A* .* vP*3 A o <^ V^ ^<> -^ ^oV" SING THE SOUTH OH. THE FLOWER-BORDERED WAYS. BONNY WAYS O' JUNE.— PAGE 199. BY Judd Mortimer Lewis 1 5 1 I Z.S 1 HOUSTON, TEXAS J. V, DEALY COMPANY 1905 f XI o / ^ Copyright, 1905, by JuDD Mortimer Lewis Published, November, 1905 To the plain, every-day man, the man who believes that a tow-headed baby, a sweet, innocent girl, and a young mother are the most beautiful things in the whole world; the man to whom the child instinctively turns with arms outstretched for him to ''take," from whom the stray dog does not shrink in expectation of a kick; the man, who when "the supper things" are put away, sits down with his wife at his elbow, his baby on his knee, and the fear of God in his heart; and to my dear wife and little girls, this book is affectionately dedicated. The cffuthor. PREFACE. During the past few years, Mr. J. M. Lewis has conducted a column of poetry, whims and fancies in the Houston Daily Post. Humor, wit, squibs and poems have flowed freely from his facile pen, and the product has been accepted with appreciation by his friends and the reading public. Many of his friends whose fancies have been pleased and whose hearts have been moved by the delicate spirit of his poems, have thought that they should not be left to the precarious existence of memory and the scrap-book, and have accordingly prevailed ^pon Mr. Lewis to collect some of these wandering whims of fancy and to print them into a book. Literature is the best and surest way in which to express and transmit the thoughts of the mind, the sympathies of the spirit, the philosophies of life, and the aspirations of the soul;, and poetry is the most perfect flower in the gardens of literature. From the beginning men have sung of hope and despair, of love and hate, of peace and war, of faith and doubt, of good and evil, of life and death; and, so long as the human brain shall think, and the human heart shall feel, and the human fancy shall dream ix X PBEFACE. and hope, so long will men sing the exultant notes of their gladness or the despairing wail of their sor- row. From a multitude of themes about which he has written, Mr. Lewis seems most to love those that re- late to childhood and to nature, and the poems in this little volume relate to those themes. Indeed, his kin- ship to the sights and scenes and sounds of nature, and his responsive sympathies with the sentiments clustering around childhood, are the predominant characteristics of his verse. The poems gathered into this book reveal a spirit in unison with the laws of life, at peace with all man- kind, in touch with the ennobling forces of nature, and attuned to the sweetest harmonies that pervade the human heart. They are not marred by the minor notes of despondency or pessimism. They are keenly alive with the spirit of hope and of love — ^the flower and fragrance of life. They are ennobling by their appeal to the affections, their touch with the spiritual, their kinship with the purity and sweetness of child- hood, and their aspiration for the better things in life. I am sure their author sends them forth on a mis- sion of symapthy, and hope, and love. ^S^y^^^^k^iy^ (^^ CONTENTS page Dedication vii Preface IX Creepy .... 1 Four Years Old 2 His Toast 4 To A Bride 6 Hope's Fruition 7 Father's Voice 10 Our Marjorie . 12 A Reverie 15 Remembering 17 Peek-a-boo 18 We Walked Afar 20 The Birth of Romance 22 Boo! 24 A Skipper out of Gloucester 26 Which? .... 30 May Memory .... 32 XI Sll SING THE SOUTH. PAGE k Touch of Nature 34 Get Out .... 87 Mabel .... 38 The Little Orphant 40 Of You 42 A Castle in Spain 43 When I Lay Me Down to S )LEEP 45 Music 48 Woman's Virtue 49 Choosin' Weather 52 Just Eyes . 54 Resignation 56 A Boy's Whistle 57 Brothers . 61 'Neath Jessamine 63 Skeered 64 The Earth 66 Glad for the Years 67 'Lone With God 69 Little Orphant B'eller 72 Over the Hills Away 74 To Trade: A World 76 Paper Dolls 78 Regret 80 That Sweetheart of Mine 81 CONTENTS xiii PAGE By the Stork Special .... 83 When Babe's Asleep . 86 Dad's Girl 88 No Light .... 90 The Lesson .... 92 LULLABYE .... 95 Lonesome 96 When Mary was Sixteen 98 Santa Claus 100 Sunset .... 103 The Orphant 'Sylum Boy 104 Dumpunums 107 Where He's Waiting 110 Hao Shen .... 112 Inevitable 114 Waiting .... 116 Margaret 118 Soul of a Flame 120 Beneath the Lilacs 122 A Weeping and Forgetting 124 Hallowe'en 126 Sing the South 130 Full 0' Brag 132 Bereaved 135 A Vow .... 138 XIV SING THE 80UTH. PAGE O.N-LY You 140 A Gem 142 In Spanish 144 Sweet 146 City Weary 148 Drink 151 Oh, Come To Me Then 158 The Libertine . 154 In Dad's Bed J56 The Bullfrog's Tale 158 Wouldn't You? 16[ Sea-Born Folk 163 A Bug 167 Longing .... 168 Would We Were There , 170 A Song .... 172 Longing For You 174 His Resting 176 Bye-o, Baby 180 A Tie ... 182 The Best Hour 184 Long Ago 186 Longing for Texas 188 Liza .... 190 The Journey 192 CONTENTS XV PAGE Mother-Songs ..... 193 Worried 196 Days '0 June 199 Disappointed 200 A Double Prayer 202 A Good Old World 204 LULLABYE 205 A Smoke 206 Tpie Flags 208 Ray 209 Sweetheart 211 Wanted 213 To The New-Born .... 216 CREEPY. Laugh, clear, and gurgle, Tumble and play ; Kick your pink heels, dear, Get in the way. The world's not for grown-ups, No, not at all ! It's just for wee babies Just learning to crawl. It's just for wee babies. Just all of the time ! Glories and roses And moonflowers climb Up high on the trellis, A-sparkle with dew. To just please the babies And make them say, "Goo !" I'm thinking that heaven Is just for wee girls. And just for boy-babies With tousled gold curls ; Grown-ups will just be there To help them to play ; So laugh, dear, and tumble, And get in the way. 1 FOUR YEARS OLD. My little, laugliing Four-year-old, My dancing, little Beam of gold, You make this old, old heart of me And all the world, brim full of glee; As full as it can hold ! Your little, dancing. Slippered feet. Your lilting, singing Voice and sweet, Make life and work seem simply play. From morning when I go away Till night-time when we meet. Your flying, wind-kissed^ Golden curls. Your laughing lips, The rows of pearls You show in smiling, are to me The rarest, fairest gems that be; 0, best of little girls. 2 [Four Years Old] 0, best of loving, Laughing girls, When evening's crimson Flag unfurls I come expectant up the street, A-listening for your flying feet And tossing yellow curls. 0, little baby Girl, my own, When trying, carking Years have flown. Then may your laugh ring glad and clear. Be just as full of joy and cheer. Dear heart, when you are grown. WOMAN. Oh, lovely woman ! man's great bane And joy ! You ne'er can pall ! Source of all pleasure and all pain And — bless you ! — worth it all ! HIS TOAST. Fill^ fill your slender goblets A-brim with blood-red wine, And drink a toast with laughter To maids with eyes a-shine; Aye, toast your absent sweethearts With laugh and lilt and swing; Fill high the brimming goblets And let your accents ring. Aye, fill the brimming beakers, And think of gold-crowned head ; And think of blue eyes' shining. And curving lips and red; And toast, each one, his sweetheart. And drink the bumper down. To maids with blue or gray eyes, Or maids with eyes of brown. 4 [His Toast] But fill for me no bumper Of ruby-colored wine; My thoughts are far a-faring In paths that once were mine,, Back of the years of trying. Back of the sweetest smile A sweetheart ever gave me, To years of otherwhile. Back of the clink of glasses And friendships that are mine. Back of lips curved in laughter And youthful eyes a-shine. Where a fern-bordered hollow Gives up a bubbling spring, And where, in beechen shadows, The robin redbreasts sing. My soul, by some enchantment, Harks back to other days. To one who led me upward Through wondrous, untried ways; To one of rough endearments. In homely garments clad; Drink, you, each to his sweetheart, I drink to dear old Dad. TO A BRIDE. Happy is the bride whom the sun shines on, And happy today are you ; May all of the glad dreams you have dreamed In all of your life come true ; 'May every good there is in life Step down from the years to you. There's nothing so sweet as a maid is sweet, On the day she becomes a bride; Oh, the paths that ope to the dancing feet ! Oh, the true love by her side! Oh, the gray old world looks a glad old world, And its fields of pleasure wide. Because you are good and are sweet and fair, And because you are young and true. May every day of your life be glad, As glad as today for you ; May all of the glad dreams you have dreamed In all of your life come true. 6 HOPE'S FEUITIOK In the muck and slime of that ancient time, When earth from chaos hurled Took shape and form and rode the storm Through countless eons whirled, On its crumbling crust of cosmic dust I crawled a created thing ; A creature vast from the black ooze cast, Beyond all imagining. And my eyeless face searched the moonless space, Though the voice of my woe was dumb. And I loathsome sprawled, or all lonesome crawled. And waited for you to come ; But you came not near, and for very fear Of the lonesome vast profound, I died, and sank in the noisome dank. While Time resumed her round. 7 8 SING THE SOUTH, Till the ages vast from their dark womb cast Me again upon the earth; From my hooded eyes I beheld arise The sun, and the season^s birth; And I viewed my length and essayed my strength In the garish light of day, With the shadow vast my huge bulk cast I gamboled about in play. When the day was fled, and my shadow dead, I whimpered for what I knew Was still due to me from my destiny. But the ages brought not you; And for you I wept till my great life crept From very longing away. And my bones were lost where the ages tossed Them in mesozoic clay. Through creations strange down the grooves of change I have searched for you afar, In the deep green sea I have sought for thee, Have ranged through the ambient air; In reincarnations and transformations By the sacred river's brink, 'Neath the Sphinx's smile by the winding Nile Where ships of the desert drink. [Hope^s Fruitio7i] From the primal slime of the birth of Time, When my sobbing, pulsing breath Moaned to my heart for my other part Till the longing brought me death; InTow my earth-chained soul draws near the goal Whose winning shall give me thee. And the light divine of your eyes shall shine Reward to my constancy. Where the lilac's bloom wafts its sweet perfume Through the twilight's purple shine. At your timid feet I shall kneel, my sweet. Shall clasp you and call you mine ; In the joyous bliss of a clinging kiss Our souls in a swift transition Shall become as one, and, their questing done. Shall attain Hope's sweet fruition. FATHEE'S VOICE. Sometimes I wake from dreams and wonder where I am for just a moment; then a lisp Comes trembling to me : "Papa, are yon there ?" Just those four words in just the faintest wisp Of a wee voice, a wee and frightened tone; And I make haste to answer: "Yes, dear, why?" And then she says : "Me finked me was alone -^ Her voice trails off into a drowsy sigh. Poor little girl ! she sees no light or spark. And feels strange, shapeless forms around he? creep ; But when her father's voice comes through the dark She knows that she is safe, and sinks to sleep ; And though the dark-time dangers are as real And dreadful, too, as aught on earth could be. She hears her father's voice and seems to feel That all that threatened now is bound to flee. 10 [Father^s Voice'] 11 Our Father ! who art with us in the dark And in the light, whose presence wraps us round; Though darkness shuts us in and no faint spark iDoth guide our feet; and whither we are bound, Or whence we come, is hidden from our sight So that we merely grope our way along, We feel Thy presence guiding us aright. And paths, erstwhile all dark, break into song. And when life's bedtime becks us to our rest We falter at the dark that threats us then ; Like frightened children we do do our best To stay awake and ope our eyes again; And in fear's perfect ecstasy we shriek : "Our Father ! Oh, our Father ! Are You there ?" And calmly through the dark Your accents speak, And so we bid farewell to every care. So, oh, my little girl, on your old dad You lean, and go to sleep in sweet content; And dad knows how you feel for he has had The self-same feeling; his own strength all spent, He oft has bowed him dowTi in bitter woe, When all seemed dark and life was just a spell Of bitterness — and then — God's voice ! and, lo ! Life's darkness turned to light ! and all was well. OUR MARJOEIE. When your wee head lies heavy on dad's arm, And eyes with all the mischief gone away Look listless up, dad feels a wild alarm, And all the prayers his lips can frame and say, All torrent like, speed upward to the throne ; Prayers for your speedy weal, the old sweet smile ! Oh, yon have filled my heart so full, my own ! And you have been here such a little while ! I sit and hold your playthings, yes I do. And sadly think of gamies we used to play; Of how you laughed when we played peek-a-boo — And just to think, all this was yesterday ! And now we walk on tiptoe to and fro, And on our knees drop down beside your cot; And you — you look with eyes that do not know, And your pale brow does fright us ^tis so hot. 12 [Our Marjorie] 13 Last night I walked with you, my Marjorie, Clasped in my arms, your cheek against my own. And, oh, my baby girl ! sweet soul of me ! My heartstrings writhed beneath your plaintive moan! I know, my little girl, you wondered why That dad, who held you close, who loves you so. Could bear to hear your plaintive little cry And would not ease your pain ! You cannot know ! You cannot know, nor guess, what dad would do — Two hearts, two souls, are wrapped up in your weal ! Oh, give us yesterday and peek-a-boo ! — If tears could ease the pain your wee limbs feel Then had your first wee cry brought quick relief ; Our ready-gushing tears brought back again The smiles of erst ! our love engendered grief Had soothed your fevered brow and eased your pain. And now I hold your playthings in my hands — Your rubber doll and cat, your bouncing ball — And something grips my heart with crushing bands Until my eyes are blurred and teardrops fall. 14 SING THE SOUTH. That dad is so impotent, Marjorie, Does give him greater grief than he has known ! Ah, life and all, dear child, he'd give for thee ! Would God that dad could make your pains his own. A EEVERIE. Just a dainty silver clasp, Wrought in Spanish filigree, Lying shyly in my grasp, Thrills my blood with ecstasy ; Just a circlet, perfume laden. Made of softest silken woof. And my mind^s eye sees a maiden ^Mid the smoke wreaths stand aloof. As my eyes grow dim with dreaming. And I yield me to her spell; O^er my mind with fancies teeming Rules this maid intangible. H'and in hand o'er golden meadows. Through wide groves of whispering trees. Where sweet songsters wake the echoes And soft fountains cool the breeze. So we wander nothing heeding In that mild enchanted clime, Where the cares of life, receding, Leave no thought of earthly time. 15 16 SING THE SOUTH. Pity life is not all dreaming, • Fancy's songs e'er being sung, In the enchanted land of seeming We remain forever young. But old age's ruthless finger Draws time's scars across our face; Youthful gleams no longer linger As the years come on apace. With such trifles for a starter, Strange what fancies we beget; Just a maiden's dainty garter And a Turkish cigarette. OUE WORKS. If men are known by their works, The thought through our consciousness steals. That in the fullness of time We shall all be judged by our wheels. REMEMBERING. And ever in the moonlight, As the trumpet-blossom swings, Comes a time of sweet rememb'ring Of old, nnf orgotten things ; Of old, name-carved, spreading beeches, Of old, moonlit, sandy reaches. Of half whispered, half thought speeches. Like a rustle of white wings. Comes the moonpath on the water, Gilding the sea's dread abyss ; Comes the lapping of the ripples. Comes the memory of this ; That, through all the years may measure. Yet my lips have drained the pleasui-e Of life's greatest, grandest treasure. Of first love and love's first kiss. When the moon lights up the prairie Come life's memories to me ; When the rolling, the far-reaching Stirs and ripples like a sea. You may think life's cark and fretting. As life's orb grows near its setting. Crowds my soul to your forgetting, But forgetting may not be. 17 PEEK-A-BOO. Now don't you know it, E3^es-o-blue, That dad can't play at peek-a-boo, And sit up here all night with you ? He can't indeed. Nov/ look here. Miss Stay-up-all-night — Oh, peek-a-boo ! now, that's all right — You're — there ! now duck down out of sight ! What you do need Is something — peek ! oh, peek-a-boo ! Now duck again ! — tucked onto you Eight where you sit ! oh, yes you do ! That's right, now grin ! You star-eyed, laughter-loving mite ! You haven't things adjusted right; Folks are supposed to sleep at night ! And it's a sin 18 [Peek-a-boo] 19 To keep dad dodging back and forth, iSTow jumping up for all he's worth. And losing sleep to give you mirth — Oh, peek-a-boo ! Peek ! ah, there. Eyes ! I see you now ! Why — where — is — Margie, anyhow ? Peek ! there you are ! I thought, I vow, I'd losted you ! What I had started out to say Was, that the proper time to play Was day. Miss Blue Eyes, just plain day; And night time deep Was made for folks like you and me To cuddle down snug as can be, And go to sleep. Oh, Marjorie ! Please go to sleep ! WE WALKED x\FAR. We walked afar along a winding lane That led ns through idyllic country ways; A youth that we thought ne'er would come again Was ours again. As in those far-off days We marveled at the blueness of the skies ; We sought forget-me-nots and laughed with glee; And I, I looked down deep into her eyes, And she, as in those old days, looked at me. Within her bonnet hanging from my arm, Forget-me-nots and buttercups were piled; The rustling grasses caused her mild alarm. As of a snake, then she looked up and smiled— Smiled lifelong trust into my eyes again — And so we walked, our fingers interlaced. Herself, and youth, and me, adown the lane; And gladness walked beside us where we paced. 