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SOME WANDER SONGS 
 AND OTHER VERSE 
 'By HORATIO WINSLOW 
 
 W^ 
 
 PRINTED BY W. MAYER AT MADISON. WISCONSIN 
 IN THE FIRST PART OF SEPTEMBER 
 NINETEEN HUNDRED EIGHT 
 
Of the following poems the 
 
 fifth "Wander Song" and ^ 
 
 "Here's the End of Dream- -^C^rL^h f» 
 
 lamd'' appeared originally \u^ re) 
 
 in McClure's Magazine. ^ aS Q 
 
 To the editors of this maga- » JU ' \ ^ ^ 
 
 zine I am also indebted for ' 
 
 the privilege of printing 
 
 ' ' The Bride ' ' which was 
 
 accepted and paid for but 
 
 has not yet been published. 
 
 Any printed reproduction of 
 
 ' ' The Bride ' ' is necessarily 
 
 prohibited. 
 
 I OCT 5 . i^^^ 
 
 ^^J^1•^. 
 
Co mp ^otbtt 
 
 I 
 \ 
 
COPYRIGHT 1908 BY 
 HORATIO iVINSLOW 
 
I 
 
 I BUILT a house between two hills 
 Whereon I did devise; 
 " Who makes an end to wandering 
 
 Is cousin to the wise." 
 But the West Wind laughed and blew the dust 
 Of the hill tops in mine eyes. 
 
 The Black Cloud veiled me; " Ho!" quoth I, 
 
 " You have no lure for me 
 That I should face your rack and storm 
 
 And flout my tight roof-tree." 
 But the Black Cloud laughed and wet my cheek 
 
 With the spindrift of the sea 
 
II 
 
 A ROARING blaze of driftwood; 
 The sea-mews overhead; 
 A heap of sand our pillow; 
 A length of sand our bed; 
 The Mother Moon to kiss us 
 And wrap us with the sky; 
 And to the place of merry thoughts 
 My Shadow goes and I. 
 
 6 
 
Ill 
 
 THE Spring Wind ripples the willows* furs 
 Whose boughs are blithe with choristers; 
 
 And the Spring Wind calls to the sons of men 
 And we of the hearth go forth again. 
 
 There's a road to wander — a beast to kill — 
 A brave adventure beyond the hill; 
 
 There's a girl to find and a fate to mend 
 And a pot of gold at the rainbow's end. 
 
 God send us fortune of following 
 
 The vagrant path of the Wind of Spring! 
 
IV 
 
 WHEN we lay off o' Diamond Head 
 A swingin' in the sea, 
 A voice came roaring from the waves 
 And the voice it said to me: 
 
 " You'll sail through all the seas again 
 
 And round to Boston Bay 
 And there'll you'll find the girl again 
 
 That cried for you to stay; 
 
 "And you'll live upon the land again 
 
 As once you lived before 
 And you'll be like Christian folk again 
 
 And you'll go to sea no more." 
 
 8 
 
No more we'll go aloft by night — 
 
 No more we'll lie below; 
 No more we'll freeze by Behring Straits 
 
 Nor roast by Callao — 
 -0-0- 
 O snug we'll lie in Boston town 
 
 When winds go hard ashore — 
 And brig or bark or man o' war 
 
 We'll go to sea no more. 
 
FAITH! It was dawning of yesterday, 
 And soft in the cool of the sheets I lay; 
 And I'd clean forgot how I once wierttfree, 
 When a little bird came and sang to me. 
 
 Short was the song and of scanty art, 
 But it brought the red blood back to my heart; 
 And 't was never a hymn nor a true-love ode 
 But the Song — the Song of the Dusty Road. 
 
 I've bartered my sheets for a star-lit bed; 
 I've traded my meat for a crust of bread; 
 I've changed my book for a sapling cane. 
 And I'm off to the end of the world again. 
 
 10 
 
THE MAGICIAN 
 
 THE show is ended and the swarm 
 Of children gather to implore 
 The way of cooking cakes in hats 
 Or growing fifty flags from four. 
 
 The wise magician only smiles 
 And puts them off as best he may, 
 For well he knows that all the spell 
 Will vanish if he tells the way. 
 
 Master Conjurer of All, 
 Perhaps it would be better fun 
 To sit and simply watch the show 
 And never bother how it's done. 
 
