Author. Title. Imprint la— 30299-1 OPO HfK'' Oregon at iHalabon I Ij AND OTHER POEMS ^ d BY LIONEL A. JOHNSON I gi s i #itgon at jHalabon | i AND OTHER POEMS I g BY LIONEL A. JOHNSON ig j{ [H KKXKMMKMMKMKMMMKMMMKKMKKMMKMMMSCMKMM K PORTLAND, OREGON, DECEMBER, 1905 » FWBALTES k COMPANY TO MY COMRADES OF THE SECOND OREGON VOLUNTEERS THIS LITTLE BOOK I RESPECTFULLY DEDICATE — L. A.J. Volunteers from Oregon' OREGON AT MALABON O'er verdant hills and valleys of Luzon A peaceful night had settled, and the stars Made glorious a clear, but moonless sky. The lights of old Manila one by one Appeared as night came on, and fireflies By thousands flitted in the foliage And made the bamboo and the mango woods Seem like some endless groves of Christmas trees. It was an ev'ning such as oft' delight The lovers who go forth to be alone With nature and themselves. But although there Were all the charms of ev'ning far and near, On every hand. Love stayed at home, while War In solemn majesty alone held sway. About Manila, north and east and south, A long, long line of fires marked the camps Of soldiers who held trenches to defend The place against the Filipino foe ; While to the west great war ships floated on The tranquil waters of Manila Bay. The colored, changing signals on their masts And restless searchlights gave strange grandeur to The lovely scene. And northward, near at hand. The roofs of still another city rose, A quaint old city known as Malabon, Where lights gleamed from a thousand nipa huts; While near the Taliahan river, which Ran silently between the city and The rice field on the south, were well-armed troops Of small brown men entrenched in two long lines. And swarming through the streets of Malabon Were also hoards of Filipino men, There to prevent, if possible, with force The strange Americans from marching north To old Malolos, where their rebel seat Of government was guarded night and day. This peaceful ev'ning was much like the calm That oft' precedes the coming of a storm; For on the morrow, so it had been planned, Our military force should make advance Upon the outward guards of Malabon. And it was evident that trouble then Was near at hand, for by the pale starlight One could have seen, though shadowy and dim. Large companies of men move silently About behind the trenches of our lines. Here in the trench in front of Malabon There long had been the Kansas Volunteers, But under cover of the night they moved A short way eastward, while the regiment From Oregon in silence took their place To aid them in the conflict near at hand. Then orders were passed down the line that all Should go to rest, attired not for night As each one would at home have been, but clad And armed for action, all to lie in line Upon the hard dirt bottom of the trench. As slowly hours passed the great moon rose And cast its light far o'er the tropic world. The only sounds that echoed now and then Upon the quiet air of night were those Made by the reveling of men within The Filipino lines. Then, too, at times Their bugles would break forth with some sweet call That sounded as a plaintive wail which cast An atmosphere of gloom far o'er the land. Our soldiers lay throughout the night beside Their guns and dreamed of home, or wakefuUy Lay thinking of the morrow's dreadful work. All knew that some must die before the last Rays of another sun would leave the earth. Inevitable death must sometime come, But it was sad to think that one might die Without farewell to those who far across The great Pacific waited longingly, And with anxiety for his return. These sentimental thoughts and dreams at last Came to a sudden end when with the light Of breaking day far to the right the sound Of deep-toned cannons made it known that then Important time for action was at hand. Then later as the streaks of early dawn Made visible the stretch of bamboo woods That lay beyond the gently sloping fields, The sharp, quick notes of bugles rang out clear Upon the morning air, and instantly Each man was up and with his gun in hand Stood waiting for his officers' commands. "Aim at those woods and fire rapidly," Then came the word. And as the noisy din Of Springfield guns broke out along our trench The enemy gave quick response. 