PS 3537 .C5C5 Class Book. HS '^^ "^^ r r r Copyiiglit]^^_ l^v> roPYRiGirr deposit. Children's Voices and Voices of Joy BY Norman C. Schlichter BOSTON RICHARD G. BADGER THE GORHAM PRESS Copyright, 1922, by Norman C. Schlichter All Rights Reserved Made in the United States of America The Gorhara Press, Boston, U. S. A. AUG 1 1 J9?2 g)CU681849 •UP I TO MILDRED, BETTY, ALLAN, AND JOHN, AND THE "HAPPY ACRES" THEY ROMP UPON CONTENTS PAGE Thanksgiving Song 7 THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE Trundle-Bed Town 11 Boy Eyes 13 Lines for a Boy's Riley Book 14 Where Baby Sleeps 15 An Evening Journey 16 Go-to-bed Song 17 Cradle Song 18 Alice and Edith 19 On Seeing a Child Pray 20 The White Book 21 On a Child's Picture 22 Christmas Song for a Child 23 Christmas 24 Christmas 25 Advice to Parents 26 CHILD THOUGHTS The Kingdom of the Boo Dark Night 29 A Child Hero 30 Our Sofa 32 Boylike 32 Stars 33 Slates 33 A Wicked Thought 33 A Call to Arms 33 A Child's Prayer 34 An American's Wealth 3^ 5 Contents VOICES OF JOY PAGE Your Eyes 39 Lyrics of Thornhill 40 The Susquehanna River at Harrisburg .... 46 November Chrysanthemums in a Southern Mill Village 46 For Peace — Through All the Year 47 When the Sea is Calm 48 Fireflies 48 Northern Autumn 48 Scioto Hills, Ohio, Mid-December 49 A Thought in Charleston, West Virginia ... 49 Open Skies 50 A Mountain Ministry 50 Early March in Charleston 51 Frost Fingers 51 Old Ocean 52 When Rain Winds Blow 52 November in Chicago 53 Day and Night 53 A Little Room in the City 54 March Daffodils in Charleston 55 "Come Back, O Spirit of the Mild Content" . . 56 June 57 Of Peach Trees Blooming Very Early .... 58 Summer White-Caps 57 The Pines 59 After Reading Archibald Lampman's Poems ... 61 The Open Hill 62 The Wise Word, the True Word 64 THANKSGIVING SONG For little acts of kindness done, For thoughts of beauty born, To blossom all around me in the sun With each recurring morn, My heart is singing! For friendship with its ties of gold To bind around the soul And warm our lonely spirits in the cold To see love's aureole, My heart is singing ! For a thousand, thousand common things,- The fountain in my yard. The dainty colors of canary wings, The lyrics of a bard, My heart is singing! For happy children come to me Unconscious of my bliss At finding music In their infancy. And simple song like this. My heart is singing! THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE TRUNDLE-BED TOWN * Ev'ry man who's under seven Knows a borough much like heaven, With four corners snug and small, Just inside the nursery wall. All its streets are thro' and thro' Paved with quiltings red and blue. And a boulevard of white Runs along its bolster-site. Mother is the borough's queen, But the only ruling seen Is her taking tax of prayer Nightly from each res'dent there. Hushed and still it is by day, For the dreams are made that way; What save silence could devise All the night-time's sweet surprise ? Innocence and Sleep abide In this town at eventide, Only men devoid of sin Having right to enter in. * Published by permission of The Youth's Companion. II Children s Voices and Voices of Joy Pillows soft and white and fair Help to answer mother's prayer That her men rest snug and sound While the wheels of night go round. I went up there, years ago, Ev'ry night, I loved it so; And I wish I knew the way Up there still at close of day. 12 The Child in the House BOY EYES Boy eyes! Dew eyes! Could I forsake? Filling with morning, Sunshine adorning, Boy eyes, dew eyes — Baby's awake. Boy eyes! Glad eyes! Fine all the day, Glowing with pleasure Man cannot measure, Boy eyes, glad eyes — Baby's at play. Boy eyes! Pure eyes! No hint of care, They look up above To angels who love, Boy eyes, pure eyes — Baby's at prayer. Boy eyes! Tired eyes! Dreaming truth-deep, Head on the pillow, Drooped as the willow, Boy eyes, tired eyes — Baby's asleep. 13 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy Boy eyes! Bright eyes! Joyous and free, They look into mine And seem all divine, Boy eyes, bright eyes — Love eyes they be. LINES FOR A BOY'S RILEY BOOK I'm glad to give this book to one Who's good and fat and full of fun, And loves me like a little knight. In honor true, with all his might. I w^ish for him the kindest care From everybody, everywhere, And hope that when he is a man, He'll do for others all he can. So, little boy, accept this book, And often on its pages look. 14 The Child in the House WHERE BABY SLEEPS The baby sleeps on Pillow Hill, Just overlooking Cradleville. It's not a high hill, as you see, And he can climb it easily. 