S 3523 E155 5 921 lopy 1 5 WILD GEESE AND OTHER POEMS BY ANNIE GRIM LEAVENWORTH Class 1 QOSC'W Book > Z-\55 w5 COESRIGHT DEPOSIT. WILD GEESE AND OTHER POEMS Wild Geese and Other Poems By 7 -ANNIE CRIM LEAVENWORTH NEW YORK JAMES T. WHITE & CO. 1921 W 6 \<*{d\ COPYRIGHT, 1921 James T. White & Co. )C!,A6il063 <4U> t A -.-> To Mary A. Meyer With love and gratitude MAR 10192! WILD GEESE AND OTHER POEMS For permission to reprint many of the following poems grateful acknowledgments are due to the Cen- tury Magazine, Churchman, Farmer's Wife, Living Church, Lyric, Munsey's, People's Home Journal, Snappy Stories, Smith College Verse, Today's House- wife, Woman's Magazine, and other publications. CONTENTS WILD GEESE AND OTHER POEMS WILD GEESE 13 WAYFARER 14 FLAMES 15 MINNOWBROOK l6 SEA GULL l8 THE CHANNEL 19 THE VOICE OF THE MOUNTAIN 20 SANCTUARY 21 WIND AND SUN — IN SPRING 22 THE MOCKING BIRD 23 DOGWOOD 25 FICKLE 26 APRIL ECHOES 27 SURSUM CORDA 28 THREE WHO PASSED IN APRIL 2Q SILVERMINE 30 SPRING AND FALL 2)2 HONEYSUCKLE 33 LOVE SONG 35 MAY NIGHT 36 A MIDSUMMER DAY DREAM 37 ECHO 38 BITTERSWEET 39 PINES 40 cat-tails 41 vacation's end 42 CONTENTS— Continued FAINTHEART 43 YOUNG LOVE 44 WELCOME 45 IF LOVE WERE ALWAYS LAUGHTER 46 THE CHALLENGE 47 GOODBYE 48 THE HEART OF SONG 49 SHADOWS 50 TO MY LOVE 51 SYMPATHY 52 KEEP ME FOR COMFORT 53 THE BRIDE 54 ENCORE 55 WEARY .'. 56 AFTER 57 THE CROWNING GIFT 58 FAREWELL 59 FIRE FANCY 60 FOREVER 6l OCTOBER 62 THANKSGIVING 63 REMEMBERING 64 I'VE WOVEN ME NEW LOVES 65 METAMORPHOSIS 66 LULLABY . . 67 THE LESSON 68 CONTENTS— Continued TO MY DAUGHTER °9 MUSIC 70 THE EXILE 7 1 WORKADAY 73 THE TASKS 74 THE CAGE 75 THE LITTLE LANE OF LOVING 7& IN THE LONELY YEARS 77 CARNIVAL AND OTHER POEMS CARNIVAL 8l SISTER OF CHARITY °5 ASH WEDNESDAY &7 IN LENT 88 FROM THE SHADOW .4 89 THE YOUNG TEACHER 9 1 THE OLD TEACHER 9 2 YE BLESSED 93 HIS LOVING CUP 95 HALF-FORGOTTEN 9° PENNY SONGS 97 SONG 98 WILD GEESE The wild geese flew to the South last night. I heard their honk as they steered them past, And my wild heart leaped to their arrow-flight; But the night was dark, and the geese fly fast. A bugle note through the windless sky — More clear, more loud, then more faint, more low. They left no trace I could follow by, For there's never a track where the wild geese go. And I was swept with a quick despair As fainter echoed their speeding calls, For their wings were swift on the pathless air, While my heart's wings beat against four gray walls. 13 WAYFARER O, I was born a gypsy And was shod in gypsy shoon When still I was a baby Babbling for the moon; And the wind that rocked my cradle- It sang a gypsy tune. O, the gypsy shoon have borne me To many a friendly door Where loving hearts would hold me To share their sheltered store; But I never could stay for hearing The song the night wind bore. 14 FLAMES The flames leap up the chimney And spurn the stolid logs They're whipping into ashes Between the dumb firedogs — The red flames, the gold flames, They flaunt their ragged togs. The flames leap up the chimney — They're swallowed in the dark. Its soot-throat gapes to catch them And leaves no slightest mark Of blue flame or red flame Or whisking golden spark. The flames die in the chimney; The fire dies in the night; The embers blink and crumble To ashes gray and white From red flames — poor dead flames- And flames of silver light. 15 MINNOWBROOK Minnowbrook — I never knew What a spell a name can brew Till I heard them tell of you. I can see the silver gleam Of your prattling mountain stream Flashing through my hazy dream. Minnowbrook — I hear the brawl Of your tumbling waterfall Hidden, half, in grasses tall. Alders bending close about Quiet pools where — not a doubt — One might catch a speckled trout. Minnowbrook — high flags that wade Where your shallows flecked with shade Harbor minnows unafraid. Then beneath the wooded hill Stands a lazy, log-hewn mill Whose slow wheel your waters fill. Minnowbrook — and can you know, As your lakeward way you go, All the beauties that you show? 16 Do you know the very thought Of your crystal course is fraught With a blessing magic-wrought ? Minnowbrook — I never knew What a spell a name can brew Till I heard them tell of you. 17 SEA GULL The great gray waves lift mountain-high And toss the huge ship on their breast. The tempest howls a wailing cry- Above the towering waters' crest. The mighty vessel shuddering swings While wakeful watch the lookouts keep; But a tiny gray bird folds its wings And cradles on the vast gray deep. 18 THE CHANNEL They played a giddy, ragtime thing In measure with the vessel's beat, And then a song with luring swing To time a Spanish dancer's feet; While those who heard laughed out to see The young folks frolic at its call; But to the Channel's history, Its legends and its mystery, They gave no thought at all. 'Twas here, his courtiers' boast to shame, Canute once bade the waves be still; 'Twas here ambitious Caesar came With Roman arms to work his will; And fathoms, fathoms deep below, In graves unnumbered and unwept, Where they had sunk long years ago O'erpowered by storm and earthly foe, Old Spain's grim galleons slept. But those aboard, what reckoned they Of Rome and Spain and British lore? They only saw the lighthouse ray Flash out protection from the shore; They only heard the merry band Blare music to the dancing waves; And wheeling gaily hand-in-hand, With hearts that could not understand, They danced o'er nations' graves. 