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FALLEN LEAVES 
 
FALLEN LEAVES 
 
 ^«3 
 
 BY 
 
 ROGER CONANT HATCH 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 THE FOUR SEAS COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
Copyright, IQ22, by 
 The Four Seas Company 
 
 
 The Four Seas Press 
 Boston, Mass., U. S. A, 
 
 m-7'23 
 
 C1A704079 
 
TO MY BOYS 
 
 THE PUPILS OF TWENTY YEARS 
 
 THIS LITTLE BOOK OF HALTING VERSES IS LOVINGLY 
 
 DEDICATED 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 A Prayer ii 
 
 The Mind's Castle 12 
 
 To Dido 13 
 
 Vale ^stas 14 
 
 To A Sore Throat 16 
 
 The Lightship 17 
 
 She 18 
 
 Love at Sight 19 
 
 Her Kerchief 20 
 
 /Edificat 21 
 
 The Fettered Muse 22 
 
 The Night Storm 24 
 
 Home 26 
 
 The Dancer 28 
 
 "NoN Nobis Solum" 30 
 
 "Retired" 32 
 
 The Newsboys' Song 33 
 
 The Choosing of the Colors 35 
 
 Alma Mater 36 
 
 A Prayer 37 
 
 Gloria Mundi 38 
 
 True American " • • 39 
 
 Movie Mania 40 
 
 Vale Atque Ave! 42 
 
 Valedictory 43 
 
 On the Prow 44 
 
 A Parable 45 
 
 The May-flower 46 
 
FOR FRIENDLY EYES 
 
 AND 
 
 IN MEMORY OF HER 
 
 WHO 
 
 THROUGH ALL MY IMPERFECTIONS 
 
 SAW ONLY THE BEST IN ME 
 
FALLEN LEAVES 
 
A PRAYER 
 (Written on my Twenty-first Birthday) 
 
 Dear Father, who with guidance firm 
 My childish footsteps stayed, 
 
 Who fed my youth's unfolding mind, 
 Now give my manhood aid. 
 
 Those years are past, and by man's law 
 
 In man's estate I stand; 
 Help me to use man's highest strength. 
 
 To lend the weak a hand. 
 
 Give unto others worldly fame, 
 
 Me an unselfish heart, 
 Strong to sustain, tender to love. 
 
 Give me the Christ-like part. 
 
 Help me to do the things I should, 
 Free from Temptation's ban; 
 
 Help me to be God's noblest work. 
 An honest Christian man. 
 
 Amen. 
 
 [II] 
 
THE MIND'S CASTLE 
 
 (A reflection of bachelor days) 
 
 When chill and bleak the winds of March 
 
 Hiss through the sleet around the pane, 
 
 And ghostly creakings of the frost 
 
 Snap in the clapboard's withered grain, 
 
 Before my fire I sit and dream, — 
 
 No sleek old cat, half gorged with cream. 
 
 Is half so calm. 
 
 My cushions all are plump and soft. 
 
 My fragrant pipe exhales its smoke, 
 
 My books are by my side; 
 
 No need have I for play or thrill. 
 
 What cares such mind for wind or chill. 
 
 So snug and warm? 
 
 The world may sigh for wealth or fun. 
 
 My spirits warm me like the sun, 
 
 I dream my dreams, and poke the fire, 
 
 And smile at all their fuss and ire: 
 
 My mind its own best castle is, — 
 
 I envy Croesus none of his. 
 
 [12] 
 
TO DIDO 
 
 (The white, woolly little house-companion 
 of eleven years) 
 
 sweet exponent of the canine race, 
 What mischief's in thy touseled face 
 And pattering paws ! 
 
 How can'&t thou now so sleepy seem 
 As if enwrapped in some bright dream 
 From heavenly shores, 
 When I know well that when Tm gone, 
 All shoes and garments will be torn. 
 Not hid by doors. 
 
 Thy silky coat and soft brown eyes. 
 
