PS 3529 
 .S2 P5 
 
 1908 
 Copy 1 
 
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 Book S-^J^5Z 
 
 Copyright N" //^^f 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT; 
 
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 f::^n:^ii:'i. 
 
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 • :;«■'■' ^/'.'■'..'••/.//v.-'i 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 A West Coast Romance — The Green Diamond 
 Clothilde of Montmartre — The Hills of Gold 
 McLennan' s Little Girl — A Point of Honor 
 In the Gardens of the Dawn Flowers 
 Jean Paul — Limjpy, Bachelor of Love 
 The Stress of Impulse — ''Slivers" 
 The FitzGerald of BaUyowen, etc. 
 
PIPE 
 
 DREAMS 
 
 A. 
 
 BY 
 
 VAGRANT 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 GEO. H. ELLIS CO., PUBLISHERS 
 
 1908 
 
\ wo OOPIM rt«;Mv«i« 
 
 JUL 3i lyub 
 
 CLASSi ^ AXC< No. 
 COPY B. 
 
 I"! 
 
 .f 
 
 Copyright, 1908, 
 By Geo. H. Ellis Co. 
 
 PRESS OF GEO. H. ELLIS CO., BOSTON, MASS 
 
To those indulgent readers who have professed to 
 
 find these random verses not wholly lacking that 
 
 " touch of nature that makes the whole icorld kin" 
 
 this book is gratefully dedicated 
 
APOLOGY 
 
 CFor any lack of literary exactitude, for limping rhythm 
 and faulty metre, the writer of these verses begs indul- 
 gence. They were for the most fart horn of the mood 
 of a moment, in the inky atmosphere of a press-room, 
 and set to paper between whiles of assignments. If they 
 touch, however gently, the vibrant chord of memory, if 
 they bring a smile to weary lips, if they draw one lonely 
 soul for a brief half-hour nearer to its fellows, their 
 purpose will have been accomplished. Since most of the 
 poems now gathered here together have in past years 
 taken their message (if indeed they bear one) to lonely 
 mining camps and smoky foc's'les and farm firesides o' 
 winter evenings, the writer has not deemed it wise to 
 ''polish^' them, — indeed, he has not had the heart to. 
 With all their imperfections, — which are many, — with 
 their excellences, alas! too feiv, he sets them forth 
 again on a fresh voyage, hoping they may reach some 
 friendly haven. 
 
 Maitland LeRoy Osborne. 
 
 Everett, IVIass., June, 1908. 
 
ACKNOWLEDGMENT 
 
 C To the editors of the jollowing papers and magazines 
 I ivish to make grateful acknowledgment for their kind 
 permission to republish most of the poems gathered 
 together in these pages: ''The Bohemian J' ^' The Brown 
 Book,'' ''The National Magazine,'' '' Modern Women," 
 ''Every Other Sunday," Boston; ''The Iron Trail," 
 Minneapolis; "The Sun," New York; ''Wayside 
 Tales" Chicago. m. l. o. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 r 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Only a Pipe 1 
 
 In the Fall 2 
 
 Since You ivere Just a Little Girl 8 
 
 ''Taps!" 5 
 
 With Love and You in the Latin Quarter 7 
 
 Lullaby 9 
 
 My Old Briar Pipe and I . . . 10 
 
 Bobby's Christmas Present 12 
 
 Shadows on the Wall 13 
 
 Fni Sorry, Dear! 14 
 
 The Nation's Dead 15 
 
 When Love ivas Young 16 
 
 Where the Farm-house Stood 17 
 
 Christmas Bells 19 
 
 When the Ice is out of Rangeley 21 
 
 At the Pasture Bars 23 
 
 The Maid ivho Waits for Me 24 
 
 Firelight Fancies 25 
 
 The Age-long Plaint 26 
 
 The Iron Trail 27 
 
 Daphne 28 
 
 While Madge and I are Swinging 29 
 
 The Unknown Land 30 
 
 The VetercLn's Call to Arms 31 
 
 En Passant! 32 
 
 Mother Earth 33 
 
 Tale of the Ancient Mariner 34 
 
 Triolet 37 
 
 That Summer Long Ago 38 
 
 Frisco's Prayer 40 
 
 The Patriot 41 
 
 Whut's de Use? 42 
 
 In the Time of the Harvest Moon 43 
 
 The Same Old Season 44 
 
 [ix] 
 
iflpt^t^Pl PEP R E A n S Cglt3C?Jtiti 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Batistes Beeg Feesh 46 
 
 Recompense ^ 47 
 
 Coy Fame 48 
 
 Ruth 49 
 
 The Point of View 50 
 
 The Men of Fortij-Mile 52 
 
 Mollie Dear 53 
 
 Quatrain 54 
 
 The Master Power 55 
 
 Neiv England's Hills 56 
 
 O Washinee 58 
 
 '"'Vanity of Vanities'" 60 
 
 The Waves Along the Shore 61 
 
 Protest 63 
 
 The Chiefest Gift 64 
 
 On the Old Barn Door 65 
 
 Let's Go A-flshing 67 
 
 The Girls We've Loved 69 
 
 Valentine 71 
 
 [-■<] 
 
PIPE DREAMS 
 
ONLY A PIPE 
 
 NLY a pipe! I can hear you say; 
 Yet this bit of battered, blackened clay 
 Has shared my sorrows for many a day, 
 And joys, as well. 
 
 Only a pipe ! Blackened and old. 
 Yet I can laugh at lack of gold. 
 At unkind Fate, at friends grown cold — 
 Under its spell. 
 
 Only a pipe! Had I red wine 
 To warm my heart, and raiment fine, 
 Would I forsake this pipe of mine ? 
 I cannot tell. 
 
 Only a pipe! There are loftier things 
 To love — like gold, that oft grows wings, 
 And gives not peace, which my pipe brings — 
 I love thee well. 
 
 [1] 
 
Ct][t3[t3Ct3[t] PIPE DREAMS it^lV^Pt^ 
 
 IN THE FALL 
 
 You can hear the partridge drumming 
 
 In the Fall; 
 And the wild bees' drowsy humming 
 
 In the Fall; 
 Then Jack Frost, with elfin touches 
 Of his magic hues and brushes, 
 Will suffuse the leaves with blushes 
 
 In the Fall. 
 
 The stars shine brighter, clearer. 
 
 In the Fall; 
 As the Ice King's reign draws nearer, 
 
 In the Fall. 
 Then will come the kitchen dances, 
 Where for kisses there'll be chances: 
 'Round some girl you'll weave sweet fancies 
 
 In the Fall. 
 
 The grain hangs ripe for shocking 
 
 In the Fall; 
 You can see the wild geese flocking 
 
 In the Fall. 
 Then the evenings will grow longer. 
 And the old folks will be fonder 
 Of the cosey kitchen corner. 
 
 In the Fall. 
 [2] 
 
Ct][t][t3[t3Ct3 PIPE DREAMS im^mn^ 
 
 SINCE YOU WERE JUST A 
 LITTLE GIRL 
 
 When you were just a little girl, 
 
 And I a boy — a boy, 
 The world was such a wondrous place! 
 
 So full of joy — of joy, 
 That we could scarcely spare the time 
 
 From play to sleep and eat. 
 And chattered like two magpies then 
 
 Whene'er we chanced to meet. 
 
 The blithesome years danced lightly by, 
 
 And you — a maiden fair — 
 'Mid rose-hued dreams of romance moved 
 
 And had your being there. 
 Each winged year had brought to me 
 
 Its evanescent joy. 
 But left me still, alas the while! 
 
 Left me an awkward boy. 
 
 Still Time's dread finger beckoned us 
 Where Life's broad river ran. 
 
 Till you were grown a woman, dear, 
 And I a man — a man. 
 
 And stood at last within the door 
 [3] 
 
[t3CTOcTO PIPE DREAMS C^DC^XgxTO 
 
 That bears the scroll above: 
 "Who enters here walks hand in hand 
 With Faith and Hope and Love." 
 
 The sunset shadows gather o'er 
 
 The pathway we have trod: 
 Oft-times the way was strewn with stones, 
 
 Oft-times 'twas velvet sod; 
 And yet we've gleaned, dear heart, our share 
 
 Of Life and Love and Joy 
 Since you were just a little girl 
 
 And I a boy — a boy. 
 