'Tis near enough to mother's bed To have her hand upon his head, And if he makes the weest cry, Her ear can hear, her aid is nigh. It is a dainty, dreamy place, And white and warm as baby's face. A-riding in on velvet fawns Here fairies come when evening dawns. They whisper into baby's ear The sweetest things a child can hear. He listens while the hilltop swings As though 'twere built on golden springs. But when it stops the place grows dim. And all the world is dead to him. He's gone to sleep on Pillow Hill, Just overlooking Cradleville. 15 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy AN EVENING JOURNEY "I lay me down to sleep," he said, Then climbed the Hill of Trundle-Bed. His mother's kiss he took along, A snow-white brow and heart of song. He stopped to rest at Blink-a-Blink, Then journeyed on to Could-not-Think; One step, and through the Gates of Rest He entered as a nightgown guest. His mother told me that's the way He loves to go once every day. So she just dresses him in white And lets him wander off with Night. I asked her if she did not fear Lest he some morn might not appear. "The angels promise me," she said, *'To send him home with morning red." ''Such trust," I said, "so tender, true, Will always bring him back to you." i6 The Child in the House GO-TO-BED SONG Dear Wide-Awake has ridden away On the fading wings of the dying day, And left you alone with old Sleepy-Eyes, A cosy cradle and dream-surprise. Rockaby high, baby, Rockaby low; Rockaby, my baby. Pure as the snow! Child-love in your dimples and love in your eyes. The cosiest cradle, the sweetest surprise ! The soldiers of tin on your doll-baby chairs Are blinking their eyes and saying their prayers. While the boys in the picture books, nodding their heads. Are wishing for mammas and soft trundle-beds. Rockaby high, baby, Rockaby low; Rockaby, my baby. Pure as the snow! Now sleep, and you'll meet 'mong the dream-away joys, Your soldiers of tin and your picture book boys! Ah ! down from the fairy shores whiter than milk. Dream-horses are coming with saddles of silk. To bear you and Sleepy-Eyes over the sea, Where all the delights of forgetf ulness be ! 17 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy Rockaby high, baby, Rockaby low; Rockaby, my baby. Pure as the snow! Now close your eyes tightly, keep hold of his mane, And the dream-horse will bring you to Mother again ! CRADLE SONG The flower-eyelids feel the touch Of twilight fingers, dear, And one by one the little stars Begin to reappear, — And to thee is the peace of the pillow! Then rock, my babe, go rocking away On the crest of the cradle-billow! Then rock, my babe, go rocking away Enwrapt in the peace of the pillow. The breezes blow through dusky aisles To meet the merry moon; The wood-doves unto drowsing go, A-wing with dreamy tune, — And to thee is the peace of the pillow! Then rock, my babe, go rocking away On the crest of the cradle billow! Then rock, my babe, go rocking away Enwrapt in the peace of the pillow. i8 The Child in the House ALICE AND EDITH Alice, my sweetheart, and Edith, my pet, They were my darlings — and I love them yet — When in North Carolina through years very sweet They lived close beside me upon the same street. When home I returned from my business or pleasure. They gave me their love in the fullest rich measure. They kissed me, they hugged me, they called me fine names; We romped, and we raced, and we played happy games. Once I asked them to tea and they ate with fine grace. Their calm, laughing hearts showing clear in each face. Now, I think we had rice, Carolina's delight, And chicken and chocolate and candy more bright. Next day they both called and told me their dreams. As if it just happened so clear it all seems. They never came singly, but always the pair; Sweet Alice was lovely, pet Edith as fair. 19 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy Alice, my sweetheart, and Edith, my pet, They were my darlings — and I love them yet — When in North Carolina through years very sweet They lived close beside me upon the same street. ON SEEING A CHILD PRAY A child at the feet of our Father in heaven Is kneeling down to pray. And his Angels wait At the bedside gate To bear its words away. A child at the feet of our Father in heaven! Two eyes upraised I see, And the hands