.^1 ^ " 'j'^"**! if f i 1 « B «.«.■.' r T) F ? * A \ \ f ''' : < f - S f I '^ \A/ A ^ .•a i i I f ■ 1 •,•-" .'j I i J i • 1 ».*.», :':':■:•;■:■:■:::•::■ ':'•:•:•;•:•:•■•' FLOYD D. RAZE !^!*"''"%' ■;•;■:•;;: '•:'i-:';:':'. ■ **;■ '»-*.■■ »•-•;••'. .••!••;'■ •;?;•;^ ••;■:•:■. Class Book AmiX- CopightN"_i3.a2. COPYRIGHT DEPOSm POEMS OF PEACE AND PIECES OF WAR FLOYD D. RAZE Tht LlbKAKY OF CONGRESS, Twc Copies Received JAN 5 1903 Copyright Entfy CLASS ft 'XXc. N» /A^ 5 4^* COPY B. I 11 Copyright, 1902 by FLOYD D. RAZE • • • ' • • * • NOTES. My only excuse in offering this volume to the public is my own sincerity in the belief that these poems are not .ejitirely devoid of merit; however, this matter must be left to- the judgment of others, and I can only hope that the reader may find within something pleasing, even though it be nothing more than the end. In closing I wish to thank my friends for the interest manifested in the little book issued some time ago, and trusting that this one will meet with the same consideration from them, I await the result. Sincerely, The Author. To my sincere friend and fellow-teacher, CLARENCE E. RUTHRUFF, this book is inscribed. CONTENTS. POEMS FROM YOUTH. Page. The Old Canoe ii I Forget 12 Time 14 Ben and 1 15 December 17 Mary Ann 18 Lura- Belle 19 POEMS OF SCHOOL. The Teacher 25 The Senior 27 To Alonzo Sage 29 What I Learned 31 When Adams Taught 33 Tower and Ruler 36 Their Privilege 40 POEMS OF WAR AND PATRIOTISM. Washington at Trenton 45 The Liberty Bell 47 At the Grave 49 Bon Homme Richard 51 Yorktown 53 Marion's Tower 55 [vl Page. My Native Land 57 Bennington 58 The Soldier's Story 62 The States 66 Centennial Chimes 68 Monmouth 69 Death of Frazer 70 In Camp 71 Moultrie 72 TRANSLATIONS. The Rich Prince 79 The Glove 80 Belshazzar 82 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. A Peaceable Dog 87 Satan 88 As It Seems 89 Reply to Pat's Love Letter 90 Poverty 9a Advice 93 An Epistle to I V 94 The Parson's Visit 96 A Wag's Last Joke 97 Hymn to Niagara 99 The Stork loi Quoits 102 In Church 104 Life 106 Spring 107 [VI] Page. Hunting Song io8 To a Crow no Destiny in If Ill Man's Inheritance 113 Determination 114 An Enigma 115 Look Up 116 The Landman 117 To a Daisy 118 Mother, Where Are You ? 119 Thanksgiving 120 Alice Brown 121 To a Sheet of Paper 123 St. Nicholas 124 Eagle Eye 126 In October 127 Fishing 128 Little Girls 129 Immortality 131 A Rainy Day 132 To Know His Way 133 Rejoice i35 Circumstances 136 Grandma I37 New Year I39 Cut Across 140 The Future 141 When I Am Old 142 [VII] Poems From Youth THE OLD CANOE. Like an upturned wreck on a lonely shore, Where the waves are sobbing evermore; Like a voice half heard in an olden dream, Or the mellow noise of a silver stream, Where the seabird wheels in his lonely flight, And never a sail greets the weary sight, 'Mongst the weeds that have pierced the old hulk through. Lies the crumbling wreck of the old canoe. Long years ago, when the summer breeze Scarce ruffled the breast of the tranquil seas, Sweet Ruth and I, 'neath the azure blue, Rode the sparkling waves in that old canoe. And her voice went out on the silvery tide To the gray, cold rocks, where the echoes hide; And my heart with the song went floating away. As we rocked on the tide through the beautiful day. Long years ago — but that voice is still, 'Neath the marble tomb on the somber hill, Where the willow bends to the shivering wind. And the ivy green o'er her grave has twined. 12 POEMS FROM YOUTH Alone I walk the strand to-day; Alone I watch the waves at play, As they chase each other through and through The broken wreck of the old canoe. There 's a beautiful realm beyond the skies, Where a smile of peace forever lies^. On the silver sea and the tranquil shore; There a maiden waits forevermore; And she softly trims her silken sail To catch the breath of the scented gale; And she tunes her harp with an anthem sweet, As she 'waits the approach of my weary feet. The above poein was written bv my father, Edwin E. Raze. F. D. R. I FORGET. When I turn to my youth for the pleasure it gave, Not a thing from the lap of old fortune I crave; Not a care have I then for the days yet to come, And my daily companion, Old Fretful, sits dumb. And I hear twenty wags, if I hear even one, All inviting me back to partake of the fun. With this all before me I throw down my