PS 3527 .E925 P6 1916 Copy 1 te^ l^db^'j "^^ Book_r ir Copyiiglit]^^- COPyRlGHT DEPOSnV Other books by GRACE CLARKE NEWTON A BOOK OF RHYMES. THE HUNTING ALPHABET. Illustrated in color. l/iii/iepress'] A SMALL GIRL'S STORIES. [ In preparation ] POEMS IN PASSING. A Second Gleaning. \_Tn preparation'] t POEMS IN PASSING BY GRACE CLARKE NEWTON A V E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK CITY I9I6 Copyright, I9I6, by E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY I'* m 26 1916 OC1,A427049 # In bringing together here in print these poems of Grace Clarke cA(ewton it seems impossible not to say something of the personality for which they serve as a partial and almost casual expression, JJt ten years of age she had written four good- sized copy-books of original stories in a childish hand^ cramped and labored^ but with infinite pains, /It thirteen years her first collection of poetry was written^ and many of the verses were printed in the periodicals of this and other cities at that time, cJ\ot until years afterwards were they discovered to have been written by a mere child, so mature and full of style were they. Some of the poems in this volume had been approved and corrected by the Jluthor for pub- lication^ others were still unfinished', but many have been brought to light from obscure places, such as private letters, fly-leaves of books, the backs of pictures, old diaries, and other remote sources which might easily have eluded discovery. Moreover, the poems here given comprise less than half the material at hand^ but much of the rest is of a nature so intimately personal that it must remain locked forever in the hearts of those to whom it was written. # LIST OF POEMS POEMS IN PASSING PAGE The Infinite Message 3 Juana's Song 4 The Elect of Love 5 Maternity 6 The Shepherd 7 Wisdom 8 The Lighting of Stars 9 Love Among the Roses II An April Song 12 Through the Mist 13 The Little Brook 14 Aladdin 15 In a New England Garden 16 The Moon-Beam and the Rose 18 The Isle of Gardens 19 As by Fire 21 A Rose of Yester-eve 22 In the Mission Garden 23 As One Made Blind 24 Upon Her Balcony 25 The Sailor Doll and the Big Toy Ship 26 Ungrateful Love 28 Pour le Jour de Naissance dc Mon Frcre 29 The King's Son 30 Love the Tyrant 32 ix LIST OF POEMS PAGE Who Burns the Britigc 33 The Rose Witch 34 The Secret of Love 36 A Toast 37 The Old Piano 38 Lost 40 The Longest Day of the Year 41 Where the Lilies Blow 42 The Tribute 43 Dost Thou Love Me ? . 46 The Dread White Mist 47 An Afterglow 48 The Princess 49 Three Songs for the Samisen I This Hour is Thine 50 II The Bridegroom 50 III The Lonely Prince 51 The Tryst 52 The Bold Lover 53 Exile 54 When Roseate Gleams 55 The Way to Do It 56 In a Garden 58 The Day's Delight 59 Spring in Winter 60 In Profile 61 The Dragon-slayer 62 Lo ! In this Garden 63 Milestones 64 Grey Mist Wreaths 66 X LIST OF POEMS PAGE A Venetian Rose 67 To My Valentine 68 To a Friend 70 The Silver Wind 71 An Ingle Song 72 The Lover's Prayer 73 From a Dune 74 Suggestion 75 The Feasting of Fi 76 The Masque of Love 11 One Night in Tangier I Serenade in the Spanish Quarter .... 84 II On the House-top 85 III Riffian Love Song 86 IV Song of the Camel-drivers 87 V From a House-top 88 VI Azizah 89 VII Song of the Kasbah 90 VIII By the Sea-wall 91 IX The Blind Beggar 92 X The Thoughts of Zahra 93 XI Aftermath 94 OCCASIONAL STANZAS WRITTEN IN BOOKS, ON THE REVERSE OF PICTURES, ETC. A Line to Live By 99 After the Quarrel 100 In a Letter lOI Influence 102 xi LIST OF POEMS PAGE On a Small Ivory Buddha 103 Do Two Who Dream 104 For a Sun-dial Sculptured by Enid Yandell .... 105 Alice in Wonderland 106 William Ernest Henley 107 I Read a Little Book 108 On a Picture 109 In Childhood's Day 1 10 To Maurice Hewlett Ill Each Day is a Song 112 By the Sea-shore 113 L'Envoi 114 IN LIGHTER VEIN The Glow-worm and the Butterfly 117 Lines Written in a Parlor Car 118 My Pal 120 A Schevcningen Idyl 121 Miss Poky is on Her Allowance 124 My Sampler 125 Isabel 126 The Rosebud with a Past 128 The Song of the Hunter 130 Comparisons 131 Pauline 132 Any Husband to Any Wife 134 The Guest-book 1 36 The Onion-vender 138 Reprisals 141 Mabel Snow 142 xii LIST OF POEMS 9 WHO ARE YOU? PAGE Foreword 147 The Cotillion Leader 148 Parson Owl's Test Questions 149 The Grateful Elephant 150 The Aquarium 152 The Hypnotic Turkey 153 The Hounded Porcupine 154 The Giddy Goat 156 Thoughtful Tutti Frutti 157 The Life of the Party 158 The Walking Delegate 159 The Flippant Fox and the Sanctimonious Coon . . I60 The Large Frog Tells How He Achieved Notoriety . I6l The Puppies' School 162 The High-flying Spider 1 63 The Philosophy of the Pasture 165 (Ex ^ibjris ^ little ix^zttex titan mg bauks, ^g little l^ou»e wag be; l&ut JwJbat is iteajrex tltatt titcttt batl^ T Cite ^txi»e tltat gaiie it me. Grace Clarke Newton's Book-plate Shewing the entrance of her house at Easthampton, L. I. POEMS IN PASSING THE INFINITE MESSAGE LIE still and look upon the sea! J Press down the sed^e-^rass, spray-empearled, And let thy very heart go free Into that shining, glimmering world! Whether it be at dawn to wake, When rose and gold are on the sea; Or 'neath the stars to hear waves break, Lose not the wonder meant for thee! Would'st gain in power to love and cheer? Resistless as God's tide would'st be? Lie close and listen. Thou shalt hear The infinite message of the sea! JUANA'S SONG DOST thou despair, when for thy comforting The white stars burn in Heaven's own azure deep? When nightingales in yonder garden fling Their song full-throated to the rose asleep? Why fall thy tears when through the mist is borne (Oh ! Summer-scented mist more sweet than wine!) The laughter of red poppies in the corn? — Red-lipped, they laugh at such despair as thine! THE ELHCT OF LOVE LOVE came to me, and lo! Love ^ave to me J With shining eyes and ^lowin^ win^s outspread Largess of frankincense and myrrh and pearls, And roses, yea, in garlands white and red. But when I found each fair white pearl a tear That in Love's name and for Love's sake was shed, I shuddered at the ^ifts of Love; and, Dear, My heart foresaw Love's doom and prayed for Death instead. And now the last ^reat gift of Love is mine. And with it wisdom. Fears and doubt have fled. This frankincense and myrrh doth Love distill Only when hearts for Love's sweet sake have bled. And only gives he unto us, his own. The roses white and — ah ! — the roses red When we are worthy. Sacrifice alone Can keep the holy blossoms all unwithered. MATERNITY I HEAR a frail voice calling from the deep Of my own bein^ — calling me from sleep. Oh, life! Oh, new life, trembling on my breast! Oh, child of dreams, by the Unknown caressed! In my soul's ecstasy thy soul aglow; Strong to bear grief, if sorrow thou must know; And from my joys thy chaliced cup to fill. Brimmed with the nectar that the Gods distill ! For those who are heaven-born, like thee, the grace, The strength, the beauty and the marks of race! May these good gifts be thine; and — Oh, my son! — Enduring power, that thy proud course when run Fulfil the breathless promise of these days. Lo! this I pray as every woman prays Who hears the frail voice calling from the deep. Who hears the new life calling her from sleep. THE SHEPHERD SHEPHERD of the wandering lambs, How they need thy care! Over barren plain and rock Wearily they fare. Where the pleasant pastures are, There are pitfalls deep. Where the tall thorn hedges grow, Shepherd, seek thy sheep ! Shepherd, bid us seek for those Weak with fear and cold. Free them, of thy boundless love; Lead them to thy fold! Shepherd of the wandering lambs. Make us say aright All that thou would'st say if thou Cam'st on earth to-night. WISDOM TO sit with folded hands and eyes serene Through those long days and nights that lie between The vision of power and that ripe hour Which bids the spirit grasp what it has seen. THE LIGHTING OF STARS BELOVED! What may I hold fast? Thine heart? Ah ! no — some power above me May whisper, **He is not the last Nor yet the worthiest to love thee!" Though I behold the Rose of Flame Here at thy feet — adore it, kneeling — It would but be my deeper shame Were life not ^reat for such revealing. Time leads us down the Shadowed Way And ^ives us but a moment fleeting When one may li^ht a star — to say, '* Here once a human heart was beating." The torch 1 dear Love — in Art's great sky To light a star — by song or story I should not dare — save thou stand by — For just a woman's meed of glory! So Petrarch thought — so Dante knew. And all who carve or paint. Then, dreaming, I shall send forth my dream, unto The furthest end of all Life's seeming. 9 Beloved! Call it by thy name, This tiny star I leave a-burning; For I have seen the Rose of flame — And thine the power, and mine the yearning! 10 LOVE AMONG THE ROSES WHEN the kiss of dawn unsheathes Petals of the rose, Incense from her heart who breathes Her enchantment knows ! When the dusky twilight creeps O'er the garden close, Love amon^ the Roses sleeps. — Bid me so repose! II AN APRIL SONG WHEN the tulip buds unclose, Sheathed in pearl and tipped with rose, Thou shalt lift thy face to me Underneath the tulip tree. When the star-beams glide and gleam O'er the garden's April dream, Life shall learn what Love may be Underneath the tulip tree. Budding fair each bough to-night! Shine, oh stars ! our fears take flight. Thine the spell that set them free Underneath the tulip tree. Smile as thou art smiling. Sweet! So the Spring with footsteps fleet Hasteneth, dear Heart, to thee Underneath the tulip tree. 12 THROUGH THE MIST 'Duet for baritone and Mezzo He sings: ' I 'RUST thou, that Love and Love's X delight Are in the world, the world, for thee! Tho' thou art held in thrall to-night. Dear Heart, thou shalt be free. She sings: Love shines upon a sea of pain And lo! the mists, the mists, arise! Look thou on me, and they shall wane To blue of Paradise ! He sings: Thou, in the world of God's great wind — She sings: Close sheltered, sheltered on thy breast! They sing All we have sought for, we shall find! together: — Yea, Life and Love are blest! 