Class Ps..3.;r3:r 
 Book_^J 3 ^ .5" P<^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
POEMS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE AFTERMATH 
 
POEMS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE AFTERMATH 
 
 BY O-R 
 
 . J*9-2*2 
 

 Copyright by Oscar Richardson 
 
 ©CI.A692328 
 
 Thomas Todd Co., Printers, Boston 
 
 DEC 11 "22 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 War and Peace 
 
 Self Determination 
 
 Portraits 
 
 Meditations 
 
 Nature 
 
 Our Crisis 
 
TO MY WIFE 
 
 O, beautiful her friendly spirit gleams, 
 A fair oasis on the sands of time* 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 Sometime agfo Mn Todd printed for me a little book 
 of verse* The several attempts it contained, to give 
 thougfhts expression in verse, were at that time in a 
 more or less unfinished state; but I wished to have 
 many of my old friends read them, and so sent them 
 out as they were* Since then I have completed them 
 and written others, with a translation or two, and Mr* 
 Todd has again made a book of them, the genuine 
 workmanship of which speaks for itself* 
 
 For secretarial work and the privilege of unusual 
 books in her library, I am indebted again to Miss 
 Louella D* Everett* 
 
 I remember well and cherish as one of the fine things 
 in my life, the friendly, unfailing interest in my first 
 poems of one who has gone before* 
 
 Still his lamp illumes the Way, 
 Still his voice sounds trumpet calls. 
 As in memory he returneth 
 And my soul with thought enthralls* 
 J922 
 
WAR AND PEACE 
 
THE RETURN OF THE YANKEE DIVISION 
 OVER HERE 
 
War and Peace ti 
 
 THE RETURN OF THE YANKEE DIVISION 
 
 By the rude bridge that arched the flood. 
 Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, 
 
 Here once the embattled farmers stood. 
 And fired the shot heard round the world. 
 
 — Emerson, 
 
 The Drums of War awake the land 
 
 And the rigfhteous wrath of the Nation falls, 
 While the faith of the men who held the bridge, 
 Now leads their sons to cross the seas, 
 Where Freedom^s battle trumpet calls. 
 
 At home, their Service Star of "Blue 
 
 Is hedged in glory on the window-pane. 
 And oft on vision^s magic screen, 
 They rise from trenched camps to charge 
 Through Hell of battle lines aflame* 
 
 Some live, and Service Stars look down 
 
 On hearts uplifted hopefully, 
 But some give all, and Glory turns 
 Their Stars of Blue to Stars of Gold, 
 
 To light the way to Victory* 
 
 They triumph on that distant bourne. 
 
 But Oh at home, with grateful hearts. 
 
 We long for their return* 
 The home fires burn, the feast is spread. 
 
 And chairs are set where wreaths are hung 
 
 For the living and the dead* 
 The portals of our hearts and homes 
 
 Are open wide, — Oh enter in! 
 
 April, m% 
 
J 2 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 OVER HERE 
 Tone of ** Scots Wha Hac ** 
 
 Yanks, who have for Freedom bled; 
 Yanks, whom General Edwards led, 
 Welcome to Old Boston's spread, — 
 Love and jobs galore* 
 
 Yanks, with Freedom for their slogan; 
 Yanks, who fought with Cole and Logan; 
 Well, you are Old Boston's vogue — an' 
 Loved for evermore* 
 
 April, J9J9. 
 
THE AFTERMATH OF WAR 
 PAEAN TO THE IMMORTALS 
 
Wat and Peace J5 
 
 THE AFTERMATH OF WAR 
 
 War is Sorrow, 
 
 But tjpon the glad tomorrow, 
 
 And 'tis waged for Freedom, 
 
 Comes this solace in the after years, 
 
 War is Sorrow 
 
 Crowned triumphant in her tears* 
 
 April, J9J9. 
 
J 6 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 PAEAN TO THE IMMORTALS 
 
 A Song of Triumph^ soul rejoicing, 
 
 Freemen's hearts forever send 
 Unto you beloved Immortals, 
 
 Sacrificed to life's great end* 
 Through you the heritage descendeth, 
 
 Born of some Indwelling Fire, 
 That lights the tablelands of Freedom, 
 
 Long the goal of man's desire* 
 On every tableland ascended 
 
 Still the Fire undying flamed. 
 With one clear thought his soul inspiring, 
 
 Freedom Greater must be gained* 
 Descending still through living: portals. 
 
 To our Freemen came the thought, 
 A Fiery Cross, with war-cry calling 
 
 Arm for Freedom, wait for nought; 
 On Flanders' Fields your Deathless Triumph 
 
 Gains for man the Freedom sought* 
 Then Sorrow in her silence weeping, 
 
 "With a glory now is crowned. 
 Where the ashes of our Freemen 
 
 Hallow there the sea and ground* 
 Immortals now in life's great story. 
 
 Stars of Gold and Victory, 
 Ever chanting of the Fields of Glory 
 
 And the Freedom that will be* 
 
 Then Hail! All Hail! Ye souls victorious, 
 Freedom claimed on land and sea, 
 
 Descending from your throng so glorious 
 Comes the song of times to be. 
 
 When War will cease and Man be free* 
 
 April, J9J9. 
 
THE VISION OF THE ARMISTICE— Sonnet U 
 THE GREATER SACRIFICE 
 
War and Peace J9 
 
 THE VISION OF THE ARMISTICE 
 
 My country is the Wotldt 
 
 My countrymen are all Mankind* 
 
 — GARRISON. 
 