 [^] 
 
CgJtltXgi:^ PIPE DREAMS cMx^CgJt] 
 
 "TAPS!" 
 
 They are marching with a halting step,— 
 
 A halting step and slow ; 
 And many in those blue-clad ranks 
 
 Have hair as white as snow: 
 Their youth lies on the battlefields 
 
 Of forty years ago. 
 
 The faded, tattered flags they bear, 
 All torn by shot and shell, 
 
 Are sacred emblems of the dead 
 Who loved their country well: 
 
 How great their love and sacrifice 
 No human tongue may tell. 
 
 Those serried ranks are thinning fast 
 That once with martial tread 
 
 The knapsack and the musket bore 
 Where Grant and Sherman led: 
 
 Their sleep is sound and peaceful 
 In the bivouac of the dead. 
 
 No more the reveille at dawn 
 
 Shall rouse them from their sleep, 
 No more shall wives and sisters mourn. 
 
 No more shall mothers weep: 
 
 [5] , 
 
CtXgXgXgXg3PIPE PRE AnSCg3C!x!lM3 
 
 Their names upon the roll of Fame 
 Time's hand has graven deep. 
 
 And some lie on those hard-fought fields 
 Where now the Blue and Gray 
 
 Clasp hands across the battle lines 
 Their blood has washed away : 
 
 Where once the tide of battle flowed, 
 Their children's children play. 
 
 The passing years speed swiftly, 
 
 x\nd silence round them wraps; 
 
 And to their listening ears there comes 
 No sweeter song, perhaps, 
 
 Than when the battered bugle sounds 
 Again the old call,— ''Taps!" 
 
 [6] 
 
CTOC!3C^^ PIPE DREAMS [t^C^C^CtjCt] 
 
 WITH LOVE AND YOU IN THE 
 LATIN QUARTER 
 
 I dream to-night of the olden days — 
 
 Those golden days in the Latin Quarter — 
 
 When Love was guide in the pleasant ways 
 Where strayed our feet in the Latin 
 Quarter. 
 
 You were the model, young and gay, 
 
 Who posed for me in the Latin Quarter, 
 
 And taught me love in the olden way 
 
 That lovers love in the Latin Quarter. 
 
 Your pictured face on the canvas grew 
 
 Beneath my brush in the Latin Quarter, 
 
 While in my heart my love for you 
 
 Grew fairer still in the Latin Quarter. 
 
 The purse we shared was thin and lean. 
 
 And meals were scant in the Latin Quarter : 
 
 The clothes we wore were old and mean — 
 But what cared we in the Latin Quarter! 
 
 For love was ours, and a sweet content 
 
 With life had we in the Latin Quarter; 
 
 And when we fasted to pay the rent 
 
 'Twas but a jest in the Latin Quarter. 
 
 L7,] 
 
Itlppt^ PIPE DREAMS CTOc^3Cgi:^ 
 
 The parting came, as the parting must, 
 
 To those who love in the Latin Quarter: 
 
 I left you there, as lovers must 
 
 Leave those they love in the Latin Quarter. 
 
 But, dreaming now of those olden days — 
 
 Those golden days in the Latin Quarter — 
 
 When Love was guide in the pleasant ways 
 Where strayed our feet in the Latin Quar- 
 ter, 
 
 I can't believe — as some might hold — 
 
 That our love was wrong in the Latin 
 Quarter : 
 
 Young hearts will love till the world grows old, 
 And love was sweet in the Latin Quarter. 
 
 [8] 
 
Jt^[pV(t^lt\ PIPE DREAMS Ipt^^M^t^ 
 
 LULLABY 
 
 Sleepy eyes are winking, winking; 
 One by one the stars are blinking; 
 Now 'tis time, mamma is thinking, 
 Baby Blue should be in bed. 
 
 Rosebud mouth is yawning, yawning; 
 Lest she oversleep the dawning. 
 Comes the sandman with the warning 
 "Baby Blue should be in bed!" 
 
 Tiny fingers clutching, clutching, 
 Mamma's loving lips are touching — 
 At her tender heart-strings clutching: 
 Baby Blue must go to bed. 
 
 Mamma's voice is crooning, crooning, 
 O'er her baby in the glooming, — 
 Tender lullabies she's crooning: 
 Baby Blue has gone to bed. 
 
 [9] 
 
Ipt^!t^lt^?\ PE DREAMS rf^M^t^ 
 
 MY OLD BRIAR PIPE AND I 
 
 We loaf along the woodland way, 
 
 My old briar pipe and I, 
 Past meadows sweet with new-mown hay 
 
 And billowing fields of rye. 
 
 We seek a moss-grown, shady nook, 
 
 My old briar pipe and I, 
 Where babbling o'er the stones the brook 
 
 Goes glinting swiftly by. 
 
 Like choice bouquet of rare old wines. 
 
 My old briar pipe and I 
 Breathe in the fragrance of the pines 
 
 Beneath the summer sky; 
 
 And, while the curling smoke ascends. 
 
 My old briar pipe and I 
 Quaff deep the joy contentment lends, 
 
 And let the world go by. 
 
 The sylvan dramas of the woods delight 
 My old briar pipe and I : 
 
 We watch the robin, gay bedight. 
 And shy brown mate steal nigh. 
 
 [10] 
 
j:fjr^tn^^ PIPE DREAMS CTOcpc^ 
 
 Their nest swings low in yonder beech : 
 
 My old briar pipe and I 
 Sit very still, and watch them teach 
 
 Their nestlings how to fly. 
 
 The musquash on the sedgy bank 
 
 My old briar pipe and I 
 (While lunching on the sweet -flags rank) 
 
 Oft scans with doubting eye. 
 
 A squirrel chatters from a limb : 
 
 My old briar pipe and I 
 Would fain become firm friends with him 
 
 If he were not so shy. 
 
 The woodland way is cool and dim: 
 
 My old briar pipe and I 
 Give grateful praise and thanks to Him 
 
 Who paints the summer sky. 
 
 [11] 
 
CtiftiCtjCTO P I P E PRE AMS[t3C^C!lt]C^ 
 
 BOBBY'S CHRISTMAS PRESENT 
 
 Say ! I've got a present up to my house 
 Santa didn't bring for me; 
 
 Mamma says she thinks th' angels 
 Left it on my Chris 'mas tree. 
 
 Mamma calls it "little sister," 
 
 An' she hugged me awful tight 
 
 While I said my prayers, an' kissed me 
 'Most a hundred times last night. 
 
 Little sister's awful funny, 
 
 She don't care a mite for toys ; 
 
 Guess she wants to sleep, for Nurse says, 
 "Now you mustn't make a noise!" 
 
 An' say! I'm dreadful lonesome: 
 Mamma used to play with me; 
 
 But she don't since little sister 
 
 Came upon my Chris'mas tree. 
 
 [12] 
 
rptlflflf} PIPE DREAMS C!3Cg3Cg3C!Jt] 
 
 SHADOWS ON THE WALL 
 
 W^hen o'er the hills and woods and streams 
 
 the shades of evening fall, 
 The dancing flames within the grate throw 
 
 shadows on the wall ; 
 And pictured there we see the past — gone now 
 
 beyond recall — 
 In the mystic, magic limning of the shadows 
 
 on the wall. 
 
 Merry years and sad years, dreary years and 
 glad. 
 
 Trooping past, remind us of the joys we may 
 have had; 
 
 Joy times and sorrow times, love and friend- 
 ship rare, — 
 
 Memories sweet and tender of the sorrows we 
 must bear. 
 
 Baby feet come pattering — careful, lest you 
 fall! 
 
 Baby laughter sweetly rings adown the dark- 
 ening hall. 
 
 Baby voices silent, breaking heart and all, 
 
 Are pictured there before us in the shadows 
 on the wall. 
 
 [13] 
 
C!3C^C^C^ PIPE DREAMS CgXgltiM^ 
 
 Dark days and bright days, gladsome days and 
 
 drear, — 
 Days that brought the parting from the ones 
 
 we held most dear; 
 Sunshine and sorrow — dreaming of the past 
 Brings to mind sweet memories of the joys 
 
 that do not last. 
 
 I'M SORRY, DEAR! 
 
