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 ERNEST NEAL 
 
 Index Printing Company 
 Atlanta, Georgia 
 

 COPYRIGHT 1920 
 
 BY 
 
 ERNEST NEAL. 
 
 DEC 15 1320 
 
 ©CI.A604565 
 ' * 1 | 
 
i 
 
 Befoiratiott 
 
 P TO this hour my boast hath been that naught 
 Can stir the soul beyond the power of tongue 
 Or pen's expression; that thought can find a 
 
 way to words. 
 But as I dwell upon thy name and all thy life 
 Hath been, and must be unto me; a school 
 Girl's tender smiles, a maiden's blushing love, 
 A bride's first kiss of trust, a woman's full-blown faith, 
 A mother's gentle care — my first-born smiling on 
 Her knee; the years of joy and grief, with fortune's 
 Golden light upon the hearth, or hard-times 
 Knocking at the door — and thou the constant 
 Fount of ever pure and holy love, the source 
 Of all my strength — 
 
 My muse is dumb to nothings of poetic lore, 
 And Fancy 's glowing dreams turn pale before 
 Two pottnt words that thrill and fill my life — 
 A theme within itself the sweetest song — my wife. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 WE all have within us that indefinable something 
 called poetry; that sheet-lightning of Truth; 
 those half-wake recollections of the soul; that 
 perpetual endeavor to express the spirit of things. Not 
 all, however, are poets. 
 
 "Few can touch the magic string, 
 
 And noisy Fame is proud to win them; 
 
 Alas, for them that never sing, 
 
 But die with all their music in them." 
 
 The poet is sometimes presented to us as the harp thru 
 which passion breathes in melody. Is he not rather the 
 master musician, suggested in the above quotation, that 
 plays upon the instrument of a thousand strings and 
 sends floating thru the soul the melody of its own music? 
 or the sculptor that takes cold marble from the quarry of 
 the heart and fashions it into radiant eauty? or the painter 
 that touches up the clouds in life's dark sky, turns them 
 into chariots of living light, and sets the world a-singing 
 
 "It isn't raining rain to me, 
 It's raining daffodils?" 
 
 With this high conception of the poet's mission, I may 
 incur the charge of presumption in presenting to the pub- 
 lic eye this volume of verses that fall so far short of 
 poesy's true aim and attainment. My only defense is that, 
 in yielding to solicitations from friends who insist that 
 these products of my muse are worthy to be bound togeth- 
 er in a book, I follow the impulse of an honest heart. 
 
 Disclaiming any expectation of honor, fame or glory, I 
 do cherish a hope that midst all the physical beauty of 
 this little book its readers may find the magic window thru 
 which may come the visions of a poet's dreams. 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 ERNEST NEAL. 
 
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CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 VTOnah 7 
 
 Love Immortal 11 
 
 As Long as His Rivers Flow Into the Sea . .12 
 
 The Bell's Last Song 14 
 
 To the Grand Canyon . . . 16 
 
 In the Harbor ....... 17 
 
 The Sweetest Song 18 
 
 How Great, How Small . . 20 
 
 Love ; 21 
 
 Calhoun 22 
 
 Annie . . .23 
 
 Remember, Love 24 
 
 Calumny 26 
 
 She and He .27 
 
 Sorrow ,-. 28 
 
 Reflections 29 
 
 Beside Life's Lowly Gate 30 
 
 For the Millions of Earth's Unborn ...... 32 
 
 My Dreamland 33 
 
 To Charles W. Hubner 34 
 
 Life's Day 35 
 
 A Frog's a Frog 36 
 
 Keep Faith with Them 37 
 
 Truth . ... J .38 
 
 To Our Missing Birds , ., . „ 39 
 
 Hang a Stocking for Him 40 
 
 To The Wren .41 
 
 To Mary .........42 
 
 Gifts Exchanged .43 
 
 A Voice in The Open 44 
 
 My Piney Woodsy Girl , 45 
 
 The Unattainable 46 
 
 To Madie 47 
 
 The Lure of Song 48 
 
 Home of My Childhood Time .50 
 
Page 
 
 The Eagle at The Tomb 51 
 
 Kildee 52 
 
 Woman 54 
 
 Claire 55 
 
 On the Death of Senator A. O. Bacon 57 
 
 Life Is a Book 58 
 
 A Glory Departed 59 
 
 In the Shadow 61 
 
 Lest We Forget 62 
 
 Love's Exchange 63 
 
 The Camouflage 64 
 
 "Belgae Sunt Fortissime" 65 
 
 A Prayer 67 
 
 Videre Est Scire 68 
 
 A Wish for Annie 69 
 
 The Star and Cross 70 
 
 A Man's a Man 71 
 
 Woodrow Wilson 72 
 
 Nacoochee 73 
 
 The Knights of Argonne 76 
 
 Georgia Scenes 77 
 
 To Our Boys 82 
 
 Sic Transit 83 
 
 Worry 84 
 
 Soul Tonic 85 
 
 A Tasty Pie .86 
 
 Humanity's Reply 87 
 
 Source of Beauty 89 
 
 The Call of the South 90 
 
 Optimism 91 
 
 Life's Current 92 
 
 Labor Vincit 93 
 
 To The Printer 94 
 
 Cohutta Town 95 
 
 The Militant Suffragette 96 
 
 The Suff eragettes 97 
 
 What Next? 98 
 
 A- Modern Product 99 
 
 Why? 100 
 
 Elope and Memory 101 
 
YONAH AND OTHER POEMS 7 
 
 Yonah 
 
 1. 
 
 OMuse that deigned to loose the Pythia's tongue, 
 Nor scorned the aged hag in Delphic shrine, 
 Where erst a rustic maid in measures sung 
 Apollo's will; vouchsafe this harp of mine 
 One strain from cords attuned by touch divine. 
 What tbo the times thy holy hill deride, 
 And modern bards disdain the Heavenly Nine, 
 Thou cans't, Muse of Song, a suppliant guide 
 
 Thru paths that lead to heights where Truth and 
 Dream abide. 
 
 II. 
 
 And thou, potent Verse by Spencer wrought, 
 Steed formed and fashioned for the Faery Queen! 
 Thy measured pace hath borne majestic thought 
 ' Mong Alpine peaks and many a glorious scene 
 Where archaic shadows fall the lights between. 
 Thou courser loved by Byron's vagrant Childe! 
 My visions grasp thy mane, o'er thy neck to lean. 
 If haply, it shames thee not to be beguiled 
 
 From thine accustomed heights to paths obscure 
 and wild. 
 
8 YONAH AND OTHEB POEMS 
 
 III. 
 
 Beneath the mountains ever beauteous crest, 
 Along old Yonah's slope, the journey lies, 
 Above Nacoochee's vale, hid in a nest 
 Of tree-clad pinnacles that 'round it rise 
 Above the plain, like geni to the skies. 
 Here let us pause awhile to bathe the soul 
 In rapture o'er the scene that meets the eyes; 
 For Nature never did more gorgeous scroll 
 
 Than these entrancing charms of land and sky 
 unroll. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Not Cintra's mount, nor Cashmere's gentle vale; 
 Not Geneva's lake, nor Danube's soft blue tide; 
 Not Circassian citron grove, where the gale 
 Fans dusky beauty's cheek at eventide; 
 Not Zambezi's rocks, where the waters glide 
 In torrents that from cliff to jungle leap — 
 Not these and all this wonderous world beside — 
 Out-charm this unsung, wild, magestic steep 
 
 About whose rugged base ten thousand beauties 
 sleep. 
 
 V. 
 
 Oh, scene transcendent ! Magic mystic maze ! 
 
 Kaleidoscope of ever-varying hue! 
 
 The summer sunset paints with golden blaze, 
 
 While o'er the eastern slope, in hazy blue, 
 
 The rising moon pours forth her soft light, too. 
 
 The kiss of hastening night and lingering day 
 
 Commingle in the mellow melting view 
 
 'Till the shimmering gold and silver gray 
 
 In somber twilight shadows melt and fade away. 
 
YONAH AND OTEEB POEMS 
 
 VI. 
 
 And now 'tis night! and in shimmering sheen 
 Of moon, full orbed, and glorious evening star 
 The Chattahoochee trends his way between 
 Yon banks, whose willows trace but do not mar 
 That silver scroll adown the valley far. 
 Enchantment lingers here ! and mystic ties 
 Unite me to the glorious moon-lit scene — 
 The smiling vale, the peaks that round it rise — 
 While star-beam nerves connect my spirit with 
 the skies. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Oh, voicef ul silence ! Broodings o 'er me steal ! 
 On thee, my soul, my solemn musings dwell. 
 Thee all things hide; yet, all things thee reveal — 
 All that to archangel ever yet befell, 
 Or demon dared to dream in depths of hell, 
 Or man on sin-curst Earth hath wrought — 
 'Thou spark of God! Thy scintilations tell 
 Of star-lit realms where I may read His thought 
 
 Nor cease to be until His wondrous universe is 
 naught ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Whence earnest thou, immortal essence? Whence 
 
 These half -wake recollections of a day 
 
 Beyond the morn when thou wert ushered hence 
 
 Within this fragile tenement of clay? 
 
 Art thou of universal Soul a single ray 
 
 Caught in environments of Time and Space, 
 
 Eternal and immortal only in the way 
 
 That matter ceases not? Tho waves erase, 
 
 The ever-crumbling rocks to other forms give 
 place. 
 