 That 'neath the lids peep out like spies, 
 
 Deceive us all; 
 
 For thou can'st steal when none's aware, 
 
 But meek as lamb to shepherd's care 
 
 Dost come at call; 
 
 Or slink from kitchen door away, 
 
 Beneath the dark old couch to stay, 
 
 Out in the hall. 
 
 1 love thee, pup, despite each trick ; 
 No grievance in thy mind doth stick 
 Of scourge or rod; 
 
 And when you're gone, your rose-leaf kiss 
 How sadly then we'll each one miss, 
 Beneath the sod; 
 
 I doubt not then, companion dear, 
 Thou'lt find in heaven a welcome cheer 
 From canine god. 
 
 [13] 
 
VALE ^STAS 
 (Written on a cold, grey November afternoon) 
 
 The long bright summer's past and gone. 
 
 And soon come winter snows; 
 
 Hang up vacation's garments torn, 
 
 And don dull city's clothes; 
 
 Upon a garret hook must hang 
 
 The old tarpaulin suit; 
 
 No more of salt wind's healthful tang, 
 
 No more his piping flute; 
 
 Within their worn and bulging bag 
 
 The golf clubs lithe repose. 
 
 And hang their heads with mournful sag, 
 
 Like autumn's withered rose; 
 
 In darkened corner lies the net. 
 
 The stakes, the ball, the bat, 
 
 In memory lingers game and set, — 
 
 The long sigh breathes for that; 
 
 Ah, well-a-day, what need recount 
 
 That garret's winter store. 
 
 To muse, while drifting snows may mount. 
 
 That summer is no more ; 
 
 Back, back we go, to rod and rule, 
 
 To desk, to school, to store, 
 
 To teach, direct, to wield the tool. 
 
 To earn a Httle more; 
 
 Those summer days can't last, forsooth. 
 
 One can't enjoy himself 
 
 In idle days, unless — in truth — 
 
 Unless he has the pelf ; 
 
 [14] 
 
So while old Boreas beats the waves, 
 
 And Frost Kings freeze the lakes, 
 
 In city marts the toiler saves 
 
 The weekly wage he takes; 
 
 But when the mild and lovely Spring 
 
 Has clad the land in green. 
 
 When Summer's warmth pervades each thing, 
 
 And lakes and seas serene, 
 
 Then gathering all our cash in hand, 
 
 We leave the city's rush, 
 
 To seek Vacation's happy land, 
 
 To woo its restful hush; 
 
 Then young and old come forth to play. 
 
 The garret's store comes out. 
 
 And land and sea the livelong day 
 
 With merry echoes shout; 
 
 So back to work, my girls and boys, 
 
 To earn the needful goods. 
 
 Then be on hand for Summer's joys, 
 
 'Mid country, sea, and woods. 
 
 [IS] 
 
TO A SORE THROAT 
 
 Thou measely, lumpy, tender thing, 
 
 What sorrows to my life you bring ! 
 
 From waking morn till sleepy eve, 
 
 You show no signs of taking leave, 
 
 Despotic king! 
 
 Nor is your rule confined to day : 
 
 To subjugate me to your sway, 
 
 And bring me humbly to my knees. 
 
 At night you make me cough and wheeze. 
 
 You evil fay! 
 
 I've never seen you, I confess, 
 
 But I've imagined how you dress : 
 
 Some red-robed, large-eyed microbe, you, 
 
 Armed with a pot of sticky glue. 
 
 With pincers, barbs, and siharpened pins. 
 
 Like devils sent to punish sins, 
 
 And get their due. 
 
 [i6] 
 
THE LIGHTSHIP 
 
 One step beyond the lamp-lit cheery room 
 
 I face the black of night and windy gloom, 
 
 With bent head seek to pierce the tempest's dark, 
 
 Seek for the lightship's guiding spark, 
 
 And list the pulsing rush of surf on sand, 
 
 Dashing its ceaseless waves upon the strand. 
 
