P s "555] /•i-v ii^iJl2„ „ .IJi^ ikM&i^^Mi V^. =vyfi 4j Warfeliipi^ i.^ J POEMS Warn paiMer Book_ GopyiightN^ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. THOUGHLBIRD WARBLINGS POEMS By JESSIE PALMER GRANT PUBLISHING HOUSE Maquoketa, Iowa. 1915 r\ i> ■t,'^ Copyrighted 1915 By JESSIE PALMER All Rights Reserved. MAY 19 1915 ©aA398884 ^ This volume is lovingly dedicated to my father and mother, William and Dorothy Palmer, who have understood and encouraged. FIRST DIVISION INTRODUCTORY AND NATURE POEMS To My Thought-Bird. To My Pen. A Rainy Night. To an Old Tree. To the Violets. Spring Flowers. Night in Summer. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLTXGS TO MY THOUGHT-BIRD Sing on! Oh thought-bird in my heart, And render song of soul — Thought-curreiUs threading life's dream-sea- Sweet warbling true thy role. Refrain! Avild thought-bird, close alight To man and nature's breast — Mid common helds of grass and grain, Where God bade man's feet rest. Oh, hover o'er life's highway steep: Extol that fiintsome road Where human traffic bravely bears Along its motley load. Portray, in songful eulogy, God's world and all therein. From earth's own bosom soaring oft Full cloudward o'er the din. Man's aspirations, carol, from Seeds lowly to fair blow; Not one, but has his tree "ideal," On which thought-blossoms grow. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS From lield and highway, rise, and sing Mid treetops, blossom-fiiied; Then, up! and perch the filmy clouds. Until thy soul is thrilled With yearning to attain the skies; Oh boundless freedom thine! Full flightsome thou canst warble, then, "Both heav'n and earth are mine!" TO MY PEN Of all the true friends in this world I hare had But one ever constant has been; My joy makes it glad And my grief makes it sad; That friend is my dear, dear old pen. Together we wander in fanciful flight Through realms where abides genius fair. And in silent delight, Oft by day or by night, We counsel and meditate there. At morn when the sun's million beams dance about Like nymphs just escaped from a den. My light heart goes out To this friend so devout Making joyous my faithful old pen. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLIXGS Again, when the sun, in the clear noonday skies, A supreme monarch reigning aloof. All so free from disguise His own glory descries. Then my pen of mine ardor is proof. At eve, when the fragrance of blossom and flower Pond memories, long hidden, recall. My pen yields to power Of that sweet tranquil hour When twilight 'gins softly to fall. It sings, with the nightingale, songs of repose, For oft while the beautiful moon O'er night's dreamy doze Her lovely light throws My pen with my soul doth commune. As soul dwells in soul, so in mine dwelleth thine. There is union in feeling and thought; Thy spirit, benign, Is my soul's friendly shrine. Sacred vault which the world enters not. The world's blighting shadow cannot fall between Our souls wrapt in God's holy light, A halo unseen By the world's eye so keen. Though it burns ever vivid and bright. 10 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS Thy voice, Avhich is silent to all but mine ear^ ;'; Re-echoes the song in my heart, « And scenes, ever dear, -, l Thou canst paint true and clear With thy light tracing linger of art. That poetic finger, whose magical touch Lures many an incident forth, Makes us think and feel much. For its paintings are such That preserve every memory of worth. When friends that I cherish grow distant and col^ And spirits fall, sorely depressed, I fly as of old To my pen and unfold All the sorrow and pain in my breast. Sweet happiness, too, do I share all with thee. Oh my sensitive, trustworthy friend! Congenial are we. For I know thee to be All honor and truth to the end. Thy tears are sincere, and thy smiles free from guilt;; For solace on thee I depend; Faith in thee cannot tilt For I know that thou wilt Thine ear in sweet sympathy lend. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 11 I deem this fair friendship the noblest and best That God ever gave life and tone; Indeed, it is blessed With a zeal and a zest Which makes it a kin to His own. Oh Pen, precious Pen! what a treasure thou art! In virtue's footprints hast thou trod; Thou canst not depart From thine home in my heart, Priceless gift from our generous God. Thou hope in despair, lighting paths to success, I my life by thy teachings will mold. It is wealth to possess Such a friend as I bless; Ah, my pen is a friend that's all gold! A RAINY NIGHT Silver rain-drops patter softly On the roof above my head While I lie amid the darkness Pierced by silent gleams of red. How I love to hear them dropping Then go frolicing along Till they trickle through the eaves spout. Singing such a merry song. THOUGHT-BIRD WAFIBLIXGS Bubbling, rippling, rushing onward. Dancing, laughing, in their flow As they leap in great confusion Down the cistern there below. Ah, the music in those rain-drops Strangely soothes the aching heart. Calms the tempest in the bosom. Bids despondency depart, Fills the soul with sweet contentment, And the heart grows light, the while. Dries our tears, and slyly coaxes Into life a sort of smile. Ah, this calm and peaceful feeling Wrought by music in the rain, And the rest it brings while playing On the roof and window-pane. Surely each drop is some message From the world's one guiding star, Some pure thought or inspiration From His throne in heaven afar, Some sweet message of compassion, One kind word of His great love; Hark! they surely are re-echoed From that land far, far above. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 13 Ne'er were strains so low and soothing, Filled with harmonies complete And with tones so soft and mellow; Ah, 'tis music strangely sweet. Naught of bitterness nor sadness Does this influence recall. Gentle rain-drops, how I bless you As you swiftly, softly, fall. Let me close mine eyes in slumber. Hum again your thousand airs. Melodies so full of meaning, Banishing all earthly cares. Let my dreamings be of heaven While I list to strains divine. Angel visions hover near me And their arms about me twine. Now I wake from peaceful slumber. Morning greets me with gla4 song^ Birds are warbling near my window In a noisy gleeful throng. See, the sun shines out so brightly I Making all the glad world hum. And the air so fresh and fragrant Tells us all spring flowers have come. 14 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS It was sweet last night to listen To the patter of the drops ; Now I'm glad to see them glisten In the leafy green tree tops. Life's bright side alone is upward Since the gentle, all-night shower And the thoughts that fell from heayen In that wakeful, midnight hour. Spring has come, so let us welcome Her in all her moods again; Welcome, spring, and golden sunshine. Flowers, and showers of happy rain! TO AN OLD TREE It wakened from its winter dreams As from a study brown. And for a dress of gorgeous green Exchanged its snowy gown. It smiled, and nodded to the world. That old tree, daily seen. But never looked so fresh before In leafy gown of green. The magic hand of smiling spring But touched the tree, when lo! THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 15 :New life 'gan surging through its veins And clothed its branches, so. It felt the thrill of energy, Nor knew that it was old, While through its crown of budding green The sun poured streams of gold. It trembled with a new-born joy That spring, unfailing, gives, 'That joy that leaps from root to twig And makes it glad that lives. •Oh see this model form of strength, This living portrait, fair, With life, and hope, and joy, and bloom Out-bursting everywhere. Whoe'er would guess thy many years, Or dream, while through their lapse, 'Twere bitter storms and tempests sent By God himself, perhaps, That made thee grand, and strong, and firm, E'en now, in thine old age. To face betiding ills of life With matchless calm, and sage? Tet, all thy noble, hardy strength. Hard earned, and slowly gained, 16 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS Were but as naught, had sweetness fled. And strength alone, remained. But thou hast lived the beautiful; The throne above the blue Did not forget to pierce the sky And let the sun shine through To carry warmth, and loving thoughts. And sweetness, to thine heart. Which blossom out, and beautify This nature's work of art. How green its leaves and red its buds! How bright its blossoms are! How rare its perfume, round about. And wafted yet afar! Its spreading branches love to cast A cool and friendly shade; And tenderly they rock the nests Among their blossoms made By bright-plumed birds that warble there: For yearly, in the spring, Sweet songsters from the sunny south Their home flight gladly wing. And all day long they toil and sing About the old home tree, THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 17 While every twig vibrates with song As if in sympathy. 