Class Book **-^- .1_' : , ■•'. S%4?~\ Copyright N°_ fua. COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. FOUND IN A DLRLL1CT O.UEEN OF THE NIGHT* AND OTHER POEMS BY GEORGE HUGH BANNING WITH ILLUiTRATlOrtS BY LOREN BARTON FOUND IN A DERELICT: "QUEEN OF THE NIGHT" AND OTHER POEMS FOUND IN A DERELICT: -QUEEN OF THE NIGHT" AND OTHER POEMS BY GEORGE HUGH BANNING WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY LOREN ROBERTA BARTON If/ NINETEEN NINETEEN THE MURRELL PRINTING CO. LOS ANGELES Copyright, 1919 By GEORGE HUGH BANNING Los Angeles ©CI.A529108 MAR I8i9 To My Mother FOREWORD r i J learn from the experiences of others is an art few can sincerely boast of. The things we are taught while bouncing over the rough spots here and there are perhaps the very things Grandfather could have told us had we shown a willingness to listen. Still it is this im- petus, this innate and mute initiative, that not only dom- inates but becomes intricate and pervasive in youth. It was not until late introspection that I was impelled to realize that the motives of my venture — the venture that frames the setting of this book — were not the motives that I had laid down before my inquisitors. Had I told them the true reasons, I should have admitted that about my- self which perhaps they had outgrown, that which they could have no sympathy with, but that which constructs the elemental substance and soul of youth. And so I sub- consciously fashioned an ultramotive and refused to ad- mit, even to myself, that it was not intrinsic. Thus dis- guised, I passed the censors and stepped into a new world. I was a sailor! — a long-haired, tar-dobbed, hickory-clad, sun-blacked, "sea-dog" ! I was destined to cross the ocean before the mast of a "wind-jammer," to visit strange lands, strange seas, and strange people ; to encounter destructive winds, fires, and mutiny; in short, I was to become ac- quainted with the real life of the sea. Here I learned that the stories we read of such an existence are not the mere pages of a book, nor the creative genius of Stevenson, Conrad, and Masefield; nay, the romance of the sea is immortal, its powers — unconquerable, and its story is never told. In the following pages I have taken much from the life as I have found it. "QUEEN OF THE NIGHT" was roughly outlined and many fragmentary sections were written in just that part of the globe the verses describe. In fact, the greater part of the experiences are true! Of [VII] course such a tragedy in the first person would never have left the author to write this foreword since the entire poem was presumably FOUND IN A DERELICT; nevertheless the reader must not fail to detect an allegory rather than an impossibility. Although few of the subsequent verses pertain to the present time, still it was conceived that they may yet do their bit, and it is thru this media that the present edition has found its way to the printers. Miss Barton has again allowed herself to be drafted, as she has done so many times before, in giving her time and best efforts to the Red Cross with all the enthusiasm and purpose of the men "over there". During the process of publication, when we encountered all the envolutions and concomitant mys- teries of many printing presses, she was not only the illus- trator but she was the supervisor of the entire book from an artistic standpoint limited as she was by the "business management". Picture yourself asking a printer to put out a publication at cost in these times. But because it IS "these times," because the Red Cross "needs the money," and because every cent paid down for this book is FOR the Red Cross, The Murrell Printing Co. has fallen in line and has done just that thing. Next to follow was the Aristo Engraving Company of Los Angeles, and it is needless to say that their generosity is appreciated. In hoc signo vincemus! In conclusion I wish to thank Mr. Wayland Smith, Mr. Dhan Gopal Mukerji, and my dear mother for the interest they have taken and the valuable suggestions they have offered in the reconstruction of the original manuscripts. We leave the rest — perhaps not the easiest task — to the saleswomen of THE RED CROSS SHOP. — George Hugh Banning. [ VIII ] CONTENTS FOUND IN A DERELICT: page "Queen of the Night" 3 SONGS OF NATURE: Singing 19 The Flying Merman 20 To John Masefield 21 Off the Reef 22 Premonition 23 A Contrast 24 Sunrise on the Ocean 25 The Muse 26 Little Things 27 Ukulele 28 Becalmed 29 The Dream Song 30 The Mariner's Accordion 31 SONGS OF LIFE: Echoes 32 Sad Waves 33 "Despair" 34 Souls on the Sea of Time 35 Drift Wood 36 Gone! 37 Wine 38 Every Man 39 Lines of Loneliness 40 [IX] CONTENTS— ( Continued ) Pilot of the Night Watch 41 The Blind Beggar 42 SONGS OF LOVE: Tanka to 44 You 45 Woodland Stars 46 A Promise 47 Sun-flower 48 The Lost Song 49 Forget-me-not 50 The Pathfinder 51 SONGS OF THE WAR: Mothers 52 Redemption 53 To Walt Whitman 54 Carry On 55 A Soldier's Will to One Unborn .... 56 Dry Docked . 57 The Legacy of Death 58 [X] $&&£&) tk f #5#$ FOUND IN A DERELICT: "QUEEN OF THE NIGHT" FOUND IN A DERELICT: "QUEEN OF THE NIGHT" " 'And this old schooner bears that hoodoo name!' The old sailmaker paused. 'It seems a shame!' Said he, measuring off a stitch, 'Here's number two!' He was sewing a seaman's coffin, 'But it's true The name, 'Queen o' the Night,' belongs to a plant — Why they named this old hulk that I can't Quite understand. A pretty name, no doubt ; And a pretty flower too — hey there, lookout! You're steppin' on it, — see! — no matter how Black and smutted up he was, somehow We want the clothes he'll sleep in sort o' clean To hide 'im like. But as I was sayin', I seen That flower grow on islands not so far From where we waller now. 