cane And leave the rough highway for young lover's lane; POEMS FROM YOUTH 13 I forget crippled joints and lumbago of back, I forget sixty years drag along on my track, And I join in the gay crowd, the gayest by half, Swing around on one heel and bend double to laugh. I forget that my head shines as bright as new tin; That my remnant of cheek has grown faded and thin; That my hand is unsteady, and firmly I grasp The hand of some fellow our friendship to clasp. I forget politics and the weather and all, For the shindig is on in the old village hall. It makes me forget I'm alone on the sea With a half-broken plank twixt the bottom and me. For youth is the main-mast and love is the sail, While courtship and "smack" bear me on through the gale. And I'm gay as the rest in the mirth of the dance. While the night glides away like an hour of a trance. And the lass at my side is the belle of the ball. Who keeps even step in her whirl 'round the hall, While with rattle of heel and with tripple-touch toe We allemande left to the swing of the bow; Till onward and on like the flow of a stream We finish the breakdown with somebody's dream. 14 POEMS FROM YOUTH Then I wake and review all the struggles and strife In my long promenade to the breakdown of life, And I laugh at the thought of my being placed back Full two score of years on life's zigzaggy track; For what with bald head and lumbago and all, Would it pay to plod back for the belle of the ball? TIME. Old Time, golden Time, what brilliant array Of hopes that arose wilh the dawn of thy day Has vanished from sight like the foam on the sea — Slipped away from the world in the twilight with thee! What music is hushed! I listen in vain For the sweet rippled cadence of laughter again; Thy clanking, O Time, on thy dull dreary round Has sunk the best notes to a low muffled sound. What eyes have grown dim and what hearts have grown still, Asleep 'neath the sod on the slope of the hill — Since thou, golden Time, hast departed! What tears Have blotted life's page in the many long years. Since thou'st left the heart, the warm heart, to grow cold In the breast of the passionate dreamer of old, POEMS FROM YOUTH 15 And Mem'ry to linger and mourn with regret For pleasure she never can wholly forget! Old Time, golden Time, my joy is to-day In dreaming of scenes that have long passed away, In thinking of days so endearing to me When I lived in the bloom of life's summer with thee. BEN AND I. Ben and I were boys together On the hill in winter weather. Like the hours we slid away, (Boys and hours alike so gay) ! Boys and time together sped Down the hillside sled to sled; Ben and I came tugging back. Time held on its endless track. Ben and I were boys together. Barefoot in the summer weather; Happy as the birds that flew From the meadow's sparkling dew. In the loft we tramped the hay. Helpers through the blazing day. And at night a blanket spread Just to sleep "up overheard." There we chatted, Ben and I, At the first a little shy, 16 POEMS FROM YOUTH Then of greater things we'd do; Battle scenes and love scenes, too. Silly secrets slyly told, Just like folks tell when they're old. I was growing bold, but then Not a bit more so than Ben. Just a few years bring a lad To a youth so shocking bad! So it is: and Ben and I Grew less bold but wondrous sly; Watermelons 'gan to grow, Got ripe in the loft you know; Peaches softened on the beams While we took our morning dreams. Strange to say with all the sin That Ben used to lead me in, I recall him with a joy Which I knew when just a boy. Yesterday I passed the barn, Thought of each sly trick and yarn. Swung the gate and walking through Barn and hill were all I knew Of the old familiar place Which my presence used to grace In the good old seasons when Ben knew me and I knew Ben. Had I stopped and told my name Not one there had known the same; Ah me, alas! I walked away, Brief of word and brief of stay: POEMS FROM YOUTH 17 Left the strangers standing still As I climbed the sloping hill, Only pausing to look back Down the well-remembered track Where I rode in winter, when Ben knew me and I knew Ben. DECEMBER. Just a little while ago, Not so long but I remember, 'Twas a joy for me to know 'Twas the month of cold December. When the stars shone pale by night O'er a universe of white — Winds a blowing — 'Twas a happy time of year Spite of skies