19 THE VOICE OF THE MOUNTAIN Oh, dare you face eternal things That in my silence grow And feel my brushing angel-wings, You from the world below? Or can you, gazing down from high Upon the pigmy earth, Bid friends and race and goal goodby And die to second birth? Have you the courage to resign Your fiercely guarded store Of self, and make your spirit mine Till you are you no more? If this you dare, then come to me, Frail children of the clods; And though yourselves can nothing be, Myself can make you gods. 20 SANCTUARY Sunlight in the valley, A haze upon the hills; The wonderwoven beauty My heart with glory fills. No human tongue has spoken To bid my soul rejoice; Just in the haze, a Presence; And in the calm, a Voice. 21 WIND AND SUN— IN SPRING High, low — sigh, blow, — Hurry from East and West, Hurry from North and Southland, From valley and mountain crest. Whisper to every flower And tell to each folded leaf That summer is calling — calling, And life, at the most, is brief. Gleam, sun! Beam, sun! Smile on the sleeping earth. Waken its sluggish pulses To the joy of a green rebirth. Warm with your kiss the furrows And cheer every bud you meet With the faith of uncounted ages — That life, at its best, is sweet. 22 THE MOCKING BIRD The singin'est song that ever I heard Is sung in the spring by the mocking bird. He sits on a limb and just for fun Takes a heap of tunes and pours them into one, Gurgling them, and crying them, and rippling them, and trilling, Bubbling them, and whistling them, — twee, twee, twee! Seems as if the notes come out so fast they come a-spilling, Seems as if he's laughing and a-calling this to me, — "Ha, ha, ha! And a ho, ho, ho! "I might be a cat and I might be a crow — "You can't tell the difference, I know. "Look if you like, but you can't find me "Hid in this old persimmon tree." I pull in my mule and I look all around From the top of the tree to the top of the ground; Then comes a streak of white and gray And from 'way off yonder the song drifts back my way, Gurgling back, and crying back, and rippling back, and trilling, Bubbling back, and whistling back, — twee, twee, twee! 23 Seems as if the notes come out so fast they come a- spilling, Seems as if he's laughing and a-calling this to me, — "Ha, ha, ha! And a ho, ho, ho! "I might have been a cat and I might have been a crow — "Yon couldn't tell the difference, I know. "Blind Brother Mortal, couldn't you see "I was sitting in that old persimmon tree?" 24 DOGWOOD On still spring nights you can see them When there's a phantom breeze And the moonbeams slip through the shadows To join in their revelries — The little white ghosts of the dogwood Dancing among the trees. Silent the sleeping forest. Just from the brook a rare Murmur of restless dreaming As it moves in its bed; and there The little white ghosts of the dogwood Dance in the spring-sweet air. They thrill to a soundless music That trembles in pulsing bars, And never a note of discord Their rhythmical rapture mars, For the little white ghosts of the dogwood Dance to the song of the stars. 25 FICKLE You smile from off the eastern hill A promise you will not fulfill Upon your way; For sudden rains come pouring down And then you laugh to see us frown, O April day! 26 APRIL ECHOES April loves and April laughter, April songs, — and then soon after, April sorrows, April sighs, Rainbow gleams in April skies. Youth a-dream and Youth a-daring, Youth a-tiptoe to be sharing Life and happiness together In the quivering April weather. Glad the living, glad the going, — Gladder far the never knowing Whether joy or bitter sorrow, Dawns with faraway to-morrow. Ah, but you whose blood flows fleetest Cannot know we have the sweetest, Finest blessing — to remember Looking back from dim December. 27 SURSUM CORDA When April sunshine lingers On tender greening hills And roots reach thirsty fingers To April-showered rills, The birds that watch the miracle Pour forth their praises lyrical Like golden sunbeams captured By tiny throats enraptured, When April sunshine lingers On tender greening hills. When April showers patter On sunkissed swelling sod, No mortal grief can matter — Our hearts mount up to God. Though winterworn and faltering, We feel His love unaltering, Renew the pledge of life to us — That peace will come through strife to us, When April showers patter On sunkissed swelling sod. 28 THREE WHO PASSED IN APRIL Up the street and down the street And through the winding ways Shy Evening crept on tiptoe In robe of April haze; And two there were who walked with her Unseen by mortal gaze. The eyes of one outshone the sun As madly he did sing; And weary folk were heartened, For, soft as whispering, Upon their eyes in sweet surprise They felt the breath of Spring. And all the while, with wistful smile Both sad and fair to see, The other scattered incense That drifted far and free, And passersby, not knowing why, Kept tryst with Memory. 