.^ /. ^*\o^ ♦ < '^^r.'i oV^^^^^- ^oV^ :^^^'^ ''^'^O^ "^ College Memories and Other Rimes Much of Which Has Appeared Before in THE COLORADO COLLEGE TIGER WM. MERRELL VORIES, of the Class of 1904 'A little nonsense, now and then, Is relished by the wisest men." Published by Subscription. 1903 ^3 35 V e^'1^3 3rown UaiFersity 3fe J 5 793^ PREFATORY NOTE. Written chiefly for diversion and never honored with revision, the following doggerel is not, and does not claim to be, literature — let us save criti- cism's breath in advance. Very probably the per- petrator himself will look back upon it in years to come with anything but satisfaction. The first piece, which lends its name to the col- lection, may be taken as typical of the whole: — Three parts nonsense, to one where sense is at- tempted (and which, for that very reason, will probably appear to the reader most ridiculous). Yet, punctured though it be so thickly with faults that it resembles more the sieve than the chalice, it still goes forth with the hope that somewhere there may cling within it a drop of cheer, perhaps even a stray, suggested flavor of something higher, or at least, an atom of tonic against the "blues" and dyspepsia. Many thanks are due, and are heartily given, the friends who by encouragement, assistance, and subscriptions have made this little book possible, and to them it is gratefully dedicated. W. M. V. Colorado College, Colorado Springs, May, 1903. 5 CONTENTS FRONTISPIECE— "The Pines"— from an oil painting by the author. PAG College Memories Reuben Strawstack at the Banque A Nervous Reflex Ticknor Hall "Strike While the Iron is Hot Rough on Dutch The Real Dutch Truth The Cow A Valentine A Desperate Situation, (or the Easter Bonnet May 26, 1902 On a Basket Ball Poster The Equinoxial Storm Et tu Avis? . A Thanksgiving Nightmare The Other Point of View The Error and the Wrong The Mountain and the Seasons Anemones .... The Anemone The Pines .... To Spenser (A Sonnet) To Byron (A Sonnet) On Friendship (A Sonnet) . To D. C. M The Strenuous Life Gold or A Human Life "With Trembling Hands Uplift The Christmas Gift A Prayer .... COLLEGE MEMORIES. L I remember, I remember the night before exam., — The flick'ring midnight candle that lighted up my cram, The blurring page before me, the towel 'round my head, The doleful striking of the hours, as I sat there and read Through many a stranger volume, and unsoiled pages turned. And tried to learn the learning that erst I should have learned. I remember, I remember the room in which 'twas held,— The rows of anxious faces of students strangely quelled ; The maze of hieroglyphics chalked thickly o'er the board. With Question-points, like demons, that seemed extending toward The victims scornful fingers, and at our fright to scoff; And, like some nightmare monster, the terrifying prof. I remember, I remember, but here my mem'ry fails, (My over-burdened brain-cells refused to hold details). Unconsciously I scribbled, my mind with cram- ming drunk; I have no notion whether condition, pass, or Hunk Will mark the doubtful answers my aching brain produced : I only know exams, are o'er — and / was not ex- cused. II. I remember, I remember those Canon picnics gay Which chaperoned co-edites enjoyed each holi- day, — The hay-rides in the moonlight, the hay-ricks that broke down, The clearing of the wreckage, the weary walk to town; The delicate refreshments, abbreviated, cold. With more of bread and butter than thirty hogs could hold, — Till piles of good sandwiches went ruthlessly to waste, — 10 And scarce enough confections to get a decent taste ; And how the bramble bushes inflicted us with scratches ! And how the bugs and beetles conducted swim- ming matches In lemonade and milk pails! And how the busy ants Essayed to steal the sugar, and in the butter dance ! I remember, I remember the glorious mountain climbs, More hard upon the suff'ring feet than are these wretched rimes; How horse-back rides relieved us when language roads were rough ! How ill-learned recitations drove us to Austin's Bluff! And when examination had flunked us all, en masse, How longingly we cast our eyes upon the great Ute Pass! III. I remember, I remember how at the Barbecue, 11 Without a wing to aid me, high through the air I flew — The singing and speech-making, the beef and pumpkin pie, The pickles and the cider, peanuts and apples by The hundred, — all these good things seem little more than dross When measured by the pleasures that crown the Blanket-toss. I remember, I remember the upturned faces there, A hundred feet beneath me as I sail'd through the air ; The bird's-eye panorama, the bonfire's little spark That flickered far below me, a beacon in the dark ; The swift descent and landing, and then another flight :— I tell you, Blanket-tossing is simply out of sight! I remember, I remember the far-famed Pearsons Goat,— The night his fearful horny head upon my person smote ; His strong, sonorous bleating that to my trembling ear Seemed like approaching cyclones, and shook my frame for fear ; 12 The vigor of his bucking, his energetic butt, Outstripped the strongest slugger's most