 Inscription on his statue. 
 
 In monumental htonzc all eloquent 
 He wafts^ with patience infinite and strong, 
 Until the world of bells breaks into song 
 Of Peace and prophecy of that event 
 For which he lived and dicdf in God content. 
 And now his very statue midst the throng, 
 Harmonious like Memnon's at the dawn, 
 Inspiring speaks of mankind^s long ascent, 
 Reminding all that dire things pass away; 
 While through our tribulations from of old 
 There gleams the mighty vision of today. 
 Which dying eyes, beneath the Star of Gold 
 On Flanders' fields, beheld in glad array — 
 That Commonwealth of Nations he foretold. 
 
 Sonnet II, 
 July, J920, 
 
20 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 THE GREATER SACRIHCE 
 
 I sing of war scarred souls 
 Who wore the Star of Blue 
 
 "With sacrifice untold* 
 Death's alchemy ne'er turned 
 Their Service Star of Blue, 
 
 To Victor's Star of Gold* 
 
 And yet how glorious 
 Within their darkened sky, 
 
 A Heavenly Star shines forth, 
 Whenever wounded souls 
 The broken ends of life 
 
 Unite for greater worth* 
 * * ♦ * 
 
 O Stars of Blue, Ye fought for us, 
 O Stars of Gold, Ye died for us, 
 O Stars of Greater Sacrifice, 
 Ye lead us up to Calvary* 
 
 December, J92J. 
 
ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 Sonnet V 
 
War and Peace 23 
 
 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 The Voice of the People 
 
 Upheaved in solitude from common soil, 
 
 He rises through the rub of life, rough hewn, 
 
 The PeopIe^s Sinai* And with God in tune 
 
 He steadfast §fuides them, through war^s urge and toil, 
 
 To greater Freedom* On lifers peak, death*s coil 
 
 Twines round his mighty heart, alas too soon 
 
 In our poor fcen, as humbly at his tomb 
 
 We tread unshod and feel how death can foiL 
 
 The mausoleums and the monuments 
 
 Are so much dust within the tomb of time. 
 
 But he lives on in that immortal shrine. 
 
 The People's heart* And when great discontents. 
 
 And evils born of war, mislead the land. 
 
 He speaks and guides us, voicing God's command. 
 
 Sonnet V. 
 August, J920, 
 
SELF DETERMINATION 
 
 The cure for Freedom's ills 
 Is Freedom still. 
 
 — A thought of H. H. 
 
SLAVERY 
 LITHUANIA 
 
Self Determination 29 
 
 SLAVERY 
 
 If he b«t thinks, — 
 No man or race 
 Is half so poor 
 As he needs m«st be, 
 
 To be a slave* 
 
 May, J922* 
 
30 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 LITHUANIA 
 
 Hailt all hail to thee, O Lithuania ! 
 Risen from your bondage, standing free; 
 Now to its the Nordic homeland 
 
 Speaks again with mighty tongue, 
 That around her woodland altars 
 
 Freedom's song we learned and sung* 
 
 Years have passed in many thousands, 
 Feathers fallen from the wings of Time, 
 Strewn along historic highways. 
 
 Since with banners streaming, swords on high, 
 Freedom o*er them led us Westward 
 
 To the land for which we die* 
 
 There we sacrificed on Freedom's altar 
 All we lived and died for on the way. 
 Burning all in flaming ardor. 
 
 Till around the mighty pyre. 
 Struggling rose our great republic. 
 
 Freedom's answer to our song of fire* 
 
 Now the altar song of Arya, 
 Of the love of greater Freedom, 
 Breathes within our Magna Charta, 
 
 And it ringeth o'er us on the battle van: 
 Die for Freedom, 'tis the Deathless Triumph, 
 
 For it linketh God and man* 
 
 Far across the mighty waters 
 
 Rings our battlecry to thee. 
 Die for Freedom, Lithuania, 
 
 Only that will keep you free. 
 
 June, J920* 
 
THE EPITAPH 
 
 THE SHAMROCK 
 
 IN BUFF AND BLUE 
 
 THE TRIUMPH 
 
 ENGLAND 
 
Self Determination 33 
 
 THE EPITAPH 
 A Thermopylae of Freedom 
 
 Freedom^s tocsin^ with its stirring calls^ 
 Still vibrates on the morning: air; 
 
 And Tara^s harp through spirit halls, 
 Now throbs again in accent rare* 
 
 With moment tense of prayerful pause, 
 Hibernians children, as of yore, 
 
 Again in Freedom^s holy cause 
 Appear on battle fronts once more* 
 
 Far off in memory's distant reach 
 
 A form heroic ever stands, 
 Whose enrapt face and spirit speech 
 
 Proclaim again his last commands* 
 
 The vision shines in glory dear. 
 
 And listening souls are sorely smitten 
 
 With the message, ringing clear. 
 Now let my epitaph be written* 
 
 Oh Irishmen, be led by wisdom. 
 
 Nor with aught but justice ere conform; 
 It's your Thermopylae of Freedom, 
 
 And Emmet's spirit rides upon the storm* 
 
 And with Columbia as your guide. 
 In fearless, loving veneration 
 
 On his tomb ye shall inscribe, 
 Ireland's free and takes her stand 
 A Commonwealth and Nation* 
 
34 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 So shall his epitaph be written 
 And his spirit sink to rest^ 
 
 « * « « « 
 
 Then will the Harp^ in grand acclaim, 
 Triumphant sound, on that great day, 
 
 The ancient war cry of your name: 
 '^Fag an Bealac! Clear the way!'' 
 