29 SILVERMINE An Allegheny glade I know Called Silvermine. A fitful forest path is led Along a brook's rough-pebbled bed By hundred mossy streamlets fed That drop their pearls like tinkling bells From rocky-sided, fern-grown dells Whose chime to rippling music swells — Up Silvermine. The hoary-headed mountains lean Their woody sides of shaded green To shelter close the magic scene, Enfolding it with silence rare That trembles on the pine-sweet air With echoing bird songs everywhere. And there you find among the rest The cardinal with flaming crest Has built his leafy hidden nest; And you can hear him from a tree Pour out his heart so merrily It makes you thrill in sympathy Up Silvermine. 30 There glossy laurels lightly fling Their loveliness each perfect spring In pink and white abandoning; And towering rhododendrons spread Their rosy foam high overhead In gleaming greenness garlanded, While straight-boled, stately tulip trees And wax magnolias catch the breeze That hums with eager honey bees, And blushing redbuds hide their glow In farflung dogwood's cooling snow. — A nook in Paradise I know — 'Tis Silvermine. 31 SPRING AND FALL When from the hills the laughing rills O'er rocky barriers leaping With joyful shout come rushing out, Through quiet valleys sweeping; When from the earth in radiant birth The first brave blossoms springing Nod dainty heads from leafy beds, They set my heart a-singing, — Heigh ho for every growing thing! Come, welcome, lark and swallow! For spring is here to greet the year And summer soon will follow. When from the trees a madcap breeze Sets painted leaves a-swirling, And down the stream with sudden gleam Like fairy boats they're whirling; When o'er the land on every hand The purple mists are lying, And flowers lie dead within each bed. Ah, then my heart's a-sighing, — Sleep sweetly now, oh living things, Fly southward, lark and swallow, For fall is here to speed the year And winter soon will follow. 32 HONEYSUCKLE Welcome to you, rambling, fragrant, Wilding beauty, wayside vagrant, Draping emerald robes about you! Earth were barer far without you! Folk content with northern clime Never know you in your prime, — Never find your waxen riches Lavish flung o'er banks and ditches, — Never see the brookside bowers Hung with gold and ivory flowers Where your tangled foliage crushes Dogwood down — deep haunts for thrushes Nesting safe in dark seclusion 'Neath your rioting profusion, — Never feel your sweet perfume Stealing on them in the gloom Of summer evenings from a thicket Shrill with cry of frog and cricket. Here how bounteous you lift Twin-borne goblets with your gift. Honeyed nectar offering Humming birds for banqueting! How you heap the billowed hedges, How you weave through marshy sedges Feathery blanket for a stream Babbling in a sluggish dream — ! 33 Missionary of the wild Spreading freshness undented In a friendly ministration Over blots of desolation — Where deserted cabins tumble, Where old forest monarchs crumble, Soft you spread your living pall Kindly covering their fall. — Honeysuckle, just a weed, Slighted, trampled on, indeed; Yet your loveliness I'll treasure With a tender, vivid pleasure; And as long as I remember I'll find summer in December While the honeysuckle twines 'Round my heart its gypsy vines. 34 LOVE SONG I strolled beside the brooklet where the ripples sing And stopped awhile to listen to their whispering; When, sauntering there, I started up in glad sur- prise — 'Twas just a bunch of bluets, but I saw your eyes! I rambled in the meadow where the grasses wave Their tufted heads in harmony with gesture grave; And while I loitered, pondering their graceful charms, A zephyr trembled past me, but I felt your arms! I wandered in the forest when the sun was low And daylight lingered, fondly seeming loath to go. I heard a wondrous lovesong made my heart re- joice, — I knew a woodthrush sang it, but 1 heard your voice! And everywhere I went I found my fate the same, The very leaves in rustling seemed to breathe your name. The reason for the fancy must, I know, be clear, — The miles are long between us; and I love you, Dear! 35 MAY NIGHT Across the dreaming air the whispered drift of apple bloom, — Sweet silver of girls' voices on the velvet of the night, With boys' low laughter like an old song echoing in the gloom, — And still as questing ghost, a vagrant moth with gleam of white. 36 A MIDSUMMER DAY DREAM A midsummer elf with a twinklesome eye Called gaily to me as a bee bore him by. (The day was in June, and my work was piled high.) "Come out! Oh, come out for a frolic!" cried he. "All the world's making holiday. Come out and see!" (My work was piled high as he beckoned to me.) "The golden-eyed daisies your fortune shall tell; "We'll find four-leaf clovers to work you a spell." (He beckoned to me as he tempted so well.) "And you shall lie soft on a green, grassy bed "Where blossoming trees a cool canopy spread." (He tempted so well; but I shook my grave head.) "And light I will perch on a blackberry spray "And swing as the vine in the breezes shall sway." (I shook my grave head; but my heart whispered, "Yea!") "While a dim-dainty dream song all gently I'll croon "That the fairies have sung at the wane of the moon." (My heart whispered, "Yea"; for the day was in June.) So, heeding my heart, though my work was piled high, I followed the elf with the twinklesome eye. 37 ECHO The echo of a love song drifting in the air Passed a wayside briar. A snowy bloom was there Opening to the sunlight, frail and faintly fair. The echo brushed its petals, and the blossom swelled with pride As quivering words of passion the tender music sighed; And the rosebud flushed to hear them, but the echo — echo — died. 38 BITTERSWEET Candle light and tea time And red coals glowing, And through the boughs of leafless trees A gusty wind blowing. Tea time and firelight Where dream and shadow meet, And on the high white mantel A twist of bittersweet. Firelight and bittersweet And candles glowing; And through the stillness of my heart A gust of memory blowing. 