'Twas then The air seemed filled with countless, death-charged balls. Which, in their unseen flight, gave forth a sound Half musical, and yet so solemn it Resembled much a mournful dirge of death. Though noisy was the action for a time It was withall quite useless, since each force Was safe behind a trench's earthen walls. At last, as if by one accord, the strife On either side came to a sudden lull. And then while stillness reigned a simple meal To all was served while yet each man remained In his allotted place within the trench. They ate and rested and at last each one Began to wait impatiently for word To indicate what action next would be. Not long had they to wait, for bugle notes Soon gave command, "Attention," sharp and clear. Then canteens, haversacks and rolls were donned, And large supplies of cartridges were placed In belts and pockets, and as then the call Of "Forward, March!" was heard, the men climbed o'er The wall of sacks upon the trench's side And formed in line of battle on the field. The Rubicon was crossed, and Oregon Was soon to know the courage of her sons. With ever-growing heat the sun shone on, The waves lapped restlessly upon the shore ; But firmly in the face of bullets moved, With silent guns, the line of Oregon. Can you in fancy stand upon that trench And watch the movements of that battle line? See how the right half of the line now breaks And swings around upon the railroad track; And in this way an angle soon is formed, So -while a portion thus in line moves on The other half in single column goes. Still on they go and though the bullets hum A concert near their ears they do not flinch. The torrid sun that glistens on their guns Has made the air oppressive with its heat. Their tongues grow thick and parched with thirst, and some Unable to withstand the awful strain Fall with the wounded on the burning field. Note how with quickened, steady pace they go. And load and fire as they hurry on. While other troops are now engaged Far to the right, the line of Oregon Takes form to close in strength on Malabon. 8 And now above the thunder of the guns And cannons can be heard the bugle sound. "Charge, charge!" it calls. The line breaks to a run. With gleaming bayonets they madly chase Across the field, and with triumphant shouts They drive the foe from out the first long trench. At last o'ercome with heat they pause and rest Beneath the meagre shade of bamboo trees, While still the bullets from a further trench, Like hail, are ever dropping thick and fast. By turn they fire on the noisy foe. And then by aid of hat brims fan themselves And from canteens, now almost dry, they seek Some drops of moisture for their stiffened tongues. Again the bugle gives command, and, though With dizzy, throbbing heads, they fall in line And move upon the enemy once more. Another charge and then another trench By Oregon is gained. They do not pause. But rapidly pursue the fleeing foe To where the silent Taliahan flows By Malabon into Manila Bay. Too late, alas, they reach the river's bank ; The Filipinos prearrangement made To meet, if need, conditions such as these. And e'er our men could o'er the bridges pass Explosions wrecked them irreparably. Another charge was thus impossible. So all remaining hours of the day Were spent in futile fight across the stream. At last o'er island homes and distant sea The dismal night with blinding darkness came, While still the entrenched enemy kept up An intermittent fire o'er the stream. The volunteers from Oregon at last Relieved from weary strife began each one To seek for absent friends. Though some were found Who by mischance had strayed from their commands, Some others were forever mustered out By Death, the one great officer supreme, And never more would answer to the roll. When morning dawned again, the foe had gone. And far above the tree-tops clouds arose Of thick black smoke — they'd left their homes in flames. And Oregon had triumphed in the fight. xo THE NEW YEAR When Nature first planned The beauties of land, Of sky and of each varied clime, She wisely arranged That all should be changed By unceasing process of time. Each river that glides, The clouds, and the tides Must vary with each passing day ; And all things on earth That ever had birth This infinite rule must obey. Then will the nevvr year That soon shall appear. Bring into our lives something new? Will it by the aid Of mistakes we have made Then cause us new ways to pursue? Will new scenes abound. And new friends be found? Will old ones depart from our sight, And to us appear Their memories dear*. Like stars in the gloom of the night? And, too, when at last The new year has passed. Shall we be improved by its work? Or will broken laws Of nature then cause Misfortune about us to lurk? XX How e'er this may be We cannot now see; We only can labor and wait. At work or at rest We can just live