^^<^ 
 
 .^'\ 
 
 
 ^ v" .'•<■• c> .0^ 'ISA:* > 
 
 0^ -n*- -.Tcwf;^ . 
 
 
 
 r-^* 
 
 «5°^ 
 
bookofcommonversOOberr 
 
Copyright, 1914 
 ALBERT L. BERRY 
 
 DFC 24 i9l4 
 
 Post Print Shop 
 
 Chicago 
 
 
 C1.A393303 
 
To my cousin 
 PAULINE SAGE 
 
Go, gently knock at a friendly door, 
 
 And if tKey let you in, 
 Sit down witK them, by their fireside, 
 
 And try their love to win. 
 
After the an^ry trade of the mart, 
 And the world has ^one to rest, 
 After the stru^^le, friction and ^rind, 
 And you feel, you have done your best. 
 
 After the halsers that chain you, 
 Are slackened for the day. 
 And the white li^ht in your faces, 
 Shows the stru^^le and the pay. 
 
 Then into nights quiet harbor. 
 You drop care's anchor down. 
 And somewhere o'er the border, 
 The melodies resound. 
 
 May my untuned son^s invite you. 
 Though it only be a line. 
 Some response and courage ^ive you. 
 O'er the parapet of time. 
 
The World Made Anew. 
 
 'Twas tKe ebbing tide of ni^Kt, beside 
 The coucK of the sick I sat and wearily 
 I watched. Will the mom ne'er come? Ag,ain 
 I looked, but all was darkness, as before, 
 Only the tiny flash of a ni^ht-fly's torch 
 Was seen. The deep stillness that over 
 The ocean broods, when the winds sleep, was 
 Broken by the noisy crowing of a 
 Barn-cock, and all was stiller than before. 
 
 Soon a film of g,ray softened the blackness. 
 The fabric of the nig,ht was bein^ unwoven, 
 And the Creator was infusing, as with 
 His breath, the first dim li^ht of mom. 
 One by one the drowsy stars slipped from 
 Their moorings and v/ere lost, save one ^reat star 
 That lingered in the west like a porch-lamp, 
 To watch with me the coming of the morn. 
 
 There was no form or color yet, but as 
 The li^ht ^rew stronger, the deep outlines, 
 Of the woods, and far away the ru^g,ed 
 Mountains in umbered dullness, came into view. 
 The mist came up from the valleys. The east 
 
Was turning to a silvery ^ray. The firmament 
 Be^an to sKow its blue. The clouds that sleep 
 Upon the mountain tops, like ^reat white 
 Sea birds be^an to move. 
 
 A cool mist came up from the valleys, 
 And over the meadows, morn with silver 
 Sandals swiftly ran, and in her footsteps, 
 The dandelions like golden stars came forth. 
 Slowly the cattle resting in the valleys. 
 Rose and stretched their limbs and the steam 
 From their couch on earth's warm breast encircled 
 Them. The wild flowers opened their eyelids 
 And breathed their fragrance to the woods. 
 
 The silvered east now turned to flaming g,old, 
 And lon^ rich plumes sun-colored mounted hi^h. 
 The wild birds son^ was heard and every 
 Bush and tree-top was a minstrel harp. 
 Son^ raced through the woods and the golden 
 Whips of the sun drove every vestige of the 
 Ni^ht away. 
 
 In the corner of my window a spider had 
 Woven his web. The li^ht came and thrust 
 Its rosy finders through and turned the web 
 
To cords of ^old, nor jostled nor displaced 
 A thread. And the knotted spider chuckled 
 And laughed as he stretched his tired le^s. 
 From a chink in a crannied wall, a butterfly 
 Crept forth with win^s close-folded, a sun-beam 
 Came as it fluttered in mid-air, its pinions 
 Burnished into ^old. 
 
 In a marshy field where cattle tread, a lily lifted 
 Its fair face in purity, "And Solomon in all 
 His ^lory was not arrayed like one of these". 
 And now the world was full of li^ht, the 
 Great ocean drank its fill. I saw it creep 
 Beneath a hed^e and kiss a violet fair. 
 Then I blew out my sputtering taper, 
 For, I had seen the world made anew. 
 
 I had seen the ni^ht in its grandeur. 
 
 And the falling of the dew; 
 
 I had seen the li^ht come out of the darkness, 
 
 And the world all made anew. 
 
