Book 4^^ 
 
 Copyright N" ' y 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 
 
Moods and Fancies 
 
 By 
 PAUL C. BOOMER, M.D. 
 

 
 Copyrighted by 
 Paul C. Boomer, 1914 
 
 ©CI,A379358 
 
 AUG 2b 1914 ' 
 
Fly little Fancies this your sacred trust, 
 
 To brighten memories covered o'er with dust, 
 
 Charm a dull hour, a weariness beguile. 
 
 Warm a friend's heart and start the waiting smile. 
 
ContcntiS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Celestial Amusement 9 
 
 The Bells of St. James 12 
 
 The Wind 15 
 
 On the Square 17 
 
 My Sweetheart is Dead 21 
 
 Mount Tynabo 22 
 
 A Valentine 24 
 
 Bugs 26 
 
 The Tenderfoot's Christmas 28 
 
 The Point of the Road 30 
 
 Discontented 32 
 
 One Variety 33 
 
 A Tribute 36 
 
 The Primrose's Lover 34 
 
 A Valentine 37 
 
 The Doctor 38 
 
 Our Star 41 
 
 The Soul of the Violin 42 
 
 Liberty Bell 44 
 
 Equal Suffrage 46 
 
 The Latest 48 
 
 By a Suit Case 50 
 
 Incense 52 
 
 Clouds 54 
 
 The Bowl 56 
 
 Daughter 59 
 
 6 
 
Chicago 60 
 
 Nell 62 
 
 Cremation 64 
 
 To Miss M W 65 
 
 Pneumatic Tires 66 
 
 'Twas Ever Thus 68 
 
 There is no God but God 72 
 
 ? 75 
 
 Athanasia 76 
 
 Gods 78 
 
 Humanity and Destiny 82 
 
 Curtius 85 
 
 After Thought 101 
 
Celejsttal amujsement 
 
 The Great Ones sat in company at the bounds of the 
 
 starry world 
 They smiled as they watched the whirling spheres 
 
 their arms of might had hurled, 
 Limitless void beyond them spread and a universe 
 
 swirled before 
 And they smiled on a work so far finished, they smiled 
 
 at its musical roar. 
 
 Then Mintung, the mighty, uttered a thought that 
 
 gave the gods great cheer: 
 "Let us place on some sphere a creature that can both 
 
 see and hear. 
 That can feel and taste and suffer and can know what 
 
 it is 'to try'. 
 Let us place within his bosom — for we'll make him 
 
 like you and I 
 A desire to learn of all he sees, the How, the When, 
 
 and the Why 
 We can watch him try to comprehend the stars we 
 
 have swung on high." 
 
Then stately Tajung urged a thought to which the 
 
 gods agree 
 That each confer a quahty upon this thing *'to be" : 
 "Let us grant him strength and valor according to 
 
 his needs, 
 Let us give him Love and Fancy as a spur to worthy 
 
 deeds." 
 Callaesthitis dowered Beauty and each god gave a seed 
 Which flowered in humanity from Faith and Hope to 
 
 Greed. 
 
 They chose a little flaming star and cooled it in their 
 
 breath, 
 They clothed the sphere with verdure and blessed with 
 
 Life and Death, 
 They nursed it for an eon 'till man had started fair, 
 They filled his heart with longings, they filled his mind 
 
 with care. 
 They granted many virtues offset by many odds 
 And eyes to see all things except the features of the 
 
 gods. 
 
 10 
 
They breathed into his being a willingness to do, 
 They scribed upon his forehead the lines by which 
 
 to hew, 
 And last they filled his bosom with strong desire to 
 
 know; 
 Then tossed the sphere with man and brute among the 
 
 stars below 
 And anchored it unto a sun within the central throng 
 And watched the man grope after Truth and find it 
 
 or go wrong ; 
 And endless rapture warms the gods and heaven's 
 
 applause swells wide 
 When man blasts out another Truth and makes it 
 
 his with pride. 
 
 11 
 
Ci^e i3eUi8 of ^t. Slamejs 
 
 Far up within the tower, 
 
 Shouting forth with brazen power 
 
 Are the bells with saintly names, 
 
 Are the bells of our Saint James, 
 
 Twenty metal throats sonorous 
 
 Joined in one grand mellow chorus. 
 
 Bells have rung in every nation. 
 
 Bells have rung in every station, 
 
 Man ever will be governed by their tone. 
 
 Not alone those in subjection 
 
 Nor for those who crave protection 
 
 But as well for kindly rulers on their throne. 
 
 Ye will tell as bells have told 
 In past centuries dim and old 
 Human joy and human sorrow by your chime, 
 You will toll out war's distress 
 Measured to our mental stress 
 Ringing joyous o'er success. Thou'rt sublime. 
 Ye have duties, do them well. 
 Shout aloud a people's gladness. 
 O'er a wedding ring to madness, 
 May you have but few to knell. 
 Guide and lead man in his blindness 
 Give thy voice to human kindness 
 Let thy mission be in fine 
 All good, human and divine. 
 
 12 
 
Ave Marie, sound is faintly 
 
 Full of sweet suggestion saintly 
 
 Turning men to prayer, 
 
 But with bolder tone and manner 
 
 Fling the loved Star-Spangled Banner 
 
 To the air. 
 
 My Country, peal the song 
 
 Ring it often loud and long 
 
 Till the chords of every part 
 
 Reach and thrill each listening heart, 
 
 Till all feel the rich devotion 
 
 Of the brazen bells in motion. 
 
 Throbbing out an invocation. 
 
 Blending praise with supplication, 
 
 Pouring forth upon the air 
 
 A great nation's mighty prayer. 
 
 Forever thou shalt warn man in thy knelling. 
 
 Forever shalt thou throb in sweetly telling 
 
 Of heavenly love, 
 
 Forever shall thy music ease affliction, 
 
 Forever shalt thou voice a benediction 
 
 From above. 
 
 13 
 
Far up within the steeple 
 High above the listening people 
 Are the bells with saintly names, 
 Are the chimes of our Saint James, 
 Twenty voices joined in chorus 
 Twenty brazen throats sonorous 
 Music pour. 
 
 Tongues of saints on high are singing, 
 Angels at the loud chimes ringing 
 Open to the chant are swinging 
 Heaven's door. 
 
 14 
 
C^e Winn 
 
 The delicate zephyr that plays with the rose, 
 
 Bathing itself in its fragrance and goes 
 
 On kissing each flower and shaking each leaf, 
 
 Creeping along as still as a thief. 
 
 Now lifting the hair from the brow of a lass 
 
 Who stoops for a violet hid in the grass, 
 
 Now buoying the petals it scatters so free 
 
 As they fall from the blossoms that cling to the tree. 
 
 Now and then, here and there, in the meadow or wood, 
 
 'Tis the wandering wind in its gentler mood. 
 
 Oh the wind, the wild rollicking wind 
 
 That blows where it listeth and none know its mind. 
 
 It scatters the leaves and it hustles the bird, 
 
 It drives the poor clouds through the sky in a herd, 
 
 The grass bows before it, the flower hides in fright 
 
 And the trees shake their limbs in the breath of his 
 
 might. 
 He wraps his strong arms 'round the maid on her way. 
 He blows in her face and he tells her to stay. 
 His embraces are rough and his kisses lack art 
 But wherever he goes he acts well his part 
 On ocean or prairies, on inland or bay 
 'Tis the rollicking wind on his mischievous way. 
 
 15 
 
Oh the wind, the wild maddened gale, 
 That scatters the snow storm and hurtles the hail, 
 It tears through the canyons and roars in the pass, 
 Snaps the huge mountain tree like a dry blade of grass, 
 Plows the ocean to furrows and bathes in the spray 
 That it hurls toward the sky as it sweeps on its way, 
 There is terror before it, destruction behind 
 And the voice of a demon is heard in the wind. 
 Whenever it roars and the billows roll high, 
 Where trees fall before it and whole forests sigh, 
 Where faces turn pale as the foam they have scanned 
 And the eye on the ocean is strained for the land. 
 Wherever it may be may heaven be kind 
 'Tis the wild angry mood of the wandering wind. 
 
 Strange it is man is so like the varying wind; 
 
 In his moods he is gentle, protecting and kind. 
 
 He is strong and courageous, triumphant and brave, 
 
 'Tis the soul of an angel and not of a slave, 
 
 But when passions have conquered. Hell doth not 
 
 contain 
 One devil more fiendish than man when insane. 
 
 16 
 
€)n ti^e ^auare 
 
 There aint no wimmin in this tale because that none 
 
 were there, 
 It's just a Western shooting scrap conducted on the 
 
 square, 
 No hero, but all villains and they were plenty bad, 
 No smiles or tears, no hopes or fears and nobody was 
 
 sad. 
 
 It happened in Nevada, Alpha was the lonely spot, 
 This was early in the eighties — everything's now gone 
 
 to rot. 
 There was sagebrush all 'round Alpha, rocks and sand, 
 
 lye and clay 
 And the blizzards roared in winter and the sun cooked 
 
 things in May. 
 The houses there at Alpha numbered one and nothing 
 
 more 
 It was hotel, ginmill, college, station, church and 
 
 general store. 
 An Italian dago ran the place and claimed to own the 
 
 ground ; 
 He manufactured all the booze for thirty miles around. 
 He burned charcoal for the smelters at Eureka miles 
 
 away 
 And the axes of his choppers were busy night and day. 
 
 17 
 
His little book showed later when the gov'ment did 
 
 appear 
 That his pinion pine theft tactics netted fifty thou a 
 
 year. 
 
 There aint no love in this here tale because that none 
 
 was there, 
 It's where a bronco buster and a teamster fit for fair, 
 And I a nineteen-year-old kid were present on the spot 
 And I can tell the story from the sass up to the shot. 
 