so dull and drear, Spite of northern frost and chill It had charms which linger still, Ever wooing. Sleigh-loads out at night, and bells Jingling as we'd onward go. O'er the valleys and the fells In the frosty snow; Twenty muffled girls and boys All for fun and making noise, Little knowing That the world would grow less gay At no very distant day, 18 POEMS FROM YOUTH That their smiles would change to tears In the circle of the years Still agoing. Tho' it may seem long ago, Who's so old he can't remember When he laughed to see the snow Sifting down through cod December? Who was then so wise to know That the years would glide on so. Ever throwing Shadows where the sunshine lay, More* o& grief from day to day, Till the. greatest joy is found Chasing time's vast circles round While 'tis snowing? MARY ANN. Who is proud of having gold, Let him on riches gloat, Who is proud if young or old Of his fitting coat, On this truth let him rely, Vain are they to soothe the spirit, Tho' they please the selfish eye Naught of Heaven do they merit. Blest above them all is he Who has won the heart of woman. Blest am I in loving thee, Maiden so divinely human, POEMS FROM YOUTH 19 Mary Ann so young and slender, Mary Ann so sweet and tender, Just the girl to charm the eye — Just the girl to love. Who would like to live alone Let him have his hall — Nothing less than sapphire stone Set in marble wall. Who would live for wisdom's wreath Add unto his years And keep him till his latest breath From bitterness of tears. But give to me not such as this — Build a hut for me, That I may live a life of bliss Sweet Mary Ann with thee. Mary Ann so young and slender, Mary Ann so sweet and tender, Just the girl to charm the eye — Just the girl to love. LURA-BELLE. Do you remember the days gone by When we, young lovers, strayed By the river gurgling along so nigh Our path in the maples' shade. As we walked so gaily along the dell Do you remember, Lura-Belle? ao POEMS FROM YOUTH Do you remember the flowers that grew Down in the maples' shade — The daisy and arbutus too, And bluebells with their modest hue — Do you remember them as well As I remember, Lura-Belle? Do you remember what you said One evening long ago When stars were twinkling overhead And the moon hung round and low? You said that yo — er — shall I tell — Don't you remember, Lura-Belle? Do you remember — yes, you do — As we still strolled along, How you kissed me and I kissed you? It surely wasn't wrong. Do you remember how I fell In love by courting Lura-Belle? Do you remember when we were wed Our honeymoon plans were laid, And time moved on with ruthless tread Till a babe stopped our walks in the shade Do you remember how I fell To walking at midnight, Lura-Belle? Do you remember as I do My soft tread on the floor. As later on I walked with two. Then walked with three, then four? POEMS FROM YOUTH 21 Do you remember that as well As I remember, Lura-Belle? Do 5'ou remember with regret The days of care and strife Since you resigned the epithet Of "Sweet-heart" to be "Wife"? And do you sigh in turning to The dell in which I courted youT Poems of School THE TEACHER. He used to be a sturdy pill Like Thor of Jotunheim. No other one could till the hill In bringing boys to time; He used to wear a double fist, A heavy black goatee, And only good behavior missed A dire calamity. Like Julius Caesar he was strong, Like Washington, was great; Like Garfield, drove the mule along To drag the ship of state; And thus he toiled from day to day The whole long seasons round. And dredged the channel without pay Whene'er he ran aground. A bachelor — he gave his life To education's cause: I mean a man without a wife, Not Bachelor of Laws. He never heard that ancient noise Which makes so many glad, That extract of the joy of joys In father, pa, or dad. And yet I s'pose a thousand Young Americans have lain 26 POEMS OF SCHOOL Face downward 'cross his sturdy knee, And kicked and yelled in vain, While he so calm and graceful Played the tutor's noble part In fitting them for better deeds; O, but he made them smart! They tell me one's a senator, And one's an LL. D.; Another runs a war-ship For the government at sea; And one's a sharp detective Who discloses fearful crimes; And one's a rising poet Tickling up the world with rhymes. And every mother's son of these And many more beside Are pointing to