'The Southern Star,' She called there once. How fond they was of me — Them native girls : there's one especially ! — Well sir, 'twas a happy, happy hour! — I sort o' see her there. She picked a flower And told me how it faded in the light Of early morning, so, 'Queen o' the Night' She calls it, or in French (they spoke it there Sometimes), 'La Reine de la Nuit,' so that is where This helpless, hell-bound jammer gets the name. [3] May be all right enough, but all the same That name and this here sleepin'-bag remind me Of all the hell I thought I'd left behind me. And here we are, half calmed, the old hulk drinkin' Enough salt water — well — I call it sinkin ! Damn this needle! — rusted! — yep, I'll say All the bloody gears 'as seen their day!' "He paused and went to humming some quaint lay. I left him there. Slowly turning away Half dreamingly, I sought the jolly-boat To be alone ; then, half asleep, I wrote, Or emptied from my soul each mystic thought That the old sailmaker's babblings had brought." " 'THE SCHOONER' " " 'At Capricorn near Tuomotus seas, Where all the world is summer and the breeze Blows warm with salty fragrance; where the sun Sets glossy clouds to steaming as they run And disappear like sylphs into the sky; Where two-arched rainbows live, and love, and die; Where cannonading meteors, at night, Like star-shells, flood the glossy world with light While tumbling shadows stagger o'er the brine In drunk stupidity. Where sparkling ivine From phosphorescent waves keeps glowing — blinking- Till man nor ghost of man can hold from drinking Wine the cloud-men feed their flocks of sheep on, Wine that ship and crew fall fast asleep on: Here a spell-bound schooner slept and snored With four-and-twenty seamen there aboard. [4] She ivaved her chafing sails about each mast As one by one the oily grounders passed; She swayed, and in her dreams she moaned a song, Or jerked her booms impatiently, 'How long!' She cried, for all her blocks and shackles, Brales, braces, halliards, sheets, down-hauls and tackles, — All were worn. God, what monotony Of weeks and weeks and weeks! The agony Of days that, like the world, went round and round Seemed dull and endless. All the world was bound In beauty unobtainable. But she Kept drinking, drinking, drinking, hopefully That wonders of the world would be her lot — But she was sinking, and she knew it not!' " "Thus the verses ended. Innocent Was I of words or what the phrases meant; The occult warning faded with the light, And dreams of magic islands, through the night, Bore me to the 'vex'd Bermoothes' where dwells The dwarfish Caliban ; then brassy bells, Bells, bells, bells! — that sickening clang Was drowning everything; they rang, and rang! Something — wrong! Indeed I waked to know That those upon the 'Dog' had turned below ; My watch turned to. Half numbed with stiffened neck I blundered from the jolly-boat to deck." [5] II "Two months — two long and weary months at sea We grumbled through our toils. Impatiently We dreamed of all but that which spread its charms Broadcast about us. Nay, our aching arms Reached for that which we, two months ago, Had cursed and left. But now we suffered. Oh, What folly! What childishness! What involution The hungry wanderlust — that mad solution Of Finding — leads us to! What were we seeking? Why were we here upon this rolling, leaking Schooner? Lo, the fuse of mutiny Was burning through the focsle, while silently, Watch and watch, the pump shifts toiled away, Watch and watch she leaked until one day The tired crew rebelled: they'd pump no more! Triumphant in revolt we turned for shore. "* , "A day, another day, till, through the clouds Clustering like dark and dingy shrouds About the shade of some long sought oasis, we Beheld an island dim. In ecstacy The wave-worn hearts leaped up, the tiding spread. Then, like a sudden shock to wake the dead, The great ship trembled, listed hard a-lea, A fresh breeze off the quarter waked the sea, The tiny white caps, through the glassy waves, Like ghosts of Hallowe'en came from their graves. Along the salt-white rails with straining eyes, Our gaze anticipating Paradise, We stood, all silenced lest our voices break The wondrous spell. We feared that we should wake. [6] We beheld an island dim. "How oft' have such anticipations led Where nude Reality entombs her dead ; How oft' have drunken dreams been torn away To crypts where ghouls of fact consume their prey. But thou, Anticipation, make us brave ; And Humor, lead us smiling to the grave. "This in one fleet trice imbued my mind To see those anxious faces in the wind With tousled locks and beards men grow at sea Only to postpone the monotony Of seeing each same face without a change Day after day. Oh God! for something strange! Something dreamed about but never seen ! Thus every gaze was fixed upon the sheen Of fire clouds that hung above the crown Of one small isle — perhaps a little town — Where waving, dreamy palm-trees grew and made A place of rest, pouring down their shade To thirsting souls. Scarce God could understand Two months at sea, — then land! Oh peaceful land ! "Land! and such as this ! — Oh magic isle, Be thou as we see thee 'neath a file Of gold-rimmed clouds, and thou thyself a part: A sky-grown dream ; a heart within a heart. On sang my soul, and, ere the song was done, The cloud men, through their fire looms, had spun A blue and crimson tapestry bedight With clustered stars descending with the night. [7] "And there the Book was read — the only part That through those long, dark months we'd learned by heart. The old sail-maker bowed his head in prayer; He was the only one who seemed to care; To have his careful work thrown overboard Was worth a thought, and so he thanked the Lord That the mate was gone and never coming back, Carefully tucked and sewed within the sack That his own hands had made. But all the rest Were thinking of the island for the blest: To-morrow's port. We were the chosen few To walk in Paradise. What cared our crew For one thus damned ? — With these our prayers expended, The plank was tilted up. A long day ended." Ill "Early dawn. A lonely lookout — I, Listening to the bubbles splashing by, The restless sheet-blocks jerking at their bales, The lazy down-hauls slapping at their sails, The clatter, clatter 'neath the focsle-head Of fire buckets idle in their bed, Listening to the breeze against the leech Of trembling jibs, or wondering at the reach Of two spread arms above the other spars Embracing one vast universe of stars, Or watching gold-green phosphorous mites that play Along the water line to fade away And die in whirring masses as they break The