20 [We Walked Afar] 21 Now some strange cloud effect did catch, her eye ; Now did she stoop to find a hidden bloom; We saw the lazy hawk hang in the sky ; We smelled the woodland jasmine's sweet perfume; All was as it had been ; by some strange spell Our years were fallen from us, and we stood In paths we both had known, remembered well. Ah, youth returned seemed sweet, and life was good! We heard the peacock's cry sound loud and shrill, And soft a breeze did rustle through the trees ; And in the path that curved around the hill The golden-rod climbed upward to our knees; And from above the yellow jasmine hung, And from some hidden nook a mockbird sang. And o'er our heads red trumpet-flowers swung, And 'neath our feet the fresh green grasses sprang. And then we turned us back ; the evening's gloam Hung halo-like about us as we walked ; Afar we saw the shining lights of home. And with the sight age did come back, and stalked Beside us two, and yet we twain were glad; Glad to leave youth, the woodland's solitude ; Glad to fly back to joys youth had not had, As homing pigeons wing back to their brood. THE BIRTH OF ROMANCE. Oh, Edwin, 3^011 ought to just hear the things, The things that my nurse tells me ! Of dreadful old bogies with horns and things, Of big green dragons with horns and wings, "They eat little girls," says she ! "They eat little girls if they don't be good ; Just eat 'em right up," says she ! She says in the daytime they live in the wood. Just a-grindin' their teeth and a-dreamin' of blood, A-dreamin' of blood and me ! And when I am good — though I'm always good — She tells me of warriors bold ; Of knights who go dashing through field and flood Just a-lookin' for dragons that's a-pinin' for blood ; Brave warriors with spurs of gold. 22 [The Birth of Romance] 23 So, Edwin, just think ! if your Katherine — Your Katliie, who loves you so — Should be gobbled right up by the dragon green, Or the worst old bogie that ever you seen, Then, Edwin, what would you do? Would you mount your beautiful Morgan brown. And ride with lance in rest, With a whoop and halloo, ^through atreet and town Till you found out the bogies and rode them down For the maiden that you love best ? If I thought that you would, oh, then you'd see — I want you to come so bad — I would be just as naughty as I could be Till the big green dragon would come for me. Or nursie would wish that he had ! BOO! When you pick up the tidy and say : "Peek V^ Then I lay down my paper, for I know Those mischief-brimming eyes will spring a-leak, And tears of grief will well and overflow If I refuse to play; so I unbend And look, and look, and look, and look for you, And you don^t know that it is all pretend, And, my ! but I get scared when you say : "Boo My ! but I do get scared, and I say : "Oh !" And in my fright sometimes fall on the floor; And now you gurgle, yes, and now you crow ! Until your eyes are fairly brimming o'er; Then, shaking your wee sides, you hide again, While I seek high and low and call to you ; And I can't find you anywhere, and then You jump right out before me and say : "Boo !" 24 [Boon 25 When lamps are lighted, and when night has come. And I pick up my paper for a while, You pluck my sleeve, and I pretend I'm dumb, Until your searching eyes detect a smile; And then it's off ! the paper falls aside, And every place that I can look I do ; But, somehow, I can't find just where you hide, Until I'm scared to pieces by your "Boo !" And, my ! but I get scared ! I tremble so That I fall down and flop like one possessed ! And how you do just shake your sides and crow, And stir me up, until, at your behest, I put my fright behind me and come out Prepared to do as you would have me do; Play hide-and-seek and join you in the rout. And be half scared to death when you say : "Boo !" And, oh, my winsome one ! when old and gray, I lay aside life's games and you are grown; If when I'm old I'm sometimes in the way — You know you may have wee ones of your own — I'd have you not see me as I am then. But as I am while now I romp with you ! Look sometimes back to these dear days again. And think how scared I was when you said : "Boo I" A SKIPPEE OUT OF GLOUCESTER. There's a music in the singin' of the cordage in the wind; There's a rhythm in the growlin' of the seas that break behind ; There's a salt tang in the spindrift when the billows break and comb;, And a fisher out of G-loucester uppin' anchor heads for home. The fish had led us north'ard, east-by-north'ard^ and we lay In a snug Norwegian harbor, some old 'sund-or- other bay, With some forty thousand halibut an' cod down in our hold, An' the seas outside a-frothin' an' the wind a- cuttin' cold. 26 [A Skipper out of Gloucester'] 27 We were nor'-nor^east from Gloucester some four thousand miles an^ more; Nor^ -by-east of the Loffodens on a bleak Norwe- gian shore, Ridin' gently at our anchor to each smooth and roily swell, Waitin^ till the tempest slackened, for the wind was playin' hell. Then the cook brought off provisions an' a letter; how it read Just the skipper knew, who got it, an' somehow he never said ; But I know we upped the anchor an' we broke for open sea In a gale from out the Arctics, an' Loffoden on our lee. So we banged her out and south'ard — banged her down sou' west-by-west ; Every man slept in his oilskins, little handfuls just of rest. An' by day the gale shrieked by us, an' by night it screamed an' moaned. An' our sticks were bent like willows an' our tim- bers creaked an' groaned! 28 SING THE SOUTH. An' we had her dressed for flyin' ! jumbo, jib, fore, main an' all ! An' both tops'ls ! with the halliards fairly snarlin' at the squall ! An' the water smashin' past us — we could touch it on our lee — An' our cat-heads barely showin' now an' then above the sea I An' we trimmed her ! an' we drove her ! she was sailin' on her side ! Two of us lashed to her tiller, an' her canvas spreadin' wide ! An' we crossed an English liner, 'neath her bows, an', 'fore she spoke. She was in our wake an' faded like a ragged wisp o' smoke ! An' we picked up Sable Island, an' above the singin' spar We could hear the breakers boomin' as we crossed the no'theast bar. An' we swung her for Cape Sable, an' we drove her down the coast Like a ghost born out of darkness an' again in darkness lost ! [A Skipper out of Gloucester] 29 Then, great glory ! how we drove her ! till we heard her timbers beg ! West, half-west-by-no'th we drove her ! we was on our homeward leg ! An^ we never eased np on her when we rounded Eastern Point ! An' we banged her into Gloucester like we'd open every joint ! Some four thousand miles of ocean an' a short sixteen- day run ! In a gale that snapped the reef -ties like the crackin' of a gun ! Then the skipper got a message, an' his eyes lit up with joy : "Your old woman's round the house ag'in, an', Cap, this one's a boy !" There's a music in the singin' of the cordage in the wind ; There's a rhythm in the growlin' of the seas that break behind ! There's a salt tang in the spindrift when the billows break and comb, And a skipper out of Gloucester weighin' anchor heads for home. WHICH? Are dreams or mjemories best? I do not know. In dreams I have caressed Your lips, and lo ! You walked beside me there With your tumbled, sun-kissed hair, And you were more than fair — I do not know. If memories or dreams Are sweetest, dear, I do not know. It seems Both bring you near. In memory we tread Through the paths our love once led, With love's blue skies o'erhead — Your tones I hear. 30 [Which?] 31 Are dreams or memories The best to you ? Or do the bitter lees Of cups we knew Embitter every draught Of each cup your lips have quaffed Since the days we loved and laughed And lived, we two? Dreams are far more real It seems to me; Wiping out the griefs I feel And bringing thee — Still they^re fantasies you know; Dreamland's breezes never blow, Never whisper soft and low, And cannot be. While memory brings you back, It brings back thee Down life's perfumed sunset track. It does, to me ; Real days of love and you; Real blossoms decked with dew; Real skies of turquoise blue That used to be. MAY MEMORY. Oh, wine in cut-glass goblets tall, Your thrall is loosed of me; No more do thoughts of wassail call With strength that used to be; I hear a tinkling waterfall Beneath a greenwood tree, And once again the old-timie spring Doth lift its voice and lilt and sing, And send its call to me. Doth lift its voice, and lilt and sing, Its old-time melody ; No more amid the clink and ring Of glass and revelry Do I take part. Gone arms that cling. And eyes, and devilry ! And once again I hear the call Of a remembered waterfall A-lilting come to me. Oh, old remembered wayside spring, Beneath the spreading tree Within whose boughs brown thrushes sing, 32 [Ma^ Memory] S3 Beside whose roots the knee Doth press lush grass, soft as a thing From loom of Araby ; The joy that comes of your far call, Oh, lilting, wimpling waterfall, No wine may bring to me. Oh, days when, Just a little boy, I paused beside the pool. And bent my supple knee with joy To drink its waters cool, And with a glee no years may cloy Went riotous to school ! InTow, with a glee no years may clo}', I drink to you and that glad boy. In water clear and cool. In water clear and cool I drink To memory of you; No wine in carven cups that clink Holds half so sweet a brew ! Oh, tinkling spring of grassy brink A-brim with sparkling dew ! Whenever comes the month of May My mem'ry takes the well-trod way To childhood and to you ! A TOUCH OF NATURE. (News Special.) Fort Worth, Texas, May 14. — One touch of sor- row makes the whole world akin, one touch of hu- man nature makes mankind glorious, one touch of charity softens the hardest heart. That's why East Fifth street, between Rusk and Calhoun, is closed to travel. The little four-year-old daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Dickinson is lying dangerously ill. In- tense quiet is essential for her recovery. The jolting noises of travel on the street in front of the house hindered her progress to health. The situation was laid before the city authorities. As Alexander cut the Gordian knot, so did the city authorities comply with the request to have the street closed to travel. Heretofore streets have been closed on account of improvements being made, presidential parades, street fairs and carnivals, for the laying of pave- 84 THE MORNING-GLORIES ARE DIPPED IN DEW. [A Touch of Nature] 35 ments and a hundred and one other things. But reasons that worm their way into the hearts of man- kind, that are not marred by the jingle of dollars, prompted this last order of the city authorities. And not a single complaint has been nor will a single complaint be registered with the city on account of this section of the street being closed. Oh, baby, that tosses in illness there, With the fever flush on your tender cheek, With fretful toss of the tousled hair. With hands grown listless and accents weak, A city turns from its way for you ; And traffic's insistent, resistless tide Turns wide from the way that it erst surged through, And murmurs a wish as it turns aside. And back from the barrier it would not pass, With noises hushed, goes the ebb and flow Of the city's tide, goes the lad and lass. Goes the older one whose it is to know The charm of the wee, glad clasping hands. Of a little bit of a baby girl; The hurt and woe and love's tightened bands At the fevered cheek and the tousled curl. 36 SING THE SOUTH. For a baby's life has a city's block Been made as still as a country lane. For a baby's life has the jar and shock. And rattle of hoof, and the clank of chain Been banished far ; and the barrier brings The stranger tear to life-hardened eyes, And many a wish and a prayer up wings For sleep to come where the baby lies. For healing sleep where the baby lies To come and press the wee eyelids down, For cooling rest for the fevered eyes, For the kiss of health on the tousled crown; And then the barriers shall swing aside And the rattle and jostle and whizz and whirr Shall resume its way with resistless tide, And the heart of a city be glad for her. Oh, little bit of a baby girl, The morning-glories are dipped in dew, And every morning their blooms unfurl And seem to nod and to wait for you, And city-wide are the prayers they say, The city's people, and all the whirl Of traffic stops or is turned away For your sake, oh, little bit of a girl. GET OUT. Get out where the bayous are shaded and brown. Get out where rose petals are eddying down. Get out where the world wears a dew-spangled crown, Get out, oh, get out, oh, get out of the town — Get out of the town in the morning ! Get out where the ripples run glad in the sun, Get out to the fields where the green billows run. Get out where the forces of nature have fun, Get out, oh, get out to where day is begun, Get out of the town in the morning ! Get out of the town in the morning and hear The birds in the thickets all caroling clear. Where the mocking-bird hollers : "Good morning ! Good cheer V' Where the sky arches clear and where heaven seems near, Get out of the town in the morning ! Get out in the country and be just a boy. Get out and drink deep of the old-fashioned joy. Get out where no trials shall bring you annoy. Where God walks in splendor, and days never cloy. Get out of the town in the morning ! 37 MABEL. Even as we know it is, dear heart, with thee. So shall it be with us ; unleashed and free Our souls shall seek their own, and we shall be Free of the world, and happy, dear, with thee. We watch the jasmine buds of thy delight Where they flare white against the purple night, And the moon-flowers open round and white. And the old mockbird lilts a sweet '^'Goodnight/' And four-o'clocks and morning-glories bloom. And Marechal Niels send far their sweet perfume, And roses, flame-like, rest against the gloom Of the dark night that they cannot illume. These blooms we tend are such, dear, as you knew; Glories and jasmine, sparkling wet vvith dev/; But now, with them, there grows a spray of rue ; A blossom, dear, praise God, you never laiew. 38 IMahel] 39 And when we weep His for ourselves we weep ; For thon art glad the other side of sleep, Where fields of asphodel illimitable sweep ; We know yon are while onr lone watch we keep. Bnt we shall come, freed from earth^s husk, and then We shall be glad, as yon are glad, again ; Shall mount to thee where, now beyond our ken. You smiling wait till Fate shall whisper when. We'll fold thee closer longer we're apart ! Glad — gladder, dear ! for all the woe and smart ! Laughing ! — aye, laughing ! with lips curved and apart ! Our little girl ! dear heart ! dear heart ! dear heart ! THE LITTLE ORPHANT. Seen a little orphant boy, Never had no top ner toy ; Sorter looked at me askance, (He had patches on his pants An' his shirt was big f er him, Hangin' f" m each puny limb Like he was a scarecrow.) Say: He looked at me thissaway. An' he said — an' gin a pause — '^Eeckon that ol' Sandy Claws Kin find me out where I am Since 'at both my pap an' mam Have gone dead; like oncet he did 'Fore I was a norphant kid ?" Derned ol' little shirt-tail tad ! Swear he had me f eelin' bad ! Him 'ithout no paw er maw — Tell ye what — I stopped ter chaw My terbaccer, an', I vum ! Eeckon thet I gulluped some 'Fore I answered — bet I did ! 40 [Th* Little OrpJiant] 41 Derned ol' little shirt-tail kid! ^N I said : "Bud" — Ven give a pause Whilst I worked my denied oV jaws, Thinkin' how IM like ter git Him some boy's duds that 'ud fit; Sorter Buster Brown style suit; Now ain't I th' ol' galoot ! Swear I hadn't no idee That I'd take him home o' me Till the thought jest struck me : "Souse I^' 'N I sez: "Sandy's at my house; You jest come along o' me An' you'll git a Chrismuss tree, An' some oranges an' things." Swear ye'd think we both had wings Hikin' homeward like we did. Me an' that there orphant kid I An' he didn't do a thing But jest dance around an' sing Chrismuss morning ! but, by gee ! He wa'n't half as glad as me ! OF YOU. Last night I dreamed of hollyhocks and you, Of Easter lilies wet with sparkling dew, Of whispering trees whose every tone we knew, And every sylvan path we've wandered through ; But most, oh, most of you! I dreamed of the old bridge o'er the lagoon. Of lapping ripples silvered by the moon. And read with my soul's eyes life's mystic rune. Till all the chords of being swept in tune, And, singing, sang of you ! Of you the sighing branches swaying low. Of you the hidden streamlet's tinkling flow. Of you and all of love one life may know ; Soft beat my heart with rhythmic tone and slow. Of you ; all, all of you ! Light fell the years as crinkled rose leaves fall. Sweetly the birds trilled forth their matin call, Bright gilt the dawn each swaying poplar tall, Sleep fled with night, and dreams and darkness ; all But sweet memories of you ! 42 A CASTLE IN SPAIN. I have builded you, sweetheart, a castle in Spain, And robbed life of its sorrow; you're mine once again ; And we walk down the corridors fancy hath made, Midst columns of jasper and onyx and jade. White — white as your soul — are the garments you wear. White gems nestle close in the coils of your hair. And your voice whispers soft through the corridor's gloom. Where censers, slow swinging, waft sweetest per- fume. And cupids, and psyches, and satyrs and gnomes Disport through the courts amid tropical blooms; And nymphs and mermaidens and tritons are there From porphyry founts tossing gleams in the air. 43 44 SING THE SOUTH. Till musical murniTirs in cadences soft Sweep round us^, and borne by enchantment aloft, Weave spells ^midst a fretwork of amber and gold, Where the dark, fringed and purple, hangs fold upon fold. Dim vistas where lamps alabaster are swung. Where love's gonfalons gay to soft breezes are flung, Stretch away to a chamber enchanted and dim, Whose portals are guarded by bright seraphim. And your couch, lighted up by the twilight's soft gleams, Is woven for you from the fabric of dreams; While sleep, like a mantle, comes borne on the breeze Sweeping cool from the heights of the blue Pyrenees. WHEN I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP. Dear old dad, Fm, oh, so homesick, and Vd give the world to be Back beneath the dear old roof-tree kneeling down beside your knee. Like I used to in my nightie when the day-end shadows fell. And the night came softly creeping o'er the scenes I loved so well. Now I fear I'm almost crying; tears bedim my tired eyes, Oh, for just one hour of childhood and the dear old lullabies ! Just to feel your arms and mother's round my child- ish shoulders creep. As when I in drowsy accents lisped: "I lay me down to sleep." 