 Black Jersey druv the dago's team of twenty-four 
 
 big mule 
 He 'lowed that Bronco Peter's dad was a hoss thief 
 
 and a fool 
 And Bronco Peter knew 'twas true but Greaser's blood 
 
 is fire 
 And he allowed that Jersey was a Gringo and a liar. 
 Then Peter swung onto his hoss and his riato swung 
 He run his pinto up and back and jumped a wagon 
 
 tongue, 
 He kept a pulling at his flask and gitting up his steam 
 Until his face were black and bad — he surely did look 
 
 mean. 
 Black Jersey sat upon the porch you bet he didn't 
 
 mope 
 His knife were ready and his eye glued to that 
 
 Greaser's rope 
 
 18 
 
Just then the Chinee cookee banged the triangle for 
 
 chuck 
 And the dago made a Httle speech and wished the 
 
 scrappers luck; 
 But, says he, you cannot eat inside; you'll shoot the 
 
 place to smash. 
 Go eat in cookee's kitchen he's a-slinging of your hash, 
 And so Black Jersey and Gay Pete walked in there 
 
 side by side 
 A-watching o' each other as we knew they loved their 
 
 hide. 
 The grub was on the table and the places just across 
 And when they settled to that bench things was an 
 
 even toss. 
 Two Bitts, the Chinee cookee, fell flat without a yap 
 • When he saw that both his boarders had a gun upon 
 
 the lap. 
 We held our breath and waited— -then came the sudden 
 
 crack 
 That told us only one white man were living in that 
 
 shack. 
 We rushed to find Black Jersey a-eating cool as fate 
 While Bronco Peter's bleeding head were laying in 
 
 his plate. 
 They both had watched each other and both had moved 
 
 the same 
 And Jersey were alive because the Greaser were to 
 
 blame. 
 
 19 
 
Pete got a little nervous and when he raised, we jedge, 
 The muzzle of his cannon caught on the table edge 
 And Jersey let him have it just plumb between the 
 
 eyes. 
 At Alpha there's a square of fence ; well, there's where 
 
 Peter lies. 
 This aint no tale of sentiment because that none were 
 
 there 
 It's just a rough song of the times and what the West 
 
 called square. 
 
 20 
 
Oh, how can our brothers still traffic and sing, 
 
 Oh, how can the Sun still make day; 
 
 When a spirit so fair 
 
 Has passed into air 
 
 And her beautiful body to clay? 
 
 Earth has lost her forever 
 
 Death means forever. 
 
 Oh, how can the children still play? 
 
 The ground that she trod is holy and sweet 
 
 And sacred the grasses that kissed her dear feet, 
 
 Ah, blessed is the flower 
 
 That grows by her bower 
 
 And precious her loved rustic seat. 
 
 She has left them forever, 
 
 The tomb means forever 
 
 And death makes life's volume complete. 
 
 My sweetheart is dead. The sunlight streams down 
 
 On the white marble face of her tomb; 
 
 My heart has turned sere 
 
 With a terrible fear 
 
 Oh, I never shall see her again. 
 
 Ah, never, ah, never. 
 
 She has left me forever 
 
 I never shall see her again. 
 
 21 
 
jHount Crnabo 
 
 (NEVADA) 
 
 Oh thou fair mountain on whose pearly crest 
 The first faint ray of dawning finds its rest, 
 Pure in thy gUstening surplice of the snow, 
 Enchanting when the rosy clouds aglow 
 With the first flush of morning crowns thy peak. 
 And the white mists within thy hollows seek 
 Some place upon thy generous breast to shade 
 Their ghost-like forms that soon must shrink and fade. 
 
 In the bright midday when the scorching heat 
 
 Shrivels the flower beside my dusty feet 
 
 And the sweet birds that from the sage brush gray 
 
 Trilled to the earliest light their gladsome lay 
 
 Are stilled and with drooped wings are panting now 
 
 Beneath the densest shade of cedar bough, 
 
 Afar in azure space thy fairy height 
 
 In dreamlike splendor glistens in the light. 
 
 At the red sunset when the evening breeze 
 Bears from thy sides the odor of thy trees 
 And tinkling train and creaking dusty cart 
 Down the steep trail bring fragments of thy heart, 
 The panting herds stand in the deepening shade 
 Or in thy ice-born torrents slowly wade, 
 Lo ! on thy cloud-like peak I see a light 
 And Venus, queen of evening, crowns the height. 
 
 22 
 
Or at the midnight, 'neath a starless heaven, 
 
 Wild with dark clouds that by the blasts are driven, 
 
 I stand and gaze if I may gain perchance 
 
 By the wild lightning's glare an instant's glance 
 
 Of thy loved height, when lo ! the changing sky 
 
 Clears to my vision and my eager eye 
 
 Sees the bright moon shine through the riven storm 
 
 Above thy crest and gild thy shadowy form. 
 
 Against the dark, deep, purple sky of night 
 
 See the fair mountain standing snowy white 
 
 Outlined with silver with thy crest ablaze 
 
 Above a rosy heaven of glowing haze. 
 
 Glory of glories, joy of joy I feel. 
 
 Thrilled with the grandeur mutely I stand and steal 
 
 A glimpse of Nature worshiping and know 
 
 As oft I had surmised from this low sod 
 
 Thou art fair Nature's altar to her God. 
 
 23 
 
a a^alentine 
 
 In the mountains ages and ages old 
 
 That lie in pride a towering mass, 
 
 In a dark, deep canyon grim and cold 
 
 Where the black, smooth boulders wall the pass, 
 
 A little spring from the barren wall 
 
 Bubbles up and babbles along, 
 
 'Round many a bend, o'er many a fall. 
 
 Now rushing with madness, now humming a song, 
 
 Now whirling a waltz in a stony pool 
 
 With a vagabond leaf all sere and brown 
 
 Ever sparkling and ever cool 
 
 It breaks away and dashes down, 
 
 Leaping on to the valley below 
 
 Where the orange and lemon and fig trees grow ; 
 
 On and on through the fertile vale 
 
 It whispers ever a wonderful tale 
 
 To the palm and the gum and the pepper tree, 
 
 To the traveller who drinks of its waters free 
 
 It whispers ever the tale of its birth 
 
 'Tis a song of gladness and gentle mirth, 
 
 It tells of the snow that lies at rest 
 
 So bright and cold on the mountain's crest 
 
 "I am cold" it says "but colder still 
 
 Is my parent the snow on the lofty hill. 
 
 24 
 
I am pure," it says, "but look at the snow, 
 'Tis the purest thing that Earth doth know." 
 So the stream sings on now loud, now low 
 Not of itself but of the snow. 
 
 Oh, might I send a message so bright 
 
 That it would tell of its source aright, 
 
 If it causes a thrill it tells of a throb 
 
 If it brings a tear its source was a sob, 
 
 If warm with affection the words it expressed 
 
 Judge, judge of the passionate love in my breast. 
 
 Oh messenger, fly on this bright lovers' morn 
 And see that this missive of love is well borne, 
 Far, far to the maid who rules over my heart, 
 Rules by her beauty, rules by her art. 
 Rules by a method that none can divine 
 But still she has conquered this spirit of mine. 
 Tell her in whisper and tell her aloud. 
 Tell her in sunshine and tell her in cloud 
 Utter it ever while she is afar 
 Tell her I love her wherever we are. 
 No, rather, tell her in words what appeal 
 The strength and the warmth of affection I feel 
 So when in the future no longer apart 
 She may judge how much weaker the tongue than the 
 heart. 
 
 25 
 
A dear little bug lived under a stone 
 
 And he was dejected, forlorn and alone 
 
 A sweet lady bug to whom he would sing 
 
 Now smiled on another, he got the cold wing. 
 
 He was a brown bettle, she red, spotted black 
 
 While his rival was gold all over his back. 
 
 So you see the brown lover was left in the cold 
 
 When he came to contend with the beetle of gold. 
 
 The brown bug had sung his most beautiful whir 
 
 And had shown off his speed till his wings were a blur 
 
 He had clasped his antennae in prayer from afar 
 
 But all he could see was the back of his star. 
 
 The beetle of gold was chilly though fair. 
 
 By birth a patrician, his look was a stare ; 
 
 His atmosphere haughty, his manner was bold, 
 
 He acted and felt like a beetle of gold. 
 
 I had a strange pang for the little brown thing ; 
 
 He was active and loving and willing to sing. 
 
 As lady bugs sometimes, so I have been told. 
 
 Will neglect a true love for the glitter of gold 
 
 I decided to aid so far as I could 
 
 The lady to smile on the lover that wooed. 
 
 With paint from my palette the gold I made black 
 
 And the brown one I gilded all over his back ; 
 
 He continued his prayer, he stuck to his song 
 
 And the fair, spotted flirt saw she had been wrong, 
 
 26 
 
She gave a faint smile, her antennae she fanned, 
 The whole scene revolved just as 'twas planned, 
 The brave and the true won the fickle and fair 
 While the once golden beetle took flight in the air. 
 It was human, amusing, instructive and right 
 A Providence meddled with finger of might. 
 
 A moral is dangerous, futile and crude 
 
 But this we can say — to the high — don't be rude, 
 
 To ladies — take care the glitter may fade, 
 
 To lovers — get rich but stick to the maid. 
 
 27 
 
This here's a tale of Christmas, of a Christmas that I 
 
 spent 
 Enjoying of a present that my loving mother sent, 
 But she's the only female that'll figger in this tale 
 And she was just three thousand miles way by railroad 
 
 rail. 
 
 Ma figgered that her present was one 'twould surely 
 
 suit 
 For she sent me on for Christmas a lovely robe de nuit, 
 Embroidered down the bosom, a pocket on the breast. 
 So clean and sweet and wholesome, inviting me to rest. 
 
 Now there was just five others a-sleeping in that shack 
 And the way that they prepared for bed was rather 
 
 somewhat slack. 
 Sometimes they took their hats off, sometimes it was 
 
 their boots 
 But I never seen a single one a-wearing robe de nuits. 
 