liquid fire film along the wake. [8] "But lo! from purple springs a tinted gray! One by one the star-lamps burn away ; One by one the clouds, like ghosts reborn. Blush at their own splendor till the morn Has made the world an opal set in gold. Lo! the vapor curtains rise! — Behold! A dream incarnate ! God! before my eyes, The isle, the sea, the ivorld is Paradise ! "As times of plenty presage future dearth, Dream bubbles burst and tumble back to earth: There at anchor 'neath the white-hot sun Boxes, drums, and barrels ; one by one We hauled aboard. How like small children — we, On Christmas-eve when blind anxiety Anticipates tomorrow's ample store ; Thus all our hearts had drifted to the shore Where, through the trees, along the cool highway, Shadow children joined in shadow play; Shadow men — dark men — with naked feet, Tripped noiselessly along the shadow street ; Red, yellow, blue and purple, here and there, Like drunken Autumn leaves without a care, — This way and that. What difference to a band Of happy shadow-folk in Shadowland? "But still in passive greed we drudged away Until the bell was sounded and the day Was carefully cashed within the money drawer, While we, with empty pockets, pulled ashore. [9] Empty pockets? Nay, — deeper curses: Our hearts were empty — empty as our purses. Fools! — blind fools! — We grumbled as we walked, Cursing, vowing vengeance, as we talked. The breeze had turned its song to mockery, The dusk was pouring money in the sea ! The shadow children fled, the beauties all Crumbled with the Shadow-city wall. Yet there we were 'midst all the things we'd sought: We walked in Paradise, and knew it not." IV "The crowd dispersed. Alone, forlorn, I went Along the shabby pathway. Discontent Walled in my soul with purpose to preclude That art of panning gold from solitude. But lo! before the mural blind was made There came a voice ! a song ! My soul obeyed ! Half dead, it stirred. It rose. It cried aloud! In modulation shook the mountain cloud ! The echoes crashed. They thundered 'twixt the stars. The moon dropped out, then Jupiter and Mars! My breath was gone, and ere my wits returned, Darkness in celestial pyres burned. "Upon the moon-paved waters of the bay, Hours, years, nay ages, sailed away. Behold the dancing shadows 'round the trees! What happy dryads own more grace than these? I watched until beside me smiling there Stood a maid with flowers in her hair, — White flowers — white like lilies — with such grace [10] They seemed to drink sweet nectar from her face And shine with sparkling dew the silvered skies Had drunk when drinking tear-drops from her eyes. Beneath the pillared foliage, half entranced, We rested while the other shadows danced. She spoke. I spoke — or whispered lest I wake The emerald dream that drifted from the lake. She closed her eyes ; perhaps the dazzling light From her own soul had closed them. Ah, how bright Even to me that midnight darkness seemed ! Perhaps / closed my eyes! Perhaps I dreamed! "For, as I gazed upon that form so rare, She moved, she picked a flower from her hair! 'Take this,' she said, 'this blossom, pure and white — 'La Reine de la Nuit' pour vous, 'Queen of the Night'! It is my soul blossoming when the mist Of night has fallen down on earth and kist The folded petals. Lo ! as if from dreams, It moves, it turns its head, it seems To wake, to see, to drink the harmony That echoes from the lyres of sky and sea ; It catches every trembling light that cleaves Its blinky pathway through the waving leaves; It sings of starland ; bathes in fragrant bliss — Take it — my flower, — here is Happiness.' "I seized the trembling plant. My passions grew. I bore it to my breast as if I knew Its life was mine ; as if I could devour That beauty from the soul that made the flower. [11] I clutched it ! kissed it ! called its name aloud ! Oh God, it seemed its petals were endowed With all my senses, yet some sense divine — I knew not what — but swore it should be mine! "I gazed upon the maiden lying there. I gazed upon the flower to compare: They looked the same ; ah me, I hardly knew Which blossom was the brighter of the two. As the water images the bower, Her being was inscribed upon the flower. It was her soul, so bright — so bright that she Was All, Perfect, Pure as soul could be. "But envy comes to conquer, envy burns What little virtue man's poor being earns. I clutched her, kissed her, — God could not have stayed me ! She, like the flower, trembled and obeyed me. I drank the wine that she alone could offer! I crammed her love like gold into my coffer! I gouged the moon and stars from out their sockets And crumpled clouds to fit my empty pockets. The world — the universe — was in my power! Drunk with delight I gripped the glowing flower And with it staggered to the open sea : A conqueror with spoils of victory." V "Early dawn. A lonely lookout — I, Listening to the bubbles splashing by, The restless sheet-blocks jerking at their bales, The lazy down-hauls slapping at their sails. [12] There behind me fades the coral bay, The jagged mountains slowly blur away; The dark mist falls, and now the black clouds take The liquid turquoise from our bubbling wake. 'Come back!' I cried, 'Come back!' — there came a dull And mocking laughter from a passing gull. 'Come back! Come back!' again, again I cried! — Thus with a 'hiss' the sea and sails replied. I stretched my aching fingers in despair. I reached, I grasped — I grasped the vapid air! Half mad I fell. (Still dimmer lay the strand.) God! What is this? The flower in my hand ! Wilted, drooping, tarnished and forlorn, With bleeding stem and streaked petals torn, It lay, a helpless victim of my hand, Dying like the hills of Shadow-land ; Dying like my soul, oh flower white, Farewell forever! Love, 'Queen of the Night'! "Eight bells! The watch was done. Each seaman slunk From wheel, deck watch, or locker to his bunk. The Starboard men, half dazed from sleep, like ghosts, Relieved the wheel and filled their sailing posts. 