 
 
 And rock the baby pine. 
 All start the pulse in gladsome throb 
 And lights the inward eye 
 j But what is that to hearts that sob 
 ' For answering lover's sigh? 
 
 'l The man who lives and never gives 
 I His dulcet ear to song, 
 
 1 That glad things pour the world o'er 
 Does merely shift along. 
 But who alone, must hear each tone 
 And hears no mating call, 
 ! How sad of him, God pity him! 
 I He's never lived at all. 
 
34 RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 WHAT I LEARNED AT SCHOOL 
 
 I hear my son oft' times complain 
 
 That schools are detrimental 
 And that his efforts wrought in pain 
 
 Are far from consequental, 
 'Tis then my mind to youth recurs 
 
 When I attended district school, 
 Of which sweet memory never blurs 
 
 But kindles fresh with pleasant fuel. 
 
 The hedge bound lane through which I walked 
 
 O'er grown with grass and daisy lined, 
 Taught me the notes of birds I mocked 
 
 And knowledge of the flowers defined. 
 While sometimes through unbrageous fields 
 
 I traversed on my way to school 
 I paused knee deep in bluebell yields 
 
 To peer within a placid pool. 
 
 And often times as I've confessed, 
 
 I sneaked from home my hook and line 
 To answer sunny hour's behest, — 
 
 The school could do without me, fine, 
 Ensconced in some sequestered nook I 
 
 That bordered where the waters sped, ( 
 
 I did not study from a book 
 
 But studied fishing lines instead. 
 
RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 35 
 
 0, I learned a lot in my school day 
 
 The back hand stroke and sailor style, 
 Just how to dive the bull-frog way, 
 
 To tread a bit, then float a v/hile, 
 But I don't tell my boy the sum 
 
 Of what I learned at district school, 
 Alas ! I say I took the plum 
 
 For being studious to the rule. 
 

 
 
 WHAT I LEARNED AT SCHOOL 
 
RHYMES— Wyatt 37 
 
 HOOK WORM 
 
 Oh! rm not lazy, not at all 
 
 Among the daisies I jest fall 
 To rest my weary frame; 
 
 Jest a feelin' o'er me a stealin' 
 
 Has lately came, — 
 No — Fm not workin', kinder shirkin' — 
 
 Aint that a shame? 
 
 No-o I don't suffer, 'taint like that 
 
 Jest feel tougher lying flat, 
 
 Don't feel like movin' 
 Don't worry 'bout, cause I laid out 
 
 As I'm improvin'. 
 Jest let me lay, where breezes play 
 
 xA.s they're so soothin'. 
 
 Caint do much talkin', thoughts o' walkin' 
 
 Jest make me shiver, 
 No, I aint blue, 'tween me and you 
 
 Guess it's my liver. 
 But I'm alright, my mind is bright 
 Jest move my head, — there! that's alright 
 Now I can lie right here 'til night 
 
 And listen to the river. 
 
38 RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 TO BE AT PEACE 
 
 Give vision to my eye to see tiie path 
 
 That leads to reahiis of sweet and quiet peace, 
 
 And all the glory that Dame Fortune hath 
 Could not induce my weary feet to cease 
 
 Their dogged tread with tireless energy 
 Along the path if it could I but see. 
 
 Tortuous though the way, and broken by. 
 
 The rocks of toil, by Virtue's hands bestrewn 
 
 That sluggards with unwonted ease who try 
 
 Will find that they have sought the path too soon, 
 
 And yet I will attend, though trials increase 
 If but I know the path that leads to peace. 
 
 Ah ! to be at peace, to thyself be true, 
 
 Transfixed with quiet strength, in calm accord 
 
 With elements that build to filter through 
 To drive away the self debasing horde, 
 
 To be thy soul's own man unmoved by cries 
 Of red lipped siren sin that sings but lies. 
 
RHYMES— Wyatt 39 
 
 I KNOW EVERYTHING 
 
 I know a pudgy, wudgy nose 
 
 And two big dancing eyes, 
 Within their depths nobody knov/s 
 
 'Cept me what mischief lies. 
 
 I know a smiley pair of lips 
 
 And touseled, wouseled hair, 
 A little dimpled hand that slips 
 
 In mine to nestle there. 
 
 I know some fatty, patty cheeks 
 
 That hold the pinkest rose. 
 And when undressed for bed, there peeks 
 
 The same tint in her toes. 
 
 I know a little bear behind 
 
 But I'm not scared a bit. 
 It doesn't even seem to mind 
 
 When I have paddled it. 
 
 I know I'm happy as I can be 
 
 When I feel arms that cling. 
 And then it almost 'pears to me 
 
 That I know everything. 
 
40 RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 MAMMY'S LULLABY 
 
 Close does eyes, kinky head 
 
 Go ter sleep on mubber's breas' 
 Yo' sweet lids am jest lak lead 
 
 Shet 'm tight in peaceful res'. 
 
 Yo' caint neber smile no more 
 
 'Til yo's hab er pleasant dream, 
 Des yo' go ter dreamland shore 
 
 Whal I finish dis yere seam. 
 