 And so I laid for a surprise and waited for the crowd. 
 They came, full of Christmas whisky, a-cursing pretty 
 
 loud 
 But when they seen my nighty they let a frightful yell 
 And pitched me from the cabin like a cinder shot from 
 
 Hell. 
 
 28 
 
I landed in a snowdrift, the thermometer was froze 
 And I would surely perish if I didn't get some clothes 
 So I lit for cookee's kitchen as swift as I could jfly, 
 Sam Loo, the yellow peril, was frightened fit to die. 
 
 But finally he clothed me in his padded coat of mail 
 And I went back to the cabin a chink in all but tail, 
 However not until I'd hid that draggled robe de nuit 
 Behind the cookee's woodpile, 'neath a giant cedar 
 root. 
 
 Next day a Winnamucca buck came begging of some 
 
 chuck. 
 It couldn't have been Friday as he'd had a piece of luck. 
 He came, striding through the snowdrifts, he was 
 
 certainly a beaut. 
 For he wore. Oh Blessed Angels, my lovely Robe 
 
 de Nuit 
 
 29 
 
Cl^e point of tl^e KoaD 
 
 A child he stood by the farmhouse gate 
 
 Bare toes in the white dust spread 
 
 And gazed afar down the road to the West 
 
 Where the shining pathway led, 
 
 Over the log bridge spanning the brook, 
 
 Where the clattering reapers mowed, 
 
 To where tall trees hemmed in the path 
 
 Far away to the point of the road. 
 
 And he yearned to go where it dwindled and shrunk 
 
 And tapered away to naught 
 
 For they told him that there he would find great 
 
 things 
 Of gold a well-filled pot, 
 A beautiful maiden was waiting him there. 
 The wonders of earth there showed, 
 So he longed and dreamed and resolved to go 
 Some day to the point of the road. 
 
 As a blushing youth he bade good-by 
 To the farm where the meadows spread 
 And bravely strode away to the West 
 Where the shining pathway led. 
 In time he found a loving face 
 And a pot that with gold o'erflowed 
 But dim and azure and distant still 
 His gaze sought the point of the road. 
 
 30 
 
Perhaps the spirit that guards the tomb 
 Is the maid of his childhood's tale, 
 Perhaps the buttercup's golden gloss 
 Is the treasure to fill his pail, 
 Perhaps the low green temple 
 Holds wonders that life ne'er showed 
 For here all pathways dwindle and fade 
 Here, here lies the point of the road. 
 
 31 
 
j^fjScontenteD 
 
 Oh, tell me why in this life we miss 
 The superlative joy, the superlative bliss 
 Of getting the finest, of owning the best, 
 When we easily win so much of the rest. 
 
 The largest of fishes slip from our line, 
 The shattered glass held the oldest wine. 
 The loveliest faces but brighten our dreams. 
 And the bushes still hold our bird, it seems. 
 
 Our regular diet is lemons and whey 
 
 For the best that there is never comes our way. 
 
 Just answer this question — yes, make it a bet, 
 
 That the sweetest of kisses are those you can't get. 
 
 32 
 
She gave him a kiss 'twas as airy 
 
 As the down on the Summer's breeze 
 
 'Twas as sweet as the dew in the nectored blooms 
 
 Of the fragrant cherry trees, 
 
 'Twas as Hght and pure as a vagrant flake 
 
 That heralds the doom of Fall, 
 
 'Twas only a kiss from a blushing Miss 
 
 A kiss — yes, that was all. 
 
 It made him very dizzy, 
 
 It went to his head like wine. 
 
 It whelmed him o'er like the ocean hoar 
 
 When he hurls his ranks of brine. 
 
 His iron knees weakened and trembled 
 
 Like blades of wind-swept grass 
 
 When he felt the airy, fragrant FROST 
 
 In the kiss of a blushing lass. 
 
 33 
 
Down in the old garden, beside the still pool, 
 Where is heard the soft song of the fountain's low 
 
 splashing. 
 Where the grass groweth green and the shadows are 
 
 cool, 
 And the dew on the ivy in sunlight is flashing. 
 
 Where the stone walls are hidden with moss and with 
 
 vine. 
 Where the long narrow paths to new pleasures are 
 
 leading. 
 Where the great climbing rose doth its neighbor 
 
 entwine 
 And the tips of the daisies forever are bleeding. 
 
 There, there where the manor house peeps through 
 
 the green 
 Of great oak and lime trees that tower above it ; 
 There, there where nature displayeth her sheen, 
 A bee saw a primrose, to see was to love it. 
 
 Down on the damp mosses, close to the clear waters. 
 On a shore that the ripples were ever caressing, 
 Grew the gentlest, most modest of nature's sweet 
 
 daughters— 
 A primrose that breezes were ever addressing. 
 
 34 
 
Poised in the clear air the bee hung at gaze, 
 His swift wings keep time to discoveries wild thrill- 
 ing, 
 He drops closer still to the rose, love ablaze — 
 The flower hangs her head and he thinks she is will- 
 ing. 
 
 She trembles and nods as he touches her face. 
 
 She bows down and sheds diamond dew that adorns 
 
 her; 
 Her petals draw back from his garments of lace, 
 And she chides the poor breezes not having fore- 
 warned her. 
 
 He pressed the first kiss of a fresh love upon her, 
 He touched her drooped petals with gentlest caresses. 
 She shrinks with the thought of her virtue, her 
 
 honor — 
 But outpouring fragrance her pleasure confesses. 
 
 Exploring her charms with many a sweet kiss. 
 And from her pale breast his own breath perfuming, 
 Till dizzy with loving and senseless with bliss. 
 He falls from her arms in ecstasy swooning. 
 
 So in the old garden, beside the still pool, 
 
 The flowers of the Springtime are trembling and 
 
 blushing. 
 The primrose awaits, where the shadows are cool, 
 The return of her lover so gentle, so gushing. 
 
 35 
 
a Crtbute 
 
 Down on my life, light-footed, fair, she came, in sooth 
 
 Radiant as habitant of some pure sphere. 
 
 Kissed my dull brow and waked a sense to hear 
 
 A spirit whispering words of love and truth. 
 
 Till now my very life had been uncouth 
 
 Except She came to make my vision clear, 
 
 My soul knew not the worth of smile or tear 
 
 Ceaseless I felt the throbbing heart of youth 
 
 Give to me comfort, sympathy and joy. 
 
 Right to the center thrilled the rich warm kiss. 
 
 Enough of heaven she brought to mold Earth's clay, 
 
 Gave love enough to make god Cupid cloy. 
 
 Oh, how can mortal yield such such heavenly bliss? 
 
 Richer am I since she has passed this way. 
 
 36 
 
a i^alentine 
 
 I send you no printed stock fiction 
 
 But speak from a heart that is true, 
 
 My soul seeks to show its devotion 
 
 And burns all its incense to you. 
 
 My love is as deep as the ocean, 
 
 My love is as broad as the sky, 
 
 I have had many girls in my lifetime 
 
 Perhaps I'll have more e'er I die 
 
 But my dearest, my darling, believe me, 
 
 Love to-day means just this. You and I. 
 
 Z7 
 
Within a quiet chamber beside a couch of dread 
 
 A Doctor sits with patient strength to rescue from the 
 
 dead. 
 A striped, white-capped lieutenant glides to his every 
 
 call, 
 He notes the pulse, he notes the breath and ponders 
 
 over all. 
 With potent crystals from strange herbs he aids the 
 
 faltering heart, 
 With hissing gases from dark tanks he whispers of 
 
 his art, 
 With applications cooling he soothes the fevered brow 
 And guides his course and deals his help midst panic, 
 
 tear and vow, 
 Until relieving dews bedeck a swiftly cooling face. 
 The prize is his, the battle o'er, 'tis he has won the 
 
 race. 
 With sage advice and kindly smile he seeks a brief 
 
 repose, 
 Then sallies forth with godlike soul to conquer human 
 
 woes. 
 
 38 
 
In an alabaster chamber beneath the clustered lamps 
 Upon a crystal table a senseless human pants, 
 The stupefying ether has vanquished pain and fear 
 And the white-gowned waiting surgeon with willing 
 
 aid draws near. 
 With glittering blade and artful hand he finds the 
 
 injured part, 
 Dissects with skill, ablates with wit and works with 
 
 speed and art. 
 Sutures the ruptured entrail, withdraws the festering 
 
 gall, 
 Removes the growth, does all with care and then 
 
 repairs the wall. 
 Returning conscience gains at length sway in the 
 
 waking brain 
 And hope and joy ascend the throne usurped by dread 
 
 and pain. 
 With sage advice and kindly smiles that comfort and 
 
 compose 
 He sallies forth with godlike soul to conquer human 
 
 woes. 
 
 39 
 
So here is a song to the Doctor, a sketch of the fighting 
 
 M. D. 
 Who gives of his Hfe that others may live, who slaves 
 
 so others are free. 
 A word to strengthen a weak one, a little advice to 
 
 the strong, 
 No look of reproach at the failures, no morals to those 
 
 who do wrong. 
 Just sympathy, comfort and patience, with wisdom 
 
 and justice and art. 
 With courage and strength and endurance, with mercy 
 
 and kindness and heart. 
 Not least in a peace with its plenty, not last in a war 
 
 with its dole 
 And the welfare of the nations is the purpose of his 
 
 soul. 
 So hail to the Red Cross Captain — grant honor and 
 
 prestige and gain 
 For he wars against the darts of Death and strips 
 
 the barbs from Pain 
 And long may he honor his mission and long may he 
 
 struggle for men 
 Till History shouts forth, his glory forever and ever. 
 
 Amen. 
 
 40 
 
When I think of the lovers of ancient days, 
 Of the phantoms that kissed and sighed, 
 Of words that were spoken by lips now dust, 
 Of hearts that throbbed in fearless trust, 
 Of the beings that loved and died ; 
 
 When I think how the gods have written fair 
 Of the loves of old in the heavens high 
 And that stars will sing the ages through 
 Of hearts that were strong and fond and true 
 I ask — What of you and I? 
 
 But I know that somewhere is a little world 
 Unnamed, unfamed and afar 
 That will glisten bright on some brilliant night 
 When you and I have passed from sight 
 And have joined in our waiting star. 
 
 41 
 
€^e ^oul of tl^e molin 
 
 Three Sirens upon a rocky cape 
 
 Overlooking a turbulent sea 
 
 Once sang together 
 
 In every weather 
 
 For they were happy and free. 
 
 And sailors hearing their song drew near 
 
 Forgetting their duty, forgetting their fear, 
 
 All forgetting together 
 
 The rocks and the weather 
 
 For the singing so sweet and clear. 
 
 The coast was strewn with corpses white 
 And with wrecks once the Ocean's pride 
 But they sang together 
 In every weather 
 Sitting there side by side. 
 
 Till Jove from out the cloudy throne 
 
 Sent forth a bolt of flame 
 
 And they died together 
 
 In stormy weather 
 
 But their voices are still the same. 
 
 42 
 
Soft and low as the voice of the wind 
 
 Whispering in sylvan bowers 
 
 In all kinds of weather 
 
 They sing together 
 
 In shine or Summer shower. 
 
 Like the voice of the sea they heard so long 
 
 Thundering in caverns deep 
 
 They sing together 
 
 In every weather 
 
 And their songs still make men weep. 
 
 Sweet is the song of the Siren souls 
 Doing their pennance for sin 
 In the delicate shell, 
 Their plutonian cell, 
 Best known as the violin. 
 
 43 
 
Uhtttv TBell 
 
 Oh the Bell, Freedom's Bell, 
 What a story it doth tell, 
 How it rang a nation's birth. 
 How it tolled a tyrant's knell 
 Ringing 'round the quiet Earth 
 Rousing echoes that still dwell. 
 How the ancient ringer rang, 
 How the throbbing metal sang. 
 How ten thousand bayonets flashing, 
 How ten thousand sabers clashing 
 With a thousand cannon crashing 
 Answered back the brazen warning 
 In the light of Freedom's morning, 
 Of the Bell. 
 
 44 
 
Oh the Bell, Freedom's Bell, 
 
 Voiceless now it still doth tell 
 
 How in victory oft its tolling 
 
 Woke a nation's frightful yell 
 
 And its music seaward rolling 
 
 Shook the thrones where monarchs dwell. 
 
 How of Independence telling 
 
 While its tones were loudest swelling 
 
 Voiceless it became but Glory 
 
 Draped its form and shouts its story 
 
 And the Bell though seamed and hoary. 
 
 Its prophetic motto showing, 
 
 Louder still the song is growing 
 
 Of the Bell. 
 
 45 
 
(Equal Suffrage 
 
 We are marching on to conquest a hundred million 
 
 strong, 
 The battle is for might of right against the might of 
 
 wrong, 
 We will give to Vice a lacing so she'll never more be 
 
 free, 
 We'll bottle Old John Barleycorn so he no more can 
 
 spree, 
 We'll clean the dirty corners in the house of Politics 
 And prove a worthy purpose can defeat a thousand 
 
 tricks. 
 We'll fight till every spear shall show a worn and 
 
 polished shaft, 
 Till we've freed the slaves of Cunning and ringed the 
 
 snout of Graft. 
 
 46 
 
And v.'hen the war is over and when the good work's 
 
 done, 
 When all our flags are flying o'er the strongholds we 
 
 have won, 
 When the rustle of the ballot is no longer in our ears, 
 When are hushed the yells of victims, when are 
 
 hushed the victor's cheers. 
 Then we soldiers of the nations will sheath the ready 
 
 sword. 
 Still as mothers, wives, and sweethearts we will join 
 
 the council board. 
 Each will guard the general welfare with a noble 
 
 heart and tried. 
 Each will feel the warmth of triumph, each will blush 
 
 with joy and pride 
 When man greets her with a handclasp and spells 
 
 words the World will read: 
 Women win through Love and Courage what man- 
 kind had lost through Greed. 
 
 47 
 
Cl^e latejst 
 
 There's a darling pink-faced baby come to squeeze 
 
 into our home 
 There's a crowd of us already so he'll never be alone, 
 We are poor but we are loving, we will scheme and 
 
 we will plan. 
 Each will give things to the other, we will do the best 
 
 we can. 
 
 Bobbie's sox will do for baby, Willie's shoes almost 
 
 fit Bob, 
 Tommie's pants look well on Willie, Uncle's hat will 
 
 shield his knob. 
 Father's meerschaum goes to uncle, father can use 
 
 granddad's snuff 
 We will all give to each other so the baby'll have 
 
 enough. 
 
 Minn'll give the kid her ribbons, Kate'll give her 
 
 gloves to Minn, 
 Sister Sue's veil goes to Katie though she hates to 
 
 give like sin, 
 Mother's stays will soon fit sister, ma can use dear 
 
 grandma's muff 
 Oh, we really do not matter so the baby has enough. 
 
 48 
 
But next time a pink-faced stranger comes straggling 
 
 into town 
 Let us hope he'll bring his mittens and his sox and 
 
 one spare gown, 
 And if he can't bring his luggage let us hope there'll 
 
 be no more, 
 Or that coming in the darkness he will tap another 
 
 door. 
 
 49 
 
15V a ^uit Cajie 
 
 I once was the hide on a little red bull, 
 
 With a fine pair of horns and hair long as wool, 
 
 That went at six cents at the end of his trail, 
 
 And they yanked off his skin in two jerks of a tail. 
 
 I was sprinkled with salt, thrown into a hole, 
 
 Which magical process brought pride to my soul, 
 
 For at six on the hoof I felt humble and blue 
 
 But a sprinkle of salt made me worth twenty-two. 
 
 I went to the tanner's who took off my hair, 
 
 I felt most immodest to find myself bare. 
 
 Though I blushed for myself, my hair had worse 
 
 shocks. 
 For 'twas made up into a pair of felt socks 
 That keep warm and cosy each beautiful leg 
 Of a dear little teacher in far Winnepeg. 
 I trust and I pray that some day I may clasp 
 A woman's white togs beneath my strong hasp — 
 You'll pardon the wish, my heart is so full. 
 And remember my sex — I once was a bull. 
 
 SO 
 
The tanner he turned me with many a curse — 
 
 He vowed he'd seen few that were very much worse ; 
 
 He soaked and he scraped me without and within 
 
 Till he'd soaked out the ghost of original sin. 
 
 After ages of soaking, of strangling, of grief, 
 
 I came to the light. Yes, it was a relief; 
 
 But then I was rollered and beaten and cut, 
 
 I was shrunken to half, but tough as a nut. 
 
 At last I changed hands and belonged to a Jew, 
 
 Who got me rock bottom, at price forty-two. 
 
 He ordered me made into what I am now, 
 
 For which I am thankful, my pride you'll allow — 
 
 When you learn I am worth as much, yes, alas. 
 
 As the little red bull when he munched the long grass. 
 
 I have entered my life, have made my debut; 
 You be careful of me, I'll be faithful to you. 
 We'll travel together both empty and full. 
 But we'll never behave like the little red bull. 
 
 51 
 
3incen!8e 
 
 Some gentlemen keep on their private shelf 
 Beside razor and bottle of booze 
 A poem that somebody wrote on love, 
 Some withered flowers, a wrinkled glove 
 And a pair of gilded shoes. 
 
 No keepsakes have I of former days, 
 
 No ribbons or gloves or lace 
 
 But often when there's an idle hour 
 
 I can conjure well, for I have the power, 
 
 A smile, a form or a face. 
 
 For my soul like a wizard keeps in his den 
 Some vials of rare old glass 
 That hold the vintage of former years. 
 The glances of eyes, the glint of tears 
 And the fragrance of loves that pass. 
 
 These vials have stopples graven well 
 To the features of some fair face 
 With tresses of auburn, black or tow 
 So at a glance one well can know 
 Which is Violet, Lily or Grace. 
 
 52 
 
I close my eyes, the doors of my soul, 
 And breathe of a vial and then 
 I whisper and smile and court and bow 
 Living over a love that I once did vow 
 Because I'm in love again. 
 
 There's one small vial crowned with Franc 
 
 That makes me giddy and coy 
 
 My face grows pink, my feet are bare 
 
 And I wriggle and twist in my great arm chair 
 
 Because it has made me a boy. 
 
 So there in rows in the den of my soul 
 In vials that glisten and gleam 
 Is the attar of Nelly, of Mabel, of Kate, 
 The essence of Love, the assays of Fate 
 And the incense for many a dream. 
 
 53 
 
ClDUDjS 
 
 At the black midnight when the clouds are riven 
 
 By the mad wind and through the sky are driven 
 
 While the artillery of heaven roars loud 
 
 And lightning spears flash forth from cloud to cloud, 
 
 Demons seem loosed, Plutonian powers hold court, 
 
 Geni and Titan join in awful sport, 
 
 Strife, war, destruction, anger, pain and death 
 
 Whirl o'er the planet, life is but a breath. 
 
 Hades seems real and Heaven but a tale. 
 
 Evil triumphant reigns while angels pale. 
 
 In the fair dawning when the early light 
 
 Pales the low East, the cloud maids greet the sight. 
 
 Faintly at first their pearly heads they raise 
 
 To breathe the matin of their daily praise. 
 
 Seeing their king they glow with joy and pride 
 
 And each one dons the drapery of a bride. 
 
 As that majestic sultan, Sol the proud. 
 
 Struts through his palace, every maid, a cloud. 
 
 Bows low and blushes, smiles and makes a way 
 
 To glorify the coming of the day. 
 
 54 
 
Or at the evening clustered in the West 
 
 The cloud throng gently give the Earth to rest, 
 
 Mellowed or gorgeous in the sinking Sun 
 
 They hold the record of a day now done. 
 
 Some pale with fear, some ruddy with fond joy, 
 
 Some bright with hope, some dull with strange annoy 
 
 Gathered about the bright and awful throne 
 
 They wait for benefice or to atone 
 
 And with the clouds we join the mighty laud 
 
 And almost feel the presence of our God. 
 
 55 
 
Old as the mists of creation, 
 
 New as the first blush of day 
 
 With tinkle and clink, with glitter and glint 
 
 This is the Salad Bowl's lay. 
 
 Lashed in the flames of formative Earth, 
 Cooled by the down-raining seas. 
 Powdered and cut in the glacier's rut, 
 Riding the wind to be free. 
 
 Crushed by the dinosaurs slimy, 
 Fanned by the flukes of the whale, 
 Tossed by the huge hairy mammoth. 
 Swept by the crocodile's tail. 
 
 Shrouding the bones of the mighty, 
 Drinking the blood of the slain. 
 Dashing like darts in the whirlwind. 
 Quietly laid by the rain. 
 
 Thus throughout numberless ages, 
 Ages of peace and of strife, 
 Deluged old ocean unhindered. 
 Struggled the land into life. 
 
 56 
 
Then came the fire of man's fury 
 The flame of his merciless skill 
 It was like to primitive ages 
 When God was working his will. 
 
 When the cold mists whirled to flaming 
 And the flames congealed to stone 
 But I knew this littler, selfish God 
 Would shape me for his own. 
 
 'Twas thus by his short, sharp fury 
 A miracle came to pass 
 And the sands of countless ages 
 Came forth as a bowl of glass. 
 
 He cut and polished and shaped me 
 As I shrieked as if in pain 
 But he paid no heed for 'twas his creed 
 To write the pattern plain. 
 
 And when he had wrought and polished 
 To the joy of his skillful heart 
 He smiled in pride on my glittering side 
 Ai!d pronounced me a work of art. 
 
 57 
 
Once I was nebulous nothing, 
 Now I am pertified dew, 
 Once I was molten rock seething 
 Now I hold cool things for you. 
 
 Yes I am crystallized rainbow. 
 
 Finished the work long begun 
 
 And I feel new delight as I play with the light 
 
 Of my larger twin brother the Sun. 
 
 58 
 
Whose girl are you? I ask of a maid 
 
 Who sits upon my knee. 
 
 Whose girl are you? I ask again 
 
 Of my little one of three, 
 
 She leans away for she loves to tease, 
 
 And soberly answers — "Oh, somebody's." 
 
 And who is this fortunate somebody 
 
 Who owns such a dear little dove? 
 
 Who gets your kisses? who hears your tales? 
 
 Who is it has your love? 
 
 Then back she comes with laughing eyes 
 
 And shouts "Papa" as a great surprise. 
 
 Then I hug my fair little sweetheart 
 
 With a great, strong, bearlike squeeze 
 
 And perhaps 'tis a trifle too rough for the mite 
 
 For she smotheringly begs release 
 
 But I can't help being rough at the time 
 
 For I know that the day will be 
 
 When her answer to "Whose girl are you?" 
 
 Will not 'specially indicate me. 
 
 59 
 
Queen of the western prairies, gem of the inland sea 
 Our hearts and voices join in loyal praise to thee, 
 Exiled upon a foreign shore or nestled at thy breast 
 We're proud of our great mother and sing with love 
 and zest : 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Chicago ! Oh Chicago ! Shrine of a nation's heart. 
 We love thee and we feel that in thee we have a part ; 
 Far, far among the peoples the quickened pulses thrill 
 When is seen the shining legend, the glorious words, 
 *'I Will." 
 
 Where once the glowing embers lighted thy second 
 
 birth 
 There lofty walls of marble hold the trophies of the 
 
 Earth, 
 There granite halls of learning are like jewels in thy 
 
 crown 
 And the billowy clouds of commerce enfold thee like 
 
 a gown. 
 
 60 
 
Thou sittest like noble Ceres *midst harvest's garnered 
 
 worth, 
 The iron steeds of traffic bear thy bounties o'er the 
 
 Earth, 
 In every distant valley, deep in the treasured hills 
 Our brothers toil to fill the call of all thy roaring mills. 
 
 Thine is the voice of millions, the never-ceasing wheel. 
 Thine is the midnight flamings of molten lakes of steel, 
 Thine is the beacon warning the endless transports 
 
 home 
 And thine the meed of glory wherever man may roam. 
 
 The azure water of the lake that pours about thy feet, 
 
 The pure and constant breezes that aid the homing 
 fleet, 
 
 The temples with their thousand spires, the sylvan 
 nooks for rest 
 
 All build thy fame and make thy name now and for- 
 ever blest. 
 
 61 
 
When I was but a laddie among the hills of green 
 'Twas there I met a lassie who became my young 
 
 heart's queen. 
 How her blue eyes could sparkle, her cheek was like 
 
 a shell 
 And I loved her and the darling I christened Pretty 
 
 Nell. 
 But when I told her of my love she ceased her childish 
 
 play 
 Her eyelids drooped, she hung her head and frowned 
 
 and ran away. 
 
 A man, I journeyed to her home, my love had made 
 
 me bold. 
 The flaxen hair had darkened, her head was crowned 
 Her blue eyes sparkled just the same, her lips were 
 
 just as sweet 
 But Nellie was a woman from her glory to her feet 
 And there among the hills of green I told my love that 
 
 day 
 But Nellie blushed, her eyelids fell, she smiled and 
 
 turned away. 
 
 62 
 
Now I am old and wrinkled, few left to call me Bill, 
 I dwell within a palace and servants do my will 
 And had I searched a million worlds through all the 
 
 years of life 
 I could not find another like Nell to be my wife. 
 Whene'er I whisper of my love or talk about that day, 
 Dear Nellie wipes her glasses and smiles and turns 
 
 away. 
 
 63 
 
Cremation 
 
 All men are equal at the end 
 For when they come to die 
 The pauper old 
 And the king with his gold 
 Are food for the buzzing fly 
 
 The maggot, the shark, the burrowing rat, 
 
 The buzzard and stealthy mold 
 
 Begin the work 
 
 Which they never shirk 
 
 When the heart of man turns cold. 
 
 No dark, damp, airless grave be mine, 
 No scavengers or mire. 
 But give my weight 
 To the flaming grate 
 So it vanisheth in fire. 
 
 The clean, lean, greedy, willing flames 
 Yea bid them be my shroud 
 And do not slave 
 To deck my grave, 
 Throw kisses at a cloud. 
 
 64 
 
Co ^apijsjs PL 1^ 
 
 A maiden once had in her darkest interior 
 
 An organ marked A. that was warped and inferior. 
 
 It would gas, it would sass 
 
 And the experts declared that it never had class. 
 
 So they went at the maiden with vim and with ardor 
 
 And cut a small window right into her larder 
 
 And there among chocolates and sundaes and gum 
 
 They found a string bean that was all on the bum. 
 
 They pickled it neatly in spirits of wine 
 
 And I wish that the maiden that had it were mine. 
 
 65 
 
pneumatic Cft^ejs 
 
 From the fluff of island cotton, the southland's 
 
 precious snow, 
 From the sap of tropic jungles where the Orinocos 
 
 flow, 
 From where smoking, rumbling craters threaten man 
 
 and shake the Earth 
 There our elements of being grow and flow and have 
 
 their birth. 
 
 The skill of human fingers, the craft of human skill. 
 Mix and blend the sap and brimstone with the snowy 
 
 cotton drill, 
 Shape and mold and form and fashion with a miracle 
 
 of art 
 Till the parts are made a unit and the unit has no 
 
 parts. 
 
 66 
 
In quadruplets forth we trundle for conquest and for 
 
 mirth 
 Filled with the breath of heaven we will spin around 
 
 the Earth, 
 With the strength of sixty horses we spurn the level 
 
 road, 
 We need no gentle urging, we need no cruel goad. 
 
 Like hounds upon the quarries' trail our music is the 
 
 horn. 
 Like lions in the desert our fear the wayside thorn. 
 Like eagles on spread pinions as silent, swift and free 
 And the reason for our being is the joy we bring to 
 
 thee. 
 
 67 
 
As he strolled along the sands of Time 
 By Life's shining river aflow 
 He found a Naiad of wondrous grace 
 With tear stains marring her beautiful face 
 And a spirit weary with woe. 
 
 Her words were but sobs, her posture despair, 
 
 Her breathings a sibilant sigh. 
 
 Her hair was disheveled, her garments awry. 
 
 Like a bird with wrecked pinions that never can fly 
 
 She lay as one dying and wished but to die. 
 
 He tried to comfort, to bring relief 
 
 To the stricken stranger with heart so sore, 
 
 To learn her sorrow, to end her fears. 
 
 To ease her pain and stop her tears 
 
 As she lay on the glistening shore. 
 
 At length in a voice that was all a moan 
 She told the tale of her grief; 
 How her Triton lover of late grown cold 
 Was paying court to a mermaid bold 
 Who dwelt in the coral reef. 
 
 68 
 
Her sniffs became scattered and fewer her sobs, 
 
 As she Hstened she lessened her sighs, 
 
 She straightened her garments and twisted her hair 
 
 And deftly in every respect made repair 
 
 While sidelong she glanced with her eyes. 
 
 They talked and dallied the hours away 
 
 As they strolled through a shadowy grove 
 
 And he whispered words that a young man will say 
 
 When alone with a riiaid on a propitious day. 
 
 Yes, they simply were falling in love. 
 
 They parted at eve and greeted with joy 
 At the grove in the sparkling morn, 
 He gave her a pearl he had won at dawn 
 In a wagered race with a forest faun, 
 Her beautiful breast to adorn. 
 
 She praised his great triumph, with blushes and smiles 
 She gave him a generous kiss. 
 Their days were an ecstatic madness it seems, 
 Their slumber just thrilled with superlative dreams 
 And their life was a picture of bliss. 
 
'Till one day came the Triton of wondrous mien 
 
 Like a breeze through the bowery vault 
 
 In search for the Naiad neglected of late 
 
 His love for the mermaid had suffered its fate, 
 
 Their temperaments were at fault. 
 
 His hair a green tangle of sedges and grass, 
 
 His garments a clutter of reeds, 
 
 While his skin was as white as the star-shine at night 
 
 Naught escaped the swift search of his eyes burning 
 
 bright 
 And his limbs were for valorous deeds. 
 
 He stopped his career at sound of a song 
 
 And barkened to voices that rang. 
 
 For the lovers sat there thigh to thigh, ear to ear, 
 
 A-singing their song, never dreaming of fear 
 
 And these are the words that they sang : 
 
 70 
 
Oh, it's Love makes the World go 'round, dear, 
 It's Love makes the World go 'round ; 
 Some think it is money that turns the gears, 
 Some think it spins faster if driven by fears 
 But Love is the petrol that whirls every spoke. 
 That kicks up the dust and puffs out the smoke 
 And it's Love, Love, Love that makes pain a joke. 
 For it's Love makes the World go 'round. 
 
 Oh, it's Love makes the World go 'round, dear, 
 It's Love makes the World go 'round; 
 Some think it's religion and some say it's work 
 But Love prays and toils and never will shirk, 
 It builds all our temples, it crowds all our marts. 
 It rears all the babies, then troubles their hearts. 
 And it urges us up in most difficult arts 
 
 For it's Love makes the World go 'round. 
 
 Triton's fair, puzzled forehead was clouded with hate 
 
 As he pounced on our hero with glee 
 
 And he yelled (Who is this that sits with you. Sis?) 
 
 (Was he trying to flirt? Did he offer to kiss?) 
 
 And she said with the look of an innocent miss ; 
 
 (He's an absolute stranger to me). 
 
 71 
 
Cl^ere (0 0o (Boh but (0oli 
 
 A painted medicine man stood up in the midst of a 
 
 buckskinned throng, 
 He grunted his grunt, he danced his dance, he chanted 
 
 his mystic song, 
 The feathered warriors nodded approval for his wail 
 When he uttered favoring omens of success for their 
 
 bloody trail. 
 They gave him food and raiment, they gave him of 
 
 praise full meed 
 And he reaped a mighty harvest as the fruit of his 
 
 little seed. 
 
 The Albert coated clergyman stood by his carven chair 
 He preached, he prayed, he chanted and tossed his 
 
 prophetic hair, 
 The broadclothed and sealskinned sinners listened in 
 
 smiles or tears 
 Whenever he gave them food for hope or rasped their 
 
 tender fears. 
 They gave him house and comfort, of gold a goodly 
 
 store 
 And in due time a week or so he preached and garnered 
 
 more. 
 
 72 
 
The sons of men are brother fools, yea by the strength 
 of kin, 
 
 They pay the leech to suck their blood and take his 
 word for sin 
 
 And this is right and this is crime and this is life or 
 death 
 
 And he claims eternal happiness as the prize for well- 
 spent breath. 
 
 Yea some for coin forgive a sin and some for coin 
 will pray 
 
 And lift a soul from the pain of Hell to the light of 
 celestial day. 
 
 The sons of men are brother fools and their good 
 
 blood soaks the sod 
 Because their surpliced medicine men claim Allah is 
 
 not God, 
 Because the God of the buckskinned throng, the God 
 
 of the boundless plain 
 Is not the God that saved the world at the price of one 
 
 man's pain. 
 Because Jehovah is not Zeus and Christ is never Allah 
 Ten thousand million thirst in Hell or drink in old 
 
 Valhalla. 
 
 n 
 
For what know they of the mitre better than that 
 
 we know? 
 If faith of numbers telleth true to which faith shall 
 
 we go? 
 There can be but one maker of the struggling sons 
 
 of Earth, 
 There are different shades but not of blood and the 
 
 same is their form and birth. 
 All men are equal before The God, greatest as well 
 
 as least 
 Has the love of the One Great God as well as the 
 
 best-taught priest. 
 So men of the wrinkled Earth stand up, bury the 
 
 thirsting knife, 
 Know this, that you are brothers as one God gave 
 
 you life. 
 Take you the Cross and the Crescent, the Unleavened 
 
 Bread and the Bowl 
 With all the rest and bury them well in the deep sea's 
 
 blackest hole, 
 Break ye the bonds that fetter souls to the long robes 
 
 of a priest 
 And join in triumphant unison, the West with the 
 
 ancient East, 
 From plain and wood and valley shout till the moun- 
 tains nod 
 There is no God but one God and that God is our God. 
 
 74 
 
? 
 
 Why stand ye on the mountain top, tip-toe, to reach 
 
 thy God? 
 Why lift thy voice that he may heed thy prayer? 
 Why look ye toward the stars to seek his face? 
 Know ye that God is there? 
 
 Within thy darkened chamber, upon thy bended knee, 
 Why whisper prayers with pale averted face? 
 Doth thy God dwell within thy petty domicile 
 To sanctify thy hiding place? 
 This God thou prayest to that heeds thy prayer 
 Is He an entity that thou canst own? 
 Or some vast spirit, incomparable, remote and infinite, 
 Not to be seen or known? 
 Is there one God without, within, above, below, 
 
 around? 
 Not all the temples on a thousand hills 
 Could make a habitation for the Infinite 
 Or priesthood alter what he wills. 
 Is God the spirit of the universe that actuates the 
 
 planets in their course? 
 The animating essence of all life the fountain head 
 
 and origin of force? 
 The cause and substance of all things that are, the 
 
 Present, Past and Future his long life. 
 Is everything, that is, a part of God, evolving destiny 
 
 the God like strife? 
 Is such thy God? 
 
 75 
 
Eternal am I. From the very Prime 
 A part of Cosmos and a strand in Time. 
 
 I have glowed in the mist of a comet, 
 
 I have flamed in the light of a star, 
 
 I have spun round the Sun on a limitless run 
 
 And have traced endless space from afar. 
 
 I have floated in clouds o'er the mountain, 
 
 I have flourished as grass on the hill, 
 
 I have fed the lean pack that followed my track 
 
 And have lapped the warm blood of my kill. 
 
 I have posed as a rock, as a flower, as a brute 
 And now I can pose as a man, 
 
 I have played every part without choice, without art. 
 In a wonderful geodic plan ; 
 
 A part of me is the Ocean, a part of me is the Air, 
 A part is Earth, a part is Fire and all of me is Prayer ; 
 A prayer of joy and gratitude that in the present day 
 The elements that form me bound Love and Hope 
 with clay. 
 
 n 
 
And when this act is finished and when this course 
 
 is run 
 I'll still be there as dust and air upon a clinkered Sun; 
 Waiting the call to action 
 Though cold as a fossil snail, 
 All of me eyes, all of me ears, 
 With a voice to answer the hail. 
 I will burst to gas and rage as fire 
 At the crash with a clinkered mate 
 And in the sky will flare anew 
 The sign of a deathless fate ; 
 On, on through unnumbered ages to write the tale 
 
 again 
 Of a whirling cloud, of a shining star, of a world of 
 
 brutes and men. 
 
 A part of me is the Ocean, a part of me is the Air, 
 A part is Earth, a part is Fire and all of me is Prayer, 
 That through the coming ages the elements in me 
 May have the power in each great hour 
 To Love and Hope and See. 
 
 n 
 
(0Ot)jS 
 
 When but a child I had a god that mostly ruled at 
 
 night 
 He held my soul by terror and his worship was of 
 
 fright, 
 I never saw his features or heard his awful voice, 
 I never would have served him if there had been a 
 
 choice. 
 He often hid beneath my bed or stood behind my 
 
 chair 
 And I know his hands were frequently just clutching 
 
 at my hair. 
 He crept beneath the sidewalk and could come 
 
 through a crack 
 And I would be so frightened I would run and not 
 
 look back. 
 He never did me any harm but then you know he 
 
 might 
 And I enjoyed no safety but when mother held me 
 
 tight. 
 
 The theology of childhood made me a trembling slave 
 For the bogie god would get me if I didn't just behave. 
 
 Then came a troop of brighter gods, companions of 
 
 my youth. 
 They were human-like and natural and full of life 
 
 and truth, 
 
 78 
 
They were beautiful and perfect and almost house- 
 top tall 
 And just about as pallid as the marbles in the hall. 
 They talked and loved and wrangled and did just as 
 
 I did, 
 Their presence gave me pleasure, I was downcast 
 
 when they hid. 
 They understood my longings and Jove the sky would 
 
 smash 
 If I had to miss the circus because I lacked the cash. 
 They never answered any prayers but their sympathy 
 
 was mine 
 And I think I kept them busy pretty nearly all the 
 
 time; 
 Minerva'd frown and Juno'd pout and Venus just 
 
 would prance 
 When I could not go with Nellie to the social and 
 
 the dance. 
 
 But Oh, the gods of youth have fled, they hold adults 
 
 in scorn 
 They have vanished like the hoar-frost in the sun of 
 
 early morn. 
 
 And now another god has come. No man his face 
 
 may see. 
 Like sunshine on the prairie, like mist upon the sea, 
 
 79 
 
He fills the utmost heavens and his name inspires 
 
 with awe 
 For the title that men give him is inscribed as Cos- 
 mic Law. 
 I feel his ample power and am humble as the clay 
 Amazed at the achievements of his mighty yesterday. 
 I watch the stars rush flaming throughout the realms 
 
 of space, 
 I note the tiny hairbell flowering in the shady place, 
 I feel the sea a-breathing and sum the desert's sand 
 And am faint, exhausted, weary just to think that all 
 
 was planned. 
 I count for naught in import, I count for naught in 
 
 might, 
 I am only one of billions that have struggled toward 
 
 the light, 
 The Law provides my pleasure and if I suffer pain 
 It is because I cross the Law and I must try again. 
 
 Such is the god of my to-day and I but stand aghast 
 When I think the Future will disclose more wonders 
 than the Past. 
 
 I hear there is another God will cheer my latter day. 
 He'll take me by my feeble hand and lead me on the 
 way; 
 
 80 
 
Or coming to me as I faint, above me gently bend 
 And turn the glass when wasting sands are nearly 
 
 at the end. 
 But then comes a low whisper that all the gods are 
 
 One 
 And the protean illusions show how well His will is 
 
 done: 
 The timid childhood's bogie god just answered like 
 
 a charm 
 To keep me safe and well in place and guarded from 
 
 all harm, 
 The marble gods taught Beauty and Strength and 
 
 Love and Life 
 And inspired me for the action of the future days of 
 
 strife, 
 The mighty Spirit of all space, the God of Law and 
 
 Light, 
 Evolved in me a wish to learn of everything aright. 
 When my old heart shall thrill with hope and know 
 
 no thought of fear, 
 And when an angel tells me that happiness is near, 
 When the mirage of turrets prove that I no longer 
 
 roam, 
 The rustle of a Gabriel's wings will hail the wanderer 
 
 home. 
 
 81 
 
Whence are we? Why and whither? is raised the 
 
 human cry. 
 Why do we live? Why struggle? Why suffer and 
 
 why die? 
 What is the goal we're seeking? What is the lofty 
 
 aim? 
 Why in our breasts is quenchless hope that everlasting 
 
 flame? 
 
 Man sits in meditation profound, prolonged and vain, 
 Man seeks to gain in merit through self-inflicted pain, 
 Man bows before his idols and man lifts high his gods 
 And spreads his sacred carpets upon more sacred sods. 
 There lies a fallen Moloch kissing a holy clod. 
 There is a ruined temple deserted of its god. 
 There is a broken idol, there an abandoned shrine, 
 And there a leaning Crucifix, the latest Hope of Time. 
 Below among the peoples a myriad hands they raise. 
 Some held in supplication and some in proffered praise 
 And some thrust forth in frenzy and some are clasped 
 
 in prayer 
 And some are old and grimy and some are young and 
 
 fair. 
 Some clenched in wild defiance, some asking to be led. 
 Some holding gold and jewels while some are begging 
 
 bread. 
 
 82 
 
A gloved one sways a scepter, a pale one holds a cross 
 And some wield bloody weapons and some are filled 
 
 with dross, 
 And some are puffed from gluttony and some are 
 
 shrunk from wine. 
 And some are strong and some are weak and some 
 
 display no sign, 
 And some are joined in friendship and some are 
 
 clasped in love 
 While a baby's hands in its mother's arms are lifted 
 
 high above. 
 
 Above the throng of nations beyond all human ken 
 Where reigns the day eternal, beyond the thoughts 
 
 of men, 
 There moves through light supernal on to the distant 
 
 goal 
 The face of That Which Sees The End, That Com- 
 prehends The Whole. 
 Distant, unchanged, unswerving through ages past 
 
 and gone, 
 Remote, unaltered, purposeful through ages yet unborn 
 The eyes of Destiny gaze calm upon the distant scope 
 And neither falter, fear and fail nor hasten, smile and 
 
 hope. 
 Such is and ever has been and always will remain 
 With nothing that can lessen and naught that counts 
 
 83 
 
With purpose full and final, determined and complete 
 The face of That Which Sees The End and knows 
 naught of defeat. 
 
 Seek not to solve the riddle, seek not to pierce that 
 
 ken, 
 Do but the best within thy scope and live and die 
 
 like men. 
 Not one is of great moment before that calm, set face 
 And finite man cannot define the welfare of the race. 
 Still this much has been granted, the ages write it 
 
 plain ; 
 That which was lost was worthless and what survives 
 
 is gain. 
 The best shall never perish. The peerless wins a mate 
 And joy and smiles must triumph above the rule of 
 
 Hate, 
 That Worthy Sons of Worthies shall have worthier 
 
 children still 
 Until perfected Man shall stand on Time's remotest 
 
 hill. 
 
 84 
 
Cuttiusi 
 
 A LAY OF ANCIENT ROME 
 
 Listen, friends, unto a story of brave days of old 
 When a human heart and a human hand were valued 
 more than gold. 
 
 Why rush so fast the surging crowd 
 
 Adown the hillside shouting loud? 
 
 Is Rome on fire? What can it be? 
 
 Mayhap the news of victory 
 
 By breathless courier on spent steed 
 
 Draws forth the crowd from beds of need, 
 
 Where languishing in torturing strife 
 
 With fever burning out their life 
 
 The noble and the low now lie. 
 
 Perhaps a foe is on the way 
 
 Hoping that Rome in her dismay 
 
 At prodigy and curse and plague 
 
 May fall before their traitor league. 
 
 Perchance in panic, wild with fright 
 
 Their friends forgotten in the sight 
 
 Of the unburied dead so nigh 
 
 To those who only hope to die, 
 
 They flee the city, flee the might 
 
 Of gods that only reign to smite. 
 
 85 
 
On toward the forum push the throng 
 
 Of mingled life, the weak and strong, 
 
 The rough, plebeian, brown with moil 
 
 As where the Sun on fruitless soil 
 
 Burns down and barren of the grass 
 
 Is cursed and curses all who pass. 
 
 The rich patrician dull with wine 
 
 Like some huge oak of Apennine, 
 
 That grows and towering towards the skies 
 
 Scatters its acorns where they die 
 
 Till smitten by the tempest's shock 
 
 It moulders useless on the rock. 
 
 The huge barbarian in whose grasp 
 
 Last eve was heard the dying gasp 
 
 Of that great cat whose spotted hide 
 
 In Afric's jungles oft is spied. 
 
 Pushes amid the struggling crowd 
 
 In civic garb with curses loud, 
 
 Onward they stream, a living sea 
 
 Of human life, the slave and free, 
 
 The great, whose brow in thought is bowed 
 
 And burdened with state cares, the proud 
 
 In jeweled garb a trophy brought 
 
 From Veii where some client fought 
 
 And mothers clasping close their child 
 
 Skirt the dense throng with faces wild. 
 
 86 
 
Before the Vestal temple hear 
 The startling din of clanging spear, 
 Of clashing arms, of piercing cry 
 And see the smoke that rolls on high. 
 Twelve priests in arms, with shields of brass, 
 Whirl in wild dance and as they pass 
 With chanting song, each beats his shield 
 Till fainting all at length have reeled 
 To the rough stones and in their cars 
 Are borne away the priests of Mars. 
 
 In spotless robes a numerous band 
 Of youths, each bearing in his hand 
 A silver censor, gently swinging 
 And as they follow they are singing 
 To Mars, the terrible in war. 
 
 But lo, the priests, the rattling car, 
 
 The smoke of incense gently burning 
 
 Are passed as dreams and the great yearning 
 
 Of a cursed people looks on high 
 
 Where a great cloud hangs in the sky 
 
 And timid faces grow more pale 
 
 And bursting hearts scarce hold the wail. 
 
 A word of sympathy would free. 
 
 87 
 
A silence reigns, all strain to see 
 The noble form, the troubled face 
 Of Sextus there on the judgment place. 
 The Consul, Sextus, hear the voice 
 The people's consul, the people's choice. 
 
 The pain, the despair, the hope, the dismay 
 
 Winged with that name arose on that day 
 
 A prayer to omnipotent Jove not to man. 
 
 A people looked up through a heaven-wrought plan 
 
 Of famine, of flood, of fever and worse 
 
 Of anger divine and the threatening curse 
 
 Of their city's destruction by earthquake and fire 
 
 To a mortal who trembled himself to aspire 
 
 To supplicate Jove, to search out and appease 
 
 With suitable offering the wrath that he sees. 
 
Then Sextus rose from the curule stool, 
 
 The people hushed as he raised his hand, 
 
 His face was pallid, his hair was wild 
 
 And anxious the eye that had ever been mild 
 
 As he gazed with tears on the eager band. 
 
 "Comrades, Romans, the word has come 
 
 From far-away Cumae the message is here, 
 
 The gods that dwell o'er heaven's high dome 
 
 Have sent the word how to save our home, 
 
 So hark to the words of the Sibyl drear." 
 
 Then up stood Celer, the swiftest of men, 
 
 Great were the deeds this man had done, 
 
 He had passed his foes, crossed mountain and fen 
 
 Till he reached the dame in her fateful den 
 
 And he told how the sacred word was won. 
 
 "The night was dark save the lurid glare 
 That hung o'er the fearful mountain's crest, 
 The path was steep, the way was bare 
 And wild the rocks as hide the lair 
 Of the monster cat or the eagle's nest. 
 
 "Up and on we rushed apace, 
 
 I followed the flying feet of the hag 
 
 Through canyons as dark as the realms of space. 
 
 My only light was the witch's face 
 
 And the dull red glow of the topmost crag. 
 
 89 
 
"O'er beds of lava she led the way. 
 Where a mighty chasm barred the pass 
 She took the leap without dismay 
 And shrieked a curse at my delay 
 When I faltered with fear like a timid lass. 
 
 "Up and on to a cave's dark mouth 
 
 Where in secret chambers she holds her spell, 
 
 Where the essence of life renews her youth 
 
 And the odors exhaled make her speak the truth 
 
 As they rise in clouds from a bottomless well. 
 
 "To an inner chamber she strode away, 
 
 The winding passage hid her form. 
 
 There she breathed the spirit of prophecy 
 
 And her shrieks the will of Jove convey, 
 
 This she screamed while the frenzy within was warm 
 
 " 'The dearest treasure that Rome doth know, 
 Consider it long, consider it well, 
 Down deep in the chasm of death must go 
 While the crashing walls shall bury it low 
 And the thunder boom its knell.' " 
 
 90 
 
In silence the multitude listened until 
 
 His words had been finished and speechlessly still 
 
 They stood as though dumb and silence was pain, 
 
 Like the lull in a storm that sweeps over the main, 
 
 Or the space twixt the lightning's bright blinding flash 
 
 And the fearful relief that comes with the crash 
 
 Of the thunder, they stood till a voice 
 
 That seemed scarcely human, gave breath to a choice, 
 
 "Gold !" it shrieked, as a miser might cry in a dream 
 And a shudder of terror swept wide at the scream 
 But the spell had been broken, Hope rose amain, 
 *'Gold, gold," the crowd shouted again and again. 
 
 Sextus arose from his curule stool, 
 The people hushed and the wind blew cool. 
 The wavering cloud of sulphury smoke 
 That rose in a column and spreading broke 
 In a canopy dense o'er the neighboring slope 
 Seemed blacker grown. The chasm of death 
 Poured forth midst rumblings its pestilent breath 
 In ampler volume. Quiet once more 
 At the voice of the Consul succeeded the roar 
 That had burst like the surge of the sea in the shock 
 Where frantic it breaks on the black looming rock, 
 As the silence that follows the deafening roar 
 While the white spray falls flecking the green sinking 
 floor 
 
 91 
 
Of the outrushing wave, such, such was the space 
 E'er he spoke. Each pallid face 
 Was strained with attention, a volume of prayer 
 Was sent up from the desperate multitude there 
 For friends, home, and nation, each upturned cheek 
 Uttered more in its muteness than pontiffs could speak. 
 ''Friends, Gold has been chosen. The treasure of old 
 That was saved from the Goths is all precious gold 
 And lies in the vaults, bring it forth, bring it forth, 
 And tear yonder milestone of fabulous worth 
 From betwixt the firm stones and jewels as bright 
 As the stars of the heavens that glisten at night. 
 Bring them forth, bring them forth and the spirits 
 
 that sit 
 Provoked at our folly perchance may see fit 
 To smile on our offering and glancing benign 
 On our rich sacrifice refulgent may shine, 
 The plague cause to cease, the Tiber subside 
 And close the vast pit that is here yawning wide." 
 
 92 
 
In his hand he upheld to their vision a gem 
 
 That was fit to have shone in a god's diadem. 
 
 Far, far in the East where the blue waters dance 
 
 Rocked by odorous breezes, a diver by chance 
 
 Found it deep in the sea and to Troy's ancient king 
 
 Sent it up as a gift and he in a ring, 
 
 To that hero, his son, godlike Hector of old. 
 
 Gave the jewel set deep in the ruddy bright gold 
 
 From Araby's mountains, and down through the years, 
 
 A witness of pleasures, a witness of tears, 
 
 A forfeit to monarchs, a gift to the brave, 
 
 A reward to his valor, he willingly gave 
 
 It up in his wild, anxious, patriot love 
 
 As a sacrifice worthy of thundering Jove. 
 
 To the chasm, that yawning a bottomless seam, 
 
 Poured forth its black column of sulphur and steam. 
 
 He strode and upon the dark brink of the trench. 
 
 Mid the shadows of smoke and the pestilent stench. 
 
 He stood for a moment, his white, upturned face 
 
 Encircled by clouds in that terrible place 
 
 Shone like the face of the dead on the wave 
 
 E'er it sinks to a watery, fathomless grave ; 
 
 His hand was outstretched o'er the chasm of night 
 
 And the gem of the ages flashed last in the light. 
 
 93 
 
A shudder as when through the sparkling sky 
 Sweeps a fierce burning meteor blinding the eye, 
 Man stands and awaits with short, bated breath, 
 The shock of its falling or worse still his death 
 And arouses himself from the swoon of his fright 
 To look tremblingly out on the bright, starry night. 
 So the multitude stood with pale, dewy brows, 
 Here whispering prayers, there murmuring vows 
 But no tremors of Earth, no rumblings deep 
 Add fear where they tremble or tears where they weep, 
 For the gift was not that in which Romans rejoice. 
 Grim, unsatisfied gods had rejected the choice 
 And with souls terror-stricken, hearts ready to burst, 
 They looked on the strange, smoking pit as at first. 
 
 94 
 
On that dread stillness rose the clattering beat 
 Of horses' hoofs that flying free and fleet, 
 With clang of arms and with wild ringing neigh 
 Burst through the crowd and down the narrow way. 
 
 As that mad stream 
 That takes its source within a glacier's seam 
 Mid Alpine heights, twixt the high-polished wells 
 Of adamant leaps downward to the falls 
 An emerald flood, embossed with foam, the way 
 Broken with rocks bedewed with icy spray. 
 So came the steed and rider, men gave back 
 As where amid the carnage fierce and black 
 Some armored knight sheds awe 
 And from such might the startled soldiers draw 
 In terror off. On, on before the judgment place 
 He swept where Sextus with pale face 
 And parted lip watched his career and knew 
 That tall dark plume. It seemed but yesternight 
 That plume had passed him in the bloody fight. 
 Where the wild crags hang threatening high 
 Above the narrow pass and the blue mountains stretch 
 Aloft their noble heads, were shepherds fetch 
 Their flocks to pastures verdant from the gore 
 The fierce barbarian shed midst battles' roar, 
 He fought again, surrounded by the steel 
 Of foes triumphant, with his naked heel 
 Against the rock. As when the hunted boar 
 Midst rushy jungles trusts to flight no more, 
 
 95 
 
He stood defiant and the cowering Gaul 
 
 Looked on their dead and feared themselves to fall 
 
 But toppled boulders from the rocky height 
 
 To crush the valor they had failed to smite. 
 
 As where upon some mountain side 
 
 Thunders the fearful, crashing slide 
 
 Of earth and rock, so down the way 
 
 Thundered that warhorse on that bloody day. 
 
 As the swift chamois, beaten by the wings 
 
 Of the strong vulture, panic-stricken flings 
 
 Itself to death, so to the whirling flood 
 
 Foes threw themselves and tinged with Gallic blood 
 
 It swept on to the main. His bleeding side, 
 
 Pierced to the vitals, poured a crimson tide 
 
 And fainting mid the heaps of dead he fell 
 
 While that dark plume the Romans loved so well 
 
 Nodded above him. 
 
 Hark, the rider speaks : 
 "Fathers and Tribunes, where broad Tiger seeks 
 Between our hills the sea, there I had birth. 
 You know me well. All public pain or mirth 
 You have experienced, in it I have shared. 
 However my comrades suffered I have fared 
 And through these years as in the years of old 
 Rome never gained one friend by using gold. 
 The things that to our city are most dear 
 Are the stout Roman's heart, his sword and spear." 
 
 96 
 
As when the gloomy forests of the North 
 Lashed by the tempests, moan their answer forth 
 Or like the sea amid the rocks and caves 
 At midnight murmuring o'er the many graves 
 Of those who trusting found a waiting bier 
 Of coral reefs with shrouds of sea moss drear, 
 Such was the murmuring of the mighty throng 
 As low and constant and as deep and strong. 
 Each eye was strained where rode the valiant knight 
 Each warrior knew him, all had seen his might 
 Before proud Veii, in the lingering strife 
 His blade had dipped in many a hero's life. 
 
 Above his helm, around that jetty crest 
 A wreath of withered oak leaves hung at rest. 
 His face was dark save where a line of white 
 Marked on his cheek a trophy from some fight. 
 With sword and spear, in armor and with shield 
 He sat, the conqueror from the bloody field. 
 His voice was mellow as he gently spoke 
 Unto his steed that sniffed the rolling smoke 
 And cringed and trembled at the rumblings low 
 And champed and pawed and tossed the foam like 
 
 snow. 
 
 "Peace, Mars, no more we lead 
 The rushing host of charging steed 
 You'll bear me through red fields no more 
 Or fleck your snowy sides with gore, 
 
 97 
 
Long have we labored, ever have we tried 
 In speed and arms to be the Roman's pride, 
 We offer now our gift to yonder hell 
 For our great love of Rome who loves us well.' 
 Then to the sky all black with smoke above 
 He turned his face and to almighty Jove 
 Offered himself, his steed and his good sword 
 Which half unsheathing as he spoke the word 
 Startled the horse that leaping forward fled 
 Toward where the mighty column dread 
 Of rolling smoke and poisonous gas 
 Through the rent stones found ample pass. 
 Six fathoms 'twas from side to side 
 And spouting from its walls so wide 
 Burst a great spring and vapors white 
 Blent with the smoke eclipsed the light 
 Of the bright Sun, like that dark veil 
 That hung o'er Isis cold and pale 
 And her celestial frown or smile 
 Hid from the children of the Nile. 
 On fled the horse and shrilly, wildly neighed 
 With flying reins his rider's voice obeyed. 
 He stretched each sinew to the final task 
 His greatest, grandest effort, best and last. 
 On toward the fearful pit he madly flew. 
 At every leap ten strides he nearer drew. 
 His quivering nostrils dilate, tinged with red. 
 His ears laid back upon his haughty head — 
 
 98 
 
Like a strange bark upon a foreign shore, 
 Unguided, lost, drawn onward mid the roar 
 Of a dark whirlpool, o'er the very brink 
 Topples a moment, then adown the sink 
 With sails all tattered and with stern unhelmed 
 Rushes into the vortex and o'erwhelmed 
 Sinks in the flood. The fearless steed leaped out, 
 *'A11 to the gods" rang a triumphant shout. 
 Down, down they whirl but floating o'er the hell 
 A withered wreath rose, poised and slowly fell. 
 For a brief space were horror and dismay 
 When flashed a bolt that brighter than the day 
 Lit up the forum with its lurid light 
 Stopped blood mid vein and shone on faces white. 
 The lowering clouds above grew strangely bright. 
 The pit was silvered with the heavenly light, 
 Like gods the statues shone in that dread flash 
 When o'er the spot the thunder's deafening crash 
 Burst terrible. The forum rose and fell 
 The sacrifice had won, Jove closed the hell. 
 
 99 
 
The dreams of the Past but foreshadowed 
 
 The deeds that we do in the Now, 
 
 The dramas our Fancy has v^^oven 
 
 Impelled us almost like a vow 
 
 And no work-a-day duties should hold us 
 
 So visions can never enfold us, 
 
 Let the Poppies of Youth deck your brow. 
 
 101 
 
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