a-clasp In a childish grasp For heed of Deity. A child at the feet of our Father in heaven! Oh, list! for sweet as a rose Is the simple cry And the soft ''Come nigh," That paradiseward goes. A child at the feet of our Father in heaven! What tender trust and true From the baby breast Of the Angels' guest Is sweeping through the blue. 20 The Child in the House A child at the feet of our Father in heaven! Would I could claim as they Of the sinless hand, In the Mayday land, The Master's ear to-day! THE WHITE BOOK From the French of Auguste Brizeux With soul and body light I reached sixteen ; My hair like gold upon my brow was seen; My virgin breast was full of ardor strong; A thousand joys came temptingly along. A loving Angel then unto me came, And on her vestal bosom shone like flame, With leaves all virgin clean, a book snow white. Tis yours," said she, "to fill its pages bright. (( ) "Let ne'er a page be blank, but full of zest; Let year and month and day your work attest; And may there be no trembling lines of sin To shame your vision when you look within. "A calm and sweetly-flowing story write. Each morn think what the page will hold at night. When you are old this book a joy will be, And in your mirror God's own smile you'll see." 21 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy ON A CHILD'S PICTURE Little dear in calico, How I love you none may know Save such hearts as leap with joy At the sight of girl or boy. I would ask you for a curl Had I coin of precious pearl, But, ah me, I fear you'd say, No, I cannot sell to-day." <( If your lips were not behind Dainty fingers soft and kind, I should surely beg a kiss In my raptures, little miss. Could your eyes be made to see, I would shake the Fairy Tree, Full of apples wrought in gold, All for children, I am told. Could you rise and go with me Over valley, over sea, I'd provide the tend'rest nurse In the boundless universe. But alas! a mother's tears. Falling through these many years, Tell me this will never be. Little angel, Emily. 22 The Child in the House CHRISTMAS SONG FOR A CHILD I will open two lips of purity And carol the morning through To the praise of the Babe of Bethlehem, Who silvers the Christmas dew. To the Babe of Love, To the Babe above, To the Babe who will my Saviour be I will sing through lips of purity. With two little lips by youth made mild I will sing a sweet song for the dear Christ-Child ! I will hold high two hands of purity And pledge each spotless palm, To the side of the Babe of Bethlehem, Who sweetens the Christmas calm. To the Babe of Love, To the Babe above, To the Babe who will my Saviour be I will pledge two hands of purity ! With two little hands by youth made mild I will pledge my soul to the dear Christ-Child I I will bend low two knees of purity And offer myself to-day, To the work of the Babe of Bethlehem, Who sees me at Christmas play. : 23 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy To the Babe of Love, To the Babe above, To the Babe who will my Saviour be I will offer a life of purity. My one little life by youth made mild I will yield to the arms of the dear Christ-Child ! CHRISTMAS Christmas is the fairest day That dawns for man. And eyes of children are its brightest light. 'Tis beauteous plan. It has been so since Jesus came To Bethlehem. His eyes betokened first to Mary there God's diadem. 24 The Child in the House CHRISTMAS From the French of Gautier The sky is black, the earth is white ; Bells carol, praise bestowing! Jesus is born; — the Virgin bright On him her smile is throwing. No festooned curtains are upborne To keep the child from freezing; Thin spider-webs alone adorn The stable roof displeasing. The dear child Jesus trembles sore, For few are they who love him ; To warm him in his cradle poor The cattle breathe above him. Above the roof from parted sky White snowflakes thick are falling. Glad angels white to shepherds nigh Are "Christmas! Christmas!" calling. 25 Children's Voices and Voices of Joy ADVICE TO PARENTS Give the children playthings, Let them make a noise, Mindful every minute They are girls and boys. Do not weep before them, Do not fret or frown ; Keep them laughing round you, Keep their troubles down. Every happy childhood' Is a comfort vast In the grown-up sorrows When the years run fast. 26 CHILD THOUGHTS THE KINGDOM OF THE BOO DARK NIGHT I know an ugly kingdom wide Where I'm afraid to go. I cuddle up at thought of it Beneath the covers, oh! It's down beyond the hallway there, Outside the big front door, And everything is black and black 'Cept now and then a store. If I should travel there alone Just once, now mind, it's true, My brother says I'd see a king ^ They call the Bug-a-boo. He's higher than the trees, he says. And both his fists are double. And all he ever thinks about Is making children trouble. He runs whene'er our mammas come, Of papas too, he's 'fraid, And so when I was out with them. Behind the clouds he stayed. 