 April, J9J9. 
 
Self Determination 35 
 
 THE SHAMROCK 
 
 A Song of Freedom 
 
 Oh^ it's long: the world has waited 
 Bttt the time has come full round, 
 
 And the Shamrock still is growing 
 On Hibernians ancient ground* 
 
 And from Tara's harp long silent 
 Comes a mighty sounding throb. 
 
 As the blood poured forth for Freedom 
 Calls to us from Erin's sod* 
 
 Coming down through all the ages 
 Deathless Triumph ever thrilled, 
 
 Erin's sons who died for Freedom, 
 Lofty souls with vows fulfilled* 
 
 But this mighty love of Freedom 
 
 Must by Freemen of today. 
 Be handed on a torch that burning 
 
 Lights the Triumph on the way* 
 
 Still in Freedom worth the having 
 Progress stopped oft leaps ahead. 
 
 Like the Phoenix from its ashes. 
 Rising glorious from the dead* 
 
 Now that moment flames in beauty 
 Freedom from the pyre light calls. 
 Sons of Erin, Sons of Erin, 
 
 Freemen stand or ye are thralls* 
 
 And the Shamrock, Erin's emblem. 
 Twines its roots round Irish hearts. 
 Where it grows and sings forever 
 
 Ireland free or life departs* 
 
 June, J9J9. 
 
36 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 IN BUFF AND BLUE 
 
 A Song from the Revolution 
 
 In the days of the Revolution 
 You were a Tory, tried and true, 
 
 While I was one of the men proscribed 
 Who wore the buff and blue* 
 
 We thought it out and fought it out, 
 But still for King were you; 
 
 While I still followed Washington, 
 And wore the buff and blue* 
 
 You went back to die in England, 
 Still a Tory, true and tried; 
 
 But I gave all in Freedom^s cause, 
 And so have never died* 
 
 And Erin now, in Freedom^s cause, 
 Your England questions once again; 
 
 And we say now, as we said then. 
 Stand fast for Freedom, Irishmen* 
 
 Now the old song^s ringing true — 
 We thought it out and fought it out, 
 
 But still for King are you; 
 While we still follow Washington, 
 
 And wear the buff and blue* 
 
 May, t920» 
 
Self Determination 37 
 
 THE TRIUMPH 
 
 So his epitaph is written 
 And his spirit sinks to rest. 
 
 Now Hibernians golden Harp chords 
 
 Vibrate in their glad acclaim, 
 Music out of tribulation, 
 
 Godward rising winged with flame, 
 As the Irish peopIe^s hand, 
 
 On the stone of Emmet's tomb, 
 Carves in Self Determination, 
 Ireland's free and takes her stand 
 A Commonwealth and Nation* 
 
 June, J922. 
 
38 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 ENGLAND 
 
 Ri§fht to do, come weal ot woe, 
 England's courage once again. 
 Stands the acid test of time, 
 As She in Self Determination 
 Lets the Irish people go* 
 
 July, J922, 
 
PORTRAITS 
 
THE NAME 
 THE HERITAGE 
 
Portraits 43 
 
 THE NAME 
 
 A faded card whose roses red^ 
 
 All dim with age, two verses frame, 
 
 That quaintly rest the one above, 
 The other 'neath, a woman's name^ 
 
 The name in old familiar script 
 Shines forth a golden chain to me, 
 
 Entwined within the verse refrain 
 She loved, ^^Sweet memories of thee*** 
 
 Beneath the rainbow of my tears 
 The roses bloom and scent the air. 
 
 And far off now her lullaby 
 
 I hear, surpassing sweet and fair* 
 
 Ah, how the primal love-call's thrill 
 Triumphant surges o*er all other. 
 
 Rising from your very dust, 
 My Mother, oh, my Mother! 
 
 December, J9J9. 
 
44 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 THE HERITAGE 
 
 In memory*s land of boyhood years 
 
 A lofty form I still behold, 
 "Whose manly sway and simple faith 
 
 Still cast the spell they did of old* 
 
 The mists of time hangf o'er the land 
 In trailing clouds arottnd his form, 
 
 Until his smile like sunshine comes 
 When lo, in that fair land 'tis morn. 
 
 The vision clears and now I see 
 A lofty form enshrined in death, 
 
 And on his face in shining calm 
 The glow of some immortal breath. 
 
 The watchers sleep within the gloom, 
 Where fearless, led by love forlorn, 
 
 A little lad beside the corse 
 
 Holds watch alone until the morn. 
 
 And there «pon the shining way 
 
 Which hedged about the sire and son. 
 The heritage was handed down: 
 
 Ah me, my Father's faith indeed. 
 Which I can only try to reach; 
 
 But still across the gulf of time 
 He leads me on with spirit speech* 
 
 April, J920, 
 
A PHYSIQAN— SONNET IV 
 THE fflGHLAND NURSE 
 
Portraits 47 
 
 A PHYSiaAN 
 
 The moment^s work well done self-crowns the Mount 
 
 Of years, raised bit by bit with deadening toil, 
 
 Upon whose Peak, arisen from the soil, 
 
 She views and measures justly things that count* 
 
 From work of years comes knowledge paramount, 
 
 Whose light dispels the wearying turmoil 
 
 Round the sick, beats out the subtle recoil 
 
 Of disease, and for hope finds some new fount* 
 
 O, beautiful her friendly spirit gleams, 
 
 A fair oasis on the sands of time. 
 