 I had seen the stars, scatterd o'er the heavens, 
 As a sower scatters his ^rain; 
 I had seen the forest primeval. 
 All come into bein^ a^ain. 
 
I had seen color far richer, 
 Than ^old and emerald and blue, 
 Touch the cra^s and the lowliest valleys, 
 As He colored the world anew. 
 
 I had seen Him write His promise, 
 On the blue o£ heaven above, 
 In the covenant of the rainbow. 
 And the promise of His love. 
 
 And the heart of man He chan^eth, 
 From the false unto the true, 
 From this life to the eternal, 
 From the old unto the new. 
 
The Vision. 
 
 A plowman toiled all day behind Kis weary ox, 
 No son^ within his breast, as furrows turned, 
 With eyes cast down, he labored on, till through 
 Heavens tent o£ blue, a star in pity burned. 
 
 Another plowman came, within his heart a 
 
 prayer. 
 He saw the ripened ^rain and heard the reapers 
 
 son^, 
 And as he toiled the clouds vntk ^reat w^hite 
 
 sails. 
 Brought argosies of hope and love alon^. 
 
 A |,alley slave, with fettered feet and head 
 Bowed low, bends to his task no vision fair, 
 Of home or loving kiss waits his return. 
 No wife, nor child, nor evening prayer. 
 
 But through the sur^in^, sea another boat, 
 With weathered seaman tu^^in^ at the oar, 
 Sweeps through the ^ale, vision ne'er dimmed, 
 Till beacon lights show him his welcome door. 
 
 A w^oman sat at close of day with tired eyes. 
 Her face was drawn, her lips were cold as dew, 
 Then looking up she saw a tiny star, 
 A cry went up — Oh God my faith renew. 
 
 8 
 
The Sonfe of the Wild Bird. 
 
 A wild bird came to my garden wall, 
 On its head was a golden cap, 
 A wild birds son^ sKe san^ to me, 
 And a feather she flun^ in my lap. 
 
 Come and live with me, I said to the bird, 
 Sin^ not to the woods alone. 
 Come build your nest in my hawthorn bush, 
 And make my heart your home. 
 
 I love the woods, said the w^ild bird. 
 And the temples built for me, 
 I love to hear the rhythmic son^. 
 Of the brooks as they trot to the sea. 
 
 I love to swin^ in the ^reat tall pines, 
 When their limbs are bare to the bone. 
 For I know that God is listening, 
 Though I'm sin^in^ all alone. 
 
 The leaves, she said, are my curtain ^reen. 
 And my door is never latched. 
 The moon is my silent watchman 
 And with stars my roof is thatched. 
 
 So the bird flew away to the lonely woods. 
 But her charm did not depart; 
 I lost the plume she flun^ to me. 
 But her son^ is still in my heart. 
 
Our Awakening. 
 
 WKat is tKis sound like tKe deep sea's roar, 
 When its wKite teeth tear tKe bar? 
 Have men wKo swore to be brother-men, 
 Gone mad with the talons of war? 
 
 What has become of the better a^e, 
 When the tramping to war was naught? 
 When we laughed and hooted and shook our head 
 At men who quarreled and fought? 
 
 Are we white-faced only, but savage at heart. 
 Barbarians and Heathen and Huns, 
 Who thirst to slaughter our brother-men. 
 With shrapnel from death dealing ^uns? 
 
 Have we sickened of peace and tired of love, 
 And secretly longed to fi^ht, 
 And turned the world to a jungle a^ain. 
 In the space of a single ni^ht? 
 
 Oh rulers ^reat, who call forth men to die. 
 Men with clean hands, who love not fame; 
 Have ye no fear of God, who strips 
 From Lords, their rule and glorious name? 
 10 
 
Beyond your rule, beyond tKe loom of time, 
 Beyond tKe cry of victory, or ^roan of slain, 
 Beyond your kingdoms, empires, tKrones; 
 God lives and will forever rei^n. 
 
 Rest. 
 
 Out of the east came tKe morning 
 WitK tKe mist and tKe sKiverin^ sky; 
 Out of tKe nortK came tKe curling smoke, 
 And tKe wild-^oose plaintive cry. 
 
 Out of tKe west came tKe rainbow, 
 And tKe plowman at twili^Kt Kour; 
 Out of tKe soutK tKe wKip-poor- will's call, 
 And tKe smell of tKe jasmine flower. 
 