29 Children's Voices and Voices of Joy If I should be a mamma now, I'd try to catch and fight This nasty, goblin kind of king Out in the boo-dark night. A CHILD HERO When I sit down with pa and ma To take my evening tea, I try to be the finest boy That ever you did see. I bow my head till grace is said, Then use a fork until My mamma says, "Now, use a spoon Else something you may spill." I gladly do just as she says, For spoons are more becoming To one who reads from picture charts And can't do any summing. Sometimes if things are salted so I do not like the taste, I take an extra drink or two And let none go to waste. 30 Child Thoughts And if I cannot cut my pie, I do not cry nor hollo, I wait until it's cut for me Before I get a swallow. Sometimes desserts are made so good That I get full of wishes, But not a wish do I e'er tell, For fear I'd get two dishes. Now, ain't I good for doing this? My mamma thinks I am, For ev'ry night she kisses me And calls me, Little Lamb. 31 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy OUR SOFA We have a sofa green and blue, That's prettier than me or you; It's in the parlor still and fine, Untouched except by Emmeline. She is my sister, old and tall. She owns the sofa, owns it all. And never once in all the year Dare I go even halfway near. She says I have my little chair, And like a good girl should stay there ; But every now and then I cry 'Cause I must pass the sofa by. I think my sister ought to be Ashamed that she's so cruel to me, For only once since I do sums Did I have sticky hands and thumbs. BOYLIKE I love my teacher just enough. I would not love her more, Lest sometime she might call me back When I go out the door. 32 Child Thoughts STARS I think the stars too little are To carry lamps with light; Now would n't it be dreadful If they'd stumble in the night And burn each other, oh, so bad No stars would evermore be had ! SLATES I love my slate the best of all The things I have both great and small, And I am wishing, o'er and o'er. Our roof of slate would be a floor. A WICKED THOUGHT I have a dress that's all of silk; It is the color of the milk; And I would wear it every day, If my mamma were far away. A CALL TO ARMS If I should lose my animals Some night from Noah's ark, I'd have to get my soldiers brave To hunt them in the dark, 33 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy A CHILD'S PRAYER When I put my playthings by, Father, guide me with thine eye; When I, tired, creep to bed, Put thy hands upon my head. Thou art not afraid by night. For thou mad'st both dark and light, And I trust thy keeping sure While the silences endure. While I rest on pillows soft, Peep betimes within the loft Where my pretty bunnies dwell. Meekly hoping all is well. Let the star thou lovest best Shine upon the faithful breast Of my dogg}^, Commodore, Watching on Balcony Shore. Guard my Playroom Kingdom all, 'Specially my top and ball, For as soon as I awake. These two knights my pleasure make. 34 Child Thoughts Keep my marbles every one; Do not let the sand-mill run; Keep the pages in my books; Save my soldiers from the spooks. These requests I make in love; Hear them so, dear One above, And when morning lights the skies, Give me back my open eyes. 35 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy AN AMERICAN'S WEALTH * I have two little kittens, I have two little socks, I have two little mittens, I have some colored chalks. I have a lovely brother, I have a pa and ma, I have a sled and other Things that both my aunties saw. I have a broken dolly. Who's often sick in bed, I have a talking poUy With a very colored head. I have two golden fishes, Who swim, but cannot run; I have a dozen wishes That always wish for fun. ♦ Published by permission of the Public Ledger, Phila- delphia. 