 The black of chaos pales to cloud^:ossed night, 
 Clear on my vision gleams the beacon bright. 
 Flashes, and dies away, to flash again 
 With one sharp ray across the writhing main ; 
 The distant headland rears its shapeless mass, 
 A crouching beast, await for ships that pass. 
 
 Still through the night the gleaming signal streams. 
 Ceaseless repeats its ever warning beams. 
 Constant and tireless as the surging waves 
 Or crouching headland with its rock-toothed caves; 
 Let the wild winds and rocks and billows roar. 
 Still shines that watchfire 'gainst the lurking shore. 
 
 [17] 
 
SHE 
 
 So close and warm upon my cheek 
 
 Her sweet lips press; 
 Deep in my eyes her soul doth seek 
 
 A love no less; 
 About my neck her warm soft arms, 
 
 A living scarf, 
 Draw me within her breast's sweet charm, 
 Dispelling prudisih doubts of harm 
 
 With loving laugh: 
 Who would not melt beneath this warmth divine? 
 Who would not yield his love, dear heart, to thine? 
 
 [i8] 
 
LOVE AT SIGHT 
 (The modest maiden speaks) 
 
 Would I might speak to him, 
 
 Would I might call him, 
 
 Must I sit silent and watch him go by? 
 
 May I not wave to him, 
 
 May I not signal him, 
 
 Must he pass by me with unseeing eye? 
 
 Why do I yearn for him, 
 
 As he goes by me? 
 
 Why do I sit by the window to see? 
 
 Why do I look for him, 
 
 Why do I wait for him. 
 
 Hoping 'gainst hope that each passer is he? 
 
 Yet must I wait for him, 
 
 Yet must sit silent, 
 
 May not give voice to the call of my heart: 
 
 Still must be modest, 
 
 Still be retiring, 
 
 This what the world calls a "womanly" part. 
 
 Would I might flee from the world of conventions, 
 Would that we two in an Eden might roam, 
 Then would I fly like a bird to his bower. 
 Find in his arms both a lover and home. 
 
 [19] 
 
HER KERCHIEF 
 
 Thou filmy bit of linen fine, 
 
 With border frill of cobweb lace, 
 
 I envy thee thy lot divine. 
 
 For thou hast touched my lady's face. 
 
 Insensate wisp, so fortunate. 
 Which sometime fairy fingers hold. 
 To win that right I'd change my state 
 And buy thy privilege with gold. 
 
 About thy mist-like web there cling 
 All perfumed memories, faint and rare, 
 Lovelier than all the buds of Spring, 
 The sweetness of my lady fair. 
 
 I'll press thee to my lips and brow. 
 And close my eyes in feigned bliss. 
 So, in the realm of Fancy now, 
 ril dream you are my lady's kiss. 
 
 [20; 
 
^DIFICAT 
 
 (A reaction after hearing a sermon extolling 
 "the dreamer of dreams") 
 
 Yon slender cross that gleams on high, 
 That heavenward seems to point the way, 
 It had not reached its lofty post. 
 Save for the bricks of common clay. 
 
 The spire may rise to bear on high 
 The symbols of God's coming day; 
 It had not reared its glorious sign. 
 Save for the bricks of common clay. 
 
 The builder-dreamer writes his name 
 In frieze or fresco, as he may; 
 God's building had not taken shape. 
 Save for the bricks of common clay. 
 
 The prophet and the martyr's fame, 
 Like to the cross, point Heaven's way ; 
 God's kingdom here may not be built. 
 Save for the bricks of common clay. 
 
 And He on high will not forget. 
 When priests illume the sacred ray. 
 The ark of God had not been housed. 
 Save for the bricks of comxmon clay. 
 
 [21 
 
THE FETTERED MUSE 
 
 I'd like to be a poet great, 
 Write verses and all that, 
 Vd like to feel the frenzy fine 
 And voice my passions pat ; 
 But oh! alas, I'm one of those 
 Poor common-sense bound souls, 
 Whose lack of airy sentiment 
 Fills poetry with holes. 
 