10 YON AH AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 This Earth, about whose crust a soft light glows 
 From all the stars that grace the midnight sky, 
 Doth tell in stone-writ words of Nature's throes; 
 Of solar fires and perished forms that die 
 'Mid earth-quake shock and seething waters hign. 
 Thus woven in the soul — deep woven — run 
 An evidence that ever brighter grows; — 
 Instinctive threads of truth, like star-light spun, 
 Proclaim its origin from God, the central sun. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Between this rugged mount we call Today 
 And you Tomorrow's bright alluring steep, 
 Somewhere, somewhere, the summons comes to lay 
 This mortal down again with Earth to sleep. 
 But when the stars have ceased their watch to keep 
 The never-dying soul shall still explore 
 In realm of Dream or Truth the ocean deep 
 Of its own mysteries; tho on this hither shore 
 
 Dark clouds arise to thwart, and threatening 
 thunders roar. 
 
 By boatman comes ! No frown doth mar his face ; 
 
 No war-like garment wraps his kingly form, 
 
 But peaceful robe. He rescues me; in his embrace 
 
 I fall asleep ; and, sheltered from the storm, 
 
 My life is wafted from the boistrous shore. 
 
 No pain ; no grief : The heavy shadows o 'er me steal ; 
 
 The night grows dark; and yet, I question not the 
 
 morn. 
 Once in my mother 's womb I slept ; now — as then — I 
 
 feel 
 No fearful horrors ; longing to be born 
 
 Into a brighter, higher life when this is gone. 
 
YON AH AND OTHER POEMS 11 
 
 Love Immortal 
 
 WHEN the sun, grown old, 
 Is dark and cold, 
 
 And the planets are faded and gone; 
 When never his light 
 Makes the moon's face bright — 
 Oh, say, can love live on? 
 
 Every world and star 
 
 In the universe, far 
 
 As the voice of God can call ; 
 
 Count sphere on spheres 
 
 Thru countless years, 
 
 And love outlives them all. 
 
 When worlds have decayed 
 
 Love, heaven arrayed, 
 
 Will bloom in the soul of me *. 
 
 Not in the cold sod 
 
 But the bosom of God 
 
 I shall rest, sweet love, with thee. 
 
YON AH AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 IlJJ'lOiiTtl 
 
 As Long as His Rivers Flo 
 
 Info the Sea 
 
 w 
 
 HAVE you heard of the land of the Cherokees 
 With its wonderful streams and beautiful 
 trees 
 Of its flowers abloom, and the wild perfume 
 That floats like a dream on the evening breeze? 
 
 Have you heard of Echota, the capital town, 
 And the brave old chief with feathery crown ? 
 Of the warrior band, and the pow-wow grand 
 In the light of the moon when the sun goes down ? 
 
 Far away in the past this quaint land lies, 
 And around it the mists obscure arise ; 
 It is only in dreams we may hear the shrill screams 
 Of its eagles afloat in their native skies. 
 
YQNAH AND OTHER POEMS 13 
 
 ! mIT 
 
 But its rivers glide on in rhythmic flow ; 
 Through fields of today from a weird long ago — 
 The cold Chickamauga, the slow Connesauga, 
 Like their musical names gurgle soft and low. 
 
 In the laughing of the ripples of the sweet Salacoa; 
 In the falling of the current of the silvery Toccoa; 
 In the roarings of Talulah, and the splashings of 
 
 Yahoola 
 Are the wild and varied volumes of a never-written 
 
 lore. 
 
 And we list to the song of the sad Ettowah — 
 
 In his voice is a sob> a refrain from afar— 
 
 While the rough Chattahoochee makes love to 
 
 Nacoochee 
 In the shade of the- Vale of the Evening !Star. 
 
 From the gold, bearing mountains .comes the; rich 
 
 Chestatee ; ., , ]{ 
 
 Thru the valleys of the west flows the Coosawattee. 
 In their music shall roll the Indian soul 
 As long as his rivers flow into the sea. | 
 
14 YONAE AND OTEEB POEM S 
 
 The Bell's Last Song 
 
 WITH tearful eye, breast heaving 
 nigh, 
 One holy Sabbath morn, 
 A song I heard, like angel's word, 
 From old church tower borne. 
 
 Oh, need I tell what said the bell 
 As forth and back it swung ? 
 
 Thru future time no more to chime, 
 This last sweet song was sung. 
 
 All things must pass :and now, alas ! 
 
 The gray old church must fall; 
 And soon will come a loftier dome, 
 
 But I no more shall call. 
 
 Tho I be found cast low to ground 
 From high where long I've hung, 
 
 This charge I give: by the dead — who 
 live — 
 Remember the songs I've sung. 
 
 I oft have tolled when slow hearse rolled 
 
 Its burden to my door. 
 In solemn stroke these words I spoke. 
 
 "Life evermore!" "Life evermore!" 
 
YONAH AND OTEEB POEMS 15 
 
 In gentle tone — like angel's own — 
 
 I've sung on christening day; 
 On mother's breast in peaceful rest 
 The baby smiling lay. 
 
 With sweet delight on summer night 
 I've rung when the young man led 
 
 His love to shrine of love divine, 
 Where the marriage vows were said. 
 
 I've moaned and cried when father died, 
 
 And children were wailing loud; 
 I've sung from my dome to sorrowing 
 home 
 Where mother lay wrapped in her 
 shroud. 
 
 And now, oh Time ! this mellow chime 
 
 I fling to the Sabbath air, 
 From throbbing throat, is my own death- 
 note 
 
 And my last fond call to prayer. 
 
 Then, pledge me here, ye children dear, 
 
 For whom so long I've rung, 
 By love of the past to that hour, your last, 
 
 You'll cherish the songs I've sung. 
 
16 YONAH AND OTMSB POEMS 
 
 To the Grand Canyon 
 
 I LOVED thee when a boy; though to me 
 Thou were a vision of the mental eye 
 From books and pictures caught. But now I see 
 Thy splendor as it is before me lie .. ... 
 Vast, matchless, and supreme, against the sky! 
 As if old ocean, in his grandest- swell, 
 Stood still, and all his heaving billows high 
 To castles- turned, and rainbow colors fell 
 From mists of crested foam upon their walls to dwell. 
 
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YONAH AND OTHER POEMS 17 
 
 In the Harbor 
 
 AN aged man with hoary hair, 
 A little child played 'round his chair 
 And clambered on his knee. 
 The careworn face with heaven smiled; 
 Like an angel laughed the child, 
 As happy as could be. 
 
 Where life begins and where life ends, 
 Near the Father's door meet these friends — 
 And each with empty hand. 
 A soul grown tired of earthly years 
 And one untouched by sins and fears 
 Are near the golden strand. 
 
 And this is why the baby fair 
 Loves to climb on grandpa's chair 
 To greet him with a smile. 
 These friendly ships in harbor free, 
 One nearing home, one bound for sea, 
 "Would furl their sails awhile. 
 
18 Y0NA3 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 The Sweetest Song 
 
 THE sweetest song that ever was sung, 
 Do you know by whom and when? 
 It was not from the lips of an artist 
 flung 
 For the praise or the gold of men. 
 Nay; not from the opera's guilded stage, 
 
 Nor e'en from the sacred choir, 
 Has come the song of every age 
 Most potent to inspire. 
 
 In a vine-clad cot from the world apart, 
 
 Under the star-lit sky, 
 A mother sings from a mother's heart 
 
 A mother's lullaby. 
 
YONAE AND OTHER POEMS 19 
 
 The sweetest child in all the land, 
 
 Do you know whose child and where ? 
 Not the poor rich child in a mansion grand, 
 
 With its pride and worldly care, 
 But the rich poor child in that humble cot, 
 
 Under the star-lit sky, 
 Who hears that song and forgets it not, 
 
 A mother's lullaby. 
 
 The grandest man under the sun, 
 
 Shall I tell you whence he came? 
 Not at the top was his life begun, 
 
 Nay; not with a father's fame. 
 But he caught a glimpse of Heaven above, 
 
 From that home 'neath a star-lit sky, 
 As he drank with her milk a mother's love 
 
 And heard her lullaby. 
 
 The queenliest woman Earth e'er knew, 
 
 Did she grace a worldly throne? 
 Nay, not so ; but a mother true, 
 
 With God and Heaven her own, 
 She cradled her babe in a manger bare, 
 
 Beneath the star-lit sky, 
 And angels joined in a chorus there 
 
 To Mary's lullaby. 
 
YONAR AND OTHEB POEMS 
 
 How Great, How Small 
 
 HIS own soul is each man's universe; 
 What is, is what he knows and feels, 
 All else to him is nothingness. 
 Some souls contract about earth's paltry things 
 Like chiggoe skins 'round molecules of dust; 
 But some expand in ever widening waves 
 Of circling light through constellations bright 
 With God's eternal truths. 
 
YONAH AND OTHEB POEMS 21 
 
 Love 
 
 A SOUL in the desert lying — 
 The death-haunted desert of sin; 
 Without are the dead and the dying, — 
 An angel sin-prisoned within! 
 From a rock in the wilderness smitten 
 
 The life-giving water gushed; 
 From the heart on which Christ has written 
 What volumes of love have rushed! 
 
 In depths of my sin and disaster 
 
 My life was a wilderness wild; 
 But spirits love-writ by the master 
 
 Upon me like angels have smiled. 
 I would give what to me has been given, 
 
 Heart-fuls of love and good cheer; 
 I would water with showers of heaven 
 
 God's flowers a-drooping down here. 
 
YONAE AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 Calhoun 
 
 NESTLING 'mong mountains, 
 Sparkling with fountains, 
 Beautiful city Calhoun! 
 My heart ever beats 
 For thy pleasing retreats 
 
 "Where sun-light is gentle at noon; 
 For trees never made 
 A lovelier shade 
 
 Than falls on thy bosom in June. 
 
 Thy beautiful river 
 Flows onward forever — 
 
 In rhythms flows on to the sea; 
 And the farther he flows 
 The sadder he grows, 
 
 For he passes no city like thee. 
 And he mingles his groan 
 With the ocean's wild moan 
 
 While his spirit flows backward with me. 
 