 If, in the cares of every day. 
 My thoughts from you have seemed to stray. 
 And I have failed in word or deed 
 Perchance to show the constant need 
 
 I have of you; 
 If I have caused a tear to start, 
 If I have bruised your loving heart, — 
 
 I'm sorry, dear! 
 
 [14] 
 
r:^[t]Cg3Cg3C^ PIPE DREAMS Ipflpt^ 
 
 THE NATION'S DEAD 
 
 ** Where lie the dead, Sentry?" 
 
 "They lie yonder on the hill: 
 The stars look down upon their rest, 
 
 The night wind groweth chill; 
 
 But the flag that led them proudly waves, 
 
 For brave men follow still." 
 
 "How fell the dead. Sentry?" 
 
 "They fell fighting for the right: 
 
 They followed at the heels of Death, 
 Nor looked to left or right; 
 And their country's grateful memory 
 Shall keep their honor bright." 
 
 "How lie the dead. Sentry?" 
 
 "The dead lie very still: 
 The moon shines soft and tender 
 
 O'er their graves upon the hill, 
 
 While lone mothers weep in silence, 
 
 As mothers ever will." 
 
 "How sleep the dead. Sentry?" 
 "The dead sleep very sound: 
 
 The graves upheaved on yonder hill 
 Have made it hallowed ground, 
 And on the lips of unborn time 
 The heroes' names shall sound." 
 
 [15] 
 
rpt^M^it^ PIPE D R EAriS^^^rt3Ct3 
 
 WHEN LOVE WAS YOUNG 
 
 She sang a song of the olden time 
 
 When Love was young and the world was 
 fair, 
 And the moonbeams shone with a silver sheen 
 On the rose that glowed in my true love's 
 hair. 
 
 I dreamt, 'neath the spell of the fresh young 
 voice. 
 That my heart was as blithe as in days of 
 yore, 
 That the scent of the rose in the air hung 
 sweet 
 While I walked by my true love's side 
 once more. 
 
 The singer paused, and my dream had fled: 
 The rose long since on the hearth was 
 flung. 
 The moon has waned; but my heart still 
 glows, 
 For Love, sweet Love, must be always 
 young. 
 
 [16] 
 
[t]cg][ti[t3cg3 PIPE DREAMS Cticg^C^cgit] 
 
 WHERE THE FARM-HOUSE STOOD 
 
 When I'm feeling old and weary, 
 And the world seems sad and dreary, 
 And the sun shines not as brightly as it 
 should. 
 Then my thoughts will often roam 
 To my boyhood's happy home. 
 
 And recall loved scenes of childhood 
 Where the farm-house stood. 
 
 I hear the rumbling mill. 
 Nestling low behind the hill. 
 By the river in the shelter of the wood; 
 And see the shady lane. 
 Winding past the fields of grain. 
 
 And the sweet wild roses blooming 
 Where the farm-house stood. 
 
 There's the gnarled old apple-tree: 
 How the flavor comes to me 
 Of the golden russet apples that always tasted 
 good! 
 And the flag-root still must grow 
 In the meadow wet and low, 
 
 As when I played in childhood 
 Where the farm-house stood. 
 [17] 
 
CgXglM3[t3 PIPE DREAMS CglCgXtjc^ 
 
 There's the school-house, painted red, 
 Where the master — ^long since dead — 
 Taught us the love of learning and of good; 
 And the little old white church. 
 In the shadow of the birch, 
 
 Whose Sabbath summons reached us 
 Where the farm-house stood. 
 
 In the quiet churchyard lies — 
 'Neath the kindly summer skies — 
 The sweetheart of my childhood, so gentle, 
 
 sweet, and good; 
 Though she's slept so many years, 
 I can scarce keep back the tears 
 
 When her spirit seems to greet me 
 Where the farm-house stood. 
 
 When Death closes Memory's door. 
 And my weary work is o'er, 
 I'd like to rest beside her in the churchyard 
 near the wood: 
 When the angels' harps shall ring 
 And the hosts of heaven sing. 
 
 Hand in hand once more we'll 
 wander 
 Where the farm-house stood. 
 
 [18] 
 
p^_o— p^q^-,o^p,Q^ 
 
 [MlM3[t3PIPE PRE ANScy3C^JV3Cr3[Y3 
 
 CHRISTMAS BELLS 
 
 Far away, like fairy bugles, sound the joyful 
 
 Christmas chimes, 
 And the night wind, hushed, expectant, bears 
 
 the tale of ancient times, — 
 Bears the legend of the manger, and the old 
 
 sweet story tells 
 In the softly swelling murmur of the distant 
 
 Christmas bells. 
 
 Now the rhythmic throb of organ, with its 
 
 diapason vast. 
 Joins the chorus of the church bells with their 
 
 message from the past, 
 Till the very air is vibrant, as the sacred 
 
 music swells 
 With the glad triumphant psean of the joyful 
 
 Christmas bells. 
 
 Far at sea the sailors wonder, as the stars 
 gaze down on them. 
 
 If 'twas one among that number hovered over 
 Bethlehem; 
 
 But in vain they hark and listen for the mes- 
 sage of the bells, — 
 
 For the sweet and solemn message of the dis- 
 tant Christmas bells. 
 [19] 
 
Ipt^t^M^ PIPE DREAMS Cg3Cg3[t][txg3 
 
 The cow-boy's lonely vigil on the vast and 
 silent plain 
 
 Gains a new and solemn meaning as the Star 
 shines out again, 
 
 And he bares his head to listen for an echo of 
 the bells, — 
 
 For an echo of the music of the joyful Christ- 
 mas bells. 
 
 And the weary, toiling miner, in the darkness 
 
 under ground, 
 Leans upon his pick to listen for a whisper of 
 
 the sound, — 
 For the night wind's solemn message when 
 
 the waiting world it tells 
 The story of the Christ Child in the joyful 
 
 Christmas bells. 
 
 From the palace with its pleasure, from the 
 
 hovel with its pain. 
 Sounds anew the Psalm of Ages, — men are 
 
 brothers once again; 
 Children's voices swell the chorale, all the 
 
 world is joyful then. 
 While the bells peal out their greeting, "Peace 
 
 on earth! Good will to men!" 
 
 [20] 
 
mmjt^ PIPE DREAMS itnn^^tw 
 
 WHEN THE ICE IS OUT OF 
 RANGELEY 
 
 When "the ice is out of Rangeley," 
 
 How our hearts begin to leap, 
 As the waters stretch and waken 
 
 From their ice-bound winter's sleep! 
 And we dream of speckled beauties 
 
 Waiting, hungry for our lure, 
 And the swing of six-ounce trout rods 
 
 With a steady hand and sure. 
 
 Then our fingers feel the paddle. 
 And our faces feel the sun. 
 
 And our pulses beat the measure 
 
 When we "meet them on the run." 
 
 Oh, "the ice is out of Rangeley!" 
 
 Flash the message far and wide! 
 Time to gather at the killing 
 
 With canoe and rod and guide, 
 Time to drop all care and hasten 
 
 By the swiftest train, and sure, 
 Where the hungry trout are waiting 
 
 For our never-failing lure. 
 [21] 
 
Cglt3[tlM3 PIPE DREAMS [ticTOcTO 
 
 When ''the ice is out of Rangeley," 
 
 There's a meaning then to life, 
 And a call to drop dull business 
 
 And desert our home and wife; 
 For there's weighty matters waiting, 
 
 And the time is then at hand 
 For the fishing clan to gather 
 
 In the chosen Promised Land. 
 
 Oh, "the ice is out of Rangeley!" 
 
 And the market can go hang! 
 For the swishing silken trout line sings 
 
 As sirens never sang; 
 And the ripple of the paddle 
 
 Shines like silver in our wake 
 When the moon comes up to guide us 
 
 To our camp across the lake. 
 
 [22] 
 
[fjtlfJtl^ PIPE DREAMS Cg3C^Qpqp 
 
 AT THE PASTURE BARS 
 
 " Coo, boss ! Coo, boss ! " Hark to the milk- 
 maid calling! 
 "Coo, boss! Coo, boss!" The evening shades 
 are falling. 
 "Come, Spot! come, Mollie! come, Su- 
 
 key! come, Bess! 
 Come, lazy ones! How can I milk you 
 unless 
 You come to the pasture bars?" 
 