 If forth I walk in rural lanes 
 To view the sunset hues, 
 Anon to rhapsodize begin. 
 Inspired by the Muse, 
 I'm sure to have emotion's course 
 Arrested in its flight. 
 Enraptured visions quite eclipsed 
 By a mosquito bite : 
 And then, of course, I realize 
 That country lanes and fens 
 Contain, instead of poets' dreams, 
 Malarial microbes' dens. 
 
 In vain I've sought in foreign lands 
 
 The inspiration pure, 
 
 'Mid haunts of knights and barons bold, 
 
 And thought to find it sure; 
 
 Once in an old and fortressed town 
 
 I felt my spirit swell. 
 
 But just as Fancy spread her wings 
 
 [22] 
 
I choked upon a smell: 
 And then, of course, I realized. 
 No town of dreams was here, — 
 The smell at once I recognized 
 Of sewerage and beer. 
 
 And so it seems, where'er I roam. 
 
 My soul in fetters goes. 
 
 Each lover's kiss is fraught with germs. 
 
 And buggy is each rose; 
 
 I fear the poet's laureled crown 
 
 Will ne'er adorn my head; 
 
 And after all, I'd rather have 
 
 A nice new hat instead. 
 
 [23] 
 
THE NIGHT STORM 
 
 The daylight fadeth from the rosy west, 
 Grey mists of evening rise like stealthy ghosts, 
 Kind creatures seek their cots of nightly rest. 
 And whispering shadows beckon forth their hosts. 
 
 From copse and woodland creep the things of night, 
 Now^ still, now stealing on from bush to tree. 
 Crouched for the instant, scurrying as in flight, 
 Lost in the darkness where no eye may see. 
 
 The breath of marshes, chill with dreaded damp, 
 Wafts o'er the fields, the distant forest moans, 
 There on its borders flits the firefly's lamp, 
 And from its covert wails the owlet's tones. 
 
 Athwart the crescent moon the witch-clouds ride, 
 The reckless spurrers of the mounting storm; 
 The sudden flare of lightning from its side 
 Reveals the spectre of its writhing form. 
 
 And like the rush of hostile Tartar horde, 
 Across the heaven sweeps the threatening force; 
 Its rumbling thunder strikes a mighty chord. 
 Like torrent tumbling from its ancient source. 
 
 Now o'er the moon tumultuous squadrons pass. 
 Her gleaming standard sinks beneath the charge; 
 On, on they ride, a rolling night-black mass, 
 Covering the heaven to its distant marge, 
 
 [24] 
 
Again vast thunders peal, the lightnings flash, 
 The tree-tops writhe, all nature cowers low, 
 And down the wind the rain-clouds' arrows dash, 
 Like winged messengers of coming woe. 
 
 The wind rides on, the thunder rumbles past, 
 The lightning fades, but from the blackened clouds 
 The rain pours down to prostrate earth at last, 
 And misty darkness all her features shrouds. 
 
 [25] 
 
HOME 
 
 I have a cosy little home 
 
 Where I in comfort dwell, 
 
 Four pleasant rooms, not very large, 
 
 But furnished very well. 
 
 I have a tiny parlor there, 
 A bedroom fresh and sweet, 
 A dining-room for frugal meals, 
 A kitchen clean and neat. 
 
 The windows all are sunny too, 
 The muslin curtains white. 
 The walls soft green, the doors between 
 With portieres warmly bright. 
 
 Soft rugs of Oriental shades 
 Adorn the clear waxed floors, 
 And curious pictures on the walls 
 Bid each observer pause. 
 
 Great velvet armchairs welcome give 
 To sit before my fire, 
 A snug retreat, a cushioned seat, 
 Of which I never tire. 
 
 A massive desk, whose ebon plain 
 A store of books doth pile, 
 A lamp of bronze with crimson shade, 
 The evening dusk to guile. 
 
 [26] 
 
And here and there, to charm the air, 
 Quaint urns of flowers grow. 
 Midst diamond glint of crystal vase 
 And copper's ruddy glow. 
 