 My soul, like that river, 
 Time cannot dissever; 
 
 Tho the stream of my life trends away, 
 It touches thee still; 
 Thy shock and thy thrill 
 
 Are with me forever and aye. 
 Recollections are flowers 
 In memory's bowers, 
 
 And they bloom in December and May. 
 
YONAE AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 Annie 
 
 THE dove that cooes at eventide, 
 The hawthorn blossom at its side 
 Are gentle, pure, and sweet; 
 But gentler, purer is her mind 
 Than flower or bird of any kind 
 That poet's eye can meet. 
 
 From dimpling waves resplendent gleam | 
 
 The trembling stars — a broken dream 
 Of heaven on the sea — { 
 
 But oh, her tender love-lit eyes! 
 
 They rival all the seas and skies 
 That ever shone on me. 
 
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 A dew-drop from an angel's wing 
 
 In the lily's cup — earth's fairest thing- 
 Reflected light of heaven ; -4 
 
 Thus in the chalice of my love 
 
 Is held a radiance from above — 
 The heart that she has given. 
 
24 YONAH AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 Remember, Love 
 
 OH, would you have me linger here 
 To dally, Love, with you, 
 "While Duty's voice is calling clear 
 Across the waters blue? 
 Remember, Love, 
 'Tis Duty's hand that brings to you 
 
 Honor's brightest bloom; 
 'Tis Duty's voice that sings to you 
 
 To banish fear and gloom. 
 'Tis Duty's heart that cares for you, 
 'Tis Duty's arm that bares for you 
 And do or die dares for you, 
 Remember, Love. 
 
 Oh, look not so reproachful, Love, 
 
 From tender eyes and true; 
 I hold not Duty's voice above 
 
 The call of heart, of home, of you. 
 Remember, Love, 
 To me you'll ever be the same, 
 
 And nearest when I'm far; 
 For Duty's but your other name 
 
 Amid the smoke of war. j 
 
 Thus Love and Duty cry to me, 
 And all mandkind they tie to me, 
 .Nor faith in God can die to me, 
 
 Remember, Love. ] 
 
YONAH AND OTHEB rOEMS 
 
 If you should ever call me, Love, 
 
 Across the distant blue; 
 If you should ever call, and I 
 
 Should fail to answer you, 
 
 Eemember, Love, 
 
 I'm the star that glows for you 
 
 Beyond the realm of night; 
 I'm the sun that throws for you 
 
 The summer's glorious light. 
 I'm the flag I waved for you, 
 And with my life-blood laved for you- 
 I'm all things Duty saved for you, 
 Remember, Love. 
 
26 YONAH AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 Calumny 
 
 INTO the crowd the slanderer went, 
 Mean intent! Mean intent! 
 Out of the crowd the murderer came — 
 His weapon a tongue, his victim a name — 
 Oh, for shame ! Oh, for shame ! 
 
 Bedraggled in slime, down in the dust; 
 
 How unjust! How unjust! 
 Peace, fair name by calumny hid; 
 Can a falsehood be thy coffin lid? 
 
 God forbid! God forbid! 
 
 Through dark ravine the mountain rill 
 
 Flows on still! Flows on still! 
 Forth from concealment Truth will glide 
 To her ocean eternal, deep, and wide — 
 Golden tide! Golden tide! 
 
YONAE AND OTHEB POEMS 27 
 
 She and He 
 
 HER room was cosy, trim, and neat 
 Because her soul was pure and sweet; 
 But lie with selfish humors mean — 
 A soul and body both unclean — 
 All blemished by a selfish life, 
 Was never fit for such a wife. 
 
 I see him now, as oft before, 
 
 A mud-stained wretch at her door; 
 
 I hear her voice, "Please clean your feet 
 
 Of mud the've gathered in the street." 
 
 Is it enough to clean his shoe 
 
 When heart and mind are muddy too? 
 
 If he would pause before her door 
 To clean his feet and something more; 
 Would bathe his soul in Memory's stream 
 That backward flows to Love's Young Dream, 
 The light that shone in boyhood skies 
 Might gleam afresh from the woman's eyes. 
 
 If he would pause to clean his life 
 
 Of mud that's incident to life; 
 
 If he would only enter there 
 
 With this his wish and this his prayer: 
 
 "God make my home a home of love, 
 
 A type of that which is above;" 
 
 If he would leave his cares behind 
 And never speak a word unkind; 
 If to her heart his heart he pressed 
 As pure as that within her breast; 
 If he and I and you, I mean, 
 We'd see the world "a-coming clean." 
 
YONAH AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 Sorrow 
 
 Within the cloud there is a power 
 That brings forth beauty's form, 
 
 And pins the rain-bow, like a flower, 
 On the bosom of the storm. 
 
TONAE AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 Reflections 
 
 DOWN on the village, sleeping still 
 As some old painting rare, 
 I gaze from off my favorite hill 
 Through autumn's hazy air; 
 And here in retrospective mood 
 
 I cannot choose but link 
 The chain of hours that thus I've stood 
 To gaze and dream and think. 
 
 'Twas many and many a year ago, 
 
 On a morning fair as this, 
 "When first yon smiling scene below 
 
 Enwrapped my soul with bliss. 
 How oft that smiling scene, since then, 
 
 My inmost soul hath charmed; 
 And now I'm old, I feel again 
 
 My spirit strangely warmed. 
 
 For all this wealth in simple fee 
 
 Men struggle with a will; 
 Yet all the town belongs to me 
 
 In the landscape from my hill. 
 'Tis sweet to think in life's decay 
 
 That joys of heart and mind 
 May light the path to heavenly day 
 
 And leave a glow behind. 
 
YONAE AND OTHEB POEM, 
 
 Beside Life's Lowly Gate 
 
 THERE are lives that reach the heights 
 preme 
 Where Fame and Glory call, 
 Their deeds are theme for poet's dream, 
 Their praise is sung by all. 
 But I sing not a mighty name, 
 
 Nor one of proud estate — 
 Just a woman pure who lives obscure 
 Beside Life's lowly gate. 
 
 In the breath of spring and its gentle stir 
 
 Into bud and foliage green 
 The God of Things revealed to her 
 
 The beauty of worth unseen. 
 Hid 'neath leaves is the violet fair, 
 
 And such must be thy fate; 
 But thou shalt breathe a perfume rare 
 
 Beside Life's lowly gate. 
 
YONAK AXD OTHER POEMS 31 
 
 The world sees not the trellis beneath 
 
 The vines that unto it cling, 
 Nor cares for the cord that binds the wreath 
 
 That encircles the brow of a king. 
 But the God of Things — He knoweth all, 
 
 And oft what men call great, 
 In the light of His truth, is exceedingly small 
 
 Beside Life's lowly gate. 
 
 God spake to her, and I did not know — 
 
 In my sins I could not hear — 
 But I saw His love in her life-depth glow 
 
 Like a star in waters clear; 
 And I who was weary of the day — 
 
 Blind worshiper of fate — 
 Thank God for the light that streams my vay 
 
 From out life's lowly gate. 
 
32 YONAE AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 For the Millions of Earth's Unborn 
 
 ON a table at home, in old-fashion style, 
 Lies an old-fashion book to-day; 
 In it, Grandmother, with a grandmother's 
 smile, 
 Has pressed baby's shoes away. 
 'Tis the Bible that Grandmother's mother once 
 read 
 And oft lay on Great-grandfather's knee — 
 It will go — like the shoes — when Grandmother's 
 dead, 
 To the baby that's yet to be; 
 The baby to come into life like a star; 
 That's to fill all the home with joy. 
 But Grandmother dreams of Grandbaby's Pa — 
 And she's knitting again for her boy. 
 
 Like an angel she sits, with the light on her hair; 
 
 In her face is a heavenly look, 
 As she dreams of other shoes, dainty and fair, 
 
 That she pressed in that very same book; 
 Of the cherub that came from the distant blue 
 
 And his little pink feet, zephyr bound; 
 Of the laughter-light and azure hue 
 
 In eyes with wonderment round. 
 It's many and many a year since then, 
 
 And today, while love's tears fall, 
 That little babe is one o| the men 
 
 That sail at Humanity's call 
 Under the flag of the true and the brave — 
 
 From the robe of Heaven torn — 
 For Grandmother's shoes and Freedom to save 
 
 The millions of Earth's unborn. 
 
YON AH AND OTHER POEMS 33 
 
 My Dreamland 
 
 TIME, you scam]., you've made me old, 
 You've touched my hair with white: 
 But in Memory's magic Dreamland, 
 
 My spirit, feather-light, 
 Is roving fields of pleasure 
 
 'Neath boyhood's golden skies, 
 And by me walks a little girl 
 "With tender, loving eyes. 
 
 We dreamed then of the future; 
 
 I dream now of the past ; 
 Both pictures, mingling in my soul, 
 
 Ecstatic glamours cast. 
 What was, and is, in Dream-land 
 
 Is sweeter than the real 
 When lovelight guilds the shadows 
 
 In that realm of the ideal. 
 
34 YON AH AND OTHEB POEM, 
 
 To Charles W. Hubner 
 
 J'VB seen thy face but once ; and then 
 Thy youth was gone, thy prime of man- 
 hood past; 
 But still into the hearts of men 
 
 Thy courtly grace a pleasing radiance cast. 
 Thy frame, like stately ship approaching 
 shore, 
 Rich-laden, proud, serene, and old, 
 Seemed conscious of the spirit-wealth it bore, 
 More precious than Alaska's gold. 
 
 I've seen thy face but once; and yet, 
 
 No stranger thou ; for many years ago 
 I felt thy touch, ne'er to forget, 
 
 In songs that thrilled and filled me so 
 No circumstance can e'er contrive 
 
 Thine image in my soul to mar, — 
 Can time, or space, of light deprive 
 
 The lake that's mirror to a star? 
 