 "Coo, boss! Coo, boss!" The birds their 
 
 vespers sing. 
 "Coo, boss! Coo, boss!" The swallows home- 
 ward w^ng. 
 And, loitering past the fields of grain. 
 The cows adown the winding lane 
 Come to the pasture bars. 
 
 "Coo, boss! Coo, boss!" Mounts the ca- 
 dence of that call. 
 " Coo, boss ! Coo, boss ! " The rhythmic rise 
 and fall 
 Of the milkmaid's voice is a siren song 
 That lures my steps, like the cows', along 
 The path to the pasture bars. 
 
 [23] 
 
Ctitit3[M3PIPE D RE AMSCtit3C?3[tit] 
 
 THE MAID WHO WAITS FOR ME 
 
 A little brown maid in a sunlit land, 
 
 By the shore of a sunlit sea, 
 'Neath the waving palms, by the wave-lapped 
 strand, 
 
 Watches and waits for me. 
 
 The tropic moon, as it sails above 
 That land by the murm'ring sea. 
 
 Is a beacon light to my own true love 
 And the maid who waits for me. 
 
 And the summer breeze, like a voice that 
 charms. 
 
 Lures me o'er the sleeping sea 
 To that far-off shore and the longing arms 
 
 Of the maid who waits for me. 
 
 [24] 
 
C^Cg3Cg3[t][t3 PIPE DREAMS CglC^rtlCgXg] 
 
 FIRELIGHT FANCIES 
 
 While the flickering firelight dances on my 
 lonely hearth to-night 
 
 Comes a flood of memory-fancies, setting care 
 and pain to flight, 
 
 And I dream with tender musing of my boy- 
 hood on the farm, — 
 
 Of that rainbow-hued and joyous time of 
 childhood on the farm. 
 
 Now the shining eyes of loved ones smile back 
 at me from the flames, 
 
 While the echo of their laughter wakens mem- 
 ories of the games 
 
 That we played in happy childhood, as we 
 roamed about the farm, — 
 
 In that distance-dimmed and joyous time of 
 childhood on the farm. 
 
 And the air seems heavy-laden with the scented 
 breath of flowers 
 
 Growing wild upon the hillside where I 
 dreamed away the hours 
 
 Of the drowsy, happy summers of my boyhood 
 on the farm, — 
 
 In that Heaven-sent and peaceful time of child- 
 hood on the farm. 
 
 [25] 
 
[titXgX^C^PI PE D RE AH S[M3CTOCg3 
 
 THE AGE-LONG PLAINT 
 
 The deeds we would, but have not done, 
 The words we have not said, 
 
 The loves we craved and were denied, 
 The hopes now cold and dead; 
 
 The pictures we could never paint, 
 
 The songs that died unsung. 
 The books we would, but could not write, — 
 Life's vibrant harp unstrung; 
 
 The glowing thoughts that fired our brain ; 
 
 Ambition, pride, and all, — 
 Like lilies on their slender stems. 
 
 That flourish but to fall. 
 
 Fond hopes of youth and sober age 
 
 That dwindled to decay, 
 The ashes of a rose-hued past 
 
 That Fate has blown awav ! 
 
 [26] 
 
Ct3[t3Cgjti:^ P I P E PRE AnSCg3C^3CgXgX!3 
 
 THE IRON TRAIL 
 
 Over rivers, under mountains, 
 
 From the ocean to the plains. 
 
 Stretch the shining bands of iron. 
 Sounds the rushing of the trains. 
 
 We have staked the bounds of empire. 
 We have blazed the iron trail. 
 
 We have linked the golden future 
 With the spiking of a rail. 
 
 We have toiled and we have hungered. 
 We have fought with man and beast. 
 
 And we bring a golden harvest 
 To the markets of the East. 
 
 We have bound the States together 
 With a bond that never'll fail, — 
 
 Set the pulse of trade to throbbing 
 All along the iron trail. 
 
 [27] 
 
[t3C!3C^Ct3C?3 PIPE DREAMS it^lt^pt^ 
 
 DAPHNE 
 
 I have seen the sunrise breaking on the shores 
 
 of distant seas, 
 I have seen the mists of evening creeping 
 
 slow across the leas 
 To the borderland of twilight when the birds 
 
 were winging home, 
 And the air was filled with sweetness from 
 
 the newly furrowed loam; 
 But the wondrous tints of evening and the 
 
 glory of the skies 
 Cannot move my soul to gladness like a smile 
 
 from Daphne's eyes. 
 
 I have heard the chimes of church bells faintly 
 
 echoing on the breeze, 
 I have heard the south wind sighing soft 
 
 and low among the trees 
 When the moon had bathed the hill-tops in a 
 
 weird and magic glow, 
 And her wake was traced in silver on the river 
 
 far below; 
 But the sweetest strains of music cannot 
 
 make my heart rejoice 
 Like the love-notes, low and tender, that I 
 
 hear in Daphne's voice. 
 [28] 
 
:pt^lt^ PIPE D REAMS CM^C^^COT 
 
 WHILE MADGE AND I ARE 
 SWINGING 
 
 The sunlight glimmers through the vine 
 That round the oak is clinging, 
 
 And wild-flowers nod their heads at us 
 While Madge and I are swinging. 
 
 The apple-trees are white with bloom, 
 Soft winds their sweet scent bringing 
 
 To where the squirrels fearless play 
 While Madge and I are swinging. 
 
 The fleecy clouds go sailing by, 
 
 The birds with joy are singing. 
 
 And all the world is glad with us 
 
 When Madge and I are swinging. 
 
 [29] 
 
CgXtitiMiPI PE D RE AnSCtit3cglM3 
 
 THE UNKNOWN LAND 
 
 There's a maiden fair, with wondrous hair, 
 Who waits with a smile for me, 
 Where the sunbeams gleam like a golden 
 stream 
 
 On the shores of the perfumed sea. 
 
 From the clover bloom the wild bee sips. 
 And the drooping willows with trembling 
 
 tips 
 Touch eager leaves to the water's lips; 
 
 And there's never a cloud in the sky. 
 
 And never a frow^n, and never a sigh, 
 In the beautiful Unknown Land. 
 
 In the beautiful Unknown Land, 
 Where the streamlets glide 
 Through the meadows wide 
 
 With a love-song soft and low, 
 
 A maiden fair waits to greet me there 
 
 In the sunset's golden glow. 
 
 [30] 
 
(t^lt^rflp^ PIPE DREAMS ^m^^t^ 
 
 THE VETERAN'S CALL TO ARMS 
 
 Shine up the dear old bugle 
 
 That's been silent for so long, 
 
 And again we'll tread the measure ' 
 Of our old-time battle song: 
 
 The vanished years have cooled our blood 
 Since Sherman led the throng, 
 
 But our hearts are still as loyal to Old Glory. 
 
 Take down the battered musket 
 From its hooks upon the wall, 
 
 And the old canteen and knapsack, 
 Bayonet, cartridge-box, and all; 
 
 Patch up the faded suit of blue 
 
 That we donned at Old Abe's call. 
 
 And "fall in" to guard the honor of Old Glory. 
 
 Unfurl the tattered battle-flag 
 
 Whose hues have duller grown 
 
 Since the glory of its presence 
 
 Hallowed graves that War had sown. 
 
 As of old, our souls are quickened 
 
 When the need for men is known, 
 
 And we're ready still to battle for Old Glory. 
 
 [31] 
 
(Vcpt^t^ PIPE DREAMS C!3[t3CgXgJ^ 
 
 EN PASSANT! 
 
 Clarice, thou slender maid and sweet, 
 
 Behold me prostrate at thy feet! 
 For' me existence were divine, 
 Might I claim your dear hand for mine! 
 
 Helen holds my heart in thrall, 
 
 So fair is she, — divinely tall; 
 
 Her every move instinct with grace 
 Bespeaks the pride of name and race. 
 
 Fair Alice, with her dreamy eyes 
 And hair the hue of midnight skies 
 
 And lips to tempt a monk's desires, 
 With dreams of bliss my soul inspires. 
 
 Mignon, with tender eyes of blue. 
 Compels my passion warm and true. 
 Her hair is like a fairy dell 
 Where glinting sunbeams love to dwell. 
 