13 THE LITTLE BROOK HE hoped to be a roaring, rushing river When first his babbling voice began to sound: He owned this modest aim without a quiver When just a tiny rill on mossy ground. But, wandering down the hill, through meadows glowing, One day he saw afar the shining sea: Ah ! then he knew, and felt the joy of knowing, From first to last a little brook was he! H ALADDIN SLAVE to Love's Lamp — his lady's gentle hands Clasped in his own, and that incarnate rose, Her mouth, upon his brow, rob memory. No legacy of Lesser Love withstands The soft touch of Her hands. Like silken bands They draw him, ever closer. Ah, who knows Why it was not thus always! Youth demands Such epic joys and lives such sorry prose. The little acrid flames that li^ht and burn Within our untamed hearts, the vain desires, Vain ^lory of youn^ eyes that ever yearn To see perfection — 'tis from these we learn. And then at last, when fade the lesser fires. To thee, true Lamp that faileth not, we turn. 15 IN A NEW ENGLAND GARDEN FROM the heart of Summer's bloom And its rose-tipped twilight gloom, Drifting toward the sea there floats An impalpable perfume. Just to breathe it deep and slow Is that incense lost to know Which was offered to great Pan In Arcadia, long ago. *Tis to see his visage rise Clear against the purple skies — Pointed ear and horned brow. Cruel mouth and smiling eyes. Much ^twould shock my hostess prim, Whose box-bordered garden dim 'Neath the crescent August moon Sends this incense up to him, If she guessed that pagan gleams Shone between the moon's white beams. Fed upon the scents that rise O'er her garden and my dreams; 16 That a marble temple fair (When I close my eyes it 's there !) Waits the worshipping of Pan, Who will answer all my prayer! 17 THE MOON-BEAM AND THE ROSE A WHITE rose raised her stately head When all the world with roses bloomed. Amid the roses pink and red Her velvet petals incense shed — A chalice Love-illumed. For Love in June had heard her si^h, In pallid beauty set apart. She trembled when she felt him ni^h ; And in a moon-beam from the sky He crept into her heart. How far above her sisters fair She swings her chalice to and fro! The white rose, and the moon-beam rare! — Were I a moon-beam should I dare To enter your heart so? 18 THE ISLE OF GARDENS WE left the Land of Custom, And sailed on Fancy's sea Into an Isle of Gardens, Known but to you and me. Passing the solemn hed^e-rows, All garlanded with bloom, We drank deep breaths, enraptured, Of subtly sweet perfume. Lo! what a ni^ht of starlight We spent on that fair isle; Cradled upon pine-branches, Forgetful for a while Of the Land that we had fled from. The Land of Every Day I Oh ! back to those wondrous gardens. Would that we knew the way! 19 THE LANTERNS EASTHAMPTON.L.I. / 20 AS BY FIRE LO ! doth awakening seem i (From some fair dream — ) To make of Life a thing more grey and hard? Nay! when thy heart is torn By that sharp thorn That Love hath placed his wonder-rose to guard, Rise thou to heights, and feel Through pain's ordeal Alone are we found worthy of reward. 21 A ROSE OF YESTER-EVE I SHE who is the Queen of Flowers, The crimson-petalled rose, Gives the fairest of her dowers When her leaves unclose. Oh, the nightingale who woos her. For a winged brief delight. As an hour^s caprice he views her, In the starlit night. Refrain: The rose fades on the bough, Dear Heart, As fade the dreams we weave. Thou dost not love me now. Dear Heart, A rose of yester-eve. II When the stars pale at day's dawning, Flies the bird to join his mate. Lo, the anguish of Love's scorning, 'Tis a rose's fate. Shall my life end as a flower's. Now that winged joy hath flown ? Loved by thee for some glad hours. Fading then alone ? Refrain: The rose fades, etc. 22 IN THE MISSION GARDEN (Written in the Mission Garden at Santa Barbara, California) HERE lie the brown-frocked brothers scattered, Hundreds and thousands of our Indian dead! Some outlet for their savage strength God found: They built our mission, sleep in holy ground. Wild simple hearts, by faith and works made pure That yonder belfry mi^ht this day endure! ** How great your debt T' I murmured. — Came reply, '* Long cancelled, for in holy ground they lie!" 23 AS ONE MADE BLIND WHEN Thou, Heart of my Heart, dost call to me (Albeit with silent lips from deeps of pain) The garden's rose — a moment's all in all to me — Swingeth her petalled censer in vain. The joy of mine that made our joy complete Fadeth to ashes for thy sorrow, Sweet! What though I lie and gaze on starlit sea, Or walk beneath tall pines! Love, where thou art In stony city ways I fain would be. There should I find ease for my aching heart! Mine eyes, until thou painless rest, Are blind, though Nature show her loveliest. 24 UPON HER BALCONY I CLIMB the quaint old stairs that wind Up to that realm where I would be, Where honeysuckle vines are twined — Upon her balcony. The moon is hi^h — my thoughts inclined To rise as hi^h above the sea; An inspiration comes to mind Upon her balcony. And some of it, that lon^ has lain Within the heart, the night sets free To sing itself, a soft refrain, — **Upon Her Balcony.'' And as I play — in gladsome vein That meets a winding minor key — Is born that sweet and haunting strain, ''Upon Her Balcony"! 25 THE SAILOR DOLL AND THE BIG TOY SHIP T)uet: Reggie and Elsa I She: T NAMED a little sailor doll for You, JL When I was eight or nine! He: Was that a sign you loved me true? She: I thought it was a sign I His curls were yellow and his eyes were blue. He: T'hey sound a bit like mine! She: I thought the sailor doll resembled You, When I was eight or nine! ^* Dimple-Chin, your dolly Is a sign of folly! '* All the grown-ups told me, **Of sailor boys beware!" He: Wonder if you kissed him! Could n't you resist him? Would you be as good to me — if I should ever dare? II He: I named for you. Sweetheart, my big toy boat. The wonder of the fleet! 26 She: Of course the fastest, fairest ship afloat: No others dared compete! He: When Re^^ie and his **Elsa" (Pray you, note How well that sounds, my Sweet!) Surpassed in glory every other boat Within the nursery fleet! '^ Curly-Pate — please lend her For the 'Cup-Defender'!'' All the grown-ups teased me, but I proudly said them **Nay." She: Was she what you thought her. Queen on land and water? Are you glad you named your boat and I my doll that way? 27 UNGRATEFUL LOVE LOVE was cold and love was weary, J What a rueful face he wore! But I ^ave him greeting cheery, And I said, ** Rest here, my dearie,** Opening wide the door. Soft I stroked each ruffled feather, Kissed his tear-drops all away: Love forgot the stormy weather; When we *d been a while together He began to play. Played me all my dreams unspoken. With my heartstrings as his lute. — Then he fled; and left as token All my dreams and longings broken, All the music mute! 28 POUR LE JOUR DE NAISSANCE DE MON FR6rE (An original and modernized Punch and Judy show was written, with songs and libretto, and staged, by G. C. N.; and acted at "The Lanterns" before an invited audience of friends.) DO you remember, Brother mine, One birthday when I ^ave a *'show" (With Chappell's aid), and wrote the play For puppets — never let you know? And when the curtain rose that ni^ht What joy was mine, to make a hit With the three people in the house For whose applause I cared one bit! **Le Petit Theatre de Renard Rouge" — That was the name I called it. Dear ; And, all the while, 'twas for your laugh We played — the source of all our cheer! Ah ! then, as now, you, dearest Tom, Will never find the gift too small; But in the love I send it with I know your heart finds mine — that 's all 29 THE KING'S SON THE slave who in the chill white dawn Met death upon yon gallows-tree With a soldier's step and a brave man's scorn For the King and the King's decree! His mother's shame when he was born, (No willing Royal Mistress, she !) Cradled in agony, forlorn Of all but hate — black hate for me I A spirit high was his — a brain That teemed with keen creative fire: (And hers was so — ere it was slain For the King's delight — the King's desire!) I heard her sobbing : she would fain Lie swathed in rags on her funeral pyre, Rather than on my heart have lain In her perfumed and jewelled attire! This captive with the sun-kissed hair {ZJDe waged our wars on northern lands !) And the rose-red mouth — was a beauty rare Who loathed the King and his commands! And so I answered not her prayer! The web of Life has poisoned strands; And she has taught me her despair! I wonder if she understands? 30 If still she hates, who taught her son To hate so well oefore she died? I saw the cursed deed be^un Ere she went to Hell; and a kingly pride Waxed in the eyes and heart of One Who seemed forever at my side. No more, now this morn's work is done, Shall I be so defied! I grew to fear the slender youth Who filled my cup and bent the knee. It seemed that he must know the truth 1 A King he looked and a King would be! He showed no sign of joy or ruth, But only lived in the hope that he Should taste his Freedom. Now, forsooth, I at the last have set him free! There he swings! and here in state I sit — quite safe, dear Gods, at last! He was my curse : it was his Fate That the King should smite as a mighty blast I Quite safe, dear Gods, at last ! — but wait, The pale woman who just passed! /ind who is that comes toward me fast? My Son! Oh Gods! Too late! too late! 31 LOVE THE TYRANT Madrigal I 10VE the tyrant works his will, J Hath his way, Dear Heart, in me. Dost thou fear his service still, Seeing how all joyously At his throne men bend the knee. Live and laugh and know no ill? Love the tyrant works his will, Hath his way, Dear Heart, in me! II Thou alone art sad and chill. Dreading Love's captivity. Bid the tyrant work his will In thy sad heart, and thou shalt be Free as only gods are free. Live and laugh and know no ill! Love the tyrant works his will. Hath his way. Dear Heart, in me! 32 WHO BURNS THE BRIDGE (Lines on a Roman bridge now in use and partly restored by the Moors in Morocco, on the way to Tctuan. Written for the book-plate of R. N., Jr.) WHO burns the bridge whereon he crossed To kneel at Wisdom's altar, Shall reach her shrine, tho' tempest-tossed. • — Who burns it not may falter. 33 THE ROSE WITCH THE fire burns brightly; *Tis leaping lightly, This flame so rare! Within Youth's glances It gleams and dances, Where? Love— Where? Oh ! give it greeting, For it is fleeting As it is fair! Red roses wreathing Their beauty, breathing On lip and brow! To taste their sweetness In its completeness. How ? Love — How ? Between our kisses Youth's guerdon misses No treasure now. But days are nearing We should be fearing: When roses lie All pale and broken 34 — Of Li^e a token. Why} Love— Why} The fires of yearning Alone are burning When roses die! 35 THE SECRET OF LOVE LIVED one who, blinded for a day, J Dreamed that an idol made of clay- Was Love. — Take heed! For when her Da^on prostrate lay Before his altar, her dismay Was great indeed! Beware, who search for Cupid's shrine. This tragic lot! His secret sign Is known to few. Search not for Love 'neath palm or pine. — If you are his, the God divine Is seeking you! 36 A TOAST {/Apropos of Nothing) TO those in Arcady who heard The Shepherd's warning note, Monotonous, insistent, on The winds of Twilight float — Who pale beneath the paint and patch, The silks and laces fine, Knowing their Golden Age must end — I pledge this cup of mine! 37 THE OLD PIANO I A CHRISTMAS EVE— You '11 please contrive To think of drawing-rooms we know, Where furnishings of '65 Do battle with the **Art Nouveau." How easy to depict the scene, — The chintz with buds and roses gay, Which covers over red moreen. And two pianos — strange to say! II The first, an old and quavering thing, Square-cased, whose yellowed keys, once white. Evoke strange sounds, at which we 'd fling Our gibes, save for the past delight: The other, come to take its place This Christmas, is a ^* Baby-Grand." See how they stand there, face to face. Where only one next night will stand. Ill Oh ! marvel not at creak or groan From him who quite unstrung may be. Before the young usurper's tone Has sweetened to maturity. 