'Turn in!' the lookout said, 'Eight bells! — I swear You look most like the Devil standin' there — A-standin' there before the Starboard light All green and pale-like . . . Lordy, what a night!' I turned away but stood behind the mast And leaned against the pin-rail. All aghast I watched the silhouettes in shabby rout Move here and there. I heard the 'Second' shout [13] 'Hey, lend a hand! — you there! — to brace the yard. Once more ! And again ! Make fast ! don't loose 'er pard. All right: the sheet! — good! — Together sing! Wait! get 'Handy Bill'! — there — the ring! Yo-hee, oh-ho\ Well done! Take up that slack! Lean on it! break it! once more! bring 'er back! Haul taught! Make fast! Now Spanker-sheet, and Main: She's haulin' off the quarter now again. You, Scottie, lay aloft and clear that brale, She's foul near the goose-neck. See the sail? You'd think a crew of farmers put to sea — God damn this breeze! Get aft, Andrew, fer me! Tell him t' haul 'er east-nor'-east about. Oh Gus! up there. I say! keep a sharp lookout!' 'For lights or rocks ?' replied the focsle-head. 'For everything — and reefs!' the 'Second' said. 'Makin' leaway! wind abaft the beam! I've never seen the likes — I'd never dream A bloody man could have the crust t' build A log so helpless. Now, with oil tanks filled, And gas-pumps suckin' bilge t' God, and store And water-tanks all full — Good Lord ! what more Would any proper sailin' vessel need ? But here we are t' sea again. Indeed As helpless as before ! Just see that wake ! Four points t' windward ! Lord, I bet we make The rocky coast of Hell before we see Old Diamond Head again. . . . Take it from me!' "And so they talked and grumbled, spat and swore; It seemed that all our efforts to restore [14] 'Hey, lend a hand !— you there!— to brace the yard.' The voyage to hopefulness were drowned in gloom ; For what is man beneath the hand of Doom? What is mortal will when Destiny Controls the winds and currents of the sea? And so I stood imprisoned in my own Dark cell of circumstance; — I, alone, Unfixed for sleep or toil, unable, too, To listen to the chanties of the crew, Felt the helpless, heated coals of yearning Deep in unfrequented soul-pits burning. Regret is Wisdom, but alas, how late Such knowledge comes to tangle with our fate ! Man thinks and acts only as he wills ; But, like the river winding through the hills, There's but one way to go : the way it went, Though like some mountain torrent purpose bent To wash away time-planted rocks and flow To realms where none but it had dared to go, It's all the same ; even as the day Must presage night, there is no other way. All is like a map to Destiny ; All that ever has been had to be; All that is can be no other way; Circumstance commands! We must obey Although we follow through the depths of scum And eat the dregs that worms are breeded from, Or though, like earthly Gods, we fill the age And feel the joy of Christ's own heritage, It's one with Destiny, whose mate is Cause ; They paint life's masterpiece and shape the laws. [15] Yet there is that in man, deep and rebelling, That cries aloud, sans reason, but compelling Him to think, though God must shape the whole He himself is master of his soul. "Then off I went again to the jolly-boat With purpose to forget, and glibly wrote Whatever seeped from out the overflow That swelled some vault within. How could I know The meaning of those hurried words — not them — But what relief to watch my trickling pen." " 'THE FLOWER' " " 'In Papeete, Tahiti's sunny shore, Where men and women wear, well, little more Than nature has provided. Where one sees Mangos and bananas grow on trees, And cocoa-palms, like forests, even to The emerald ocean side. Where all the blue Beyond the coral reef reflects the glozu Of the giant moon. Where ocean breezes blow From the Island of Moorea dreamingly , Upon a mossy stream-bank, lonesomely Beside the little cocoa-jungle, there Sat a sun-browned maid, and in her hair White flowers were entwined. How they resembled The purity of moonbeams as they trembled Glowingly upon her face and breast And on the maiden ferns that lined her nest. 'She sighed, and from the wreath upon her head She plucked a flower. 'To be like thee' she said. 'Just to be like thee, ok magic flower, To love and be loved for this one dark hour, When at dawn the great sun climbs the sky [16] 'Here's number three!' Gladly would I fade with thee, and die!' As she spoke the great moons silver beams Weighed heavily, and from a sea of dreams Her lover came in raptures to her charms, For she was beautiful. There in his arms She drank the wine that he alone could offer. She crammed his love like gold into her coffer, She gouged the moon and stars from out their sockets, And crumpled clouds to fit her empty pockets. The world — the universe — was in her power, Drunk with delight she watched the fading flower, For now the sun was rising zuhite and hot. . . . She was dying and she knew it not.' " "Thus the verse concluded ; then it seems I drifted off — far off — to sleep and dreams ; I saw the old sailmaker busily Sewing on a bag. 'Here's number three!' He said, and eyed me as he drew The needle out again and palmed it through. He measured me once more from heel to head — 'I guess it's plenty long enough !' he said. . . . But now the great ship shivered, twitched, and twisted! A rumble from the cargo hatch ! she listed ! Timbers cracked and crashed ! I heard a roar Like breakers thundering upon the shore. White foam swept the decks ! The cries of men, Like waves of life on cliffs of doom, again And again were mocked by echoes. I Was conscious of my dreaming, but to try To force my mind to wakefulness would be To find another dream more true ; to see The wretched sailors grovelling in waves [17] That were to swallow them and seal their graves. So on I slept — how long? I never knew Till tides of horror ebbed and bore me to A haunted stillness — stillness so like death The beating of my heart, my surging breath Awoke me! . . . "Oh, thou, if ever there should be Some one to find what's left of mine and me, Ask me not how came this bitter end Nor these few inky splutterings I've penned ; / am the end ! I, exiled, outcast From life and death. Even to the last Behold me now ! The luckless ship is gone ; God knows when or where, perhaps the dawn Shall find her wreck on some unchartered shoal — 'Queen of the Night' tattered as the soul That's wasting here adrift in the jolly-boat! Adrift ! and all alone ! My burning throat Is caked with salt, my lips, my tongue shall burst Even as my heart ! This gnawing thirst, This Hell of hunger, world of appetite, Has found a willing victim, reaped delight In devastation, joy in ruthless plunder, Torn me down to darkness, dragged me under! Oh let these lines, however crude they be, If found, be all the world has left of me ; For lo ! the sea grows pale ; its hungry eyes Are red with blood reflection. All the skies Have horded up life's treasures as their own And left me dying — dying and alone. Oh dawn of day, thou art the soul's twilight ; Life — the flower of dreams — Queen of the Night." [FINIS] [18] Oh dawn of day, thou art the soul's twilight ; Life — the flower of dreams — Queen of the Night. life, thou arf only the shadow Of a Star whose silver ray Shines on screens of Destiny 6cr endless shatioiv play. i SINGING The sea turns the pages of darkness For the jewels of her temple to see; The winds put the stanzas to music, And my soul sings the music to me. O God, could I sing as my soul does, I'd sing to the world-wide throng, And the world, as the wind, would be singing With me to the soul of my song. [19] THE FLYING MERMAN When the crystal sea, in the dead of night, Is awed by the tranquil sky, And the world is wrapped in a purple light As the moon and the stars sail by, I swim from the depth of a silent dream In search of the distant light ; Like a streak of gold I glide on the beam That paves the path of night. Then I fall and am lost in the blue chiffon All spangled in gold and white ; Again and again I appear, but am gone Like the flash from a beacon light. Then I fly to the lure of the sapphire dome To frighten the moon and Mars, Then fall to scatter the spangled foam That shines like a million stars. Like a will-o'-the-wisp or a lightning dart, Like a goblin or silver sprite, Or the arrow that pierces a lonely heart Adrift on the waves at night; I know the world, yet none know me, As silently I roam From the stars of the sky to the purple sea Where I vanish in snow-white foam. [20] TO JOHN MASEFIELD (After reading "Dauber") You came as an ocean billow, And burst on the sands of time Till the crust of its surface rippled To the pulse of an ocean rhyme: The rhyme of the wind and the water, The rhyme of each tiny star That follows the wake of a vessel And silvers the frost on the spar. Hear the creak of the blocks, and the humming Of wind on a trembling shroud, Like the ghost of a tempest drumming On the soul of a vanishing cloud. Hear the song of a man that lived it, And knew what it was to sail Through life with the sheet strands cracking 'Fore the breath of the Master Gale. It was never the dream of summer When the wind and sails agree, But the battle with Fate when thunder Wakens the rage of the sea. But you've painted your God as you found him When the soul of your song began, And you've taken the beauty that crowned him To color the hearts of man. [21] OFF THE REEF Have you ever heard the splash, splash, splashing as I go, And the foaming, combing ruffle on my pearly, curly crest ? Have you heard the swish and splashing on the rocks where I am dashing As I roll from out the rainbow arch of triumph in the west ? I greet the merry babble of the rushing rivers' rabble As they turn their troubled torrents to the forces of my foam, Then athwart the sea I dash to the music of my splash, And I'm laughing at the lightning darts that cross the stellar dome. I'm the god of force and motion; I'm the monarch of the ocean ! The ever-changing, ever-moving mass of water, I. Though I splash, and roll, and change, to myself I'm never strange. For the blue that Heaven gave me is the light that cannot die. [ 22 ] PREMONITION From cro'jicks to the skysail-yards There comes a restless groan ; The sheet-blocks, swinging to and fro, Complain with fretful moan ; The port and starboard running-lights, From out the mist, half lost, Are blinking — frozen half asleep — Thru green and crimson frost. Beside a bit I take the caulk Before the blinking red ; But thru the lashes of my eyes — There on the topsail-head — Above the kites — the futtock shrouds Where sky-top yard-arms cross, I see a white, a something white! — It is an albatross! I listen, lo, it speaks to me! The words are faint and far: "The salty soul of a seaman, I ; The tragic tale of a tar. You sleep tonight where I once slept On the deck of a luckless whaler, Sleep well my lad, for soon you'll be The salty soul of a sailor." [23] A CONTRAST While the waves were sighing A voice came from afar Like spirit-echoes flying From a sunken star. Inky seas around me Shattered at the prow ; A twinkling pageant found me Where dreams would find me now. But now the sea's in laughter, The wind enjoins with cheers, And my soul drifts after In the sea's forgotten tears. The echoes change to thunder And die upon the shoal; The stars flare out from under The crypt that binds my soul. [24] SUNRISE ON THE OCEAN Rays, like colored ribbons streaming From the castle walls of night, Awaken emerald-bubbled, dreaming Waves to golden rifts of light. Billows catch the rainbow shaded Fairies at their May-pole play To weave the web of cloud-yarn braided Thru the golden loom of Day. 25] THE MUSE (A Tribute to a Contemporary Poet) She flies as an opal dream to thee Over a topaz sea That chimes with the bells of planets and the moon. She drifts as the silken harmony That rings in a dream And carries the voice of stars in silver tune. She flies as a snowy albatross From the mist across The vision of an exiled, lonely soul, And wakes the voice for waves to toss Carelessly Until they beat with thunder on the shoal. [26] LITTLE THINGS Can you think of a time when memory's wings Shall drift to a world of little things On years that follow away? Can you think of a smirk, or a frown, and yet Smile at it all, and almost forget That years have borne you away? Can you think of a time when the hours pass Thru the amber light of an upturned glass? — Can you ever forget those hours when You are only a man in a world of men, And years are rolling