 11 
 
(( 
 
 A MANTES, AMENTES ' ' 
 
 MY Love she is more beautiful 
 Than scent of rose or myrrH 
 And I — I lie awake by night 
 For thinking much on her. 
 
 My Love she has the dear, dear voice 
 
 As soft as mourning birds; 
 But I have lost my peace of heart 
 
 For her caressing v^ords. 
 
 My Love she has the white, white hands 
 
 As cool and sweet as wine; 
 But I have counted all the stars 
 
 Since that they touched with mine. 
 
 My Love, my Love and not my Love, 
 If such mad things might be 
 
 I would I had forgotten you 
 Or you remembered me. 
 
 12 
 
THE LAST TOAST 
 
 THIRTY good men lie out on the heath 
 And white and staring and drinking the rain, 
 The raven atop and the bracken beneath — 
 And here stand other good thirty again. 
 Ho! what care we for the thirty reft us, 
 Our throats are dust and the goblets ring; 
 O hearts of gold, lads, thirty left us, 
 The King — a toast to the King! 
 
 Hark to the crash at the outer door, 
 
 The hue and cry of the rebel scum; 
 
 And what be thirty to thirty score? — 
 
 A toast — Fill all — and the end is come. 
 
 The King! The King! — see the moment passes 
 And Lady Fortune hath taken wing; 
 A toast and we lie with the shattered glasses — 
 The King — by God — to the King! 
 
 13 
 
THE WORKMEN 
 
 CAME to the Workmen one who said, 
 " The works we do are done in vain: 
 There is no man shall live again 
 Or hear God's praise when he is dead. 
 
 *' Yea, what shall be the good of us 
 
 When Time has crept a little space 
 And, leering from his later place, 
 
 Has seen us one with Daedalus: 
 
 "Our cunning caverns blocked with drift; 
 
 Our engines rusted into earth; 
 
 Our strange devices nothing worth — 
 Forgotten every trick and shift; 
 
 14 
 
"Our songs unsung save by the gust; J^orkmem 
 Our limnings rotted line and dye; 
 Our proven things deep buried by 
 
 The silent unrefuted dust. 
 
 " Fools all! " he cried. Yet undismayed 
 
 They smiled and spurred the weary hand 
 And carved their glimpse of God in sand 
 
 And for the joy of making made. 
 
 15 
 
College @on00 
 
 I 
 
 POOR OLD PHARAOH— Sophomore 
 
 FROM the deepest pit in the pyramid 
 Where the dead Egyptian Kings lie hid 
 Old Pharaoh blinked at me and said, 
 ''Oho! but it's long that I've been dead. 
 
 " For many a year and rather more 
 
 I've lodged in here on the parlor floor, 
 
 And they've wined outside and they've made good 
 
 cheer 
 But it's been almighty dead in here. 
 The grape in the burial vase has dried 
 And the glow of my last good glass has died — 
 The last good glass that my throat shall see . . . 
 So down a brimming one just for me. 
 
 16 
 
" Long, long, ago in the world above ^57 
 
 I kissed farewell to my last true love Pharaoh 
 
 And she kissed my cheek and she kissed my chin 
 And she kissed the coffin they put me in. 
 But now I am scarred with seam and crack 
 And the red lips flee from the lips burned black 
 And the true loves stay where the blood runs free . . . 
 So kiss a pretty one just for me. 
 
 17 
 
^]°j " Have you heard the songs in the gray moonlight 
 Pharaoh Qf the good companions of the night? — 
 Such songs we sang, my friends and I, 
 Till the day shot red in the eastern sky. 
 But now with the dust in my throat stacked deep 
 And my voice outsung by a cricket^s cheep 
 All my songs lie dead for eternity , . . 
 So sing a jolly one just for me. " 
 
 So I bought me a drink with a two-ply straw, 
 
 And I kissed the prettiest girl I saw 
 
 And I sang a rollicking stave of song 
 
 For the sake of a chap who'd been dead so long. 
 
 18 
 
11 
 
 COMMENCEMENT CHANT— Senior 
 
 THE lights they shine along the shore — the rip- 
 ples waver in 
 
 And from the far-away there comes the quavering 
 mandolin: 
 
 Tomorrow we must choose for us the ways that we 
 shall wend 
 
 For all our goodly Fellowship hath come unto an 
 end. 
 