36 VOICES OF JOY YOUR EYES To E. W. S. The light within your loving eyes Has all the wonder and surprise Of Spring which gathers slow and wide By Susquehanna's southern tide. All those who mingle year by year With this same Spring, who chance to hear This praise and know it very true, Will feel a thousand envyings of you. But you, who also know so well This Spring's unmatched miracle, Will blush and modestly disclaim Your eyes' deserved incomparable fame. 39 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy LYRICS OF THORNHILL **A THORNHILL ROSE IS A ROSE INDEED" A Thornhill rose is a rose indeed, And perfect every flower, For the wind and the sun And the sun and the wind Caress them by the hour. A Thornhill wind is a wind indeed; The village lieth high, And the bold wind and the tame wind. The tame wind and the bold, Blow out of the Thornhill sky. The Thornhill folk are folk indeed, And Thornhill folk are good, For the hush and the peace And the peace and the hush Enkindle brotherhood. II 'have YOU HEARD THE THORNHILL MUSIC? Have you heard the Thornhill music, Have you heard the Thornhill song, From the happy throng 40 Voices of Joy Of birds in silent hedges, In fragrant flower ledges, In elfin meadow edges? Have you seen the Thornhill wonder? Have you seen the Thornhill gleam? Like a lovely dream, It is ancient, it is olden; It is shining, it is golden; It is all sure fairy-molten. You can hear it, you can see it, If you comrade with the pines, With the pines, the pines. There is music, there is wonder. Glory in, and o'er, and under, And around the peaceful pines. Ill "four churches stand to quicken grace" Four churches stand to quicken grace In Thornhill hearts, and make a holy place For men to dwell. 'T would easy seem To honor Deity and dream Of Him, His beauty, and His thought, By which are rapturously wrought Thornhill flowers and Thornhill birds, And the palpitant, lovely words Which the enamored wind doth bring Up from the meadow every spring, 41 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy IV THE BRIDGE Who takes the road to Thornhill, Through Thornhill to the bridge Which spans the lush, green meadow, Sloping lazy from the ridge, Will gaze and gaze in rapture And a peace undreamed of capture: By the gentle flowing stream, By the burning golden gleam Of the helmets of the corn, Marching down to greet the morn, With three pine trees in command Of the column green and grand. By the troops of cornflowers blue, Resting arms amid the dew; By the silver-waving willows, Like far glorious ocean billows, Rolling onward with the wind Toward the shores of distant Ind. By the grain in golden shock. Holding comfort for the stock When winter blows; and harvest white For man's desire and delight. By trim white farmhouse crowning clear The greenest pasture of the year. 42 Voices of Joy By the eager hurried greed Of a tired and thirsty steed For the water pure and bright, Gravel-cleansed by day and night. By the graceful cattle herd, Drifting, swaying, all unheard. O'er the meadow do they ply, Like a leisure cloud on high. By sure music, stately, loud, Of the giant live oaks proud. When winds blow high adown the ridge, Straight across the listening bridge. By blended wine of wind and sun, Full plentiful for every one Who patient with the bridge will share The lazy, languid August air. By the cozy toilers' cot, Where the simple solemn thought Of their God ennobles all; By the robins' cheery call. I gaze, and gaze in rapture. And a peace undreamed of capture When I take the road to Thornhill, Through Thornhill to the bridge Which spans the matchless meadow. Sweeping glorious from the ridge. 43 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy "iVe left my heart in thornhill" I've left my heart in Thornhill, So I shall sure return When ironweed lights the roadway And brighter blossoms burn. I'll hurry into John Street To where it comes a road, And when I reach the meadow, I'll find my heart's abode. Oh, come with me to Thornhill, Unutterably fair, And be a guest of Beauty, With sunshine everywhere! VI MEMORY I've left fair babes in Thornhill, And I am far away; But I can hear their laughter, And I can see them play. 44 Voices of Joy For, oh, my heart adores them And memory plays me fair, And I am still companioning The darlings everywhere. What wondrous little journeys Down John Street did we share, My blue-eyed Mildred matching All delicate beauties there! When now she goes to John Street, If she will look behind, A partner on each journey The blessed child will find. When Betty goes a-playing With Mildred or a pet, I see her gold hair flying, For I am with her yet. Fve left