 Of Harris, Ryan, Hayne, Lanier, 
 
 In classic sonnets hast thou sung — 
 "Within each note a sigh, a tear, 
 
 For harps upon the willow hung. 
 Thy soul, akin to theirs, why should I wait 
 
 To find its last and loftiest dream? 
 My wreath accept this side the pearly gate — 
 
 An humble bard's love and esteem. 
 
YONAE A&D OTEEB POEMS 35 
 
 Life's Day 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 OJE bright star, herald of the day, 
 Proclaims the coming of the sun, 
 'he smaller lights, with lessening ray, 
 In brightening sky fade one by one. 
 Young life, how like the breaking of the morn! 
 
 Hope is the star that 'lumes thy opening sky; 
 When childish joys, the smaller lights, are gone, 
 Hope brightens into day, but does not die. 
 
 NOON. 
 
 High in the zenith shines the sun 
 
 And floods the earth with heat and light; 
 Unseen, forgot, the stars shine on; 
 
 Earth-splendor dims their radiance bright: 
 'Tis thus in manhood's golden prime 
 
 The distant lights of heaven fade; 
 Success obscures the stars of that fair clime 
 
 When all the world's with light arrayed. 
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 Behind the hill the sun sinks down to rest, 
 
 Dark shadows fall o'er land and sea; 
 One bright star blooms out of the west 
 
 And gems bedeck night's canopy. 
 Thus comes old age. Earth-light burns low — 
 
 The sable mantle soon descends — 
 The stars of Hope and Faith in heaven glow; 
 
 Where life began, its brief day ends. 
 
YONAB AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 A Frog's a Frog 
 
 A FROG in low and marshy ground 
 Where mud and trash and filth abound 
 Did croak and eroak in accents harsh. 
 A sad complaint against the marsh. 
 ' ' Ah, me!" said he, "If I could be 
 Exalted to some lofty tree, 
 No feathered songster of the spring, 
 No nightingale could me outsing." 
 
 The rain poured down, the creek rose high, 
 
 The frog was lifted to the sky. 
 
 The waters fell, the frog had lit 
 
 Twixt limbs of lofty oak to sit. 
 
 He tried to sing, but the breezes bore 
 
 The same harsh croakings as before. 
 
 Know this truth a frog's a frog, 
 
 Perched on high or sunk in bog. 
 
 A bird on the ground with broken wing 
 
 Can look to the sky and a sweet song sing. 
 
 My moral is plain: It's better to be 
 
 A bird on the ground than a frog in the tree. 
 
TON AH AND OTHEB POEMS 37 
 
 Keep Faith with Them 
 
 IN Flanders Field the poppies glow — 
 With brighter hue than poppies know- 
 O'er soil enriched with crimson flood 
 Of many a martyr hero's blood. 
 In Flanders Field each poppy red 
 Is Freedom's torch flung by the dead. 
 "Keep faith with us," the poppies say 
 For voices hushed beneath their clay. 
 Keep faith with them? When we forget 
 May sun and stars forever set! 
 God of Love! unite at length 
 The nations in a league whose strength 
 Shall hold a world in peaceful span 
 And crown at last the Son of Man. 
 
YONAE AND OTEEB TO. 
 
 Truth 
 
 FALSEHOOD has a thousand tongues, 
 Truth, has only one; 
 But falsehood gone, truth moves on 
 Eternal as the sun. 
 
YONAH AND OTEEB POEMS 39 
 
 To Our Missing Birds 
 
 THE red bird will come to my window in 
 spring, 
 And warble his wild, fresh notes; 
 The mocking bird even in winter will sing 
 
 When a dream on the south wind floats ; 
 The thrush and the wren, again and again 
 
 Will sing ere the snow melts away ; 
 And the fussy jay bird is bound to be heard 
 
 In December as well as in May; 
 But gone from the land is the little joree, 
 
 Once the source of my innocent joy. 
 And where, oh where can the bluebird be, 
 The bird I loved most when a boy? 
 
 The sparrow still chirps from peep-o-the-dawn 
 
 'Till shadows of evening fall, 
 When chuck-wills-widow, all sad and forlorn, 
 
 Kesponds to quaint whippor-wills call. 
 Whistling bob-white with cheering delight I 
 
 Still gladdens his lady love, 
 While floats on the breeze from green woodland 
 trees 
 
 The sweet plaintive coo of the dove. 
 But gone from the land is the little joree 
 
 Once the source of such innocent joy, 
 And where, or where can the bluebird be, 
 
 The bluebird I loved when a boy? 
 
40 YON AH AND OTHER POEMS ' 
 
 Hang a Stocking for Him 
 
 IT is Christmas eve, and faces bright 
 Are gleaming with joy and hearthstone light. 
 Papa has come from his work to rest — 
 Has come to his home like a bird to his nest. 
 Bnt here, be it said, no bird ever cooed 
 To tenderer mate or happier brood. 
 It may be a mansion, it may be a cot — 
 It matters not which, and it matters not what — 
 A home is a heaven and a heaven is home 
 Where love-lights are burning and papa has 
 
 come 
 This night of all nights to gladden and cheer 
 "With fruits of his labor the circle most dear. 
 
 Hang up baby's stocking, but think when you 
 
 do 
 Of the boys that are fighting for God, home 
 
 and you ; 
 Of the sacrifice duty is making to love — 
 Of the men who place country all things above. 
 There are things in this life that money can't 
 
 buy— 
 The values are fixed by the courts of the sky — 
 Hang a stocking for him without children or 
 
 wife 
 Who, for you, and for yours, is giving his life ; 
 Who kissed his young sweetheart, yea, kissed 
 
 her good-bye, 
 For my home and yours to fight or to die. 
 Hang a stocking for him in tenderest mood, 
 And fill with the crystals of deep gratitude — 
 Yes, deep and as high as heaven's bright 
 
 dome — 
 To the saviors of love, innocence, home. 
 
YONAH AND OTHEB POEMS 41 
 
 To The Wren 
 
 THE song you sing today, sweet wren, 
 Is the song I heard when a boy; 
 Your little throat now — like my young heart 
 then — 
 Is ringing with notes of joy. 
 
 You sing me back to a sunny clime, 
 You are wreathing me with a spell ; 
 
 The wild fresh joys of boyhood time 
 In my sin-seared bosom swell. 
 
 It's many any many a year since then, 
 But I love you the same, sweet bird; 
 
 My heart is a child's when the song of the wren 
 Mid the cares of life is heard. 
 
42 YONAE AND OTHEB POEM, 
 
 To Mary 
 
 SILENT and still are the depths that are deepest 
 'Neath billows that never can break on the 
 shore ; 
 In fathomless love, my Mary, thou sleepest 
 Where song is a dream, hushed and supreme, 
 Deep in my life's most innermost core. 
 
 Unthought-like thoughts that cannot be spoken — 
 
 Half -wake memory, swells of the soul 
 That breaks not in words — let silence betoken; 
 No song can impart the throbs of my heart, 
 
 The depths of emotions within it that roll. 
 
YON AH AND OTHEB POEMS 43 
 
 Gifts Exchanged 
 
 I STOOD at the gate of the world. 
 Ambition said, "Grasp the view!" 
 My blood through its channels flew, 
 Mad-drunken with joy, like wine. 
 
 Wealth, honor and fame I beheld. 
 My heart said, "These shall be mine." 
 
 I went my way through the world, 
 To gain and conquer, I fought. 
 I achieved the ends I sought 
 
 But to sigh and whimper and moan ; 
 Ambition's goal achieved, 
 
 Love's treasure was yet unknown. 
 
 God said, "Sell all, and for me." 
 I laid my all at His feet, 
 Gave up life's bitter for sweet — 
 
 All that I had I have given — 
 
 My cup that was full of the world 
 
 I emptied; HE filled it with Heaven. 
 
44 YON AH AND T H E It POEMS 
 
 I 
 
 A Voice in The Open 
 
 THOUGHT I had bliss by the ears 
 And could lasso the stars from the sky; 
 But I 've missed in the throw, it appears— 
 
 It's trouble got roped, and I. 
 
 I've lost all I had in the world, 
 I've missed all the ends I sought; 
 
 In the coil for happiness twirled, 
 It's trouble and me that's caught. 
 
 I look from the ground to the trees, 
 
 All clad in radiant green; 
 Where sweet-scented leaves now wave to the 
 breeze, 
 
 Last winter bare limbs were seen. 
 
 And I rise as one from the dead; 
 
 To the God of the oaks I cry, 
 "Oh, help me, like them, to lift up my head 
 
 Tho bare to a wintry sky! 
 
YONAR AND OTHER POEMS 45 
 
 My Piney-Woodsy Girl 
 
 WAY down in Southern Georgia 
 Where blows the ocean breeze, 
 And moss, in festoons hanging, 
 Adorns the cypress trees, 
 Across the Dixie Highway 
 
 Bright sandy roadlets pass, 
 With many a little by-way 
 
 White ribboned through the grass; 
 Where vines of yellow jasamine 
 
 And honeysuckle curl, 
 
 I found among the blossoms 
 
 My piney-woodsy girl. 
 
 She's fairer than the fairest 
 
 Of all the flowers that grow, 
 And to me she is the dearest 
 
 Of God's things here below. 
 Her hair is like the sun-light, 
 
 Her brow like marble stone; 
 And from her eyes a love-light 
 
 Soft shines for me alone; 
 Her lips are like two rubies, 
 
 Her teeth are purest pearl, 
 *" With pinks her checks are blushing, 
 
 My piney-woodsy girl. 
 
 You may talk about your faries 
 
 With light and airy wing; 
 Of moon-lit isles enchanted 
 
 Where siren voices sing, 
 But life in dear old Georgia 
 
 Down by the rolling sea 
 In sugar cane and pinder field 
 
 Is sweet enough for me. 
 There joys of earth and heaven 
 
 Like angel wings unfurl 
 About a nymph in flesh and blood, 
 
 My piney-woodsy girl. 
 
