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XHE imRAIlY OF (/^'^^^ 
 
innes^ota 
 
 and other 
 
 "Verses! 
 
 By AMBROSE LEO McGREEVY 
 
 (Author of "The God of Battles" 
 and other Verses) 
 
 WINONA, MINNESOTA 
 
 JONES & KROEGER CO., Publishers 
 1916 
 
Copyright 1916 by 
 A. L. McGreevy 
 
 .6^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^\- 
 
 
 NDV27 131S @„^448i38 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 Minnesota 5 
 
 Boyhood Days in Lakeland 6 
 
 Land of the Lakes 7 
 
 Just a Thought 9 
 
 Hidden Pearls 10 
 
 The Chip 11 
 
 Wabasha 12 
 
 The Farther Shore 13 
 
 The Mountain and I 14 
 
 Homeland 15 
 
 The Free Lance 16 
 
 A Song of the Seven Seas 18 
 
 Conscience 19 
 
 The Man and the Ghost 20 
 
 An Intruding Thought 23 
 
 A Tale of the Desert 24 
 
 Happy Boy 26 
 
 The Boy with the Baldheaded Eyebrows 27 
 
 Reverie 29 
 
 The Dreamer 30 
 
 L' Envoi 31 
 
WON'T YOU COME ALONG? 
 
 I'm going to sit in the dreamer's chair 
 Just for awhile to weave in my thought 
 
 Fabric of gold from nature so fair, 
 
 Won't you come along and see what I've wrought? 
 
 I'm going to paint with words of my choice 
 From models of things my fancy has spun 
 
 Pictures I somehow trust may rejoice, 
 
 Won't you come along and see what I've done? 
 
 I'm going to while an hour away 
 
 Roaming wherever the spirit may dare; 
 
 I'm going to give what soul shall essay, 
 
 Won't you come along and banish your care? 
 
MINNESOTA J 
 
 It's the land of Minnesota where ten thousand lakes lie gleaming, j 
 
 And rivers wind like ribbons toward the sea: j 
 
 Where the wild deer browse in clover, and the turtle doves are < 
 
 dreaming, j 
 
 It's bonny land, the only land for me. ; 
 
 Oh land of cheery sky and sunshine, magic land of spell and i 
 
 charm ! I 
 
 The world has never really known your worth; I 
 So I'll tell them of your glory now, and spread the sweet alarm 
 
 That all may come and feel your mystic mirth. ! 
 
 1 
 
 So far away from fevered Broadway, far away from BostonTown, j 
 
 You'll see this land I'm telling you about; ! 
 
 And when you really find it, tho it's still without renown, j 
 
 You'll be a boy and want to romp and shout. ] 
 
 It will grip you with its fingers; it will hold you in its spell; ; 
 
 'Twill thrill your fevered heartstrings thru and thru, | 
 
 Till you'll sing with its enchantments, and its charms you'll want i 
 to tell 
 
 To the world, that they may come and do as you. , 
 
 Are you seeking recreation, then, and don't know where to go? j 
 
 Just wander to this land I love so well! | 
 
 For tho you search this country east and west and high and low, 
 
 You'll never find its like where humans dwell. ' 
 
 Oh leave your cities' din and roar, leave your crowded thorofare, 
 
 And come with me to Paradise on Earth: 
 Reconstruct your nerve and sinew, build new bone and marrow i 
 
 there. 
 
 And feel the thrill of life in this new birth. ; 
 
 Where the wild roses riot in their bloom i 
 
 And cloudless skies dispel all thought of gloom, | 
 
 Where the wild fowl nest in summer j 
 
 And a thousand rivers murmur, > 
 Come and cast your lot until the day of doom. 
 
 — 5 — 
 
BOYHOOD DAYS IN LAKELAND 
 
 Way beyond the Mississippi in old Minnesota State 
 
 There's a little lake that's calling me tonight, 
 And I feel my soul a-pining, and my mind is wide awake 
 
 As it wanders back again in fancy's flight. 
 There tonight again I'm roaming, in that golden land yonder 
 
 Toward the setting sun with memories sweet and true, 
 And in happy reminiscence o'er olden days I ponder 
 
 As I do again the things I used to do. 
 
 Oh those boyhood days of glory, how shall I tell the story, 
 
 Of an age when rapture thrilled in every thew; 
 When it seemed so far away, life's evening old and hoary; 
 
 And my cares were far between and very few. 
 What tales my rhymes would render of an age so pure and tender, 
 
 Could words but tell the feelings of my soul; 
 When I wandered thru the wildwoods of teeming lands of splen- 
 dor, 
 
 And saw the lake waves down the sand-beach roll. 
 