38 Ah yes! the coming Christma.s morn Shall see you carted from our si^ht. Again I '11 press your pedals worn, Caress your jangling keys to-night. IV Poor cracked old voice, your protest fling At Time for such a sorry fate. ''The King is dead, long live the King!" At least you lie to-night in state; And your successor shall intone A requiem when you breathe your last, For though the future is his own. Shall we forget your honored past? 39 u LOST She — mischievously: OST ! a friend ! a comrade ^ay, Never slow, or over-bold Till he asked the question old That he asked of me to-day! He — masterfully : Sweet, were it not better you should say Lost! a slave who found me cold Till he asked the question old That he asked of me to-day? She — capitulating: If a large reward 's the way To return my loss untold, I will make the promise old To love, to honor and obey. 40 THE LONGEST DAY OF THE YEAR JUNE trailed her garlands by the sea, Their petals flecked the brine When first your hand met mine: And now, whatever the seasons be, The thought of you, the sight of you. Wakes June within my heart anew. 41 WHERE THE LILIES BLOW (Fragment of an unfinished poem written in a beautiful Japanese garden) SEE, yon amber-tinted priest attends Gravely while a musmee, scarlet lips Trembling, all her little sins defends "^ Through her finger-tips. So she watches for the smile benign Which, tho' all the world denies, compelled Ever from the heart of Love divine. Never yet withheld. Come, my musmee, (so to me you seem !) While the lilies wave their branches white, Share the healing sweetness of the dream; And bid Love to-night Gather you so gently — tired from play — To his heart; and, when the lilies blow. Drive your childish follies far away! — Shall it not be so? 42 # THE TRIBUTE (Written one night in Havana, in March, 1915/ while watching from the street the wealth and fashion of the city entering the theatre for the first performance of Pavlowa. Printed in "La Lucha " of March 15, and afterwards in "The Sun," New York. ) T"^ I ME, now; the place, Havana, * The Plaza jewelled with li^ht; And in El Teatro Payret A ^reat, a gala night. The Queen of Russian dancers, The swan of all the world. Sees our beau monde at brightest, Bediamonded, empearled. The dark-eyed, lovely ladies, Their caballeros grave. Alight from gleaming motors, Ascend the shining wave, Into El Teatro Payret; While on the street there stands A silent, slender flower-girl With roses in her hands. Quite silently and shyly She offers them for sale. And as the great throngs enter Her tiny face grows pale: 43 The eyes of all pass by her; Their jewels and flowers are rare. They have no time to linger, But mount the shining stair. Now all the street is silent, And worshippers of ^race Incarnate in The Dancer Are fathered in their place. While in a doorway hidden Beside the theatre ^ates, The rose-^irl with her roses For thrones outpouring waits. Her head sinks low: she rests it Upon the tray of flowers, And sleeps serenely, waiting There through those weary hours; Nor wakes when, loud acclaiming The wonders they have seen, The great throng passes outward — '"Pavlowa!'' ''Goddess!'' ''Queen!'' It is long after midnight. When through the little door Comes one who, stooping swiftly, Sees what none saw before: Smiles, places in the basket A gold piece, big and bright: 44 Wakens the sleeper gently And ^oes into the ni^ht. She knows — as Queens all know it Who rei^n by power of race^ By dancing or enchanting — What Beauty means, and Grace! That just to bring a flower Into the world grown old Deserves its grateful tribute Of Love, and Praise, and Gold! 45 DOST THOU LOVE ME? DOST thou love me, Rose, of thy perfume withholding. Thy pale petals unfolding, All too distant above me (Dear as thou art) For my nearer possessing? Lifers sharpest anguish, a blessing. Thou couldst bestow with thy heart: And it would be. If thou love me. Crowning my life — tho' with thorns! II Dost thou love me, Rose, in the west wind a-quiver? Lend thy ^race, and deliver One from bondage — Oh, prove me! Shall it be so — Shall I take thee and wear thee? Tenderly, rev'rently bear thee, Chalice of wonder and woe? Bid me be free If thou love me! Crown thou my life with thine own! 46 THE DREAD WHITE MIST T f HE dread white mist creeps in from sea Wearing a velvet pall, empearled With those great jewels of the world The bitter tears of agony. 47 AN AFTERGLOW TUST thinking about Christmas Brings the thrill of it to-night. We Ve tooting our tin horns again Round the holly berries bright, And woolly lambs that baa when hugged As if they were alive (Such as I found beside my crib When I was four or five), With candy creams of red and white. And a top that plays a tune. And oh ! the joy of knowing that St. Nick beneath the moon Is driving his team of reindeer So that one small girl like me May find such heaps of presents Upon her Christmas tree! 48 THE PRINCESS THE princess wears a rose-red silken sleeve That reaches almost to her finger-tips. To-day I bent and touched those with my lips, And, seeing the sweet lady did not grieve, I slipped the jealous fabric from her wrist. Which slender lily then I gently kissed. Ah, you who will to any false coquette Pay compliments, extravagant and vain As is the dame herself, will never gain Such happiness as lingers with me yet. For though she is a star above my head, **A royal seal," the princess whispered. 49 THREE SONGS FOR THE SAMISEN THIS HOUR IS THINE THIS hour is thine: above all hours, All joys, holy, serene, remote: Remembered as the chaliced flowers Upon a lotus pool afloat. This hour is thine and mine. Ah ! see The moon on Fuji pale and wane. And know this one hour shared by thee Requites eternities of pain 1 ii THE BRIDEGROOM WHO on his honored errand rides To where O'tani fair Beneath her father's roof-tree bides, Rich ^ifts to her must bear. [Oh ! little dear one, far away — What ^ave I you, made dumb By your despair, that night in May Beneath the flowering plum? 50 One blossom from the bou^h bent low That hid our tnyst from view! Ah 1 when in Spring all blossoms blow, Their fragrance is of you.] Though he who weds O'tani brings Rich silks and ivory, In his cold heart a Geisha sings, '* What gave you, Love, to me?" in THE LONELY PRINCE IN the palace gardens nod and gleam Lily branches, petalled rose and white; Golden-rayed the starlight of our dream; Fragrant is thy sighing, oh. Delight! In the palace gardens, see, are lit Lanterns nobly wrought in bronze and stone. All about them winged night-moths flit — So my thoughts return to thee, my own ! 51 THE TRYST (TO MY VALENTINE— R. N,, Jr.) WHEN the Sun dips down To the world's bright rim, Listen, Eyes of Brown, Summer 's there for him! And it 's there for You When your eyeUds close. — Skies of turquoise blue And the budding rose. On the other side Of just one small world Will you choose to ride. If the sails are furled? There is many a way Out of snow and mire. Close your eyes and say, ^^To My Heart's Desire!" Canter far and free^ Gallop fast and fleet* ^ch(eath the dreamland tree ZVe shall meetf my Sweet! 52 THE BOLD LOVER YON pallid little stars look down at us; The incense-breathing ni^ht doth frown at us Attuned were we A moment past to all her loveliness. That one swift touch of lips, Love's first caress, Should an^er thee! A poor, strange way to prove my love, dost say? Thou tellest me naught new, — a better way I, too, divine. Nature herself is leagued with me — no less! I crave her pardon. Sweetheart, nor confess To fault of mine. Lo! When I take thee in my arms, like this, And press upon thy lips another kiss, Thou shalt aver The fault was thine, that, being in thy power Such joy to give and take, for one short hour Thou didst demur! 53 EXILE THERE is one penalty for sin, One bitter fate I dare not face: That I should ever enter in The Land of Commonplace. Yea, any other way I choose! Better to suffer all Life's woes Rather than that bright Eden lose Where blooms Love's perfect rose! Better to die than dream away The youth that has been given me! To love, to suffer — so to pay The price of being free! 54 WHEN ROSEATE GLEAMS WHEN roseate fleams of dawning ^ig^t Upon thine eyelids fall, Awake! rejoicing, Heart o' Mine! As one whom Love doth call. Thus my Love-Messages are sent: Watch, thou shalt have them all! 55 THE WAY TO DO IT THE tiny tots about one^s chair Who come at bedtime, sit and stare: You must be well equipped with wit To make them smile a little bit. At feasts, responding to a toast, I 'm quoted ready with a host Of anecdotes and merry jokes. Yet can't amuse these little folks. I 've tried with Irish dialect Their mirth to stir: note the effect — The solemn babies rise to go; They have no tact, and vote me *'slow.'' Their interest I must obtain ; And so I sit and rack my brain, Laughing uproariously the while. Hoping to win a baby smile. I have it! ** Children, once-a-time. Where parrots screech and monkeys climb, I saw a lion and a bear! " Lo! What happens — wonder rare — Each child is bubbling o'er with glee! What is the witchery? They see 56 The wonders of the Ark unfold, And though my story 's baldly told, I am the hero of the hour. I thoroughly enjoy my power. The golden heads a-circle shine About my knee: success is mine! I 've roused their interest at last, And always I can hold it fast. Repeating, ** Children, once-a-time," Then add the beasts of every clime. But oh ! you ^rown-up baby dear. Where is the charm to draw you near? I 've said, ** I love you,'' many a time. Perhaps the moral of this rhyme — **I 'm bound to have my own, some way" — Will win even your hard heart, some day! 57 IN A GARDEN WHEN all about you breathes and blows The incense of the mignonette; When you and I, dear heart, are met 'Neath stars within a garden close. Refrain: The little God of Love (Who knows What hour is his — is his and mine!) Will teach me straightway to divine The way to win you, pretty rose I How to hold you, how to fold you To my heart, till all is told you ! How to win my gentle rose ! When June, her wreath of leaves agleam With silver from the crescent moon, Bids every wind to sigh in tune The hour will come of which I dream. Refrain: The little God of Love (Who knows What joy the stars — the stars forecast !) Shall whisper, ** Lo, the dreams are past!'