fair babes in Thornhill, And I am far away; But I can hear their laughter, And I can see them play. ^5 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy THE SUSQUEHANNA RIVER AT HARRISBURG Here mountains part to let the river roll Eternal toward its salt tumultuous goal; The animated beauties of its tide A special happy splendor here provide; And here the river seems to laugh out story Of all its previous perfect path of glory As if it knew there might be vast delight Within these mountains at the lovely sight; Then graceful bending, beauty-set, it flows, Flows on with sweet enchantment and repose. NOVEMBER CHRYSANTHEMUMS IN A SOUTHERN MILL VILLAGE Here where men and women toil to clothe their kind, And oftenest with smiles, for they are honest and have thought of God, They all love flowers and can tell their ways unto each season's end. I've seen the hands that finger threads upon their looms So delicately and yet so sure, display an even finer touch Upon these gentle and enrapturing blossoms pure, 46 Voices of Joy (A million petals posed in bright patterns as of Paradise) Both now in all their fullest glory showing, And while their gracious God was weaving them from day to day 'Mid sun and shower, in His heart their beauty knowing. FOR PEACE— THROUGH ALL THE YEAR For peace, on spring's fair day. To follow birds and stray Bright blossoming meadows o'er. For peace, just this, no more. For peace, on summer day, To join a child at play Upon a sandy shore. For peace, just this, no more. For peace, on autumn day, To fondle leaves full gay That fall about my door. For peace, just this, no more. For peace, on winter day, To burn a log, and pray, And meditate love's store. For peace, just this, no more. 47 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy WHEN THE SEA IS CALM Low-breathing bells, with a gull's salute, And a cloistered coral whispery Of Thee, of Thee, Repose within salt-tuned strings And sound in the waves of a quiet sea For me, for me. FIREFLIES From a land of elfin wonder, With fraternal beacons bright, Lo, the messengers of magic To the inner sense of night ! NORTHERN AUTUMN The wrinkled veins of the aging leaf Are at their tremolo, And all the griefs of a forced good-by The avian senses know. 48 Voices of Joy SCIOTO HILLS, OHIO, MID-DECEMBER In fine contrasting curving grace And delicate sweep of rounded slope These hills climactic beauty have. And Night hath sprinkled lightly down An even covering of snow, Which seems divinely spread To quicken the beholder's sense Of loveliness and perfect form. A THOUGHT IN CHARLESTON, WEST VIRGINIA Though mountains that surround are not so high. Yet perfect rampart 'gainst the fine far sky Of average place where men abide Are they, and thus effectually they hide The glow of setting sun's last beauties bright And every dawning day's new first delight. And so I think each far and flaming star Must have a consolation vaster far For Charleston folk than commonly for those who see The first of daw^n's, the last of day's, fine ecstasy. 49 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy OPEN SKIES When I behold the open skies, Straightway I claim them as my prize, Because their blueness silently Restores the dying faith in me. For they have trusted ages through The One who made me, me; you, you, Though thunders stirred and mists bedimmed And left them all unseraphimed. Nor have they murmured in their stress. Nor spoken aught but ''Blessedness: To lie here patiently in pain And test His wondrous love again." When I behold the open skies, Straightway I claim them as my prize, For their example silently Restores the dying faith in me. MOUNTAIN MINISTRY I see the purple mountains lying In far long ranges 'neath the wintry sun. And in their soft unusual muteness I feel a comfort when the day is done. 50 Voices of Joy In all their high unchanging calmness I feel renewal of our Father's rest, And know that when these surging days are over, In perfect peace He'll fold us to His breast. EARLY MARCH IN CHARLESTON Warm is the color and happy the pose Of every glorious Charleston rose, Sweet are the hyacinths down at one's feet, Breathing a welcome to all whom they meet. Even the ocean relentless and stern Seems to slacken its will, and to yearn To be quiet, and ministrant once and for aye To the fiery daffodils lighting the day. If Charleston is ever like this, let me stay, After hasting to summon forever aw^ay From the Northern clime now^ so