 There were argent waves a-glimmer, the sun's rays all a-shimmer 
 
 As the wild trout leaped in haste to catch the fly; 
 And the freedom and the freshness of nature all a-simmer 
 
 Beneath the spell of Minnesota's sky. 
 Oh the glory of the gloaming and rapture of the roaming 
 
 When the sun-god paints his canvas in the west, 
 And living things of nature, in their eagerness come homing 
 
 To their native land, the land they love the best. 
 
 Better far than gilded palace of uncultured kings of mammon. 
 
 Who flaunt their flags of wealth unto the world. 
 Are the green fields of my Lakeland, where unknown are guile 
 or gammon 
 
 And the ensigns of all nature are unfurled. 
 Thrice-blest land of God Almighty, like the promised land of old 
 
 You are filled with plenty for your children dear, 
 Tho your beauty and your splendor have never yet been told, 
 
 Of all lands of earth, to heaven you're most near. 
 
 — 6 
 
LAND OF THE LAKES 
 
 There where the Father 
 
 Of Waters flows 
 To fecundate land as 
 
 As onward he goes: 
 
 There where a thousand 
 
 Lakes lie a-dream, 
 Which up from prairies 
 
 Like diamonds gleam: 
 
 There where the wild rose 
 
 Riots in bloom, 
 And beauty springs 
 
 From nature's womb: 
 
 There where the birds 
 
 Of every name 
 Trill thru the land, 
 
 Songsters of fame: 
 
 There where the cow-bells 
 
 Jangle afar 
 O'er fields of clover. 
 
 Sweetest that are: 
 
 Nearer I've been 
 
 To heaven's own land, 
 Than wherever else 
 
 I've taken my stand. 
 
 Land of Paradise, 
 
 Land of the Lakes! 
 Mem'ries of thee arise! 
 
 — My soul awakes! 
 
 Summers of glory. 
 
 Winters of fame. 
 Tell their own story, 
 
 Speak their own name. 
 
 Would I were roaming 
 
 Far on the mead. 
 There in the gloaming. 
 
 Naught else to heed. 
 
 Where all life's odds 
 Would be with thy child. 
 Oh land of the gods! — 
 Nature's own v/ild! 
 
Where no one plods, 
 To mammon bound — 
 
 Oh land of the gods, 
 Circle me round! 
 
 Where he who trods 
 Thy pathway sweet, — 
 
 Oh land of the gods, 
 Thee do I greet 
 
 Still do I love thee 
 
 Tho far away; 
 Still dost thou soothe me, 
 
 Night and by day. 
 
 Some day I'll wander 
 Back to thy arms, 
 
 There will I ponder, 
 Spelled in thy charms. 
 
 Oh life Mali be sweet 
 
 Unto me then, 
 As thee I greet 
 
 In glory again. 
 
JUST A THOUGHT 
 
 I wandered where the autumn leaves are falling, 
 In vain methought to soothe an aching heart; 
 
 I hearkened to the voice of winter calling, 
 "I'm coming, coming, summer shall depart." 
 
 I felt the frigid panting of his coming, 
 
 I shivered at the thought of certain death, 
 
 I heard the wild weird cadence of his thrumming, 
 I trembled at his minatory breath. 
 
 I saw the things of nature slowly dying, 
 I knew that I must also pass away, 
 
 I felt my grievous soul within me crying 
 Out against the certain coming of the day. 
 
 I saw the winter threaten with his killing, 
 
 Yet thru the gloom a thought enchanted me 
 
 That cheered me on, and now is sweetly stilling 
 All notions sad concerning what must be. 
 
 Ah there beyond the drear and frigid silence 
 I saw the coming of the dulcet spring. 
 
 To which my lonely soul fled in reliance. 
 
 Scarce heeding what the future had to bring. 
 
 — 9 — 
 
HIDDEN PEARLS 
 
 "Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
 The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear." 
 
 Westward ho in the land of the lakes 
 Beside a stream as it sweeps along, 
 
 Nestling there amid scattering brakes 
 Lies the village where I belong. 
 
 Circled by hills which baffle the view 
 
 And hinder sight of worlds that are strange, 
 
 Dwell its people in numbers few, 
 
 So blithesome within their narrow range. 
 
 Theirs no care of the busier world 
 
 Where deeds are done by giants of worth; 
 
 Theirs to live where their spirits were hurled. 
 Theirs to live in the land of their birth. 
 
 Many there are within the old town 
 
 Had they but let ambition take hold. 
 Attained at last a place of renown, — 
 
 Their deeds to future men would be told. 
 
 Perhaps as the ages sweep along 
 
 It matters not, just v/hat they have done 
 In the eyes of the world's countless throng. 
 
 If their sins at last be summed as none. 
 
 I'm sure at that far off end of time 
 When ebb and flow of humanity cease. 
 
 Their names shall sound in heavenly rhyme 
 With those of Saints in the land of Peace. 
 