 One eye's open little sinnah 
 
 Des yo' close dat peep-o-day, 
 Yo' am drowsy sence yo' dinnah 
 
 Mischief, des yo' dream away. 
 
 Mubber loves to feel de thrill 
 
 Ob her precious 'gin her breas', 
 Now des lay dar pidgeon 'til 
 
 Yo' has hab yo' dream and res'. 
 
 Bless his heart, de lamb's asleep 
 
 Cuddled on his mudder's ahm, 
 Please 0, Lord, ah prays ter keep 
 
 Mah baby alius safe from hahm. 
 
KHYMES— V/yatt 41 
 
 HI, THERE! 
 
 Hi, There! pretty butter-cup 
 
 I will stoop to pick you up 
 You will be so close to me 
 
 I can better speak to thee, 
 Yesterday, I passed you by. 
 
 You did not even catch my eye 
 But then she had not answered yes 
 
 While now I'm filled with happiness. 
 Hi, There ! pert and saucy jay. 
 
 How are you this lovely day? 
 No, I did not speak to you 
 
 Yesterday — I was so blue. 
 Hi, There! pretty turtle dove, 
 
 I know something too 'bout love 
 Coo away with your sweet mate 
 
 You must know 'bout love and fate. 
 Hi, There! daisy, come with me 
 
 We will make a jolly three. 
 Butter-cup and thee and I 
 
 All have twinkles in our eye 
 And just think but yesterday 
 
 I passed you in my sullen way. 
 Now I give thee just one guess 
 
 Do you think she answered yes? 
 
42 RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 Hi, There ! stately poplar trees 
 
 Waving silver in the breeze, 
 Hi, There ! smiling sky so blue 
 
 I can smile the same as you, 
 Hi, There ! breeze a floating 'round 
 
 With the fragrance you have found, 
 Hi, There! air, I breathe so rare. 
 
 Hi, There! everything, hi! there. 
 
 TO THYSELF BE TRUE 
 
 If thee to thyself would be true 
 
 The outward fling that comes to sue 
 
 Thee for thy peaceful state of mind 
 
 Would turn to praise and trail behind. 
 
 THE CROSS 
 
 People who think that this life was intended 
 To transmit sorrow and joy equally blended 
 
 That with their blessings, hoped a goodly share 
 The Lord imposed suflfering, a cross to bear, 
 
 Hold poor opinions indeed of the Lord, 
 
 Who long ago deemed that His special accord. 
 
RHYMES— Wyatt 43 
 
 TIME DOES NOT CHANGE 
 
 Time does not change but oft' recurs 
 
 The eye of Nature dims but never blurs, 
 
 Time does not change, only man 
 
 Struggles and frets an instant's span. 
 
 WHO PLEASES US 
 
 O, little bird that sings 
 
 So sweetly from the leafy swings 
 Moved by gentle breezes, 
 
 Thee do not know how well thee please us; 
 Thee sings because of inner bliss 
 
 Unmindful of thy notes that kiss 
 Our ears with tones divine. 
 
 And as thee sings from twig and vine 
 While swaying in the breezes 
 
 It must be God, who tries to please us. 
 
 HE WHO IS GREAT 
 
 He who is great is oft' unsung 
 
 And moves obscurely on his way, 
 Unheralded by a noisy tongue 
 
 That causes vulgar minds to sway. 
 But yet each day he toes the line 
 
 And head to head with silent foe 
 He battles bravely 'til supine 
 
 The enemy is stricken low. 
 
44 RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 NO APOLOGY 
 
 No man need apologize for living 
 
 Whose mind is free to keep the heart forgiving 
 To the source unknown, which gives a wholesome share 
 
 To some, while others grow upon a soil so bare 
 That God smiles on the chap for just believing. 
 
RHYMES— Wyatt 45 
 
 THE FISHERMEN 
 
 Peter, Nathaneal and Thomas and the sons of Zebedee, 
 
 Many, many years ago 
 
 As the bible tells us so. 
 
 At even-tide as chill winds blow 
 Went fishing on the Galilee. 
 
 Hour after hour they toiled with their net 
 
 'Til the black waves lie 
 
 'Gainst a frowning sky, 
 
 While star after star went out on high 
 And the night grew black as jet. 
 
 Not a fish these weary fishermen caught. 
 
 And their hopes sank low 
 
 As over the bow 
 
 Rose the dripping net, then sank below 
 With their efforts all for naught. 
 
 At length the bleak night changed to dawn 
 
 And there on the land. 
 
 This hopeless band 
 
 Saw a watching figure, point His hand 
 Abaft, where the net should then be drawn. 
 
 Men are still fishing on life's Galilee 
 For all that is real 
 That will comfort and heal, 
 Which on the dav/n the Christ will reveal 
 
 As to Peter, Nathaneal and Thomas and the sons of Zebedee. 
 
46 
 
 RHYMES— Wyatt 
 
 And though black is the night and stormy the sea, 
 
 The net must be cast 
 
 'Til all hopes have passed 
 
 And then in the dawn will we see Him at last 
 On the shore of life's Galilee. 
 
 m^ 
 
Gem Publishing Co., Los Angele