 When in the night the curtained lid 
 Doth seek to veil mine eye. 
 The damask couch invites repose. 
 Its bosomed rest is nigh. 
 
 Here can I find a safe retreat. 
 Such dear luxurious ease. 
 Where every modest taste is fed. 
 And every art doth please. 
 
 Now can you guess where is this home. 
 In which I find all that? 
 'Tis no Utopian bower, my dear, 
 But just a city flat. 
 
 [27] 
 
THE DANCER 
 
 Hail to thee, bright creature, 
 
 More than mortal birth, 
 
 That like the spirit aerial 
 
 Hoverest o'er the earth, 
 
 How may I express thy matchless grace and worth ! 
 
 Sure no mortal bore thee, 
 Not of earth thou'st come, 
 Terpsichore thy mother, 
 Pierian bowers thy home, 
 
 Where the nymphs and dryads in sacred woodlands 
 roam. 
 
 Not of our gross nature, 
 
 But of fire and air, 
 
 Bom to music of the spheres. 
 
 Free from earthly care. 
 
 Sprite of realms celestial, kin to all that's fair. 
 
 Like the wild-rose nodding 
 
 In the bright June sun. 
 
 When o'er vernal meadows 
 
 Zephyrs lightly run. 
 
 Playing with the flowerets, thou the fairest one. 
 
 Like the bee of summer. 
 
 Hovering o'er the lea, 
 
 Lightly poised, then darting, 
 
 A golden flash to see, 
 
 Where the honeyed bluebells lift their cups to thee. 
 
 [28] 
 
Like a waving tendril 
 
 Of the mantling vine, 
 
 Floating like caresses 
 
 Round yon oak to twine, 
 
 Clinging ever closer, with embrace divine. 
 
 Like a floating atom 
 
 In the sun's bright ray, 
 
 Shining there refulgent. 
 
 Like the star of day 
 
 Gleaming from the lucence of the Milky Way. 
 
 Like a tongue of fire 
 
 Dancing here and there. 
 
 Flickering o'er the embers. 
 
 Glancing everywhere. 
 
 Vanishing in darkness, like a sprite in air. 
 
 Would that thou could'st teach me 
 
 Such delights to know. 
 
 Stir my earth-bom nature 
 
 Crawling dull and slow. 
 
 Till it blaze all fiery from thy heavenly glow. 
 
 Then I*d join thy rapture, 
 
 Blend my soul with thee. 
 
 Move to music's measures. 
 
 Unrestrained and free, 
 
 Conscious inspiration, embodied harmony. 
 
 [29] 
 
"NON NOBIS SOLUM'' 
 
 (A school song taken from the motto, "Non nobis 
 solum sed patriae et amicis") 
 
 THE MIND 
 
 Wise mother school, thy lofty halls 
 Send forth to mind their trumpet calls, 
 To youth thy training stern doth come, 
 Knowledge within thy walls finds home ; 
 Yet lest self-love should rule the mind. 
 Above thy portals wide and kind 
 This golden motto e'er shall stand, 
 "Not for ourselves alone, but for — 
 Our friends and native land." 
 
 THE BODY 
 
 Strong mother school, within thy care 
 Our bodies wax in strength to dare 
 All feats of brawn in gladsome play, 
 Gain a new hardihood each day ; 
 Yet lest false-pride in strength should rule, 
 Thou teachest strength its pride to school, 
 Making this motto first to stand, 
 "Not for ourselves alone, but for — 
 Our friends and native land." 
 
 THE HEART 
 
 Dear mother school, within thy love 
 Our hearts learn comradeship to prove; 
 Joined in the bonds of work and play, 
 
 [30] 
 
Each comrade learns his brother's way; 
 
 Yet lest our love forget to grow, 
 
 Lest even friendship's flights be low, 
 
 This motto o'er our hearts shall stand, 
 
 "Not for ourselves alone, but for — \ 
 
 Our friends and native land." 
 