 — 10 
 
THE CHIP 
 
 Upon a bank, inland a thousand miles 
 I toss a chip into the swirling river, 
 
 And watch attentively its freakish wiles 
 
 As down the rushing stream it moves a-quiver. 
 
 Away beyond my sight it fades afar, 
 Gone forever from my inquiring gaze. 
 
 It enters mighty ocean's gates ajar. 
 
 To be absorbed within its mystic maze. 
 
 So I upon the stream of history 
 
 Move here, now there, but ever on and on 
 Bound for unknown eternal mystery 
 
 Where countless millions of the past have gone. 
 
 What to find beyond those gates I know not, 
 But feeling hints within me I believe. 
 
 And so I know that joy shall be my lot, 
 For they must not, can not, do not deceive. 
 
 — 11 — 
 
WABASIL\ 
 
 So peaceful "mid its hills of green, 
 Of all the towns I've ever seen 
 Is Wabasha of grace serene 
 And beautiful with happy mien. 
 
 When first this garden spot I saw 
 Where fiows the river Chippewa 
 To meet the hills of Wabasha 
 It speUed my heart with holy awe. 
 
 Afar from City's madd'ing rush 
 And busy crowd in careless crush. 
 I found this place imbued with hush 
 Upon its floor of nature's plush. 
 
 The people in this sweet retreat. 
 The like of them you seldom meet, 
 As when in Wabasha you greet 
 And catch their smile upon the street. 
 
 There's just that happy feeling there 
 Of peace, contentment everywhere 
 That's scarcely ever found elsewhere. ; 
 It's omnipresent in the air. 
 
 12 — 
 
THE FARTHER SHORE 
 
 Our souls are like the water flowing down 
 
 From dizzy heights of mountain side. j 
 
 Where snow and ice and cold abide, \ 
 
 To chafe along thru fields and oft by town. j 
 
 Down from the white and lofty rocky wall j 
 
 Now streaming comes the flood apace 
 
 Contesting in a mighty race, 
 It strives to forge ahead and leave them all. ^ 
 
 So are we borne from out the heights above { 
 
 To shift and play our little part, 
 
 And moving with both hand and heart I 
 
 We act regardless of eternal love. j 
 
 We come from out the unknown with a rush, 
 
 Plashing, gurgling o'er beds of rock. 
 
 Rubbing elbows with worlds that mock, 
 To meet our destined end in fearful hush. 
 
 Then shall we sport upon that farther shore, 
 
 And sparkling, leap, and flash and shine 
 
 Beneath the eternal sun benign, 
 And hear the waters rolling evermore. j 
 
 — 13 — 
 
. THE MOUNTAIN AND I 
 
 How often have I stood in awe 
 Before the monuments I saw, 
 Those giant heaps of earth and rock 
 Which thru the ages seem to mock 
 The brevity of man's career, 
 And haunting spectre death, so near. 
 And all things else that pass with time — 
 To me they ever were sublime. 
 
 Those monster mounds of clay and stone 
 
 That thru the centuries stood alone, 
 
 And solemn, silent, ever shove 
 
 Their glistening snow-caps high above 
 
 The day's routine, and sphere of man — 
 
 Whose life at best is but a span 
 
 Of years that come and go in haste,! 
 
 Ah you remain untouched and chaste 
 
 As when from 'neath creative hand 
 
 You took your everlasting stand — 
 
 Ye symbols of eternal life 
 
 So far removed from earthly strife,! 
 
 To me you tell a v/ondrous tale 
 
 Before which words can only pale.! 
 
 And yet in spite of all I see 
 
 The one strange thought that hangs on me, 
 
 Is that you too must fade away 
 
 To nothing, on that final day 
 
 When men and matter evermore 
 
 Shall mix in elemental roar, 
 
 And in that grand finale blend 
 
 That tells the world's expected end. 
 
 And when you perish with the earth, 
 
 Alone shall I in newer birth 
 
 Still linger on in spirit land 
 
 In company with that holy band 
 
 Of human souls so happy there 
 
 Where haunteth neither work nor care. 
 
 So am I greater than thou art, 
 Tho smaller now doth seem my part, 
 For when thou art forever gone 
 My soul shall linger on and on. 
 
 14 
 
HOMELAND 
 
 Oh this city life so maddening 
 With its thousand cares so saddening 
 I forget thee and I'm gladdening 
 At the thought of home again. 
 
 Many evenings have I wandered 
 Many leisure hours I've squandered, 
 As with nature's God I've pondered 
 O'er the mystic truths of life. 
 
 With my Maker I've been roaming 
 In the glory of the gloaming, 
 I have felt my spirit homing 
 Toward the land of God above. 
 
 Of this land with glory gleaming 
 Tonight once more I'm dreaming 
 And my soul would still be seeming 
 That it's there in fancy still. 
 