away? — Think if you can of the smallest thing: A tree, a beast, or a man ; Think, if you will, of a little place In the pine-tree shade, — or a little face — A stump, a grove, A kitchen stove, Or a three-legged stool, if you can. It's the little things that wind their way In silence to the heart, And we hardly know, and hardly care ; We hardly look — just find them there With little things — Real little things That years have borne apart. [27] UKULELE Her dusky head upon my breast, Her song, with snow-white wings, Sails on night-veiled seas to rest Born from love's heart strings. She sings the purple waves to sleep While each star blinks his eye ; The crescent moon sinks in the deep On white quilts from the sky. [28] BECALMED Capeila rises to her throne And wears a wintry crown ; While the scepter of Orion to The wilted sails points down. The clouds, like drifting hulks of ice, Have quenched the frozen moon ; The sea — a sheet of icy steel — Has ceased her fettered tune. The seagull, like a ghost of dawn, Appears, but fades away, As the scarlet genii of the west Has swallowed up the day. The white sails seem to tremble, for They see the phantom pass That glides away with all the world, Except a sea of glass. And now there's only silent sleep On quilts of mist that fall; But while Thy mirror sleeps, O God, It dreams, and echoes all. [29] THE DREAM SONG Peace sailed down on the moon-path With wings for the soul of sleep That bore me away where the planet-bells Were chiming the songs of the deep. And the nymphs of the wind were singing New songs to the ocean's lyre, Till my soul, like a sun-glazed sabre, Cut free from my body's fire. And lo ! I could sing with the phantoms That danced to our magic lay Of the sea when the stars are shining, And the moon-path fires play. But I woke ! The sails, against a cloud, Hissed at the wind ; the bowsprit ploughed Into a wave whose snowy shroud Spread over as it died. Gaunt, grizzled clouds, as black as coal, Revealed no stars, but still the roll Throbbed with my heart, and in my soul The stars dropped out again. Thoughts of my dream, like echoes, burst Into my heart — a scorching thirst ; I strove to sing the song that first Broke through the wall of dreams. Somewhere the words, like leeches, hung Behind my lips — they bit my tongue ! But lo! the song my dream had sung Sank back into my soul. [30] THE MARINER'S ACCORDION Still the night, and all the world around Was wrapped in crystal star-light, while the sea Wore garnet chains upon her pulsing breast That linked my soul to Heaven's harmony. The pipe starred faces of each phantom man Waxed and waned as billows rose and fell ; The smoke curled up and vanished like a dream Or wilting fancies winged with rapture's spell. My heart soared up in fire till it shone On memory of days and faces gone ; My soul, white heated, burned the world away! — The Mariner's accordion played on! 31 j J ^Jj arincrs, stand fcylthouqh ivill 13c baffled by the Chester Gale: Che ship is lost! -so life- but still f)oiv can fiis purpose fail? ^ ECHOES Saturn's golden ring is far away, And Mercury that flies with sun-bathed wings; My heart is tossed amain with wind and spray, And yet how faint and far such beauty sings. I've never heard the breaker sound the shoal Lest other waves resound as from afar; I've never heard the song-bird air his soul Unless the carol echoes from a star. [32] SAD WAVES Sad waves, sad waves, rolling by; Rolling still away, while I Give heart and soul to thee. From out the opal sunset's burning I see thy goal, but no returning Waves across the sea. Farewell, oh waves that lift my bark And bear my love to seas of dark When twilight veils her beams ; If, God, all love and life must part, Break, sad waves, my wasting heart On sunset's shore of dreams. [33] "DESPAIR" {As painted by Perham Nahl) An island gray, surrounded by a sea Of boundlessness — unfathomable, and cold ; On rocks more gray and gaunt than all the waves Kneels the outcast — toy of Destiny — With drooping head and wind-blown, withered locks Blinding him to all but hopelessness. Hark the ghost-waves moaning at the cliff At whose brink he, kneeling, hesitates! Cold the night — more cold than all the rocks, And colder too than the steel-blue, icy waves ; Much colder, yea, than even Death itself ; One precipice, one final step is all ! The isle transcended, where now can he turn? Go back ? — Turn back ? — Nay, this can never be ! The mighty crag behind from which he fell Precludes it all — God! what is that? A light! — A golden light upon the waves! A ship ! — A ship ? — See, see how dim it shines ; But still it lends its glimmer to the sea. Yet how the breakers beat against the cliff! They call ! They call ! beckoning him to come ! The light has left the sea! It climbs the sky! And lo, 'tis nothing but the morning star: The messenger of dawn to light the way To Death's immortal darkness in the sea. [34] SOULS ON THE SEA OF TIME Like crystals of the ocean Comes each day. Some spark of light — a flash! — That fades away. They come ! They go ! — and yet They're never gone. Each lives to die, and calls The next one on. One by one the twinkling Echoes die, As flowers, birds and beasts — As you and I. Each light — a life, but, watching From afar, Behold their Maker shining As a star. [35] DRIFT WOOD Helpless sticks, decayed and rotten, Born like puppets of a child ; Tossed, and shattered, then forgotten, Where the ranks of the dead are filed ; Had you eyes like mine to see with, Could you find your rocky doom ? With lips to speak, then could you plead with God to lay aside your tomb? On your way, poor helpless splinters, Ask no senses, for they find That summers are to pilot winters Through the labyrinth of mind. And what is mind? What is it made of? Can we trust it when we know We fear what "Faith" is unafraid of ; Live, lament the seed we sow ? Oh men (poor wave-tossed hypocrites), We too are doomed to drift alee And share the morgue with trashy bits Of useless timber, lost at sea. [36] GONE! The breaker sadly moans Resounding from the stones ; The echoes fade in canyons far beyond the reach of ears: It's gone — what e'er it be ! Sad day, or jollity! Gone