* And then to win you, pretty rose ! Then to hold you, then to fold you To my heart, till all is told you! Then to win my gentle rose! 58 THE DAY'S DELIGHT FROM out the depths of changeful sky The stars are fading — day is near: Along our paths the roses lie, And dawn reveals their splendor, Dear. And shall we grieve, dear Heart, — oh! why. At passing of this fairest night? We will not sigh a single sigh, But smile, and greet the day's delight. 59 SPRING IN WINTER THE cobbler flings aside his last, The prodigal forgets his past, On such a Day. Though honest toil is worthy praise, This is the time a Wise Man plays. Be wise! I say. Forget the things that cause you care, Sunshine and Spring are everywhere. My thoughts have fled Across the city, Dear, to you. Indeed, the sky is very blue. ' Look overhead! 60 IN PROFILE OH ! lovely little face that looks Intently into empty spaces, And peoples them from wonder books With fays and o^res, nymphs and graces! Fond glance all lambently aglow With fantasies too dear for telling! — Why, here I know, who see you so. Hot tears within mine own eyes welling. 61 THE DRAGON-SLAYER DO you remember, little friend, Our ^^wonder-story'' years? When gallant toy-swords quick defend A lady from her fears ! — When — tho' our frocks to dimpled knees Scarce reach — ^reat joy we feel At thought that yonder budding trees Hide '' Dragons '' for our ** steel"? Oh! then, as now, when rosy ^low Crowns each ^reen twi^, how sweet To lie where apple blossoms snow, — To linger at your feet! Yet graver dangers threaten here Than ** Dragons"; and my part To-day, as then, to ^uard you, Dear — A refuge in my heart! Ah! ugly dragon '^Youth-Forgot'' — ('Tis strange that men should yield So swiftly to him — is it not?) Dear Heart, whom Love may shield From ** Bitterness " and ** Cease-to-Care," ** Lost-Hope" and '' Dreams-that-Fade " — Dear little friend, they 're everywhere, But we are not afraid! 62 LO! IN THIS GARDEN 10 ! in this garden where, by Heaven's ^race, -^ Ni^ht blooms for us, a myriad-petalled star, World-weary, we have found a resting-place. The fountains murmuringly fall, and gleam In pools of silver where pale lilies are: Sleep thou, my heart, and haply thou shalt dream! Here, garlanded with roses red and white. Doth Life reveal — the ivory gate ajar — One perfect jewel, this hour of our delight! 63 MILESTONES THE milestones in a woman's life How bright they shine! Dear, you have told me some of yours, And here are some of mine. The first, that day of perfect bliss, When from the shelf Your dimpled fingers took the book All by yourself. And read, without a word of help (Reward or kiss). Of Alice in the Wonderland. — A milestone this! The next when, slender ankles hid By lengthened skirts, The episode received from man Its great deserts; And seeing you descend the stair, A child no more. Some friend of Father's said, **To see Is to adore!" Then, when the dancing and the fun As shared by Him Took on its true perspective, and The Stars grew dim, 64 And he bent down and whispered, ** Dear, You '11 wait for me!" So to the kingdom came the Queen You were to be! A milestone, when the little house Love built for you Was furnished, and the lamp Was lit for two; And, one white-lilac scented night. Your travelling o'er, Upon the whole wide outside world You locked the door! Again, beside the nursery fire. In its red glow. You sit, and that warm bundle sweet Rock to and fro. And ever on the sleeping eyes The mother-kiss Falls softly from your hungry lips. — A milestone this! 65 GREY MIST WREATHS GREY mist wreaths, over the pine trees Clear deepening ^^'^Yi the lake, — And the wind to our hearts that murmurs **Be brave, for Love's dear sake!'' Love that was born in sunshine. That waxed so fair with the rose, And yet that in winter woodlands Fairer and fairer ^lows. Ah! the hours we have been together! (Shall we always be held apart?) Fill the breathless forest silence With the Spring that was in your heart. So the wind sings thro' the pine trees And the mist wreaths float from afar: I have waited so long on the path. Dear! — We should meet beneath one star! 66 A VENETIAN ROSE HAST thou, Lui^i, forgot the poor flower Worn on thy breast, when pale stars sailed the sky? Gently thou pledged her for Love's golden hour, Life, life eternal — and now she must die. Heart o' me, bruised for a cause past confessing, Would that to-night the swift-flowing lagoon Over my sorrows might close and caressing Murmur, **She sleepeth — the Rose of One June/' Lo! as the rose strews her leaves and discloses Her golden heart, for a moment complete, I whom thou calledst **The Queen of the Roses," Sharing her ecstasy, find Death so sweet. 67 TO MY VALENTINE— R. N., Jr. ^ LOVELY garden blooms and blows xx Far from the land of Every ^ay. This is a song for One who chose To take me there with him to-day* A chubby-legged cheery elf: He went the path so steadily, And at the Toll-Gate paid the Pelf And entered just ahead of me. The roses turned and laughed for joy, The tulips raised their rosy heads — They loved to see the Little Boy. The purple pansies from their beds Looked shyly up and said, ^'Take us!" The jonquils crowded round his feet; The freesia made no kind of fuss Because he plucked and found them sweet. He gathered all his arms could hold, Plucked branches from the lilac trees, And gave them all to One he told Was sweeter, dearer far than these ! 68 The garden is not yours or mine: They say it lies a world away* ^ut yoUf who are my Valentine^ Have brought me there with you to-day. 69 TO A FRIEND THE pan^ is sore to those, dear Friend, Your path of pain who know; Who may not on your ways attend. Who know not where they wind or end. Nor why it must be so! When, crowned with a^ony, I yearned For Peace — and all in vain. You came to ease the pain that burned Within my heart. To you I turned, And lo ! surcease of pain ! I lon^ to heal you by this power. The blessings you did sow About my cross, where one dark hour I knew despair, a wondrous shower Of fragrant roses ^row. Oh ! far across the Wilderness My loving thoughts will speed To you, whatever your distress; And be their ^ift to heal and bless As ^reat as is your need! 70 THE SILVER WIND THE silver wind insistent blows: Yea, like a sword he searcheth free Here in thy very garden close Betwixt the rose-leaf and the rose; He searcheth, Love, for thee. Through silver flames that thickly stud Heaven's blue dark he calls to me, And seeks that sweet-scented lily-bud, Thy heart — yea, in mine own heart's blood He searcheth. Love, for thee. 71 AN INGLE SONG OH ! wondrous space of starry ni^ht, Of rose unfolding dawn and day! When parted, Dearest, lay our way, When June was robbed of her delight And all of Summer's loveliness. That garland fair of sound and sight! Without you, dear, no power to bless Had even Summer's loveliness! Oh ! snow-flakes drifting down the hill Upon our eaves so cold and bare! (The fire-light gleams upon your hair — Who said December nights were chill?) Amidst all Winter's loneliness We are unmindful of it still. Draw near me, love; your power confess To drive away all loneliness! 72 THE LOVER'S PRAYER WHEN Love is first away, Half blind with tears, we yearn Adown the twilight ^rey For his return. When Love has passed for aye (Oh, peace beneath the vine!) We smile and, si^hin^, say, ** Love once was mine." Lo! for such peace I pray, The balm of aching hearts That memories convey When Hope departs. 73 FROM A DUNE Nocturne THE lon^ low line against the sky, The yellow ^rey of sands that lie Half hid in sed^e, the throbbing blue Of Summer seas, and You and I Beside them — just we two! Your hand on mine, my heart for you To read — a book forever new ! Oh ! Lady of the Restful Dune, Our little world is shut from view — Now, Pan, thy pipes attune! Beneath the shimmering, waning moon. While baby stars in silver shoon Dance mad for joy — ah ! who shall say The Gods no longer grant a boon To mortals when they pray! 74 SUGGESTION ONE rose holds in her petalled heart The fragrance of all roses. My hand on thine before we part My very soul discloses. One shaft of ^old reveals the moon Through pine boughs intertwining. One broken word — our thoughts attune That else were past divining 1 Let it be so forever, Sweet ! Seek I, nor thou, no nearer To pierce Love's mystery. Complete, We should not find it dearer. / 75 THE FEASTING OF FI WITH eyes whose shining deeps alight Are pools where golden star-gleams quiver, And rose-red lips whose curves invite Man's heart to break — and yet forgive her! Strong, slender, young, the Princess Fi ! — And oh ! the world she oped to me! It was a rapture when she said (With looks made up of love and laughter), *' I hunger,'' or *M must be fed." You knew what crowning joy came after. If you were hers enough to see What *' feasting" means for such as she. The garnered fruit, the spice and wine Of great men's thought, great women's yearning, — This aws the food I found divine To share with her: my faint discerning Growing beneath her touch to be Fit comrade for the Princess Fi. Sweet Princess, lol the Grail of Fire, The chaliced rose, for you is gleaming! And we, who share the mind's desire And follow you, shall wake from dreaming. And in some far, faint dawn shall see What you have sought and found, my Fi! 76 THE MASQUE OF LOVE # /I 'Pantomime with dancing and Song Solos (This Masque was written in June, I9I5. to be set and rehearsed by the Author. She designed and decorated the stage for it in the ballroom of the Hunt Club at Southampton, L. I. The Masque was to have been the prelude to the opening dance of the season. Unfortunately, only fragments of the manuscript have been found.) CAST Six Follies Mystery Moonshine An Unseen Power SCENE y? formal garden — a hedge high at the sides and low at the back of the stage^ where on a pedestal is seen a marble statue of Love. Enter from the wings^ one at a time^ three pierrots and three pierrettes in white and black. They are masked — the men in white masks beneath their skull-caps; the women wear black masks beneath white-faced hats — black velvet on topf with white pumps and trimmings. They execute a pantomime of wheeling steps before the statue of Love^ then fling themselves on the ground in sorrowful attitudes, /} man^s voice sings: 77 ALL the Follies fathered here l\ On a ni^ht in June — What shall Cupid do for them, Cupid and the Moon? Cupid ever [Lines missing] They dance again and again^ and finally sink on the ground in attitudes of expectation. The voice sings: Follies, ask not Love appear Himself in Godlike ^uise: Never thus he shews himself Unto Follies' eyes ! His worshippers unseen — [Lines missing] They slowly rise and stand listening. Voice: Li^ht up the garden, Follies dear, And then you shall await him here! The Follies dance out and return with lighted rose-colored lanterns which they hang on various little wires concealed in the hedges. 