39 PINES I have said goodnight to my pine trees With the moon between their boughs Where high on their nests and dreaming The gray-winged wood doves drowse. I have climbed to my bedroom window And leaned once more to hear The rustle of shifting needles That the darkness brings more near. For the pine trees' whispered music Is more than the songs of men To quiet my troubled spirit And cleanse my soul again. 40 CAT-TAILS A sunny, windswept hill, that cool Swift shadows touch and leave; And on its top a little pool Where braiding cat-tails weave. They weave a shifting web of dream For me who watch beside — All silver with the softened gleam Of glories that have died. And I remember, with a sigh As soft as summer weather, How while we watched them, you and I, They wove our hearts together. 41 VACATION'S END And so it's ended. Shall we stoop to say Goodby in poor convention's threadbare way Of taking leave? Ah, no; but clasp my hand And smile your parting, for I understand; And eyes express what words can never reach. Why mar the moment with a waste of speech? We've walked together, laughed together — well, Perhaps we've loved a little. Who can tell? I know my heart beats sadder now to go Because of you, and I am glad 'tis so; But neither would we linger, although true Within your gaze I read a sorrow, too. It's over; and we leave among the flowers Our friendship woven out of sunny hours — A tribute to the summer; then once more We take the separate paths we trod before Until your face, blurred by each lengthening mile Grows to be just the memory of a smile. 42 FAINTHEART You do not guess my tenderness, And I'll not tell. Oh, no! It's very queer to me, my dear, The way such matters go. If you would dare and not despair, Whene'er you look my way You must surmise, for with my eyes I tell you every day. But man must sue and boldly woo To win a maiden, so My heart I'll hide while you decide, But — why are men so slow? 43 YOUNG LOVE Our talk flies 'round the truth of it Like moths about a flame. We glory in the youth of it But never give it name Lest we should dim the gleam of it, For, like a frightened bird, The magic and the dream of it May vanish at a word. 44 WELCOME The dewy, blue-eyed violets, They smiled at me to-day. They've not been here the whole long year That you have been away. But now that you are coming home, Their fairy faces glow! The dewy-eyed blue violets — I wonder if they know! 45 IF LOVE WERE ALWAYS LAUGHTER If love were always laughter And grief were always tears, With nothing to come after To mark the waiting years, I'd pray a life of love for you Sent down from heaven above for you, And never grief come near to you To spread its shadow, Dear, to you, — If love were always laughter And grief were always tears. But grief brings often laughter, And love, — ah, love brings tears; And both leave ever after Their blessings on the years; So, I, Dearheart, would sue for you A mingling of the two for you, That grief may lend its calm to you And love may send its balm to you, Since grief brings often laughter And love brings often tears. 46 THE CHALLENGE Because your smile is shining Across the glooms of grief, I can be brave, divining Your will to bring relief. For like a lark, dawn-greeting, That soars in song the while, So leaps my courage, meeting The challenge of your smile. 47 GOODBY Do not say that when I go, Bitterly your tears will flow. Do not moan that you will be Desolate for loss of me, For my spirit could not sleep Knowing you remain to weep. Rather promise that in spring You will walk unsorrowing Through the paths our lovetime knew While I yet remained with you; And that you will gladly say, "Here we strolled on such a day "When she let me touch her hair, "Brush it with my lips, — and there "Sat we such an afternoon "Listening to woodbird's tune." Then where valley lilies bloom, Close your eyes. Their dear perfume Freighted with my love, will bring Me to you, remembering. 48 THE HEART OF SONG The hunters sing on the mountain, The reapers sing in the valley, The old men doze by the hearth fire; But oh, the weary day! Of love they sing on the mountain, Of love they sing in the valley, Of love they dream by the hearth fire; But oh, my love's away. 49 SHADOWS I never learned until you taught me, Dear, To find the subtler beauties of the year. I never dreamed until you told me so That there are shadows even on the snow. The sunrise filled my heart with ecstasy, The glory of the sunset blinded me; Till, dazzled by the glitter and the glow, I could not see the shadows on the snow. I did not guess upon that rapturous day That there could come a parting to our way; But when at eventide you turned to go, Ah, then I saw the shadows on the snow! Since then I've learned to love them more and more, The sunrise and the sunset; but before Them all, the dearest treasure that I know, Most precious, are the shadows on the snow. 50 TO MY LOVE I do not know why the world moves slowly When you are not here. I only know that my life lies wholly In your presence, Dear. I do not know why your voice is sweeter Than the breath of Spring. I only know that my heart leaps fleeter To its answering. I do not know, for I cannot measure What you bring to me. I only know it's a priceless treasure For eternity. 