 Out of tKe marsKy Nile tKe lotus came, 
 WitK a blossom pinned to its breast, 
 And under tKe Ked^e tKe violet blooms. 
 And under tKe sod tKere is rest. 
 
 11 
 
Only A Fiddler. 
 
 Only a fiddler, and he went his way 
 Down the road where the children play, 
 Sometimes sad and sometimes ^ay, 
 For he was fiddling his life away. 
 
 The children loved to hear him play, 
 And danced and san^ as he passed their way. 
 And even the birds would hush their son^, 
 And listen to him as he trudged alon^. 
 
 Ne'er had he heard a symphony ^rand. 
 But was always content with the villag,e band. 
 No organ's voice with its cadence roll. 
 Nor chorister's son^ had stirred his soul. 
 
 The sick he cheered, and the lonely and sad. 
 And soothed the pain of a crippled lad; 
 Hard was the stru^^le as he ^rew ^ray. 
 For he knew he had fiddled his life away. 
 
 Oh, how many lives are fiddled away! 
 Lives that should count in the battle array. 
 Lives that lack mettle to grapple the thing,. 
 And lead other lives to the court of the Kin^. 
 
 12 
 
Lives tKat ^rasp not the reins nor the snaffle bars 
 That Lear no burdens and show no scars, 
 That blaze no pathways nor suffer loss, 
 Nor stru^g,le, nor triumph, nor kiss the cross. 
 
 Only fiddlers — we ^o our way 
 Down the road like children at play, 
 Sometimes sad and sometimes ^ay, 
 Thus we fiddle our lives away. 
 
 TKe God that Dwelletk in Thee. 
 
 For God is the God of the east, 
 And God is the God of the west. 
 And though my lot, be the common lot, 
 I know that He knows best. 
 
 For God is God of the mountains, 
 And God is God of the sea. 
 But the greatest joy that man can know. 
 Is the God that dwelleth in thee. 
 
 13 
 
The Castles We Built in Dreamland. 
 
 When the evening came with its twilight hour, 
 And the birds were asleep in the heather; 
 She climbed in my lap my baby-^irl, 
 And we went to dream-land together. 
 
 To dreamland we went while the crickets san^, 
 And the Katy-dids said their prayers, 
 And the pattering rain as it fell on the roof, 
 Was the angels coming down the stairs. 
 
 So we san^ and rocked to the tick of the clock, 
 And beautiful castles we made; 
 And their domes of blue we colored true, 
 With a love that would never fade. 
 
 And fairies danced in the castles we built, 
 By the old moons silvery beams. 
 And lullabies sweet kissed her slumbering cheek, 
 As she entered the land of dreams. 
 
 And now I sit in the twili^t ^ray. 
 When the birds are asleep in the heather; 
 And live a^ain in the castles we built, 
 The castles we built together. 
 
 14 
 
The Flower Dance. 
 
 *Twas a misty mom and tlie moon Kun^ low, 
 And the stars had all ^one to bed, 
 The dew was putting its crown on tKe flowers, 
 While the sparrows chattered o'erhead. 
 
 From my window I heard a tiny band, 
 All perched on a sunflower tall; 
 And the lawn below was bustle and stir. 
 For the flowers were having a ball. 
 
 The band was made up o£ katydids. 
 
 With a locust and a cricket ^lum, 
 
 While a tree-toad pounded his stomach ^reen. 
 
 And thought he was playing a drum. 
 
 A beetle-bu^ waved his baton hi^h. 
 And the opening march called out, 
 While a hollyhock and a little primrose, 
 Were ^aily waltzing about. 
 
 A dandelion threw her purse of ^old, 
 Into a stately wall-flower's lap, 
 And danced the reel with a dahlia ^rand. 
 While a daffodil held her cap. 
 
 15 
 
I could hear the sweep of the feathery pink, 
 As she lifted her silken skirt, 
 And danced away with a trumpet flower; 
 A coxcomb said — "She's a flirt". 
 
 A pansy rich, with an apron of blue, 
 With a sweet-william came in late, 
 While a cardinal climber, with a scarlet coat. 
 Welcomed all at the garden ^ate. 
 
 A bashful silk poppy, with crinkling ^own. 
 Took the arm of a larkspur tall. 
 And galloped away with such charming ^race, 
 She was really the belle of the ball. 
 