that master With an air of honest pride; And each one bows with reverence. And proudly claims that he Received his first impetus On that sturdy master's knee. And tho' he's gone his influence Has far outlived his name; For none know what became of him, None know from whence he came; But that he lived and labored here A thousand hearts attest. They feared him only at the worst And loved him at the best. POEMS OF SCHOOL 27 THE SENIOR. O have you seen the senior in her graduating dress? She's the symbol or perfection and perfection, too, I guess. She's not the common girl you knew a few short years ago — The girl who used to come to school in checkered calico — She's not the girl who used to sit so near your knife-carved seat Whose winning smile so often caused your heart an extra beat. She's not the girl you sometimes kissed in a too loving game, They bear a strong resemblance, but they're not the very same. 'And is this senior less a sprite than she I knew before?" O no! Why, bless your heart, she's all she used to be and more. She used to be just common "Gen," but now she's "Genevieve;" To-day she offers pardon where she used to grant reprieve; To-day she sings soprano where she used to squeal and squeak; She speaks in classic English, tho' she often thinks in Greek. She's learned the scholar's easy way and grown so much refined, 28 POEMS OF SCHOOL I'll scarcely try to say how far she's left the past behind; What narrow pools of knowledge have grown mean- time to be As many sweeping Amazons just verging on the sea. She reads the German fluently, die Sprache alt und schon. Tho' Caesar puzzles commoners, for her he wrote in vain. Her mind's imago parva of the classic wisdom when The Seniors in the school of life were high and mighty men. She knows the master-pieces as a sailor knows the stars ; She'll quote from Homer's Odyssey — its love scenes and its wars. She'll tell you tales of Paris' ways, of Helen's days of joy , And just how long old Hector fought before he fell at Troy. She knows the "Rise and Fall of Rome," although it can't be said She has an equal knowledge of the rise and fall of bread. She's drunk from scientific cups, and yet I must confess I don't believe this senior made her graduating dress. POEMS OF SCHOOL 29 TO ALONZO SAGE. You are Sage and I am Raze; We were friends in bygone days; We are friends and friendly still Like the fir-trees on the hill. We were boys one time in school, You the Sage and I the fool; Now we live in manhood's age, You be fool while I be sage. Forgive, old chum, for friendship's sake — For often does my sad heart ache For old time scenes that passed too soon; When harp and banjo, each in tune. Breathed out the strain, now loud, now low, While roared the fire and beat the snow Against the icy window-pane. Our books — Ah, what cared we for books - Still in the sacks hung on the hooks — Till from the tea-pot's narrow snout The smell of supper oozed out, A warning that we stop the fun That seemingly had just begun. How many nights while sitting there We'd hear a football on the stair; And welcome visitors were they Who came to work, or rather play, To laugh, to joke, to sing "Marie." 30 POEMS OF SCHOOL Or "Rob and Allan Cam' to Free," Till nothing but the street-light shone, When we at last were left alone. To do the work of half a daj'- In thirty minutes anyway. 'Twas winter then. You know the bells That soothed the young Mt. Pleasant swells Went jangling past our neat abode On horses scrambling down the road As if to walk had been a sin. A clerk, no doubt, you'd find within The cutter, with some laughing girls Whose rosy cheeks and lovely curls Glared on the window as they passed. No wonder that a glance we cast; No wonder that we wondered why Such fellow should have caught such eye. We knew those girls, old schoolmates they, Who met us at the school each day. We knew what innocence of look They feigned, when Bellows seized the book And quizzed in vain each lessoned page. His keen eyes half aglow with rage. We knew the why and longed to work The mischief back upon the clerk. But time has passed. Those boys and girls Pill up the ranks that move the world's Great spirit. They are in the race To win or lose; and each must trace POEMS OF SCHOOL 31 His wonted course through life's short coil Of smiles and tears. Ah. time brings toil To every one. What weary care He brings the heart! Ere we're aware A day has fled, a year has passed, And life indeed comes on too fast. But let old Time bring on his worst — Time that by all the world is cursed. We will not curse him, let him be What'er he will to you and me. 