5J SYMPATHY Peachblow time! And I would stay To help the world make holiday; But in my heart it is not spring Because I find you sorrowing. Dear, I would mourn the springtime through If only I could comfort you; And I would barter all of May If I could only make you gay. 52 KEEP ME FOR COMFORT Keep me for comfort When the world's gray, When the young sunlight Filters away. When the night darkens, Threatening harms, I shall be watching With open arms. Come when you need me, Early or late, Keep me for comfort, — Meanwhile I wait. 53 THE BRIDE With eager hands I bring them — My crystal girlhood dreams; Like April rain I fling them Before your love's bright beams. Oh, have you power to kindle Their hidden rainbow fire: Or must I watch them dwindle In the flame of your desire? 54 ENCORE If I should die before the morn, Let not love's rose my bier adorn; For how could I at rest e'er be, Remembering, Dear, my loss of thee? But drowsy poppies lay thereon — Sweet symbols of oblivion — That all my raptures dead and past I may forget and sleep at last. 55 WEARY I am so tired, God! A little space To rest from loving or I perish! See — There burns no mark of anguish on my face, But all my soul is torn with agony! I still could soothe me were it not for this — That one who walks beside me must not know Or fail to find within my daily kiss The joy a loyal heart still strives to show. I am so tired! All the songs of spring Beat down like brazen hammers on my brain; Yet for his sake I force my lips to sing Lest they should cry my love-begotten pain. But wood doves calling from a budded tree Bring all the woes of all the world to me. 56 AFTER The garlands I wove you, Love, to wear, Are turned to chains to bind me. Your face that dazzled because so fair Is blurred by the tears that blind me. My heart beat warm all the throbbing night, Secure in your love's enfolding; But when I woke in the dawn's dim light - 'Twas only a dream I was holding. I dreamed, "Love brings me a crown, I know, "Of joy for my heart's adorning." 'Twas a crown indeed, but a crown of woe I wore in the gray of morning. 57 THE CROWNING GIFT He asked of me, his promised wife, "What is the crowning gift of life?" And I, rejoicing that I knew, Exulted, "You!" We learn so much as years unfold! My soul now asks that question old And I reply with eyes grown dim, "My love of him, my love of him!" 58 FAREWELL My arms would close enfold you If I could bind you so; But if I wished to hold you, I had to let you go. The bird with fettered pinion Will pine within the nest; And so in love's dominion — But — birds come home to rest. 59 FIRE FANCY Goodnight, Dearheart. — The fire dies down In dwindling heaps of gold and brown And gray — so still, I scarcely hear The crackling sparks as I bend near. Out through the night a spark of thought And love for you flies, warmly fraught With tenderness. — Say, feel you aught? Or can it be no sign appears To signal you my joys or tears? Have we lost touch across the years? 60 FOREVER One boon I prayed Thee, Lord, to give- One little boon— that Love might live. Hear now, O Lord, my sadder cry And pity me. — Love cannot die! 6l OCTOBER Once when the maples had lit crimson fires, Once when the oaks spread the altar with gold, And the temple of Autumn with evergreen spires Was reared on the hills and the plains as of old, Worshipping, childlike, great Nature, the mother, Letting our hearts teach our spirits the way, Lightly we lingered there, I and one other, Draining the wonder-wine out of the day. Roaming just now in a useless endeavor Only to dream he was there by my side, Met me a maid singing, "Love lives forever." — Heart o' me, heart o 'me! What was it died? 62 THANKSGIVING I cannot thank Thee for the grief That bowed my breaking heart, I cannot praise Thee for the curse That made me one apart. My ■ spirit shudders still to feel The burden that it bears; And sad my soul walks, sorrowing Beneath the pall it wears. But yet I worship at Thy feet, I bless Thee and adore; For Thou hast left the memory Of all that went before. 63 REMEMBERING I would still remember All the ways we went Through that glad September When our souls were blent. I would always treasure Words you used to say — Little words whose measure In their music lay. Once again in dreaming I would see your eyes, Tenderness outstreaming Over all disguise. Dearest dear, your leaving Broke my heart; and yet Even this, my grieving, I would not forget. 64 I'VE WOVEN ME NEW LOVES I've woven me new loves To warm my heart awhile. The old love flashed like shining Truth Flame-fashioned from the web of Youth ; And when its glow enfolded me, My spirit danced for very glee. But I awoke one wintry morn To find the golden garment torn ; And now, alas, forevermore I go more softly than before. My golden gown is gray, But I have learned to smile, For I've woven me new loves To warm my heart awhile. 