 And wisdom from its fount of reason streams. 
 
 Where souls, distracted by mirages, find 
 
 In joyous drafts, long visioned in their dreams, 
 
 An unexpected balm for hurts of mind* 
 
 Sonnet FV. 
 August, 1920. 
 
48 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 THE HIGHLAND NURSE 
 
 Just as the scent of the heather 
 
 Means Scotland forever 
 
 To you, My Dearie, 
 So the fragrance of your life endeavor 
 
 Means a joy forever 
 
 To us, My Dearie, 
 
 Oh, the hills are hard to climb 
 And keep the step in mind 
 
 Forever, Lassie; 
 But there^s a wreath for endless service borne 
 Unconquered lifts your head above the storm 
 
 For evermore. My Lassie, 
 
 High road or low, 'tis mostly bitter sweet; 
 And for all the trials met, sair I grete 
 
 For ye. My Dearie, 
 Still the fragrance of your life endeavor 
 
 Sweetens ours forever 
 
 And forever. Dearie, 
 
 May, J9J9. 
 
A CLERGYMAN 
 THE SOaOLOGIST 
 
Portraits 5j 
 
 A CLERGYMAN 
 
 He passed along my road in life, 
 A kindly, §:raciotJs presence, 
 Moving* as the Master moved 
 Along the old Judean roads 
 And on the Sea of Galilee* 
 Through the mantle of his clay 
 His soul shone forth to all, 
 A sacred fire in lamp of alabaster* 
 So I saw him, met him on the Way, 
 And evermore I follow after* 
 
 December, J9J9, 
 
52 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 THE SOaOLOGIST 
 
 Datk-haifed daughter of Minerva^ 
 
 Ever seeking: after truth, 
 She layeth all upon the altar, 
 
 Mind and body, strengfth and youth; 
 And from the ashes of her life endeavor 
 
 Nobler concepts of humanity and man 
 
 Shall, Phoenix-like, arise forever* 
 ♦ « ♦ • • 
 
 Hark! from out the flaming; pyre 
 Resounds the music grand 
 Of timers immortal choir* 
 
 August, J9J9. 
 
THE BIOLOGIST 
 A VIKING 
 
Portraits 55 
 
 THE BIOLOGIST 
 
 On timers horizon looms a fabled Peak^ 
 
 Where brave Prometheus, thoǤfh in chains and torn, 
 
 Defied the gfods and scorned their Vulture's beak* 
 
 And there, an uplift in the mind of man 
 
 Found voice, through living crucifixion born* 
 
 From circling torment roused to dreadful ire, 
 The Vulture strikes, the Titan's heart to gnaw; 
 But still unquenched flames some Indwelling Fire, 
 To stir his soul's defiance of the gods. 
 And his allegiance unto Truth through Law* 
 
 His voice still speaks inspiring unto him 
 
 Who tends an Altar where Truth's fire doth spread; 
 
 And there, before her awful Cherubim, 
 
 Forever seeks the mystery of life to glean 
 
 From all of life itself and from the dead* 
 
 To Truth a servant he has ever been 
 
 And loves her, though his soul is seared and scarred 
 
 By fiery lances from her Cherubim; 
 
 For wounds of Truth a healing wisdom have. 
 
 Which gives a greater strength to all that's marred* 
 
 His Peak of work is golden with the dawn. 
 Which great Prometheus ever prophesied; 
 When Zeus and all decadent gods forlorn 
 Would timely vanish from the ken of man. 
 And the God of Truth alone be deified* 
 
 March. J920* 
 
56 Poems of the Afteirmath 
 
 A VIKING 
 
 Amundsen 
 
 In my memory I behold him, 
 And I hear the words he said. 
 
 While Antarctic lights a-shining 
 Make a halo round his head* 
 
 Then the tide of time rolls backward. 
 
 And in vision clear to me 
 Gleams a fjord in land Norwegian, 
 
 Where he first put out to sea* 
 
 From that fjord, so runs the saga. 
 Vikings sailed o'er trackless seas. 
 
 Other lands to find and conquer. 
 Warriors only death could ease* 
 
 Then the tide of time sweeps forward, 
 And I see the gleaming sail 
 
 Of a Viking rushing Southward, 
 Where 'tis death to win or fail* 
 
 In the dread Antarctic Circle, 
 Still the Viking makes his way; 
 
 Till the ice-cap wall confronts him, 
 And the Norseman is at bay* 
 
Portraits 57 
 
 A VIKING 
 
 Overhead the sea-birds screaming^ 
 Sound a dirge upon the air^ 
 
 Chanting that all men before him 
 Failed or died in their despair* 
 
 Undismayed and ever Southward, 
 O'er the ice-cap to his goal. 
 
 On, the sledded Viking rushes. 
 Till at last he makes the Pole* 
 
 Just ahead of Death's grim shadow. 
 Homing swift the Viking Hies 
 
 To the Norseland, Skoal forever! 
 And a name that never dies. 
 
 February, J 920. 
 