mighty upper-cut ! IV. I remember, I remember — my heart warms at the thought — The friendships, true and tender, that to my Hfe have brought Bright rays of hope's pure sunshine when threat- 'ning storms as&ailed ; True friends, whose love and loyalty and confi- dence ne'er failed — Though other men might doubt me and deem my motives wrong — And yet who never cheated me with flattery's false tongue ; True friends, who shared my struggles through bright and cloudy days, Sincere in helpful counsel as careful in their praise ; Whose friendship was not founded on selfishness or jest. But, seeing good and ill in me, strove to upbuild the best; 13 True friends — ah, yes, how could I resent, as once I did. The honest criticism 'neath which their love was hid! I remember, I remember with gratitude the debt I owe these men whose counsel has kept me from the net Of carelessness or narrowness of living and of thought. — And this I hold the lesson their type of friend- ship taught : True friends are those who help one to gain his noblest end, And he must be a helper who would be a true friend. REUBEN STRAWSTACK AT THE BANQUET. (Dedicated to Pearson's Literary Society.) I wuz lately on a visit Tew — By cracky! naow — whar is it? O, yes — Coloraddy College, Whar they feed their minds on knowledge. An' the rest uv 'em with eatin' Thet is mighty hard uv beatin'. I wuz thar tew see my cousin, (Guess I've got about a dozen — But I mean the sorter witty One thet grow'd up in the city), Who belongs tew a sas-si-ty Thet wuz givin' uv a mighty Monstrous banquet on the night I wuz thar. He 'lowed 'twas right Fur tew take me ; so I went Without diggin' up a cent ! Wall, the weather it wuz mild Ez a little, sleepin' child ; Not a cloud wuz in the skies ; Yew could almost hear the rise Uv the spring-proclaimin' sap In the trees, whose winter nap. Drowsy-like, wuz almost over; Here an' thar a patch uv clover Wuz a-greenin' ; an' the singin' Uv the early birds wuz ringin'. Till the air all wavey trembled Through an' through, till it resembled Ripplin' water ; an' the breezes Had thet earthy scent which seizes 15 Yew with curiousest longin's, (Whether they air right or wrong uns) Jest tew drap yer bizness, givin' Up yerself tew simply livin'. Yes, I give in tew his urgin', An' decided on emergin' In a rented full-dress suit — (Gosh, be blamed! it wuz a beaut!) An' the fellers interduced me Tew the gal they'd picked fer me, An' they didn't have ter boost me Fer she suited tew a T. Wall, we got thar close tew eight, But we hed a spell tew wait; So it must-a bin 'bout nine When they formed us into line. Then we marched down, two by two. From the settin'-room an' through Whar the office-boys an' guests Wuz lined up tew watch us pass, — (Thar they set an' cracked their jests; Looked tew me like powerful sass!) Daown into the Dinin' Hall. — Did ye ast ef it wuz small? 16 Wall, by cracky! I should figger It wuz jest 'bout ten times bigger Thun the meetin' house tew home, Not a-countin' in the dome. An' the walls wuz jest ez red Ez or Tompkin's milkin' shed, Or the row uv hollyhocks 'Tween the pasture an' the rocks By the crick ; 'twas powerful bright ; An' the floor wuz paved an' \white! An' thet hunderd-foot-long table — Wall, by Ned! I jest aint able Fer tew give the least idee Uv the way it looked tew me. It wuz wide as ourn is long, — If I don't remember wrong, — An' jest loaded down with posies, — Front uv every gal wuz roses, — An' long lines uv smilax, viney- Like, wound all around the chiney. Like matched oxen in their yokes. We wuz paired with women folks ; Ev'ry feller hed beside him Some pert female tew divide him 'Twixt her clever talk a-heedin' 17 An' attendin' tew the feedin'. Uv these gals they wuz 'bout thirty, An' my pardner wuz ez purty Ez the next un. I'll jest bet yer Mighty few uv 'em could tetch her;- Real uncommon handsome lookin', (Doubt ef she'd be much at cookin') Sorter whitish ban's an' face ; Wore a sight uv frills an' lace. An' she talked ez interestin' An' ez chipper ez the best 'un 'Bout the weather an' the flowers — Never tired the hull four hours. She bed monstrous talkin' powers ! Yes, she wuz about the pick Uv the bunch — I see thet quick. Wall, in front uv each one's plate Stood a order card with great Soundin' eatables stuck on't, Like a reg'lar restaurant. I wuz doubtful what we'd strike, So I sez, un-ruffled-like, Tew the waiter by my chair : "Fetch the hull blamed billy-fare!' "Das jes' zvhat we gwine ter do!' 18 Sez he, laiighin', soz I knew He wuz a good-nater'd cuss, An' not apt tew raise a fuss. Such a sight uv eatin' tools ! Knives an' forks an' spoons, a pile, An' they used 'em all by rules Which the same wuz set by style, So I ast my pardner's views As tew which uv 'em tew use First. She sed "From outside in" Wuz the order she hed bin Told tew f oiler. — (Naow, / say Thet yer bound tew eat thet way!) Soon ez we wuz settled well. Here come oysters in the shell ; An' the pesky little suckers Stuck like corn-husks when the shuckers Tew a huskin' bee is burstin Almost, tryin' tew be first 'un Tew git done. The very worst 'un I give up, half out the