 And thou, my queenly Claribel, 
 O haughty maid! I love thee well: 
 To thee responds my ardent soul 
 As turns the magnet to the pole. 
 
 [32] 
 
'ipt^rr^if} PIPE DREAMS [t]Cg3Ct]cg3C^ 
 
 A score of others I might name 
 
 With whom I've played Love's old sweet game, 
 And often thought I loved one best, 
 But found, alas! I loved the rest. 
 
 MOTHER EARTH 
 
 Earth mothers the spawn of a seething brood. 
 
 Restless, dominant, wild! 
 Sends Man forth in the pride of life. 
 
 Calls him her best -loved child ; 
 Gives him to play with the toys of power; 
 Amuses him thus for a fleeting hour; 
 
 Patiently waits till the play is past; 
 
 Gathers him back to her breast at last, 
 Brooding old Mother Earth! 
 
 [33] 
 
[t][f3[t][t3[t3PlPE PRE AnSCgJM3C!l$3 
 
 THE TALE OF THE ANCIENT 
 MARINER 
 
 I strolled one day in a careless way 
 Where the ships sail out to sea, 
 And a sailor old, with a manner bold. 
 Cast a glowering glance on me. 
 
 "Good sailor man, you doubtless can," 
 Said I, "spin a yarn to me 
 That reeks with gore, — of the days of yore. 
 When pirates scoured the sea." 
 
 " Yo, ho!" he cried, and the green waves eyed. 
 "Shipmate, take a seat by me. 
 And listen well to the tale I tell, — 
 A terrible tale of the sea. 
 
 " Your heart will thrill and your blood will chill 
 And your flesh will creep," said he, 
 "When the tale you're told of the pirate bold, 
 Which the same it was told to me: 
 
 "The pirate trod his bloody deck — 
 His bloody deck trod he; 
 And he cast an eye at the rolling waves, — 
 At the rolling waves looked he; 
 
 [34] 
 
Ct3[t]Cg]Ct][ri PIPE DREAMS Cg3[t3[tiM3 
 
 "And he says, says he, 'Fetch yonder maid — 
 Fetch yonder maid to me. 
 And let her choose 'tween the sea and me — 
 'Tween me and the sea,' says he. 
 
 "'For long I've loved that haughty maid — 
 I've loved her long,' says he : 
 'Unless she'll marry me now, I swear 
 I'll throw her into the sea.' 
 
 "The maid gazed long at the pirate bold. 
 And she gazed at the heaving sea; 
 She gazed at the crew and the clouds so blue, 
 And 'I guess it is up to me,' 
 
 "She said with a sigh and a downcast eye, 
 'To marry you now,' says she. 
 The pirate called for his parson bold — 
 For his parson bold called he, 
 
 "And the parson married them then and there 
 As tight as tight could be. 
 But the pirate found, ere a year had fled — 
 Ere a year had fled found he 
 
 "That the maid was more than a match for 
 
 him — 
 More than a match was she. 
 
 [35] 
 
lp[pptlf} PIPE DREAMS rMimi^ 
 
 * 'Od's blood ! ' he groaned, with horrid oaths — 
 With horrid oaths groaned he, 
 
 "*Is there never a spot in the whole wide 
 
 world — 
 Is there never a spot on the sea, 
 Where I may look for a moment's peace — 
 For a moment's peace ? ' groaned he. 
 
 "*When Bloody Mike and One-eared Ike 
 
 And a dozen more and me 
 
 Raised chests of gold from the Spaniard's 
 
 hold— 
 From the Spaniard's hold,' says he, 
 
 "'And hung the crew and the captain, too. 
 In a manner bold and free, 
 I little knew, as the wild winds blew. 
 The trouble in store for me. 
 
 *"A hundred men have walked the plank — 
 Have walked the plank,' says he, 
 
 * Or danced on air with a glassy stare 
 To furnish sport for me. 
 
 "'The blood I've spilled and the men I've 
 
 killed 
 Were a terrible sight to see, 
 
 [36] 
 
Ctltlt3C^PIPE PRE AnSC!3C^lt3[M3 
 
 But my nerves are steel and I never feel 
 The slightest regret/ says he. 
 
 "*But now, alas! there has come to pass, 
 A grievous curse on me : 
 I rule my band with an iron hand, 
 But a womaris tongue rules me!''* 
 
 TRIOLET 
 
 Accept this pledge, my lady fair 
 Of my unending love for thee. 
 
 Though with thy face 'twill not compare. 
 
 Accept this pledge, my lady fair. 
 
 I pray thee wear it in thy hair 
 In token of my love for thee. 
 
 Accept this pledge, my lady fair. 
 Of my unending love for thee. 
 
 [37] 
 
it^ltW^^P IPE DREAMS C^Ct3(t3C^[t3 
 
 THAT SUMMER LONG AGO 
 
 To-night, sweetheart, I see your face 
 In the embers' dying glow, 
 
 And in the night wind hear the songs 
 You sang long years ago. 
 
 We were happy then, and careless, love, — 
 Life's troubles yet to know, — 
 
 And all the world was glad with us 
 That summer long ago. 
 
 The sun shone brightly then, dear love, 
 
 But rivalled not the glow 
 That lingered in your own sweet eyes 
 
 So many years ago. 
 
 The flowers that bloomed beside our path 
 
 Could never hope to grow 
 As fair as you seemed, dear, to me 
 
 In the days of long ago. 
 
 The birds sang sweetly to their mates 
 In the sunset's golden glow. 
 
 But not so sweetly as you sang 
 To me so long ago. 
 
 [38] 
 
ipt^rr]:f] PIPE DREAMS c^rt^c^^c^^ 
 
 The air was full of melody 
 
 When you whispered soft and low 
 The words I never shall forget, 
 
 Though 'twas so long ago. 
 
 I've wandered since in distant lands, 
 And viewed life's bravest show, 
 
 And still I love you as I did 
 So many years ago. 
 
 But now the hillside where you sleep, 
 'Neath willows drooping low. 
 
 Is white with daisies as it was 
 That summer long ago. 
 
 [39] 
 
:pt^ti^^ PIPE DREAMS tt][tiMltj 
 
 FRISCO'S PRAYER 
 
 *'Dear Lord, I never took a hand in this here 
 
 prayin' game before, 
 But Bill's cashed in his chips, an' we're all 
 
 feelin' sore 
 Because th' show-down wasn't square; 
 An' seems to me that somewheres over there 
 In that fair land th' parson tells about 
 There ought to be some spot where Bill could 
 
 stake a claim out, 
 For Bill was white. Dear Lord, just chalk it 
 
 down. 
 There never was a squarer man struck town 
 Than Bill. He'd sell his shirt to buy a friend 
 
 a meal; 
 An' once, when Limpy Pedro tried to steal 
 His dust, an' some of us had roped him when 
 
 he fled, 
 'Perhaps th' cuss was hungry, let him go,' 
 
 was all Bill said. 
 You might have thought sometimes that he 
 
 was wild; 
 But, Lord, his heart was tender as a little child. 
 He had his faults, of course, — ^the best man 
 
 sometimes slips; 
 
 [40] 
 
it^cMlpt^ PIPE DREAMS [tlt][Mlt3 
 
 But, Lord, just let him have a fair show for 
 
 his chips. 
 An', if he trumps when he should follow suit, 
 Please bear in mind he's just a plain galoot 
 Who shoves his chips in smilin' when he shows 
 A losin' hand, an' tries to play th' game th' 
 
 best he knows." 
 
 THE PATRIOT 
 
 When Eteocles, at the seventh gate of Thebes, 
 Polynices 'gaged in mortal strife. 
 
 His country's weal supreme o'er ties of blood 
 he held. 
 And valued honor more than life. 
 
 So the true patriot, at his country's call, 
 
 All ties forsakes, her cry for help to heed, 
 
 And studies not his own advantage, but to give 
 His country succor in her hour of need. 
 
 [41] 
 
rptifif]ii;} PIPE DREAMS C^C^rMi 
 
 WHUT'S DE USE? 
 
 Whut's de use o' hoardin' money ? 
 
 Yo' cain't spend hit when yo're dead; 
 Whut's de use o' bein' stingy, 
 
 When so many cain't git bread ? 
 