SONNET— FELIX ARVERS— J833 
 IN FEUDAL TIMES 
 
Portraits 6i 
 
 SONNET OF FELIX ARVERS— ^833 
 
 From the French 
 The form and rhyme as in the original 
 
 My sotti its secret has, my life its mystery — 
 A love eternal in a moment springfs aglow, 
 Whose hopeless pain I bear forever silently, 
 For she, who lit the torch of love, will never know* 
 
 Alas! that near her unperceived, I gladly go 
 Beside her always, yet alone eternally* 
 And this through life I must endure, though willingly, 
 Not daring love to ask, for none she deigns to show* 
 
 For she, though God has made her lovely and tender, 
 Goes her way nor heeds or hears, nor will remember 
 This murmur of a love, her very steps command* 
 
 And piously faithful in austere life's duty, 
 
 She will say to these lines, all filled with her beauty, 
 
 ^^Who can this woman he}** and never understand* 
 
 March, J92J, 
 
62 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 IN FEUDAL TIMES 
 
 Stifs the dust 
 
 Of a Knight of Old, 
 
 To blossom fare 
 
 In a Christmas Missive 
 
 To his Lady Fair, 
 
 Merie Cristmast Lefdye dete — 
 
 Loral wrethen evere f ayre. 
 All in lyf to me is vayn 
 Saf the Dragouns by me slayn, 
 
 Whan your glofe my helm yt bare. 
 
 Stede and sadel^ glofe on helme, 
 
 Visere down with sweord and spere, 
 Dragouns flee whan I be nere, 
 
 And Love is Quene on alle the realme* 
 
 Then the letters, dim with age, 
 Glow and gild the dusty page, 
 And the Knight of Feudal times 
 Speaks, as ring the Christmas chimes, — 
 
 So the Love, that thoht of yow hath wonne 
 I senden to myn Lefdye dere. 
 For Cristmas and all aefter yeere. 
 
 Christmas, J 92 J. 
 
 k 
 
ROBERT BURNS 
 
 GEORGE THE GOOD 
 
 THE LEADER OF THE LOST BATTALION 
 
Portraits 65 
 
 ROBERT BURNS 
 
 THE STATUE IN THE FENS 
 
 Hare and Mouse and Floweret braw. 
 Mutely singings blithesome a,\ 
 Halleluiah! Halleluiah! 
 Bobbie Burns no far awa^ 
 
 He stands where o'er the banks and braes, 
 Along a bonie winding: stream, 
 
 He looks afar, wi' staff an' dog, 
 And O, sae braw an' human a'. 
 
 That there I gladly sit me doon 
 And ken that he's no far awa'» 
 
 Ah, darlin' Shepherd o' our hearts, 
 Nae mair ye'II gic us o' yottr sang, 
 
 Nae mair ye'II ever need to gie — 
 For ye sae aft wi' loe in tune, 
 
 Hae struck the chords o' smiles an' tears. 
 There's naething mair e'en frae abune* 
 
 And now you're bonie mang my tears. 
 While aft ye fill me fu' o' joy; 
 
 But maist I loe a Man's a Man, 
 And feel a' life should sacred be; 
 
 Frae a' o' which an' Auld Lang Syne, 
 I ken ye werena born to dee* 
 
 October, I92L 
 
66 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 GEORGE THE GOOD 
 
 Search far and wide 
 
 Through Royal England^s kingly line, 
 
 To find that Alfred, called the great. 
 
 And George of our day, called the good, 
 
 Kings both, by God's grace, for the people are, 
 
 And so will ere abide, 
 
 July, J922. 
 
Portraits 67 
 
 THE LEADER OF THE LOST BATTALION 
 
 Alas that his great heart, victorious on the battle fields, 
 O^erwhelired by sorrow, to the aftermath of war now 
 
 yields 
 And sinks, beneath a load too great, in his untimely 
 
 grave. 
 While the Ocean mournful chants the requiem of the 
 
 brave* 
 It was but yesterday, when proudly o'er the Nation's 
 
 face 
 A grim smile fleeting passed, and in his glory shone 
 
 the Race* 
 Ah, Whittlesey, we^II ne'er forget the glorious Argonne, 
 Where you and all your Lost Battalion ever carry on. 
 And answer like the noble Spartans to the Persian's 
 
 call. 
 Go to Hell with those who sent you, here we stand or 
 
 here we fall* 
 O, leader of the Lost Battalion wheresoe'er ye be. 
 When Freedom's trumpet calls to you, entombed within 
 
 the Sea, 
 You'll roll the Ocean flood-gates back and rising lead 
 
 us on. 
 As you did within the forest of the dread Argonne* 
 
 September, J 922* 
 
MEDITATIONS 
 
THE PILGRIM 
 
 AND 
 
 THE HEAVENWARD WAY 
 
Meditations 73 
 
 THE PILGRIM 
 
 To the Pilgfim on the Way, 
 It seems as clear as day — 
 The tide doth rise, or it doth fall, 
 
 To its — in us, 
 
 As we — in God^ 
 
 The shadows of eternal Truth 
 To him are filled with Ii§:ht, 
 
 And so he moves along the Way 
 And through the portals of the tomb 
 
 To Endless Day* 
 
 J9J94920. 
 
74 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 THE HEAVENWARD WAY 
 
 In the darkness of the primal ages, 
 
 Dim as light foretelling day, 
 The Harbinger of spirit life, 
 Casts only faint illumed shadow 
 
 Of the coming Heavenward Way* 
 
 On creation^s wings It rises, 
 In the urge of law and plan. 
 
 To flame at last a Peak of thought; 
 
 And the Way is heralded 
 In the mind of ancient man* 
 
 Fruitage of the dust begotten 
 
 Flames the thought with spirit-light. 
 Acclaiming Virtue comes in moments. 
 Gleaming through the Veil of Vice 
 
 Inspiring Stars of Evil^s night* 
 
 Through cycles of despairing years. 
 