78 [Lines missing] # /It the back of the stage only the lights among the roses are left, /Ind from behind the statue of Love arises a figure in sparkling silver^ with diaphanous white wings. Moonshine and her partner in black velvety Mystery, come forth slowly and begin a dance in which all the Follies finally join* Suddenly they lay fingers on lips: a clock strikes five: there is the sound of a rooster crowing: all the lights on the stage go out^ and the Follies, led by Moonshine and Mystery, come down into the audience as the stage turns absolutely dark. The lights go up: the rag- time music begins^ and the audience begins to dance. 79 ONE NIGHT IN TANGIER A SONG CYCLE ONE NIGHT IN TANGIER (The Author evidently intended to make of these songs a semi-dramatic whole with scenic directions and music complete, so that it could be presented on the stage. Of these directions, however, only fragments have been found among the Author's papers; but it is clear that the idea which underlies the series is that of a pair of young European lovers, who, wishing to dis- cover for themselves the Soul of the East, stray about the city of Tangier from one mysterious shadow to another, and hear from behind blank walls or from hidden house-tops the songs which reveal the flaming pas- sion that underlies the Oriental calm. The. first scene was to have been laid in an Embassy Garden, as the fol- lowing description, found attached to the manuscript, shews: Night. The dark luxuriant foliage of an Embassy garden— (presumably English) on the heights above Tangier. Masses of scarlet geraniums and heliotrope. In the foreground an effect of moonlight — and a stone garden-seat on which lies a woman's satin cloak. Incidental music: "Liebestod" from "Tristan and Isolde" or "Elevation" from Chaminade. The man and woman (he wearing a full-dress regimental uniform, she in a ball-gown) stand together, centre. Then follows the sketch of a recitative in which the man asks the woman to come out into the native quarter with him. And the cycle was to close where it began, in this Embassy Garden, for jotted down at the end of "Aftermath," the eleventh number, we find: Dawn music from Grieg's "Peer Gynt" or Mascagni's "Iris." On the height— the garden again— showing faint streaks of dawn in the sky. The woman sings as she sits on the garden seat — the man half kneeling near her. The stage directions for the intervening songs were either never written or have been lost.) 83 ONE NIGHT IN TANGIER SERENADE IN THE SPANISH QUARTER 'Baritone Solo AMID ^reen reeds the herons nest, L And in the garden close A butterfly hath found sweet rest Within a red, red rose. The moon, half hidden by the mist, Doth tend her flock of stars: The West winds wander where they list — Even to thy window bars. Thou knowest, alone of all the world, Where my fond heart seeks rest: More fair than roses dew-empearled, By sweeter winds caressed. Ah ! while the moon her vigil keeps Beside the wakeful stars, I linger where Pepita sleeps Beneath her window bars! 84 11 ON THE HOUSE-TOP Zuluki to her Lord the Sherifa Soprano Solo LO! while I rest on thine arm, J Listen, Lord! to my song. I have dreamed of the strife and alarm Of the Desert; and, strong As an eagle in flight, I would ride there this night! Ah ! the kiss of the sun on my brow Lingers still; and my heart. Which was thine — which is thine even now — Throbbing, bids me depart. From the desert I came, And my heart holds its flame. Would'st thou have me stay in this place When my spirit hath cried To the stars, stars that look down on the space Where the desert lies wide? Yea! the Rose of the Dawn Pierces me deep with its thorn! 85 Ill RIFFIAN LOVE SONG baritone Solo THROUGH the Burbana Valley flows A sin^in^ moon-kissed stream; Far on the banks the iris throws Her veil with pearls a^leam. Oh ! Thou, who in the white-roofed town Dost mock while Sidi sin^s, Couldst see but once the stork bend down, Her nestling 'neath her win^s, How far from all this dust and mire Oh, pallid Rose of May, Would'st thou within the moon's white fire Burn all my doubts away. 86 SONG OF THE CAMEL-DRIVERS ^ass Chorus OVB'J^ the burning sands we stride — Selim^ /Ihdallah^ Jlhmed^ all! Jlnd every hour we ride and ride ZVe hear the desert call, 'baritone Solo Heart of the caravan! who knows But thee how deep the sweetness lies Of rest, that like a petalled rose Unfolds beneath these skies. ^ass Solo We rest to-night amid this cheer: We feed our beasts with cakes of meal; Refresh yon saint who draws a-near, Then for his blessing kneel. baritone and 'Bass 'Duet For prayer and praise to Allah borne Adorn the beauty of this place, As gold and pearls and scarves adorn A maiden's slender grace. 'Bass Chorus repeated Over the burning sands we stride^ etc, 87 V FROM A HOUSE-TOP T)uet: Tenor and Soprano Sherifa {looking down) : *'TO! hath thy voice no new sweet J— i note for me?" J^zeeci [in the courtyard^ amid the myrtles) : ** What voice shall be attuned to sound so far?" Sherifa: **Thou knowest alone! a Rose of Melody!" /Izeed: ** From Azeed in the garden to a Star?" Flute Intermezzo Sherifa : ** Sweet slave, thou wearest chains ; why singest thou?" /Izeed: *' So souls in torment sing to ease their pain." Sherifa: *^And is that why I sing to thee, and now" — (a long pause) /Izeed: '* Why thou art silent! Hast thou sung in vain?" VI AZIZAH baritone Solo TAKE thou my scrolls and burn them one by one! They were not writ in praise of thy white brow I knew thee not until the April sun Revealed a budding rose, Azizah, thou! The dew we saw at yester-eve empearled, At dawn this day a mist of dreams became: So shall my son^s, thou Jasmine of the World, For love of thee dissolve in wreaths of flame. 89 Vll SONG OF THE KASBAH^ cMezzo Solo LO! all the dreams I called my own J I ^ave to thee. Star-son^s I san^ when, all alone, I wandered, free 1 And for my dreams, what ^avest thou? — For son^s, all flown? What precious guerdon have I now? — A stone! ^ KASBAH — Moorish citadel or prison. 90 Vlll BY THE SEA-WALL The Song of the 'Dancing Girl Soprano Solo THE white-walled town lies terraced to the sea; Its myriad lanterns would my step invite If I knew not, Oh Rose of my delight, That thou would^st come at dawn to comfort me! Though men have said, '*Lo ! there in chains of ^old She that was promised bride to some rude clown Dances to-night, nor fears the Basha's frown T' — Still by the sea-wall wait I as of old! 91 IX THE BLIND BEGGAR 'Bass Recitative WHO art thou proudly riding by? Lo! in the dust men see me lie, And for thine ear alone my cry! I who am come on evil days, I shrink not from the red sun's gaze: Yet thou, each dawn, doth fear his rays. Thou know'st, if Allah's truth were known. If all men reaped the harvest sown. If / should lie here, blind, alone! 92 X THE THOUGHTS OF ZAHRA Mezzo Solo MY mother tells me all the ancient tales Of maidens carried off by bandits tall: She bids me stay within, lest there befall Some evil to our house; and yet she fails To make me happy, carding wool till night. The bird that sits upon the almond tree Has sung to me, **Zahra, girl, thy fingers white Should find more sweet employment, wert thou free." Far in the desert where the hot stars glow, With my bold chieftain would I ride and ride! Lo! if at Ramadan I am a bride, I would it were to such an one I go. My mother says that jackals ever call The listening doe into the desert far: But oh ! these bandit chieftains straight and tall, How quite unlike our town-bred men they are! 93 XI AFTERMATH On the heights above 'cMsallah Soprano Solo FAR, far below the clear Muezzin calls: So call us Love and Life 1 The dawn, how fair The murmur of the fountains as they fall, The rose unfolding, these shall be our prayer! One night of stars and song, of song divine That bids us take no heed of race or creed! Beloved, still your hand is clasped in mine. And we are dreaming of the whole world's need. 94 f GRACE CLARKE NEWTON at the "Castillo de la Cabana," Havana, Cuba March, I9I5 OCCASIONAL STANZAS WRITTEN IN BOOKS, ON THE REVERSE OF PICTURES, ETC. '/-^ — . 98 A LINE TO LIVE BY (On a blank page in the Poems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning) KEEP thou the poet's heart! With thy spade in the clod Thou art still a part Of the quickening God. 99 AFTER THE QUARREL (On a page of " The Smart Set" by Clyde Fitch) IF 'tis your will to make a mystery Of women, and, above all women, of me, I can but smile. Sweetheart. — So let it be! But what a devious path you choose, when near The fair, broad road of Truth lies straight and clear. — And how I long to tread it with you, Dear 1 100 IN A LETTER (Two of several stanzas in a letter to a "Captain Courageous' on his leaving Bermuda) PRAY, may you always see this As it looks to-day to me — Like a matrix ed^ed with amber In the midst of a turquoise sea. The jewels of no sacred Buddha, No ima^e in a shrine, Could ^low with a deeper beauty Than this of an hour di\>ine. lOI INFLUENCE (In an old diary) ONE slender spire against the sky; One chime of bells, soft, low, and clear. But at the sight and sound draw near A hundred souls to God on high ! 102 ON A SMALL IVORY BUDDHA Sent to John R. Paxton, D.D., on his Birthday ASM I LING sa^e, whose age, maybe, Dates back to dynasty **Kang-He/' Presents this scroll to you, • Conveying in his polished way The charming things I 'd like to say, Yet lack the wit to do! I know not what your age may be. But 'tis a far cry from old ** Kang-He/' Still, every year you 've shown To all the way that one may give The greatest happiness: — To Live^ /Ind Love the things you ^ve known! 103 DO TWO WHO DREAM (On the fly-leaf of " Aucassin and Nicoletc") DO two who dream dreams Ever know themselves quite, Or quite know each other? For the stars of my dream Are eternity's ni^ht In the heart of my brother! Do we who love life Ever know what the Spring With an almond tree blooming Is to one for whom life Is a bird on swift wing, — And Love, fire consuming? 