'Tis here, at morn, the snowy doves Delight to bill and coo, At evening, sings the whippoor-will, All bathed in silver dew; And later in the stilly night, From this, his sacred throne, The nightingale pours forth his soul In sadness, and alone. Methinks the old tree understands. And breathes his sweet, sad tale To sleeping songsters, dreaming of The wondrous nightingale. Ah, sweet indeed, the tender thoughts That cling to this old tree; Were every life like unto thine How grand this world would be. 'Tis God's example set for men, Full-grown in His wise way, Nor questioned aught of why it grew. Nor dared to disobey. And heaven's angels would rejoice With earth, in endless song, If, like this tree, our lives could be Thus beautiful and strong. 18 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS TO THE VIOLETS Pretty violets, blue and dainty, From the green earth upward growiag. All your beauty and your sweetness On this world, in joy, bestowing. Though the life you live is simple, Yet, methinks 'tis glorious, too; People love you 'cause you're fragrant, 'Cause you're sweet, and shy, and blue. And you creep like heaven's sunshine Deep into the human heart, Where the thoughts that hover round you Never from the soul depart. Thoughts so pure, and sweet, and tender. Swiftly pass the golden hour While we, wandering, stoop and gently Pluck this dainty little flower. Pluck an hundred, pluck a thousand! All the eager hands can hold! Keep them near us, give to others And the good is manifold. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 19 It is good to see you, violets, In the home and everywhere, Good, to have your precious fragrance Scenting up the sunny air; But we'd like to have you tell us If you came here from afar, Where you got your wondrous beauty. And exactly what you are. Did you borrow all your blueness From the azure of the tkies? Are you but the thoughts of angels Sent to earth by the Aii-wise? Is your mission gladsome tidings Of the beautiful new spring? And your secret, but the knowledge How to make the sad heart sing? Did you get your airy freshness From a stray celestial breeze? All your virtues, modest violet, Speak! where got you, dear, all these? Tell us why we seek you, violet. In the morning of the spring; Why we smile, and gently pluck you. Dainty, modest, little thing. 20 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS Though you blossom but to perish In perhaps, a single day, Yet, your soul God gave in sweetness, Born into this world to stay. SPRING FLOWERS How we love to gather flowers In the pasture by the lane, In the field, and in the meadow. After some refreshing rain Or at morning when they're thickest And they look so fresh and bright Sparkling with the diamond dew that Settled on them in the night! By the mill stream they are growing, On its gently sloping banks Where the fishes splash the water When they play their swimming pranks: And some lift their heads so proudly Mid the slender waving grass, While the modest wild flowers nestle Where they're scarcely seen, alas! All around the bluffs we find them, Poising on some jagged edge Where a clear, cool spring comes bubbling THOUGHT-BIUD WARBLIXG3 21 From beneath its rcxiky ledge And falls, with a ring of music, Lightly o'er the shallow brink Where the fairies and the wood nymphs Come with silver cups to drink. Yonder hill is glorious with them! And the flats are covered, too, With a wealth of blowing flowers. Every kind and every hue. All this tender life and brightness. Flowers, and moss, and creeping vine Oather, from the air and rain-drops, Sparkling dew and warm sunshine. Flowers, and ferns, and tinted blossoms. Hedge, and bush, and budding trees Breathe a mingled breath of fragrance Scattered by the playful breeze. All this glory, bloom, and sweetness, Flood of beauty far and wide. In a few short weeks will vanish Like the ebbing of a tide. NIGHT IN SUMMER Here, in a soft flood of moonlight, Here, neath the star-studded skies. Nature, communing with heaven, Quiet and slumbering lies. 22 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS Yonder, the hills rise in silence, Save for their mumuring streams, Peaceful, and true in their outlines; Hills, can you tell us your dreams? Pose you in motionless grandeur, Resting in deep slumber now "While the great loving moon, rising, Lingers, and kisses your brow. Never so deep is your slumber, Swift, little bright flashing streams. Yet, the grand night-fall has surely Brought to you bright, happy dreams. Restless and mirthful, ye brooklets. Still in your beds cannot keep. Tossing o'er smooth, shining pebbles. Laughing aloud in your sleep. Dreaming of yesterday's travel. Mountain, and moor, and the vale; Water-sprites weave in their ballads Bits of the half whispered tale. Hear the sweet nightingale singing! How the sad song of his dream Mingles in contrast of feeling W^ith the glad tone of the stream ! THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS Ever, he sings in the distance. Having no wish to be free, Lioving his bondage of sadness Ever and ever to be. Saddest at night is the willow, Willow that ever shall weep; Though melanclioly in day time, Saddest dreams burden its sleep. PiBing and drooping though ever. Nightly, through all the long years. Sobbing and dew-tVrenched, the willow Bursts its great heart full of tears. Even the flowers are dreaming. Dreaming of something divine. Something that leaves in their blossoms Fragrance, and beauty sublime. Oh, what a fair glimpse of Eden, When with the dawn they unfold, Ifaking the bright morning marvel Each little fiower to behold. Bursting in eloquent praises. Language that souls understand, Fashion, and color, and perfume, Tell of God's night in dreamland. 24 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS Fitfully sleeping and waking. All. the night long the soft breeze. Bearing its burden of fragrance. Whispers, and stirs in the trees. Mid the low rustle of blossoms, Far and near, ever are heard, Plaintive, and sweet as from heaven, Cries of the nocturnad bird. Beautiful, though be the woodland Bathed in the morning's sunlight, Grander, thy dignity makes it, Wonderful, beautiful, night! Solemn and sacred, yet sweetly, Strangely enchanting it seems. Steeped in mysterious secrets. Dreaming its own mystic dreams. Why do you stir in your slumber? Tell us, oh beautiful trees; Why move your leaf-covered branches Slow in the gentlest breeze? Hushed lullabies softly humming, Rocking within your great arms Birds in their half hidden cradles; These, are your tenderest charms. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 26 Soft tailing moonbeams, all golden, Glimmer, then sink out of sight Par in the depths of the woodland, Wrapped in the shadowy night; Where, in a spell of enchantment. Bound till tlie dawn of the day •Comes like the smile of an angel. Dazzling the moonbeams away. Thus, when the green earth reposes, All the world sleeps on her breast. Night spreads her rich robe of darkness. Bidding fair nature take rest; And like a queen in her glory Graces her beautiful throne. Wielding her powerful sceptre. Deeming the earth all her own; While the far heavens, illumined. Soft with celestial fire glow, -Send pilgrim rays from the sky lamps Into the darkness below. Ever, reign o'er thy dominion After the close of the day. First, in the spirit of twilight, Dreamy, and golden, and gray; 26 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS Then in the fullness of power Rule o'er the slumbering earth Till the new day, in her brilliance. Seizes the throne at her birth. Then, oh had heaven an artist! True, to paint thee in thy flight Vanishing spirit of grandeur. Wonderful, beautiful, night! SECOND DIVISION HEART POEMS Maddening Moments. In Memoriam. To a Pressed Rose. A Woodland Romance. Babe at Twilight. Memory. An Angel Bird. Dejection and Reflection. To My Dream-Boat. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 29 MADDENING MOMENTS Away with this chair! this slow wheeling chair; And give back the nimble feet With whom, in the past, not a lad or a lass In a race would dare compete. God, grant the sweet freedom to roam once more. Alone, through the wild wood green; And o'er the flowered hills, seeking gold daffodils; Heaven, Mdiat does this bondage mean? Come back, light of day, with your world of joy, To the eyes that cry to see ; And replenish the soul from your flowing bowl Of human ecstasy. Return with those grand possibilities, Beset with hope gems that gleam; And wake the voice, hushed in the spirit that's crushed, With the magic of your beam. Come back, tide of notes, from the world of sound. To the ears that yearn to hear Long lost melodies, and the bird symphonies. And voices of loved ones dear; And give me the voice that was once my own 30 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS To speak, and laugh, and sing; Great God, I beseech, give me hearing and speech! Or help me to bear this thing. Come back, sacred love, to this lonely heart That w^eeps incessant tears; And bring it the smile and the life worth while To till the empty years; Rekindle the lire in this holy hearth, Till its glow transforms the face; God's most precious gift, come home from adrift. And warm this chilled place. Come back, vital thought, on your spangled wings; Come back to this shadowed brain; And make it full bright with transcendent light Of reason, once again. Unfetter the chains of this madness, that Usurped your native throne; Return, exiled reason, to vanquish foul treason; And nobly claim your own. IN MEMORIAM Though a day has spent its glory On the earth and in the skies, And its crimson fades forever, Yet, its beauty never dies. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 31 For the warm, bright day, in passing, Leaves an influence to bear On all flower and vegetation That it started everywhere. How the warm rays of its sunshine And the sweetness of its breeze Burst to life the seed, earth planted, Coax to budding mighty trees! Though tomorrow, with its clouding, Fills the earth and sky with gloom, Yet, undying is the longing That it gave to thrive and bloom; For the tiny roots, once started. Have the courage still to grow. And the buds brought into being Cease not striving fair to blow. Every sunbeam, every dew-drop That the world received that day Gains in value of its mission As the world rolls on its way. Thus it is with you, dear mother. As God takes you to His care. Through the gloom we see your beauty As you left it everywhere. You have lived the life God gave you In the good way that you knew. 32 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS And our paths will ever blossom With the roses Mother strew. With God's help, our heavy crosses Will be borne with valiant grace, Lightened by the sacred memory Of our angel mother's face; And the bitter cup will sweeten With the thoughts you strove to give.. Ever, noble inspirations In the lives your children live. God was good to leave you. Mother, In our midst these many years; And the sorrow of this parting Is not measured by our tears. We are sad, but why this sadness When we contemplate your life With its noble deeds e'er shining Through this world's unceasing strife' While our hearts are doing battle. Gaining strength, we firmly stand, Clasping all your golden weapons, Richly jeweled, in our hand; Weapons that the angels carry: Patience, courage, strength and love; May they guide us in your footsteps To that golden gate above. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 33 TO A PRESSED ROSE How long, little rose, have you lain like this? How long, 'twixt the pages here? "When you came here to rest, were you sadly pressed; All wet with a heart shed tear? Or were you immersed in happiness deep. As sweet as your fragrant self; And then tenderly placed where you've long since graced This old secluded shelf? Did your soft petals touch the dear silent lips Of somebody's loved one lost? Could j'our eloquent powers in the language of fiowers Interpret the living's cost? And were you entwined in a wreath of love On the casket that went to the grave? Did you, rose, understand 'twas a mother's hand Selected you to save? Or might you have served in a mission of joy; Perchance, 'twas a maiden fair. For whose sake you came down to the bridal gown Or to deck her satin hair. 34 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS The wedding day o'er, you emblem of love, She kissed you and put you away. Where, entranced through long years, thus embalmed in her tears Of happiness, you lay. Mayhap, little rose, 'tis the ballroom glare That dazzles your memory's eye; And your secret an ode to a brief episode. Into which I would not pry. Or is it the tale of commencement day Your spellbound lips would prate; Did you come here to rest trom the proud, hopeful breast Of a sweet girl graduate? Did you bloom, little rose, on a gorgeous bush, In a garden of roses rare, Where the dew and the moon and the smiles of June Conspired to make j^ou fair? And what did the whispering breezes say That caused your cheeks to flush? How came you to grow, to bud and to blow, And brighten the world with your blush? Ah, sage little rose, in your sacred dust, Asleep in an alien tomb, When you perished, the day you were thus laid away. You gave your fullest bloom; You died on the altar of sentiment; THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 35 A beautiful death for thee! Better thus, to impart joy to some human heart, Than droop on a fine rose-tree. A WOODLAND ROMANCE There was once a quiet nook Down beside a merry brook Where a maiden took a book Every day; And if she didn't read She would let her fancy feed On its wanderings, for indeed, 'Twas her way. When this little lassie took A deep interest in her book As she sat there by the brook In the shade, All oblivious of the world. Till the flag of night unfurled And the shadows crept and curled Round the maid. She would start as from a dream. And the very air would teem With the beauties of the theme In her head: 36 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS For her mind and soul had been Other worlds and scenes withia And had mingled in their din, While she read. Now she vainly tried to feel That her earthly bower was real.. And the brook, that tried to steal From the dell, Till she made a pebble dash In the brook and heard it splash, And saw its tiny flash As it fell. Then the evening's dewy air Fell upon her face and hair. And she shivered, sitting there At that hour; So she left her flowery throne She had occupied alone And so loved to call her own Secret bower. Then she hid the treasure book 'Mongst the lilies by the brook- For she daily to the nook Did return; And then gaily tripped away Singing happy songs that day 'Long the path that loved to stray THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS X7 Through the fern. All too soon, she sang, too soon Thou hast risen, lovely moon; And the nightingale the tune Seemed to know. For the saddest, sweetest note, Pathos pouring from his throat, Through the wood began to float. Soft and low. if she would her rest accept In her bower, he would have kept Yigil o'er her while she slept, And been glad. But the channing girl had gone. She had told him in her song, Leaving him to wait the dawn And be sad. When the morrow, bright and clear. Slowly dawning, did appear. Waking songsters far and near In their nest, She returned with face so bright And with heart so free and light After slumbering all the night In sweet rest. 38 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS Now, no more alone, this maid. Dreaming, sits there in the shade. In the nook the wild vine made, All in flower; For a hunter, wont to stray Through the woodland that bright day^, Chanced to tread the winding way To her bower. With no thought of gun or game,. He thereafter daily eame With his manly heart aflame And his soul ; For his admiration grew Into love so deep and true. And he found it sweet to woo This fair girl. Never after they forgot This ideal romantic spot Where it was their sacred lot To first meet. But in fancy, oft return To the nook mid vine and fern.. And the shining brook discern At their feet. Let the silvery brooklet sail Neath the sun or moonlight, pale„ THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLIXGS 39 Or be ruffled by the gale, Bleak and wild! In its murmur still is told Of the handsome hunter, bold. And the girl with hair of gold; Woodland child. And the story seems to please. For the birds up in the trees Tell it to the whispering breeze, As it moves; And methinks the woodland sighs, While with kindly smiling eyes Heaven looks down from the skies And approves. BABE AT TWILIGHT A sweet little head of flaxen hair Lowly sank on a mother's breast, And nestled there While she hummed an air To soothe her babe to rest. That sweet cup of love the mother sips, Fondly kissing oft again The pink finger tips And dainty red lips And little dimpled chin. 40 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLING3 The innocent lips then sweetly smiled. And the eyes of turquoise blue, With expression so miid, Slowly closed, and the child Fell asleep to dream anew. She rocks and sings those iullabys Which soothe our childhood years. And smother sighs, And close tired eyes, And dry unwanted tears. How softly she hums those simple airs Whose Avorth to babe is known. Till the smile he wears Shows that baby's cares On speeded wings have flown. Then moving with a noise^.ess tread In baby's nursery. On downy bed The sunny head She pillows tenderly. While o'er the sleeper bends she lovr. Though dreamland paths he trips, He feels e'en now Upon his brow The light touch of her lips. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLIXGS 41 MEMORY I dreamed a fair dream on a pillow of tears, A dream that will lighten the burden of years; It lived all the glad, happj'^ hours o'er and o'er That glitter like studs in the bright days of yore. When God giveth sweetness from life's brimming cup Its memory e'er sweetens the more bitter sup; 'Tis only a link in life's wonderful chain, Fate's handiwork blending its gladness and pain. Oh, beautiful dream of the bright, golden past; Thy radiant beauty shall ever more last! Though vanished, it lingers in memory dear, For what is a dream, was reality here. AN ANGEL BIRD The beautiful cage moves not on its spring, And motionless too hangs the gay little swing. The perches are free from their precious weight, now. For Death's angel entered some where and some how. Yes, there in the bottom, all silent and cold, Its bright plumage spread like a halo of gold, Our birdie is lying on one pretty wing. Oh, pride of the household, poor beautiful thing! 42 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS No bird was e'er blessed with a voice like thine owr Whose silvery notes scatter its beauty and tone. 'Tis like shutting out all the joy and sunshine, For the life of our home was that sweet song of thine. We'll lay thee to rest neath the fairest of skies With love in our hearts and sad tears in our eyes. A tiny silk pillow of daintiest blue We place in the casket we've just made for you Of a wee handsome box that's all covered with flowers; 'Twill seem that you slumber 'mid blossoming bowers. So neatly we've lined it with silk white as snow Together with rose-leaves whose fragrance you know. A silken shroud, blue as the sky's bluest spots, And laden with pleading forget-me-nots, So lovingly covers our beautiful dead, While dainty wreaths twine round your poor weary head. A lily-cup tilled with the morning's bright dew, The tear-drops, perhaps, that the birds shed for you, We place in your casket, a fountain to be. To ever remind you, the world weeps for thee. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 43 'Twill keep fresh and fragrant each tiny rose-leaf Whose tender caresses will tell of our grief. No monarch or sovereign is there, but were proud To take their last rest in your casket and shroud. Your monument towers, a graceful elm tree That sighs o'er the grave we have given to thee, A little mound covered with mosses and flowers Where bright sunbeams linger through long summer hours. Forever, you'll slumber beneath the green sod But your soul in your song is an angel with God. 'Twere wrong to recall you in longing or words, For heaven weren't heaven without singing birds. DEJECTION AND REFLECTION I rose one half-dawned morning From a tossed and sleepless bed. With brain astorm with cloud-thoughts, And a heart that weighed like lead. With grief-drawn face, eyes tearful, Saddened lips that would not smile: Life's quiv'ring ship seemed dipping To its anchor-heart the while. 44 THOUGHT-BIRI) WAHBLINGS A bird, from out my window, A "Good inoniinK," joyous trillod; My soul's liKht-pinioned thought-bird. Swilt rospondiiiK, rose, and thrilled Me with aspirant longing To attune uh-. to the morn And feel the breath of heaven. As that sweet new day was born. So, out into my garden. And adown its tlower-fringod path, 1 stole, and saw each flower All anoint* with bright dew-bath — Morn's marvelous baptism, Whence emerges myriad powers To vanquish bloom-life bllghtings, Hard imposed of y<\ster hours. The dust, the heat and brownness. Heaped on flowers yesterday. With all their worry-burden. In that dew-bath dripped away, Restoring them to freshness And courageous attitude. As if with God's own spirit They divinely were imbued. From deep, brave-throbbing, red hearts Of many a half-blown rose. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 45 Sweet fragrant hope ascending Quite iinbittered all my prose. And, as I caught the whis'prings Of each striving, bursting bud, My heart and thought-veins quickened With their braver strain of blood. And so I strolled my garden Until half-dawn bloomed full dawn, Imbibing optimism That flowed on, and on, and on — Receiving sweet instruction In the tongue of flowers and trees, Until I stood triumphant — Honey-lilled, as were the bees. And then, some ardent sun-rays, That all golden-streaked the land, Came struggling through the vine-leafed Thatch, and warmly kissed my hand. As if they'd travelled earth 'round, And throughout the livelong night. To thus kiss and caress me And make my morning bright. With heart-thoughts full, o'erflowing With the garden's wisdom sweet. My pleasure was reflected In a smile of joy so meet 46 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS That e'en the songster marvelled, Warbling more ecstatic'ly Than when he sang "Good morning!" Such a change was wrought in me. Myself, attune with nature, Yester's grievous ills forgot, And all that starless night between, — Skies with cloudsome billows fraught. And so I left the garden, And my store of gleanings took To strew upon the pages Of life's daily poem book. TO MY DREAM-BOAT Sail on! Dream-boat: earth-cares forget. Across the dream-sea drift Whose skies are ne'er so cloud-beset But sunshine spies a rift; Whose mystic waters murmur low. And, rippling ev'ry way, Seek isles bewitched in Fancy's throw Where dream-sea-breezes play. Glide on! lithe Boat— fantastic thing Moon-gold and starlight-flecked — Transport the soul that fain would sing THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 47 The airs mermaids select From winds, and waves, and sylphs of sea That roam like spirit-gleams. Soft crooning cradle-songs to thee, Thou rocked in sea of dreams. Oh, fairy Boat, on seas all waved With opalescent light, Thou canst descend to beds, pearl-paved, Or skyward take fair flight. Half boat, half bird, a vision true Inspired through calm or gale To thus explore the waters blue And isles of shadows pale. Float airily, through dream-sea mist. Amid a thousand isles Where flowering thought-vines creep, atwist. In tangled dream-sea-wilds. And thought-birds nest the silvan heart Divinely warbling lay. While phantom clouds convene, and part, Soft-tinting all the day. Then Night inspires, through starlit eyes. Her rich, isle-strewn domain Where, phantomlike, the Dream-boat plies In quest of golden gain. Hypnotic Moon's elysian smiles Through ages long have glowed 48 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS Upon these variegated isles — Sweet Varary's abode. 'Tis here the Soul, transported, weaves Her floral thought-wreaths lair; Her magic, sea-cast net receives, In shoals, pearl-thought-gems rare; And from capricious clouds and skies She borrows moods and hues, While breezes proffer song and sighs For poet souls to use. Then, shore-ward sail! boat of the mind Replete with treasure-pile — Art-gift of cloud and sky and wind, Dream-sea, and bloom-lilled isle. And when Soul dips her golden pen, Oarlike, in pearl-strewn sea, My fragile boat rows back again With balm for earth and me. THIRD DIVISION LIFE'S POETRY AND PROSE (A poem which is a cluster — nay, a treeful — of thought-blossoms) . "THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 51 LIFE'S POETRY AND PROSE When life is in its springtime And all the world bids fair, There's poetry in living; There's beauty everywhere. Above, the cloudless heavens Are steeped in azure hue; Beyond, life's ocean stretches In endless turquoise blue. The landscape, clothed in verdure And fairest springtime flowers, Presents a scene of romance In sweet secluded bowers. The near yet distant mountains Their richest bloom unfold; And every dancing sunbeam Contains its share of gold. This earthly spot of Eden, Would that 'twould ever last; But soon a glorious haven It glimmers in the past. 52 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS For life's bright morning hastens On wings of wondrous grace; And to the moods of midday Gives up her queenly place. Life's poetry must vary And ever as it flows Amid the sweetest verses There creeps a line of prose. When hopes in tear-drops vanish Like pearls dissolved in wine, A bitter, costly beverage We think our bowl of brine. Fate loves to offer sacrifice Of hope's most brilliant star Consumed on lowly altars By life's ambition's fire; But, rising from its ashes. An incense rarely sweet Pervades the life it blighted— Fate's malice to defeat. In fancy oft well mounted On birds of Paradise, We skim the restless ocean Or hunt the tranquil skies; THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 53 Or, through the tempest's peril, Soar high above the cloud Where mountains lift their summits To tempt the brave and proud; And float our gorgeous banner On yonder dizzy height. In glorious triumph posing — A victor in the tight. But, ere the eager fingers Would pluck the precious gem With all its sparkling beauty. From visionary stem. Reality comes gliding With swift and noiseless tread. And breathes her silent message In words like bits of lead; And seeks to mar vxitb swiftness The glowing, tinted rose, Inserting in its petals A vivid line of prose. O Hopes, while thus alluring To pinnacles of fame. Why fall from lofty pedestals To dreary earth again? 