 Now must we part with room-mate Jack — 
 
 Our more than brother he — 
 Who slapped us bHthely on the back 
 
 Or cursed us gruesomely; 
 Who paid our debts, who wore our ties, 
 
 Who kissed our girls — deceiver! — 
 Who watched all night with unshut eyes 
 When we lay blind with fever. 
 So fare you well, dear Jack we knew 
 
 In days and nights delectable; 
 Two decades — Lord! — to think of you 
 Fat, Forty and Respectable. 
 
 19 
 
S«r'""* Now must we part with dearest Nell, 
 Chant jhg fairest of the fair, 
 
 Who lured us by the subtle spell 
 
 Of artless eyes and hair. 
 We billed and cooed and turtle-doved 
 
 Till lo — the Truth stole o'er us: 
 She was the girl our brothers loved 
 Some six good years before us. 
 So fare you well, whose heart was steel; 
 
 Yet things go so confoundedly. 
 It well may chance our sons shall kneel 
 And pay you court unboundedly. 
 
 20 
 
Now must we part with every life SS'"*"*'" 
 
 Of these four years of years: ^*'"'' 
 
 The campus torn by gallant strife, 
 
 The Street of Many Beers; 
 With all good fellows everyone — 
 
 (God wot there be no better!) 
 With book and pen and task ill done 
 And cap and shoe and sweater. 
 So fare you well who held us so — 
 
 Dead strings we may not strum again, 
 For Time may come and Time may go 
 But never you shall come again. 
 
 O Laughter, Lights and Light-o-Loves and Talk of 
 
 Friend to Friend, 
 But all our goodly Fellowship — 
 Yea, all our goodly Fellowship — 
 Our strangest, strongest Fellowship 
 
 Hath come unto an end. 
 
 Printed reproduction of this 
 poem prohibited except by 
 special permission. 
 
 21 
 
THE PASSING OF JUAN 
 PONCE DE LEON 
 
 NOW must I die whose life is lived in vain, 
 Who dreamed such dreams as never hand hath 
 penned, 
 Who suffered all mishap by surf and plain 
 To buy that which the Lord God would not vend. 
 Through summer seas and stormy did I wend. 
 Urged ever by the sea-birds' mocking cries 
 
 Till now beneath an evil fate I bend — 
 The Fount of Youth — I know not where it lies. 
 
 From lust of youth and lordship was I fain 
 
 To seek the Blissful Isle that it might lend 
 That which would make me young and free from stain. 
 
 Methought with all of Youth yet to expend 
 
 The glory of my glory should extend 
 Throughout all lands — aye even to the skies . . . 
 
 And now I die unsought by Fame or Friend, 
 The Fount of Youth — I know not where it lies. 
 
 22 
 
Far off where birds, soft woods, low surges J*j„f^'""^ 
 reign, ^<"!« 
 
 ^ ' dt Leon 
 
 Where the far sea and the horizon blend 
 There might I seek surcease of all my pain 
 
 And live anew the life that God should send: — 
 
 The Blissful Isle! — yet I shall never rend 
 Its veil of mist; and I — though worldly wise 
 
 Who know all things youth may not comprehend — 
 The Fount of Youth — I know not where it lies. 
 
 Envoy 
 Lord God, my soul to thee I do commend, 
 
 Unfit, unclean my sore-spent body dies; 
 Thine is the draught of life withouten end; — 
 
 The Fount of Youth — I know not where it lies. 
 
 23 
 
 I. 
 
A SONNET 
 
 To one R. C. who, having set sail from 
 Hull on the First of September, 1 659, was 
 shipwrecked off the coast of South America 
 and cast up on a desert island, the sole sur- 
 vivor of the crew. Also and secondarily 
 this sonnet is dedicated to the ingenious 
 narrator of his adventures — Mr. Daniel 
 Defoe. 
 
 THOU patron saint of those the best of days, 
 The glorious days when all the books were young; 
 Before the jade, Experience, had swung 
 Her vault of Facts wide open to the gaze; 
 Thou forefarer in boyhood's longed-for ways, 
 Surely no Heaven boasts thy voice among 
 It's choirs of calm-eyed angels. Nay, far-flung 
 And in some lost, lone star thy ghost herds graze. 
 