104 FOR A SUN-DIAL SCULPTURED BY ENID YANDELL SPRINGTIDE and the world aflame— hours like snails do creep and clin^: Rose-crowned June — the Heart's desire — Time takes flight on eagle wing: Autumn soothes in her embrace what remains of Life, Oh! Friend — Presage of th' enfolding shroud Winter weaves us for the End! 105 ALICE IN WONDERLAND (On the fly-leaf of Lewis Carroll's book) WHAT is a palace Without its Wonderland? If you do not know Your ^* Alice/' Why, you cannot Understand More than half we Say to you, More than half we Think or do! 106 WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY (On the fly-leaf of Henley's Poems) AND shall we jud^e him, Heart o* Mine, /\ While everywhere the Spring — That filled his son^ with scent of pine And roses whispering — On twi^ and blade and shivering vine Its robe of buds doth flin^? Nay! lift the cup: drink down the wine; And then thou, too, may^st sing! 107 I READ A LITTLE BOOK (On a page of "The Secret Life," as a dedication to Mary H.) I READ a little book to-day That made me think of You! Well spiced with wit, half ^rave, half gay, And wholly tender: quite your way Of taking Life in view. It brushed the cobwebs from the pane; It set one dreaming true. Ah, like a quickening April rain With all of Summer in its train, It made me think of You! 108 ON A PICTURE Of Fra Lippo Lippi, who, dressed in his monkish robe, was painting a beautiful young Sister of Mercy as a Madonna, and suddenly fell at her feet and poured out his love for her. ^*/^^H, Love enshrined, Mother of winged Love, V^y Over me still his rosy pinions trailing! How shall one's thoughts be of the Heavenly Dove When all my prayers to Heaven prove unavailing, And thou dost still behold me with mad eyes Although thou sit'st wrapped round in Mercy's guise?" (Thus Lippo Lippi to a cloistered rose, Venus in Madonna's semblance, breathing sweetness:) **Thou in my heart to rob it of repose, Thou in my art to rob it of completeness — What must I take from thee? Thy peace? Now mine Hath fled — thou too shalt know unrest divine!" 109 IN CHILDHOOD'S DAY TO R. N., Jr. (On a comical drawing of fat babies, called "Kiss the One You Love Best") AH ! if one only could obey L The heart's true prompting now, as then, In childhood's sweet, untroubled day! — Kiss when we list, and kiss again. But somehow Fate, the green old Dame, Has made it wrong to love you, Dear! I may not look lest some should blame — How much less kiss, or hold you near! 110 TO MAURICE HEWLETT (On a blank page in Hewlett's "Open Country") YOU, who help US understand To what bourne our thoughts may go You, our friend 1 Across the sand Cleanly fresh the sea winds blow. You, the brother to this wind, Make us brothers of your mind! Ill EACH DAY IS A SONG (On the fly-leaf of "Venetian Life" by W. D. Howells) I AEAR, the beauty of blossoms is borne I ^ To my heart in a son^ far more sweet Even than son^s that I sang in that dawn Of Life-longing which Love shall complete- Complete in the fullness of life, In the power to be silent and strong. — Ah ! the beauty of springtide is rife In my heart, and each day is a song. 112 BY THE SEA-SHORE (On a blank page in Thoreau's "Waldcn") SO blue the sky above; so blue The sea that ripples at our feet; But in thine eyes, steadfast and true, Still fairer blue I find, my Sweet! Oh ! calm and bright are August skies, And deep and peaceful is the sea: And all these dwell within those eyes Which turn in love to me 1 113 L^ ENVOI (At the end of a diary, after a trip from Washington to Colorado) TO dream a^ain of happy hours, What pleasure near akin to pain I Forgotten all the passing showers — To dream a^ain of happy hours. One thinks but of the Autumn flowers That strewed our pathway after rain. To dream a^ain of happy hours — What pleasure near akin to pain! 114 IN LIGHTER VEIN THE GLOW-WORM AND THE BUTTEI^FLY AG LOW- WORM loved a pansy shy Whose charm had been discovered by A ^ay flirtatious butterfly. — I wonder why! In the quiet garden close, Where a glow-worm brightest glows, Pretty little pansy chose The butterfly? Refrain: The pansy was so shy. The glow-worm was so bright That when he flashed upon her sight The timid thing began to cry! He was the better fellow — quite — But still she chose the butterfly! 'Tis better far that lips should meet, That lovers tell their secrets sweet Where darkness shrouds their snug retreat. Perhaps the glow-worm might Secure this timid pansy's heart By floating down, with quiet art, Sans lamp — when butterflies depart At fall of night! Refrain: The pansy was so shy, etc. 117 LINES WRITTEN IN A PARLOR CAR I HAD a vision of a Pullman car — Yea, of a parlor-car at Summer noon, Where, clad in spotless linen, stood ye coon, Serving iced water from a crystal jar To one recumbent in a wide-armed chair, Bamboo or wicker, on a cool bare floor Still showing signs of where an hour before It had been sprinkled against the noon-day fare. The walls (between wide windows), panelled green, Had felt the grateful shower, and on them hung Baskets of hardy ferns which softly swung As the train glided through the changing scene. Just then I woke, and all was tawdry-gay And cheap of aspect, as a parlor-car Has ever been, and will be, near and far In this luxurious land of ours, they say. The dust lay thick and thicker everywhere; My chair resembled such as dentists own: Its velvet horror scorched me to the bone, Though to possess it I M paid double fare. 118 And yet it 's highly probable that we — Yes, I the kicker, you who ^rin and bear This beastly state of things — won't turn a hair To change these torments in the least decree. 1 19 MY PAL (To an old photograph of a baby) THE bald-head baby wunct I wuz, I hev a softy spot fer him, Although the picter thet wuz took Thet lon^ ago is fadin' dim An' where his head wuz bald — why, now The snow is growin' kinder slim 1 Fer when I look in his moon face, Inter them round, confidin' eyes. It kinder makes me glad ter think Thet I wuz wunct thet happy size; An' then, in spite o' bandy laigs. My Mammy thought I wuz a ** prize"! I never did amount ter much — I 've bed my knocks, an' some wuz hard- But when I 'm feelin' ruther down I take out thet old picter-card. An' thet durn baby seems ter wink An' say, ** I stand fer ye, old pardl" 120 A SCHEVENINGEN IDYL NEATH the awning white and crimson of her balcony, Annette, A pensive, black-robed vision, smoking a cigarette, Looked out o'er the flower-boxes, and smiled as our glances met. I 'd come to the quaint Dutch village, in the train of an English Miss, Whom my people thought perfection, and my future wedded bliss; And I too nearly thought so, till I caught a glimpse of this! I passed to the Kursaal dreaming, waltzed with fair Miss Brown: What a stupid place I found it; how I wished she had stayed in town ! And my heart went wandering backward to the girl in the sombre gown. 121 Yes, and that self-same evening — oh, readers wise and good! — My heart obeyed love's prompting, and beside Annette I stood (Since Romeo started climbing, I hold all lovers should!). She murmured, ^*We 're dreaming, surely; but we will not wake just yet." Then she handed me demurely a Russian cigarette. And I held her hand securely, till she told her name — Annette. The rest was soon forthcoming: she 'd been married (quite a child) To a Count with the loveliest whiskers, who her girlish heart beguiled, And who now in the nearest churchyard lay quietly domiciled. We did not disinter him by a single wish that night; We loved each other madly, at what poets call ** first sight," And we planned a life of roses beneath the moon's pale light! 122 This story has no moral (the real ones seldom do!)f I ^ot an introduction from someone we both knew, And I married her the instant that her year of ** ^rief " was through. So here 's to Scheveningen! It's a hard, hard word to say, But I 'd repeat it over a hundred times a day As a password for all lovers who chance to pass that way! 123 MISS POKY IS ON HER ALLOWANCE OH ! when I was a careless kid And did n^t tie my shoes — Why, then I did enjoy myself — But now I have the blues. I used to flin^ my dresses up Just ''somehow" on a rack; My hats fell often from the shelf — But now I put them back. But oh ! what ^ood times once I had, Before I got so neat! Then everybody scolded me, Yet oh ! the cause was sweet. I simply did n't think of clothes, Or what they cost to buy; But, now I pay for them myself. With care I 'm like to die. Oh ! children, when I see you roll Your gloves up in a ball. And not blow out each finger, neat, — I wish / could, that 's all 1 124 MY SAMPLER (Written on the back of a sampler purchased at the Drake sale) A SAMPLER is a piece of crash . Worked with an aphorism dreary By some bepantaletted tot, Who of the whole affair ^rew weary. Can you not see the maiden aunt Coming to visit at Pawtucket, And setting her small niece this ''stunt'' Because she was too youn^ to chuck it? Why is it when we pine in youth For love and luxury and beauty, We are content in middle a^e To show the young the '* Path of Duty"? 125 ISABEL THE SIMPLE STUDENT MAID ON an evening warm and balmy, in the month of smiling June; When home folks all are out of town, and everything 's in tune; You may take a spin to Claremont, in a hansom — quite alone! As / did on the evening that she marked me for her own. Isabel stood on the terrace, looking — oh! so fair and sweet; And she murmured, '* I am sure this is the place we were to meet!" Now I had not planned a meeting, so I naturally turned To ask her whom she waited for, and this is what I learned: ** I 'm at school here, up the river, and my Uncle Willie dear Invited me to dine with him, and now he is not here! '' Refrain: I sabel ! I sabel ! I sabel ! She is fearfully timid and shy; You find it very hard to tell 126 Whether still she 's ^t school, though you try But it seems to the average fellow Her standard of learning is high, For I fell 'neath your spell, Isabel! Oh! And awoke when you bade me **Good-bye'M It was such a pleasant dinner: she 'd a pretty taste in wine! Showed a knowledge quite remarkable of products of the vine: And when I marvelled gently that a school-girl knew so much. She said she ^'studied vintages, in pints, to keep in touch"! And while the ruddy ducks were disappearing from her plate. She told me of her student life — the horrid things they ate. How kindly Uncle Willie, when he came to see her there. Was shocked to hear the story of that very meagre fare! How he 'd asked they meet at dinner **at the nearest Wayside Inn'' — And the school was on the Hudson, so at Claremont she ** dropped in." Refrain: Isabel! Isabel! Isabel! etc. 127 THE ROSEBUD WITH A PAST SAID one small rosebud, blushing red, The parent stem unto, ** I have no Past!" — she hun^ her head- ^^Mama, I feel so new!