54 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS Each golden promise with its Own bright but empty dreams To chilly disappointment Would ever turn, it seems. And yet dull were existence With life devoid of these, The essence of ambition. To success the very keys. O Soul! despondent spirit. In sombre raiment clad. These robes are unbecoming These thoughts unduly sad. Muse not in dark apparel, Half melancholy tone. But pose in flowing ermine A garb in truth thine own. Let Hope, that star of beauty. Forever lead thee on. Ambition, force unfailing Impel from dawn to dawn. Be not dismayed and downcast When storms in furious wratli, Come sweeping o'er life's ocean And travel in thy path; THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 55 And smiling skies are troubled By clouds that frown and roll; Eclipsing for a moment The halo of thy goal. In strife for right, the soldier Sees light beyond the gloom; His heart beats to sweet music That swells neath cannon boom. The cheery voice of courage, In storm or battle's din, Hath magic power to conquer, And helps the brave to win. Be captain of that vessel Which sails from pole to pole; Whose strength is noble purpose And difficult its goal. From the sunny climes of childhooi? Where virtue's blossoms grow; Through sweet and bitter waters Till age is crowned with snow, Thine onward path illumine With light that shines within, 'Twill fall on other pathways, Help other goals to win. 56 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS The Soul hath many wanderings In its celestial realm, Whence steers the ship of greatness With true and sturdy helm, In quest of priceless beauty- Fair Genius would reveal, In thought, in tone, in paintings, Its sacred haunts conceal. Within its courts and gardens. Those living fountains gleam. The source of inspiration Whence fiovrs the poet's dream. O Soul! Cease not to wander In quest of priceless worth; But seek and find, imparting Thy wealth to needy earth. Bring out, in tones enchanting. Those melodies divine That steal through human nature. To soften and reline. Then hold not in seclusion These gems of truth and grace Which have such noble bearing Upon the human race. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 5T "Bring forth thy best and purest" Is the world's demanding cry; For truest germs of greatness. In slumber never lie. Gleam as a light-house, towering In pure transparency; Each stone in whose grand structure Unveils its brilliancy. Far out on ocean's bosom. Each pilgrim ray of light May reach despairing vessels That pass in silent night. The smallest spark of genius Will shoot its flames up higher, Where, fanned by breath of honor It kindles into fire. It lies in Self's own power, To brighten or make dim The lamps which God hath given To burn and shine for Him. No life-boat, idly drifting, Can ever count the cost By saying, "If I perish. But I alone am lost." 68 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBIJNGS Each footstep is imprinted, An image in the sand. What mighty tide can wipe it From this mysterious land? Each little day that passes Records at eventide, Its thoughts, its deeds, its longings. Base and noble, side by side. Indelible each letter Upon that tiny page; Erased not by atonement Nor dimmed by tears and age. Each life-book is a volumn Of poetry and prose; A picture as we live it, In human weal and woes. So strangely interwoven, These threads of colored strand. By tlie skillfulness of Fate And by Self's own willful hand. They form the unique pattern The world would analize And label certain portions Unlit for paradise. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 59 O Pen! Which thus recordeth In stern, relentless hand, Our noblest aspiration Is to make thy mission grand. Record from early dawning, Till evening's calm repose, Life's poetry that's mingled With scattered lines of prose. Let not beneath thy blushes, Dark under lines be hid; But give the world a volume That's read from lid to lid; That when it claims our drama Full of lessons, for itself. The world may point with reverence To its place upon the shelf. 'Tis storing wealth immortal To mine the gold at hand, The cream of nature given, A balm to heal the land. Each flower 'mid grasses blowing Gives perfume to the air. And makes the whole world sweeter For having nestled there. so THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS To live, enjoy and suffer, To labor, love and die, These mingled thorns and roses In every pathway lie. The life that tends its gardens And cultivates the rose. That culls out needless briars And stunts the weed that grows. That shares its precious fragrance Where little sweetness thrives. And sheds its snowy petals To brighten other lives. Aspires to crest of honor — A modest highway this. To win the crown of glory And drink the cup of bliss. That Hand is rich with jewels And most divinely fair, That gathers unseen laurels The humble brow would wear. And rules with patient firmness, The kingdom of a life; Allowing not a subject To enter into strife. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS Ci Unless the hostile tramples The honor of its king; Then sway the snowy scepter And grand defiance ring! And when the day is ended, Its lustre sheds afar; For heaven, all rejoicing. Unveils another star. And in its lofty mirror. The world beholds its own Arisen in its beauty, Unaided and alone, And murmurs while imbibing The light that backward flows, "That poetry is sweetest That's born of bitter prose." FOURTH DIVISION SERIOUS-THOUGHT ECHOES JL. B. C. Poem— A. Judgment of Man By God and Man. B. Man's Hope in God and God's Hope in Man. C. Human Responsibility to God. Springs of Life. Sun-Thoughts. Claud-Thoughts. •Christmas. A Child of God. To Adolescents. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 65 THE A. B. C. POEM A Judgment of Man by God and Man, Could man survey as God surveys, From His celestial throne, The hearts of men, ah, seldom then Would he find hearts of stone Or hearts corrupt, as all too oft Man judges hearts to be; How difrent, though, if man could know And as the great Judge see. Not infancy alone, bewails, Nor child in early years, But manhood grown would fain atone For ills in honest tears. They may not fall, but burn, unshed, Stemmed by we know not what; And God, each day, sees hearts that pray And good that man deems not. 66 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS B Man's Hope in God and God's Hope in Man. The vilest human being clings To some soul quality; Some principle that's beautiful He's zealously kept free Prom bondage of the sin that dyes It blacker than the night, And God, afar, notes that wee star And loves its feeble light. How sacred to that soul is hope. Its single, precious ray. For God's eyes gleam through that fair beam To light it on its way. And while this single lovelit spark Remains to vitalize, That drifting soul may reach the goal And bloom in paradise. For every longing of the heart. Of goodly mien, whate'er. If true and pure, aspireth sure To heaven as a prayer. Thus it must be, and e'er has been Since human life began. No power innate can separate '" God from the heart of man. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 67 Human Responsibility to God. Apart from all God-given life, Above all else that be, But lower than His angel clan Our kind created He. Unrecognized, oft times, by men. Ignored, perhaps, by self, God's image, pure, must still endure, — 'Tis man's inherent wealth. Ignoble thoughts and vicious deeds Spring not from what is ours. But lack of care in life's warfare On weeds that choke the flowers. Why trample, then, neath willful tread. The noble germs that rise? Cut off the foot that harms the root; E'en sin doth sin despise. O'er self be vigilant and strong. High self-respect retain; Incessant light for truth and right Is life's intended plane. Belittle not one grain of good In self or other men; Crlad-hailed at birth, prolific worth Blooms swift and oft again. 68 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS Where intellect and conscience fail, Heart's tender strings discern; Who disbelieve what these perceive From right perversely turn. Humanity, responsible Through powers inborn that ken, Shall honor life, exalt its strife, Hope, soar, and live again. SPRINGS OF LIFE Life is charged with latent powers, Welling springs of truth and joy,. Which to gush, through mortal hours^. 