shell, Jest ez they hed rung the bell Fer tew take the plates away — (Hardest work I'd done thet day!) 19 Next the coffee cups wuz brought, (Least thet's what I really thought), Full uv nicest coffee, hot Ez the fire beneath the pot. Careful-like I picked it up. Filled the sasser from the cup, Swallered some, — an' raised a whoop — Fer the thing wuz filled with soup ! Soup in coffee-cups, by thunder ! Wuzn't thet a aiViful blunder! — 'Spose with sech a pack uv souls They wuz sorter shy uv bowls. Then they fetched a mess uv fish Thet wuz good ez ye could wish ; Only naow an' then a bone Made yew v/ish yew wuz alone. Next things up wuz listed "Patties" ; — Naow, perhaps yew know what that is : Little round things filled with stew, Like a little pot uv glue. Wall, I stuck my spoon into it. But I cuddent shove it through it, Fer the thing wuz made uv paper! Naow warn't thet a cur'ous caper? — 20 I hev heared that off tew school They feed paper April Fool; But a banquet aint no place Fer tew act up in sech ways ! Then they fetched suthin' tew drink- Circus lemonade, I think. It wuz nice an' red an' sweet, An' its taste wuz hard tew beat; Only it hed not bin strained, So thet, when yer glass wuz drained. Little chunks uv fruit remained, Or got in yer mouth an' choked Yer, jest as yer gal had joked, An' yew felt jest about half Like ye'd bust unless ye'd laugh. Punch they called this drinkin' mess ; An' the reason is, I guess, 'Coz yew hev ter punch away Bits uv fruit thet block the way. But it bein' powerful good. Things like thet wuz easy stood. In sev'ral way I liked the most The little quails they fetched on toast. They wuz the purtiest lookin' sight, 21 Not countin' gals, I seen thet night; But awful tough ! — I would hev 'lowed Mine wuz the gran-dad uv the crowd. Bird-meat wuz a favor-ite With the hull of us thet night. After they hed tuck the bones Uv the quails tew kitchen zones, Chicken salad wuz the next Thet our stummick regions vext. I'd hev et my scraps uv hen Better ef the gravey'd ben Not so sour. But then this balk Give the chance tew stop an' talk. I wuz gettin' purty full, Anyhow, so in the lull, Turnin' tew my gal, I ast : "How much longer duz this last?" "Wall," she sez, "I reckon soon It'll stop — thar's jest a spoon Left unused, an' I shud guess That'd finish up the mess." Wall, however that might seem, Next thing give us wuz Ice Cream, (Thet's my fav'rit kinder sass.) 22 It wuz white, but full uv real Cur'ous little chunks like glass, With the taste uv citron peel. Thar wuz cakes uv ev'ry style Settin' 'round, pile after pile; An', soz not tew be behind, I tuck some uv ev'ry kind — Though it almost stretched me blind! But the fruit, piled up invitin' 'Long the table, we wuz slightin'. Not a one hed et a grape Or a orange, or no shape Uv the fruit; so I sez, quiet To my gal : "Say, les us try it." "I'm too full," she sez, "les knock it Off the program." I replied : "Chuck a apple in yer pocket, — Yew kin eat it then outside !" Jest then, right at the tail end, What shud thet hotel man send But real coffee, sure enough — This time 'twant no sOup er bluff! 23 Ev'rything wuz rattlin' good : I et jest the best I cud — But thar wuz one thing thet I Cuddent do ef I shud try Till the end uv kingdom come; That wuz break the "Water Crackers' Tried until my hands wuz numb ! But I guess some careless packers In the fact'ry must-a sot 'em Whar they afterwards f ergot 'em; An' they must-a stood fer years, Till they got so hard an' dry Thet they'd bust a pair uv shears. So, when no one seemed to spy, I jest slipped one tew the floor (Which wuz clean I see before). An' by trompin' with my heel Broke it up, quite a good deal. Then I knocked a spoon off quick, Soz thar'd be a chance tew pick Up the pieces I hed broke. An' give 'em a while tew soak In the coffee, till they'd thawed Soft enough soz to be chawed. O, yes, I came nigh not a-sayin' How they kep' a band a-playin' All the time we wuz at dinner ; An' it wuzn't no beginner, But a real professional crowd — Didn't play tew soft ner loud, But jest thet sorter dreamy way That makes the hull year seem like May; Thet kinder oozy-woozy sound, Like angel pinions flappin' 'round ; So thet the talkin' wuzn't drown'd, But with the tune seemed tew be wound. 'Bout the time we'd got plumb done, These band fellers up an' went; Then commenct some diff'rent fun: Makin' speeches pert, thet sent Waves uv laughin' surgin' 'round, Like a rabbit with a hound Chasin' uv it. I'll be bound I aint never laughed before Half so much. Why, I wuz sore From a-laughin' ! After that, I aint certain jest where at, Thar wuz four young fellers sang. Then the hall with clappin' rang, An' they sang one more, er two — Lots uv noise, fer sech a few, — An' 'twuz powerful purty, tew ! 