 Oh thy beauty still is haunting 
 And thy grandeur tho still wanting 
 I have never ceased from vau'nting 
 With the power of my speech. 
 
 Thou didst never yet deceive me 
 Since the day that I did leave thee 
 And I hope thou wilt receive me 
 When I'll return again. 
 
 Oh I have grown so weary 
 Of a life so dark and dreary, 
 Yet the memory makes me cheery 
 As I see thee once again. 
 
 And no matter what it cost me 
 Tho afar grim fate has tossed me 
 Oh be sure thou hast not lost me, 
 For I'll come home again. 
 
 And I'll live with thee forever 
 And thy bonds I will not sever 
 And we'll part again, no, never! 
 For thou art home to me. 
 
 — 15 — 
 
THE FREE LANCE 
 
 Up and down this hemisphere 
 
 Seeking things we never find, 
 Cut from those men hold most dear, 
 
 Wanderlust had filled my mind. 
 Restless, rampant, roaming ever 
 
 Over trails unknown of old, 
 I have sought what men find never, 
 
 And if found, could never hold. 
 
 In the deep desire of travel 
 
 I've felt the fabric of my soul. 
 Like the threads of cloth unravel 
 
 In destruction of the whole. 
 Bring to me the wilds a-calling, 
 
 Ever on to scenes unknown, 
 While an aftermath appalling 
 
 Left I, where my works were sown. 
 
 Precious hours have I squandered 
 
 Of my youth's most priceless morn, 
 While in fields afar I've wandered 
 
 From the land where I was born. 
 Yet my life has been a pleasure 
 
 And regrets I shall not bring 
 But the fullness of my measure 
 
 Of life's joys to thee I sing. 
 
 Thru the heated torrid zone 
 
 'Long the equatorial path. 
 Seeking fortune all alone 
 
 I have left an aftermath. 
 To the southland where the ice 
 
 Floats like mountains in the sea 
 I have wandered more than twice 
 
 Finding things unknown to thee. 
 
 Vagrant birds that ever move, 
 
 Birds of passage thru the air, 
 Following no settled groove 
 
 Here today, tomorrow there: 
 So I've rambled, rambled on. 
 
 Homeless too, but always free 
 To the lands where few have gone 
 
 Far away beyond the sea. 
 
 Northward, northward I have fled 
 
 As a breath into the night 
 Or a spirit of the dead 
 
 Moving on in endless flight. ' 
 From the land of Lake Itasca 
 
 Cradle of a mighty stream. 
 To the mountains of Alaska 
 
 I have chased my endless dream. 
 
 — 16 — 
 
With my back against the pole 
 
 In the northern Frigid Zone, 
 While I played a minor role, 
 
 I have lived and worked alone. 
 Where the northern lights are shining 
 
 Thru the darkness clear and bright 
 I have felt my soul a-pining 
 
 In the hours of the night. 
 
 Ever songs of leave and license 
 
 I have sung where e'er I went; 
 Burning, burning all the incense 
 
 Of my soul's remaining stent, 
 At the altar of the fat god 
 
 Builded by the hands of man, 
 In that land that few have trod. 
 
 Beyond the pale of civil ban. 
 
 Wild and free has been my roaming, 
 
 Law or mandate I knew none. 
 Whether in the summer's gloaming 
 
 Or the winter's midnight sun. ,f. 
 Skimming like the birds of passage 
 
 Or the fishes of the sea. 
 For my soul, it knew no bondage. 
 
 Hazard always mastered me. 
 
 Then assign me a failure 
 
 In the book of those ye knew. 
 While I follow on my pale lure 
 
 Towards the goal it leads me to. 
 Tho my life may seem still dreary 
 
 As I wander on alone. 
 Leave me to my fancies eery 
 
 For I'm just a rolling stone. 
 
 17 
 
A SONG OF THE SEVEN SEAS 
 
 In every clime, 'neath every sky 
 
 On ocean's billows rocking, 
 From where the chilling ice-bergs lie 
 
 To tropic storms bemocking, 
 
 I've sailed the sea enchanting me 
 
 With all its charms alluring, 
 And many joys that mine shall be 
 
 While mem'ries are enduring. 
 
 Oh for a breath of salt sea air! 
 
 And the good ship onward skimming, 
 And sparkling waves in the noonday glare 
 
 Or tinged in the twilight dimming. 
 
 Oh for the ocean's freedom wide! 
 
 And its freshness sweet, and farness 
 And the rhythmdc pulse of the ancient tide 
 
 That knows nor leash nor harness. 
 
 Born in the spell of the salt sea side, 
 A child of the ocean's breeding, 
 
 Far away on the wild ebb tide 
 
 I've been with the breezes speeding. 
 
 But now a relic grown gray 
 
 Abjured of the salt sea breeze,: 
 
 Only an outcast by the way. 
 Derelict of the seven seas. 
 