 A morning ^lory and a little tea-rose 
 Were partners in a ^ay minuette, 
 While a meadow-star and an orchid rare 
 Made up a charming set. 
 
 An a^eratum, with sparkling ^ems, 
 All pinned in her frizzled hair, 
 With a marigold was trying to waltz, 
 While she flirted with a cyclamen fair. 
 
 And dainty sweet peas with phryg,ian caps. 
 Were dancing w^ith the salvias tall, 
 
 16 
 
While the foxgloves, as they tripped away, 
 Threw their bells o'er the garden wall. 
 
 Then the katydids tired and the crickets too, 
 And the beetle-bu^ ^ot very ^lum, 
 But what put an end to the flower dance, 
 Was the tree-toad b'ostin^ his drum. 
 
 Memories. 
 
 Oh! when days sequence sweet returning comes, 
 And to the harbor of thy waking thoughts, 
 The evening tides brin^ home familiar sails; 
 If midst that ever chan^in^ restless fleet, 
 My ea^er sail comes battling to thy shore, 
 May it be no rude craft that thou must tie, 
 Lest shifting winds should carry it away, 
 But a true bark, v/ith argosies of love 
 That thou canst draw upon thy 
 Memories shore, secure. 
 
 17 
 
The Great Bi^ Soldiers. 
 
 WKo are tKese ^reat Li^ soldiers, 
 TKat knock at my cKamber door 
 With drum and sticks and paper caps? 
 I know I've seen them before. 
 
 That's Sonny-hoy with his wooden sword, 
 And Marjorie, and little Dan; 
 That's Bobbie with his chest thrown out 
 Like a regular soldier man. 
 
 And there they ^o to beat of the drum, 
 So youn^, so brig,ht and so g,ay, 
 And I pray to God that their only war, 
 May be the war of play. 
 
 To them I've lon^ since si\rrendered, 
 And the terms which I impart, 
 Are that they shall keep me forever, 
 In the prison of their heart. 
 
 Oh! those wonderful little prisons, 
 Where their gossamer fancies take win^s, 
 And the magical dreams of childhood, 
 Are woven into beautiful things. 
 
 18 
 
Where tKe "bears and tKe elfs and tKe dolpKins, 
 And lions and timers that bite, 
 All live in those dear little prisons, 
 With the fairies that dance at ni^ht. 
 
 Where the bars are made of laughter, 
 And the locks by the God above, 
 And the only key that fits them, 
 Is the key of a mother's love. 
 
 Then march away, my soldiers brave, 
 While hope rides by, so fair, 
 May your day be^in with a morning hymn, 
 And end with an evening prayer. 
 
 19 
 
The Wonderful Workshop of God. 
 
 To the deep mid-wood in winter I went 
 WKen the forests were stripped to the bone, 
 And the tempest's son^ was all that I heard 
 And only a black wolf at home. 
 
 There I di^^ed a ^rave for a comrade. 
 And deep 'neath the crust and sod, 
 "With only the li^ht of a ^low-worm 
 I found the work-shop of God. 
 
 Oh, that wonderful, wonderful work-shop 
 Under the snow and the ice and the frost, 
 Where the dew of the ocean is fathered 
 And not a sunbeam is lost. 
 
 Where earth's richest robe is fashioned, 
 
 And the flame of the golden-rod 
 
 Is made from the mould of a|,es, 
 
 In this wonderful work-shop of God. 
 
 Where the violet comes from the dead leaves* 
 
 ^rave, 
 And the orchids and lilies from clay, 
 
 20 
 
And the rose that tKe maiden wears on Ker 
 
 breast, 
 Takes its fragrance from tKe wooded decay. 
 
 WKere tKe silver tKat lines tKe LeacK leaves, 
 And tKe blossom of tKe sumac red 
 All ^et tKeir life and tKeir beauty 
 WKere winter Kas buried Ker dead. 
 
 And I tKou^Kt of tKe wonders of nature, 
 And tKe kingdom under tKe sod 
 WKere tKe loom is ever kept spinning, 
 By tKe gracious finders of God. 
 
 And I tKou^Kt of tKe cKan^e of tKe fallen leaf, 
 WKen it Kas reacKed its ^oal, 
 And Kow He could cKan^e a Kuman life, 
 And wKat He could make of a soul. 
 