25 Wall, sir, I lost track uv time. I'd hev sold out fer a dime When I seen, when we wuz done, It wuz awful clost tew one! Street cars wuz put up fer night; But the moon wuz shinin' bright, An' we hed a right smart sight More uv talk an' laughin', too, Walkin' home thar, tew by tew. An' I've bin thinkin' ever sence : These bloomin' banquets is immense ! A NERVOUS REFLEX. (Dedicated to the Psychology A Class.) "On old Moriah's piny tops A Finn and German picked some hops." This simple verse was given to me To help me learn anatomy. My Auditory caught the sound And sent reflexes surging round. And first th' Abducent nerve contracted, Then Motor-Oculi reacted. The eye-ball slowed up with a jerk 26 And let the Optic do its work. — Thus memory was aided quite A little by the sense of sight. The Glosso and Olfactory Were stirred up out of sympathy. Through Facial and Trifacial, too, The sensitive reflexes flew. And down my Pneumo-Gastric thrilled The shock, until my blood was chilled. Upon my hands my head fell cold, — The Spinal nerve had ceased to hold ; So shocked it was by this refrain It bent like rubber 'neath the strain. But worst of these effects colossal Was that upon my Hypo-Glossal. This nerve began to vibrate so My tongue like lightning 'gan to go : " 'On old Moriah's' — one, two, three, — Olfactory, Optic, Oculi ! 'On old Moriah's piny top' — Patheticus, Trifacial, — stop ! Enough of this !" — yet on I went : " 'A Finn and German' — Abducent, Facial and Auditory, Gloss- 27 O ! This is making me quite cross ! — They 'Picked Some' — Vagus (or Pneumo) — Yes, that's the way it ought to go ! — '' 'Some' — Spinal — er — Accessory ; 'Hops' — Hypo-Glossal — Let me see — Ah! That is all!"— But, horrors !— then My reflexed tongue begins again ! So all day long, against my will, Reflexes keep me mumbling still : "On old Moriah's piny tops, A Finn and German picked some hops." Now, as I daily suffer thus, Am I not a Pathetic-Cuss? TICKNOR HALL. Song. — ( Tune : ''Forsaken.") I. It stands on the campus the queen of the Halls ; What fancies, what memories breathe round its walls, Its drawing-room, dining-room, corridors, hall — And its study, its study! — round it most of all! 11. Whenever we enter at Ticknor we seem Surrounded by spirits as if in a dream ; And they whisper strange stories of pleasures of yore, Of class celebrations and functions galore. III. For at Ticknor the co-eds their citadel hold ; And not half of its secrets have ever been told. We hear of their Fudges, their Rare-bits, and such, But, compared with the facts, what we know is not much. IV. So we dream and we listen to the tales of the elves Of past celebrations like the ones we ourselves Have shared in, and laughed o'er, and will ever recall, While we hold in fond mem'ry our belov'd Tick- nor Hall. "STRIKE WHILE THE IRON IS HOT." Now Greek is a terror, And Latin's a fright, 29 And Spanish is really too much ; But unless I'm in error, There's nothing that's quite As awful to tackle as Dutch. Two hours on Italian, A half more for French, Will usually do ; but for Dutch, From a student battalion To a judge on the bench, A day and a half's not too much. Ten students together Might work for ten hours, (A hundred straight hours for one such) ; And yet I doubt whether, Combining their powers. They'd manage to get out their Dutch. Then rouse ye, my brothers, "In union there's strength" ; United by sympathy's touch. Let's strike with the others Against the great length Of these terrible lessons in Dutch : ROUGH ON DUTCH. (And, Incidentally, on Tennyson.) Dutch ! Dutch ! Dutch ! 30 When I meditate on thee, My tongue would scarce dare utter The thoughts that arise in me ! Plug, plug, plug! 'Tis the same old tune alway. With never a rest from grinding. Not a cut or a holiday ! And the suffering class goes down To the Ohs, on the side of the hill ; But O, for the joy of a vanquished prof. And a classroom hushed and still ! THE REAL DUTCH. You can say what you please about Dutch It takes ten hours a day, we'll admit ; But for training few courses can touch Diese Sprache — und fertig damit! For each hour of our sweat-shoppish toil Spent in getting our translations well. There's a soothing and pain-killing oil Wann scherzt unser Lehrer so hell! 31 More of work, more of fun, less of waste, In the time which we spend in pursuit Of this language of culture and taste: — Und ein thaetiges Leben 'st sehr gut! TRUTH. One time a fool Was sent to school To learn some sense And clear the dense Delusion from His cranium; This is no lie : That fool was I. THE COW. The cow is a gentle creature, She stands as still as death ; With peace perched in each feature And Sen-Sen scented breath. Her cloak is soft and silky, And smooth and shiny, too ; Her teeth are white and milky, i Her horns are navy blue. j Her legs are long and graceful, — \ More graceful than a calf's; \ Her mouth is quite a faceful :j As often as she laughs. ] i But still one vulgar habit i Nips beauty in the bud : i Like high-school girl and rabbit, She's always chewing cud. A VALENTINE. A gentle breeze Stirs in the trees. Stars twinkle in the sky; The woodland way Alone I stray; Would thou, my love, wert nigh ! I see thy face, Thy features trace, In every cloud-decked sky; "Come back to me. 33 I long for thee !" The lapping wavelets cry, I hear the sound Of merry round, Of song and mirth afar ; But without thee All sounds to me Are sadly off the tar — (I mean the pitch — The stuff of which The former's made, they