 — IS — 
 
CONSCIENCE j 
 
 Out of the past | 
 
 So strange it seems 
 Of all things else, 
 
 Weft of my dreams: : 
 
 Comes a soft voice \ 
 
 To gnaw at my soul, j 
 
 Scattering my calm, : 
 
 Exacting a toll: i 
 
 Asking me why i 
 
 I acted so, ] 
 
 When in temptation ! 
 
 I fell so low. 1 
 
 I 
 
 To answer back j 
 
 I scarce knew how, 1 
 
 But in contrition , j 
 
 Low I did bow. I 
 
 Naked I stood 
 
 Before my God 
 Deeply regretting 
 
 The way I had trod. 
 
 Bared was my soul 
 
 To mine own gaze; . 
 
 I saw the right j 
 
 And wrong of my ways. I 
 
 Firmly I vow^ed j 
 
 That nevermore • 
 
 I would depart , 
 
 From my Father's door. J 
 
 Happy was I i 
 
 That from the past, j 
 
 Voice of conscience 
 
 Called me at last, '\ 
 
 Back from the path j 
 
 That I had trod, ' 
 
 Carelessly living I 
 
 Away from my God. ' 
 
 To change of life 1 
 
 And better things 
 That only he 
 
 With graces brings. < 
 
 19 
 
THE MAN AND THE GHOST 
 
 'Twas on a summer's night 
 
 Not very long ago 
 When 'mid the bristling crowd 
 
 I met a man in woe, 
 Who plucked me by the sleeve 
 
 And led me far beyond 
 The dizzy crowd and roar 
 
 And there in deep despond, 
 
 This tale he told to me, 
 
 Which you may take or leave. 
 But as concerns myself 
 
 I cannot but believe. 
 In earnest did he speak, 
 
 Convincing was each word. 
 And now the tale I tell 
 
 To you as it was heard: 
 
 "Oh stranger hear me out, 
 
 Do thou believe my tale, 
 For true I swear it is 
 
 And that I do bewail! 
 That awful, awful night 
 
 No more shall I forget, 
 For vivid I perceive 
 
 The fearful phantom yet. 
 
 "I thought that I was blind 
 
 So inky black the night. 
 When there beside my bed 
 
 I saw what gave me fright. 
 And gazing steadily 
 
 In ghostly form it stood 
 So quiet-like, I thought 
 
 It had been made of wood. 
 
 "Then starting from my bed 
 
 In fear, aloud I cried, 
 'Who are you? Tell me please!' 
 
 While quickly it replied, 
 'Me you have seen before. 
 
 Do not pxetend! 'Tis so! 
 For friends I know we've been 
 
 In youth so long ago.' 
 
 "Then upright quick I sat 
 In horror, fear and dread, 
 So icy-cold my flesh, 
 
 I thought I had been dead. 
 Again I asked this ghost 
 
 Who, what, and why, he was 
 With bated breath, and voice 
 As one in terror does. 
 — 20 — 
 
"Then back the answer came 
 
 So quick it almost seemed 
 The whole thing had occurred 
 
 To me while I had dreamed. 
 But M'hen the words began 
 
 To flow, I soon awoke, 
 For then I really knew 
 
 It was a ghost that spoke. 
 
 " 'List to me then tonight 
 
 And hear me out, poor fool, 
 And you shall hear from me 
 
 Things never learned at school. 
 From out oblivion's shore 
 
 I came but to return. 
 From darkness forth I sprang 
 
 And darkness is my bourne. 
 
 'Tis you who've kept me tight 
 
 In thraldom worse than hell. 
 And that is why this tale 
 
 To you I wish to tell. 
 Drunken with selfishness 
 
 And steeped in worldly wrong, 
 Your life you've sacrificed 
 
 To cast it with the throng. 
 
 " 'I might have given you 
 
 A great place in the sun, 
 If you had followed me 
 
 As you wisely should have done. 
 But no! a fool you'd be! 
 
 And fools do phantoms follow, 
 To find tonight from me 
 
 That all was base and hollow. 
 
 " 'Who am I, whence I came, 
 
 In trembling voice you cry. 
 Ah, that is why I'm here 
 
 Tonight to make reply. 
 The spirit of your youth, 
 
 The ghost of your ideal, 
 Am I Avho now stand here 
 
 And this to you reveal. 
 
 " 'Faithful I have been 
 And loyal until now. 
 While under your misrule 
 
 So humbly I did bow. 
 Oh hear you my request. 
 
 And freedom grant to me, 
 For I have served my time, 
 I pray thee, set me free!' 
 — 21 — 
 
"The Ghost's voice then did break, 
 
 While loudly I did shriek, 
 'I know not what you mean, 
 
 Nor that whereof you speak! 
 It's mystery all to me 
 
 And you should now explain 
 The meaning of your words, 
 
 Lest you might speak in vain.' 
 