forever to the hungry genii of the years. Reminiscence — vague recall — Echoes coldly from the wall Where seconds are the mouldy stones turned green from senseless tears. But still my being calls for dawn! — Yet sullen shadows answer, "Gone!" [37] WINE And is this life ? — A hopeless fight to know The soul and source Of dreams that come, and go; A restless struggle For the ever-far ; A helpless worship Of a fancied star? The flowers nod Before they fade away ; The winds sigh "Yes" Before the death of day; The billows rise, But crash upon the stones. Life offers laurels To our wasting bones. My soul, confess! This, then, to death be thine: As joy breeds sorrow, Happiness is wine. [38] EVERY MAN The dark clouds see the silver sun above. I see it not. The saffron maiden of the west is love. I find her not. . . . The clouds blow by! the sky is clear! I see ! I see ! — but still I hear The moaning of the western breeze Softly sighing thru the trees, "I prayed, I longed, I toiled, I fought, I strove to grasp! — But found it not." [39] LINES IN LONELINESS Ne'er returning — summers spent — Glad songs of only yesterday, How listlessly your blossoms fade As dying echoes, far away ! What blissful spells those fairy wings Of cloudfleece wafted over me ! — Oh God, how many million stars Have sunk, unnoticed, in the sea! But when they're gone, how blank the stare When realized darkness drops her veil! — I curse the calm, but rarely think To thank the breeze that fills my sail. Oh beauties braided in each dream, Let me embrace thee ere we part Lest tears that seek each sinking star Shall drown their image in my heart. [40] PILOT OF THE NIGHT WATCH In silence sleeps the crystal sphere: The noiseless echo of my star Where moves my bark with prow austere To see, O God, the things that are. The golden dipper of the skies Dips down into a sea of sorrow And bears the tears that blind my eyes To the dim bourne of tomorrow. And lo, I see! though dark the night. I hear! thought mute each sheet and spar. I grasp the helm. I see the light ! That shines upon the things that are. [41] THE BLIND BEGGAR "That I have never seen that called the light ; That I can only feel the chill of night But sense no darkness ; wherefore pity me ? Whence comes this fetish — this verb men use: 'to see'?" Two kindly eyes looked down with pitying stare ; Two eyes from one — a stranger — by him there. Quoth he, "What God forbids no code can spell — I only pity thee, but cannot tell. What joy to see the drunken flakes of snow Fall from darkness to the light below. Through semilucent mist and sleeky gleam Dim shadows weave their ways as in a dream ; Kaleidoscopic lights along the street Like pulsing phantom passions ; glossy sleet In multicolored torrents bear the glow With blush of coral to the trampled snow. All this my eyes have given me to see, But thou art blind, wherefore I pity thee, — Wert thou not blind thou also couldst behold." The beggar but replied, "The night is cold." "Then come with me, and — may the good be blessed — Faith, I shall give thee clothing, food and rest." On shuffled groups of women in a throng Of cackling men that, laughing, tracked along ; Full blown maw — rapacious, wanton, lewd, — On oozed the maudlin mass, God's bloated brood. The stranger saw and shuddered — ah, full well He knew his feet had made their tracks in hell, But now his chance had come before too late ; A kindly deed his sins to expiate! Down fell the snow — on trooped the mawkish men, The blinded beggar rose — and then — and then — "Behold! — I see the Light! — the Light!" he cried; There, in the stranger's arms, the beggar died. The street was hushed — the great crowd stood at bay — Two policemen came and hurried him away. {Over) [42] Home went the stranger. Meditations deep Grew vague and tangled in a web of sleep, But lo! the sound of footsteps on the floor Brought him from his slumbers to the door. There stood the beggar — surd felicity Played upon his lips. Lo, he could see ! "Whence comest thou?" amazed the stranger said. "From far beyond the grave — from realms of dead." "Pray where is this? Speak, brother, speak again! Thou hast been there? Describe it to me then!" The phantom eyes grew bright. "Friend, search and find, But now I pity thee, for thou art blind. What God forbids no mortal code can spell ; I only pity thee, but cannot tell." [43] Oothinq ma^ be ivhat it seems. Amtml Chank God above. Ghcrc never ivas a love of dreams find yet there arc dreams of love. TANKA TO I tossed a stone, my love, Into the mirror sea. Each soft silver ripple shone My soul's spent threnody Seeking, my love, for thee. [44] YOU Your hands have painted the sunset screen ; The ocean finds its blue From skies whose star-bright eyes reflect The eyes they gave to you. Golden ripples hear your song As day gives his heart to the sea ; When the sea gives her heart to the day, the dawn Shall follow your soul to me. The crescent moon descends to hear Your echoed siren-call — Nay, 'tis not all I find in you, But you I find in all. [45] WOODLAND STARS Strawberry blossoms, and columbine — Stars of a lonely wood — Blossom as hope for the fallen pine That reached for the sun, the moon, and the stars, When King of his forest he stood. Sweet maiden of love in life's lonely wood, The shadow of God is thine. Shine on as bright hope for a Love that stood As the pine of the forest that fell, but found The echo of stars divine. [46] A PROMISE I offered thee a heart, my love, But thou didst choose a stone: A promise, and its heart was cold — As cold as was thine own. But it shall hold though lightning sabers Cleave the skies apart ; But when the wild wind's passions wake ; When white-crest billows rise and shake, Behold ! they fall ! they beat ! — and break !- Remember, then, my heart. 