say.) But, wo is me ! I feel no glee, For thou art far away ! A DESPERATE SITUATION. (Or The Easter Bonnet.) The other day I saw so strange a bonnet. That, quite amazed, I sat me down upon it To write some jingling verse or stately sonnet. I do not mean, now, mind you, I'm explaining, That on the hat I sat me down, remaining While from the Muse the inspiration gaining; u But on a chair I sat me down, with pencil — ('Tis true, I might have used a pen; but when will A pen become so useful a utensil?) Nor do I mean that on the hat the writing Should be inscribed ; for graphite in uniting With millinery foliage might be blighting. It was on sweetly-scented, ink-lined paper I sat me down beside my burning taper To execute for you this rhythmic caper. But now I see again I've blurred my meaning, As if upon the inclined paper I'd been leaning : — I seem possessed my purpose to keep screening ! I sat me down, as I have just been saying. My plans for rhythmic lines minutely laying, And all my verbous store-house nicely weighing. — I started out to write about a bonnet That had a wondrous jungle growing on it; But now I find I really haven't done it ! Envoy Once criticisms scarcely beatific Were hurled at me for being un-speciHc ; This time I hope for comments more pacific. MAY 26, 1902. For hours it dripped From the cloud-filled sky As if by some guy The tank were tipped. The roads ran rivers, The rivers ran floods ; Through the spring-dressed buds, Ran watery shivers. A new-set tree In the campus park, For want of an ark In which to flee, Was washed ten feet From its starting place, And sailed with the grace Of a modern fleet! But worst of all, In a goodly line, The Co-Eds who dine At Ticknor Hall Across Cascade, With its rushing tide Nearly twelve feet wide, Dared not to wade. 'Neath scanty cover, Dripping, stood these same. Till four brave youth came And helped them over, 36 ON A BASKET BALL POSTER. Now, once again, we hear the call Inviting us to Basket Ball. The Seniors and the Sophomores, Amid the crowd's excited roars. Will play the Junior-Freshman team. ! The gym — aglare with 'lectric gleam, And warm as toast with stewing steam, — Will open to receive the stream Of students, Thursday night, 'twould seem And from the sideline seats the cream Of fair co-eds will sweetly beam, — Each cheering for her own class team. To miss this stirring, grand event Would be to give the notion vent That you have not a single cent; For who has sense can't be prevent- Ed following up the Basket scent. Since two can go for twenty-five. But one is fifteen, all should strive To bring a partner — for to thrive And get ahead in life will drive A man to save his senses five. 37 THE EQUINOXIAL STORM. 'Twas on the morn of March eleventh, (Just four short days after the seventh), That in the dim, uncertain light I saw a strange and savage sight, Which made my blood run cold. Around the flag-pole, ('though 'twas chill) On which they'd pasted up a bill Which aimed to squelch the Freshman class, The Soph'more girls kept watch, en masse, With threat'ning mien, and bold. A Freshman delegation fair, Approached with Carrie-Nation air. Attack was met with stern rebuff; The thing became a little rough — And foes began to mix. Ah ! Never was a stranger scene ! Perplexed, I cried: "What does this mean?' Was it a scene from Dante's Hades f No; just a scrap between the ladies Of Naughty-Five and -'Six. ET TU, AVIS? Once strolling through Birdville, I happened to see A queer advertisement high up in a tree : "Instructions in flying by J. Bird, Esquire, Professional winger and famous high-flyer." I stood all amazed, for I always had thought That nestlings should be by their own parents taught. So I asked an old owl in a neighboring pine What the meaning might be of that strange-sound- ing sign. Quoth she : "In our city we have female clubs. — A bear shouldn't give all her time to her cubs ! — Congenial companions in clubs flock together, (You call it a clique — we call it a feather), To discuss weighty matters — like fashions in plumes, ('Tis immensely more pleasant than searching old brooms For nest-straw, to make better homes in our na- tion!) We have a most prosperous Association Of Musical Talent, both players and singers; And we're getting to be most astonishing wingers In our Soaring Society. Once every week We all fly together around that high peak. In politics, too, of our bird-commonwealth, And in matters pertaining to diet and health, (The best kinds of beetles for breakfast and dinner. The fact — all unknown to the unlearned begin- ner — That germs and bacteria and such fearful pests Inhabit the rubbish we once used for nests ! Till we've taken to using, instead, only straw Disinfected by officers under the law; And some of our prominent germ-agitators Have urged us for nests to employ incubators) — In such deep researches the mother bird delves ; But the tender young nestlings aren't left by themselves, Oh, no ! we hire nurse-birds to watch night and day. While we are on matters o\f moment away. And when it comes time for the young things to fly, We send for J. Bird, whose sign you espy. From