 [31 
 
"RETIRED" 
 
 (Lines written on the involuntary retirement of a 
 faithful teacher at the age of seventy) 
 
 I thought to win by labors long and true 
 A place of honor and a worthy name, 
 The meed to faith and truth and service due, 
 A niche within the eternal halls of Fame; 
 Nor did I turn to gods and doctrines strange, 
 Nor strove to climb the bare and rocky peaks, 
 Far from the haunts of men, in lofty range. 
 The barren pinnacles the adventurer seeks: 
 
 Yet now I find my labors all in vain, 
 
 My strength has failed, the throng has passed me by. 
 
 Still doomed to live, to yearn, to suffer pain. 
 
 Too weak to strive, alas, too strong to die! 
 
 Yet when these limbs are laid beneath the sod, 
 
 I know my soul will scale the heights to God. 
 
 [32] 
 
THE NEWSBOYS' SONG 
 
 We are the jolly newsboys, 
 
 All full of business we, 
 
 No matter what the weather, 
 
 We're on the job, you see; 
 
 You'll hear our cry of "Poipers!" 
 
 From dawn till late at night, 
 
 'Cause we're out to get the business, 
 
 And you bet we'll get it right. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Extry! Extry! the latest news we shout; 
 
 Poipers ! Poipers ! the last edition's out ; 
 
 There's forty-'leven moiders. 
 
 The Cards have beat the Cubs, 
 
 An airship smash, big Wall Street crash, 
 
 The latest social snubs! 
 
 Extry! Extry! the Post, an' Times, an' Star! 
 
 Poipers ! Last edition ! Yes, sir, here you are ! 
 
 Our hands may be some dirty. 
 Our clothes are patched and torn^ 
 Our stockings may be holey, 
 Our shoes are getting worn ; 
 This job ain't very dainty. 
 An' maybe we're a sight. 
 But we're out to get the business. 
 And you bet we'll get it right. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 There's some folks calls us muckers, 
 A nuisance round the town, 
 [33] 
 
But we're the coming merchants, 
 They sure can't keep us down; 
 We're looking for the pennies, 
 And we've got success in sight, 
 'Cause we're out to get the business, 
 And you bet we'll get it right. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 [34] 
 
THE CHOOSING OF THE COLORS 
 
 (Written upon the union of two old schools and their 
 choice of the colors for their new emblem) 
 
 When God omnipotent conceived our earth 
 And out of Chaos formed the whiriing spheres, 
 As king of all, He set the Sun in Heaven 
 To shed its radiance through the future years. 
 
 All fair and glorious sprang its dazzling rays 
 To search and gladden with their living light, 
 Nor red, nor gold, half shade, nor blended hue, 
 But pure and flashing in their perfect wihite. 
 
 Then, when His eye beheld our naked world, 
 
 All scarred and black from her titanic birth. 
 
 With gentle hands He clothed her mighty form 
 
 In garments green, and called her "Mother Earth." 
 
 So we today have chosen Nature's garb 
 
 To be our colors both in peace and fight, 
 
 The soft sweet green that clothes our Mother Earth, 
 
 The flas'hing glory of the Sun's pure white. 
 
 Long may our banner bear their plighted radiance, 
 Long may we live united now as one, 
 Happy in Earth's unending fragrant greenness, 
 Pure white in brightness as the godlike Sun ! 
 
 [35] 
 
ALMA MATER 
 
 (Lines written upon the decision of the ''Board of 
 
 Trustees" to discontinue a school which had served 
 
 its community successfully for sixty-four years) 
 
 Dead! Art thou dead! Thou hast not lived in vain, 
 
 Nor parted hence thy service unfulfilled; 
 
 And all the heartache, all the filial pain 
 
 Which higher powers to us, thy sons, have willed, 
 
 Can not efface our pride in thy high past, 
 
 Nor rob the world of that which thou hast sown, 
 
 Ideals of manhood, faithful to the last, 
 
 The spirit of truth, through thee immortal grown. 
 