 21 
 
Triumphal, 
 
 Hi^K on cra^^ed mountain, 
 An eag,le Kad builded Ker nest; 
 Where even the wolf dare not venture, 
 And only the clouds came to rest. 
 
 Where the tops of pinnacled pine trees, 
 
 Were waving far below, 
 
 And all was barren, forsaken, 
 
 Save a star-flower's bloom through the snow. 
 
 But a storm with a lashing fury. 
 
 Swept her nest and her youn^ from, the cra^s; 
 
 Left the ea^le pinioned and bleeding, 
 
 And her nest but fluttering ra^. 
 
 Then the ea^e climbed higher and higher, 
 Till only heavens blue was her dome, 
 And the black-thorn her only shelter, 
 There she builded a^ain a home. 
 
 I had a friend who was wounded in battle, 
 Run through with a keen saber blade, 
 And they trampled over his body, 
 And left him where he laid. 
 
 22 
 
ButhestancKedtKebloodfrom tKe ^apin^ wound, 
 And crawled o'er the dead on the field, 
 And fought his life's greatest battle. 
 Till the enemy had to yield. 
 
 Oh ever soaring ea^le. 
 Building a^ain your nest on hi^h, 
 And stru^^lin^, wounded comrade, 
 Whom the world had left to die. 
 
 Both fi^htin^ anew your battle, 
 Thoug,h bleeding from the strife. 
 Ever climbing upward, upward, 
 In the conflict of daily life. 
 
 23 
 
Wherever tKe Harbor Be. 
 
 Oh tKe world is wide, but love is strong, 
 And tKe Keavens are Ki^K above, 
 And every cloud, witK its silken sail. 
 Is filled witK a FatKer's love. 
 
 He knows no east, Ke knows no west. 
 Nor clime, nor days, nor years. 
 And wKere Ke toucKes tKe blue of Keaven. 
 A burning star appears. 
 
 He notices even tKe sparrows fall, 
 And colors tKe butter-flies win^, 
 He li^Kts tKe g,low worm's little lamp, 
 And teacKes tKe red bird to sin^. 
 
 So my little bark, I'll trust to Him, 
 
 As it rides tKrou^K a tideless sea. 
 
 For tKe cKart Ke kno^vs and tKe rudder Kolds, 
 
 WKerever tKe Karbor be. 
 
 24 
 
The Revealing, of God. 
 
 I've seen Him ride through tKe Keavens at nig,Kt, 
 
 With a majesty all sublime, 
 
 And the sparks that gleamed from His chariot 
 
 wheels, 
 Where the stars in the cycles of time. 
 
 I've seen Him place a diamond rare, 
 
 On the breast of the lowliest flower. 
 
 As He wrote His name with a rainbow's pen, 
 
 In sun-colors after the shower. 
 
 I've heard His voice in the tempest ^rand, 
 As He swept through the forest deep. 
 And the rain-son^s were the lullabies, 
 That san^ the world to sleep » 
 
 I've seen Him open the doors of morn, 
 And flame the mountains with ^old, 
 And the mists that fettered the valleys low, 
 Like an incense of prayer arose. 
 
 I've seen Him draw the fold-skirts of ni^t, 
 And the world curled down to sleep. 
 And to Bethlehem's heart He draws men's lives, 
 Who are toiling with weary feet. 
 
 23 
 
Waiting at the Open Bars. 
 
 I leaned on tKe bars and listened, 
 And the world with its sorrow and tears, 
 Came out of the night's deep stillness. 
 And told me its wrongs and its fears. 
 
 Came up from the weary, worn city, 
 With its stru^^les, its battles and fi^ht, 
 And told me its soul's deep secrets. 
 On that quiet summer ni|,ht. 
 
 Told me how hard was the battle. 
 
 How fierce was the conflict and strife, 
 
 How the world foug,ht, for ^old and mammon. 
 
 How little it valued a life. 
 
 How cold was the hand of the victor, 
 How ^reed turned love to despair. 
 Of the thousands that stru^^led and labored, 
 With their burdens of sorrow and care. 
 
 I leaned on the bars and listened. 
 And out from the star-burning west, 
 I heard a voice from the upland, 
 "Come unto me and rest". 
 
 26 
 
"Come unto me with your failures, 
 Come unto me with your wrongs, 
 And your burdens I will lighten, 
 And your sorrows I'll turn to son^s**. 
 