'Twas designed that man employ Every hue and shade of feeling, In the conscientious soul. That comes, automatic, stealing. To the heart and mind, its goal. Heaven holds the hand terrestrial With a firm eternal grasp, While to earth a power celestial Flows inherent through that clasp;. And the wireless circuit, throbbing With its freight of joy and pain. Thinking, dreaming, laughing, sobbing . Touches every heart and brain. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 69 ^'hen the mind, for knowledge thirst- ing, In its quest discovers truth, Wke a flood of glory bursting Light illumes the thought of youth. Wondrous joy and satisfaction Glows in intellectual fire! May God stay the black hand's actian That would quell the fine desire! Sluggish is the heart and prosesick That moves not in pleasure's dip, When the spirit of gay music Bids the light fantastic trip. Dull the ear not captivated By glad songsters in yon nook. Winds with minor music freighted. And the major liquid brook. Dim the eye that cannot mirror Panoramas in the sky, Cloud scenes grand and pictures fairer- Masterpieces passing by! Dwarfed the minds that read no poems Penned in nature day and night; 'Gain no emulation from them; Feel no transports of delight- 70 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS Much enthusiasm savors Of the sweetness life contains;: And its stimulating flavors Redden all the paling veins. 'Tis the love of work and duty That makes happiness of strife; While the streams of joy and beauty Lend their freshness to all life.. Keep enthusiasm reigning! Life and interest to diffuse; All the arid waste reclaiming Through her wealth of avenues: Else King Morbidness advances With his force of lassitude, Subjugating mind and senses To his blighting, death-like mood,. Why decline the nectared fountains. Quaffing 'stead the stagnant pool. When the gracious, luring mountains Proffer springs of crystal cool? Let the wireless make impressions; Let it play its proffered role In securing sweet concessions Of the common-place to soul!. Man's capacity for pleasure In fair nature, round about, THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLIXGS 71 In vast intellectual treasure. And in principles devout, In his own responsive heart-strings, Tuned for loved humanity, Harping with empassioned renderings; This is life as life should be. There's a box of alabaster In the heart of every rose On the human tree, whose Master Bids the petals all disclose To the world its soul-born treasure, And the same with gladness break; Spilling attar in fall measure For its own a.nd others' sake. SUN-THOUGHTS When fertile seeds of sunny thoughts With breezy talk one scatters, 'Tis not the grade or depth of soil On which they fall that matters; For mental soils, rich, fair, and poor, From mere standpoints of learning. Have still this common quality: The innate. Godly yearning 72 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS For sun-thoughts with the^ir iife-blood glow — Blest fountainheads of health That bring to heart and niind and soul A worthy, righteous wealth. Sun-thoughts create much happiness, And heart-born smiles set free; They parents are of goodly Deeds, That smile back radiancy. A blithesome word transplants them swift. With e'er increasing power, Each new-born blossom making far More wondrous, fragrant flower. 'Tis not the soil, then, but the breadth And constancy of strewing, That farthest rr-.diates sun-thoughts With benefits accruing. CLOUD-THOUGHTS When cloud-thoughts float in mental skies And chill fogs from the heart arise The ship of man but lamely plies The waters of life's sea. And when 'tis plunged in gloom, and tossed. E'en (Jod amazes at the cost THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 73 Of bright-gemmed hours so wasted, lost; 'Tis Gloom's inherent fee. These tearful cloud-thoughts, drear and gray, Shed misty tilms of blinding spray That screen the sea, and veil the day That, smiling, waits to shine. And Oh, the blackness of the sky, Whence borrows life its mournful dye. When cloud-thoughts gather there to cry And make a life repine. But Captain Courage must appear His crew of spirits low to cheer, And guide the ship through grief and fear. Dispelling fog and storm; Till cloud-thoughts part and roll away. Pursued by golden shafts of day — Sun arrows in the blue that play Victorious, bright and warm. CHRISTMAS Oh, Holy Day of Jesus' birth, Thy glad return, so near. Will lend new joy to all the earth Throughout the day-gemmed year. 74 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS Thine outstretched hands are free with gifts. Thy heart with love o'erflows, And through thy mind the Christ-thought sifts The sweets of Sharon's Rose. Come dwell in ev'ry life in fact, And smile in ev'ry face; The world is eager to enact The Christmas thought and grace. The Brother-song thrills ev'ry land With human sympathy, When Christmas takes the harp in hand And plays Humanity. Who gives and smiles, and fills a need^ Exalts new suns to shine; He lives a life that's blessed indeed! Who shows the Christmas sign. A CHILD OF GOD A little ray of sunshine Thou flittest to and fro, Across a million pathways. Where weary feet must go. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 75 Thou partest thorns and thistles For feet all bruised and sore. And lifteth cooling water To lips that thirst for more. And for the weary trav'ler, Worn out with toil and strife Thou findest food and comfort In God's great book of life. In heaven thou hast treasure; So go thy peaceful way, And what thou art, be always; A sunbeam ev'ry day. TO ADOLESCENTS Oh, frailsome little barks galore. How came you drifting here — On life's sea launched, afar from shore — Glad frisking without fear? You dare not trust these blue-green waves. Sun-sprayed and dreamful now; For oft the sea wild wakes and raves! Neath heaven's angry brow. Oh yes, the sea rolls calm to-day; She rocks herself to sleep. 76 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS Whilst, darting, gleaming in your play, From crest to crest you leap. You rise and fall to sweet-sea mood — In youth's own sportive way — Submerged in sprays all rainbow-hued, And thence emerging gay. But stray you not so far from shore. Else lighthouse gleams will fail When floodgates burst and tempests roar, With sharks pursuing trail! When storm-tiends flaunt their blazing locks On mad waves dashing high Above malicious, hiding rocks, Neath lampless, cloud-veiled sky. If harbor-wise you'll not turn back At each approaching storm — Youth blithesome will not wisdom lack If thus far you'll reform: Go seek the noble, shelt'ring side Of some great white-winged ship. To be your friend, ally, and guide, On life's initial trip. FIFTH DIVISION ALMA MATER This poem is a dream-flight — a vivid mental panorama of school scenes and school life, at the School for the Blind at Vinton, Iowa, including descriptions of the building and grounds, and miniature charac- ter sketches of teachers and students, — and, best of all, a glimpse of our beloved and honored Superintendent, T. F. McCune, now deceased. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 79 ALMA MATER I asked the East Wind yesterday, As it was sauntering off your way, To take some messages for me Back to the dear old I. C. B. But like a witch it scampered off, And even now, I hear it scoff! It whistled through its screeching horn And laughed my earnest plea to scorn. And when it would not heed my cries. The bitter tears came to my eyes. I wrung my hands in deep despair And would have madly torn my hair, But milder grew the frantic Wind, Before, so heartless and unkind. It kissed my cheek with sweetness rare And gently tossed my tangled hair. "Oh joy!" I cried, "Thou art no fiend. Thou kindly, playful, eastern Wind; All day have I entreated thee, While thou didst blow so furiously. 80 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS If not my messages, then me, Take back to the old I. C. B. I want to go this very night Where all is music, song, and light." It took me on its wings, unseen, Where ne'er had ridden king nor queen. And swiftly floated toward the west; Oh sweet delusion, dream, or jest. My home was fading fast from view, As on my phantom chariot flew. We sped o'er many a barren field That yearly doth abundance yield, But slumbered now neath snowy shroud. The angels sifted from a cloud. Above, the sky so blue and cold. Bade me its twinkling stars behold. And each one seemed to say to me, "I'm shining on the I. C. B." "Oh that's the place I'm going to!" I cried, as wildly on we blew. "I'm going back this very night Where all is laughter, song, and light. For I have long been so homesick To make that iron gate swing and click. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 81 To sauater up the avenue Neath trees that arch and bow to you. Then o'er the threshold, don't you know, When you have crossed the portico." Perchance, I'll meet, within the hall, The man who superintends it all, T. F. McCune, who'll offer me Such gracious hospitality. His greetings never welcome lack, When former students happen back. For what young life within his fold Did he not strive to wisely mold? The Iowa College for the Blind Is deep within his heart and mind; 'Tis wrapped within his very soul That longs for it an honored goal. He's labored here and helped it grow Since first he came, long years ago. And little whiter, year by year, His once dark hair has grown, I fear. For twenty careful years and ten Are stamped upon his brow since then; And still, beneath his watchful eyes. The flames of all his hopes arise. 82 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS I ponder thus, '"Tis good, but strange, His manner seems to never cliange."^^ He'll enter now his office door, And I shall hasten on once more. I want to walk those spacious halls And hear the old gong clang its calls^ Then up those flights of iron stairs And take the folks all unawares, While music floats upon the air And seems to come from everywhere: Though be it scale or exercise. To me, 'twere strains from Paradise.. I want to call on Ella J. And hear her laugh and gaily say "Well Jessie dear, how do you do! I knew that tap belonged to you; How glad I am to see you, dear! You're looking well ; take this chair here,. I'll turn the key within the lock. So we can sit and talk and rock." Then we'll review our college life, Its every petty trial and strife, And all the jolly times when we Were roommates in the I. C. B. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLIXGS And when most things we've talked about She'll bring a pack of letters out And read them over, every one. From Mildred, Kate and Lillian, And all the folks we used to know In those dear days some years ago. An hour will pass with Ella J. Ere I can tear myself away; And then I'll call on Miss Mattice And get some fruit or something nice. She never fails when I'm about To bring her tempting knickknacks out. She'll offer me her willow chair. And, maybe, let me biush her hair. As she is often wont to do, When it has had a fresh shampoo. She used to take me on her knee. When I was very young and wee, And oh the fairy tales! she'd tell. Ne'er lost on me their magic spelL And, as I older grew to be. Our friendship grew accordingly; She petted me the same, and smiled. And kissed me like I were a child. 84 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS We too, must conjure up old times And make them peal anew their chimes Since first we met till scheming fate Belabeled me a graduate. Her gaiety and ready wit Are fascinating, I admit, But I must rise to go at last, For oh the time has flown so fast! A moment more and I am gone Miss Boughton next to call upon. Her pleasant manner and bright smile Are making sunshine all the while. Her noble life and gentle ways I think of now as in school days, A fair example to uphold, For true is she, and good as gold. I'll seek her recitation room, Where she'll be sitting all alone Correcting papers at her desk — A tedious, tiresome, nightly, task. I'll pause a momerft at the door That I have entered oft before With the brilliant class that proudly flew Canary bright and dainty blue. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLIXGS S^ Would it be rigbt to thus intrude Upon her thougbtful solitude? My heart responds with joyful throb And straightway bids me turn the knob. Such memories! come crowding back O'er recollection's gleaming track, For was it not in this same room Our budding minds were wont to bloom? 'Twas here we learned philosophy. And physical geography, And rhetoric, and literature; Delightful, in those days of yore. We studied ancient history. And civil government, ah me. This one, I thought was such a bore; It daily caused me sighs galore. We never! never! could agree In political economy; Such grave discussions every day! Each claimed the right to have his saj Each had his own opinions too, Expressed, debated, stronger grew. Some heated arguments arose, (Among the boys, as you'd suppose). 86 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS They did excel (the least wee bit) In this, and were so proud of it; But we denied, indignantly, The boys' superiority. When the floor was held by some bright youth We girls would oft retire, in truth, W^ith flashing eyes and burning cheek, To have our argument called weak. But Latin, made those same boys frown; The girls would smile and settle down Some puzzling verb to conjugate Or Latin sentence to translate. Ah yes, this is that room of old. Whose wondrous half can not be told; The objects all so like themselves, Long rows of books upon the shelves. The wooden maps are one and all Still hanging on the clean white wall; Here stands the dressed up manikin. In yonder safe, the skeleton; The old electrical machine Stands yonder, by whose side is seen The air pump which would seldom work But freakishly its duty shirk. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 87 i see the same old Braille slates, The seats where sat my dearest mates, Our polished desks, and things like that, And there's the seat in which I sat. The teacher's desk is standing there With such an intellectual air, Beheaped, bepiled, bestrewn with books And papers which improve its looks. Behind it, in her self-same place, Miss Boughton, with her smiling face. Will welcome me in words most kind. While all these thoughts flash through my mind. I'll linger here until at last A pleasant hour has swiftly passed; And then the music rooms must all Receive a hasty little call. The rooms I took my lessons in, Piano first, then mandolin. Then all the practice rooms where we. The students, worked so zealously. How many battles here we won Throughout the day, from sun to sun. While practicing in smiles or tears Through many weeks, and months, and years. H THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS The old walls seem to ring again With many a familiar strain. And as I touch those yielding keys, The tones that live once more, are these: ThB same that gave, in by-gone years, Ambition, hope, and doubts, and fears. Laborious, happy hours were they ^ Spent at these pianos every day. Reluctantly, I'll leave it all To visit next the concert hall. This room, we call the chapel too; How tine 'twill look as I pass through! Suspended, in its lofty heights Are clusters of electric lights That flood the room with brilliancy, Displaying it right gloriously; The polished floor with not a scar. The opera chairs without a mar, Upon the platform at one side The grand piano opened wide, Where nervous fingers, half afraid, In past recitals lightly played Or boldly dashed the practiced hand, That fairly shook the firm old grand. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 8» Again, the soul of genius stirred When, like the voice of some sweet bird. The player made those trembling keys Sing out such thrilling melodies. Majestic in appearance grand, There does our tine pipe organ stand, I fain would hear its mellow tone, But mute it stands, for once alone, Surrounded by the empty seats Where sit the choir that daily meets To practice many a chorus song, Some light, some difficult and long. The choir have very much to do With chapel exercises too. Who'd think, to see us rise, with grace And dignity and sober face. To sing an anthem or a hymn. What fun we had while learning them; For in the morning's sacred tunes Lurks not a hint of afternoons, When the stubborn basses wouldn't try Because they thought it went too high. And when the altos tried their part The witty tenors acted smart THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS And slyly sang cute parodies To those enchanting melodies. And when it came their time to sing Sometimes they wouldn't know a thing; The prim sopranos, listening well. Were called upon the words to tell ; The teacher then would turn and frown And call the giggling tenors down. For all this chaos, fun, and wit. And sometimes we had much of it, The choir accomplished, every day, A wondrous lot, I'm proud to say. I'll slowly close the chapel door And turn my thoughts elsewhere once more. The students' rooms around the hall Must now be entered, one and all. Through open transoms, floating come Familiar voices' merry hum. While peals of rippling laughter ring, And, now and then, they stop to sing. And, as I enter every room, The atmosphere seems full of bloom. And life, and youth, and hopefulness, And blithesome, girlish carelessness. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 91 And oh the joy of seeing there Those happy girls, so bright and fair! Nowhere seem faces quite so sweet Or girls so pleasant and so neat. Their hearts are full of sympathy, And love, and youthful gaiety; Too strong and true to break or die, Their friendship, with its golden tie. Here's Lizzie K. with her dark hair And smiling lips and face so fair! Her dear white hand I'll warmly shake And kiss her, just for old time's sake. With fluffy hair and rosy cheeks And voice that's music when it speaks, Miss Vena, with a heart so true, Comes up, old friendship to renew. I'm greeted now by sunny Beth, Whose loving arms most take my breath; A loyal girl, this sweet brunette. And one I shall not soon forget. Here's jolly Leta, full of glee And fond of gay society; "I'm right delighted to see you!" And chere is quiet Stella, too! 92 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS And Edith, stately girl is she And dignified as she can be. And here comes modest Lois, hark. She sings as sweetly as a lark. What means this pair of noisy feet And arms that snatch me from my seat? 'Tis Lizzie Gorden! greeting me, Whose beaming countenance I see. She'll try to tell me how I'm missed, And many an Irish phrase she'll twist; She'll doubtless ask me to adore Their "polished rugs" and "Brussels floor." And there is Effie! dear old girl With silken tresses all in curl; And Susie, delicate and pale. Ambitious, but so very frail. Here's Tillie! with her peaceful mind And great big heart so good and kind. Always a friend when one's in need — "I'm glad to see you, glad indeed!" I'll then miss from among them here My class mates who to me were dear; And other names, my thoughts unfold. Of many precious friends of old. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 93 The rooms are neat and clean as wax; Not one its old time freshness lacks. Inviting are the shapely beds So clean and smooth neath snowy spreads; The curtains white as angel wings, The stands all strewn with little things. While bits of dainty fancy work In every nook and corner lurk. Such gorgeous pillows they have made In every pattern, size, and shade. For charming rooms, a window seat Must have for prettiness complete. The walls bedecked with ornaments Of wondrous taste but small expense; Artistic'ly is all arranged — Ah yes, their brightness is unchanged. Refinement hovering everywhere Gives all a wholesome, homelike air. That love for beauty, warmth and cheer Exists nowhere more than right here. The rooms I used to call my own Have still their welcome, sunny tone; To me they seem like home, sweet home. And some how, bid me cease to roam. 94 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 'Twas here those happy times were spent When boxes that our mothers sent Crammed full of goodies, rich and rare, Prepared with so much thought and care, Were opened, oh so eagerly! And served with much hilarity. One cannot but blithe school days miss When thinking over all of this. But I must hasten on again To follow thought's unceasing train, Descend the stairs, and, I presume. Just peep into the dining-room, A room so large and clean and grand Where twelve long tables always stand — This table here, 'tis number four, Is where I sat in days of yore. A spotless cloth each table wears Surrounded by a score of chairs, Where hearty youths and maidens dined On wholesome food of every kind. And lots of golden butter spread The heaped up plates of snowy bread, And fragrant coffee, steaming, poured, For we enjoyed the best of board. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 95 Methinks I see our dear Miss Yates As by the door she stands and waits. No kinder heart is there that beat Nor woman's influence more sweet; Well loved by all the school is she, Housekeeper of the I. C. B. Beneath whose supervision fair Sweet cleanliness reigns everywhere. Back through the hall I'll stroll once more And stopping at an outside door Step out to take one turn at least Round the veranda on the east. The yard is full of snow just now, It burdens every twig and bough, And fills the arbor vitae hedge And mounts the window's wide stone ledge. No human foot as yet has trod On this fair mantle, laid by God O'er these loved grounds from gate to gate, Unbroken and immaculate. But thought recalls the golden spring When glorious birds begin to sing Their sweetest songs among the trees In modulating, minor keys. 96 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS The softly sighing, dreamy pines That gently sway in murmuring winds Are gathering music all the day To render in their low, sweet way. Long, shady walks wind neath the trees And wander thither, where they please; And Nature weaves a carpet green Of earth's new velvet gown, between. The deep green hedge that lines the fence Guards all in silent vigilance, And in the midst of this fair spot The college stands, and mars it not But rather adds a hundred fold To all this beauty, rich and old. Yes, Heaven spreads her choicest blue In smiling skies, old school, o'er you. And like the flow of some full tide From your stone walls on every side. Through open windows and through doors A constant flood of music pours. Yes, all these things I'll think and do When 1 get back, old school, to you. Thus, did I let my fancy play While I was speeding on my way. THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 9^7 The distance now was nearly gone; I urged my phantom chariot on. And soon the college hove in sight All splendor in its brilliant light. The main part with its rambling wings. Long verandas and such things All looked so homelike and so grand, Instinctively, I waved my hand. The stars that twinkled in the sky Smiled cunningly, I knew not why; But as we nearer, nearer drew, More rapidly my chariot flew; And as we skimmed the college gate Swift dawned on me my dreadful fate. "Stop Wind," I cried, "and let me off!" Then came the old familiar scoff. I grabbed the branches of a tree In hope that it would rescue me. But all my efforts proved in vain And I was hurried on again. Now I could hear the choir boys sing Up in their rooms in the south wing. And through the north wing windows see The girls who chatted merrily. «8 THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS Half frantic now, I tried td leap But fell, exhausted, iii a heap, Convinced that 'twere of no avail. The girls, they heard my bitter wail. One raised her window and looked sad And said the night was surely bad, Then drew it down and said in fright, "My! how that wind does moan tonight!" The college with its memories dear Was fast receding in the rear, When suddenly the college bell, (To me, 'twere like my funeral knell) High in its cupola so proud, Rang out in tones both clear and loud. It rang for silence, and fdr sleep, And each "ding, dong," was rich and deep. Liike magic, all that blaze of light Ceased shining for another night, And Slumber with her peaceful dream And perfect silence reigned supreme. ^'Come, dry your eyes, don't be a fool, There 're grander things than that old school ; I'll take you clear around the earth!" Remarked the Wind, convulsed With THOUGHT-BIRD WARBLINGS 99 mirth. •'I'll show you all this grand old world, Its every flag to breeze unfurled, Its snow-capped peaks, and oceans wide With rugged coasts and rolling tide." Too disappointed to reply, At first I could but sob and cry. "'There's not a phase of earthly bliss," I said, "that can atone for this." "'Look," purred the Wind with gentle grace. And strove to dry my tear stained face, "See Italy, the fairest land Beneath the heavens blue and grand! Its dreamy hills and perfect skies!" I would not look, but shut my eyes; For, "What care I for mountains high. Or fleecy clouds in unknown sky. Pacific Ocean or Japan, China, or the Isle of Man, For Egypt, or Siberia; Oh, take me to America!" Thus many weeks and long months passed Before I reached home land. At last jVIy chariot stopped, and I was home From that strange trip o'er land and foam. SIXTH DIVISION PEN DIVERSIONS A Letter in Rhyme to a School Friend of Mine. iSoliloquy and Postal Dun. My Ixciptance. Old Santa. Tale of A Stick-pin. Farmer Boot-Lover. Song of the Aurora Circle. Song— My Heart For a Curl. :Song — Maqii oketa. THOUGHT-miip WARBLIXGS l^S A LETTER IN RKYME TO A SCHOOL FRIEND OF MINE Dear Friend: I wish to express thanfes for your kindness In taking the work assigned you. I'm loath to excuse folks who would refuse To do what I ask them to do. But for the most part they have shown a good heart And gladly accepted their work. *Tis pleasing to hnd them willing and kind: So few strive their duty to shirk. Of course I shall wait for you to debate The question of rhythm or prose ; But feel very sure which form will endure; Though you're still in doubt, I suppose. Whichever it be I clearly foresee Your product will be something good. The truth is, I feel you said a good deal In saying you'