^^ The rose mama replied, *' I fear This feeling will not last; And youth, which causes it, my dear, Is all too quickly past/' But still the little bud, they say. Quite rushed upon her fate: So keen was she to find the way That ** Pasts" accumulate. She started up her first affair Beneath the crescent moon — A nightingale who clave the air With songs of Love-in-June. Bright butterflies, by twos and threes. For her braved every thorn. She gave one petal to a Breeze Who kissed her at the dawn: 128 And then, as Summej^ fairer ^rew, Her heart unclosed to One — A Star, who shone up in the blue, And thought the whole thing '*fun." He beamed upon her, now full-blown. And must have found her sweet — But one short hour and she was strewn Like those beneath our feet. Experience is dearly bought ; What had she in return? The little Rose the Star had taught, Who gave her life to learn ! I know that you '11 agree with me, Though in all else I 'm wrong: 'Tis a foolish little girl who 'd be Like the Rosebud of my song. 129 THE SONG OF THE HUNTER (An answer to some verses by Amos Pinchot entitled "The Song of the Farmer") OH ! why should anyone desire To wear a coat of black (Or any kind of mufti) and To ride a gentle hack? Yes, even to motor to a meet Is not the way to ride! When hounds are cast upon the ^reen It is a ^^^ood-un's*' pride To push his gallant bay or ^rey Well up into the race, And take four feet of timber sound At steeplechasin^ pace. The farmers are a noble set In England's hunting shires. ~ Their joy in hunting equals quite **His Lordship's" or *^The Squire's.'' But here the cry of **Get a gun! The Red Coats are in sight!" Began in Good King George's day, When each man proved his right To guard with arms his well tilled fields; And still, alas, 'tis true That slogan brings the farmer out To lay for. me and you! [The rest is missing] COMPARISONS IT makes the spirits bright, they say, To know what deaths the martyrs bore When one endures in books to-day A martyrdom of ennui sore : And when one's cook has done her worst , And Quests appear — no heart need fail, Remembering men have died of thirst, While here are ** cakes and ale"! A^ain, when you are pledged as due V To pay the mournful last respects To someone that you scarcely knew, This much your sombre gloom affects: — If as you hear the funeral chime Toll overhead, an awesome thing. You '11 think how you 'd regret a time You could n't hear it ring! 131 PAULINE SAID her very dearest friend: *'When they criticize Pauline, Then of course I shall defend: But that motor-veil of green That she wears around her hat Makes her look — well, almost gay! I don't like it, and that 's flat — I shall tell her so to-day/' (And she did!) Thought the lover of her youth : **When I met Pauline to-night, How I longed to speak the truth And to tell her she was quite Too adorable and young For her unprotected life. From the world's censorious tongue I could save her, as my wife." (So he thought.) Croaked her rigid spinster aunt: ^* Now I think it 's out of place That Pauline should boldly flaunt Her good spirits in my face! 132 If her husband was a brute, He has not been dead one year; And tho' more I 'd not impute, She 's flirtatious — that is clear!'' (And she was I) Dear Pauline, with shining eyes She sat ^azin^ at her star And the ^lory of the skies, As the Thin^s-That-Really-Are In their depths shone dew-empearled. Low she laughed, **Tho' I can see That I shall not please the world. Love and Life shall laugh with me!" (And they did!) 133 ANY HUSBAND TO ANY WIFE AS lonely kittens hide below x\ A bureau or a bed, My thoughts, that erstwhile used to flow- So freely, now ^o to and fro With saddened, timorous tread. It is not that I love you less. Or that I wish to roam; But all the instincts I repress Turn city-ward, and you confess You love our country home. Now I Ml confess: the bull-frog's croak Gives me a pan^ of woe. And I could scarcely see the joke When yesterday at dawn I woke And heard a rooster crow. Asphaltum on the city street Protects my morning ^^Pi The thickness of the walls complete An isolation far more sweet Than su^ar in the sap. 134 Here, list the childr^^s morning bath Progressing in the tub! Small wonder that *'The Man of Wrath" Is all the name the club-man hath Who wandereth from his club. I murmur not when you Ve inclined To sigh at Summer's wane; I face my Fall with quiet mind, And, going forth from Eden, find A solace on the train. This is the difference in us two. That 's bred in bone and brain, (Yes, serious ^* differences'' to you!) Of which I take a rosy view And rend no house in twain. 135 THE GUEST-BOOK HE took an early train — 'Twas early when they missed him; He went off in the rain Before the baby kissed him! The Guest-Book must explain What wrecked his nervous system ! What he had written there : ''Although I am a ^uest, There 's one thin^ quite upsets me; And now the time seems best To mention just what frets me. It ou^ht to be confessed Before the mad-house ^ets me. **It is the prospect drear That custom has decreed us; Of writing something here Before the host will speed us. (Tell him one's head feels queer, And he will never heed us!) '* He '11 murmur, *When you si^n, Just write a quatrain clever!' Of course you know the Mine' 136 Of verse that states * forever This home will seem like mine/ (That means three hours' endeavor!) ^*So many more there be Of scribbling fools before you, You turn the leaves and see A host of rhymes that bore you. Alas! find two or three That are so ^ood they floor you. **So here I rack my brain, While Summer's li^ht is dawning, To beat this Guest-Book bane And ^et out quick this morning. May these few rhymes insane Serve as an awful warning!" 137 THE ONION-VENDER Jl Coster Song OH ! Lize, don't you know the cove behind the barrer? 'Ow my manly 'eart 's a-swellin' as I shove it! The time is past when thoughts of honest work can 'arrer Up my feelinks. For your sake, dear, I 'm above it; For you, and you alone. At almost anythink that 's straight I 'd wear my fingers to the bone! You said your 'eart 'ad bled To 'ear me called, as once I was, on every 'and, '^ARollin' Stone." So that 's why I first started in to roll a barrer, Crying, ** Onions! Buy my onions!" to surprise yer! 'Tis no onion brings the dewdrops to my eyes, 'Tis the thoughts as 'ow I 'm pleasin' Liza! 138 y Oh ! Lize, well I know that I 'ave caused yer sorrer, That yer pretty eyes 'ave often filled to 'spy me Reel past to the pub, to drink up what I 'd borrer* I 'ates to think 'ow 'appiness went by me! Until you murmured low, **Ohl chuck it, Bill!" and 'urried by me with your blushing face a^low, I say, this was the way You knocked me sober; and I loved yer, as I loves yer, dear, to-day. And that 's why I first be^an to roll my barrer, Crying, ^^ Onions! Buy my onions!'' to surprise yer! 'Tis no onion brings the dewdrops to my eyes, 'Tis the thoughts of 'ow I 'm pleasin' Liza! Ill Oh ! Lize, when I sells my onions in yer alley. Where you sit a-makin' of yer weddin' bonnet, Yer calls out, *''Ow goes it. Bill?" so sweet and ** pally"! I kiss yer as yer sews the roses on it. You says: *'Give over now!" 139 But I know yer does n't mean it, so I places on yer brow A few more kisses to Jist remind yer what on Sunday you 'ave promised for to do! And that 's why I first be^an to roll my barrer, Crying, ** Onions! Buy my onions!*' to surprise yer! 'Tis no onion brings the dewdrops to my eyes, 'Tis the thought as 'ow 1 *ve won yer, Liza! 140 REPiySALS YOU watch the love-light in her eyes, The happiness, the glad surprise; And if it glow Until the tiny spark to flame Has burst, more interesting the game Is wont to grow. You sit beside her at a dance, Seeing her tremble 'neath your glance. And whisper low, The while your hand steals near her own. Conveying o'er love's telephone: '* I love you so! *' She says she ^* understands'' — it 's more Than you can say when she 's a bore A week from then! You know that flirting is a sin. But it is one you revel in. —You '11 flirt again ! Until some day some little girl Will set your head and heart a-whirl. And you '11 incur The worry, doubt and black despair! The debts you owe those damsels fair You '11 pay to her! 141 MABEL SNOW HAVE any of you met Miss Mabel Snow? Not a bit of a coquette, and yet not slow! (Oh, no!) In a restaurant I waited For a friend who was belated And at a table near me sat Miss Snow! ** Oh ! Please, sir, have you seen my brother Joe? I 'm sure this is the place he said to go. I 've been waiting here for hours/* Here her eyes, like purple flowers Filled with dew, began to gently overflow. How you prattled during supper, Mabel Snow, Of the little farm at Orange, Essex Co. ! How it seemed an awful pity You had never seen the city. And to-day, your eighteenth birthday, you and Joe (Brother as devoted as a beau!) Had started for the town to have a ^^blow'M How he left you at the ferry. And you made a compact merry To meet at ^* Jack's*' for supper and **the show"! Little Mabel Snow, A long account you owe. 142 There were suppers after this one that be^an my tale of woe. Yet I must confess (it's true, too!) When I saw you first I knew you For the little blonde in spangles, of the Casino second row! 143 WHO ARE YOU? OR, HOW TO TELL THE REAL ONES FROM THE REST A HANDBOOK IN RHYME FOR THE HUMAN-NATURE CLASS # FOREWORD THERE never was smoke without flame, And the do^ whom we give a bad name Knows, probably, why we bestow it. I confess that I like to be known. Through the strong predilections here shown Toward the Brutes, as an Animal Poet! Though Landseer, I trust you will note. Was the ** Animal Painter'' (I quote From the popular phrase of the hour!). And Barye is famed to this day As the Genius who fashioned in clay The Beasts in their beauty and power, cMy ** mission'' is helping, you see! If you ever ''came down a tree" Or ''out of a hole," like some others: If you can get up from "all fours," If you have a "tough hide" or "long claws," And if the "queer fish" are your brothers! 147 THE COTILLION LEADER OUR Jungle Folk are very bored; The Lion is tired of '* lionizing/' And so he makes the Jungle's lord A Monkey! What is most surprising, This choice is pleasing to the rest; They all enjoy the merry jest! The Monkey gets up '* shows" and ** balls/' Designs gauze dresses for the ladies; And all must caper when he calls, Although they find it hot as — Newport! Yes! Watch him swing from limb to limb, And all the Jungle follow him! The Elephant is nearly dead; The Hippo has some weight to carry; But still they gasp, '' How well it 's led! " And **Is there anyone like Larry?" He makes a Monkey of each one; And yet the creatures think it 's fun ! 