'Twas he that brought us face to face; 'Tis he still aids us in the chase; 'Tis he that makes us what we are; 'Tis he 'twill lead us on afar, To what a goal? To what an age? No matter: I'll remember Sage, And know, however long your days May be, — you'll still remember Raze. WHAT I LEARNED. I went to school when I was young. When all the world was gay. And learned to read with fluent tongue The annals of the day. I learned the boy's mischievous part Before I learned to read; I learned the teacher's face by heart, She learned my first misdeed. 32 POEMS OF SCHOOL I learned to think each girl a queen And longed to be a king; Then started, as I thought, unseen To help along the thing. I looked at Jane across the aisle And Jane looked up at me; My heart sprang up to greet her smile Undaunted as could be. Perhaps Jane thought each boy a king And longed to be a queen — I can't believe another thing Could bring the self-same sc«ne. I whispered "Jane" — well, I won't say The rest — there was no rest. Just then the teacher turned that way And caught me I'll be blest. I don't know if she heard my "Jane" Or saw my hanging head, But even now I hear again The very words she said. 'John, you may go and sit with Jane." I didn't want to go. But blushing cheeks plead all in vain. I moved, but oh, so slow. I guess Jane thought I'd never come; She fumbled round her book, POEMS OF SCHOOL 33 And though her lips were sealed and dumb She had a loving look. How loud they laughed that summer day To make a small boy sad. 'Cause Jane had stole his heart away, They jeered the shame-faced lad. But when the merriment was o'er, And teacher dropped her eye, Tane whispered, "They won't laugh no more." Then hugged me on the sly. That was the climax. I had stood The laugh of every one, Nor would I change it tho' I could. I envied them no fun. E'en now I think big girls are queens, And Jane a queen of elves — That even school-ma'arys, just for greens, Would squeeze the boys themselves. WHEN ADAMS TAUGHT THE SCHOOL. How well do I remember little happenstances when Our district schoolhouse used to hold a half a dozen men; How little teachers who, of course, with less of brawn than brain 3 34 POEMS OF SCHOOL Were pitched out just for pastime and left standing in the rain. I recollect Tom Johnston and the fellows of his clique All standing 'round the schoolhouse and all telling who they'd lick. They reckoned that "the teacher'd pony 'round about jest so; Wouldn't give them much o' sass or out o' there he'd go." "Find a plan to lick the teacher" used to be the golden rule, But It changed a very little after Adams took the school. Adams didn't talk a whole lot, guess he didn't like to preach; Seemed at first he came to visit — then made up his mind to teach; Acted as he hadn't noticed Johnston and his burly crew, Nor the broken window-sashes that the teachers all went through. So the boys began a winking, smiling blandly on each other, And a nodding toward the teacher and a whisp'ring, "He's another." Just a day or two of teaching — then an outburst — was the rule. But they changed this custom slightly after Adams took the school. POEMS OF SCHOOL 35 So the boys began to study for some ghost of an excuse — They didn't want to make it seem too much like pure abuse; At last it was decided. They wouldn't be too hard, But give him just a round or two in mopping up the yard; And then the plan was cut and dried — Tom jumped up all at once, "Look here, ole foller, 't seems ter me I hain't no first-grade dunce; These kind o' zamples that you give is hardly goin' ter stick. We're goin' ter have a teacher here what knows aritheiitick.'' Arithmetic was something quite important as a rule, And it reached the very climax after Adams took the school. Multiples and great divisors! Not a mathematician he! Tom's contortions illustrated plane geometry, Engineering and surveying; 'twas a great example that, And teacher showed them all at once he'd got it right down pat. He showed them how whole numbers were inverted, lo, and then. How zigzag divers figures brought them right-side up again; ao POEMS OF SCHOOL Hliow