our best And follow the pathway of Fate. 12 CHARACTER Deep in the silent realms of earth Are jewels hid away. Which only patient toil can bring Into the light of day. And in each human heart are hid Some treasures, rich and rare ; Some good and useful qualities Unknown are sleeping there. Then as the years of proper life Their course of training make, These little traits of character Will from their sleep awake. New lines of pleasant duties will Before the eyes unroll, And elevating thoughts arise To beautify the soul. No speculation quickly made With fortune great in size, Nor sudden move of chance can win A character for prize. But well-spent years alone can bring This culture to the mind; Can look within the souls of men And better natures find. For by the touch of time, rough coal, Unpleasing to the sight. Is given all the lust'rous rays That make the diamond bright. 13 In history we see how men, Like climbing flowers trained. Will ever keep an upward course Until the top is gained. We see how perfect lives are built Upon the wisest plan ; How thoughts will make the character. And character, the man. Unwholesome thoughts weed from the mind And make it strong and true. And ev'ry good you give the world Will create good in you. 14 IMPRESSIONS OF EVANGELINE The stars of evening send abroad Their mild and gentle light To break the darkness overhead And glorify the night. And thus a nature, true and strong. Its radiance may cast Upon a fickle, changing world With weakness to contrast. High in the horizon of fame With brilliancy does shine A character of poetry. The fair Evangeline. Not honored for her worldly wealth, Nor for a royal birth. But for a pure and faithful heart Which makes the greatest worth. Although deprived of all most dear. Her friends and pleasant home • And as an exile forced to stray — An unknown land to roam. Misfortune's cold and cruel hand Could ne'er her purpose break. Nor from her gentle character Its strong affection take. Just as the rose of summer time, When it has ceased to bloom. Still lingers in the memory With all its sweet perfume ; 15 The beauty of her soul remains Upon the social air, And breathed into the heart it leaves Its blessed influence there. The noble deeds of warriors May paint a lovely page In that one part of history Allotted to their age, But the story of Evangeline More beautiful will grow, And leave its trace upon the years That slowly come and go. x6 A PORTLAND SUNSET (Written for the Pacific Monthly, June, 1902) Above the timbered mountain crest Are varied hues of light — The burning sun has sunk to rest And day blends into night. Through ev'ning shades appear the green Of lawns and distant wood, And by the fading light are seen The snow banks of Mt. Hood. Along Willamette, gliding by. Are brilliant lights agleam. And rainbow tints of sunset sky Are mirrored on its stream. An echo of the busy day About the streets is heard. While forest branches slowly sway, By evening zephyrs stirred. In peacefulness the day departs With slow majestic grace, And to the earth and sky imparts Its farewell rosy trace. If just like this sweet ev'ning time Could we but end earth's strife. And make our closing years sublime — The sunset days of life. 17 THOSE OLD COLLEGE DAYS While watching tonight The stars clear and bright Shine out from the far-away sky, My thoughts take the wings That memory brings And back to my school days they fly. The school on the hill, The river so still. The landscape of fields fresh and green ; The quiet old town, The autumn woods brown Are now in sweet reverie seen. And then there are, too, The friends that I knew — The teachers and gay student throng — Tonight o'er the land. Like wind-scattered sand. They in other places belong. Though scenes new and strange May come with time's change. And far may I drift on life's sea, That old college time In vision sublime Will ever bring pleasure to me. i8 NEWSPAPER MEN Life a rapid speed is taking, Like a ship with sails unfurled, And newspaper men are making Records of the busy world. Noting ev'ry good and error, Intermittent joy and strife, For Humanity they mirror All the smiles and tears of life. As the nerves convey sensations Of each touch and gentle thrill. So do writers of all nations Make the world throb as they will. New impulses they are breeding And improvements they have wrought, For a million minds in reading Daily vibrate with their thought. And though fairy Fate may never Lead them all to heights sublime, Yet, we know, their work will ever Decorate the paths of time. 19