 The Peak still throws its flaming rays 
 Amidst the storming clouds of doubt. 
 And dimly now the Way is seen 
 In minds of men of those dark days* 
 
 Again the darkening Veil is rent. 
 
 And singing of the dawn to them 
 A Star of morning lights the Way, 
 And leads the thought to spirit life 
 Beneath the Star at Bethlehem* 
 
Meditations 75 
 
 THE HEAVENWARD WAY 
 
 In the accent of the Life Divine^ 
 
 Fulfilled upon the cross in old Judea, 
 
 Only fleeing shadows trace the Veil; 
 
 And Virtue^s merging moments 
 Spirit-winged and flaming clear^ 
 
 Reveal the Heavenward Way 
 In life of every sphere* 
 
 * * * « * 
 
 And now the thought, still rising Godward, 
 
 Leads the Pilgrim, day by day, 
 Through the Vale of light and shadow 
 To the House of many mansions. 
 In whose Glory ends the Way* 
 
 J9J9-J922. 
 
THE BAD ANGEL 
 
 THE GOOD ANGEL 
 
 AND 
 
 THE JUDGMENT 
 
78 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 THE BAD ANGEL j 
 
 You speak, •! 
 
 And music fills my longing: heart, 
 
 As the trancing Siren's song with its mad refrain, 
 
 Floating o*er the languorous waters and the rocks of 
 death, 
 
 Fills the Sailor's heart with seeds of doom* j 
 
 So with lure of life all self-indulgence, 
 You corrupt, and Hope lies slain* 
 
 October, J92I. 
 
Meditations 79 
 
 THE GOOD ANGEL 
 
 You speak, 
 
 And music stirs my famished heart, 
 
 As the slogan of the Clan upon the hills at dawn, 
 
 Rising" o^er a glow of tartans and the skirl of pipes, 
 
 Stirs hearts of Kin in their beleaguered city* 
 
 So the siege of things corrupt in life. 
 
 You raise, and Hope's reborn* 
 
 October, J92K 
 
80 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 THE JUDGMENT 
 
 With those of old the saying ran, 
 That in the mind of every man 
 Two Angfels strive, to rttle who can* 
 And oft an Angel, good and grand, 
 Victorious reigns in that fair land; 
 While quite too oft, with evil damned. 
 An Angel bad doth gain command* 
 
 And battles there are lost and won. 
 Till Death he taps his awful Drum, 
 With final victor known to none* 
 Though Sages old writ far and wide 
 About a Court where Gods preside. 
 Who will the question there decide, 
 When man has crossed the Great Divide* 
 
 But there's a Court which sits for aye, 
 To mete out justice, low and high; 
 Where the Angels, striving for command. 
 Are thoughts and acts both slight and grand. 
 Whose roots, entwined in life's great plan. 
 Reach up from star-dust unto man* 
 
 And the greatest Sage hath said 
 That the dead shall bury their dead. 
 And there is no Great Divide* 
 Then man will reach the other side. 
 Where thoughts and acts forever stand. 
 With the writ of judgment in his hand* 
 
 Februaryt J920* 
 
THE SONG OF HOPE 
 THE DARK HOUR 
 
Meditations 83 
 
 THE SONG OF HOPE 
 
 Remember me, Hope always sings^ 
 
 Or evermore regret — 
 And rising from the legion of the damned^ 
 Who Hope have lost or thrown away, 
 Forever sounds the mad refrain, 
 
 Man never should forget, 
 Wrung from their poor distracted souls. 
 
 Remember or regrets 
 
 July, J922, 
 
84 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 THE DARK HOUR 
 
 When to the star-dust I return 
 To be reanimated once agfain, 
 Oh let my ashes fall with joy 
 From some beloved gfentle hand: 
 And all the benediction which I crave 
 Is that I trace amidst the elements, 
 In letters fair, he was *^The shadow 
 Of a great rock in a weary land^^ 
 
 August, J922, 
 
THE LARGER HOPE 
 IMMORTELLES 
 
i 
 
Meditations 67 
 
 THE LARGER HOPE 
 
 We slowly grasp the larger hope 
 
 By Prophet told and Poet sung 
 
 And from Manfcind^s experience wrung — 
 
 That Heaven is not a place in space and time 
 
 But a Condition is, where souls in rhyme 
 
 Communion hold with God and man, 
 
 In every tongue and every clime^ 
 
 The many wrongs, the great despair of right, 
 
 Make Hell a Heaven-obscured condition here^ 
 
 He died upon the cross to crucify that fear; 
 
 Since then, the Way to Heaven is told in all the tongues* 
 
 In sacrificial moments our Communion comes, 
 
 Alas, with eyes that cannot bear the light, 
 
 We yet must crucify our holy ones* 
 
 May, J92J. 
 
88 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 IMMORTELLES 
 
 Ah^ not alone on battlefields 
 
 Does Deathless Triumph come to man; 
 
 It §:Ieams wherever life is untoward, 
 And self upon a cross is sacrificed 
 
 To lift one soul who 's helpless to reward* 
 
 These sacrificial moments come to all, 
 And, garnered in the sheaf of Time, 
 
 Are mighty seeds quite hid in earthy shells; 
 Which, falling: blessed in some Elysian field. 
 
 Will blossom Immortelles* 
 
 June, J920. 
 
 i 
 
MADONNA AND CHILD 
 
i 
 
Meditations 9t 
 
 MADONNA AND CHILD 
 Fra Filippo Lippi 
 
 Divine content, cherubic charm, 
 
 A halo gleam of spirit-flame; 
 The Mother-song's triumphant call — 
 I am the Everlasting Gate 
 
 Through which the Lord Christ came. 
 