 Whut's de use o' bein' haughty ? 
 
 Whut's de use o' bein' proud ? 
 Dere's heaps o' smarter men den yo' is 
 
 Cuts no figger in er crowd. 
 
 Whut's de use o' bein' gloomy ? 
 
 Whut's de use o' bein' sad ? 
 In de darkest hour o' trouble 
 
 Dere's some reason ter be glad. 
 
 Whut's de use o' bein' graspin' — 
 Lookin' f er yo' pound o' flesh ? 
 
 Lak ez not some shiftless nigger 
 
 Wid yo' help might start afresh. 
 
 Yo'll git mo' pleasure out er givin' 
 
 Den receivin', any day; 
 Ef yo're only mind ter think so, 
 
 Dere's mo' fun in work den play. 
 
 [42] 
 
[TjctiticgDcyiP IPE DREAMS rM^it^ifif^ 
 
 Jes' stop er bit an' look erbout yo' ; 
 
 See de hulks dat strew life's shore, 
 Den shuck yo' coat an' holp ter float dem 
 
 On de tide o' hope once more. 
 
 IN THE TIME OF THE HARVEST 
 MOON 
 
 Oh, Love is sweet joy in the Springtime, 
 And Love is sweet joy in June, 
 
 But tender and true and joyous, too, 
 Is the Love of the Harvest Moon. 
 
 For many will love in the Springtime, 
 And many will love in June, 
 
 But, ah! so few are tender and true 
 In the time of the Harvest Moon. 
 
 [43] 
 
C^lMlt3C^PIPE PRE AnSC!x!3[M3[t3 
 
 THE SAME OLD SEASON 
 
 The same old Christmas will soon be here, 
 With the same old joys to share, — 
 
 With the same old games we always play. 
 The same old punch, and the same old 
 fare. 
 
 We'll respond to the same old query, 
 
 "Will you have dark meat or light?" 
 
 And, whether we take the light or dark, 
 'Tis the same old bird, all right. 
 
 There'll be the same old Christmas tree. 
 Decked out in the same old way, — 
 
 With the same old toys, the same popcorn, 
 The same old Santa, and the same old 
 sleigh. 
 
 There'll be the same old horns to blow. 
 The same old candles to burn; 
 
 And the same red wagon under the tree — 
 With wheels that refuse to turn. 
 
 Under the same old mistletoe bough 
 We shall find the same old miss. 
 
 With the same old patient, expectant air — 
 Still in wait for the same old kiss. 
 
 [44] 
 
iti^;ipt^ PIPE DREAMS c^rM^ 
 
 The same smug babe will be there, too, 
 And require the same old praise, 
 
 (And the same old fib, "How like his pa!") 
 Expressed in the same old ways. 
 
 We'll make the same old presents. 
 
 And receive the same old things, — 
 
 The same old slippers (a size too small), 
 
 The same old books, and the same old 
 rings. 
 
 The same old Christmas will soon be here, 
 With the same old joys to share; 
 
 And God be praised in the same old way 
 If the same old faces greet us there! 
 
 [45 
 
C^[t][t3[t]Ct] PIPE PRE A M S ipit^rpcf} 
 
 BA'TISTE'S BEEG FEESH 
 
 Wan tarn mon pere, he catch a feesh 
 So beeg she look lak whale: 
 She's mos' so long as t'ree, four feet 
 From wan end to her tail. 
 
 Mon pere, he pull zat feesh right up, 
 He Ian' her on ze shore. 
 An' zen, Mon Dieu ! she flop her tail. 
 An' he don't see her some more. 
 
 Mon pere, he brag some 'bout zat feesh, 
 Wen he go down to ze store. 
 An' tell how beeg an' long she vas, — 
 Bimeby he brag some more. 
 
 Till pretty soon ol' man Brosseau, 
 He laugh an' say, "It's wrong 
 To brag much 'bout ze feesh you catch 
 'Less you bring zat feesh along." 
 
 Mon pere, he's mad, an' jomp up queek. 
 An' bang him on ze head; 
 Till w'en they pick ol' Brosseau up, 
 By Gar! you's tank he's dead. 
 
 [46] 
 
C!3C!3C^C!3[t] PIPE DREAMS Ct][tit]Ct][t3 
 
 Mon pere, he's go to jail for zat, 
 An' he get fine forty dol'; 
 He's stay lock up for wan long tarn, 
 So he can't go feesh at all. 
 
 It seems to me lak wan sure t'ing, 
 An' ze moral is, *'It's wrong 
 To brag much 'bout ze feesh you catch, 
 'Less you bring zat feesh along." 
 
 RECOMPENSE 
 
 To sing a song as we go along 
 
 (Though with pain the heart's a-quiver) 
 Will lighten the way on the grayest day, 
 
 As gifts enrich the giver. 
 
 [47] 
 
^^OTX?3PIPE DREAM SltW^Pt^ 
 
 COY FAME 
 
 There lived a dreamy poet once 
 
 In old St. Botolph's town, 
 Who wrote much weird and soulful verse 
 
 That brought him great renown; 
 For none could understand it, 
 
 However hard they tried, 
 And those who most endeavored to 
 
 Soon gave it up or died. 
 His sonnets were most wondrous things. 
 
 With themes that soared sublime, 
 And wove in words of mystery 
 
 That never chanced to rhyme. 
 No one could grasp their meaning. 
 
 So all made haste to say, 
 "How grand! How sweet! How simple! 
 
 They're transparent as the day!" 
 So this dreamy poet scribbled 
 
 Reams of verse that quickly sold, 
 And gathered in much glory. 
 
 Likewise a lot of gold. 
 And when at last he came to die 
 
 They planted him with care. 
 And raised a lofty shaft inscribed, 
 
 "Here lies a genius rare!" 
 
 [48] 
 
Ct3[t][t]c^c!3 PIPE DREAMS it^lMlf} 
 
 The moral I would point is this: 
 Would you be rich and grand, 
 
 Just write a lot of soulful stuff 
 That none can understand. 
 
 RUTH 
 
 I know a little maiden, passing fair, 
 
 With glinting gleams of sunbeams in her hair, 
 
 And in her eyes a look most wise, 
 When mirth and mischief lurk not there. 
 
 This little maiden, with her soul of truth 
 And winsome, 'witching sweetnesses of youth. 
 
 Now grave, now gay, and lovable alway, — 
 This little maiden's name is Ruth. 
 
 [49] 
 
:f}Jt^rfif^ PIPE DREAMS rtictic^rtjct] 
 
 THE POINT OF VIEW 
 
 A rich man and a poor man met by chance 
 
 one day, 
 And a beggar by the roadside heard the rich 
 
 man say: 
 "Oh that I were as happy, as strong, and 
 
 free from care 
 As yonder stalwart fellow! Then, indeed, 
 
 would the world seem fair. 
 Were I rid of my tiresome millions, my houses 
 
 and stocks and bonds, 
 I'd glean my joy from the hillsides, from the 
 
 woods and fields and ponds, 
 I'd roam o'er my new-found kingdom, like a 
 
 boy from school set free. 
 And the goddess of false riches would beckon 
 
 in vain to me. 
 But, no! I miist carry the burden that rests 
 
 on me day and night, 
 And walk with a sure and steady step lest it 
 
 bury me from sight." 
 The rich man sighed and went his way, and 
 
 the beggar mused the while 
 Till the poor man came that way once more, 
 
 and lingered by the stile. 
 
 [50] 
 
Ct]C^C!3Cg3C!3 PIPE DREAFIS it^lt^lt^ 
 
 " Had I but that rich man's millions," the 
 
 beggar heard him sigh, 
 "Dear Mollie should go to a sunnier clime, 
 
 not linger here — ^to die. 
 Ah, Mollie! Ne'er was a wife more true. Is 
 
 it God who bids us part ? 
 Or is it a poor man's poverty that's helping to 
 
 break my heart ? 
 'Tis hard to know that the shining gold he 
 
 scatters with careless hand 
 Would bring to your cheeks their olden bloom, 
 
 like the touch of a fairy's wand; 
 But he to his idle pleasure goes, while I, as 
 
 the days go by, 
 For the lack of what he would never miss, 
 
 must helplessly watch you die." 
 
 The beggar mused on the problem old, while 
 
 the poor man went his way. 
 Till the moon crept up to find him there, 
 
 content with his bed of hay; 
 And at last he uttered this maxim wise: 
 
 "'Who climbs not does not fall.' 
 So it seems to me," the beggar said, "I'm the 
 
 happiest, after all." 
 
 [51] 
 
ltlt^[ppV PIPE DREAMS rflf^lptlf} 
 
 THE MEN OF FORTY-MILE 
 
 They fought with cold in their search for gold 
 
 In the land of the Polar Zone, 
 Driving a pick in the ice-cap thick 
 
 While their fingers froze to the bone. 
 
 They slept like logs, and they ate their dogs 
 (When grub ran low) with a smile, 
 
 And would pass up a plate for "more o' that 
 steak," 
 Would the men of Forty-Mile. 
 
 They were brave and bluff, and their ways 
 were rough. 
 
 For they faced Death every day 
 While they delved in the soil with bitterest toil. 
 
 And counted their work as play. 
 
 Their language might shock ears polite, 
 And praying was not their style; 
 
 But they'd grit to burn, when it came their 
 turn. 
 Had those men of Forty-Mile. 
 
 [52] 
 
:m^^^ PIPE DREAMS [ticticgitit] 
 
 MOLLIS DEAR 
 
 We have journeyed long together, 
 
 Mollie dear. 
 We have faced some stormy weather, 
 
 Mollie dear. 
 We have felt both joy and pain, 
 We have had both loss and gain. 
 As the sunshine follows rain, 
 
 Mollie dear. 
 
 As Life's pathway we have trod, 
 
 Mollie dear, 
 O'er the rocks and on the sod, 
 
 Mollie dear. 
 When our feet w^ere bruised and torn 
 And our hearts were weak and worn, 
 By our love we were upborne, 
 
 Mollie dear. 
 
 June was joyous when we met, 
 
 Mollie dear; 
 And our love is tender yet, 
 
 Mollie dear. 
 Now your hair is white as snow. 
 And to me you seem to grow 
 Fairer than long years ago, 
 
 Mollie dear. 
 
 [53] 
 
C!xWx!3[t3 PIPE DREAMS it^^pt^lf^ 
 
 We have come through joy and tears, 
 
 Mollie dear, 
 To the sunset of our years, 
 
 Mollie dear. 
 While the shadows round us creep, 
 By your side I'll closer keep : 
 Hand in hand we'll fall asleep, 
 
 Mollie dear. 
 
 QUATRAIN 
 
 On grief that's yet to come or pleasure flown, 
 Why waste a thought ? The rose that's blown 
 
 Has lost its fragrance on the desert air ; 
 And who knows the harvest ere the seed is 
 sown ? 
 
 [54] 
 
Cg^CgX^JM^ PIPE DREAMS [M^C^C^ 
 
 THE MASTER POWER 
 
 The ice-locked stream, like a poet's dream, 
 
 Waiting the waking hour, 
 At the swift sweet bliss of the Sun God's kiss 
 
 Thrilled to the master power. 
 The morn's soft light bathed its bosom white 
 
 Till it stirred to its inmost deep. 
 And its soul lay bare in its beauty rare 
 
 When it woke from its winter sleep. 
 
 The maiden's heart, in a world apart. 
 
 Waiting the waking hour. 
 At the swift sweet bliss of a lover's kiss 
 
 Thrilled to the master power. 
 Love's flame leaped bright in her bosom white 
 
 Till it stirred to its inmost deep, 
 And her soul lay bare in its beauty rare 
 
 When it woke from its virgin sleep. 
 
 The ice-locked stream and the maiden's heart, 
 
 With joy, when their bonds were free. 
 Each cast on the altar of love their charms, — 
 The maid sped swift to her lover's arms, 
 And the stream to the distant sea. 
 
 . , [55] 
 
[t3[t3Ct3Ct][t3 PIPE DREAMS Ct3Ct3Ct3Ct3Ct3 
 
 NEW ENGLAND'S HILLS 
 
 SPRING 
 Always with garlands Spring delights to crown 
 
 New England's hills, 
 x\lways the shy arbutus hastes to welcome the 
 
 laughing rills; 
 And always the winding valleys, stretching 
 
 away between, 
 Astir with the mystic springtime, are clothed 
 
 with a living green. 
 
 SUMMER 
 
 Always the clouds sail high and white over New 
 England's hills. 
 
 And always the silver sheen is seen of a thou- 
 sand laughing rills. 
 
 Dancing their way with a merry lilt down to 
 the valleys green. 
 
 With their plenteous charms of smiling farms 
 stretching away between. 
 
 AUTUMN 
 
 iVlways a motley robe is spread over New Eng- 
 land's hills, 
 
 And its gold and crimson threads float down 
 along with the laughing rills: 
 
 [56] 
 
it^cM^^ PIPE DREAMS CglM3CM3 
 
 Always their aisles are carpeted with Nature's 
 
 wondrous weaves, 
 And the warp and woof of her tapestry are the 
 
 rustling fallen leaves. 
 
 WINTER 
 Always the Frost King holds his court on the 
 
 bleak New England hills, 
 And his impish elves with bands of steel fetter 
 
 the laughing rills; 
 Always the hills are robed in white, and a 
 
 wondrous sight is seen 
 When the sunshine plays like a stream of fire 
 
 over its crystal sheen. 
 
 [57] 
 
(pt^lpt^^p P I P E DREAMS C^Cg3[t3C!Jt3 
 
 O WASHINEE 
 
 When the rosy flush of morn, 
 
 O Washinee, 
 Comes to greet me with the dawn, 
 
 O Washinee, 
 And the red deer comes to drink. 
 Standing fearless at your brink, 
 There's no fairer sight, I think, 
 
 O Washinee. 
 
 When the sable robe of night, 
 
 O Washinee, 
 Hides your distant shores from sight, 
 
 O Washinee, 
 xAnd the stars blink in the sky. 
 Through the silence, like a sigh, 
 Floats the loon's sad, eerie cry, 
 
 O Washinee. 
 
 Fairest gem of all you are, 
 
 O Washinee, 
 Gleaming like a jewelled star, 
 
 O Washinee; 
 And your mirrored surface seems 
 Like the mirages of dreams 
 'Neath the moonbeams' silvery gleams, 
 
 O Washinee. 
 
 [58] 
 
Cg3[tjCgX!3C!3 PIPE DREAMS Ct3CY3C^[f][t3 
 
 In your depths the lake trout sulks, 
 
 O Washmee; 
 On your shores the wildcat skulks, 
 
 O Washinee; 
 Where your rice fields scatter seed, 
 There their flocks the wild geese lead, 
 And the black duck comes to feed, 
 
 O Washinee. 
 
 I have heard your wild waves roar, 
 
 O Washinee, 
 As they beat upon the shore, 
 
 O Washinee; 
 And I've fled with sails close furled 
 From their angry crests, white curled, 
 At my craft with fury hurled, 
 
 O Washinee. 
 
 I have loved your every mood, 
 
 O Washinee, 
 Were it gentle, were it rude, 
 
 O Washinee. 
 Happy days forever past, 
 With too much of joy to last. 
 By your side sped all too fast, 
 
 O Washinee. 
 
 [59] 
 
[t3[t3[t3Ct]C^PIPE PRE AnSCt3CgJt3C^[t] 
 
 "VANITY OF VANITIES" 
 
 Brief the play our parts are cast in; small the 
 
 stage on which we tread; 
 Trivial things engross us, living; sound our 
 
 sleep when we are dead. 
 Time's effacing flood engulfs us, sweeps us 
 
 and our works away; 
 Where the desert sands are drifting, ruled an 
 
 empire yesterday. 
 Many feet have trod the measure, prince and 
 
 pauper, saint and knave; 
 Human loves and joys and sorrows pave a 
 
 pathway to the grave. 
 Rarest joy is born of sorrow, and, like sorrow, 
 
 cannot last. 
 On the altar of dead pleasures lie the ashes of 
 
 the past. 
 
 [60] 
 
[t][t][t][t][t] PIPE DREAMS [t]Cg][t][t][t3 
 
 THE WAVES ALONG THE SHORE 
 
 Far away, like distant music, 
 
 Sounds the murmur of the sea, 
 While it gives the wind a message 
 
 From the silent past to me; 
 And I hear the words of loved ones 
 
 Faintly echoed o'er and o'er 
 In the distance-softened murmur 
 
 Of the waves along the shore. 
 
 When the summer sun is shining, 
 
 And the sails far out at sea. 
 Like white birds on the horizon. 
 
 Gravely curtesy to me, 
 Comes the whisper of the ocean, 
 
 Sad, sweet tones I loved of yore, 
 And the plaintive moan and murmur 
 
 Of the waves along the shore. 
 
 Like the rhythmic throb of organ, 
 
 With its diapason vast. 
 Swells the chorus of the ocean 
 
 With its message from the past. 
 Till the wild winds wrap the mainland, 
 
 And the breakers' sullen roar 
 [61] 
 
Cg^C^jCtiCgDrt] PIPE DREAMS Ctjc^CgPC^Prt] 
 
 Tolls the knell of shipwrecked sailors, 
 x\s they beat upon the shore. 
 
 When the sea-gulls whirl in circles 
 
 Far above the distant sea, 
 Comes a vision of my childhood. 
 
 Fraught with memories to me, — 
 Comes a sound of children's laughter. 
 
 As they race along the shore, 
 By the distance-softened murmur 
 
 Of the waves along the shore. 
 
 By my door I sit, a-dreaming 
 
 Of the years forever past, 
 While the summer sun is shining 
 
 And the time is speeding fast 
 To the day for which I'm w^aiting, 
 
 When I shall hear no more 
 The plaintive moan and murmur 
 
 Of the waves along the shore. 
 
 [62] 
 
iM^lt^^lf} P I PE DREAMS [ticM^^^ 
 
 PROTEST 
 
 We've opened our doors to Europe, we've 
 
 welcomed her teeming hordes; 
 We've beaten the peaceful ploughshare from 
 
 the blades of our idle swords; 
 We've welcomed the stupid Moujik, the Slav 
 
 and the Hun and Finn, 
 And the dregs of foreign gutters, with their 
 
 squalor and filth and sin. 
 Go look at our ports of entry, where the hordes 
 
 come streaming in. 
 With forms grown gaunt with hunger and 
 
 faces seamed with sin, 
 Who have squandered their lives in labor, and 
 
 hunger and debt and pain, 
 Till the innocent truth of a vanished youth can 
 
 never come back again; 
 W^hose children are born in travail and nurt- 
 ured in woe and want. 
 Whose eyes have seen only sorrow and whose 
 
 faces are pale and gaunt; 
 Who have eaten the crust of hunger and slept 
 
 on the bed of pain. 
 Who have slaved from the dawn of the early 
 
 light till the sun went down again. 
 
 [63] 
 
[t3[t)[M3C^ PIPE DREAMS lt^[ptJtlfi 
 
 How long shall we bear the burden, how long 
 
 shall we be the prey 
 And the dumping-ground of Europe for the 
 
 stuff she would throw away ? 
 
 THE CHIEFEST GIFT 
 
 Love, fame, or wealth, — were either mine for 
 choosing. 
 Think you that I would long debate ? 
 Possessing love, I'd laugh at fate confusing. 
 And tread life's thorn-strewn path with 
 soul elate. 
 
 [64] 
 
lycflpm^ PIPE DREAMS C^CtiticTO 
 
 ON THE OLD BARN DOOR 
 
 I wonder, Jane, if you remember — 
 
 Sixty years ago, or more — 
 How I carved our names together 
 
 On the old barn door ? 
 
 How I carved a heart and arrow — 
 Emblems prized in lovers' lore — 
 
 And entwined our names around them 
 On the old barn door ? 
 
 I can see just how you looked, Jane, 
 While you stood there by my side, 
 
 And remember how my heart thrilled 
 With a boyish love and pride. 
 
 You were but a blue-eyed child then. 
 
 And your cheeks were round and red; 
 
 And as soft as golden corn silk 
 
 Were the curls upon your head. 
 
 And the kiss you gave me, simply, 
 
 With an innocence sublime, 
 Lingers still upon my lips, Jane, 
 
 After all that lapse of time. 
 
 [65] 
 
cfltKijip^ PIPE DREAMS it^^tW^flf] 
 
 Memory drew my steps to-day, Jane, 
 To the old farm-house once more. 
 
 And I found our names engraved there 
 On the old barn door. 
 
 Time had blurred the earven letters, 
 
 And the moss of many years 
 So obscured them I could hardly 
 
 Trace their shaping through my tears. 
 
 When my name is carved again, Jane, 
 I would ask for nothing more 
 
 Than some kindly hand to trace it 
 On the old barn door. 
 
 [66] 
 
[t^lt^Cpt^ PIPE DREAMS Ctic^CgJC^^ 
 
 LET'S GO A-FISHING 
 
 The morn is young. Its rosy gleam 
 Lights all the surface of the stream — 
 Let's go a-fishing. 
 
 The dew is still upon the grass: 
 'Twill shine like diamonds as we pass — 
 Come, try the fishing. 
 
 The birds will greet us with a song: 
 We'll light our pipes and jog along — 
 To go a-fishing. 
 
 The air is sweet beneath the pines 
 As choice bouquet of rare old wines — 
 When going fishing. 
 
 I know where trout lurk in a pool 
 That's deep and still, and dark and cool- 
 They wait our fishing. 
 
 A Silver Doctor, cast with care, 
 May lure them from their deepest lair — 
 Haste to the fishing. 
 
 Or Stranger, Toodle Bug, or Tim, 
 May tempt them to the pool's dark rim— 
 If we go fishing. 
 
 [67] 
 
Cg3Cg3Ct]Ctlt3 PIPE DREAMS Jt^^t^^t^^t^ 
 
 A Parmachenee Belle we'll try 
 If they should happen to be shy — 
 While we are fishing. 
 
 And, oh, the peace that we shall feel 
 If we bring back a well-lined creel — 
 When we go fishing! 
 
 For there's no sport, however rare, 
 That to my mind can half compare — 
 With going fishing. 
 
 [68] 
 
[M3^^^PIPE PRE Ansc^iM^rM] 
 
 THE GIRLS WE'VE LOVED 
 
 The girls we've loved in the yesteryears 
 
 Were winsome girls, and fair; 
 And some had eyes like sapphires blue, 
 
 And some had golden hair. 
 
 And some had rosy cheeks, and lips 
 That oft in smiles would part; 
 
 And each has left some tender touch 
 Of romance in our heart. 
 
 To singing-schools and husking-bees 
 We went as squires of dames 
 
 With shy, untutored coquetries 
 
 And sweet old-fashioned names: 
 
 Such names as Ruth and Abigail, 
 
 Or Patience, Prue, or those 
 That from the family Bible's store 
 
 Their doting parents chose. 
 
 At dances in the raftered barns 
 
 The wondering kine looked on 
 
 While we in minuet and reel 
 
 Tripped gayly till the morn. 
 
 [69] 
 
iprimn^ PIPE DREAMS ^flM^t^ 
 
 And when the maple sap in spring 
 Dripped sweetly in the trough, 
 
 We trooped through snow-drifts deep to join 
 The joys of "sugaring off." 
 
 Dear comrades were the girls we loved, 
 Who shared our joys and woes: 
 
 I fear me 'tw^ould be hard to find 
 The equals now of those. 
 
 Then here's the toast I offer you, — 
 
 Let glass to glass touch rim: 
 "Here's to our loves of the yesteryears — 
 
 God bless their memories dim!" 
 
 [70] 
 
c?3C?3C?3[t][t3 PIPE DREAMS rf^it^it^it^ 
 
 VALENTINE 
 
 Sunrise and morning mist. 
 
 And after that the day, 
 And at the shore one swift farewell 
 
 Ere I must sail away. 
 
 Noontide and fainting heart. 
 And one cool drink for me. 
 
 And your dear lips in prayer to guide 
 My argosies at sea. 
 
 Sunset and curfew bell. 
 
 And waves that curl and foam. 
 And beaming far your beacon light 
 
 To guide me safely home. 
 
 Twilight and tivinkling stars. 
 
 And one true heart for mine, 
 
 And on Life's voyage to its end 
 ril be your valentine. 
 
 [71] 
 
mM 
 
■Higii