 Ho, I have fought with thee the angry surf. 
 In dreams uncounted borne thy toil and ills 
 And built thy castles my hand by thy hand; 
 And turned with thy rude spade the stubborn turf 
 And hunted by thy 3i(|e through all the hills — 
 And I have seen the footprint on the sand! 
 24 
 
EDEN WOOD 
 
 ^^ TTTHERE ha' ye been who sing so clear — 
 VV Who sing so clear and laugh so free?" 
 
 " Oh, I ha' been to Eden Wood 
 Wi' my true love by side o' me." 
 
 " What ha' ye seen in Eden Wood? 
 
 What sight o' wonder did ye see?" 
 " I ha' forgot all I ha' seen 
 
 Save my love's eyes that looked to me." 
 
 "There be strange birds in Eden Wood 
 
 That sing a mystic melodie." 
 " I heard no single sound, I trow. 
 
 Save my love's voice that spoke to me." 
 
 25 
 
^ood " Deep down — deep down in Eden Wood 
 The faery flower hangs from the tree — ' 
 " I thought not on the scent of flowers 
 While my love's hair was close to me." 
 
 " Oh, lead me then to Eden Wood 
 That I may go and joy like ye." 
 
 "Alas, I may not win the path 
 
 Till my love comes as guide to me." 
 
 26 
 
THE BRIDE 
 
 TT'S white rose and red rose and roses over all, 
 A And laughing in the great room and weeping 
 in the hall, 
 
 Wi* rich folk and poor folk and half the country- 
 side; 
 
 And all the little white flowers aquiver for the 
 Bride. 
 
 " She has a gown o' gold and lace, she has 
 a gown o* silk, 
 
 She has a gown from oversea o' satin, white 
 as milk." 
 
 " 0, were she dressed in homespun, it's little 
 I should care — 
 
 I'd take her for the red rose that nestles in 
 her hair." 
 
 " She has a chest o' white money, she has a 
 chest o' red. 
 
 She has a chest o' broidered cloth wi' pearls 
 
 and golden thread." 
 **0h, if she came wi' one chest, or if she 
 
 came wi' nine, 
 
 I'd take her for the dear eyes that look up 
 into mine." 
 
 27 
 
Brtde "She has a stone of carven red that is a 
 
 king's desire, 
 
 She has a wonder emerald that burns wi* 
 gobHnfire." 
 
 " Oh, what's the good o' red jewels or emer- 
 alds o' green 
 
 I'd take her for her white breasts to lay my 
 head between." 
 
 It's white rose and red rose and roses high and 
 low, 
 
 And pages brave wi' silk and sash, and brides- 
 maids in a row; 
 
 And low voice and hushed voice and all the talk 
 has died; 
 
 And hark — the fiddles sing their joy and yonder 
 comes the bride. 
 
 Printed reproduction of 
 this poem prohibited. 
 
 28 
 
CHRISTMAS CAROL 
 
 WHAT light is this that puts to scorn 
 Each other star the night hath worn? 
 Comes it the harbinger of morn 
 Or shines it for a king new-born? 
 
 It shines because The King is born, ' 
 
 Who are these still and hurrying 
 That flit as swift as birds a-wing; 
 Or doers of some evil thing 
 Or servants of the New-born King? 
 
 The Wise Men seek the New-born King. 
 
 29 
 
Christ- ^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ sacrifice 
 Carol ^^ ^^^ before the mid-dark dies: 
 Yet how shall I dare lift mine eyes 
 In that high birth-hall where He lies? 
 Nay, cradled in a stall He lies. 
 
 What gift have I? what shall befall 
 When I creep to the oxen's stall 
 A broken man — a prodigal? — 
 Sure I shall be despised of all. 
 
 You shall be welcome most of all. 
 
 30 
 
** HERE'S THE END OF 
 DREAMLAND" 
 
 HERE'S the end of Dreamland, here's the 
 Road of Day; 
 Kiss me of your kindness and let me go my way. 
 
 All the hours we squandered, all the miles we 
 
 went. 
 They were the gold of Dreamland and all the 
 
 gold is spent. 
 
 Hard and hard, Heart of Me, overhard it 
 
 seems: — 
 Lord! the pleasant palaces ... in the Land of 
 
 Dreams. 
 
 31 
 
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