 June, J920* 
 
THE ROCK OF FAITH 
 
 AND 
 
 BETHLEHEM 
 
i 
 
Meditations 95 
 
 THE ROCK OF FAITH 
 
 Some Undying: Imptilse stirs the clod 
 
 And, emerging from his earthly chrysalis, 
 
 Man slowly rises on the wings of thought 
 
 To find the fount of Truth eterne* 
 
 In wandering flight by instinct oft misled, 
 
 Hope thrilling calls from out the realm of laws 
 
 Arise! Arise! and seek creation^s cause* 
 
 With sweep of mighty wing in that great realm, 
 
 He mounts to gain upon its awful heights. 
 
 Or sinks to find within its depths profound. 
 
 Some inkling of the Truth, perchance new-born. 
 
 Or catch some glimmer of eternal dawn* 
 
 At last Hope^s call from spire of highest peak, 
 
 Resounding in the deep of greatest depth. 
 
 Is lost within the Voice of all creation. 
 
 Ever chanting midst the changing spheres, 
 
 Unto man one harmony of law appears* 
 
 The song of elements in threads ethereal. 
 
 That all-sufficient in the loom of time. 
 
 Combine to weave man's shroud of clod 
 
 And form the mantle of the living God* 
 
 He who stirs the clod to life and thought. 
 
 And is, as far as man hath understood. 
 
 The Only one Undying Impulse, 
 Ever making for creation's good* 
 
 September, J92J* 
 
96 Poems of the Aftetmath 
 
 BETHLEHEM 
 
 He rests so shining calm 
 Within the man§:eft 
 Where the shadow makes a Cross, 
 While the Starry Choir 
 To shepherds sing, 
 *Teace on earth, 
 Good will to men*^ 
 
 Christmas, J92J. 
 
 I 
 
NATURE 
 
CROW POINT 
 
 AND 
 
 THE GOLDEN ARGOSY— SONNET III 
 
Nature tOi 
 
 CROW POINT 
 
 On the htim of Hmgham's lovely harbor, 
 Where the shores are wooded hills of gfreen. 
 
 There's a quid nook just off the sea, 
 With a garden old, all blossom starred, 
 
 Where the evergreens keep watch for me« 
 
 And the year is at the Springtime there. 
 And the birds are calling. May is here. 
 
 While the great sea-tide at flood serene. 
 Has its moments now when it rests within 
 
 The enchanted shores of living green* 
 
 Where the shore's overspread, 'neath a mirrored sky, 
 By a tide illumed with tints of blue. 
 
 Oh 'tis lovely there, when across its sheen 
 Two enchanting boats pass wing and wing. 
 
 With their sailors spell-bound by the scene* 
 
 Now the balmy zephyrs waft them on. 
 And their sails in endless silver layers. 
 
 Are the gleams within the tide of blue. 
 Where the shadow-lances, cast by masts, 
 
 In their linear beauty pierce them through* 
 
J02 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 CROW POINT 
 
 When aslant they sail the distant flood 
 With their sails aflashing o^er the tide, 
 
 Oh it^s then that a tree-top minaret, 
 To a haunting melody is swayed, 
 
 When the bluebird calls, O it^s Springtime yet* 
 
 Broken is the spell, its bonds we sever. 
 When aglowing in the dusky West, 
 
 Evening's candle, clear and bright as ever, 
 Lights the parting Day to rest* 
 
 Homing birds set all the air a-quiver. 
 
 And the fire-flies flash their unseen flight. 
 
 While the fading shore and twilight glimmer 
 Merge in darkness, and 'tis Night. 
 
 May, \9\% 
 
Nature J 03 
 
 THE GOLDEN ARGOSY 
 
 In the mind's unfathomed deep, still the voice 
 Of Hope is heard, echoing evermore 
 In song: divine, from Fancy's harbor shore; 
 
 Inspiring: thought, which makes the heart rejoice. 
 
 That in Life's grinding round, so brief in joys. 
 So oft despairing, with of faith no store. 
 Angelic moments come, to tide us o'er 
 
 The Evil shoal which hinders or destroys* 
 
 On Life's Sea in stormy-hours, near and far 
 
 Their watch cries out, their bells all golden chime. 
 
 To board their Argosy and o'er the bar. 
 Triumphant on the conquering tide of time. 
 
 We'll pass the harbor floodgate's awful Star, 
 And make with joy the Port we sail to find* 
 
 Sonnet IIL 
 July, 1920. 
 
THE BORDERLAJNTD 
 THE WINDING STREAM 
 
Nature t07 
 
 THE BORDERLAND 
 
 Bttt look, the gffass all gflimmering gfteen 
 In mingling beattty now is seen; 
 
 Where Winter, loth to go. 
 Has spread beneath the budding trees 
 
 His carpet thin of melting snow^ 
 
 April, J920. 
 