the nest he can push them as well as can we; — (And, really, he charges a moderate fee!)" 40 I heard, and was struck with profoundest dismay. It seemed as if Nature were run to decay. The trees drooped in sorrow ; as if in a shroud, The mountain peak covered his face with a cloud ; And the heavens, in sympathy over earth's pain, Dropped gently upon her the tears of their rain. — I opened my lips to protest with the owl, But she laughed me to scorn, and replied, with a scowl : '"Tis Civilization has taught us the plan; We once were all pagans — we now mimic Man." A THANKSGIVING NIGHTMARE. (Apologies to Fitz-Greene Halleck.) At midday in the oven warm, The turk lay dreaming of the hour When guests, who'd braved the blinding storm, 'Neath branching palm and flower. Would with the host and hostess share The plentiful Thanksgiving fare. In dreams, he saw the group's glad gaze Beam on his brown-baked breast. And, proudest bird in east or west, He heard the appetiteful guest His ponderous plumpness praise. 41 An hour passed on — the turk awoke; That bright dream was his last ; He woke — to hear clear bell-taps call The feasters to the dining hall, He woke— in presence of these folk, To fall beneath the carver's stroke, By thrust of steel harassed. Before th' assembled eyes there came A dinner worthy of the name, A table crown'd with cheer. Fruits from the forest and the field, Stacked till the staunch board fairly reel'd, Ev'rything tooth-some harvests yield They saw in plenty here. They ate like starved men, long and well ; They stuffed their stomachs — each his own; They conquered — and the turkey fell, All but the bare-picked bone. And many a well-timed yarn was spun, As mastication raced with fun; — And the great feast was o'er. That eyening, late, saw eyelids close O'er feaster's eyes, who sought repose, And, seeking, paced the floor. 42 Come to the slumber-chamber, Sleep ! Come to the feaster when he feels For the first time, he's gorged too deep ; Come when his hot brain reels! At midnight, in the chamber's chill, The sleepless folk could not keep still, But tossed in troubled, tortured dreams Of stalking barnyards filled with fowl, Of fruits and nuts and bubbling bowl. Of pies and pudding, cakes and creams. Now phantom gobblers scoff at each. And pluri-peded pumpkin pies. In ominous tones their lessons teach To each sick sufferer, where he lies. Full late into the wee small hours The conquerors feel the conquered's powers. In wakeful dreams, they hear this taunt: "My dear, kind friends, be of good cheer^ Thanksgiving comes but once a year, So eat all that you want!" THE OTHER POINT OF VIEW. Lives of bums and drunks remind us. We can make a hit while here, 43 And, departing, leave behind us, Scents of cigarettes and beer. Odors that perhaps another, Setting out to be a swell, Some forlorn, lightheaded brother, May start on the road to hell. THE ERROR AND THE WRONG. (With Apologies to Longfellow.) I shot an Error into the air, It fell to earth, I did not care; For, so thoughtless I'd grown, the sight Of ill-wrought work caused me no fright. I breathed a Wrong into the air, It fell to earth, I know not where; For who has insight keen and strong Enough to trace the results of Wrong? Long, long afterward, far and wide, I found the Error multiplied ; And the Wrong, by some boomerang art, I found returning had pierced my own heart. 44 THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SEASONS. I. Like a sentry, stands the mountain, Guarding field and wood and plain, Through the changing scenes and seasons, In the sunshine, in the rain. First to greet the morning sunbeam, Last to lose the sinking ray. While in haze of dawn or twilight Plains and valleys round him lay, He has stood, and standeth ever; For he leaves his watching never. II. When he sees the harvests garnered, Feels the biting Autumn blast, When the chilling hoar-frost gathers. And the Summer's reign is past, — Then he wraps his rugged shoulders In his autumn mantle gay. Like the storied coat of Joseph In its many-hued display; For its beauty naught surpasses, Wrought of tinted leaves and grasses. 45 III. But when Winter, hard and heartless, Striking wildly right and left, Blasting with his cruel coldness. Like some being sense-bereft Seems to ruthlessly determine All the earth with death to smite, — In a robe of richest ermine, Diamond-studded, sparkling bright. Scornfully the Mountain warms him, And the blizzard never harms him. IV. Then comes bud-engend'ring Springtime, Setting valleys in array, All their winter bleakness rend'ring Verdant in new garments gay. And the Mountain, seeing round him All these fresh-apparelled folk, Calls to Nature quick to weave him A more seasonable cloak : For his winter coat is fading. And its weight his shoulders lading. V. So dame Nature on her world-loom Doth begin to weave and spin 46 For the Mountain's summer costume, With rich stuffs of varied green. Hark, the sounds of busy humming ! Though 'tis said her work is still, Hear her schuttle in the brooklet's Babble and the songster's trill. With the birds' first notes beginning, Nature sets her looms