46 YONAH AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 The Unattainable 
 
 MY soul is a bird whose yearning desire 
 Is beaten and baffled by fate; 
 Soar where it will, evading and higher 
 
 Away in the blue is its mate. 
 Still would I dream on, bright visions of thee 
 
 Pursuing, loved ideal! 
 Tho never, alas, this heart of me 
 Shall throb 'gainst the heart of the real. 
 
YONAH AND OTHEB POEMS 47 
 
 To Madie 
 
 TODAY from out thine eyes bedimmed with 
 tears 
 There beamed into my life a tender light, 
 As when, thru riven cloud, a star appears 
 To bloom in what were else a starless night. 
 
 Thy voice, albeit sad, to me was bliss — 
 
 'Twas thine own self dissolved in note and trill — 
 
 And fell upon my soul as falls the kiss 
 Of gentle south-wind on a wintry hill. 
 
 Thy lips, thy cheeks, thy sad but radiant smile, 
 Thru sorrow's veil shone sweet to me; 
 
 And thou did'st tell thy grief but to beguile 
 My thoughts from grief to thee and only thee. 
 
 Oh, wonder not that beauty such as thine 
 My soul from dreams of sorrow broke. 
 
 Thy griefs but zephyrs are, thou tender vine, 
 And I the tempest-beaten oak. 
 
48 YON AH AND OTHER POEM, 
 
 The Lure of Song 
 
 I BROKE the charm that held me fast 
 To love of nature and of song 
 And thought my soul had chimed its last 
 Found echo to the aerial throng 
 Afloat the sylvan shades among. 
 
 I broke the charm to play a part 
 For honor and the gold of men, 
 
 Nor deemed my proud, ambitious heart 
 Would ever melt in song again, 
 Or be the same it once had been. 
 
 For poetry — a heavenly flame — 
 In poverty and woe is borne ; 
 
 The grave illumed by poet's fame 
 But ends a life looked on with scorn, 
 Tho marble shaft that grave adorn. 
 
YONAH AND OTHER POEMS 49 
 
 I broke the charm ! Ah foolish me ! 
 The spring-time comes, I feel the lure 
 
 'Mong crowds of men — where e 'er I be — 
 Of mountain breeze, of waters pure, 
 And dreams that must with life endure. 
 
 Still comes and lingers in my soul 
 The beauty of the spring-time light ; 
 
 The sun and stars above me roll, 
 
 Still glows the day and smiles the night- 
 Bird notes are sweet and flowers bright. 
 
 "When morning lifts or evening falls 
 Or noontide floods the land and sky, 
 
 "To song! To song!" fond nature calls; 
 The birds sing on and ask not why — 
 Awake, my muse ! we, too must try. 
 
60 YONAH AND OTHEB POEMS 
 
 Home of My Childhood Time 
 
 OH, bursting buds and odors sweet! 
 Oli, woods and fields and skies! 
 Ok ■•" ciT..iimg, joy-laden Spring, 
 Charmed by your love-lit eyes! 
 You bring me dreams of long ago, 
 
 A sun-lit flowery clime; 
 A magical maze of gladsome days 
 In the home of my childhood time. 
 
 Like a stream from the dwindling snow 
 
 My sun-warmed spirit creeps 
 Through melting cares to vanished years 
 
 Where dreaming Memory sleeps 
 Lapped in the sweets of spring 
 
 And soothed by the tinkling chime 
 Of music that floats in sweet bird notes 
 
 In the home of my childhood time. 
 
 Away with the wisdom of years! 
 
 I'm young and happy again; 
 The south wind's mood steals into my blood, 
 
 My soul into songs of the wren; 
 And, with all the sweet voices of spring, 
 
 Is afloat in a sun-lit clime 
 'Mong flowers to rest and build her nest 
 
 In the home of my childhood time. 
 
YONAH AND OTHEB POEMS 51 
 
 The Eagle at the Tomb 
 
 THERE 'S magic in thy name ! 
 Immortal is thy fame ! 
 Thy grave to freedom dear! 
 'Til Humanity has won 
 And vanquished is the Hun, 
 Lafayette, I am here. 
 
 My wing in gratitude 
 And fond solicitude 
 
 Has braved the distant blue; 
 My beak shall find a way 
 A debt of love to pay — 
 
 My debt to France and you. 
 
 Thy soul is in my screams 
 And from my keen eyes gleams 
 
 As from thy native sky, 
 Four million strong the brood — 
 Columbia's noblest blood 
 
 Is here to save or die ! 
 
TONAE AND OTHEB POEMS 
 
 Kildee 
 
 OVER the marshy plain, 
 Swift is thy flight ! 
 Forth and back, again, again, 
 
 Thru the lonesome night. 
 Soft and plaintive is the note — 
 
 Wild, and weird, and free — 
 Coming from thy little throat, 
 Quaint and sad kildee. 
 
 Oh, with what feeling, rare, 
 
 Floats my soul along 
 Out in the moonlit air, 
 
 Captive by thy song! 
 Where the palm and bullrush grow 
 
 On the watery lea, 
 With thy song my fancies go, 
 
 Magical kildee. 
 
TONAH AND OTHEB POEMS 53 
 
 Borne on thy dewy wing 
 
 Thru the darkening gloam, 
 All my thoughts go wandering 
 
 With thy song to roam; 
 And the voices of the dead 
 
 Seem calling unto me, 
 In a solemn chorus led 
 
 By thy sad "Kildee!" 
 
 Oh, thou minstrel of the night ! 
 
 Bird of gloomy age! 
 Emblem of the spirit's flight 
 From its earthly cage ! 
 When the cloudlets hover low, 
 
 Teach thy notes to me ; 
 Singing through the gloom to go, 
 
 I would learn of thee. 
 
54 YONAE AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 Woman 
 
 WOMAN is a flower, 
 That fills with fragrance rare 
 Man's every breathing hour, 
 
 When he gives his loving care. 
 But crushed the tender bosom, 
 
 How soon he is bereft 
 Of the sweetness of the blossom — 
 But a thorny stem is left. 
 
YONAH AND OTHER POEMS 55 
 
 Claire 
 
 (Tenderly dedicated To Her Mother) 
 
 OH, weak are my words to the thoughts of my 
 brain 
 And the feelings that rise in my heart; 
 Oft have I sought expression in vain 
 
 To sensations that thrill me with exquisite pain 
 Too pure and too holy for. words to impart. 
 
 The dreams of my soul into crystals congeal . ! 
 
 That reflect less of earth than the sky; ] 
 
 I weep and I weep, but cannot reveal 
 The visions that brighten the tears in my eye. ! 
 
 'Tis the source of my thoughts that makes them sa 
 deep; 
 
 And the cause, the feeling so rare: 
 For I stand o'er a grave where my love lies asleep, 
 
 And memory floods my soul, as I weep, 
 With visions of beautiful Claire. 
 
 Like a flower that comes from the bosom of spring; 
 She came from the goodness of God ; 
 
 Like a flower she bloomed, a heavenly thing, 
 To brighten the paths that we trod. 
 
 Like a flower she gave forth sweetest perfume 1 
 
56 YON AH AND OTHER POEM 
 
 When affliction her young life pressed; 
 And jeven in death, like a crushed fair bloom, 
 
 She sweetened our grief and lighted our gloom 
 With loves holy radiance blest. 
 
 An angel asleep in her coffin enshrined, 
 Like a lily in a snow-white vase — 
 
 Fairer was she than the love-wreath entwined 
 That encircled her heavenly face. 
 God's thoughts are the flowers; and everywhere 
 
 When I see them in spring-time bright, 
 They will breathe of their playmate, beautiful Claire, 
 
 And in winter's gloom these memories rare 
 Will fill all my soul with their light. 
 Eternal spring will come some day, 
 
 And out from the bursting sod 
 My flower will rise to bloom alway 
 
 In the beautiful Garden of God. 
 
YON AH AND OTHEJ POEMS $1 
 
 Oft the Death of Senator A. 0. Bacon 
 
 N 
 
 OW, noble Georgian, thy journey is ended; 
 Hushed is thy voice, and stilled is thy hand. 
 The tears of thy state and the nation are 
 blended, 
 And grief, life a pall, hangs over the land. 
 
 In the bosom of God thy spirit is sleeping, 
 Bright be thy visions in heavenly dream; 
 
 While over a grave a country is weeping, 
 The deeds of thy life in radiance beam. 
 
 In the light of the truth and of duty going, 
 Courage was thin en the hard-fought fight ; 
 
 Steadfast thy ship when the tempest was blowing, 
 Serene was the sail, guided by right. 
 
 Like a sun that is set, a bright glow leaving, 
 Thy life yet illumes Georgia's fair sky; 
 
 Gladdening her spirit while over thee grieving, 
 Thy service lives on ; it never can die ! 
 
58 YOK,AE AND OTEEB POEMS 
 
 Life Is a Book 
 
 LIFE is a book of strange reading, 
 The days are the pages we've passed; 
 Hard are the words, and the spelling 
 More difficult grows to the last. 
 Let Truth be our lamp, and the meaning 
 Her light on the FINIS shall cast. 
 
YONAE AND. OTEEB POEMS 59 
 
 A Glory Departed 
 
 THE mountains above the village, 
 With armies of trees sublime; 
 Titanic oaks and chestnuts, 
 ; Sentinel monarchs of time. 
 
 For centuries had they stood there — 
 Planted by God's own hand, 
 
 But man with his axe has felled them ; 
 For greed had need of the land. 
 
 Now gone the kingdom of beauty, 
 Where's the wealth can pay 
 
 The cost of producing the splendor 
 Torn from the mountains away? 
 
60 YON AH AND OTHEB POEMS 
 
 I weep in fond recollection 
 Of charms that over me hung ; 
 
 The trees on the mountains whispering, 
 Each quivering leaf a tongue. 
 