 " 'Ah now you've set me free! 
 
 Farewell, farewell, farewell! 
 I go my way alone, 
 
 There's nothing more to tell. 
 The fact that unto you 
 
 My words are mystery 
 Alone has been enough 
 
 To set me ever free. 
 
 " 'I go my way alone 
 
 And leave you to yourself, 
 For I have no desire 
 
 For worldly pomp or pelf. 
 We ne'er shall meet again 
 
 In fact or fancy's flight; 
 I leave thee now for aye. 
 
 Good night, lost friend, good night!' 
 
 "Then loud I cried and long 
 
 While slowly thru the air 
 This phantom ghost of mine 
 
 I saw no longer there: 
 The meaning of your words 
 
 I never more shall lack, 
 I pray thee gentle ghost, 
 
 Come back, come back, come back! 
 
 "But never answer came. 
 
 Nor sign of ghost returned, 
 And now it really seemed 
 
 That rne this ghost had spurned. 
 And that is why I am 
 
 A spirit still in flight, 
 A hungry waiting soul 
 
 A-sobbing thru the night." 
 
 — 22 
 
AN INTRUDING THOUGHT 
 
 There a-throng with the mirthful crowd, 
 Strangely I thought of the pall and the shroud, 
 Asking the question, tho' not aloud. 
 If I were to die tonight? 
 
 What of the gilded ball-room's glare, 
 What of the thousand vanities there. 
 What of the men and the women so fair, 
 If I were to die tonight? 
 
 What of the painted cheeks of red. 
 What of the clever things then said, 
 Only the hosts of the countless dead. 
 If I were to die tonight? 
 
 — 23 
 
A TALE OF THE DESERT 
 
 Come perch on my knee my boy; 
 
 I've a little story to tell, 
 One I hope your heart will enjoy, 
 
 Come while your griefs I dispel; 
 For soon you must be off to bed, — 
 
 Mamma will come and tuck you in 
 To sleep wdth angels overhead: — 
 
 Come and hear my story begin. 
 
 Once in the desert so long ago 
 
 There lived a man and his only child, 
 A little boy who acted so 
 
 He nearly drove his father wild. 
 His father loved him, yes indeed. 
 
 He loathed to have him disobey, 
 It made his great big kind heart bleed 
 
 When this small boy would have his way. 
 
 So w^hen one day the father went 
 
 About his cares, the little boy 
 With heart and soul on pleasure bent 
 
 Went ofif in search of some new toy. 
 The desert called him on and on 
 
 And many miles of sand he crossed 
 And hot and fierce the sun had shone 
 
 When the lonesome little lad was lost. 
 
 When home the father came again 
 
 He knew his little boy was lost 
 And showing he was best of men. 
 
 Went out to find, nor heeding cost. 
 His heart was burning up with grief 
 
 When he thought of his lonesome lad 
 And wished to bring him sweet relief 
 
 And make his weary heart so glad. 
 
 The hardships of his little son 
 
 Lost on the desert and all alone, 
 He knew and felt them one by one, 
 
 He heard each sad and dismal moan. 
 He felt the sunbeam's blazing heat, 
 
 The sighs within his lonely heart 
 And heard his lamb's despairing bleat 
 
 And yearned and yearned to take his part. 
 
 So out in search the father went 
 
 Of his terror stricken little boy; 
 Well he knew what the desert meant 
 
 With its cruel power to destroy. 
 Nor sand nor dust that filled his mouth, 
 
 Stones nor prickles that cut his feet 
 Nor piercing thirst from desert drouth 
 
 Could turn him back in drear defeat. 
 
 — 24 — 
 
A-wandering thus the father died 
 
 With heart still full of deepest woe, 1 
 
 A-searching for his dear lost child — f 
 
 This happened, . . . . oh so long ago. \ 
 
 The little boy! Yes he was found j 
 
 In the golden light of another day 
 Long after wandering round and round, 
 
 When home again he came to stay. j 
 
 But how his father proved so true j 
 
 And on the desert died alone, | 
 
 This little lad, he never knew j 
 
 Until to manhood he had grown. i 
 
 Ah then he knew and strove to live ] 
 
 Just like his father, to the end 
 
 And if need be, his life to give ; 
 
 To help to save a needing friend. j 
 
 Yes here upon this desert earth I 
 
 Long, long ago this thing took place ] 
 
 And ever since, a newer birth j 
 
 Has come upon the human race. 
 
 The father's name was Christ, my child, ' 
 
 And lost upon the desert sand \ 
 Were all the human race run wild — 
 
 This tale some day you'll understand. 
 
 25-- 
 
HAPPY BOY 
 
 When I get to feeling blue 
 
 It seems good to have him round 
 For his laughter hits so true, 
 
 From this lad who never frowned. 
 Tho a man he seems in years 
 
 Scarce you'd know him from a boy 
 With a heart chuck full of cheers 
 
 With a strangle-holt on joy. 
 