a-spinning. VI. Wondrous is the new creation ! Step by step from base to height, As the melting snow-line rises Higher, higher, day and night, — To its very border pressing. Climbs the summer fabric, green. Dotted rich with wild-flower beading. Standing forth in glorious sheen ; Till at length from plain to summit It has spread, in art consumate. VII. With each shifting of the shadows As the hours of day progress, Every glen and dome and turret Takes on added loveliness, 47 From the halo of the morning Till the ev'ning sun goes down, Leaving shafts of gold and crimson For that last transcendent crown; And the summer moon shines brightly, Adding varied beauties nightly. VIII. Thus unchanged, yet ever changing, Stands the Mountain sentinel ; With each season dons new glories, Yet the same old Mountain still ! So we see some lives about us Sweeter grow as seasons roll, While beneath a changing surface Dwells unchanged a steadfast soul ; Staunch, unchangeable in duty ; Changing but with added beauty. ANEMONES. Before the warm sunshine has driven the snow From hillside, ravine, and the slopes where they grow, They come as a prophecy, telling of spring. 48 Ah ! who can e'er tell how much gladness they bring ! What hopes and what promises bright seem to cling Around the brief season these Esquimau flowers Appear, and, in spite of the elements' powers, Seem only to smile at the cold April showers, Wrapt warm in their furs and all huddled together. They herald, as forerunners, sunshiny weather, — They herald its coming — but ere it is here They've withered away; for they never appear To share in the joys of the Springtime they bring: Their mission's to herald ; that done, they take wing. THE ANEMONE. It stood alone In yon ravine, Where all unseen Its flower had blown. The March winds howled, It did not stir. For all in fur 'Twas robed and cowled. 49 At storm and cold And tempest wild It only smiled, And spring foretold. No eye approved, None shared its lot ; Yet — though forgot — It stood unmoved. Brave little flower, Anemone, Impart to me Thy gentle power To stand serene, — Though all without Be storm and doubt, Still calm within ! THE PINES. The pines, the pines ! I love the pines ! Away With weak, deciduous broods which faint or die Of fright at every passing storm ! Give me The pines which stand unmoved, in verdure clad The year around, — a pledge that winter's sham Of death is but a sleep. Brave Optimists! 50 Not in the poison-breathing lowlands dank, But tow'ring on the heights which cleave the skies, They lift their heaven-aspiring pinnacles, And bear aloft their rich Aeolian lyres Which breathe, responsive to the breath of God, Unending hymns, of majesty divine; While earthlings, grov'ling in the depths and sunk In mute and sightless discord, age and die. Perpetual youth ! Ye pines the secret hold — A life in harmony with God, which breathes Eternally in song! TO SPENSER. O Spenser, who did'st sing in former times The Truth, half-hid in allegoric phrase: Still, moved with wonder in these later days, We feel the gentle beauty of thy rimes. With thee we fly to quaint, forgotten climes, We pierce the dim mirage that o'er them plays. See knightly courtiers, hear the minstrels' lays, And listen, rev'rent, to the sacred chimes. Thou clothest old truths in so pleasing guise That sneering prejudice and doubt can raise 51 No carping negative. With glove of mail Thou dost hypocrisy and vice assai' Calmly thou stand'st, with Shield of Faith ablaze, — And, smitten by its light, base Error dies. TO BYRON. No more with scourging condemnation told We bare thy vices to the curious crowd, No longer cry our criticisms loud ; Heredity and circumstance did mould Thy life amiss. Thy passion'd measures, bold. Revolt against misfortunes which had bow'd A spirit less contained, obdurate, proud, And which thy path in hopeless gloom enfold. Instead, we pity thee the dull despair, The canker, worm, and grief which sapp'd thy youth ; We mourn the wreck of pow'rs superb and rare. Which might have served so well the cause of Truth. With mind magnificent, with senses keen. The Poet of thine Age thou should'st have been \ 52 ON FRIENDSHIP. O there are times when it is hard to bear The wreck of plans which fail in spite of toil And thoughtful care ; when those we love recoil From us, when those for whom we strive in prayer And even popular disfavor dare. For whom, unthanked, we burn the midnight oil, — Seem from our very love to turn, and foil Our fondest hopes for them; till, in despair, The traitor thought steals subtly to the heart : Why troublest thou for one who thanks thee not? If thou would'st win him, to his standards bend. But swift the answer comes : 'Tis friendship's part To be, though only cold rebuff thy lot, Still true to thine own self and to thy friend. TO D. C. M. Before me on my table A little frame doth stand, And thou, O Friend, dost watch me From out its golden band. So thou art ever with me, Though here or there thou art; . I see thy face, and bear thee Forever in my heart. 58 And daily as I watch thee, I raise for thee the prayer That God may keep thee spotless In His protecting care. Ah, sacred power of Friendship !