 They spoke in tones primeval 
 Secrets no more to be heard; 
 
 Only the woods could tell them, 
 They melt at touch of a word. 
 
TONAH AND OTHEB POEMS 61 
 
 In the Shadow 
 
 N the shadow of the world 
 The realm of darkness lies; — 
 In the shadow of the world 
 
 The stars of heaven rise. 
 In the shadow of the world 
 
 Earth-glamour fades and dies;— 
 In the shadow of the world 
 
 God's lamps are in the skies. 
 In the shadow of the world 
 
 My soul in sorrow sighs; — 
 In the shadow of the world 
 
 Are gleams of angel's eyes. 
 
YONAH AND OTEEB PO. 
 
 Lest We Forget 
 
 HE Now is but the eye, the hand, the head 
 Unto the ever-lengthening Then; 
 The past — a mighty giant — is not dead, 
 But lives in every Where and When. 
 
 T 
 
 Mere phantoms of the things that were 
 Are all the things that yet must be; 
 
 Today we dream Tomorrow from 
 The unforgotten Yesterday. 
 
 Almighty God, how we forget 
 
 Thy vengeance on the guilty Cain! 
 
 We dream the dream of envy yet, 
 And brother is by brother slain. 
 
 Shall memory hold to greed and crime 
 And all the wrongs that sin hath bred? 
 
 Nor light her torch with love sublime 
 By heaven thru the ages shed? 
 
 Oh, Star that shone on Judea's hill! 
 
 Lead kindly, Light; we'll follow thee; 
 Through Hate's dark cloud breaks on us still 
 
 The dream of love that's yet to be. 
 
YONAH AND OTHER PO 
 
 Love's Exchange 
 
 IF the wind give breath to the rose, 
 The rose will the wind perfume; 
 If the sun the lily unclose, 
 It gives to the sun its bloom. 
 
 It is like this with men: 
 
 God's flowers and hearts are true; 
 Give them your best, and then 
 
 Their best will come back to you. 
 
64 YON AH AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 The Camouflage 
 
 FROM Night — which is another name for Death — 
 In bright 'ning Morn began the Sun to rise, 
 When grouchy East Wind, his polluted breath 
 Condensing into cloud, from mortal eyes 
 Concealed and then denied the source of peaceful 
 skies. 
 
 Cold North Wind, too, with harsh and blustering 
 blast, 
 In tones of War and Want and wailing Woe, 
 
 Did o'er the sky his black-winged legions cast 
 To screen with shadows Heaven's peaceful glow 
 And wrap in shroud of gloom the Earth below. 
 
 Ah, Wrong and Error! Hinder how you will, 
 You cannot blot the light that comes from high! 
 
 Majestic, calm, serene, and glorious still, 
 The Sun shines on thru clouded sky — 
 You cannot blacken Truth by blinding mortal eye ! 
 
YONAH AND OTHER POEMS 65 
 
 "Belgae Supt Fortissimi" 
 
 OH, Belgium, thou art a garden swept by storm ! 
 Thy fields are seared in flames that lick the 
 sky; 
 Thy Queen and angel kneels in woman's form 
 To bend with helpless hand and streaming eye 
 Above the ground whereon her starving subjects 
 He. 
 "Where thy country's heroes?" This to thy King 
 "In trenches dead and dying," his reply 
 That crowned the men uncrowned, with greater 
 thing 
 Than coronets or titles grand to royal blood can 
 bring. 
 
YONAS AND OTHEE POEMS 
 
 Oh, grateful King ! Far brighter on thy head 
 
 Is love entwined in mournful cypress leaf 
 
 Than all the laurels worn by tyrant, dead 
 
 To the soldier's sacrifice, the widow's grief, 
 
 The unhistoric names that hail him chief. 
 
 And Belgium, least at fault, severest torn, 
 
 Thou yet shall rise from all thy grief; 
 
 From darkest night shall come thy brightest morn, 
 
 And sweetest roses bloom from every piercing thorn. 
 
 The God of Peace thy suffering heart hath seen; 
 His hosts on earth have loved thee from afar, 
 His angels paint upon the sky thy hapless Queen 
 Enwreathed with lurid clouds; we call that picture 
 
 "War." 
 Oh innocence, thou art the sacrifice for sin ! 
 The dove must bleed to wash the vulture's sear. 
 At last, Thou Christ, who far too oft hast been 
 Upon Earth's cruel cross, shalt be her heart within. 
 
YON AH AND OTHEE POEMS 67 
 
 A Prayer 
 
 I SAW a fragile craft afloat 
 At sea some twenty leagues or more, 
 The course and speeding of the boat 
 Directed by a man ashore. 
 
 Electric waves sent from the beach 
 The boat's adjusted relays fill; 
 
 Eeceiver and propeller reach, 
 To do the distant pilot's will. 
 
 Thus may I on life's great sea, 
 
 With heart attuned to things above, 
 
 Let faith and hope receive for me 
 God's wireless, tireless will and love. 
 
68 YONAH AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 Videre Est Scire 
 
 A COLLEGE bred youth, conceited and 
 vain, 
 Met an honest old quaker one day ; 
 And soon he began in the usual strain, 
 The old infidel role to play. 
 The Bible, forsooth, he could not believe, 
 And freely asserted the fact; 
 Though willing, indeed was he, to receive 
 Any proof of each word and act. 
 With learning profound and logical air 
 He reasoned that "Heaven and Hell 
 May all be a myth, since if any go there 
 They never come hack to tell. 
 A thing to be known must be seen," said the 
 
 youth, 
 And the heat of his logic expired; 
 The quaker chimed in, "If that be the truth, 
 Hast thou orains?" He retired. 
 
TONAH AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 A Wish for Annie 
 
 (Inscribed on the back of a five-dollar check — a 
 wedding present.) 
 
 LOVE finds a way 
 On your wedding day, 
 
 Whether dollars be many or few; 
 Not the cost of the gift 
 Brings the spirit's uplift — 
 
 It's the wish that comes with it to yon. 
 
 May your life current flow 
 Where the love-lights glow 
 
 As soft as the moonbeam's kiss; 
 May your boat ever glide 
 On a silvery tide 
 
 Of matrimonial bliss. 
 
 And when at last 
 Life's journey is past, 
 
 And the shadow of night bends low, 
 May you find sweet rest 
 In the Infinite's breast 
 
 Beyond the sunset's glow. 
 
70 YON AH AND OTHER POE 
 
 The Star and Cross 
 
 ONE star alone among the host of spheres 
 Unmoved remains thru all the countless 
 years, 
 Save that constant constellation bright, 
 
 The Southern Cross, whose guiding light 
 Directs the sailor's course beyond the line 
 Where that one star does not shine. 
 
 A Mariner on life's great sea, 
 
 There is one star that guideth me 
 How rough or smooth the waves I stem, 
 
 The blessed Star of Bethlehem ! 
 And should that Star fade from my eyes 
 
 Another Guide is in the skies. 
 North or South, I fear no loss 
 
 As long as shine the Star and Cross. 
 
YON AH AND OTHEB POEMS 
 
 A Man's a Man 
 
 OH, would you know in this big world 
 Who's really up or really down? 
 Then look not on the pauper's rags, 
 
 Nor count too high the monarch's crown. 
 
 We measure men too much by things — 
 The accidents of rank or birth — 
 
 The poor we scorn, yet all are kings 
 That wear the crown of honest worth. 
 
72 YON AH AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 Woodrow Wilson 
 
 A MAN of iron, in an age of gold! 
 golden heart in a world of steel! 
 As the dove art gentle; as the eagle bold; 
 To the King of Kings alone dost kneel. 
 The trust of all the world! Freedom's Knight! 
 
 The Glorious Chief who feels and toils 
 'Gainst brutes that prate the "Righteousness of 
 Might" 
 And "To the Victor Belong the Spoils." 
 
 No tyrant, crowned! No scion of a royal tree; 
 
 No boaster of a proud and mighty name, 
 But from the world's great heart, like Neptune from 
 the sea, 
 
 The product and the arbiter he came. 
 He speaks for Earth — to Notus, Euros, Auster, all — 
 
 "Back to your homes in North and South and 
 East and West ! 
 Nor evermore let conflict and confusion fall 
 
 Where God designs life, work, and rest." 
 
 Henceforth the knave is rated with the fool! 
 
 Virtue lives, and Vice must starve in rags! 
 A man's a man, and life's no pool 
 
 Where Might wins for kings whlie Justice lags. 
 "What fool but knows if at The Hague 
 
 Had Prussia wise as Russia been, 
 !Her Kaiser ne'er had proved her fatal plague 
 
 And Russia's ruin by his black sin? 
 
TON AH AND OTHER POEMS 73 
 
 Nacoochee 
 
 I. 
 
 LONG years ago, in the evening shade 
 Of the beautiful mount called Yonah, 
 Nacoochee dwelt, an Indian maid, 
 In the tent of her sire, Kanonah, 
 In the tent of the chief, Kanonah. 
 In that woodland wild, when she was a child, 
 
 None knew her but to love her; 
 For the charms she wore were such as bore 
 The angels watching above her, 
 Bright angels watching above her. 
 
 II. 
 
 And this maiden loved as few can love 
 The brave young Prince, Chattahoochee, 
 
 But the chief had sworn by the lands above 
 None ever should wed Nacoochee, 
 His daughter, the fair Nacoochee. 
 
 And thus it was the Princess sighed 
 As she left the tent of Kanonah, 
 
 To meet her Prince and become his bride 
 On the top of the mountain Yonah, 
 On the grand old summit of Yonah. 
 
74 Y ON AH AND OTHEB POEMS 
 
 III. 
 