 Then spoke the voice from the upland, 
 As soft as the son^ of the stars, 
 "Thy Saviour — God is waiting, 
 Yes, waiting at the open bars". 
 
 27 
 
The Joy of the Second Mile. 
 
 I met, as tKe day was closing, 
 A pilgrim weary and worn, 
 And Ke looked so very tired, 
 WitK tKe burden Ke Kad borne. 
 
 And we sat at tKe foot-Kills to^etKer, 
 
 Far off we could Kear tKe sea, 
 
 And Ke asked as Ke took up Kis burden a^ain, 
 
 "Would you walk a mile witK me." 
 
 And wKen tKe mile was ended, 
 We took up tKe burden once more. 
 And anotKer mile, I walked witK Kim, 
 And part of tKe burden bore. 
 
 TKen a smile came over Kis face divine. 
 And Kis countenance sKone as tKe day, 
 And a li^Kt illumined Kis patK from above, 
 Like tKe patK from tKe milky way. 
 
 And tKe stars came out and san^ for us, 
 And antKems came up from tKe lea. 
 And I knew from Kis voice and tKe li^Kt in Kis face, 
 *Twas tKe Master of Galilee. 
 
 28 
 
Then, Oh! the joy of the second mile, 
 As I walked with my Master alon^, 
 For instead of carrying a burden now, 
 My heart was carrying a son^. 
 
 Had I all the riches of Ophir 
 
 And all the wealth of the Nile, 
 
 I'd ^ive them all — bear the burden alone, 
 
 For the joy of that second mile. 
 
 And now, I know the meaning, 
 And the blessing that each can ^ain, 
 If thy brother ask thee to ^o a mile, 
 Go with thy brother twain. 
 
 29 
 
The Fli^Kt of Autumn. 
 
 T'was tKe golden prime of the autumn, 
 WKen the piping quails come near, 
 The thistle had thrown her crown away, 
 In the mellow atmosphere. 
 
 The forest was turning to umber brown, 
 And the fields were penciled with ^old, 
 The fanes where the w^ood nymphs worship, 
 Were fading and ^rowin^ old. 
 
 The closing day had cast its cares, 
 On a sunbeam that stole through the trees, 
 And the feathered-folk were ^ossipin^, 
 And lau^hin^ with the breeze. 
 
 The alder wore its saffron frock, 
 
 And the ^ray on the willow was seen, 
 
 The barberry was strin^in^ her flaming beads, 
 
 And the laurel alone was ^reen. 
 
 The crooning voice of the drowsy rooks, 
 In the smoky woods was heard. 
 And the fluttering leaves that clun^ to the trees, 
 Like the win^ of a fettered bird. 
 30 
 
Then a savage came with a frosted beard, 
 And a cutlass that gleamed in the day, 
 But the autumn has kicked up her golden heels, 
 And quietly galloped away. 
 
 31 
 
A Son^ of The Street. 
 
 A son^ came up from a narrow street, 
 Like a ribton flun^ to tKe air, 
 Twas tKe son^ of a lonely orpKan child, 
 And the words were an orphan's prayer. 
 
 An old ^ray monk with a frizzled cowl, 
 Girded close, with a knotted cord, 
 Bowed low on the stones and counted his beads, 
 And fervently prayed to his Lord. 
 
 For in all the years he'd been saying mass. 
 At the monastery of St. Crole, 
 No son^ like this, had touched his heart. 
 Or lifted his weary soul. 
 
 The Queen rode by and heard the son^, 
 And stooped and kissed the ^irl, 
 And round her neck, a circlet she clasped. 
 And the circlet contained a pearl. 
 
 So the son^ was not lost in the narrow street. 
 For the old monk carried it lon^. 
 And the Queen remembered the orphan child. 
 And she never forgot the son^. 
 
 32 
 
A Memory. 
 
 To S. F. 
 
 I knew a ^irl, witK a pure wKite soul, 
 And a Keart that knew no wron^, 
 And the ebb and flow o£ Ker joyous life, 
 Was the music of a shepherd's son^. 
 
 She sparkled as the choicest wine, 
 And was dainty as a flower, 
 And the brightness of her repartee. 
 Was refreshing as a shower. 
 
 I hear her rippling laughter. 
 As if it were today. 
 And her voice in musical cadence. 
 Like a beautiful roundelay. 
 