 Yet as with tears we lay thy form away. 
 Ere yet they hide thee from us in the dust, 
 A thousand sons beside thy grave shall say 
 Thou wert more faithful to thine ancient trust ; 
 In spite of Fate, thou play'dst the nobler part : 
 Thy Spirit lives, thy Mother mind and heart! 
 
 [36] 
 
A PRAYER 
 {Written during the darkest days of the Great War) 
 
 A thousand years, O Lord, within thy sight, 
 
 Are but as yesterday when past, to thee, 
 
 And still thy children and our brothers fight : 
 
 How long, how long, O Lord, shall these things be! 
 
 The darkest ages, as they seem to us. 
 To thee are but as watches in the night; 
 Yet in the darkness we, thy children, cry, 
 "How long, hov7 long, O Lord, e'er it be light!" 
 
 Oh, show to us from out the darkling skies 
 Some star of promise that may guide our way, 
 That, stumbhng bUndly, we may yet have hope 
 To see the dawning of thy perfect day ! 
 
 [37] 
 
GLORIA MUNDI 
 
 {Lines zvritten in dejection) 
 
 We hail the victor with laurels and wine, 
 The whole wide world is his to greet, 
 But what of the man who has fought his best — 
 And met defeat? 
 
 We honor the dead, though they died in vain, 
 And over their graves the death drums beat. 
 But what of the man who has fought his best — 
 And met defeat? 
 
 When stronger powers have swept along, 
 And the lesser live, though in forced retreat. 
 Then what of the man who has fought his best — 
 And met defeat? 
 
 Success is the idol to whom men bow, 
 No weakling can hurl him from his high seat : 
 There is no place for the man who has fought — 
 And met defeat. 
 
 [38] 
 
TRUE AMERICAN 
 
 On the shell torn fields of France, 
 In the game of Death and Chance, 
 With defiance in his glance, 
 He's on the Job. 
 
 In the roaring blazing mill, 
 Turning out munitions still, 
 Sweating, working, with a will, 
 He's on the Job. 
 
 In the office all the day. 
 Planning every move and way, 
 Giving up all thoughts of play, 
 He's on the Job. 
 
 In each place where he is put, 
 Striving, brain and hand and foot, 
 Grimly on through blood or soot, 
 He's on the Job. 
 
 Is it true of you today. 
 In your place and in your way? 
 If one ask them, can they say, 
 "He's on the Job !" 
 
 [39] 
 
MOVIE MANIA 
 {The school-hoy speaks:) 
 
 I like to go to the movies 
 
 And see the heroes bold 
 
 Do deeds of dashing daring 
 
 With nerve that's strong and cold; 
 
 I love to see the lovers 
 
 In close and warm embrace, 
 
 That golden haired her-o-ine 
 
 With sweet upHfted face; 
 
 I thrill to see the vampire 
 
 A-vamping for her prey, 
 
 Or shiver as I see her send 
 
 Her victim on his way; 
 
 I laugh to see the comic mutt 
 
 With large and floppy feet 
 
 Throw gobs of custard pie about 
 
 And lie, and steal, and cheat; 
 
 And in imagination 
 
 With cowboys wild I ride, 
 
 To hang the villain hoss-thief 
 
 Or. save the ravished bride; 
 
 I stare with eyes a-popping 
 
 At mermaids under seas, 
 
 Where sunken wrecks are lying 
 
 And fishes live at ease; 
 
 I shiver over battles, 
 
 I weep at death and pain, 
 
 I seek out all the thrillers— 
 
 And then I go again, 
 
 [40] 
 
But in the cold grey morning 
 The movie house is dark, 
 The ghosts of all my pleasures 
 Are misty, chill, and stark; 
 And when I face the master, 
 No lesson in my head, 
 The joys of moving pictures 
 Are far away and dead; 
 Yet many the stolen moments 
 When I should be at work, 
 I dream and dream of the pictures, 
 And shirk and shirk and shirk; 
 I know this way of dreaming 
 Won't get me anywhere, 
 I know rU flunk the mid-years. 
 But somehow I don't care; 
 And if they chuck me out of school- 
 To finish up this rhyme — 
 I'll get a job in a movie house 
 And stay there all the time. 
 