 Singing, singing all the day 
 
 Never seems to have a grouch, 
 Ever happy, ever gay 
 
 Never slept on troubled couch. 
 Oft I see him in a dream 
 
 As I knew him long ago 
 With his happy face abeam 
 
 Showing scarce a sign of woe. 
 
 Tho his trials are not few 
 
 Still he smiles on thru life, 
 Doing not as others do — 
 
 Reaping hatred from the strife, — 
 Jolly as he moves along. 
 
 Sowing everywhere his mirth. 
 Even tho things go wrong 
 
 He's of sadness always dearth. 
 
 I have learned to love this boy 
 
 With his wondrous gift of bluff, 
 Bubbling over with his joy. 
 
 Made of splendid fighting stuff. 
 Sing on lad and play the game 
 
 Beaten you can never be. 
 For success is of the same 
 
 Stuff which fills your heart with glee.! 
 
 — 26 — 
 
THE BOY WITH THE BALDHEADED 
 EYEBROWS 
 
 Now Jim was a boy that yearned for fame 
 
 Tho his heart was good and true, 
 And the way he sought to make a name 
 
 Would almost startle you. 
 
 A bunch of the boys were whooping it up 
 
 On the campus one day in spring, 
 When out of the crowd with the speed of a pup 
 
 Came rascally Jimmie Kling. 
 
 A bet was on with the most of the crowd 
 So I knew and I watched the game, 
 
 For the bulk of the boys with noises loud 
 Followed where Jimmie came. 
 
 The bet they had made in reckless haste 
 
 So true to their Irish race 
 Was to see how each in his personal taste 
 
 Could most disfigure his face. 
 
 Like lightning into the sleeping room 
 
 Each to his only cell, 
 With Jimmie leading them on to their doom 
 
 They came like the fiends of hell. 
 
 And there with a vim each set to work 
 
 In his own peculiar way, 
 Nor a single one his task did shirk 
 
 For each would be king of the day. 
 
 And when in surprise I saw them again, 
 
 A sight no words could tell, 
 They looked like a covey of prairie hen 
 
 In flight from a hunter's shell. 
 
 But stranger and wilder than all the rest 
 
 Came volatile vagabond Kling 
 With a face excelling the very best 
 
 In his strife for the fame of the thing. 
 
 With a bleary face, sans color and hair, 
 And the look of one from the grave. 
 
 So woebegone, and a dreary stare 
 That would make a sane man rave. 
 
 — 27 — 
 
/-* 
 
 With a razor sharp he had dared to shave 
 From his brows the least vestige of hair 
 
 And now in the form of an elfish knave, 
 He entered the noonday glare. 
 
 Hs^:** **** **** 
 
 Jimmie Kling! You've beaten them all 
 In your reckless search for fame, 
 
 For here in your world, to large and small 
 A byeword you've made of your name. 
 
 But out beyond the campus pale 
 Where mighty manhood throbs. 
 
 They are calling men both strong and hale 
 To weather sighs and sobs. 
 
 So when you go to take your stand 
 
 On life's great battlefield, 
 Obey your better heart's command, 
 
 And follow with your shield. 
 
 Tho weary mind and body sore 
 
 May fight you in the game. 
 Be grit my boy unto the core 
 
 And great will be your fame. 
 
 There's not a man who ever failed 
 
 To win success in life. 
 But in the crisis sadly quailed 
 
 And perished in the strife. 
 
 28 — 
 
REVERIE 
 
 I wandered back along the way 
 
 In fancy just the other day, 
 
 To where the old brick schoolhouse stood 
 
 By running stream and bank and wood. 
 
 And there by clear and bickering stream, 
 I dreamed again my boyhood dream 
 Of manly deeds and manly strife 
 Within the zone of worldly life. 
 
 Again I builded in the air 
 With glowing heart and youthful dare, 
 Those castles of my boyhood dreams, 
 So long forgotten now it seems. 
 
 When on my musings wild there broke 
 Such noise that from my dreams I woke 
 To shouting boys and shrieking girls 
 A-move in gyroscopic whirls. 
 
 A lone lad then on mischief bent, 
 I followed up where e'er he went, 
 And saw the deed his mind had planned 
 With childish heart and cunning hand. 
 
 Then with a mighty burst of joy 
 That only comes from out a boy, 
 Away to newer deeds he went 
 Till all that energy was spent. 
 
 And as I gazed into the years 
 
 Of future toil and troubled tears, 
 
 I pondered o'er thruout the day 
 
 These words my soul so yearned to say. 
 
 ''You're foolish, boy, if you never try 
 To take to the land of 'bye and bye,' 
 Some careless abandon of the day 
 Of sport and laugh, of romp and play. 
 