 Her heart beat high, as nearer the sky, 
 
 So darkly bright above her, 
 And now 'tis passed, she's happy at last 
 
 In the fond embrace of her lover, 
 
 In the warm embrace of her lover. 
 The sun had set, and bright the stars 
 
 In heaven's vault were shining; 
 Kanonah, the chief of many scars, 
 
 In his tent sat sad repining, 
 
 In his tent sat lone repining. 
 
 IV. 
 
 With grief oppressed he smote his breast, 
 
 And swore by all his power 
 That naught could save the daring brave 
 
 Who had robbed him of his flower, 
 
 Narcooehee, his wigwam flower. 
 Uprising then he grasped his bow; 
 
 And up the mountain flying, 
 He reached the lofty summit, lo ! 
 
 He hears Narcooehee sighing, 
 
 His lost Narcooehee sighing. 
 
YON AH AND OTHER POFMS 75 
 
 V. 
 
 "Why, Maiden, sigh when love is nigh? 
 
 To thy tender heart no stranger; 
 The spirit light that puts to flight 
 
 All thoughts of care and danger, 
 
 All dreams of care and danger." 
 These soft words her lover spoke, 
 
 And spake no more forever; 
 E'en while his voice the stillness broke, 
 
 Kanonah grasped the quiver, 
 
 Kanonah seized the quiver, 
 
 VI. 
 
 Withdrew a dart, aimed at the heart 
 
 Of the daring Chattahoochee; 
 The arrows gleam, in the moon's bright beam, 
 
 Falls on the eye of Nacoochee, 
 
 The dark, soft eye of Nacoochee. 
 ' ' Oh, spare his life ! ' ' the maiden cries, 
 
 To her lover's bosom clinging. 
 But the cord is loosed ! the arrow flies, 
 
 A dirge on the night wind singing, 
 
 A dirge on the night wind singing. 
 
 The poisoned dart pins fast her heart 
 
 To her lover's bosom core; 
 And, face ot face, in Death's embrace 
 
 They are joined to part no more, 
 
 In Heaven they'll part no more. 
 
76 YONAH AND OTHEB POEMS 
 
 The Knights of Argonne 
 
 OH, think you romance is a thing of the past, 
 And the days of true chivalry gone? 
 Love's phases may change, but love? It will 
 last 
 As long as the heart of the human beats on. 
 The setting may vary, the carbon's the same; 
 And a diamond on Ptolemy's brow 
 From the smelting-pot came 
 Of the young world aflame 
 Along with the diamonds that flash for us 
 now. 
 
 No knight of King Atrhur, no hero of old 
 
 Was braver than men you saw yester-e'en; 
 Our soldier boys, counting love dearer than gold, 
 
 None braver than they ever have been! 
 At home or in France 'mid cannon's loud roar — 
 
 Wherever Old Glory is flung to the breeze — 
 You may seek evermore 
 
 The long ages o'er, 
 
 The knightliest knights will be found among these. 
 
YONAH AND OTHER POEMS 77 
 
 Georgia Scenes 
 
 OH, for the gift of Bobby Burns! 
 I'd write a song in praise 
 Of Geogia scenes and Georgia homes 
 
 In simple southern phrase. 
 'Twould touch and charm the souls of men 
 Like his own Scottish lays. 
 
 For sure 'mong Scotia's rugged hills 
 
 No purer life can be 
 Than blooms on Georgia's varied slope 
 
 From her mountains to the sea. 
 Nor marsh nor cove less charming are 
 
 Than bight and glen and lea. 
 
 Where Oostanaula's flowing tide 
 
 Makes music to the ear, 
 And fertile valleys spreading wide 
 
 Among the hills appear, 
 You'll find the Georgia cotter's home 
 
 And all its inmates dear. 
 
78 YON AH AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 Here Saturday night's much the same 
 
 As on the Ayr or Clyde; 
 The Holy Book whose "heavenly flame" 
 
 Lit Scotia's ingleside 
 This hearthstone 'lumes, and Jesus' name 
 
 And love and peace abide. 
 
 The bairms, or chaps, it matters not 
 
 "Whatever name we give — 
 Perhaps 'mong these, one little tot 
 
 May in the White House live, 
 And for each scolding that he got 
 
 Ten thousand cheers receive. 
 
 God bless the barefoot country boy — 
 The home-spanked, prayed-for kind — 
 
 That catches bird notes in his heart 
 And sunbeams in his mind; 
 
 His pants uncreased, he'll make a man 
 By Nature's law refined. 
 
YONAE AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 In field with flaky cotton white, 
 
 Or green with graceful waving corn, 
 
 In honest toil he finds delight 
 
 And knows no task to shirk or scorn, 
 
 But welcomes rest that comes with night 
 To limbs by faithful labor worn. 
 
 Sweet, gentle slesep ! How soft, how soon 
 Thy mantle falls upon the farm! 
 
 When katy-dids hum their drowsy tune 
 In dewy the woodland's shelt'ring arm, 
 
 And the mellow light of full-orbed moon 
 Floods the scene with dreamy charm. 
 
 This is the hour when from his tree 
 The mock-bird's varied song is heard; 
 
 With sorrow melts, or charms with glee 
 Beyond the reach of poet's word. 
 
 What notes ! What trills ! What ecstacy 
 Floats from the soul of that kingly bird! 
 
80 YON AH AND OTHEB POEMS 
 
 The scene must change — the rosy beams 
 Of morning now light up the sky; 
 
 Sweet Rose awakes from pleasing dreams, 
 And blue-birds chirp from trees near by, 
 
 ""We're glad you're up! To us it seems 
 The day comes not 'till you ope your eye!" 
 
 Dear playmate of the birds and flowers! 
 
 My Georgia girl with face so fair, 
 These friends among thy garden bowers 
 
 With music fill and fragrance rare 
 Thy tender heart, and heavenly showers 
 
 Nurture truth embedded there. 
 
 Sweet Rose knows not the far-off town 
 Where fashion queens and show girls reign ; 
 
 Where Wealth and Want, with iron frown, 
 Alike mete out less joy than pain, 
 
 To dupes of pleasure clad in velvet gown, 
 To hungry, half starved slaves of gain. 
 
TONAE AND OTHEB POEMS 81 
 
 Yet say not that her life's obscure, 
 It opens to the vaulted sky. 
 
 God's out-of-doors her world secure, 
 In Virtue's fields her pathways lie 
 
 Thru pastures green, by waters pure, 
 And up the mountains reaching high. 
 
YONAH AND OTEEB POEM, 
 
 To Our Boys 
 
 IDLENESS, the devil's shop;' 
 "Ignorance, expensive crop"— 
 Sayings old and true. 
 Heed them, my boy, today, 
 Profit by them while you may ; 
 Listen to your conscience say, 
 "There's much for boys to do." 
 
 Ask the bum with bloated face 
 What his first step to disgrace — 
 
 Loafing on the street. 
 Others, went to school to learn, 
 Ambition in their souls did burn, 
 To him who dared his books to spurn 
 
 Idleness was sweet. 
 
 Learn to labor and to wait; 
 Trust in work, not in fate — 
 
 No such thing as lucky star. 
 By your acts you rise and fall; 
 Honor, Fame and Glory call; 
 But their portals close to all 
 
 You must push the gates ajar. 
 
YONAS AND OTHEB POEMS 
 
 Sic Transic 
 
 WHEN e'er I see a ranting cheat 
 Exult in tumult, noise, and 
 cheers, 
 I think of dust beneath his feet 
 Where mortal pride and vain conceit 
 Must rot a million years. 
 
84 TON AH AND OTHER POEM, 
 
 Worry 
 
 NEVER trouble trouble 
 'Til trouble troubles you." 
 It's not a very human, 
 But a proper thing to do, 
 For I hardly need to tell you — 
 I know you know the same — 
 The worst of all our troubles 
 Are the ones that never came. 
 
 What we oft mistake for trouble 
 
 Are those foxes of the mind — 
 Disdainful Dread, frantic Fear, 
 
 And Shame that skulks behind. 
 They eat our grapes of happiness, 
 
 And leave us but the skin 
 "With all the juicy sweet pressed out, 
 
 But bitter pulp left in 
 
 Now wouldn't it be wiser 
 
 To laugh these foxes 'way? 
 "With Faith and Hope a-ragging them, 
 
 The little beasts can't stay. 
 Then let's to work and smiling! 
 
 This old world's hard to beat; 
 ""With every rose we get a thorn, 
 
 But ain't the roses sweet?" 
 
YONAE AND OTHER POEMS 85 
 
 Soul Tonic 
 
 SORROW and work— the bitters of life- 
 Enrich and strengthen the soul; 
 Tho sweet slothful ease, with bloat-germs rife, 
 Is a morsel that many would roll. 
 
 God pity the man who never knew care, 
 Whose bosom ne 'er heaves a sigh ; 
 
 There's a strength, a charm, a feeling rare 
 That trouble alone can buy. 
 
YONAH AND OTHEE POEM, 
 
 A Tasty Pie 
 
 THOUGHTS, pure and clean; smiles, 
 bright and dear; 
 Mix them half and half. 
 In a quart of good cheer, warm and clear, 
 Stir them to a laugh. 
 
 The flower of love sift into this — 
 A bushel and a peck ; 
 
 Spice with the bliss of baby's kiss 
 And hug around the neck. 
 
 Add sweet, fresh milk, a gallon <,r 
 The "HUMAN KINDNESS" brand. 
 
 It's hard, I know, to need this dough, 
 But it makes the best pie in the land 
 
YONAE AND OTHEB POEMS 87 
 
 Humanity's Reply 
 
 COME, mothers of the world, to Belleau Wood 
 And to the dewy shades of dark Argonne ; — 
 Come view these mangled forms besmeared with, 
 blood — 
 Murdered grace and manhood's blighted dawn; 
 Is this yours, Madam, whose glaring, leaden eye 
 
 Late shone with love and hope? This golden hair 
 Is matted now with gore — was it to die 
 
 Thus butchered he played around your chair? 
 