65 METAMORPHOSIS Love whispered, "I will be your guide "And friend through life, whate'er betide." I, childlike, turned this love to see, And lo, my mother spoke to me 1 I walked through spring-green fields and heard The mating song of many a bird. Love called to me. In glad surprise I saw a youth with burning eyes. Years passed. I went a woman's way, And sorrows came as sorrows may. Then love looked up once more and smiled: It was a child — a little child ! 66 LULLABY The twilight is filled with the flutter of wings Of birds flying homeward on high — The robin on yon elm bough twitters and sings, "Oh, lullaby, Baby, oh, by!" The locust comes out and the katydid sings, "Goodby, sunny daylight, goodby." A moth flutters past, and the message he brings Is, "Lullaby, Baby, oh by!" The sunset glow fades and the daytime is done; And the stars from their home in the sky Twinkle down the same message to my little one, "Oh, lullaby, Baby, oh by!" The child on my bosom is quiet at last, The soft eyelids curtain each eye, And all now is still, for the sandman has passed Saying, "Lullaby, Baby, oh by!" 67 THE LESSON My mother taught me all her lore — And she was very wise; I cherished what she said, and more I fathomed in her eyes — Of patience and of love a store, And brave self-sacrifice. I cherished what she said, and tried To follow carefully Because I hoped with humble pride To be as good as she — As tender and as glorified By strong simplicity. I thought the lesson I'd divined, But very strange it was to find How small a part I'd understood Until I, too, reached motherhood. 68 TO MY DAUGHTER My mother and I dreamed different dreams. Oh, well I know that it was so. — She used to grieve to have me leave The prize she'd toiled for long ago — The woman she had failed to be But looked to find fulfilled in me. Now you and I dream different dreams ! It's hard to see how it can be; For Life gives you, if you but knew, What seems the highest boon to me; And yet you dare so lightly wear The crown I find so dazzling fair! Mother and child! How strange it seems— One verv flesh with alien dreams! 69 MUSIC I made me a song of the joy of my youth, A song brimming over with laughter; And proudly I sang it, and gaily, forsooth, And waited for praise to come after. My mother but said when the singing was done, "Not the smallest brown bird but can sing in the sun." I made me a song of the strength of my years. All hushed was the sound of my singing, For softly I crooned to the tune of the tears That Grief from my heartstrings was wringing. My mother heard proudly the wistful refrain — " 'Tis only brave women press music from pain." 70 THE EXILE I followed where he led me, I followed down the valley Past dogwood all a-blossom And buzzing wild with bees. My lover said, "Down yonder — " As sweet his tone grew, fonder — "Our lowland home lies yonder "In richer scenes than these." But oh, my mountains, My gray Great Smoky Mountains, My sleepy southern mountains Held golden memories ! * He brought me to a mansion Set deep in blooming orchards With gleaming fertile grain fields For many a level mile. The door is wreathed with roses, A garden wall encloses Fair flowers, but its posies Scarce win a single smile, — For oh, my mountains, My purple-pansied mountains, My laurel-laden mountains I'm wanting all the while! 7? And now I have my baby. I bore him in the valley And cushioned him a cradle Where apple blossoms blow. And while I sit here sewing Beneath the petals' snowing, I watch the wee life growing And hot my tears will flow. For oh, my mountains, My cloudy-crested mountains, My soaring, sunswept mountains My child can never know ! 72 WORKADAY The little threads of Workaday Have woven me a veil, Until my glowing love of you Looks strangely gray and pale. The clinging threads of Workaday Have fashioned me a gown That presses on my throbbing heart And slows its beating down. The endless threads of Workaday Spin sandals for my feet, To hold them back from seeking you, That once were sure and fleet. Oh, what swift shears of Circumstance Can cut my spirit free Before the threads of Workaday Have hidden you from me? 73 THE TASKS I used to run with the red-gold sun And sing with the silver stars; My little gray tasks they hushed my song And fastened my door with bars. In crimson clad I danced as mad As a leaf when the fields are brown; My little gray tasks they stilled my feet And riddled my crimson gown. But when hope failed and my spirit quailed At the desolate days in view, 'Twas the little gray tasks that took my hands And guided me safely through. 