 [41 
 
VALE ATQUE AVE! 
 
 (Written on the death of a school-boy, a leader in his 
 
 class and school, who was drowned 
 
 at the age of sixteen) 
 
 He was our friend. In all our work and play, 
 
 A true companion, faithful to the right, 
 
 A sharer in each task, or hard or light, 
 
 A cheerful soldier of each passing day. 
 
 For him the path of duty was a road 
 
 To high achievement in a chosen field; 
 
 No drudge to irksome bondage sealed, 
 
 A willing bearer of his youth's light load. 
 
 Of such, a better world of men is made, 
 
 Who greet each day as worth its aim and end, 
 
 Are not content to lag behind, but bend 
 
 Their strength to conquer ere the daylight fade. 
 
 He passed, yet lives, for still his life shall stand, 
 
 An inspiration, like a helping hand. 
 
 [43] 
 
VALEDICTORY 
 (Upon leaving my old pupils) 
 
 Farewell ! 
 
 And these last precepts in thy memory write : 
 
 Keep thou thy honor with thy soul and might ; 
 
 Be not content in righteousness to dwell, 
 
 But be a leader 'gainst the force of Hell; 
 
 Make honest Labor's daily habit thine, 
 
 Nor drink too deep of Pleasure's heady wine; 
 
 In all thou dost aim high, thy best to do, 
 
 Else wilt thou be to thine own self untrue ; 
 
 Be grave in place, and gay when work is past. 
 
 Cheerful in both, for cheer comes first and last ; 
 
 In all thy merry jests »bear this in mind, 
 
 No jest is pleasure if it be unkind; 
 
 Let courteous words and manners show thy heart. 
 
 Nor think rude independence manly art; 
 
 Do service where thou canst, to great or small. 
 
 And love mankind, not one, nor class, but all ; 
 
 Each act to habit lends its little strength. 
 
 And both to character will come at length; 
 
 If, then, thou dost each act as best thou can, 
 
 Thyself, at last, will make thee, lad, a Man ! 
 
 [43] 
 
ON THE PROW 
 
 Blue, blue, and gray, with a sparkling light, 
 And white foam flying, and heaven alight! 
 Space, space, and infinite ocean deeps, 
 And vast winds blowing, and cloud- wrack sweeps! 
 
 On, on, away from labor and strife, 
 
 With the mighty pulse of the ocean's life ! 
 
 Swell, swell, my heart, with the strength of the sea, 
 
 And its magical lure and its mystery! 
 
 [44] 
 
A PARABLE 
 
 My life seems dull, as is yon muddy pool 
 That in the rut beside the road doth lie ; 
 I look again upon the pool, and see — 
 The mirrored radiance of the summer sky ! 
 
 [45] 
 
THE MAY-FLOWER 
 
 Wandering afield on a springtide day, 
 I spied a May-flower by the way, 
 Her rosy head 'mid the fallen leaves, 
 Like a dimpled maid in a stack of sheaves. 
 
 I plucked the blossom that blushed and smiled, 
 And with its beauties an hour whiled, 
 Then left the spray in a dainty glass 
 By the bed of a sufferer I chanced to pass. 
 
 The bloom and the scent were gone next day, 
 But the soul of the flower will linger aye, 
 For in the sufferer's grateful mind 
 Its perfect sweetness is still enshrined. 
 
 Our lives, though short, may bloom with love, 
 
 H each his latent beauty prove, 
 
 In grateful minds enshrined may be, 
 
 And find an immortality. 
 
 [46] 
 
 
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 BINDERY INC. |§| 
 
 ^^^ DEC 88 
 
 N. MANCHESTER, 
 INDIANA 46962 
 
 
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