barren and chill The friends of my heart here their loves to fulfill. FROST FINGERS The fingers on the hand of Frost Subserve artistic sense, And every morn that harbors him Gets frescoed recompense, 51 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy OLD OCEAN Lo, soft saline orchestrals roll In old triumphant tones, And rouse in me the rhythmic lore Of long-lost primal zones. WHEN RAIN WINDS BLOW Just a little aching absence, Just a little ashen gloom, With a breath of numbing odor From an olden, open tomb, Seems to settle firm and low In my soul when rain winds blow. Just a little happy loving. Just a little blissful joy, With a restful recollection Of the free heart of a boy, Seems to vaporize and go From my soul when rain winds blow. Just enough of blessings vanish As will give the cares a place. For the soul of only sweetness Might forget the fond, true Face. Purposeful this plan, I know In my soul when rain winds blow. 52 Voices of Joy NOVEMBER IN CHICAGO I left bright roses in the sun In CaroHna fair, (Snow-white, and yellow, red, and pink) I had to leave them there; For I must dwell in other clime And with new blossoms count my time. Now wind is chill, and flowers dead, And days of sunshine rare, While my sweet roses blossom bright In Carolina fair. My fine new flowers all are dead. Of Love I must be comforted. DAY AND NIGHT Welcome, peace-encompassed night! Welcome, dawn of blessed light! Both are givers unto man On a universal plan. Who may prove which giveth best? Light hath duty, night hath rest. 53 Children's Voices and Voices of Joy A LITTLE ROOM IN THE CITY Ten feet by ten Is more than size Of all the sky that greets mine eyes In terms of common measure; But looking, well content am I, I measure it with memory And stretch the soft blue treasure. Ten feet by ten becomes a mile, And on I journey till I smile, And yet there is no ending. With so much sky above my head, The room's a land; a town, my bed, I'm easily pretending. And so I measure other things. They grow so large my heart just sings, And I am ne'er complaining. Some men would say I dwell in gloom, But many sigh for this small room And joys that I am gaining. 54 Voices of Joy MARCH DAFFODILS IN CHARLESTON You warm my heart expectant still Of wintry frost and chill, Too harsh for tender eyes like thine To flash their secrets into mine. Why are you blest to greet the world So long before unfurled Your northern kin of equal blaze Bestow like glories to our gaze? And do you nod especially sweet To Northerners you meet, To help them treasure the surprise Of light on unexpectant eyes? I gaze, and think you mean to tell True answers; but, ah, well I know, if speech you knew, 't would be Too perfect for humanity. 55 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy "COME BACK, O SPIRIT OF THE MILD CONTENT" Come back, O Spirit of the mild content, And breathe on me anew. I've held the hand Of grief too long; too far into her land I've come defeated and without dissent, Till now no more thy magic ravishment Hath place to leap and fall within my breast And cheer, as fairy streamlets moss-caressed Do sweet wild things whose blood some drouth hath spent; Till I am blind to fancy, deaf to all The old consoling sounds of those glad hours When music filled my soul. O Spirit, fly Unto my need. Cut short this bitter thrall And help me find again my long-lost powers To voice the beauties of the earth and sky. 56 Voices of Joy JUNE From the French of Coppee In life where we but few years see, The sure instinct of birds and men To build a nest will always be. A humble roof of straw and clay To warm their families and their love, All wish to build some happy day. By maiden eyes my heart deep wrought, Of secret and exclusive joy This tender hope I too have caught. I dreamed with joy I built my nest, But then a furious storm-wind came And overthrew my plannings blest. As eggs that fall to earth from a tree. Upon my solitary way My broken hopes I sadly see. 57 Children s f^oices and Voices of Joy OF PEACH TREES BLOOMING VERY EARLY In glorious garments they display Their bright contagious hopes to-day; And the souls of all who see Are ennobled mightily. The warm earth and the loving sun Rejoice upon their triumph won, And Beauty's perfect eyes Moisten with their rhapsodies. I glory in the sacred sight; At noon, full heavenly is their light. Yet I feel a vague despair From a sighing in the air. The innocent glory may have come too soon Under a false ill-fated moon; And a jealous wind, and proud. May weave for each hope its dismal shroud. 