45 46 SING THE SOUTH. Let the da}^ be e'er so toilsome, when the shades of night have come. Then your face, your face and mother's, smile on me from out the gloom; And the city's dreary clamor and the choking dust and grime, Fading, weave themselves in visions of the home that once was mine. Loud and shrill my boyish whistle echoes from the pine-clad hill As I lure the wary grayling from the pool below the rill, And we battle through the shallows where the eddies curve and sweep. Till, oh, dad ! I get so homesick when I lay me down to sleep ! Don't you think the old hills miss me, miss me just a little, dad? I have lost my old ambitions, all the hopes I ever had! Would you think me weak and wanton if I came back home to you ? Came back home without the glory of the deeds I hoped to do ? [ When I Lay Me Down to Sleep] 47 For my heart is scarred and weary and I've faltered on the way, And my mind keeps harking backward, back to where I used to play; And the eyes that shone so brightly through the years have learned to weep ; And — I long to be at home, dad, when I lay me down to sleep ! PEOBABLY HAD. "He says" — and here the maiden paused And conned the missive o'er — "He says he'd like to ^meet' me. That he's seen my face before." x\nd then her giggling laughter Wiped out all of anger's trace. And she said: "Possibly he's right. That's where I wear my face." MUSIC. It's the "oompah, oompah, oompali/' of the music That a band's a-playin' somewhere down the street, That's a-doin' rag-time stunts along my heartstrings, That's a-pullin' and a-haulin' at my feet ; I'd like ter just head up an' f oiler after, A-takin' of their dust an' steppin' high, An' never look to this way nor to that way At all the folks a-watchin' us go by. It's the ^'^oompah, oompah, oompah," of the music, The flyin' flags an' blarin' of the band, That makes my mind go "oompah, oompah, oompah I" That keeps my feet a-jiggin' where I stand; That makes my mind go swiftly harkin' backward To grind-organs and to bands I used to know; Back to a village street they used to play in; Back to the daisied fields of long ago. It's the "oompah, oompah, oompah," of the music That makes me prick my ears and lift my feet; It's the liftin', liltin' rapture of the music That takes me back to other times as sweet; I hope that when I'm called to go up yonder. And the garment of my soul, this worthless claj^ Is bound for its last restin' place, the music Will go blarin' : "Oompah, oompah !" all the way. 48 WOMAN^S VIETUE. You know I would obey your beck and come If you but looked my way again and smiled 1 With conscience, all but love itself, grown dumb Would loose the clinging fingers of my child ! Leave it and all this better life behind — My happy home ! all I have tried to be ! Ah, love is deaf and dumb, not only blind ! A suppliant today I kneel to thee ! I am a woman — weak as women are ; You are a man ; your heritage is strength ; Go, search ye all the world, or near or far — Ah, where is one would go to such a length As I had gone for thee ? Not one ! not one ! Give me your strength — aye, I am weak indeed! But let 3^our love be as a tale thaf s done ! If you have strength give it for this my need 1 49 50 SING THE SOUTH. You claim you loved me, yet you did not say — You told it not to me — in days agone ! You held my hand a moment — went your way — You in the world and of it ; me alone ! You thought I would await your coming home ? You thought to see the love-light in my eyes ? You thought we'd walk afar and in the gloam Stand hand in hand and watch the white moon rise ? Nay ! and you had such love why hide it me ? My very soul hung palpitant — apoise — My love from my two eyes looked out to thee — Ah, women's hearts are fragile, brittle toys ! You went your way, no word, nor yet a sign ; You broke my heart and knew it not, nor cared ! And I — ^this home, this baby boy, is mine ; Mine the full faith of him whose work I've shared. And now you tell your love ! recall a waltz ! Words that meant naught to you nor yet to me ; Yet you recall them now and call me false ! I — I am false to self, but not to thee ! Yea — help me, God ! — if you say, "Come," I come — Why tear afresh this ever bleeding wound ? Go, go your way and let love's voice be dumb ! My virtue at your feet is lying bound ! [Wom^n^s Virtue] "^ And virtue, to man's honor shall it plead ? She gives her all for love ! What giveth he ? Pray go your way; give not my ravings heed! Have pity — all I ask — pray pity me ! Beck not to me ! nor call ! nor even smile ! Go, you, your way ! pursue life's destined plan ! Let me but keep my vows — devoid of ffuile ! Yet proud that he I loved has proved a man ! BUT IS IT ? Kissless goodnights ! And dream-dispelling morns ! And love's red roses drooped and dead And whose unsheathed thorns Do tear the bosom's core. And the heart, tempest-tossed ! 'Tis better to have never loved Than to have loved and lost ! CHOOSIN' WEATHER. If the weather man 'ud ast me what I wanted, rain or shine, I 'ud say: ^'Oh, mostly sunny; let me have my weather fine ; But," I'd add, "don't cut the rain out, mix a little rain in mine, And jist splash the world with dew drops in the mornin'/' I 'ud say: "Let's have some cloudlets trailin' shad- ders 'crost the green. Let me hear the thunder grumble an' the rain- drops in between. Then a rosy-posy rainbow over-archin' all the scene ! And jist splash the world with dew drops in the mornin'." "Let me hear the children laughin', see 'em weavin' daisy chains ; Let me hear 'em squeal an' huddle gittin' in before it rains, 52 [Choosin^ Weather] 53 Let me see their funny noses flattened out agin the panes ! And jist splash the world with dew drops in the mornin\" "Let us have the yellow sunshine in big patches 'crost our ways. Let us have the splashin^ rain drops, let us have our rainbow days; Make of life a splash of sunshine where a little tow- head plays ! And jist splash the world with dew drops in the DOWN HERE. Down here jasmine buds are bustin*, Oh, beloveds ! don't ye know, While the perfumes sweep around ye An' the boughs are droopin' low, An' the prairies roll off yonder Melt in' into heaven's blue. Don't ye know there's peace in Texas, Where a feller's dreams come true? JUST EYES. I think I do — Nay ; know I do — Like blue eyes passing well; Not simply just because they're blue, But— well, 'tis hard to tell ! And then, again, it isn't hard — I think I like their hue Because — because of my regard For you; your eyes are blue. But were your eyes of brown or gray I'd tune my heart as true ; But to brown eyes or gray eyes sway Instead of eyes of blue; And I could sing with all my heart To eyes of slaty hue ; Or black, black eyes, whence lightnings dart, If they belonged to you. 54 ,:^A j<5e>' WERE YOUR EYES BROWN. 1 ^•■i. [Just Eyes] 55 I think my first sweetheart had eyes Of iridescent brown, As sweet as vestal litanies ; Her tresses, tumbled down. Half hid two pink, delightful ears. And sometimes — when she'd frown — Heigh-oh ! where was I ? How the years Hark back to eves of brown ! But eyes of gray, or brown, or black. Or iridescent hue, While they are sweet yet, seem to lack A something — is it you ? It must be you; were your eyes gray. Or brown, beneath their glame I'd bow me in the same old way. And love you just the same. EESIGNATION. In the rainbow hues of the someday, dear, The dark of the present shall disappear, And we shall know As soft winds blow The mists that hide mnch from our vision here; When the race is run And the heights are won, We shall see it all as the light gets clear. In the someday land we shall see and know, And the hope whose fruition seems far and slow, The why and how. That puzzles now. When we\e climbed far up and the mists are low; And the fruitage rare. In the upper air. Shall be sweeter the steeper the heights we go. And He — He has trod in the selfsame mist. With the tired feet that the spikes had kissed. And shall we then, Of the sons of men, Show a faltering front or at all desist. Until we win through, Through the mists He knew, And we stand on the heights that are heaven-kissed? 66 A BOY^S WHISTLE. If I could whistle like I used when I was just a boy. And fill the echoes just plum full of that old- fashioned joy, I guess 'at I'd be willin' then to turn my back on things An' say farewell to scenes down here an' try my angel wings ; Oh, just once more to pucker up an' ripple soft, an' trill Until the music seemed ter fall agin the far-off hill Like dew falls on a half blown rose, till it gits full an' slips Like jewels tricklin', tinklin' down from pink, bewitchin' lips. Oh, yes, if I could whistle now like I could whistle then ! Jest pucker up these grim old lips an' turn things loose again ! 57 58 SING THE SOUTH. I'd like ter set up on the knoll where trees was all around, Jest set there punchin' my bare toes into the smelly ground, An' trillin' jest the same old tune I used to trill o' yore, With all the verve an' ecstasy that won't come back no more, Until I seen old brown throat thrush come stealin' from liis bush. An' lookin' round like he would say, say to the hull world, "Hush !" If I could whistle now I'd like to go along the road, Awakin' with my whistle shrill the scenes that once I knowed ; Jest send the ripplin' music through the tamaracs an' pines, An' stirrin' all the blossoms on the mornin'-glory vines ; Jest go sendin' all about me, all behind me an' be- fore, First loud and shrill as anything, an' then a-gittin' lower. [A Boy's Whistle] 59 The same old whistle that was mine, the same old carol shrill 'At used to bid the day good-night an' mock the whippoorwill. I seen a boy go past just now — his cheeks was like balloons — But, oh, the air was rendered sweet by old, remem- bered tunes ! An', oh, the world sat lightly on that childish, happy imp ! His trousers was all patched behind, his hat was torn an' limp, \Vhile one big toe that had been stubbed was twisted in a rag. But, oh, that imp stepped high and proud with shoulders full o' brag; An' whistled in the same old way as I was wont to do, Till my old heart was in the tunes the little rascal blew. If I could whistle like he did — but now there's some- thin' gone ! The trill is gone, the skill is gone ! Sometimes when I'm alone 60 SING THE SOUTH. I pucker an' purse up my lips an' try an' try an' try, An' then the noise my old lips makes ain't nothin' but a sigh. It ain't no thing of learnin' ; it can't be contrived by art; A boy must be behind it an' a great big boyish heart ; A boy just out of heaven must go whistlin' of the song; No use o' tryin' when v^e're old, we've been away too long. NET. She's got her waist of openwork, She's got her clock-ed hose, And hubby takes the bill, he does, And softly strokes his nose. And muses : "Waist of openwork And clock-ed hose — my pet. Is there no discount on these goods ?' "No," she replies, "they're net." BROTHERS. WhoM yearn for the touch of Midas? Who'd bow ^neath a golden cross ? I yearn for the country highways, for a wood where the branches toss ! For the goldenrod's yellow luster, for the silvery woodland note Of the mockbird^s carol of gladness that trills from his swelling throat ; For the gems of the early morning, the dew on each bud and bloom, And the sigh of the wind-tossed pinetops and the prairie's far-blown perfume ! Who'd sigh for the touch of Midas? To him be the marts of trade ! To me be the bouldered torrents, and pools where the trout have played ! To him be his strong-box massive, his steel-lined walls and floors ; 61 62 SING THE SOUTH. To me Just a care-free cottage and the freedom of all outdoors ! To him be the gold in ingots, torn from the gloomy mine; To me but the autumn's glor}^, and paths where the moonbeams shine ! To him — ah, yes ! I wish him a heart that is leal and true ! And a look like a look I know of from eyes of a turquoise blue ! For he — is he not my brother? I wish him the things I know; The joy of a dew-gemmed meadow, caresses the winds bestow On the brow of a lover of nature; the upland meads and burns, Where the shrill "tee-wheet" of the plover brings joy to the heart that yearns. For who am I ? Should I scorn him ? If the gods have been good to me, Shall I take to myself the credit that mine eyes are given to see The glory of glen and highway, the beauty of tree and bush, [Brothers] ^ That mine ears are awake to the voices that speak in the evening's hush ? Oh, no ! he is still my brother in spite of his golden dross ; Him, bound to the car of Mammon; me, ont where the branches toss ! 'NEATH JESSAMINE. The jessamine's faint, sweet perfume Comes stealing through the evening's gloom, And thrills the blood like rich red wine — Ah, Jessie, mine ! my jessamine. The rose may scatter petals fair; But other blooms are much more rare; We'll walk where glory vines entwine, And jessamine ! my Jessie, mine ! I'll weave a chaplet for your brow — I'll try to weave one anyhow — And 'neath the blooms your eyes shall shine Of jessamine, my Jessie, mine! And as the wind-blown blossom dips I'll stoop to cull from your sweet lips Love's nectar red, Love's ruby wine, 'Neath jessamine; my Jessie, mine! SKEEEED. Stayin' home o' Liza nights, Gee ! but I do squall When the shadders f m the lights Dances on the wall; An' when I git skeered she says, Liza does : ^SSay ! You ! Big black dog's a-comin' now T'eat yon np ! Boo-woo !" Never when we ain't alone She don't skeer me so, When my pa an' ma's at home, So that they don't know; But when pa an' ma go 'way, Like they sometimes do, She yells out : "Yere comies that dog ! Boo-woo-woo-woo-woo !" 64 [Skeered] ^^ 'Wen I yell ! 'i^'en she says : "Best hnsh up that yap ! Never seen in all my days Seeh a little brat ! Now shet np ! That big black dog's Lookin^ round fer you ! Guess I'll go an' let 'im in, A-boo-woo-woo-woo-wco !" Bet sometime, when I'm a man, I'll fix her all right ! Git the biggest dog I can, Ketch her 'lone some night. An' I'll bring that big dog in ! 'N I know what he'll do ! 'N I'll jest dance around an' yell: "Boo-woo-woo-woo-woo !" If this world, as poets tell us. Ain't the thing that she does seem, An' we're only just a-dreamin'. Ain't she just a dandy dream ! THE EARTH. Give me the hills, the pine-clad hills, the steep ones ; The jagged cliffs and slopes of living green; The valleys, vernal valleys, cool and deep ones, That round the hills, and rambling down between. Hold out a brawling course for some swift torrent, All boulder-tortured — bridged by fallen tree — Some men there be who find the hills abhorrent; But, oh, the hills — the hills seem good to me ! Or give to me the plains that roll and tumble In earthen billows to the sky's far line. All decked in blooms, a color scheme to crumble Into a thousand shades ! No words of mine Could ever paint in way that you might see them — You'll have to find and know them as I know. You'll have to wade among their blooms and knee them — Fair are the plains where wild flovsr'rs bud and blow! Or give to me the sea! I love its hollows, Where fishers^ shallops skim the tossing brine. Light on the wing and daintily as swallows ! The hills, the plains, the sea, all, all are mine I Oh, if the jasper gates ope on no garden Like these I know I'll weep celestial birth ! And I shall grieve and heaven be a burden. And all my plaint shall be : "I want the earth !" 66 BOULDER-TORTURED TORRENT. GLAD FOR THE YEAES. Dear, I am glad that I am grown so old, My locks of gray — my years — no longer fret, Nor that life's tide flows slowly now and cold, Since onr ways cross at last and we are met. And we are met; you yonng, with locks of gold, Eyes azure blue and cheeks wherein the rose Shows through the pearl-tint skin, and manifold, Sweet charms your soul's white purity enclose. Life was not much to me until you came ; The mornings dawned in roseate tints and dew; But, if they held but half the wondrous glame, I knew it not; my soul so longed for you! So Adam, in the race's primal time, I have no doubt, gazed on the earth's expanse ; Saw earth's first roses blow, first blossoms climb. With naught of soul, of pleasure, in his glance. 67 68 SING THE SOUTH. And I am old and you are young — and sweet, Sweet ? All the world is sweet since you are come I Rare blossoms spring where you do set your feet, And birds sing sweet whose voices erst were dumb ; Or if they sang before — but they did not! They made a noise — myself I heard them grieve 1 Why, I grieved with them — liking not my lot — But that they sang — ^nay, I cannot believe ! But now they sing ! such exultation thrills Through all their world as they had never kno\^Ti, Such exultation as my own soul fills. As never came to me when all alone; You wait for me glad-eyed beside the gate ; That we must part so soon does not affright. For we have met, and, heart of mine, I'll 'wait For you as glad when I have said good-night. When I have said good-night! The parting ways That I can see before fret not my soul ; For you, long years; for me, the short'ning days; And then to meet again by life's last goal ! And that is all — life's tide flows slow and cold, But graying years and locks no longer fret ; For I am glad, dear heart, that I am old Since age meant you, and we at last are met ! 'LONE WITH GOD. Wlien Mamma tucks the covers in an' leaves me comfy there. An' I lissen to her footsteps softly goin' down tV stair, Then th' chair I put my clothes on looks so blurry in th' night 'At I crawl beneath th' cover, an' I almos' die of fright ; An' I shiver 'neath th' cover an' I all squinch up an' hark ! I gits lonesome when I'm all alone with God an' in th' dark. She leans down an' she kisses me, an' then she says: "Good night." She says brave tads like I am doesn't need to have no light, An' then th' house gits silent an' still 'ist like a grave. An' when th' darkness guthers 'round I wish I wan't so brave, Fer th' wind outside th' winder groans an' whimpers like a snark; You 'ist know 'at I git lonesome 'lone with God an' in th' dark ! 69 70 SING THE SOUTH. Seems like Mamma oughter sense it, 'at I git most skeered to death, Fer I squinch up an' I huddle down an' try ter hoi' my breath ; When I hear th' wind go : "Whoo-ee !" an' th' stairs begin ter squeak, Then th' goose-flesh sticks out on me an' th' tears are on my cheek ! An' I know th^ ghosts air hantin' fer I hear th' watchdog bark ; Gee ! but I gits mighty crawly 'lone with God an' in th' dark ! Bet ye need God, too, at night time ; you don't need Him in th' day, When th' sun's a-shinin' gorgeous, then's th' time ye wanter play; But ye need Him right close to ye when you're almos' dead o' fright An' th' goggle-eyes are grinnin' an' a-blinkin' in th' night ; When th' watchdog is a-whinin', an' ye 'ist lay still an' hark — My ! I sure am skeered an' lonesome 'lone with God an' in th' dark ! ['Lone With God\ ^^ Funny how things look so diffrunt ! playin' hookey seems a sin. An' ye swear 'f ye live till mornin' 'at ye'll never go agin When th' other fellers coax ye ; 'at ye won't sneak off ter sv/im ; An' ye whisper: "Now I lay me"-~an' ye prom- ise things ter Him — An' ye say ye'U keep yer sonl white, an' with nary smudge ner mark, Fer a feller feels plum lonesome 'lone with God an' in th' dark. APPRECIATION. While the hlue sky bends above me There are those I know who love me, And I know that when I lay me down and die, and die, and die, They'll select my greatest jokes Every quip that fairly smokes, And will read my laugh-producers and will cry, and cry, and cry. LITTLE ORPHANT FELLER. Ast yer mamma won't she let ye Come out here 'ith me an' play ; I kin show ye things, I bet ye, 'At ye never didn't see. Ast yer mamma won't she only, I won't tangle up yer curls; An' — an' — I'm so dadburned lonesome An' I likes ter play with girls ! I'm an orphant little feller, Comed away down yere ter play, An', 'f ye wanter, ye can tell 'er 'At I've up an' runned away; An' ye tell 'er I won't never, Never scare ye 'f she will, An' I've runned away ferever From th' porehouse on th' hill. 72 [Little Orphant Feller] 78 Kun an' tell 'er, won't ye tell 'er That I'd like ter play 'ith yon? '1st a little orphant feller, An' I'll wait yere till ye do. Tell 'er, please, ter not be angry, Fer my eyes are full o' cry, An', oh, I'm so dadburned hungry I could most lay down an' die ! Tell 'er they've done took my mother Ter some placed called "Over There," An' th' porehouse give my brother Way f'm me — an' I don't care 'F I don't go back there never. An' I'm glad I runned away ! An' I'm gone f'm there ferever ! Tell 'er, can't ye come an' play? Ast her don't she want a feller — Don't she want a little boy ? I kin work like fury, tell 'er; Tell 'er that my name it's Eoy. At th' porehouse say they whipped me, An' I'm lone an full o' cry ! Tell 'er 'f she don't wanter dopt me Let me play 'ith you an' die ! OVER THE HILLS AWAY. Over the hills and away, away, Over the hills away, Where ox-eyed daisies dip and sway, Where morn's caressing sunbeams play, And cnrt'sying buds to the coming day Pour out a libation of dewy spray. Over the hills away. Out over the hills and far, afar. Over the hills afar. Where toys and joys of childhood are, The choo-choo engine and railway car, And soldiers of tin, begirt for war. The little tin ship and the wee tin tar, Over the hills afar. Over the hills and over the vales. Over the hills and vales. Where wee boats spread their gossamer sails, And the wind talks low to the tall cat-tails, Till the little boy's heart and courage fails. At the unknown ways and the unknown trails, Over the hills and vales. 74 [Over the Hills Away] 75 Oh, for the little boy's joys and fears, The little boy's joys and fears, For a charm to banish the dull grey years, For the red cheeks, wet with a little boy's tears, And the fearsome dark where the gobble-um leers, And the corners dim whence the grabnm peers, For the little boy's joys and fears. TO TEADE: A WOELD. Dear as I love this gay old world, Its golden-fruited trees, The birds that carol loud and free Across its perfumed leas, The frosty air of winter time When birds have all gone south. Dear heart, Td give it all, and laugh, To kiss you on the mouth I Yea, I would give the whole round world Of meadow, wood and swale. Its boulder-tortured torrents fierce, Each trickling stream and vale; And laugh with very joy to give It all, from north to south ! To just lift up your dimpled chin And kiss you on the mouth I 76 [To Trade: A World] 77 To just lift up your dimpled chin And look into your eyes — Look in to where the soul of love, And eke of mischief, lies — I'll have some placards printed big And posted north and south: WAXTED : To trade a big round world For one kiss on the mouth ! And when you read that placard big, You'll know that it means you, And you will laugh the old glad way That I have seen you do ; But I won't take back one wee word, I'll need no North nor South, For I will be in heaven when I kiss you on the mouth! PAPER DOLLS. I think that I cut paper dolls until it was after nine, And the little girl who sat on my knee and gath- ered thenx up was mine, And then she watched while I penciled ears and nose and mouth and eyes On each paper doll, and she questioned me and harked to my low replies While I named them all as she held them up, and sat wide-eyed and still. As I called off Ellen, and Zulia, too, and Lulu, and little Bill; And then she made me count them all — one — two, and three, and four; Ellen and Zulia and Lulu and Bill, the children who live next door. And ISTellie and Fannie and Cleve and Belle and William — '^and this is you !" And then she snuggled and kissed my cliin and whispered : "My eyes am brue !" And said: "Dint papa notice 'at?*' and reproach and sad surprise At my forgetfulness looked out on me from her blue eyes, 78 IPaper Dolls] 79 And I said: ^^Vhy, yes, of course I did; but we're just pretending this." So she snuggled her arms about my neck and held up her lips to kiss, And I kissed her neck and her forehead then and her hair and a wee, pink ear, And she twisted and asked : "Tan papa see ? My mouf is 'way over here V So I kissed her red, red, smiling lips, and cuddled her down to me ; And smiled to think of her wild surprise and her query : "Tan't papa see ?" Then I undressed her and wrapped her well in her nightie all pink and warm. And told her the story of Little Boy Blue, and snuggled her sleepy form ; But she awoke when I laid her down and stopped my crooning low. And said : "I'm ain't dot no dolls at all !" and queried : "Dint papa know ?'' And so I tiptoed doM-n the hall and gathered for her once more The paper dolls that bore the names of the chil- dren who live next door. REGRET. I felt so bad last night I waked from sleep, And went to where the moon was shining through The latticed window, and I scarce could keep From crying, thinking how I'd scolded you; I saw your wee, sob-shaken form again. And saw again your every tousled curl. And heard you strive to speak again, and then : "Don't papa 'member I's a 'itty dirl ?" And then I did remember ! Such a wee, Sweet baby girl you are, dear heart, and I A great big, burly man; it seemed to me The whole vast night was echoing your cry ! Pop's " 'itty dirl" unknowing the world's way. Unknowing an5^thing of right and wrong. Just trying to be happy every day. Just full of childish laughter and of song. If I am ever cross again with you, When I cry out to God on my last day May He close tight the gate I would go through, Look coldly at me, dear, and turn away ! I must have seemed a dreadful giant, dear. And you all wee and lone in a strange place; Dear " 'itty dirl" my night was sad and drear With memory of those teardrops on your face. 80 THAT SWEETHEAET OF MINE. I stood in a hall 'neath a chandeliers shine When the glasses brimmed high with a vintage divine, Where toast followed toast, and where wit sparkled free; But whatever the toast, dear, I drank but to thee I I drank but to thee, dear, saw but thy eyes ! And the hall stretched away till I stood ^neath the skies, Where we two often walked, where you're waiting for me; And so at the feasting I drink but to thee. Yes, I lifted the beaker, I quaffed of the wine, And tho^ loud grew the laughter, I saw but the shine Of the eyes whose farewell shone to me thro' a mist ; And in fancy I stooped to the lips I have kissed ; Then I lifted the goblet, full up to the brim ! And I drank to a memory never grown dim ! And I drank to a path that winds down by the sea ; Aye, I drank as forever I'll drink, dear — to thee ! 81 82 SING THE SOUTH. Tho' I walk all alone and afar from the crowd, Or where Bacchus holds sway ; and where revel rings loud; Let the toast be a tribute to far native skies, As I hold up my glass 1^11 but think of your eyes ! Let the toast be the soldier, the lover, the sage, Be it goldenhaired youth or the silver of age. There is only one love in this wide world for me; And in wine, dear, or water I^m drinking to thee ! Then here's to her eyes, dear, here's to her hair ! The maids of their loving, the dark maids and fair; Here's to black, brown or blue eyes, each knight to his taste ! To the tall, lissome maiden, the lass with a waist ! And fill up to the rim till the goblet runs o'er. Ye have toasted the many — ^now, standing once more Drink, drink to the dregs of the ruby red wine — Here's to her forever ! That sweetheart o' mine ! BY THE STORK SPECIAL. Mary Ellen had wished fer a boy fer a year. And me fer a girl, yep, I prayed fer a girl ; Now that in the face of it sounds ruther queer, An^ unusooal, too, but my Mary's my pearl Amongst women, an^ I knowed thet sheM be as glad With a girl — jist as glad as she ever could be — So I prayed for a girl, whilst she prayed fer a tad — Jist a tad of a boy — that she knowed \\d. please me. I 'ud yoke up the oxen with "Gee !'' an^ "Whoa, haw !" An' we'd go to the wood-lot, the oxen an' me. An' we'd see the sun rise, an' we'd hear the crows caw. An' always in front of my mind there 'ud be A wee, little chap with his bare little feet. An' eyes peekin' at me right thoo a gold curl — I would see 'im as plain, jist as plain an' as sweet. An' — ^then I'd think of Mary, an' pray fer a girl. 83 84 SING THE SOUTH, An^ Mary, a-washin' the dishes, 'ud dream Of a sweet little girl in a checked gingham gown, With red blooms in her cheeks, an' a mischievous gleam In her eyes, an' her yellow hair tumbled an' down, Till her heart an' her arms 'ud reach out to the tyke — She would dream her that real — ^then, waked from her joy, She'd git thinkin' of me an' of what I 'ud like, An' 'ud blink back her longin' an' pray fer a boy. An', so fer as that went, I didn't care much — Of course men likes boys, it's their nature I s'pose — But I think the wee hands, -with their delicate touch, Of a girl — of a girl — well you know how it goes — I did want a boy ! Mary did want a girl ! That's the long an' short of it ! 'Twould hev been a great joy Fer me, a boy would, with his hair all a-curl — So I prayed fer a girl an' she — prayed fer a boy. An' you ask me which was it? Now which 'ud you guess ? God has His own way of a-settlin' such things; [Bi/ the Stork Special] 85 When He sends souls ter earth by Stork's Special Express, An^ we mortals hear faint the far-flutterin' wings An' look ter see what has been given ter us, We're glad f er whichever ; an' Mary an' me Seen two little tykes ! Such a glad little cuss Of a boy ! An' a girl ! Twins, by ging ! Yes, sir- ree! STRAWBERRIES. Hail ! the luscious berry ! Once a poet said God could make a better fruit Than strawberries red; Just suggested that He could. But somehow He wouldn't ; But, by jingo ! 'twixt us two, I believe He couldn't! WHEN BABELS ASLEEP. Why is that, when babels asleep, The wee, sweet laughing dimples creep Into her cheeks, she seems to keep A tryst where angel's pinions sweep, When babe's asleep? Is it, that far beyond the skies. Her sonl harks back to paradise. And lying there with close-shnt eyes She hears the angel luUabys? When babe's asleep? Why do her rosebud lips beguile My cares, with such angelic vv'ile I e'en must smile, to see her smile That helps to while the weary while. When babe's asleep? 86 [When Babe's Asleep] 87 Is it that she doth flit afar, To find her own souFs natal star, And in her dreams, with ne'er a jar, Glides back where erst companions are, When babe's asleep? Doth she regret this being sent On earthly, carking mission bent. And seeking goes where erstwhile pent Her soul with other souls was blent. When babe's asleep? I would that I the rune might read ; Why dimples, rosy dimples, lead A smile — ah, how her smile doth plead- To my old heart; I'm glad indeed When babe's asleep. Ah, not for me to enter in Her joy, or ever hope to win The answer; still my hope hath been That 'tis not colic makes her grin When babe's asleep. DAD'S GIEL. Why, yes, babe, I think it's a wonderful fist, Each dimple, each knuckle, each crease I have kissed; And the rose tinted palm is as dainty and sweet As — as — well as the soles of your wee, little feet. By the way you admire your hands it is plain Dad's girl will be vain, most exceedingly vain. You lie in your cradle, and waving your fist Aloft you just v/atch while you give it a twist ; You laugh when it opes, when it closes you're glum, Then gurgle aloud to discover a thumb; Then you coo and you talk and give daddy your hands. It's a heart to heart talk and your dad understands. It's a funny old world ; built for babies, you guess. Where their dads dance and crow, and the sweet tenderness Of a mother enfolds them and wraps them about, And kisses and pats the pink feet that kick out. And life's such a joke for wee lassies and lads. With their hands clasped together and both held in dad's. 88 [Dad's Girl] 89 In dreamy-eyed wonder you sink to repose. And your eyes are like stars when at last they un- close ; Such a funny, big world, full of people that stare, Like you were the only wee babe that was there, And they eye one another, and laugh when you crow, And only your dad seems to listen and know. Aye, only your dad! when your feet have grown strong. And carry you out midst the jostle and throng; When the world and temptations reach swiftly to grasp, May your hands find your dad's and be held in his clasp ! When your eyes glint with joy or falter with woe. Tell it all to your dad; for you're dad's girl, you know. NO LIGHT. I sat and dreamed of you last night, Wide eyed, Alone, And, in the hush of fading light, A form of wondrous mold and slight Sat in a chair, all gem bedight. Beside My own. A form of regal mold and mien. Fair haired, Petite, Was mirrored on my memory's screen. And old delights woke fresh and keen, And you, with chastened, humble mien, I dared To greet. [No Light] 91 Ah, but the glowing west flashed red, A blaze Of gold; Your soul heard all that my soul said, Love once again, with hoping wed, Spread the same joy with which it spread Our ways Of old. The night came down, my dream was spent; No light To mark Whence it all fast and faster fled ; My vibrant heartstrings throbbed with dread; All hope, all joy, all light lay dead. The night Was dark! THE LESSON. ''Lord," I whispered, *'I'm a- weary!'' and I gazed upon the potion, That sweet-bitter draught whose draining could but bring my spirit rest, That would bring me lasting slumber, as the ebb and flow of ocean Soothes the scarred forsaken derelict that lies against its breast. "Lord," I whispered, "I'm a-weary ! Other ones have gone before me. And the bitter tears have fallen, fallen in my life like rain ! And the skies have lost their blueness, and much darkness hovers o'er me, And sleep brings me little resting, and awaking brings me pain !" 92 [The Lesson] 93 "Lord/^ I whispered, "why the waiting? Why the waiting and the weeping? If a task awaits my doing let me do it and be gone ! Let me sleep — oh, I'm a-weary ! — where those other ones are sleeping ! Let me rest till my awaking on the other side of dawn V "My Gethsemane hath found me and hath left me pining, pining ! And my lips are drooped forever that were erst a-eurve with mirth ! And the sun has snnk forever that of erst was bright- ly shining, And the shackles gall and hurt me that are hold- ing me to earth \" And I whispered, "On me be it !" and I lifted up the potion, And already life that irked me seemed a thing far, far away; And eternity oped to me like a vista of the ocean Traversed by a path of glory to the gateway of the day! 94 SING THE SOUTH. But a figure stood before me, grand, majestic in its beauty ! And its pinions stretched above me and I dwindled and was small ! And I heard a voice insistent whisper softly: "Do your duty !" Then the vision smiled and left me and I let the potion fall ! And I whispered, "Lord, I'm ready !'' and my selfish- ness fell from me. And 1 looked and saw my fellows and the burdens they must bear. And the help 'twas mine to give them, and till sleep doth overcome me Will be all too short for doing. Duty's accents whispered, "There !" Then, years after, came the angel, and a voice said: "You have waited. And full well have earned your resting." Then the lips curved to a smile. When I whispered, kneeling humbly, "Lord, my task was so belated There remains much for mv doing; ! Leave me vet a little while !" LULLABYE. Softly your mother sings, "Bye-o-bye, Bye, oh, baby, bye, Slumber, oh, babe, for the moon is high. And brightly the stars from the deep, deep sky Look lovingly down where onr babe doth lie; Lnllabye, bye-o-bye." Softly she sings of the spreading tree; "Bye, oh, baby bye, There^s a cradle that nature has woven thee; Thou shalt swing so softly, oh, baby, wee, That the stars shall smile as they stoop to see; Lullabye, bye-o-bye/^ I list to the croon as I sit out here ; "Bye, oh, baby, bye ; Sleep, oh, sleep; or the sand man, dear. Will scatter his sand till your eyes so clear, Like blossoms shall fold, and shall disappear; Lullabye, bye-o-bye." As the moon-flowers open to greet the moon, "Bye, oh, baby, bye" Softly she hums you an old sweet tune, Tho' the words are her o^vn that I hear her croon; Ah, baby, a mother's a wonderful boon ! "Lullabye, bye-o-bye." 95 LONESOME. The rubber cat stands over where the cotton rabbit stands, And, oh, but they look lonesome since the day you went away ! And the mirror shows the imprint of your wee and dimpled hands, And your blocks are scattered where you used to And there's simply nothing doing, for me evenings any more, Not an hour of jolly romping with you, dear ! Oh, I'd like to get right down, I would, and sprawl out on the floor, Like the way we used to do when you were here ! I would love to be your horse, I would — I can't keep back the tears, I feel so doggoned lonesome when I think — And I'd love to have you grab me, chubby-fisted, by the ears And pretend that you were leading me to drink; 96 [Lonesome] 97 And I'd love to hear you laugh again, the way you used to do When you went and hid behind the curtained door. And jumped right out and scared me with your loud, ferocious "Boo !" Till I fell right down and wriggled on the floor! It's bound to be a long, long time before the autumn breeze Blows coolly from the prairie and the stream, And my heart just aches to grab you and to jump you on my knees, Instead of just to simply sit and dream Of the rousing times we used to have, the things we used to do, And of how I toted you a-pick-a-pack — Oh, I'm lonesome, lonesome, lonesome for your kisses, Eyes-o'-blue, And Fm counting up the days till you come back ! WHEN MARY WAS SIXTEEN. When Mary was sixteen, I ween, When Mary was sixteen. Oh, then the world was fresh and green And each beloved scene, Recalled today, was fresh and fair, And wondrous was the sheen Of every strand of sunkissed hair When Mary was sixteen. When Mary was sixteen I knew — When Mary was sixteen — Far brighter skies and deeper blue Than those I erst had seen; And, oh, she wore a gingham gown. All freshly starched and clean, And truant curls all tumbled down, When Mary was sixteen. 98 [When Mary was Sixteen] 99 V/hen Mary was sixteen then I — When Mary was sixteen — Oh, then my heart was in each sigh And I was passing green; We two walked out, but far apart With lots of space between. But joy was in each throbbing heart When Mary was sixteen. W^hen Mary was sixteen I culled — When Mary was sixteen — The brighest blossoms ever pulled, And she was glad, I ween; I loved her then; but, oh, today She is my wife, my queen ! And dearer than on that far day When Mary was sixteen. SANTA GLAUS. I have stood fer almost ev'ry thing iconoclasts have done; I have seen life's idols fallin' inter fragments one by one, An' I haven't made no murmur, jist perhaps have heaved a sigh, An' have watched them do their smashin' an' have put the fragments by; But there's a length they daren't go, a length 'at isn't right. An' when they tackle Santa Glaus, by ging, they've got ter fight ! The dear ol' chap was good enough fer me when jist a boy. An' brung me jist 'bout all I knowed o' good ol'- fashioned joy, An' the pleasure that was good enough in them ol' days fer me 100 [Santa Clausl 101 Shant be crucified, I promise ! Lord, preserve the Christmas tree ! An^ preserve the old illusions, fill all childhood's brimmin' cup With the pleasure 'at attended when I hanged my stockin up ! I believe in him, fer mother said they was a Santa Claus ! An^ my dear ol' daddy said so, an' I b'lieve in him because, 'Cause I was a little feller, an' 'cause he was good ter me. An' because o' all the glory o' the old-time Christ- mas tree ! An' because o' my own babies, an' the pleasure 'at's their due ! Shall I shut in their sweet faces pleasant doors 'at I've been through? No sir ! Roll yer eyes an' mutter in yer hypocritic strain ! Hope 'at you aint got no children — mebbe I'm a-talkin' plain. But I'm feelin' on this subjec' deeper p'raps than I kin tell, 102 SING THE SOUTH. An' a childhood 'thout a Santa is a biirnin' joy- less — well, It aint no surenough childhood, an^ I wanter say 'at I B'lieve in Santa ! Always have believed ! an' I will until I die ! An, I'm goin' ter tell my baby, when her lisping prayers are said, That sweet story 'bout oV Santa fore I tote her up to bed! An' I'll help write him a letter, an' I'll see her eyes grow bright. An' I'll know I've made her happy when she kisses me goodnight ! An' the man that dares ter tell her that there aint no sich a thing Better not let me know of it, er he'll have ter fight, by ging ! SUNSET. ■; The weeds take on a hue like goldenrod, And clouds erst gray, the setting sun hath kissed, Blush rosy red, and dusty jimsons nod, And, tremulous with light, the evening mist Doth waver like a scarf by zephyrs swept. Held in some fairy's hands, some fairy queen, Who through the long, hot day hath dreamless slept. And now, awaking, trips across the green. And o'er her shoulders multi-colored fleece Doth wrap to guard her from the dews of night ; Her coming bringeth rest, her smile is peace, Contentment lags behind her perfumed flight. Bright grows the world when day with night hath met. And life grows brighter as life's sun doth set. 103 THE ORPHANT ^SYLUM BOY. They'll be plantin' of potatoes in a day or two, I s'pose, An' the niggers'll be workin' in the corn an' cotton rows. An' the katydids be cheepin' jist outside the cottage door Where it used to be my home was, but it ain't my home no more ! An' sometimes I see the place In my dreamin', an' my face Is all splattered up with teardrops when I wake up in the morn', Though I know I shouldn't cry; But I 'most wish I could die, An' I git so choked an' lonesome that I'm sorry I was born. 104 [The Orphant ' Sylum Boy] 105 Fer I'm jist a little feller an' it don't seem God kin know How I'm lonesome for my mother when the sun's a- gittin' low, An' how paths I useter run in coax an' coax my longin' feet, An' how bad I want my daddy what I useter go an' meet. But I s'pose that God He knows — Yit the corn an' cotton rows 'Ud suit me a hull lot better, an' I cry an' cry an' cry, An' I'd like a chanst ter drap '1st my head in mother's lap, Like I useter when dad whupped me, an' ter hear her ^HDye-o-bye." I kin see the moss a-hangin' where they laid 'em side an' side. An' they orter took me with 'em or stayed with me; bet that I'd Be a hull lot better feller 'f I could have 'em, an' God knows That my th'oat jist aches f m longin' fer the corn an' cotton rows ! 106 SING THE SOUTH. They don^t seem to be no joy Fer no orphant 'sylnm boy. An' I ain't no dad ter sing me : "Little feller, bye-o- bye.'' Don't ye s'pose that God He knows 'Bout the corn an' cotton rows. An' — oh, gee ! now don't ye f oiler me, I'm chokin' up ter cry ! MIGHTY HAED. Fall time down in Texas, Weeds are dried and dead; But, oh, the winter roses Are pink and white and red ! And, oh, the morns are misty, And girls and noons are sweet, And any time in Texas Is mighty hard to beat! DUMPUNUMS. My mamma's makin' dnmpiiimms an' makin chicken gravy, An' I'm dressed np an' swingin' on the gate to watch for dad, My mamma's makin' dumpimnms an' makin' chicken gravy, She makes the bestest dnmpnnnms you almos' never had; An' I dot ribbons in my hair, an' I'm out here a- swingin', I'm on the gate an' swingin' an' a-watchin' for my dad; Des a-watchin' for my papa here a-swingin' an' a- singin' An' I'll tell him 'bout the dumpunums an' my I but he'll be glad. My mamma's makin' dumpunums — I'm des come from the kitchen, And me dropped the flour sifter and me spilled some water, too. And my mamma said: "Miss Twoshoes, some one's goin' to get a switchin' 107 108 SING THE SOUTH. If they don't go watch for daddy, and I'm 'fraid it might be you !" So I'm watchin' for my daddy, now, up on the gate a- swingin', An' me'll see him way off yonder when him comes into the street, An' me'll dance away to meet him, des a-laiighin' an' a-singin' An' me'll tell him 'bont the dumpunnms an' dad'll call me sweet. Dad'll stoop right down to gwab me when he sees me come a-runnin'. An' he'll kiss me an' he'll ask me : "Who is daddy's little dirl?" An' he'll pick me np an toss me an' he'll say : "Now tell me, Cunnin', Who tied that baby ribbon on that little yellow curl ?" 'N'en he'll put me on him's shoulder an' we'll go back home a-talkin', An' he'll love me an' he'll hug me an he'll tell me me am sweet. An' the mockin'-birds up yonder will be singin' an' a-mockin'. An' me'll tell him 'bout the dumpunums that we will have to eat. \Dumpunums\ 109 My mamma's makin' dumpunums, me went out in the kitchen, An^ she was makin' gravy and me spilled some water, too, An' my mamma said: "Miss Twoshoes, some one's goin' to get a switchin'. If they don't go watch for daddy, an' I'm 'fraid it might be you." So me's waitin' here for daddy on the gate, a-singin/ swingin', A'waitin' till me sees him an' me runs for him's caress, Then nie'll go out in the kitchen, me a-dan,cin' an' a- singin'. An' Miss Twoshoes won't get switchin's while her daddy's here, me guess. WHERE HE'S WAITING. ^^Is he waiting ? Is he waiting?*' Pipes the field-lark to the thrush. "Yes, he's waiting, Still he's waiting," Comes the answer from the brush; Then the voices of the woodland. Then the perfumed spring-time breeze. Hushes in rapt expectation For the step of Mercedes. "Is she coming? Is she coming?" To the field-lark calls the thrush. "Yes, she's coming ! Now she's coming !" Comes the answer : "Can't you hush ? Don't you hear the meadows whisper As the grasses clasp her knees ? Don't you hear the breeze intoning : 'Coming, coming ! Mercedes' ?" 110 [ Where He's Waiting] ■ 111 "Don't you hear it? Hear her footstep?'' Calls the perky-headed bird. "No, it wasn't V Calls the field-lark, "Not her footstep that you heard; That was just the far-blown whisper Of the far-off, spring-clad trees; It was never half so dainty As the step of Mercedes. "No, but — no, but — Now she's coming !" Conies the field-lark's whistle shrill. "Coming! Coming! Coming ! Coming !" Comes the chorus from the hill; And the field and woodland chorus Stirs the feather-foliaged trees. And all Nature bids her welcome Where Love waits for Mercedes. HAO SHEK AVhen life's outlines grow sharp and hard, And Fancy's flights seem crushed and barred Beneath the upper and nether stones Of proper things which the world condones, And when I long till my heartstrings shriek, For an hour's reprieve, it is then I seek The strange, grotesque and smelly den Of the sire of little Hao Shen, Who softly plays on a sam-i-sen. She sits enshrined amidst fins of sharks And dried birdnests. And pirate barks On the Yellow Sea have fought and sunk Full many a treasure-laden junk, That the spoil may wend through ways of trade- The costly mats and the gems of jade — To the strange, grotesque and smelly den Where smoketh the sire of Hao Shen, Who picks the strings of a sam-i-sen. The city's rush seems strangely stilled By distance vast — the smell distilled By ginseng root and musty bales, Woos me afar to where the sails 112 [Hao Shen'] 113 Of pirate junks in swift pursuit O'ertake their prey, for the precious loot That stocks the strange and smelly den Where sleepeth the sire of Hao Shen, Who plays to me on a sam-i-sen. Aye, sleep ! at last he sleeps, and well ! And softly the notes of the music swell With a cadence new, till I seem to stand A painted picture, and hold the hand Of a painted maiden with cheeks snow white And red, red lips ; and whose eyes of night Are much like those in the smelly den — The den of the sire of Hko Shen, Who softly strums on a sam-i-sen. Now loud the notes, now sobbing low, With all that the maiden would have me know — That the bird of the East would love to nest Close, close to the heart in a Western breast. Ah, would I were but a picture man ! Forever to kneel on a lacquered fan To the little maid in the smelly den ! Where dreams the sire of Hao Shen, Who plays with love on a sam-i-sen. INEVITABLE. The air is a-weight with a faint perfume, Just the last sweet sigh of a dead red rose That she wore in her hair Avhen we met in the gloom, And never a promise the future throws On the unmarked canvas of the years to be, Is worth to me half that the past hath been ; For never a future can bring to me One touch of the lips I had hoped to win. One touch of the lips, or the low, sweet tone — Ah, I hold it a lie that the poet sings That "He travels far swifter who travels alone," For years are heavy, each dawn that brings An unlived day to the bedside there. Of the man who hath none but himself to keep, Is greeted, yes, greeted with dark despair — For Lethe's stream is but found in sleep. 114 [Inevitable] 115 So I breathe a caress on the dead red rose, The scarlet leaves of a beauty flown, Jnst the faintest breath of a perfume blows From out of the years that we both have known, But the thorns ! the thorns ! we little dreamed, In the dear, dead days, that a thorn was there ; They were hidden then and the leaves but seemed A tinted promise of the years we'd share. But now how the thorns stand out ! and sharp ! Ah, but you must know how they rankle and sting ! Or I never would travel alone, and harp, And hope for a tune from a long dead string ! But we loved ! we two ; we were mad ! love mad ! Your lips to my lips ! ah, w^e two loved well ! Now I have but the thorns of the love we had — Who travels alone goes down to hell ! WAITING. Dear, we shall miss 3^011, we shall and we do ; The lips we have kissed, and the wee dimples, too ; The patter of feet, The words lisped so sweet; The parting was bitter, but, yet, we shall meet. And we shall be glad in the morning. Yours is the joy And the peace over there; The glee in your eyes And the sun on your hair. Long, long are the days since 'twas ours, dear, to plan For you and your future when you were a man ; And now you are gone And we wait all alone, And the paths seem to wait where your wee feet have run; But our hearts will be glad in the morning. Yours, dear, to play, And to wait for us there ; Your blue eyes a-shine And the sun in your hair. 116 [Waiting] 117 And you won't grow big, but forever be wee, With the lisp in your accents, the glint of rare glee In your eyes, dear, and you. When death lets us through. Will meet us and laugh the dear laugh that we knew, And we shall laugh loud in the morning. Yes, dear, we shall Laugh loud with you then; When the gates open wide And we meet you again. We know you were met, dear, on passing the door, By those who had lived and loved babies of yore ; With arms open wide They stooped to your side. And we know you'll come running to us happy-eyed. And we shall be glad in the morning. x\nd so, dear, we smile Through eyes dim with tears; Because you are waiting For us down the years. MARaARET. Baby, oh, baby, Innocency^s self, Do yoiT know dad loves you. You bewitching elf ? Do you know at night-time Where the shadows creep. Dad is bending over you While you lie asleep ? Is there nothing whispers How he strokes your curls, How he lingers by you. Daddy's best of girls ? How he's hoping, planning. Oh, you winsome mite. For your pleasure all your life, Planning day and night? 118 [Margaret] 119 Wlien cold blasts are blowing. When lifers path is steep, Does he rue the climbing, Eue the wind's wild sweep ? Nay; each rough rebuffing Never brings him rue ; It but shows the places He must smooth for you. Father's — mother's baby ! Winsome three-j'^ear-old ! From your dainty slippers To the ribboned gold Of your tousled tresses, Dearie ! Eyes-o'-blue ! You're a wisp of gladness ! God be good to you ! SOUL OF A FLAME. You are the somnolent soul of a flame, But your eyes are ash-gray and as cold As ice, and your lips in a fine disdain Are curled as a rose leaf rolled By the touch of an all too boisterous wind, Whenever I meet your gaze; But my heart leaps up, and my pride is blind Whenever you cross my ways. My heart throbs fast and my pride is blind. Oh, sinuous maid, and tall, And out of the wandering, listless wind I list for the ferine call Of the old wild days that bade men take Whatever seemed good; and might Was the only law, and fen and lake Were theirs by their might and right. 120 [Sotd of a Flame] 121 I know that your white, white eyelids veil The look of a kindred soul, And they bruise my heart like a swinging flail, And they urge me to make the goal; And my arms half reach when you pass me by To take you and crush you, too. In a wild embrace, and I try and try What I haven't the nerve to do. I would clasp you, and crush you, and hold you tight; And your red, red lips to my kiss Would palpitate, and your gray eyes light With a startled but welcome bliss ; Till your struggles ceased and your cry of fright Had merged in a languorous sigh ; Till my arms might open to give you flight, But yet you would choose to lie. For you are the somnolent soul of a flame ; Aye, you sleep, but your eyes ash-gray Show a flash sometimes, and its wondrous gleam Doth lift me, and hold, and sway My soul, till my arms vrould clasp you tight And never unclasp again ! Oh, for you and the days when might made right ! For the days when men were men ! BENEATH THE LILACS. When memories of youth my path besetting, Lead me aback along the paths of rue. Then life is just a grumbling and forgetting, And the thing that I am regretting most is you. You are only just a memory, but hang you ! Your arms are 'round my neck, your lips to mine, And I'm humming o'er the songs I erstwhile sang you. And your eyes look through the years and shine, and shine. I see your dimpled shoulders gleaming whitely, Your lips are red as on a night we knew ; The night breeze stirs your tresses, lifts them lightly, And the maid whom I am kissing, dear, is you. Ah, I have tried so hard to just forget you ! Ah, I have burned cigars before your shrine ! But every puff brings back the night I met you. And through the puffs of smoke your glances shine. 122 [Beneath the Lilacs] 123 The lilacs dip with dew, their branches bending, Jnst form a perfumed arch above your head ; Your breath with the sweet lilac's breath is blending, And blended were the vows we looked and said. It's true that I have tried, but I can never Forget you, or forget that you were mine ; Howe'er my thoughts may stray they're turning ever To look deep in your eyes and see them shine. I walk again where lilac boughs are drooping, And list to other vows from other lips. But mem'ries of the past forever trooping From out the past my present hopes eclipse ; The moonbeams in the dewdrops scintillating, Like laughter crystallized in limpid tears, Drips on my head bowed down where I am waiting, Like mem'ries from the chalice of the years. A WEEPING AND FORGETTING. Beside your bed I stand while 3'OU are sleeping, One little roseleaf palm outstretched and pink, Still on your cheek the tears of recent weeping, But on your lips a smile, the while I think How babyhood is blest by fates caressing. That even while their cheeks with tears are wet. Whatever the hurt, whate'er the grief distressing, "Tis just to weep a little, then forget. If I should pass tonight, and silent lying. With features all austere in solemn gloom. You'd sob, perchance, unknowing cause for crying, Save that you felt a presence in the room, A presence dread, intangible and fearful, Whose stamp of deep repose its seal had set On my wan face, you'd be a moment tearful, You'd cry a little while and then forget. 124 [A Weeping and Forgetting] 125 With your short limbs you haven't far to tumble, Nor with your weight do you hit very hard, But, oh, to hear the wail that marks a stumble Would make one think the universe were jarred; It crieth loud and long, no diminution Doth seem to heave in sight, and yet, and yet. E'en moments find for grief a swift solution, You cry a little while and then forget. If you should pass tonight and, all forgetful. In your white shroud should lie midst faint per- fumes, Then I'd recall each grief youM had ; regretful, Heart-broken I would kneel amidst the blooms ; Kemember your small griefs and shrieks of laughter, Your sweet caresses when at night we met, Then I would bow and leave, but ever after I'd w^eep, and weep, and weep, and ne'er forget ! HALLOWE^EN. Down from out the mists of mem'r}^, like the shadow of a dream, Comes the vision of an old-time country party Hallowe'en ; And I see the girls peel apples as they did that night of yore, And toss parings o'er their shoulders to make figures on the floor. And the letter of their forming was the first one of the name Of, perchance, a present sweetheart, of some blush- ing love-lorn swain ; And I sit and smoke and ponder, and I'm living in a dream Of a pleasure long departed, of an old-time Hallow- e'en. 126 [Halloive'en] 127 For the children gathered 'round me just last night, and, as of yore, Came the youths and red-cheeked lassies, helter- skelter, through the door ; And they danced to "Old Dan Tucker,'' and they bobbed for apples, too. Till their faces were as drippy as pink roses dipped in dew. 'Twas my daughter Hester's party, she just turning seventeen, An' 'twas then that I remembered that off-yonder Hallowe'en, And my heart it grew so mellow that I felt my spirits balk. So I filled my pipe and softly sneaked outside to take a walk. Then I seen Jim Jones a-hangin', all forlorn, across the gate. An' I stepped into the shadow of the apple tree to wait; An' I seen him rubber-necking at the windows, like he'd try 'F he could see my Hester's shadow in the light, a-flittin' by. 128 SING THE SOUTH. And a-sudden I remembered all about that Hallow- e'en, And the how my Hester's mother was just turning seventeen ; And I snuck around behind Jim Jones an' whispered : "Howdy do !" And 'f I hadn't grabbed his coat-tails I've a notion he'd a flew ! And I put my arm around him — seemed like he was just a kid — And T said: "You love her, Jimmie?" and he gulped and said he did ; And I snuck him through the kitchen, up aloft, and left him there In the dark before the mirror, on the landJn' of the stair. And I went down to the parlor, knocked my pipe cut, and said I : "There's a charm that I remember Hester's mother used to try ; If a girl would care to try it — it's a rather eerie lark — She can see her future husband peering at her from the dark." [Hallowe'en'] 129 And said, "Hester, take a candle, and go softly up the stairs Vriiere the looking-glass is standing, an' don't look 'round anywheres, But just right before you, honey, and just count out, ^One, two, three !' An' there truly ain't no tellin' half that you are apt to see/' So she took the dip an' started, it a-flarin' low an' dim, And I knowed her cheeks was fiamin' an' her heart was throbbin' : "Jim !" And I snuck outside an' waited, fer I felt I wanted air. And I sorter felt her mother was some nearer to me there. And, right then, she came a-flyin', him behind her, down the walk. An' they had their arms around me, both to plum heart-full to talk ! And all Hester said was, "Daddy !" and Jim said. "It's gittin' cool Fer this time o' year." Doggone him ! I just blubbered like a fool ! SING THE SOUTH. Sing the South ! Oh, the South ! Sing the South ! AVith her yellow, red roses, and pink ! Where the air is like wine in the mouth, And there's glad, surging life in the drink ! Sing the South ! Oh, the beautiful South ! With her sweep of wide star-blossomed plains — Red-lipped — oh, the kiss of her mouth Sends the blood rushing swift in the veins ! Oh, the South ! Oh, the South ! Let her glories ring clear, Like the song in the heart Of the lover, when, near Where he leans on the bars. Trembling beauty appears. With her eyes like blue stars Smiling glad through her tears. 180 [Sing the South] 131 Sing the South ! Oh, the South ! Oh, the South ! Oh, her bayous that sleep in the shade ! Oh, the pout of her lily-kissed mouth Whose kiss maketh man unafraid ! Oh, the lingering clasp of her arms ! Oh, the witcheries sweet of each wile ! Oh, her broad fertile prairies and farms ! There's a promise of joy in her smile ! Oh, the South ! Oh, the South ! Let her glories ring clear ! And lilt like the kiss Of her own atmosphere ! Oh, her sweet blossoms lie Like a kiss on the mouth ! There's no love like the South ! Sing the South ! Sing the South ! FULL 0' BRAG. When I've watched you an' your mother scramblin' 'round an' playin' tag, An' you with curls a-tossin' as ye run, I swear that, on the quiet, Vm so dad-burned full o' brag That I think the world don't hold another one That kin hold a candle to ye, that kin laugh as loud as you. That is half the treasure you are to your dad ; Bet there ain't another baby with such eyes o' bonny blue, Or another one whose laugh is half as glad. Bet they ain't another baby, when the sand man comes around, That snuggles down to slumber like you do. An' they ain't another baby, when it's been undressed an' gowned. That looks half so like an angel, dear, as you ; 132 [Full 0' Brag] 133 An' they ain't another daddy standin' by a trundle- bed. An' lookin' on another baby form, That is bnildin' half the castles I'm a-bnildin' in my head; Or another one whose heart feels half so warm. Bet I like to see ye mornings, half asleep an' half awake, Like a dimpled little Cupid, curled an' pink, An' to see your little paddies both upheld for dad to take, An' your eyes, now wide in wonder, now a-blink ; Oh, whatever years may fetch me, so they leave me, dear, but you. Will find me well content to bear the load ; So they leave but you beside me, and your eyes o' twinklin' blue A-smilin' up to mine along the road. So I watch you an' your mother playin' tag around the house, Or tippy-toein' 'round at peek-a-boo, Now a-3'eilin' just for gladness, novv' as still as any mouse ; iSTever knowin' all the time I'm watchin' you ; 184 SING THE SOUTH. Never guessin' half the pleasure you're a-givin' your old dad, Wlio sits an' sizes you up as ycu run, Till his heart just beats in jig-time, he's a-feelin' so derned glad ! An' he waits to grab you to him when you're done. AWFUL. "Pick her up tenderly, Lift her with care; Fashioned so slenderly Young and so fair;" Barefoot for retiring, Her shriek roused the house; She's near to expiring — She stepped on a mouse ! BEREAVED. Love, V\e wandered far toda^^ vv^here green forest boughs were bending, And past wide, wide fields where men are planting corn; And I found a forest pathway that of old knew oft our wending. Where, in shady nooks, still hung the dews of morn; And the mocking-birds were singing, and the skies were deep and blue. And sweet voices of the springtime seemed to softly ask for you. Said the mocking-birds, ^'The maiden? You're not surely here alone I" And, *^'x\lone !" the echo whispered, and a ])reeze, tiptoeing by. Softly searched through all the forest with a low, expectant tone, 135 136 Si:t^G THE SOUTH. And then;, stooping to the meadow, where the early blossoms lie, Gently lifted up each leaflet, then, replacing it with care, Seemed to pause, then soft departed, whispering: ^^N"ot there, not there V Still I trod on till I reached it;, the old oak tree of our trysting. Where a mound is, and where wreaths of blossoms lie; And my face was in the mosses, and the breezes, all unlisting. Wandered past me, and I heard a quav'ring cry, Which welled from somewhere within me, a long cry which naught could sate; 'Twas my soul, bereft and longing, calling, calling to its mate. But the blossoms, nor the oak tree where our names are carven deep. Seemed to give the mound beside me e'en a thought ; Just the breeze came snuggling to me, and it whis- pered : "N"ever weep For the maiden, for her soul is never caught [Bereaved] 137 In that narrow earthen chamber where the worms their revels hold; For the soul seeks warmth and glory, and the grave is dark and cold V^ Then I wandered far and left it, left the grave, earth- cold and deep, For a something whispered to me where to seek, And I know that I shall find you on the other side of sleep, And, although I wake with tear-drops on my cheek, Still I know you wait to greet me where we never more shall part ; But the long and weary v>^aiting, just the waiting, breaks my heart ! AVOW. That I was cross last night most broke my heart, And, when you were asleep, I tiptoed in To where you lay with rosebud lips apart, And tangled curls, and rose-leaf tinted skin, And stood above you for the longest while. Until you sobbed in slumber, and you sighed ; And, dear, that sigh drove back my happy smile, And I remembered ! And I almost cried. 'Twas such a little thing ; you wished to mark Across the pages of the book I read, And I said : "No V You went off in the dark, And mamma rocked you and you went to bed. And to her crooning went to Slumberland ; And when night's stillness wrapped its mantle deep About the world, I crept and held your hand. And bent and softly kissed you in your sleep. 138 [A Voiv] 139 And softly kissed the curtains of your eyes. And lightly kissed your little finger-tips, And your half-parted lips, whence troubled sighs Still fluttered ; and I laid my contrite lips Against your cheek, and, oh, my babe, my dear ! I wept that that one word for which I blamed Myself was ever uttered ; and a tear Fell on your cheek, and I was not ashamed. I think I had forgot all you had done To make me glad, and make this world seem dear ; The old world never smiled back at the sun, And songbirds never caroled half so clear Before you came ! and never drooping bough Whispered so sweet and lilting a refrain ! And I was cross ! dear baby, hear my vow : ni never, never, never be again ! ONLY YOU. When the day gives 'way to twilight, And the sun's red robes are furled, I am thinking of just one woman In all the wide, wide world; I am dreaming of just one sweetheart. Where the night winds shed their dew. In all of the perfumed world For me there is only you. The live oaks spread their branches Afar in a perfumed shade. And the lightning bugs go flitting And darting across the glade. And the night bird's song comes ringing Through the night and the falling dew. And all the world seems singing Of you, dear heart, of you ! 140 [Only You] 141 If 'tis love to recall each pressure Of the hands when we have met, If 'tis love to recall each parting- Till the eyes are dim and wet, And it is, then know I love yon Each day and each night-time through ! In all of the world of women For me there is only you ! In all of this world of women When the sun's red banners furl I seem to see you only, Each wanton and wind blown curl Comes back and is treasured, treasured Where memory^s gods are set ! Of all the world of women It is you I will ne'er forget. A GEM. I know where the opal lies Changing and darkling; I know where, 'neath Eastern skies, Euhies are sparkling; I've ranged the abysses Where pearls glimmer dim, Like tears, or the kisses Of sweet seraphim. But not in Golconda's mines, Not in the sea. Not where the opal shines, Shines one for thee; I'd create thee a gem Of the night and the dew For my love's diadem; Oh, my darling, for you. 142 [A Gem] 143 Just a dash of the blue From a summer's blue skj^; Just a wee drop of dew; Just a mockingbird's cry Toned down to a croon ; Just a touch of the night W%en the bright Southern moon Sheds its mellowing light. Just the first faint perfume That a jasmine doth shed When it opes its first bloom, Then a dash of the red That a trumpet vine holds 'Gainst the tree's shaggy bole, Like love's flame that enfolds And enraptures a soul. Then a sigh from your lips, And a throb from your heart. When the orb of night dips To where lovers must part ; These with strange necromancies, 'Midst night and 'midst dew, I would weave with my fancies, A jewel for you. m SPANISH. I presume that Chiquita is basking today On the sunlit plaza in Montere}', And her eyes flash out 'neath her brow of jet, While deftly she rolleth a cigarette; I would give my life — aye, risk my soul, For the touch of the fingers that deftly roll The fragrant weed ! Ah, Chiquita ! yes, There's a joy untold in their soft caress ! Or there used to be — oh, the Spanish tongue ! Ah, never the anthem of love was sung In so sweet a tone ! I can hear you yet — There are some things, dear, one can not forget ; It was in my heart to give up and stay In the sunlit plazas of Monterey : To let the world and ambition slide. For my own, my Chiquita ! my dusky-eyed ! 144 [In Spanish] ^45 I could tell of a struggle, you know I could ! It hurts like the dickens, this being good ! "T would have been no struggle to stay and bask In the light of your eyes ! No, dear ! the task Was to hit the trail ! I can see your mouth, All apout for kisses ! it draws me south ! And at night in my dreams there's a dainty hand Comes to beckon me over the Eio Grande. Ah, Chiquita, affection can't split in two ! It was a struggle 'twixt eyes o' black and blue, And I left the black ; but I see them yet ! And, deftly rolling a cigarette, I see you, dear, where w^e strolled that day. Through the sunlit plaza in Monterey ! I've no grumble coming ; 'twas mine to choose 'Twixt black and blue, and I chose the blues. So between us two let the river roll ; Black eyes mean passion ; blue eyes mean soul ! And I think I have chosen the better way. Though it leads me from you and from Monterey ; And I am not fickle. Nay, say not so ! I only loved you in Spanish, you know ; And, of course, in love all things are fair, And I've w^on me the maiden with golden hair. SWEET. Oh, slender, swaying hollyhocks, Oh, roses, white and red. Oh, white moon-flowers blossoming When the hot day has sped. And sweet perfumes of lilac blooms, And jasmine odors sweet, And blossom-bordered highways, That coax my prisoned feet; Sweet — passing sweet — are all of you, You hollyhocks that sway ; You roses white and jasmine white. You blossom-bordered way. You white moon-flowers blossoming, You roses flaming red, But my sweet, nightie-robed, wee girl, When ready for her bed. Is sweeter far than all of you, God bless her yellow head ! 146 [Siveet] 147 Is sweeter far than you are sweet, ^^Me 'ays me clown to s'eep '^ She lisps, with arms about my neck, "Me p'ays me soul to teep '' And breezes lift her locks, and drift Them up against my mouth. And she is sweet, and they are sweet, x\s. kisses from the South! And fainter, fainter grows her voice, x^nd soft her eyelids close, And closer, closer to my heart, I clasp my Texas rose; Oh, sweeter than red roses are When the warm day has sped. Oh, sweeter than the memory Of other days, long fled. Is my wee baby, nightie-robed And ready for her bed ! CITY WEARY. When the old, dog-tired feeling gets to tugging at my feet, Then my soul goes out a-wand'ring through whole miles of meadowsweet; When the hotness of the summer gets to surging in my blood, Then I bathe my soul, in fancy, in the coolness of the wood. In the wood where mighty boulders, marked by knob and scar and seam, Lie like the discarded playthings of the giants of a dream ; And the trees are overhanging, showing mottled bits of sky That reflect amid the shallows where the streamlet trickles by. 148 [City Weary] 149 There the trees are huge and scraggy as they used to be, I know, And the teetertail is running in the little stream- lets flow, And huge ferns their fronds are waving like the wands the fays employ For some wayward, wandering, timid, mystery- loving little boy. And the tinting of the forest is all green and gray and gold. And the glades, where we held picnics in enchanted days of old, Lie, I know, just as they used to, but they hear no laugh of glee From the children who once played there, and they're sad as they can be. Trout are darting through the shallows, or are leap- ing in the air. Showing golden sides; as shiny as a little sweet- heart's hair Who went vvading, laughing, splashing with me only yesterday ; Oh, old days, and ways, and gladness ! How they're drifting far away ! 150 SING THE SOUTH. Oh, old days, and ways, and gladness — mother's soft hand on my hair; Father's loud hail just to please me, and to fill me with a scare As the strange mysterious echoes picked it up and, to and fro, Eolled it chuckling through the dimness of the woods I used to know. Oh, the city's heat and smother irks me till my heart is sore ! Oh, the memory haunts me, haunts me, of the woods I knew of yore ! Oh, the old stream calls me, calls me, singing down its pebbled way. To come wading through the shallows like I did just yesterday ! When the dogwoods are in blossom, every blossom gemmed with dew. When the trees have donned new dresses that the sunlight filters through, Then my soul gees out in memory to the woods I used to know, Down the years there's no retracing to the joys of long ago. DRINK. Let's fill the cup^ the loving cup, and of it Drink to ourselves and to the world and love it ; Drink to ourselves, our two selves, 3^ou and me, And all the world ; to blossom nodding lea. To hill and vale, to desert and to wood ; To me the world and you seem more than good ! That's right — ^the cup — your gray eyes glint above it ! Quaff deep and long to all the world — I love it ! To all the world quaff deep and long ; I love it ! You and the world, while you are in and of it. I love the world ! Or whether near or far I know I'm in the world — the one you are ; x\nd so I love the world, its every hue ; This vrorld of ours: this vrorld of me and you; This laughing world, with blue skies bending over, With you, and me, and bees, and fields of clover. 151 152 SING THE SOUTH. Drink long and deep to all the world, and, quaffing, Above the rim show me yonr gray eyes laughing ; Drink to the day, and quaff a cup to night, The starlit night, with every bloom alight With dewy gems left by each passing breeze. With fragrant, clinging grasses to the knees ; Lift up the cup — lift — you and me together — To all the world, and every kind of weather ! Lift high lifers cup, the sparkling, effervescing ! Give me your eyes, now laughing, now caressing ! Give me 3^our lips, your curving lips and red ! Drink deep of life and love ! Fling back your head Till I shall see your rounded, swelling throat Throb as the mockbird's throbs with every note ! Throb with a joy too sweet for any voicing. With a world's love and with a soul's rejoicing! OH, COME TO ME THEN. It is mine to be busy and mine to forget^ And 3^onrs to be glad as the birds are — and, yet — Oh, don't be too glad, too forgetful, for I Shall be lonely sometimes; and the happy gone-by Will woo me, and coax me, and weave the old thrall ^Eound my soul, and my heart, and my senses ; and all That you were you shall be — just as pure, just as fair ! When my soul calls, in memory, come to me there. It will be only sometimes, just sometimes, and yet. It will be when I need you ! The worry and fret Of my strife with the world will have worn the veneer Of my life, dear, so thin that my soul shall appear; And my heart — the old heart, dear, that beat just for you — Shall falter and struggle, and plainly show through Life's husk of pretense ; then, dear, I must go And hide in the past, or the whole world will know. AVIien, amid all your pleasures, a voice whispers low, Of valleys and woodlands and hills, you will know ; And whispers insistent, and will not be still. Of the song of a stream and a lone whippoorwill. And a mill, and an inn, and lagoons in a park ; It will be just my soul calling yours from the dark. Oh, then, to my calling, come back to me, dear. On memory's wings from the far yesteryear. 153 THE LIBEKTINE. A banquet's a wonderful thing, And the toasts of the folk who respond, And the glittering lights and the blossoms that swing ; But out of the hall, and beyond. Out of the glitter and out of the glare. Out of the perfume and out of the glow. Is a curving seat on an oaken stair. And a hall where the lights are low ; And a brown-eyed girl. And a perfumed curl; Way back in the long ago. Way back of the toasts and the talk. And the clinking of glass and the lights. There are low-hung boughs and a moonlit walk, And a wonderful night of nights ! Way back of the napery, back of the years ; Way back of the vases and goblets tall ; Way back of all sorrowing, back of all tears, Is a perfumed fountain whose waters fall. And a brown-eyed girl, And a perfumed curl ; Back — away back of it all. 154 [The Libertine] 155 Yea, aback, way back of it all, Of the glitter, the jest, and the joke. Are the eyes ashine and the lilting call Of a maiden whose heart was broke ! Way back of the wassailry, back of the jeer; "Way back of the laughter at tales you tell, Way back of the ages, the eyes shine clear On you of a maiden who loved you well ; Of a brown-eyed girl With a perfumed curl ; They are lighting your road to hell ! IN DAD^S BED. She said, and she nodded her head each word, "I ^ants to dit in dad's bed, me do ;" But her mother — granting her mother heard — Had nanght to say ; but the voice came through, Through the open door, through the purple gloom. To where her daddy had waked and knew That he wanted her, and he made her room. "I 'ants to dit in dad's bed, me do." And then he waited while moments fleet Dropped away from time in a purple deep, But never a patter of wee bare feet; So he snuggled down and was half asleep When a thin, grieved voice smote on his ear, And he caught the sob in the baby tone ; '"'Ain't papa a-tummin' ? I'ms waitin' here. Does papa 'ants me to tum alone ?" 156 [In Dad's Bed] 157 But later, when she had snuggled down, The grief was gone from her voice away, And the yellow curls from her tousled crown Were spread a-wide when the light of day Came in through the window and touched her head; And her dimpled cheek ; and its mellow tone Like gold-dust lay on the curls outspread. Dad thought of his girl in the dark alone. And he kneeled by the bed ere he went to town, And his lips lay long on the golden head. And the dimpled fist that was hanging down He kissed ; and kissed where upon the spread A pink palm lay like a crinkled rose ; And he kissed the lids of the eyes of blue. And she dreamily said as he kissed her nose : "I 'ants to dit in dad's bed, me do." THE BULLFROG'S TALE. Oh, a frog once lived in a wide, green pool, And he said to himself, said he : "I'm a big bass hit of the third degree ! There is nothing that's just like me ! In the muggy depths, or upon the banks, I am quite the biggest toad ; Ko tadpole ever that's yet been hatched Has equaled the way I've growed." Then he struck a note, and he looked about, And he saw he was alone; And he said : "I've a voice like the nightingale. Of wonderful depth and tone ; And when, oh, say, has a leg like mine Burst on your startled view ? It's the graceful limb of the biggest toad That grows in the v/hole blamed slough." 158 [The Bullfrog's Tale] 159 And he said : "I'm the bulliest bull-toad yet That ever has split the scum ! And the cow-toads and the calf-toads^ too, Have a notion that I am some ! When I trill a note in my swelling throat All other toads are still; While the melody trickles across the slough And echoes beyond the hill. "Oh, I modestly make the claim right here That mine is a voice divine ! There ne^er was a bass that the world has known That was quite so bass as mine " Just then an interruption came, And a bull of beef-extract brand Came prancing down to the old slough^s brink x4.nd stood on the moonlit strand. There was something wrong v/ith his tremolo stop, Or digestion perhaps was bad; At any rate he just stretched his neck And bellowed away like mad ! Then the bull-toad out on the mossgrown log Assumed a look quite bored; And he said : "I wish you'd repeat that note, I think I can catch the chord.'' 160 SING THE SOUTH. So the bull just rumbled away once more. Like a thunder storm a-hoof ; And the bullfrog moved his toadstool off And sat very much aloof; And he said with a sneer : "I can beat that note. And I'll scare that bull to death ! He has never yet heard a voice like mine ; Oh-h-h-h, wait till I get my breath !" So he sat and he sucked the ozone in, And he drank up the atmosphere ; And he said : "That bull will die of fright When my voice strikes on his ear V But an awful finish awaited him — When his bellows of air was full He bu'sted up like a rubber balloon, But he never feazed the bull ! There's a moral tied to this bullfrog's tale. For this bullfrog had a tale ; 'Tis just that ambition uncontrolled Is very like to fail. If you follow the gait of a swifter toad You'll find the game's no joke. It's a pace that will kill all joy you've known. And its finish will see you broke. WOULDN'T YOU? Wouldn't you like to go today and browse On a hill-side slope where the winds carouse In an elfin dance with the daisies tall, And the larks sing loud, and the thrushes call, And the peach and apple blossoms float Like each was an opal-tinted boat With a fairy helmsman, drove along On an airy, fairy stream of song? And you'd almost catch the elfin hail. And an almost glimpse of the elfin sail, And, where you dreamed 'neath the apple tree, The waves would run of *an inland sea ; Each wave's crest white with the marguerites ; And, for where the sea and the headland meets, Just an old gray wall where the shadows flit. And a maid and a lover might come and sit. 161 162 SING THE SOUTH. Heigh-0 ! but I know of a place, I do, For all of the world like that, don't you ? The wall is of square-hewn stones, and grown With a century^s moss, and I carved my own And another's name on its face one day, When she and I, in our childish play. Had climbed the hill and had wandered there; My barefoot sweetheart ! young and fair ! Heigh-o ! I do — I know of the place Where the grassy sea's green billows race. And I know the place where, with rock and nail, I carved our names ; and the blossoms sail In the same old way; but the barefoot maid. With the sky-blue eyes, who stood half afraid By my side, is gone ; and I'm old and lone ; And as gray and worn as the lichened stone. SEA-BORN FOLK. They are born up out of the sea^ these folk; they know of the green hills sliding, Of the rushing valleys in between, of the undertow, low biding To grasp and to hold their slim, wet limbs, till, strug- gling, they go under. Lulled to life's last and dreamless sleep, where, far and faint, the thunder Of combing breakers irks them not, nor the sun's hot passioned kisses ; Aye, they are born up out of the sea ; they know of its green abysses. From the northmost cape of Shurup far to Kutsin Sima's Isle, On naked coast, in sheltered port, know they the sea's each wile ; 163 164 SING THE SOUTH. They know each bellying cloud's intent, a-stoop to kiss the brine ; They know the ways of sea-born winds, their every growl and whine; They meet the wdde Pacific swell in league-on-league- long race, Ajnd skim before the simoon's breath down paths no eye may trace. So they were born out of the sea, all naked, unafraid ; Thrown up on sea-girt isle and shoal, where sea with tempest played, To battle out their destiny. Aye, brown are they, and squat ; But heavy was their way and long, endurance was their lot ; And rugged, tiring labor's way is never beauty's way ; But, better far, it builds for strength and gives the sinews play. And they up from the booming sea have climbed, and taken place In the world's van; have caught the stride, the brine still on their face ; [Sea-Born Folk] 165 Struck China, whom the world half feared, out from their path and wide ; iSTor seemed to think the deed were much, nor fal- tered in their stride ; And now the hulking Euss comes down, hot-blooded, filled with ire; And Fear hath fled the meeting-place where born are death and fire. And they fight well, these sea-born ones, Chemulpo's harbor knows ; It saw them find the lurking foe, heard war's re- sounding blows. And saw the Eussian cruisers beached and useless in the fray. Ere Japan's ships drew ofi: and sped on their triumphant way To where were other deeds to do and other foes to find; Their eyes forever to the front; defeated foes behind. Aye, they fight well, these sea-born folk, they know of the green hills sliding ; Of the ravening hollovrs in between, of the under- tow's low biding; 166 SING THE SOUTH. For they have fought it for their lives as, strangling, the}^ went under; And they have fought the tempest's wrath and laughed to scorn the thunder Of the fierce breakers pounding hard, the tidal wave's grim combing, When God's own wrath swept sea and main, and Neptune's steeds were homing. THE CITY GIRL. She said to the man who was driving the team, "Oh, I'd give almost anything To hear the sweet whiffletree whiffle," she said, "And list to the singletree sing." "They're a-doin' it now," said the sunburned chap, And truth in his accents rung, "They're a-doin' it now, but you just can't hear Because of the waggin' tongue." A BUG. A May-bug blundered in last night, and you Watched everywhere it went around the room ; And, when it came around the light and flew Near you, your face was full of a^vf ul gloom ; And you put down the things with which you played, And sidled up and stood beside my knee; And, when it struck my desk, then you essayed To catch the bug and hand it up to me. Then, when it clung to your wee finger tips, You gave a pitiful, long look to me ; And trembling fear distorted your sweet lips, And when you tried to shake loose and be free, And it did buzz and cling to your white gown, I think your squall was heard away down town. 167 LONGING. Eoses, both white ones and red ones; Violets drenched with dew; And, oh, but the South is bonny ! And, oh, but its skies are blue ! But I sigh sometimes for the Northland, Where lakes and streams congeal; For the red and white roses your smooth cheeks hold, And the swift feet shod with steel ! Blue glories and white narcissus. And all of the fields abloom ! Sweet, sweet are the wind-flung petals ; But, oh, for the Northland brume ! For the slopes all white and gleaming. For your pouting lips and red; For the glad, glad lilt of your laughing voice. And two on a coasting sled ! 168 [Longing] 169 The creak of frosty axles, Borne through the clear, cold air, For shrub and tree all frosty-white, Like locks of an ancient^s hair ; For drifted snow in sheltered spots; But more than all for you ! And the steel-shod flight through the halls of night, ^Neath the star-etched vault and blue ! WOULD WE WERE THERE. Would we were on that green-clad knoll, Whence we two saw the landscape roll In earthen billows far away. Whence we saw distant forests sway Beneath a wind's insurgent whirl ; But which scarce stirred the truant curl On your fair forehead; that sweet tress The roughest winds dared scarce caress ! Would we were there, whence we could see The wealth of valley, hill and tree ; The stream, and hear its angry call. Where, tortured by the waterfall. It sprang in fury ! and then flowed Complaining down its rocky road ; Would we were sitting where today The winds and unleashed torrents play ! 170 WOULD WE WERE THERE. [Would We Were There] 17X Would that we were ! Of late I've dreamed Of those old days, and it has seemed That I have sat — you by my side — Where, at our feet, the valley wide Rolled down beneath the heaven's blue ; And I have dreamed that every hue That then did glad our eyes was there. Each charm of landscape, sky, and air ! Would we again were on that knoll. In sweet communion, soul to soul; Where spoken language was as naught; Where thought swift answered unto thought, And lips were mute, and for the time The scene lacked naught of the sublime ! Wood, vale and hill, and cloud-flecked skies Held some of glory from your eyes ! But wishes wipe no miles away; Dreams never bring back yesterday ; Or, if they do, in phantom guise Intangible — I'd see your eyes Sweet purity look up to mine — Soul windows !— I would see them shine As they did then ! your truant hair Wind-blown and free ! Would we were there ! A SONG. There where good fellowship reigns over all ; There where bright lights on loud wassailry fall ; ^Midst the rattle of chips and the clinking of glass. Where repartee quick, and swift badinage pass, Someone is singing — the words echo through — "I love nobody in this world but you ! Your heart and my heart together shall twine ; You give me your love and I'll give you mine !" Hushed is all laughter, hushed are the quips — What they see I know not, I see red lips ! I feel my heart in your wee hands clasped tight ! I see your eyes with the old look alight ! And my eyes utter softly to your eyes of blue : "I love nobody in this world but you ! Your heart and my heart together shall twine ; You give me your love and I'll give you mine !" 172 [A Soy^g] 173 Yea^ we were standing v/ithin the cool glen, Standing together alone once again ! Deep shade about us, Llue skies overhead, As we stood there in days that forever are dead ! My lips said it not, yet I know that you knew : "I love nobody in this world but you ! Your heart and my heart together shall twine ; You give me your love and I'll give you mine !'^ I saw the huge elm and the scar on its side. And my eyes looked the love that I cared not to hide ; ^Neath the old trysting tree we were sitting again. Gone, gone was our parting, the ache and the pain ! The world seemed created for only us two ! "I love nobody in this world but you ! Your heart and my heart together shall twine ; You give me your love and I'll give you mine !" LONGIISTG FOR YOU. The yellow-winged butterfly dips to the rose ; The cannas flare red, and blue glories unclose On the vine by the porch, all a-sparkle v/ith dew ; But my heart is all sad, for ^tis longing for you. I know where white marguerites stretch o'er the lea. And their perfume conies borne on the breezes to me. And the meadow-lark's wings are a-glint with the dew; But his song is a torture I I'm longing for you ! Still the warm shadows blend o'er the road that we took, And the path wends around by the side of the brook. And the wide water smiles back to heaven its blue ; But my heart knows it not ; it is longing for you ! 174 [Longing For You] 175 Where the sycamore bends, where the bubbles float down, Where the trout seems asleep in the pool's umber brown. And the gold of the sunlight is filtering through, There was joy ere I knew this wild longing for you. N'ight falls like a benison on the old vale; There's a tinkle of cowbells along the old trail ; But far, far wend my ways, and all bordered with rue, And no promise of peace lights my longing for you. HIS RESTING. I've been longing, longing, longing, and awaiting, dear, your coming; Since we twain, our fingers interlaced, walked down the river road; On the bridge that spans the river I have heard the drumming, drumming, Of horses' feet, and heard them as they clattered down the road. I have watched the daisies blossom, and have watched the white leaves falling. And have seen the red rose petals sifting softly to the ground. And have watched the birds flv south vrard, and niv heart kept calling, calling; But the wind brought back no answer, and the world seemed in a swound ! 176 [His Besting] 177 So from springtime, through the summer, till the autumn leaves are sifting On the breath of coming winter, many winters, shall I go, Ere the snows above my resting, softly coming down and drifting, Wath their whiteness hide the portal to the journey all must go. Till the spring breeze whispers softly, whispers o'er me in its questing : ^^It must be that he is sleeping, whom we knew so long ago ; Still it seems, if he is sleeping, that he takes full long for resting. And it seems he should be waking when the red wild-roses blow.'' And the breeze shall softly ponder: ^^Tall white marguerites are blowing. And the field-lark's, and the cat-bird's, and the oriole's loud call Send their echoes o'er the landscape, and sleek wide- eyed cows are lowing — Strange he gives so long to resting, he who once so loved it all." 178 SING THE SOUTH. "Strange he gives ho much to resting; that his slumber so long presses Down the lids that used to open with the first light- shafts of day, When the clouds across the heavens were outspread like burnished tresses — He who o'er the dew-wet meadows used to take delighted way." "But it must have been the maiden, she who in his life came floating Vagrant as the thistledown that wafts so lightly by ; Aye, it must have been — it must have been — the moonlit walks, the boating ; Must have been the kiss at parting, must have been the pensive eye." "But the maiden was not for him, was not for him, and the knowing That he never, ne'er could win her, should have irked him not so much That he should so long for resting when she left him, and, in going. Left him heavy-hearted, fevered, for her peace-com- pelling touch." [His Besting] 179 "But he's resting — while the maiden — aye, what of her? In his sleeping Does she sometimes walk beside him? If he's sleeping, he must dream ; And she must be with him sometimes. Leave him resting, where the cheeping Of the katydids shall soothe him, and the singing of the stream.'^ BYE-0, BABY. Like a breath upon the pane Day is sped, 'tis night again, Darkness covers hill and plain, Bye-o, bye-o, baby. Just a humble trundle-bed When the hours of day are sped, For my little tousle-head, Bye-o, bye-o, baby. Just a hiding of the blue Of the skies and eyes o' you, Just a lullabye or two, Bye-o, bye-o, baby. Just a roughly home-made spread, And husk pillow for your head. Just a little trundle-bed, Bye-o, bye-o, baby. 180 [Bye-o, Baby] 181 But, oh, tousle-head, my dove, Years, when mamma's up above. You'll look back to it with love, Bye-o, bye-o, baby. Now the eyelids flutter down, Now the shadows hide the town. Shadows blue and umber brown, Bye-o, bye-o, baby. God watch over where you lie, Smooth the paths your feet must try, Reunite us by and by, Bye-o, bye-o, baby. A TIE. I tied her shoes, They were tasseled ties ; And I watched her eyes, They were gray, gray eyes ; And I fumbled some As I tied the knot, And her gray eyes laughed. And my hands grew hot As I tied her shoes, Tied her tassled ties. And my heart grew hot As I watched her eyes. As I watched her eyes — Why, her ankle trim A¥as encased in silk, x\nd as smooth and slim As a dream-created 182 V. AND HER GRAY EYES LAUGHED. [A Tie] 183 Thing could be ! And I watched her eyes, And they laughed at me As they saw my upraised Eyes enthuse, And my clumsy hands As I tied her shoes. Ah, maiden fair, And slim, and tall, Tliere be many things Hold a man in thrall ; But for tiny shoes. And for tasseled ties. And an ankle trim. And for gray, gray eyes, And lace lingerie — Ah, if you choose You can tie a heart To your tasseled shoes. THE BEST HOUE. "Get down on the floor here, daddy ; Get down on the floor and play.'^ And that is the song my baby Sings to me at close of day. "Get down on the floor and tumble ; Get down with me, daddy, do. Get down on the floor now, daddy; Me 'ants to sit down on you.^^ Then overboard goes the paper. And down on the floor goes dad. And onto him clambers baby, And baby is more than glad. And daddy's a horse and wagon, Or daddy's a ship at sea And rolls with a little baby As happy as she can be. 184 [The Best Hour] 185 Yea, rolls with the habe and tumbles And grumbles and haws and gees, And always a dimpled baby, With rounded and dimpled knees. Sits perched aloft unfearing And laughing with childish glee As the daddy ship goes tossing And tumblinof across the sea. And, oh, but that ship is careful ! The waves may foam and curl. But never the ship goes plunging Too much for the baby girl. And never the horse gets fractious Or plunges or jumps aside So much as to mar the pleasure Of the wee little girl astride. Oh, good is the hour of gloaming, When labor is put aside And daddy becomes a horsey A wee little girl may ride, Or daddy becomes a plunging Big ship on the stormy seas And is guided and captained onward By a baby with dimpled knees. LONG AGO. I held her and kissed her — Her lips were as red As the rose in her hair — And she kissed me, and said- Oh, what does it matter The thing said, or how ? I know that I kissed her On cheek and on brow. And that was so long, Oh, so long, long ago ! Like the lilt of the song That I heard, soft and low, My dear mother sing me. The mem'ry comes now Of the kiss she gave me, And my kiss on her brow. 186 [Long Ago] 187 ^Tis a dream that will never Be true here again ; Ah, mothers and kisses Are not made for men ! They are made for wee fellows, Tve had ^em, I know; For I was a boy In the long, long ago. Aye, I was a boy, Just a tow-headed tad. All that gives a boy grief. All that makes a boy glad, I knew, and I had In the long, long ago. With the sweet mother kisses My lips used to know. And I'll not forget — Ah, her lips were as red As the rose in her hair — How she kissed me and said — Ah, what does it matter — I loved her, I know. The laughing young mother I kissed long ago ! LONGING FOR TEXAS. No, it isn't hot in Texas ; and the cool night dews are falling, And the katydids are chirping in the grass beside the pool ; And from out the moonlit distances the mocking- birds are calling, And I know the days are hazy and the nights perfumed and cool ! And I know the jasmine's blooming as it bloomed in all its whiteness, And my heart is heavy in me for I'm far away today. And my spirit lags forever, and my tread has lost its lightness. And I'm humming "Down in Dixie," and my heart throbs "Look away !" 188 [Longing for Texas] 189 Oh, it isn't hot in Texas, for the cool gulf breeze is blowing, And the cattle are a-standing underneath the largo oak trees, Or are wending slowly homeward from the pasture, lowing, lowing. And a drone comes softly to me from the honey- laden bees. And I'm longing, longing, longing, for the day of my home-coming. For the lowing of the cattle, and the shadows on the stream ; For the mocking-bird^s far calling, and the laden bee's soft humming. And the night dews falling coolly as the shadows in a dream. Oh, the rolling, rolling prairie, and the grasses wav- ing, waving. Like the billows 'neath the gulf breeze in the per- fumed purple gloom ! And my heart is heavy, heavy, and my eyes are crav- ing, craving. For the fertile plains and forests of my far off Texas home. LIZA. Liza's cominV comin', Hear the streamlet laff ; Liza is a-comin', Hear th' mockbird chaff; See th' birds an' blossoms a-wavin' on th' lea, That's bekuz ni}- Liza-girl trips along ter me. Ain't th' air perfumey? Ain't th' moments fleet ? Oh, my heart is roomy For my Liza sweet ; An' I wait 'er comin', heart a-jump with glee ; Birds are singin' : "Liza ! Liza comes ter me !" Shady paths are wendin' Where we'll wander through. Boughs are jest a-bendin' ^Neath their weight o' dew, While I wait fer Liza, jest th' buds an' me Hear her sweet voice carolin', comin' o'er th' lo;''., 190 [Liza] 191 Hear ilr echoes ringin', Silver tones an' sweet; Mockbird stops his singin^, Hers is such a treat ; Buds are ne'er so pretty, ne'er so sweet as she, Nothings sweet as Liza when she comes ter me. What makes Liza hold me In such bondage sweet, Till her charms enfold me Kneelin' at her feet ? Till my heart seems burstin^ bubblin' songs o' glee? Jest 'cause I love Liza-girl ; she belongs ter me. WHY? "Oh, why does he love me ?" The sweet maiden sighed, Selecting the garments She'd wear as a bride; "Oh, what's there about me To've made such a mash?^^ Then the clerk rapped the counter And hollered out : "Cash V THE JOUENEY. Oh^ loud is the laughter, and gleeful the song, And dancing and lilting the stepping along, And the hailing of friends soundeth loud in the throng, When we are anew to the road. And sweet are the wee, baby lips to our own. And rare are the blossoms of life, fully blown. And love — how it deepens in every loved tone, When Vv^e are midway of the road. And rest — oh, the peace of the nearness of rest ! ^^^len the burly and burly of life, and its zest Are over, and when the sun glows in the west. And we near the end of the road. Oh, well to have lived in this earthly abode. To have laughed and have loved and have borne well the load. To have drifted along with the stream as it flowed. To the rest at the end of the road. 192 A WEE, DIMPLED BUNDLE ASLEEP ON YOUR ARM. MOTHER-SOIS^GS. Just listen at night when your baby is sleeping, A wee, dimpled bundle asleep on your arm, And the wind of the night is across the sill creeping, And touching the lips where the breath flutters warm. And you'll seem to hear from the night and the dis- tance The sweet luUabyes that you heard long ago ; That your dear mother sang with the loving insist- ence That lulled you to sleep as you swung to and fro. Just clasp your own babe as the white moon is lifting Above the dark trees or the roofs of the town, And from the soft clouds, through the purple night drifting. The songs that you knew shall come fluttering down. 193 194 SING THE SOUTH. The songs that your own mother, lifting and swing- in f Sang to you soothingly, ^ong, long ago, The songs that yourself to your own babe were singing The years shall give back in a voice you will know. At night when the mist in the valley is lying, Your babe in your arms, is the time for the spell; When the night-bird calls loud and its mate is re- plying. And the night wraps the valleys your heart knows so well, Oh, listen, then listen, you'll hear a voice calling, The voice of the mother-love, stronger than death ; And through the blue night like a sweet incense fall- ing, The old purple lilac shall send you its breath. Then bend down and kiss the wee sleeping babe's dimples. And snuggle her to you, and softly intone The old lullabyes, the old streamlet that wimples Still sings by the home that your heart calls its own. [Motlier-Songs] 195 Just through your own mother-love shall the replying Come down the long years bringing balm to your heart, And the wee, rosebud lips warmly 'gainst your breast lying Shall kiss all the grief from your life, and it? smart. WOERIED. I did forget the chocolates I meant to bring to you ; I did forget the fanny page From Sunday's paper, too; I did forget the "so big" doll You ordered ine to bring — Did I remember anything? I didn't;, not a thing. I just remembered that last night You coughed some in your sleep, I just remembered I awoke And worried, just a heap ; I just remembered that your cheek Was hot when pressed to mine. And that I left this morning, dear. Before the daylight's shine. 196 [WonHed] 197 I jvist remembered, dearie mine, The whole day's to and fro, That yon seemed not exactly well, And that I loved yon so ! I just remembered, little girl, When noontime's whistles blew. That I was foot-loose and might go A-hnrrying to you. And then, when I drew near, dear heart. Where you were wont to run, No baby ran to meet her dad, No curls danced in the sun. And no arms went around my neck, And no one shrieked in glee. And no one called, "My papa's tum !" No lips were pursed for me. And I was worried such a lot, And the old house did seem Like some place I had known of yore, Or dreamed of in a dream ! My heart was 'way down in my shoes Until I heard you call : "Peek-a-boo, papa !" then it bounced Up like a rubber ball. 198 SING THE SOUTH. And didn't I just hunt you out From where you hid from me ! And didn't I just tousle you Until you shrieked with glee ! The roses red were in your cheeks, Again your blue eyes shone, And you were well as you could be, My own, my baby own ! And that's how I came to forget : I thought so much of you I could not think to get the things That you had told me to ; But now, when I go back to town, I'll get tliem all, all right; Be sure to run and meet me, now. When I come home tonight. DAYS 0' JUNE. Noondays o' June days ! Oh, the days o^ June ! Oh, the nights and moon's rays ! Oh, the love-bird's croon ! Oh, the woodland choristers ! Oh, their lilting tune ! Oh, the flower-bordered ways, bonny ways o' June ! Oh, the welkin clear! Oh, love's blue, blue eyes ! Oh, the whisper low and near ! Oh, the hand that lies For a moment in one's own ! then, ah, all too soon, Hand and eyes and days are flown ! Ah, the days o' June! 199 DISAPPOINTED. "A Poem to a Daisy/' Eead the caption, and, lieigh-o ! I was full of joy, and crazy ! Till I got a chance to go Off to read it ; for I knew There'd be blossoms dipped in dew, There'd be cloud-ships of rare whiteness Sailing in the ether blue, As they felt the summer's perfumed breezes blow. "A Poem to a Dais}^" So the rhythmic caption read — Oh, the morning sun was haz}'. And the whole wide world was spread With a carpet of the sheen Of the smoothest softest green That had ever formed a carpet, Or my eyes had ever seen ! And the skies were blue as turquoise overhead. 200 I Disappointed] 201 "A Poem to a Daisy/' Oh, I read it, read it through^ And the reading drove me craz}^, And it filled my heart with rue ; Its imagery was rare, And its skies were blue and fair ; But it never spoke, not ever. Of blue eyes and golden hair ! ISTo, it never, never, never mentioned you ! Just a stocking, wee, and a rubber doll, An old pipe-case and a darning ball, A rubber cat, some sleighbells, and A paper wad in a rubber band ; Some empty boxes, casters, too, A baby shoe Vv'ith the toe worn through; A string of spools and an Irish spud. And a round-cheeked apple, red as blood- All these are scattered about my den Till the house's mistress wakes again. A DOUBLE PRAYEE. Tonight we've scanned the pictured page, And I have given fancy rein The thirst for knowledge to assuage Of my wee hairn ; and I have slain The dragon with St. George's blade, And done rare deeds of derring-do By sunny way and moonlit glade, Till sleep has closed her eyes of blue. Till sleep has closed her eyes of blue, And she lies on my arm all still ; The footprints of the night, in dew, Are on the lawn, and clear and shrill The mockbird's song rings through the night From the top twig of yonder tree ; And, oh, her form so wee and slight, Seems like a fairy tale to me ! 202 [A Double Prayer] 203 And I would slay a dragon, too, For her dear sake, and mount and ride By fell, and brake, and mount, and slough, And stem all storm and battling tide, If so I might insure that she Should know no ruth through all her days ; Should walk where birds sing in the trees, By pleasant and bloom-bordered ways. For she' s the world, and more, to me ; My dreams come true, my bunch of bliss; The light on life's tempestuous sea; My morning and my evening kiss ; With her dear arms about my neck. And her dear eyes with joy a-glow. The Universe might go to wreck. And I believe I'd hardly know. She said : "I 'ays me down to s'eep And heavy drooped the golden head, "Me p^ays 'e Lord I'ms soul to teep And now she's ready for her bed. And daddy adds a vvord or two : "Oh, God, do as You will with me ; But smooth the paths of Eyes-o'-blue, Oh, God, be good to Marjorie V A GOOD OLD WORLD. The mocking-bird In the ellum-tree, Oh, he sings, "The world Looks good to me !" And the katydid When it comes night Chirps loud and long : "The world's all right !" And I woke last night From my slumber deep, And I heard my babe Laugh in her sleep ; And I stooped above Where my babe was curled, And I told myself : "It's a good old world !" 204 LULLABYE. Elf land horns are faintly blowing, Blowing, blowing, Faintly calling ; Little folks are sleepy growing, Growing, growing ; Lids are falling; Wearily each shoe and stocking Comes away ; ontside the mocking Of the mockbird swinging, rocking On its perch rings clear and high Mingling with a killabye. Little folks asleep are falling. Falling, falling. Sleepy growing ; Far away night-birds are calling. Calling, calling ; Cows are lowing; Soon will all the world be sleeping. Babes in mothers^ arms are creeping. And the katydids are cheeping To the moon up in the sky, All intoning "Lullabye." 205 A SMOKE. Ah, what is so good as a good cigar ? Not the hopes of the future that fly afar ; N'or the joys of the past, for they are gone With the past to die ! How time has flown ! In sorrow I ever have found relief From the fragrant breath of the burning leaf; And have quaffed deep, deep of the rare delight That lurks in a weed that is wrapped just right. And ever and ever as ashes fall, And the smoke wreaths curl shall voices call Thro' the misty years to me, to me, And my life shall be w^hat I'd have it be — A spirit of pleasure lies bound within The dark brown curve of the glossy skin. And happy Fancy doth preen for flight While trouble goes out with the match I light. 206 $^- k THE FRAGRANT BREATH OF THE BURNING LEAF. [A Smole] 207 Such a rare veined leaf and wondrous gloss Is only grown 'neath the Southern Cross, In far-off isles of the Southern seas ; Where Night lies hushed by the melodies That ripples sing in a monotone As they lave the shores of the broad lagoon ; And a fairy's kiss on each leaf brings forth The golden spots that shall prove its worth. And it comes to me in the day's decline, In the hour when rest and content are mine, And it is sweeter than maiden^s kiss. Less fraught with grief, more full of bliss ; And 'neath caresses my lips bestow The smoke-wreaths rise and fancies flow- In a rhythmic sweep, now near, now far — Ah, there's joy and peace in a good cigar ! THE FLAGS. Aye, bring the flags, the tattered and shot-torn, The rent and faded banners that were borne By hands now dust and cheered by lips now dead, Flung high o'er ramparts rent with shot and red With blood of brave, brave men of North and South ! Aye, bring them back ! With eyes tear-dimmed, and mouth Whose lines show grief and back of grief a pride. The South will take them ! For these flags have died Brave men — no braver ! in the rain of death The flags they yielded only with their breath. Aye, bring the flags, the flag at Sharpsburg lost ! And bring the flag at Appomattox tossed ! Bring them to Dixie where, for what they mean, The hearts long dust, the weary years between. Old Dixie's strains, the far-flung rebel yell, The sons who died in war's red seething hell. They will be treasured, kissed with pain-drooped mouth ! There is no North today nor any South ; Abreast they march where unwon heights still gleam ; But save the flags, mementoes of a dream. 203 EAY. It does not seem so long ago, ' ISTot long ago at all, I heard you trotting to and fro ; Or, coming down the hall, I heard you pause outside my door, And listened for your call. A little lass with lint-white locks And skin of satin sheen. And coral lips that barely showed The pearly teeth between ; Then vou were three — or was it four ? And now you are sixteen ! And now you are sixteen ! Heigh-oh ! Where have the glad years flown ? Where is the little girl in white Who cheered me when alone. Before I had a little home And wee girl of my own ? 209 210 SING THE SOUTH. Do you remember old dog Jim Who slejot across my door ? Do you remember "Billy horse'' You used to ride of yore ? And wee Ben chasing candle-bugs? Joys you will know no more. Heigh-oh ! I'm getting more than old, To muse in such a strain O'er dogs and boys and little girls I shall not know again ; Though they are back there in the past, Life's an unturning lane. But I am glad you are sixteen ; Brown eyes I used to know Laugh back at me with the same look I knew, and soft and low A voice says : "She is just as sweet As in the long ago." SWEETHEART. Sweetheart, my sweetheart, Now come the days of rue ; The chilling days of weary ways. The ways that know not you ; Oh, you are young and I am old, Am old and growing gray. It seems like losing youth again To see you go away. Oh, Sweetheart, my sweetheart, It seems like scarce a day Since you were just a gleeful child. Barefooted at your play ; And now you're old and fair and tall- What ? Fifteen, did you say ? Aye, lithe and lissome and fifteen, And I — I'm growing gray. 211 212 SINO THE SOUTH. Sweetheart, my sweetheart, When others come to woo. When other ones of your own age Come shyly seeking you, Eemember that old other one, Knight-errant now grown gray. Who knew you when a gleeful child, Barefooted at your play. Sweetheart, my sweetheart. Life's shaded ways and cool Will seem but lone and wearisome With you away to school ; Though I shall listen for your voice. So lilting yesterday, 'Tis gone — I lose my youth again The day you go away. ^12" ^*>^ ' FOR ONE y.ORE DAY OF THE ROWDY-DOW. WANTED. Wanted — To trade a few gray hairs For some other days and some other wheres; A wrinkled and somewhat time-worn brow For one more day of the rowdy-dow Of a careless youth ; and a bent old form For the time when my blood flowed quick and warm ; And a crackled old voice for the shriek of glee That the dear old life once brought to me ! Wanted — To trade life's garnered lore For the dear old things that I knew of yore ; All, all of the learning derived from books, For the bubbling glee of the running brooks ; And wanted — To trade each falt'ring limb For the springy step and the youthful vim Which carried me up through the morning mist To the wooded crests that the sun had kissed. 213 214 SING THE SOUTH. Wanted — To barter the city's street For the country's ways and the perfumes sweet, For the rolling fields and new mown hay ; And the cares of life for a chance to play On the old-time hills where a boy I pla3^ed, Where wind-blown blossoms dipped and swayed, Where autumn's glories flamed and rolled Down the wooded slopes like a sea of gold. Wanted — A bargain with you, Time ; All, all I have for a chance to climb Up the winding roads to the sun-kissed hills. Through the ferny brake to the singing rills— Ah ! woe is me ! I can offer naught — Not all of the honors my toil hath bought Are worth a day of the old-time joy That I used to have as a barefoot boy. TO THE NEW-BORN. Just as you came I looked off to the east, And your sister, four years old, her hand in mine, Stood looking off there with me ; and the clouds Were heaped and piled, with every fold a-shine With ruddy gold cast by the rising sun ; And all the air about us seemed the hue Of yellow wine ; and so we stood and looked. Then turned about and looked — and there was you ! And there you were, in warm pink swaddling clothes, And thence your voice arose, thin as the note The winds play on the river reeds, and sweet, As sweet to me as from the mockbird's throat; You cried ; and that you cried, oh little girl, I wondered not ; I saw the gates ajar That let vou out of heaven, and I saw The cheapness of the home where now you are. 215 216 SING THE SOUTH. And that you cried I wondered not at all ; To be so flung from Paradise were bad, But to be flung into such arms as mine Were more than bad ; that you can e'er grow glad Because of your changed state 'tis hard to think ; But I will try so hard to do my part To make you glad ; you know, dear, that you fell Not in my arms alone, but in my heart. Not into just my arms, but in my heart And in my life, and in your mother's, too ; Say, did you flnd us unprepared at all ? Did we not smile as we were waiting you ? Oh, nameless one, oh, helpless one, and wee, You don't know half how sweet a world is this : And I will watch you, guide you, through it all, And wake you every morning with a kiss. 0^ X^^^'J' V'^^*/ \*^^'/ % 5^ *'o • . * "^z ^ ^0^ v.^ '\^^? ^ "^ .*^.^:''''^ .o*..-!',V 0^ :j^^ - '^o sO- 4 . 'y ^ ov :■ WERT BOOKBINDING ^: j^ *!mM': 1 ,0^ \ ^ fff An-' 1989 ^- / \ *^^\/ .