74 THE CAGE I never loved it all the years I had to stay, And often longed with bitter tears To get away. But now that I am free to go, It's very queer— The place that I have hated so Is almost dear. 75 THE LITTLE LANE OF LOVING All the roads to Sorrow Passed my cottage door — The royal Road of Broken Hearts And many roads more. So broad they were and shining, So travel-worn and plain, I scarcely marked among them A little green lane. For the little Lane of Loving Is a tangled, leafy maze, And many never find it For the wider ways. Down all the roads to Sorrow My questing heart has gone Across the wastes of Loneliness That stretch before the dawn. But when my grief was blackest And demon-wrought my pain, My tired spirit stumbled On a little green lane ! And this I found for comfort — Whatever road you roam, It's the little lane of Loving Leads to Happiness and Home 76 IN THE LONELY YEARS When we were young and high of heart, and knew The first sweet thrill of being comrades, when We snatched life's treasures as our simple due, — I thought I loved you then. And when dark sorrow bade us silent stand And stole the youth that nothing could restore, I felt the comfort of your clasping hand And loved you all the more. But now I wait alone, my spirit hears Beyond the stars your message. At the call Thrills my faint heart, and in my lonely years I love you most of all. 77 CARNIVAL AND OTHER POEMS CARNIVAL "Carnival, carnival, carnival !" Lo, how the spell ensnares us all, — Hark to the luring, laughing call ! Carnival time when the world goes mad, Mad with a joyance wildly glad, Mad with the springtime, dancing mad. Old King Carnival reigns once more, Reigns as he always has before With riot and laughter and fun galore; And crowding the streets, the people all Homage pay to King Carnival. There what marvelous sights you see — Little red devils in prancing glee Flirting with Sisters of Charity. Where else, now, could such scandal be? Pig-tailed Chinamen treading the lanes With cowboys fresh from the western plains, Who hold in check with careless reins Lean ponies with straw in their twisted manes; While courtly ladies in velvet dressed Throw kisses alike to the East and West As if uncertain which pleases best. Then a jingling fool and a poet or two Go waltzing together the long street through. A combination you don't find new? Well, it's all, you know, in the point of view. 81 The wine in the air makes our pulses haste; And there's other wine that won't go to waste, For we drink both kinds with impartial taste. Wine, did I say? The thought's not bad! I know where there's plenty and good to be had. There's a warm, bright room where the tables stand, And the glasses clink, and a misty band Blares smoky ragtime across the blur Of the bustle and laughter and restless stir. This is the way. — Come, don't demur. Look out! There's paper all over the floor; It tangled my feet as I passed the door; And confetti and bright-hued cotton balls Fly thick through the smoke-hung, man-crammed halls In answer to challenging, jesting calls. That woman we passed in the street outside, With the faded face and the eyes that have died, — Did she ever drift with the festive tide And flaunt her youth in her wealth of pride? Away with the hag! What place has she In the fun-flushed ranks of our revelry? Oh, why did we turn aside to see Her haunting face with its poverty? Come, drown the sight in a glass with me! Yes, steal a kiss of the waitress there, With the dancing eyes and the tousled hair, — 82 It's a hundred to one that she'll not care — They're doing it 'round you everywhere, For in love and — carnival — all is fair. Who was it wrote with an instinct wise Of a "barmaid's pink ribbon Paradise"? This poor little waif with the questing eyes Is finding it now, I half surmise; And you are the angel, in slight disguise, Who lifts her up to her tinsel skies. And after? It's only in fun, you say? She's a fool if she takes it another way, For carnival courtships never stay? Ah, well; but there's always the price to pay. But hark! That shuddering sound of gloom That comes like a voice from the open tomb And wails its way through the swarming room! The laughter sinks in a gasping breath As if it were suddenly faced by death! Of course! I'm an ass to feel a shock! King Carnival's dead— it's twelve o'clock And they're bringing his body through the hall To hold the funeral before us all. They'll preach a sermon above him here, Then lay him to rest for another year ; And the wails are mocks as if to mourn 83 As along through our midst the "corpse" is borne. It's only a joke, — why look forlorn? Come, fill your glass and we'll drink him deep, With carefree hearts we'll drink him sleep Till he comes next year the feast to keep. Why, the girl, there! Look! Does she really weep? 84 SISTER OF CHARITY Sister, thou, of charity, Did thy spirit's rarity Earth's poor sweetness cloy? Did angelic, lyrical Echoes like a miracle Purge out human joy? Did thine eyes, adoringly Turned to heaven imploringly Find such wonders there That thine heart, enraptured, Burst its earth bonds, captured By a faith more fair? Or was Life unkind to thee; Did its ways seem blind to thee, Dangerous and slow? Turned thy sun to showering Till thy trouble, towering, Brought thy courage low? Didst thou taste of friendlessness, Feel the bitter endlessness Of unanswered love Till thy soul despairingly, Blindly and uncaringly, Turned its cry above? 85 To thine eyes unfaltering Came that peace unaltering From a heavenly strand; Or the feeble vanity Of our frail humanity Canst thou understand? "Sister," thou, in name alone If 'twas heaven's claim alone Called thy soul from men; But if earth holds part of thee, Truly, in the heart of thee Art thou sister then. 86 ASH WEDNESDAY We scatter ashes in our hearts And strive to do Thy will; With serious thoughts we fill our minds And bid light joys be still. But let us not forget, Dear Lord, In these sad, solemn hours, That Thou who diedst on Calvary Art God who made the flowers. And when glad Easter waves her bloom Beneath spring's laughing skies, From out the ashes of dead sin May perfect love arise. 