58 Voices of Joy SUMMER WHITE-CAPS White lips come up all over the lake Snow-white, and w^hite as death, To sip from the mellow friendly wind Its soft sustaining breath. They chatter with each other very gay, For the wind is full and fair, And the sun is kissing the pure white lips Quite tenderly everywhere. THE PINES I have tarried in the bosom of the pines And they asked me of my grief, Thinking they might have relief For my pain. So I told them how it came And I gently called her name. But the music that is theirs. Like a whisper on the stairs In a palace old and lonely and forgot, Sweet and low, and artist-wrought. Changed to chanting with a sigh For the one who had to die. And I had a sweet relief Of my ever-burning grief From the music in the bosom of the pines; From the music of the sympathetic pines. 59 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy Oh, the music in the bosom of the pines! I shall hold them fast; and tell All the syllables that fell In my heart When I next am asked to share With another heavy care, Or his sorrow, or his woe. If he cannot swiftly go Yor the comfort in the bosom of the pines. Oh, the chanting with a sigh For my love who had to die! — All the syllables are pure, All the syllables endure, Which I heard within the bosom of the pines ! 60 foices of Joy AFTER READING ARCHIBALD LAMP- MAN'S POEMS Sometimes it seems that thou hast sung all songs Which one could ever care to sing, so whole, So splendid, nature-fed, thy grasp of soul. To thee the honor of thy land belongs, O minstrel of the millet and the lake. Whose spirit fine I would the world could take And make its own. Then nature's perfectness Would get her God-planned chance to teach and bless ; For men would have the inner sight to see, The open heart to feel her meaning imagery- Let us go on who have begun to learn Like this fond fellow of the sun, the ways Of bird and stream, the wholesome joy of days Amid the flowers and the bees; to yearn For conscience that shall be full clear beside Great troops of lilies fair, all satisfied With what their Maker, who is wise, hath given; Or in the presence of the grass hard driven By thoughtless winds, that shows in every blade A sweet simplicit} of lieart both sure and staid. 6i Children s Voices and Voices of Joy Alas, that thou has left us in thy prime, O Lampman, leader great and true! we need Thee who are weaklings of old fancy's breed To give us courage for the things sublime; We need to put our hands in thine and mount To heights where masks are laid aside, where count No more the foolish foibles we have heard Among self-centred men. Alas, no word From thee will come again ! And we are lost And fatherless mid beauty, silence, and the frost. THE OPEN HILL Sometimes the city makes me glad, Sometimes her joy can thrill; But oh, 't is not the joy I had Upon the open hill. To sit upon a robe of grass, See morning come with song Outpouring from the birds that pass In gay familiar throng; To read at noon a message bright Unto one's busy soul. From out the long, long lines of light That back and forward roll; 63 Voices of Joy To rise from off the sunny lea, And, mounting up at will, The master of yourself to be Upon the open hill; Ah, these are joys we never know Who, by our fate compelled, Must up and down a city go, In streets be ever held. We have our pomp, our wisdom true; Our music, arts, and fames; But open hills and stars and dew To us are only names. A broken reed my heart would be Could I not think me still Of early days God gave to me Upon an open hill. 63 Children s Voices and Voices of Joy THE WISE WORD, THE TRUE WORD He has the wise word, he has the true word Of solace, or joy, Who hears the great Voice in the wind, Who lists the soft Voice in the rain Of late April days. When Spring is in the white heat Of her marvelous conjuring. He has the wise word, he has the true word Of solace, or joy. Who sees the dim sprites in the woods At autumn tide. Full fairy-some, groping in the soft haze After sweet dreams almost melodious In their felt silences. He has the wise word, he has the true word Of solace, or joy, Whose heart is lighted by the bright stars; Who anp^uishes with a breaking wave On a lonely shore; Who reads the wide high skies to find Eternal truth for humankind. 64 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 018 407 739 5 .^: ^: