PS "3 Sis' n/1 MAP' Class _liS^S-J5 ()0]jyrightF_ C^l O) CDPKRIGHT DEPOSIT; RHYMES GRAVE AND GAY RHYMES GRAVE AND GAY By CAROLYN AND GORDON HILLMAN THE CORNHILL COMPANY BOSTON Copyright, 1919, by The Cornhill Company vv.oi.A530930 ^l"^ c^"^ I3I9 TO ONE WHO IS NO LONGER WITH US ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Are due to Mr. Braithwaite s 1918 Anthology, The Boston Transcri'pt, the Sjmr, Town and Country, and the Nantucket Inquirer and Mirror far 'permission to rej)rint poems which have previously appeared in those publications. Contents Page Printemps 1 A Rouse ^ 'Is Missus ^ Devonshire Lad 5 " Gat Goes a Gordon " ''' Devon Drumbeats ^ The Blue Strand 1^ The Hero 11 The Question 1^ Homeward Bound ^^ In the Country 16 Your Garden 1' The Little Girl That Died 18 The Dim Trail 19 The Spring Lanes 21 Sugar Hill 2* The Old Graveyard 2S The Brook ^ Bristol Hills 25 The Wind and the Road 26 Pasquaney Lake 28 Nantucket ^^ Song ^1 Harbor Lights 32 The Old Mill 35 Nantucket Lanes 36 Longing 37 Wauwinet 38 A Fantasy 39 Home Again ^^ The Smugglers 4)2 Answers *3 Contents Page Lake Michigan 44 Pattington Beach 46 The Quorn 48 For Memory .50 The Bobby on the Beat 51 Moth and Star 53 Bird of Joy 54 Price 55 Friendship 55 The Old Bayou 56 L 'Envoi 57 AROUND THE YEAR We sometimes think he must return Ere yet the May-time passes. In summer-time we do not yearn; He rests beneath the grasses. But in the spring, each tender tint Each new moon birth is telling Of here, once more upon the earthy His gentle spirit dwelling. In later year, when skies are gray Or snow is heaped in masses Again from us he wends his way. Again his brave soul passes. WAR TIME Rhymes Grave and Gay PRINTEMPS The spring rolls up in Picardy Like a great white cloud in May, The spring comes late in Picardy, It's marching there today. The blackbirds sing from ruined eaves, And Mayflowers spring from rotting leaves, In Picardy, in Picardy, in Picardy in spring. The road toSt.Cete,it twists and winds and bends. The road to St. Cete, it never, never ends. The trees that grow beside it are bursting forth again, And tender buds are opening in the gentle April rain, In Picardy, in Picardy, in Picardy in spring. A brown flood pours along the road, And shells plow up the wheat-fields sowed; But the soldiers sing as they march away. And green grass sprouts from the torn-up clay. The airplanes sail in the brilliant blue; But the skylarks mount on their wings, too, In Picardy, in Picardy, in Picardy in spring. [1 Rhymes Grave and Gay A ROUSE This is our last night together, Comrades ! Comrades ! Let us drink to morn. Drink to rose and purple heather, To the land where we were born. Let us drink to Bonnie Scotland. Give a cheer, lads! Give a cheer! Out among the hell of shot, and Out among the poison gases, Think upon our laughing lasses. All stand now and drain the glasses. Give a cheer now ! Give a cheer! This is our last night together. Comrades ! Comrades ! Let us drink a toast. Damn the Germans, hell to leather! Teach them how to boast. Let us drink to Bonnie Scotland; Give a cheer, lads! Give a cheer! Only once we die and rot, and Only once a brave soul passes. For us say no solemn masses. All stand now and drain the glasses. Give a cheer now ! Give a cheer ! [2] Rhymes Grave and Gay 'IS MISSUS Joe 'e is a 'ero, a-wearin' of 'is cross, Joe 'e is a 'ero but 'is missus is his boss. He went into the army 'cause she threw 'im out o' home — She 'it 'im with a broomstick an* tol* 'im *' Gro an' roam." An' so 'e's been a-roamin' — a-fightin' o' the Dutch — But the fightin' 'e's been doin' don't amount to much An' now e"s comin' up the walk a-swingin' o' 'is stick An' in a 'arf han 'our, 'e'U be scrubbin' o' the brick. The King 'e takes 'im by the paw an' shows 'im to the Queen, An' now 'e's out upon 'is knees a-weedin' of the green. 'Is missus sits upon the steps, a-lookin' at 'is cross The King 'e is a ruler, but 'is missus is 'is boss. 3] Rhymes Grave and Gay 'E's a-bustin' o' the stovepipe an' scrubbin' o' the floor While 'is missus sits afore 'im so's 'e carn't get out the door. 'E's out upon 'is furlough — takin' of 'is rest But 'is missus says for workin' an' workin' is the best. The King 'e is a ruler, the Queen she is his wife; A general 's a rubber doll what 's sudden come to life; A 'ero is a 'ero — a-wearin' of 'is cross — But you '11 find a 'ero's missus alius is 'is boss. [4] Rhymes Grave and Gay DEVONSHIRE LAD There's a little town in Devon A-winking at the sun. There was a lad in Devon Before the war begun. Who strayed across the purple downs Who watched across the sea. Who saw from a hill, the seven towns And Cornwall to the lea. He marched away from Devon A-bound for Plymouth Hoe, And the prettiest girl in Devon Cried as she watched him go. He waved farewell to the headlands, He never saw them more. And sailed away to the dull gray sands Of the rocky Breton shore. He saw the fields of Artois A-gleaming in the rain. He saw the hills of Artois, And thought of a Devon lane, Where roses grow in the summer days, Where the great downs tower high. Where the last faint light of the sunset's rays Must always come to die. [5] Rhymes Grave and Gay There's a little town in Devon Half hid among the downs. There's a pretty girl in Devon Who sits, and waits, and frowns. Who watches the road she saw him go, Whose hopes are always high, Who watches the road to Plymouth Hoe The road he took to die. [6] Rhymes Grave and Gay "GAY GOES A GORDON" Donald the piper marched away From Aberdeen Town on a July day To sail for the fields of sunny France, Where the vine-leaves prosper and maidens dance. And the sound of his pipes in the summer air Challenged his foes as a devil-may-care. Down the road from old Calais Sound the tunes of the pipers gay, And the simple peasants in the grain Stare and stare, and look again At the swinging column of lads in brown That came to fight from Aberdeen Town. Down the road where Caesar came. Speckled now with spurts of flame. Tramp the pipers, playing still, Tunes of Scotland's dale and hill. While the weary men that march along Take a part in the pipers' song. Donald the piper, alone alive Of his Gordon comrades, twenty-five, Piped in the midst of shot and shell. Piped his regiment out of hell, And marched with his plaid of bluish-green As gaily as if in Aberdeen. [7 Rhymes Grave and Gay And the sound of the pipes in the April air Took them back to Scotland fair, And the cheering crowds as they marched away. From Aberdeen on a summer's day — There comes a halt in the music clear, "Donald's gone west." — The clansmen cheer! Donald the piper, so they say, Sounds his skirls under Flanders' clay. But his captain smiles, and shakes his head, "Donald never can be dead. And we'll see him yet, in his jacket brown, Piping his way through Aberdeen Town." [8] Rhymes Grave and Gay DEVON DRUMBEATS The fertile fields of Devon shall never see them more. The farmer sons of Devon have gone away to war, Have gone from the downs, the fens, and wolds. Have left their land and all it holds For the dreary field of Northern France Where the piper plays his devil dance. They see the downs of Devon in the mist of yes- terday. They see the downs of Devon till they rest be- neath the clay. They're watching and a-waiting for the day that never comes When they'll be marching back through Devon- shire to the beating of the drums. When the hawthorn is in flower and the gorse is smelling sweet, And the dusty roads of Devon are shimm'ring in the heat. [9] Rhymes Grave and Gay THE BLUE STRAND Ah, *tis many a year now since I left the Irish border, Left the sea and the blue, blue land, 'Tis green is Ireland on the hillside, But 'tis blue it is upon its strand. Ah, the blue strand in the morning sparkling, An' the hawthorn wet at dawn of day. Ah, the green hills glistening in the gloaming An' the lights a-gleaming, gleaming 'cross the bay. Ah, the heart of me is breaking slowly, The hair of me is growing gray. But the soul of me is sighing in the springtime For the morn of just one perfect day, When my lover stood beside me in the springtime, When the peat fires burned with sullen flame, When the heart of me was bursting into glory. That's the day my bonnie lover came. Now 'tis Flanders' sod he's lying under, Deep, deep down 'neath Flanders' clay. And my soul cries out, way through the gloaming For my bonnie lad who marched away. Ah, 'tis spring again in lovely Ireland, And 'tis spring again in this far land. But I — My heart is breaking With the crying of the sea-gulls on the strand. [10] Rhymes Grave and Gay THE HERO Cockney Joe o' Lunnon is a-takin' of his air. Cockney Joe o' Lunnon is a-mincin' down the square, A-showing of the golden cross he got to the war; An' no one here in Lunnon knows wot he got it for. Cockne}^ Joe o' Lunnon is a-goin* to the halls. An' like as not he'll go an' sit right down among the stalls, A-showing o' his golden cross, a-stickin' on his chest. He's out upon his furlough an' takin' of his rest. Cockney Joe o' Lunnon is a-eatin' o' his tuck, He's a damnin' an' a swearin' at the filthy muck. He's a fiUin' up on crumpets, an' swillin on his tea. An' a more stuck up sojer man, no one ever see. Cockney Joe o' Lunnon has a score or more o* loves, A-cooin' an' a-squealin' like a dozen brace of doves; An' it looks as if he'd get a wife before the end o' day. But Cockney Joe o' Lunnon is a-spending o' his pay, [11] Rhymes Grave and Gay Cockney Joe o' Lunnon is a-wastin' o' his tin, An* if he's got a copper, he's bound to blow it in. He's been in quod for gettin' drunk upon a holiday. He up an' told the judge, he'd got ter spend his pay. He tried to dance the hornpipe in the middle o* the square, A-kickin' o' his legs an' a -pawin' o' the air. The bobby caught 'im in the act, an' took him back to jail. But blest if in seven days, he wasn't out on bail. For he's a hero, the hero o' the line. He saved his bloomin' regiment from ridin' on a mine. An' so the off 'cers all salute, an' fellers touch their hats — Cockney Joe o' Lunnon just turns his nob an' spats. 12] Rhymes Grave and Gay THE QUESTION The hawthorn's budding sweet today. Ah, Christ, how can it bear to blow And Archie far away from me With the brave lads who row on row Must lie and rot in Flanders' field. I hate the blooming hawthorn tree, Every sound and scent of May. They tear my very heart from me To think upon that sodden way He vainly carried youth's white shield. Christ, was it vain? Can he yet know Some scent of May, its falling rain; Through star-dust fires, from some dim height Can he still see this blossoming lane — Our rose-white hawthorn's old spring yield. [13] Rhymes Grave and Gay HOMEWARD BOUND The Devon sea is purpling now, The Devon shores are dim. The Devon hills a shapeless crest, The Cornish coast is grim. Sunset's light was stronger then. The hills flared up with red, Flared as red as Flanders' fields Where lie the Devon dead. The Devon wind is rising fast The Devon mist falls low The Devon coast was clearer then In the flame of the afterglow. The Devon air is moist and sweet The downs rise in the sky All black against the harbor lights Where the homebound transports lie. [14 IN THE COUNTRY Rhymes Grave and Gay IN THE COUNTRY 'Tis raining in the country Sheets of silver slanting rain 'Tis glaring in the city, The same red sun again. The pavement's dry and blanching. The air is dry and hot, Some fair god made the country But the city, he forgot. The news comes to the city Of the battle's latest rout. By brooksides in the country Rises a shining trout. Then let me leave the city With all its madding roar And in the good green country Meet the country's god once more. [16] Rhymes Grave and Gay YOUR GARDEN All through the summer's golden glow And through the autumn hazes, How sweet to see your roses blow, The poppies' vivid blazes. Your garden was a rare delight And you a generous giver, We watched from dawn till dewy night The larkspur's bright blue quiver. The hollyhocks and columbine, The pansies and the daisies. And sweet peas laid out line on line, Clove pink its gay head raises. And you at work among them there, Dear good friendly neighbor, Once more I see your garden fair And you at loving labor. [!■ Rhymes Grave and Gay THE LITTLE GIRL THAT DIED So few the summers that she knew, So few of spring's bright hours; And yet your heart, beneath its rue. With spring's returning flowers Is peaceful when you visit there — The tiny mound that covers The little girl who never grew To care for lads as lovers. Who never grew to know the pain Of living, and of loving, Of joy and then of grief again, With all stern life's behooving. She lived her little moment's life Where all was love around her, And nothing knows of later strife, Now new horizons bound her. [18] Rhymes Grave and Gay THE DIM TRAIL J. D. There's a ruined farmhouse on a hill Near a rustic bridge o'er a quiet rill, And near the house, there's an apple tree. Jim, you'd better go back with me. Up the road and over the hill, After the bears we didn't kill, Over the rocks of Cardigan, Where it was just the same when the world be- gan. To the apple tree and the road beside, To the straying trail o'er the mountain side. To the leaping brook where we caught the trout Jim, let 's go back for a quiet scout. Where you sit with your feet out over the edge, And every forest looks a hedge, And the great White Mountains, far away. Blaze with the flame of returning day. [19] Rhymes Grave and Gay And the purple shadows of coming night Steal like a cloud up the mountain height. Now we're older. The trail is dim. 1*11 bet you wish we were back there, Jim ! [20] Rhymes Grave and Gay THE SPRING LANES Rose lighted in the summer Are the mellow country lanes; And ruby lit in autumn Through the gently falling rains. With star lights in the winter Like glistening silver stains But gorse lit in the spring-time — Ah! Spring has thieved the gains. [21] Rhymes Grave and Gay SUGAR HILL It whispers in the autumn When the trees are dry and brown. It whispers then so loudly, You can hear it in the town. It whispers in the night-time. Wh-r-r! Beneath the rising moon And it whispers in the day-time In the sun's fierce glare at noon. And if you don't believe it, Just you listen, anytime When you are passing by it Since the frost is in the rime. [22] Rhymes Grave and Gay THE OLD GRAVEYARD A stretch of hills low lying, and afar The graveyard where the grey slabs are. Sometimes you see a hawk wing by. A small boy stones it. Hear sometimes the cry Of waterfowl up on the lake. Then all is quiet, save sometimes you make Out the church clock's last beating peal. So quiet ! What heavenly peace to heal The souls that lie beneath the sod. Are they there, or at last at rest with God? [23] Rhymes Grave and Gay THE BROOK Over and over the pebbles In raying rims of light In a thousand quick'ning trebles The brooklet takes its flight. I stand on the bridge and ponder *Neath soft blue summer sky — Do I hear the brook, I wonder, Or but my own heart's sigh? [24] Rhymes Grave and Gay BRISTOL HILLS The distant hills of Bristol I see them shining clear, The hazy hills I used to climb To sain my saddest year. The purple hills of Bristol I see them shining still, The heathy hills I used to climb To balm my deepest ill. The lighted hills of Bristol I see them shining plain — The happy hills I used to climb And shall not climb again. [25] Rhymes Grave and Gay THE WIND AND THE ROAD Down among the valleys, Down among the hills, There's a wind that sometimes dallies, A wind of a thousand thrills. It whispers of a cornfield Far away from me. It whispers of a cornfield Where I should like to be. It whispers of a dusty road Across a fertile land. It whispers of a dusty road That deepens into sand. The high road, the low road, The road that runs between. The low hills, the high hills, The hills of gallant green. [26] Rhymes Grave and Gay The mountains in the distance, The island on the lake. The river in the valley Winding like a snake. [27] Rhymes Grave and Gay PASQUANEY LAKE The lake is molten silver, The hills are gnomes of jet, The moon a ball of ivory Caught in the sky's blue net. The trees are dimly dappled, The roads are dusky ways, Flares of scarlet leap on high From an island camp-fire's blaze. f28 NANTUCKET Rhymes Grave and Gay NANTUCKET The sea gleams green as a bit of jade The moors are brown and bright, The breakers dance across the beach And turn its gold to white. The sky is sunned to a Cobalt blue A yacht scuds up the bay And over the roofs of the whaling town The mill stands gaunt and grey. [30 Rhymes Grave and Gay SONG Here in a crowded city I lie me down to die. There in the seaside village They hear the curlew cry. They hear it, wondering dully Why it calls tonight — Alone in helpless sorrow My soul is taking flight. But with the scented sunrise Will the curlew cease its cry, For in the dusk of dawning My heart goes home to die. [31] Rhymes Grave and Gay HARBOR LIGHTS A long time ago when I was a school-girl I boarded at a skipper's by the shore, On the loveliest land I can remember, The dim and dreamy land of Nevermore. I could see when I looked out from my window The great white ships a-sailing off to sea, As on and on and on they went a-fairing, Past the lighthouse at Brant Point on the lee. And there was one old squat tub of a steamer That tramped and wallowed all the way to town. To New Bedford, where she docked, and snorted When her captain brought her in and laid her down. I loved to ride on that old white steamer, But far better still I loved to sail Up the harbor on the dingy packet That carried the brown canvas bags of mail. And the sheeps'-commons that I wandered over Plucking bluebells and heather as I went. And the great gray waves tossing in the distance Where sullen tides drew out, far flung and spent. [32] Rhymes Grave and Gay The sights and smells of Main street were delight- ful. Each dusky shop a fairy tale of bliss, The markets with fruits sprawled out in patterns, And sticky sweets called *' Salt Water Kiss.'* But best of all, I loved to go a-fishing For the bluefish, away off on the rips, With my dear old brown wigged landlord captain. Who sails the sea no more in man-made ships. Oh, the salt yarns that he was always telling, And of the gold he got in forty-nine. And of how he fought in the Rebellion, Then came his sudden call, '*Pull in your line!" And how he traveled in the Orient, Took winning part in a Kanaka race. Such priceless tales for a slow hour of yarning. He told with shining eyes and sober face. I think he never died but just went outward. Just sailed away one quiet autumn night, — When the tides were setting slowly heavenward He drifted by his well-known harbor light. [33] Rhymes Grave and Gay I think that some celestial sea he 's sailing, Or standing on some far celestial quay In youth's bright land of Nevermore, still waitings I*m sure that Captain Ben will welcome me. [34 Rhymes Grave and Gay THE OLD MILL The wind sweeps over the sunny hill, The grass bends with the breeze. The old mill whirls its arms about With a staid but royal wheeze. They built it stout and greyly squat Like an old-time Java brig. You 'd know it was a sailor's work From its lines so trim and trig. Its grey holds back the moorland's brown From the greyer roofs below. It stands, a burnished sentinel. In the sunset's crimson glow. [35] Rhymes Grave and Gay NANTUCKET LANES One winds about in and out Through lanes that have no ending, And far and near, through air, sun clear Our devious way we're wending. Now coming out, or just about, Upon the seiners mending, And far and drear, with no ship near, The white caps, never ending. Ah, look about, the tide is out. O'er seas the silence rending — Hark, far and clear, a clang of cheer The bell-buoy's warn is sending! [36] Rhymes Grave and Gay LONGING Give me the moors again and salt sea waves Where the sun and the wind, those arrant knaves, Mix a coat of tan for my pHant face. Just let me go back to the dear old place. There on its tidcr swept, wind-beat island shore To commune with the old sea-gods once more. There by the juniper and fragrant bay, To spend long hours of a summer day. Let me sit in rapture with wind and sun, Never heeding the moments as they run. In bliss with life, with books, with love. Needing naught else but the kind sky above. Let me think of times in the long dim past, Of the friendships broken, and lost at last; Dreams turned dust, the fitful life I 've led, — And of two on the hill — my quiet dead. The mirage of youth, the few prizes won. Oh, nothing matters in Nantucket sun ! [37] Rhymes Grave and Gay WAUWINET A blue dawn this morning Blue sea and bluer sky With one lone heron rising On silver wings to fly. A blue world this morning, A soft vague smoky hue, Toward the west there's winging One grey bird through the blue. [38] Rhymes Grave and Gay A FANTASY I sing a song of dawning Far, far out at sea Rose and purple sunrise, The old sea-gods for me. The old sea-gods forever, I see one rising now All in the purple sunrise With silver spray hung brow. With eyes forever mocking That hold the old, old lure The one god I ever loved — The god my faith holds sure. I knew him in my youth-time, I 've loved him all my life — If only a deep sea god Could choose a mortal wife! Dawning 's done and over And rose has changed to gray, Neptune calls my sea-god home Beneath the driven spray. [39] Rhymes Grave and Gay HOME AGAIN A stretch of burning beach sand, A fringe of sparkhng foam. Sankaty's light looms highly white To call the fishers home. S'conset roofs show faintly grey Shaping each elfin street, And up and down the little town The moor winds blowing sweet. Then home it is from sullen seas Where the screaming storm gulls fly Back again through fog and rain Where Sankaty's headlands lie. [40] VISIONS, VOICES AND VAGARIES Rhymes Grave and Gay THE SMUGGLERS The Devon sky's a dark'ning flood. The moor-pools are aflame. The Devon hills are tinged with blood From the Tamar to St. Dame. The smugglers come to Devon Just once in every year: They are the ghosts of Devon That all the coast folk fear. They walk again on one May night When the grey is in the sky, And they say it is a wond'rous sight When the gallant ghosts come by. Smugglers with their chests of gold Seeking for their hidden dens. Smugglers as in days of old Stealing cross the shadowy fens. The Devon sky's a stormy wraclc. The Devon hills are dim. The smugglers' ghosts have hastened back Over the morning's rim. [42] Rhymes Grave and Gay ANSWERS T. M. L. Dear boy, how many vanished years ago Your happy smile and true eyes' eager glance, For me, made first youth's friendship something rare. On river-bordered walk, at merriest dance, Wherever by day or eve youth had its joy, We drank its cup together, you a knight In armor clad of gallant hopes and visions. A lad at once gay-hearted, laughing light. Yet brave and gentle as a knight should be. In memory we still roam down youth's rosy lane. And now another path your feet have wandered down. That old weary way of death, past dark gates of pain. Your soul has solved those questions we used to ask In youth's first frank, seeking, hopeful thought. Now you may know, for God at last has given you, Quite fair and young again, the answ^ers that we sought. [43] Rhymes Grave and Gay LAKE MICHIGAN I sing a song of a lake that's blue, — (Michigan, that's meant for you !) That swells from Straits of Mackinaw Back to Chicago's Iron Maw. I sing a song of a lake with bays, That can't be seen in a hundred days. Of beaches and quiet sandy dunes That glitter under western moons. Of steamers gay, and the moonlight's trail On the deep black water over the rail. Of dull grey mornings, Wisconsin's shores, And the sunny straits of Michigan's doors. I sing a song of a lake at noon. Of waves that lap like an ancient rune, Of long red freighters to the lea. And hovering gulls on an inland sea. Of a greying sky and dashing spray. Of Michigan on a stormy day. When the spume leaps over funnels tall And the wind sends out an eerie call. [44] Rhymes Grave and Gay I sing a song of a lake most blue Michigan, that's meant for you ! Of birches white, with slender grace. That fringe the harbor of Saint Ignace. [45] Rhymes Grave and Gay PATTINGTON BEACH L. C. An old brown whaleback beating up the lake, The dingy grey sand-sucker, standing like a drake, Are some of the things that come to my mind When I think of the years I have left behind. The shore of the lake was the promised land Where we fashioned our harbors from the sand, As we looked across at the intake light And stared at the steamers, grey and white As they slid along with a brownish plume Of trailing smoke and sun-splashed shume As their sharp bows ploughed the waters blue On their week end journey to the Soo. And the freighters with single funnel aft, Puffing Chicago tugs, and tramping craft That made the lake like a crowded road Of vessels hastening to drop their load. [46] Rhymes Grave and Gay There was plenty of sand to play upon — A great bare, brown beach with never a stone — Where in the autumn time a lone wild duck Would clumsily alight and walk and cluck. We would sit and watch him, my chum and I, As he waved his wings and voiced his cry. And wished we could follow his distant flight As he sailed Southward through the night. They've put a wooden wall around the sand For somebody complained his land Was being eaten by the lake, and so It Ml never be the same again no matter when I go. [47] Rhymes Grave and Gay THE QUORN Oh, for a sight of the far flung dawn Oh, for a ride with the dashing Quorn. A ride we may envy, you and I, A ride to take and then to die. A gallop through the waking town Over the moorland, grey and brown, Through the bracken and into the sedge. A leap, and over the ancient hedge. Dan Russell the fox is quick this morn. He hears the sound of the master's horn As its echoes scatter far and near And the bay of hounds comes strong and clear. A red streak past the alders' bow, A scurry of hounds and the '* View Holloa," Through the gate and over the brook. We laugh to think of the jump we took. [48] Rhymes Grave and Gay Oh, for a sight of the far flung dawn. Oh, for a ride with the dashing Quorn The ringing horn — the hounds' deep bay And the rousing shout " Gone, Gone Away! ** [49] Rhymes Grave and Gay FOR MEMORY He was my first lover, And I was seventeen. He sent a bunch of roses, The dainty Bon Silene. I wore them to the dance. There's many years between, Yet still I hear ** The Lancers," Still love the Bon Silene. When they played " Blue Danube," The music's silver sheen Led us to first youth's heaven. Ah, scent of Bon Silenel The seasons have been many Since his boyish face I've seen. Yet still upon my birthday I buy the Bon Silene. [50] Rhymes Grave and Gay THE BOBBY ON THE BEAT 'E's a rascal, *e's a rascal. 'E drinks 'is whisky neat. 'E*s a rascal, *e*s a rascal, The bobby on the beat. *E breaks up friendly argiments That happens now an' then, 'E breaks up friendly argiments An' jails a dozen men. 'E's death on lovin' couples, An' 'e's pizon to the drunks. 'E travels round in couples, Like a pair of ol' fat skunks. A-walkin' down the Lunnon Strand, A-struttin' in the square, You stops a minute to 'ear a band, An' blamed if 'e ain't there. 'E's a devil, 'e's a devil. We hates 'im now like sin Since 'e broke up a quiet revel Wot we was settin' in. [511 Rhymes Grave and Gay 'E*s a buster an' a bounder. There's only one thing good. It's agin the law to 'it yer. But don't 'e wish 'e could! [52] Rhymes Grave and Gay MOTH AND STAR Castles in the air, gray castles, Dim outlines rise and glimmer, Built of songs and sighs and longings, And moonbeams' transient shimmer. Gray moths float about the towers. Gray dawns around them rising, And high o'er topmost turret. Desire's white star apprizing. [53] Rhymes Grave and Gay BIRD OF JOY The long lights shake and shiver On a deep translucent river, And the ashen aspens quiver By a mystical river of dream. Clear green, pale pelucid green. Shining shadows' silken sheen Where gray dragon-flies careen On a magical river of dream. And red rose leaves float. Each a rare, rocked, crimson boat, Till they reach a far faerie moat Off a mystical river of dream. A rainbow island lying there. Tinted castles rising fair. In flower scented summer air On a magical river of dream. On emerald tree spray clinging. Ere yet his last flight winging, Rests life's white joy bird, singing O'er a mystical river of dream. [54] Rhymes Grave and Gay PRICE I sail upon a sea uneharted. Life's sea of pain and care. My cargo is as yet unmarted. God grant I sell it fair. FRIENDSHIP Dark, all dark around me, My day seemed almost done — Then your great heart found me, And flash! Out shone the sun. [55] Rhymes Grave and Gay THE OLD BAYOU Trees and trees, row on row, Bathed in light of the afterglow — Grey and slender, straight and slim. On the western bank all grey and dim. Rose to gold and grey to blue The sunset tints the old bayou, While over tlie river swift and deep Shadows of sundown shake and creep. Like half dead tales of Creole days Long hid in misty river bays. Too shy for day — too bold for night. Alone revealed in the sunset's light. [56] Rhymes Grave and Gay L'ENVOI You gave to us in days of death The kindest word yet spoken; These verses free, our hearts beneath, We send them as a token. There was a glance from your kind eyes, A balm to our hearts — broken; And now with all that in us lies, We send these for a token. Of simple verse, — a slender book, — Ah, please do not return it But give to it that same kind look. Then — if you choose — why, burn it! [57] SlAVE R -How lAND PBia 271 Fr*nkhn St. XOSTOJ^ :!fiar "015 939 028 7