87 IN LENT The light-o'-love young hours That frolicked through the day In diadems of flowers — How dear they were and gayl Now, still as gray-cowled brothers The sad hours shuffling pass, Each one like all the others, Droning a mumbled mass. 88 FROM THE SHADOW O you with happier love-lives, Have pity on our night Who grope with blinded fingers That never feel the light, And stagger helpless onward In hopeless hope of sight! You cannot know the shadows That crouch about our way, — You, with the sun of loving To warm your lifelong day. You cannot guess the spectres That in the darkness stray. Our love has turned to ashes But still we stumble on And clutch with anguished fingers At what we know is gone. Oh, sharp the bitter briars Our feet have trod upon! O you with happier love-lives, Withhold from us your scorn Because our laugh rings hollow, Because our souls are worn. We laugh to spite the ghost-shapes Of frightened conscience born. 89 You cannot know the shadows We evermore must meet — The ghost of murdered honor, The souls of all things sweet, The shuddering souls of sorrows That dog our dragging feet ! Our love has turned to ashes, But still we crave the light; And we would leave our sinning If only, oh! we might! O you with happier love-lives, Have pity on our night ! 90 THE YOUNG TEACHER So young she stands and slenderly, So overyoung for toiling — A smudge of chalk dust on her cheek, Its powder on her hair. She watches them so tenderly, The children at their moiling Day in, day out, all through the week— So weary, but so fair. Her voice grows stern to chasten them That should be light with laughter, And in her eyes there seems to stir A far-off, wistful glow; But swift she smiles to hasten them Who linger, yearning after The budding motherhood in her They love but cannot know. 91 THE OLD TEACHER Other women's children have drained her of her youth, Left her old and spent — and all alone, Trampled on her beauty in their daily search for truth, With oh, so little loving to atone! Other women's children have fed them from her brain, Learned from her their code of wrong and right, With scarce a word of gratitude to ease her spirit's strain ; And she is weary waiting for the night. Other women's children have nagged away her heart, Left an empty aching in its place — A longing for her motherhood that never had a start; But she has been a mother to the race! 92 YE BLESSED blessed, you whose dead lie still In quiet rows asleep ! They never haunt your sorrowing Or come to watch you weep. My dead, they wander up and down Like living folk, on earth; They greet me in the marketplace, They sit beside my hearth. 1 dare not sob and stain my eyes For fear that they might see, Because I know my pain would grieve Their dead hearts bitterly. But I must smile and go my way With brave, uplifted head; For those I mourn still walk with me, 'Tis but their loves are dead. They greet me in the marketplace Or sit my hearth beside; And no one watching us, but me, Could dream that they had died. I see their spirits change and watch Their hearts that turn to stone, — Those hearts that but a breath ago Beat warm against my own. 93 But bitterest of all the pangs, And bitter more and more! This sight kills even the memory Of what they were before. So blessed, you whose dead lie still In quiet graves apart, For you can keep them as they were, Remembered in your heart! 94 HIS LOVING CUP He won you with the keen, young-bodied joy Of budding manhood. In the hot-fought race He gloried at the cruel wracking pace That challenged all his strength. Without alloy The passion of his striving. — Glowing boy! Then, with the victor-flush still on his face, He came, half shy, yet more than proud to place Within my hands his valor-boughten toy. Now flower-filled you stand before me here And stir my solitude with dreams of him. So beautiful he was! It seems, in truth, Your clear-lined beauty brings him very near; And in the blossoms nodding from your brim I find the treasure of his fragrant youth. 95 HALF-FORGOTTEN You that have lingered in twilight lands — Lands where the listening silence sings — Have you felt their touch on your brow and hands, The touch of the half-forgotten things? Musing alone till the dim day grew Misty with vague rememberings, Have you seen the wavering, wistful crew — The ghosts of the half-forgotten things? Loves long dead and friendships cold — Hark to the whispering of their wings, Wafting you back, as the day grows old, Dreams of the half- forgotten things ! 96 PENNY SONGS If I could coin my heart's blood To globes of golden song And sell them for a penny The public streets along, Say, would you buy a ballad To help me in my need? Or would you turn your face away Who made my heart to bleed? 97 SONG Oh, the golden dreams I dreamed in days gone by! Oh, it hardly seems That dreamer could be I ! Dead, like shining beads, My golden dreams are strung On a string of silver songs I sang when I was young. 9«