 I see her coming down the stairs, 
 With a charm I'll ne'er forget, 
 I see her trip through the lighted hall. 
 With the ^race of the minuette. 
 
 Ah — that was many years a^o. 
 But her memory I adore, 
 Like the echo of a serenade. 
 When love was her troubadour. 
 33 
 
Tell Me the Stories Once More. 
 
 I told him the story of the little brown bear, 
 That lived on the mountain side, 
 And his chubby finders clun^ to mine, 
 And his eyes were opened wide. 
 
 I told him the tale o£ the cunning old fox, 
 That they never could catch in a trap, 
 And he laughed at me with his twinkling eyes, 
 And cuddled close in my lap. 
 
 Then I told him of the fairies that danced at ni^ht. 
 By the lamps, which the fire-flies made, 
 And the bi^ bull-fro^, with fishing-rod le^s, 
 And the witches who were never afraid. 
 
 I told him of timers and elephants bi^. 
 
 And lions with their terrible roar. 
 
 But he only crept closer and whispered to me, 
 
 "Tell me the stories once more". 
 
 Then the storiesi told, and the crickets they san^. 
 As the old world faded from si^ht, 
 And a little wee star with a golden lamp. 
 Came to watch with him at ni^ht. 
 
 34 
 
Then his stockings I took from his velvety feet. 
 And his dress I loosened with care, 
 And his little soft ^own I slipped o'er his head, 
 With its tangle of curly brown hair. 
 
 Now he's ^one, my baby boy. 
 And I sit in the evening li^ht, 
 And wonder if that wee little star, 
 Is watching o'er him to-ni^ht. 
 
 Oh wee little star with your golden lamp, 
 Guide me I pray, to heaven's door. 
 That I may find my baby boy. 
 And tell him the stories once more. 
 
 35 
 
The Parson Was Walking With God. 
 
 *Twas the quiet ^low of the evening, 
 In the rich mid-summer time, 
 Down the road walked the village parson 
 When the fields were in their prime. 
 
 On the hills the flocks were resting, 
 And the herd had been driven home; 
 The quail to his covey was calling, 
 And the world seemed left alone. 
 
 The toil of the day had ended, 
 "With its stru^^le and its care; 
 And faith with folded pinions, 
 Was nourished with a prayer. 
 
 No one can know the ^lory. 
 The peace and the joy. as he trod. 
 For his heart was filled with a vision, 
 The parson was walking with God. 
 
 No one can measure the fullness, 
 But he who has passed under the rod; 
 And only he who has listened. 
 Can hear the footsteps of God. 
 
 36 
 
Oh! Could I Draw the Curtain 
 
 OK! could I draw the curtain, 
 And see your heart revealed, 
 I'd find an earnest lon^in^, 
 For a life that's now concealed. 
 
 A life with a richer purpose, 
 
 A life all a^low with desire, 
 
 A life that is hidden and smoldering, 
 
 And needs to be set on fire. 
 
 A life that yearns for attainments. 
 For something more than to plod; 
 To feel the ^low of the richer self. 
 And a closer communion with God. 
 
 Oh! that I mi^ht draw the curtain, 
 And free from the world's control. 
 Or open the ^ate to a fuller life. 
 That would feed your famished soul. 
 
 37 
 
A Reverie. 
 
 One ni^Kt wKen the stillness was deepest, 
 And tKe Keart tKrobs were Kushed for tKe day. 
 My bark drifted out of the harhor, 
 Till the coast lights were far away. 
 
 And I sailed to the Isles of lon^ a^o, 
 Where are riches that cannot be told, 
 And counted them over in memory's purse. 
 As a miser counts over his ^old. 
 
 And my heart in its ceaseless throbbing, 
 Like the oceans vast unrest. 
 Came back vnth its rich laden memories, 
 And the lon^in^s that filled my breast. 
 
 And I saw the winds on tiptoe run, 
 Across the shimmering deep. 
 But faith on the waves walked firmly 
 And the sea went back to sleep. 
 
 ;,V/7-Xd2 
 Lot 698 
 

 
Lot 69 
 
^^. .& 
 
°o 
 
 ^>t^ 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 V . %^ 
 
 ^°' 
 
 
 
 
 ^1 
 
 i/)k. ^^ 
 
 
015 799 549 2