 'Tis the eternal spirit of boy 
 
 Can ever give you peace and joy 
 
 When you are in your later years 
 
 'Mid friend and foe, 'mid plots and sneers. 
 
 29 
 
THE DREAMER 
 
 Last night in my dreams while a-sleeping 
 
 Strange fancies and visions I saw 
 The like of which set me beweeping 
 
 And filled me with terror and awe. 
 For there were disclosed to my vision 
 
 The battlefield's grim sullen sight, 
 The slaughter without intermission 
 
 And war's most horrible blight. 
 Till deep in the throes of my dreaming 
 
 A wish most devoutly I made — 
 Tho nations with blood may be streaming — 
 
 The minds of these men I'd persuade 
 To stop all their useless destruction, 
 
 This wholesale crim_e to decrease, 
 To spend their lives in construction 
 
 Of temples of love and of peace. 
 
 But what is the use of my rhyming 
 
 When rhymsters are laughed unto scorn? 
 And what is the use of my climbing- 
 
 To heights all alone and forlorn? 
 I'm only a dreamer; you said so; 
 
 Then let me dream on all alone 
 And wander my days in God's meadow 
 
 Of peace, with these dreams of mine own. 
 I'd rather be counted a dreamer 
 
 Than mix in affairs of the state 
 If this needs make me a schemer, 
 
 A builder of realms with your hate. 
 I like not the warrior's fighting 
 
 Tho needful sometimes it m.ay be. 
 For war shall ever be blighting 
 
 Destructful to you and to me. 
 And spite of the world's now confusion 
 
 And bloodshed and terror and war 
 Some day there'll come an infusion 
 
 Of peace, that shall grow more and more 
 Upon this old world of our waking 
 
 Till you and I shall behold 
 A new race of men in the making 
 
 As the God of Nations has told. 
 
 — 30 — 
 
L'ENVOI 
 
 AN HOUR OR SO 
 
 An hour or so in the realm of song 
 To you I hope hath not seemed long, 
 Tho critics all wise deride my work 
 This hour you gave, to me shall belong. 
 
 Then what if the learned seek for a sin 
 Against a commandment their fancy may spin: 
 'Tis not for them I have moulded my verse, 
 No: just for an hour, your favor to win. 
 
 Then shall I hope a thought you may take 
 And think it worth keeping just for its sake. 
 
 Let critics opine, it's you that I want 
 To fondle and have the verses I make. 
 
 Tho I be guilty of technical crime, 
 
 Tho faults there be in my verses and rhyme; 
 
 Thoughts have I given in words of my choice. 
 Hoping they linger with you for a time. 
 
 4 
 
 I 
 
THE GOD OF BATTLES, AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 by 
 Ambrose Leo McGreevy 
 
 In this collection of thirty poems the author plays up and 
 down the gamut of virtue and vice with rare skill. The first six 
 might be called war poems. The remaining twenty-four deal 
 with love, friendship, and nature. 
 
 Verdict of the Press 
 
 "Sounding the note of neutrality in his chief inspiration of 
 the volume lifts the collection to a plane above that of the ordi- 
 nary verse writer striving to respond to the emotional call of 
 the European strife. It is not often that a war poem is found 
 which embodies at once an element of patriotism and an argu- 
 ment in behalf of peace, a quality of virility and a fabric of deli- 
 cate imagery.'"— Tribune, Minneapolis. 
 
 "They display a variety of thought that shows a deep under- 
 standing of the emotions that rule the world. They are uplift- 
 ing and point the way to better ideals and happier interpreta- 
 tions of the real phases of life."— National Magazine, Boston. 
 
 "They breathe a sympathy with human life in its noblest as- 
 pirations." — The Standard, Chicago. 
 
 "There are many praiseworthy expressions of lofty senti- 
 ment." — The Chronicle, Pittsburgh. 
 
 "* * *Versatile and refreshing in his presentations. Lovers 
 of poetry will find it interesting." — Word and Way, Kansas City. 
 
 "There are many sweet poems in the little volume, and we 
 are sure it will be enjoyed by those who read its pages." — West- 
 ern Recorder, Louisville, Ky. 
 
 "A lofty spirit of patriotism and devotion, of courage and 
 love and religious faith is manifest in the verses that fill the pages 
 of this attractive little volume." — Herald and Presbyter, Cin- 
 cinnati, 0. 
 
 To THOSE WHO LOVE POETRY OF THE HEART THIS DAINTY 
 LITTLE VOLUME WILL ESPECIALLY APPEAL. HANDSOMELY BOUND 
 IN CLOTH. For sale at all bookstores, or DIRECT FROM US 
 
 BY MAIL POSTPAID $L00 net 
 
 JONES & KROEGER CO., PUBS., WINONA, MINNESOTA. 
 
 8D 12 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
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