47 SUN-FLOWER I slept thru golden dreams on quilts of green That spread in ample fold A vision green and gold, And crowned a golden plant my flower queen. I woke. Her eyes revealed no faded spray. But lo, the mystic flower Had closed within the hour And closing bore my happy dream away. A day — no more — God ! how I feared to rise ! — To wake — to find the light Had turned my day to night! Oh sun-god, thou hadst closed within her eyes! [48 THE LOST SONG The words were graven on my heart- The words I wrote for you. They wove the verses of a song And sang the music too. The letters — written one by one With pain that numbed my heart ; Each verse was guided on by love And all it could impart. The music, sweet as Hope's lost star, Pulsed in my heart to free Perfection of some distant dream Of your soul's harmony. Yet I could never speak the words My broken heart could say, For you have found its hiding place And stolen it away. 49 | FORGET-ME-NOT As many miles as minutes worn By fallen sands of years Precludes a shady plot of turf From this — a sea of tears. As many tears as longing thoughts; And many thoughts — forgot, Save one small flower dreams recall That said "Forget-me-not." She turned her face toward the sun, But ere I passed her by, I saw her petals, blue as all The flowers of the sky. Though hours bear me leagues away, Dreams light the woodland plot, And one small star, still shining there, Calls back, "Forget-me-not." [50] THE PATHFINDER "I go no farther." Thus spake Reason coldly. Vain argument my sober guide refuted — "No farther!" With this repetition boldly He departed, leaving, all uprooted, Blossomed hope there in my grasp to fade — The flower I had nursed — the flower God had made. I — alone. The palsied moon, half hidden, Trembled faintly on the ivied thicket ; Troubled silence gnawed the dull unbidden Rattle of the locust and the cricket. A mazed delirium, a world awry — A foundered dream, a dying hope, a curse, and I. Chaotic nothingness — cold — depressing, Tangled roots and cactus underbrushes. Desperate wonderment and mottled guessing Overwhelmed me like the flood that rushes Past its bounds to some well-ordered town, To flood the busy streets and wash the houses down. On I stumbled — frenzied — weary — panting, Till lo, there came a wine to quench my thirsting; There came a distant voice — soft — enchanting — Artesian fountains on a desert bursting — "Follow me," it said. "From realms above I come. I am the pathfinder of Hope — / am Love." [51] <£Jho boasts of true sincerity Can have no alibi; Prepared to live, he cannot be Still unprepared to die. i MOTHERS Thy heart — a spring, thy love — a flowing river, Singing as it goes of no returning. Thou hast to give, and thou shalt know thy giving In the sunset where all Love is burning. L 52 REDEMPTION He sought it in the flowers when a child ; He sought through countless pages as he grew; He said he found it when a maiden smiled, But it was not there — Nor anywhere, He knew. And then he gave it up and went about Chasing Jack-o'-lanterns here and there. He lost himself in labyrinths without A thought of debt, A slight regret, Or prayer. But lo, there came a far off thunder sound! The sea grew red and bloody to the brim, Despair, destruction, death was all he found, But it had brought That which he sought To him. [53] TO WALT WHITMAN You break from the wake of a roaring dream, And pound on a far-flung shoal; Like the hail in a gale or a lightning beam, You strike at the worth of soul. You fly from the sky as a meteor stone, To plunge thru the sandy crust ; You pound and pound on blood and bone, Till you turn to a sledge and rust. But the clamoring, hammering, drum-tap sound That rolls from your pile-drive pen, Roars from the shores of the sea to resound In the hearts of a million men. I know your blow when the anvil rings, I see your heart-forged coals, While gold sparks fly from earth to sky And burn thru our metal souls. With bonds of steel you bind us all To a soil whose bend is one, And we all must kneel when the trumpets call, Even as you have done. [54] CARRY ON! Touch it not ! — 'tis the flower of beauty ! — In thy grasp shall it wither away, Like stars of the night In the realm of our sight Must vanish with light Of the day. Drink it not! — 'tis the nectar of gladness! At thy lips shall it change unto gall, Like love unto lust, Like steel unto rust, Like rain to the dust Shall it fall. Take it up! — 'tis the sabre of living! — Fight! ere its lustre is gone, For man to the core Of his conscience is war! — As thy fathers before, Carry on ! [55] A SOLDIER'S WILL TO ONE UNBORN Little pilgrim of a World's debut, Soul elect, heir to a brighter age, This generation sows a seed for you We water with our blood ! Your heritage We now prepare: a ponderous world estate! We draw the will, and seal it with our plight! For you, nor yours, we shall not arbitrate Till peace is born as day is born from night; As you shall spring from love, the world shall spring From all that love creates in life and power. This we leave, may God your only King, Protect the seed that you may pick the flower. [56] DRY DOCKED She has splashed the hearts of a happy crew In the salt of a spicy main, And tumbled them out to a great unknown And carried them home again. Hers — the freedom of all the seas ; Their joy was to feel her roll And plunge and leap from the foaming waves Like a song as it springs from the soul. But she was the Ship of Peace, and now Her crew are the men of war, Scattered all over the earth, and great Is the cause they are fighting for. For now she lies helpless: shackled and chained To the dock, till her sailor men Will have swept the world of its monsters. — God! When will she sail again? [57] THE LEGACY OF DEATH Ye, that put aside frivolity For this grim struggle with a frenzied foe; if e, led by the shades of chivalry, ■Vho more for love than life, would strike the blow I )f death ; march on! and, with thy radiant spirits, I ,ead the way and every soul inspire I Vith sinewed love to battle down the hate jAnd carry on through shrapnel storm and fire 'The torch our Master gave. Then from the graves (Of the fallen, lo! the peace that reigns the while [Above each tired heap that gave a life — Nay, more! A love — A dying smile. [58] Lo! the peace that reigns the while Above each tired heap that gave a life, — Nay, more ! A love — A dying smile. $ % Certain of these verses have already appeared in the Los Angeles Graphic, Occident, Air Currents, and other local publications, and also in one of Henry T. Schnittkind's Anthology of College Verse.