148 PARSON OWL'S TEST QUESTIONS THE woodland Gretna Green is here: An Owl is Parson — and 'tis said Eloping birds from far and near Apply to him when they would wed. He says: **Have You the Wit to Woo? Then come to me, I '11 see you through!" The Lark, the Pheasant, and the Wren; He says the words, the fee is small; The Puddle Duck, the Barnyard Hen, — He ** splices" anyone at all Except the rascally Cuckoo ! **To Wit, Have You the Right to Wool" 149 THE GRATEFUL ELEPHANT A PHILANTHROPIC Chimpanzee (A spinster living quite alone In a salubrious cocoa-tree) Longed for a playmate of her own; And so she '^advertised'' the fact That she had ''cocoa-nuts to feed Deserving Parties!" This was tact, The forest hoboes all agreed* An Elephant outstripped them all, For hope and hunger made him fleet. She came down to "receive'' his "call," And gave him cocoa-nuts to eat. She so appealed to his good taste That, closing both his eyes, he wound His trunk about the lady's waist To show his gratitude profound! She murmured, " Do you want some more?"- Meaning the cocoa-nuts, of course — But he, who thought her sentence bore A sweet construction, hugged with force! He did not dare to fix his mind Upon her face and figure spare; So hugged away and "went it blind," And knew not that she gasped for air! 150 Poor Grateful Eleplyint! alas! Poor Philanthropic Chimpanzee! She lay at rest upon the ^rass ; He mourned her loss beneath the tree And though it grieved him to adjust His quondam hostess's estate, He formed the thing into a ** Trust," And everything in sight he ate! 151 THE AQUARIUM OLOOK, Papa!" says Hopeful Boy; **The little porpoise is so cute! Just see her gambol, full of joy — But who is that great ugly brute That steers her course so close beside her?*' '' That 's her Mama : 'tis well you spied her." '* O hear the duckling in the pond! How soothing is her low * Quack! Quack!' But, Gad! her relatives are fond Of making quite an awful clack!" **And so will she, my son, when older." The hopeful feels his love grow colder. '*That little lobster over there — How daintily she waves her claws!" '*Of such, my boy, I pray beware. Lest you be gripped between her jaws; A young one — blithely do we choose her, But in old age it 's hard to lose her!" 152 THE HYPNOTIC TURKEY AND HOW HE HAD THE BARNYARD BELLES BLUFFED TO DEATH COME hither, O my pretty Chicks!'' The Turkey cries — and up they hobble Even a^ed Hens ^et in the mix To listen to his ** Gobble! Gobble!" They think it is a **bid" to dine, But all the while he knew he gave it When he had stuffed enough — in fine, Of what remained, small good to save it! There always are a lot of ^^ peaches Who like the after-dinner speeches. tf 153 THE HOUNDED PORCUPINE THE Porcupine be^an life ^aily By editing the '^Jungle Daily." The busy bees were his reporters, The Katydids his staunch supporters. Soon bigger brutes commenced to fear him, So they put up a game 'Ho queer him*'! They sent a band of monkeys to him. Ostensibly to ^Mnterview'' him. Of course he gave the saucy creatures A shower of Quills; his finest Features He cast away into their faces. They plucked them forth, with wry grimaces. And dipping in the Mud around them, They wrote *^ GREAT MEN AS WE HAVE Found Them." Carlyle, Mark Twain, and Horace Greeley Were in his Class — they ** carved" them freely — But he received their largest Lemon. The Porcupine they bathed in Venom: They said, ** His Reason must be rocking" — ^*His Rudeness to his Wife is shocking" — 154 They criticized his Style of Dressing; They said, **His death would be a blessing." This final touch was past all bearing — The Porcupine became despairing: Of ^^ Writer's Cramp" or ^* Quill Congestion" He died — a case of ** Thought Suggestion" ! 155 THE GIDDY GOAT ODO you know the Giddy Goat? At week-end parties you will find him; He steers your motor-car or boat, And leaves all others far behind him. What tho' he lands you on the rocks? '* You can't have speed without some shocks !" The Goat gets up ** Gymkhana'* games, And everybody *s in the races. He says, *' I only want your names,'' But you should see their anxious faces! The Hippo and the coy Baboon ** Tie " for a ** place " in Egg and Spoon ! His ''Tableaux Vivants " are the rage: The young Giraffe, as ** Trilby," knocking. The Parrot, looking half her age, Is ** Fair Susanna" (rather shocking; But so are half the things we note!) — *^ Pray, don't be prudish! " says the Goat! On rainy Sundays he will say, ^' Let 's read aloud 'twixt tea and dinner." So matrons grave and damsels gay All gather round to hear ^'The Sinner" — ^^ A moral tale, but not a tract," The Goat explains. ** It deals with fact!" 156 THOUGHTFUL TUTTI FRUTTI t OR, THE BRIGHT KITTEN WHO KNEW THE VALUE OF PRINKING A ONE-EYED cat Stood on the mat Outside a city basement — A ^* Persian" rare With red-gold hair Reclined within the casement. ''O tell me why/* Said poor One-Eye, ''The difference in our stations? You Ve but a Cat, Yet sleek and fat From Lion's share of rations!" Said Auburn Hair, '' I know I 'm fair: They call me Tutti Frutti! I keep my hold On humans cold By caring for my beauty. I undulate My gold-red pate; I manicure my nails. Dear; And that is why At ease I lie. And you 're outside the rails, Dear!" 137 THE LIFE OF THE PARTY THE ^ay Hyena ^oes to dine So merrily, his fame is ^rowin^: His lau^h *s **The Thing/' No vintage wine Is needed, you can ** start him going'' On aged jokes and ginger ale: His sense of humor will not fail! If Lions are your honored guests. Parrots and Monkeys come to meet them. The latter make some feeble jests ; The birds quite feverishly repeat them; But all are much depressed and awed By those Great Creatures at your board! When enter — greeted by a roar Of welcome — our inveterate joker! He cries, '^ These * functions' are a bore! I gave up such a jolly Smoker — The Friendly Sons of Fat Giraffes! — To come to you!" Then how he laughs! Now, even Lions like to feel As if, at parties given for them. All merriment did not congeal! If you 're a guest, and would not bore them, Pretend you are not scared one bit, And you will make /I Perfect Hit! 158 THE WALKING DELEGATE A CHIPMUNK bold (So I 've been told) Was storing nuts away, When ** Peter Rab" Said, ^* You Ve a * scab ' To work nine hours a day! It 's lots more fun To cut and run. The farmer makes his hay, But who would be A ^farmer'? We Find farming does not pay!'' The Chipmunk stopped; His store he dropped; He wept and wrung his paws — His back was turned The while he yearned And dreamed about **The Cause/' But Mister Rab Just called a cab (He simply hated rain!) — The nuts he took, Lest it might look The laborer worked in vain ! 159 THE FLIPPANT FOX AND THE SANCTIMONIOUS COON A FLIPPANT Fox with pointed nose, Red whiskers and a jaunty air, Goes Vound the town as one who knows A trick or two, and ^ets the stare Of cold disdain from mothers fond. Who scuttle with their tender brood Or chase their Goslings to the pond. The Fox observes this conduct rude; And, stun^ and smarting, 'neath the moon He meets a sanctimonious Coon! ** I ask you,^' says the Fox, **do you Cause much alarm on field and fen? Yet I should say that of us two You *ve done more harm to Dove and Hen ! *' The Coon replies, ** Observe my smile, My quiet suit, my walk sedate. You look the * Sport'; my lack of style Gets me the Game; you ^et the Gate!'' So when you meet a Fox in ^rey Just guard your roost at close of day! 160 THE LARGE FROG TELLS HOW HE ACHIEVED NOTORIETY THE Pond is full of little Fish, The Sea can boast its Whales; But here are Minnows in a Dish. I sit beside them And deride them — A plan that never fails! They nearly wiggle off their tails To hear me say, ** Pish ! Pish ! " 161 THE PUPPIES' SCHOOL THE blind Boy Puppies ^o to school^ Fat, optimistic little fellows! How sad it seems, by Fate's misrule, That one who ^* brays" or one who ^'bellows" Shall be the first to blur their brains To what this world of ours contains! ''The Daisies, how they crowd the ^rass!" ''Lads,'* says the Bull, "all such suspect!" Ah me, the dull, portentous Ass! They listen to him with respect When with a glance that fairly bristles He says, " The thin^ we need is — Thistles! " Small wonder, when their eyes unclose. This vegetable talk supplies No guidance for the joys and woes In which they plunge with haste unwise. The Puppies' Perfect Peda^o^ue Would be a wise old Shepherd Dog! 162 THE HIGH-FLYING SPIDER THIS is the story of a Spider, Devoted slave to daughters twain. For seasons long tbey sat beside her, And tho' she racked her fertile brain And spun a web of fairy lace On window panes. No ardent swains Were noticed hanging 'round the place. Said she, **We must be up-to-date When Matrimony is the Game! '' And so she chose the garden gate (Which still enjoys a splendid name For '^making matches'' — ** catching flies") But each gay Fly Went flying by In fly ** Machines" of wondrous size! You all have heard the proverb terse About the ''Mote" in someone's eye! But this old Spider had what 's worse— A Motor-Car or two; and why She should not rope their owners in She failed to seel We must agree She who flies high is apt to win ! 163 ^* I 've seen/' observed the Spider, ''where The honey in the Swarm is found! Hard by the village Garage! There The air is filled with humming sound. Not only Moths and Butterflies But Motor Bugs And sparking plugs! We '11 hasten there to 'Hypnotize!'" Smart caps and goggles made our misses Appear so ravish ingly sweet That Flies in fast "machines" threw kisses, And soon they had them at their feet. 'Twas but the twinkling of an eye, The game was theirs! And now, in pairs, Their Mother sees them motor by! 164 THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE PASTURE I NEVER saw a cow or sheep That could be called ** neurotic/' That lost its appetite or sleep, Or when it laughed, began to weep, That needed a ''narcotic/' And witness, on the other hand, The galleries of Florence, The columns of old Rome: they stand, By some great human creatures planned Who held ''nerves" in abhorrence. When they felt "jumpy" in those days, They wrestled, bathed or boated; They wrote an ode in woman's praise. They builded temples to amaze The Gods on whom they doted. They went not languidly to pray, Nor solemnly to dinner: They fought for laurel or for bay, They trod erect the golden way, They lived: — sage, saint and sinner! 165 /I note found written on the hack of a map of the run of the Suffolk Hounds. THICKET GATE September 29, 1 906. After this run, which was one of the most beau- tiful I ever saw (Dick riding "Tornado"), I came back here, lit the lamps, got tea ready, and then when Dick rode in he saw the light shining from our own little house ; he blew a "salute" on his hunting-horn and, in his pink coat, came home to tea. It is a memory long — no, ever — to be cherished. G. C. N. /Jnd here ends this first volume of Poems in Passing by Grace Clarke Newton, of which 152 copies only have been printed by The ^eVinne 'Press, New York, on hand-made paper, and the type distributed, in this year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and sixteen. Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 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