 And look, sweet mother! see these pallid lips 
 
 Which to your own in babyhood oft clung — 
 Not rubies now ! The death-foam forms and drips 
 
 Where milk-beads from your tender breasts have 
 hung, 
 Here's one, his brains blown out! His heart pro- 
 trudes 
 
 Thru jagged broken ribs, his bowels all laid bare) 
 A mass of rotting flesh from which exudes 
 
 The putried blood— and stench befouls the air I 
 
YONAH AND OTHEB POEM, 
 
 Here's one — not one, but seven millions dead! 
 And who can count the maimed, the halt, the 
 blind? 
 Their crime? For what were these to slaughter led! 
 
 Come, monarchs of the world, an answer find. 
 A crime's been wrought, but where? by whom? and 
 when? 
 Oh, tell the mothers of the dead where lies the 
 guilt and wrong; 
 Divine rights of kings or human rights of men — • 
 At which of these doors does the charge belong? 
 
 What! silent all. Then hear humanity's reply; 
 " 'Gainst Emperor's madening dreams of world 
 
 empire 
 And secret plots of kings, and future selfish 
 
 wars, I 
 Led Columbia's hordes to save the world afire. 
 Five million sons she gave! Within my grateful 
 breast 
 The living and the deathless dead are one. 
 The dead have done their part ; to the living left the 
 rest 
 To save or lose the goal, although the battle's 
 ■ won. ' ' 
 
YONAE AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 The Source of Beauty 
 
 THE beauty of the landscape's not out there: 
 Within the soul it lies. 
 There would be no darkness anywhere 
 
 Were no dimness in the eyes. 
 The music of the spheres that roll — 
 
 The star is but the key; 
 The master touch comes from the soul 
 That wakes the melody. 
 
90 YONAH AND OTHEB FOE. 
 
 The Call of the South 
 
 FROM the sweet sunny South, the realm of ro- 
 mance, 
 A region renowned by story and song, 
 Where the hues of the rainbow tremblingly dance 
 On flower and fruit all the year long; 
 
 From the sweet, sunny South where cotton makes 
 white 
 
 The field once crimson with battle-shed gore, 
 And the blue-bird nestles with calm delight 
 
 In the mouth of the cannon, hushed evermore ; 
 
 From the sweet, sunny South where mansions arose 
 With Phoenix-like magic from ashes of war, 
 
 And Time has made friends of brothers, once foes, 
 And healed forever the national scar; 
 
 From the sweet sunny South, where factory smoke — 
 Proud banner of industry — floats on the air 
 
 O'er cities where once the dread war-cloud broke 
 And melted to ruins in battle's red glare; 
 
 From the sweet sunny South, God's favored clime, 
 Comes to the world a loud welcome call. 
 
 Joy-ringing bells, in musical chime, 
 
 Are telling of happiness found here for all. 
 
YON AS AND OTHER POEM S 91 
 
 Optimism 
 
 T 
 
 die in the trench two comrades fell 
 Said Pat to Mike, "This mud is hell.' 
 
 "Be-gord, ye are right," said Mike to Pat, 
 "But look at the stars, and forget about that." 
 
 Two souls went out from temples of clay 
 By the torch of the star's inspiring ray. 
 
 God save all such! for when came the hitch 
 The world was saved by the man in the ditch. 
 
92 YON AH AND OTHEB POEMS 
 
 Life's Current 
 
 LIFE is a stream. My little boat 
 Upon the flowing tide afloat, 
 Now bounces over laughing fall 
 Where siren voices to me call; 
 Now pauses where the eddies play 
 To spin around but not to stay. 
 I reach out for the golden sand ; 
 It dribbles, dribbles through my hand. 
 Flowers abloom along the shore 
 I bruise and crush with idle oar. 
 On, on I speed neath azure skies. 
 Where ever least resistance lies, 
 Adreaming, floating listlessly 
 With the current to the sea. 
 
TONAH AND OTHER TOE 
 
 Labor Vincit 
 
 A DREAM'S a dream- 
 Perhaps a freak, 
 A scheme's a scheme, 
 
 It may be weak. 
 A dream and scheme 
 
 Can nothing do, 
 TILL WORK AND WORK 
 HAS PROVED THEM TRUE. 
 
94 YON AH AND T E E E POEMS 
 
 To The Printer 
 
 I CHARGE thee, printer, print my lines 
 As I give them unto thee, 
 Tho caps and commas yon may think 
 Where they they hadn't onght to be. 
 
 I wrote as caption to my song, 
 
 "LINES TO A BOUNCING LASS." 
 
 The pesky printer got it wrong, 
 
 "LINES FROM A BLUNDERING ASS." 
 
 I quoted once, "What's writ is writ," 
 
 To cap a climax hot ; 
 The cussed typo printed it 
 
 to read, What's Writ is Hot. 
 
YON AH AND OTHEB POEMS 95 
 
 Coliutta Town 
 
 TO Cohutta town, Coliutta town 
 The mountain roads run up and down, 
 Churches, mill, stores and hall — 
 Two dozen homes, but that's not all; 
 A school there is, and to and fro 
 Thru mud-red roads the children go. 
 
 'Tis true, the meadows are as fair 
 
 Around Resaca — anywhere; 
 
 And at Varnelles and Tilton, too, 
 
 September sky's as soft a hue, 
 
 But at Cohutta to and fro 
 
 Thru dust-gray roads more children go. 
 
 At Cohutta town, it can be said, 
 The Past is buried with its dead; 
 The Present lives — her golden light 
 Is shining on each hearthstone bright; 
 The Future smiles when to and fro 
 Thru milk-white roads the children go. 
 
96 YONAE AND OTHEB POEMS 
 
 The Militant Suffragette 
 
 THERE are two classes of suffragettes; the one 
 a reasonable class demanding justice, the 
 other a class of wild beasts. 
 
 The screaming, disheveled, bomb-throwing wo- 
 man will never, pray God, be a permanent factor in 
 political life. She has already about had her day, 
 and is passing into utter contempt. ''Votes for 
 Women" is a worthy cause, but is not worth the 
 price if it involves the degredation of womanhood 
 and dethronement of her spiritual leadership. To 
 break the laws and become an intolerable nuisance, 
 is not the way to accomplish things, — certainly not 
 under a democracy. 
 
 It is comforting to see the dignified and far more 
 efficient mien of the womanly suffragette, who, with 
 more brains in her head than her de-natured mili- 
 tant sister, is winning converts to the cause. She 
 is accomplishing a woman's work in a woman's 
 way and does not outrage the two deepest and most 
 creditable instincts of man's breast; the respect in 
 which he holds women and the regard he has for 
 orderly procedure. These thoughtful women are 
 not objects for ridicule or satire. 
 
 The New Eve 
 
 FROM dust," God said, "let man arise 
 To rule the realm of Paradise." 
 Then Adam slept, and from his side 
 God took a rib to make his bride. 
 
 Man's had his day. He sleeps again; 
 This time the Devil takes his brain 
 To make some women that we see. 
 Man ain't the boss he used to be. 
 
YON AH AND OTHEB POEMS 
 
 The Sufferagettes 
 
 THE female of our species 
 Has the suffrage flag unfurled 
 She would cease to rock the cradle 
 But begins to rock the world. 
 
 She would set up her dominion 
 In a world without a pane; 
 
 She has struck on raising children, 
 And is bent on raising coin. 
 
 She says that men are grafters, 
 And the suffragettes must haste 
 
 With a regiment of corsets 
 To reduce the public waist. 
 
YONAH AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 What Next? 
 
 IT'S cooking stove, fireless; 
 Telegraph, wireless ; 
 Ships that sail in the air; 
 Cars running trackless; 
 Men floating backless — 
 Jellyfish everywhere. 
 Out in the street I chanced to meet 
 A pair of pants this morn ; 
 I ran agin 'em, 
 No man was in 'em — 
 A woman had 'em on. 
 
YON AH AND OTHER POEM 
 
 A Modern Product 
 
 IN ye olden time ye old maid aunts 
 Never panted for a pair of pants. 
 Demure at home they homely sat 
 Content with rocking chair and cat. 
 Saintly, prude and prim were they, 
 Alas! Alas! they've passed away! 
 The bachelor girl is everywhere 
 With mausculine voice and mannish air. 
 She pants for pants and cigarettes, 
 And rants and rants with suffragettes. 
 Ye Pilgrim shades and cavaliers! 
 Ye Plymouth maids and Jamestown dears! 
 Men with strong arms who could fight for your way, 
 And women as gentle as flowers of May! 
 The tables have turned since your race was run, 
 Now it's bachelor-maid and old-maid son. 
 "He sings to the world and she to the nest, 
 In the nice ear of Nature which song is best?" 
 When Lowell wrote these catchy words 
 He had in mind the women and birds 
 That God sent down from Eden's shade, 
 And not the goose the times have made. 
 'Mong all the fowls none of the rest 
 Would compel the male to sit on the nest, 
 And he would not, while his wife runs loose, 
 If he weren't himself a son of a goose. 
 
YON AH AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 Why? 
 
 YOU ask me why from men apart 
 To dusky grove I oft repair; 
 Think you 'tis empty mind and heart 
 
 That drives me, thoughtless, strolling there ? 
 You're right; for in the noisy crowd, 
 
 When duped by pleasure, slaved by gain, 
 I sordid grow, as weak as loud, 
 
 Nor thought nor feeling doth remain, 
 I leave the busy marts of trade 
 
 Where what I've lost found cannot be, 
 But comes unsought in woodland shade; 
 
 For there it ever seeketh me. 
 
YONAH AND OTHER TOE 
 
 101 
 
 Hope and Memory 
 
 ANTICIPATION forward points the view 
 And guilds with happiness; 
 Live right, and retrospection, too, 
 Shall charm thee none the less.