- Thy presence, ever near, Doth strengthen me in crises, My daily task doth cheer. THE STRENUOUS LIFE. Not weak submissiveness to fate. But struggle, made our fathers great. 'Twas battling for each sacred right, 'Twas toil and pain and want, That trained their moral fibre, firm. Which hardships could not daunt. The aimless ease of luxury Robs life of half its powers; The paths that lead to mountain heights Are never strewn with flowers. 54 GOLD OR A HUMAN LIFE. Alone in a wretched hovel I found a miser old ; Unmindful of love or beauty, He cared for naught but gold. Alone in a stately mansion I found a learned man, A talented, wealthy scholar, Whose cheeks were sunk and wan From luxury. Selfish pleasure. The quest for show and fame, The gaining of ease and culture, He made his life's sole aim. Unmindful of want and suffering Among his fellowmen ; — The poor and oppressed for succor Ne'er came to him again; Unmindful of blind and groping, Outside in hopeless night, From whom in his splendid palace He shut away the light; Disdaining the lame and leper, Whose pain his skill could cure; — His sympathy, cheer, or counsel, Ne'er helped a friend endure, 55 Ah, which was the greater miser, — The man who hid his gold. Or the man who hoarded his talents, Whose heart was hard and cold? For out in the world of struggle, Where want and pain are rife, Which, think you, of greater value ; Is gold or a human life? "WITH TREMBLING HANDS UPLIFT." With trembling hands uplift. We humbly pray; We tremble in the Night to drift. Yet fear the Day. We pray that we may see Thy face, and feel Thy presence hovering o'er, as we In rev'rence kneel. Yet, as we pray, we quail Lest Thou should'st hear, And, lifting from our sense the veil, To us appear. We pray for keener sight. That we may thrust 56 Beyond; yet 'tis not greater light We need, but trust. ! We raise our blind request '. As children weak ; O give us what Thou seest best, — ' Not what we seek. i THE CHRISTMAS GIFT. ! Oh, wond'rous Gift of Ages, God reveal'd In human terms, that man might apprehend Whom he, though conscious of Him, sought in vain In earthly forces or the firmament ! : We had not understood the angel tongue, I Nor borne the awful glory of the light. Had God in all His grandeur come unveiled : ; He could not speak to us, but in our speech ; ■ He could not show us more than human eyes ' Can bear. Nor were it worthy God to take 1 Some form of nature lower than the one j Most high that mortal mind may understand. « And so the Christ, the perfect Man, divine ' In human, human in divine, was giv'n, — The only revelation God could make. 57 II. Oh Friend, who'rt conscious of my love to thee. Although thou can'st not see or analyze, In future years, beyond the mortal veil, We'll see each other face to face and know As we are known, — as we may then see God And understand whom now by faith alone We feel to be. — But even now we have The type of love express'd by these slight gifts Which we, in memr'y of the Greatest Gift, Upon His Birthday give to those we love; — These tangible revealers in the terms Our finite senses may receive and weigh. But if thou seest in my gift to thee But so much gold or beauty, which I set As valuation of thyself to me. And not the subtler meaning, true alone, That in the gift I give my love, myself. In form which thou can'st see and hold; — Then is my gift but empty dust of earth, Which thou may'st pawn for so much gold, and be The richer for the bargain. III. So, Oh Friend, Should we the subtler meaning, true alone, Of God's Great Gift to us conceal and lose, 58 Were we in Christ to see no more than man- The valuation of ourselves to God — And failed to see that God has in the Gift Reveal'd His Love, His Sympathy, Himself, In form which we may see and know And worship, while we follow Him to Life. A PRAYER. I. Lead me nearer. Holy Spirit, To the Source of Perfect Peace, Till full trust in Jesus' merit Forces fears and doubts to cease. Far above all worldly worry, Quest of wealth and fame, and free From Earth's shallow show and hurry, Let me, Lord, commune with Thee. n. Yet, while men from Truth are straying. While in any heart there's pain, While Sin's pestilence is slaying, While one captive bears a chain ; While, in heathen darkness, altars To the "Unknown God" arise, And the groping seeker falters Prayers of longing to the skies ; III. While from Thee, through want of knowledge, Love of sin, or poisoned hate, In metropolis or village, Any soul is separate; — I would, not, by ease surrounded. In the Holy Place abide, Careless of the sick and wounded. Who unanswered wait outside. IV. No ; I crave Thy gracious presence. Not to draw me safe apart, But that I may bear Thy essence To the great world's aching heart ; That my heart, with Thy Heart beating. As Thou lov'st may learn to love. And become a place of meeting For men's souls with That Above. 60 The Consolidated Publishing Co. Colorado Springs 18 I b t^o^ lV .% O » » * 4 -^ • • • » - <> >y^^^. •o^. "*./^** viO V •1*°' ^ A? 'iii^'* ^ V .'••■ '^^4^- ^^^^' .^^ 0" T'^^'^M''- ^^>"^' <^* ak^^ax V/ ♦^'^^^'- -^