JOS Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 THE WINDING STREAM 
 
 Oft when Fm enslaved by toil and ma% 
 And rise to freedom in the realm of mind, 
 Oh sweet, the memory of a winding: stream 
 Flows gently through that dear enchanted land, 
 In all the beauty of a trancing dream^ 
 
 Night passes and the dawn-light, russet gold. 
 Falls softly o^er the Fens, while in the East, 
 The waning lamp of morn goes out unseen. 
 And yonder in the meadows green and fair, 
 A streak of fluid silver, flows the stream* 
 
 A twisting silvern thread of joy it winds. 
 All margined now by flowering meadow-land. 
 And now, by grassy banks where trees abound. 
 Whose thirsty roots return the patient stream 
 A grateful shade, the blessing from the ground* 
 
 All glorious within its infinite calm. 
 The stream reveals the open gates of morn. 
 Where now, the rising orb of life and day 
 In splendor comes, to Nature^s chant of joy. 
 All mirrored in the bending silver way* 
 
 Nearby, above the tree-tops^ leafy screen. 
 Fair shrines of art and learning gem the sky. 
 While yonder, where the silvery waters gleam. 
 They're caught within reflection's magic spell. 
 And bound in all their beauty 'neath the stream* 
 
Nature J09 
 
 THE WINDING STREAM 
 
 The noontime slowly flies on leaden wingfs, 
 And now the lengthening shadows softly creep^ 
 Poor m«te recorders of the flight of time, 
 To drown alas, where trancing sedges call, 
 Green sirens masking oVr the water line* 
 
 Time hastens and above the dark green hills, 
 The gathered banners of departing day 
 Flame out afar in colors all untold, 
 And in their wizardry, the silvern thread 
 Becomes a ribbon now of cloth of gold* 
 
 Refreshing airs of evening's advent tell. 
 As in the dusky glory of the West 
 Diana's slender bow of gold hangs bright, 
 While Night, all fragrant in her sable veil. 
 Enfolds the meadows and the stream from sight* 
 * * * « « 
 
 All is dark, save where the city lights 
 
 Begem the sable veil of night* 
 And musing now the thought unbidden comes. 
 That here within the city's dusty heart. 
 
 This winding stream of beauty flows. 
 And gives as contribution unto life. 
 
 Quite all it has and all it knows* 
 
 April, J920* 
 
BEAUTY— SONNET I 
 THE TRYST 
 
Nature U3 
 
 BEAUTY 
 
 A sea ethereal, divinely blue, 
 Whose clouds in silken masses, snowy white, 
 Are Blessed Isles : they glow with trancing light 
 From Dianas orb, as she soars stately through 
 The sapphire sea, their harbor shores to view* 
 Where now, by star-strewn coasts enticing bright, 
 She sinks, eclipsed by Isles in pure delight, 
 To rise and glorify the heavens anew* 
 Above, overhang the moon-lit Sea and Isles, 
 Below, where evergreens all silvered tower, 
 A primrose white and fair, the soul beguiles 
 As distant bells intone the golden hour; 
 Recalling moments on lifers weary miles. 
 When Beauty seems of God, the very flower* 
 
 Sonnet L 
 
 July, 1920. 
 
 Moonlight at Crow Point* 
 
ti4 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 THE TRYST 
 
 He whistles softly 
 
 In despair^ 
 A call from Love's own tune, 
 
 While loitering there 
 
 So ill at ease; 
 When Heaven opes 
 
 And there she comes 
 As lovely as the new-moon 
 
 Seen through trees* 
 
 September, J92J. 
 
THE FIR TREE AND THE PALM 
 
Nature tt7 
 
 THE FIR TREE AND THE PALM 
 
 HEINE 
 From the German 
 
 A Fif tree stands in the Northernland 
 
 Alone on a barren height* 
 And the icy snows spread oVr his sleep 
 
 A clinging: fleece of white* 
 
 Forever he dreams of a lonely Palm 
 
 That far in the Morningland, 
 On the scorching rocks of the desert marge, 
 
 In silent grief doth stand* 
 
 January, J92L 
 
nS Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 THE nR TREE AND THE PALM 
 
 A SONG 
 After Heine 
 
 In the Northland stands a Fir tree^ 
 
 Lonely on a barren height* 
 O^er his sleep the icy snow-storms 
 
 Fling* a fleecy robe of white* 
 
 In his dream-life stands a Palm tree 
 
 That afar in Morningland, 
 Lonely mourns ttpon the margin 
 
 Of the desert's burning sand* 
 
 Janttary, J 92 J. 
 
THE RUNE 
 A TOUCH OF NATURE 
 
Nature J2J 
 
 THE RUNE 
 
 In linear beattty 'gainst the Autumn sky 
 
 The wind-swept trees, along the landward crest, 
 
 Overlook an ancient farmhold grimly set 
 
 Where rock-ribbed shore throws back the angry sea* 
 
 Weirdly they moan above their dear dead leaves 
 Whose scurrying heaps, wind winnowed oVr the soil, 
 Decay at last above the garden plots 
 That flowers may come to gladden hearts in Spring* 
 
 And so through Life this Rune doth run. 
 Decay goes on from sun to sun. 
 While through the seasons* calm and storm 
 Death's blanket warms the newly born* 
 
 January, J92J, 
 
J22 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 A TOUCH OF NATURE 
 
 A bitte-gfowned elf is little Phyllis 
 
 As on tiny twinkling: feet 
 Up the bank she scampers to me^ 
 Reaching arms my knees to greet, 
 Escaping there, pursuing playmates, 
 With her little heart a-brimming 
 
 Full of recognition sweets 
 
 Then companionship in full unites me 
 
 With a tree in memory blent, 
 Where, a-glimmering down the gray, 
 A bluebird ^scapes the hawk*s intent, 
 A-nestling down among the branches. 
 With its little heart a-beating 
 In the rhythm of content* 
 
 May, J92J. 
 
THE SUN WORSHIPPERS 
 
 SUNSET 
 
Natttfe J25 
 
 THE SUN WORSHIPPERS 
 
 A woodland temple open to the East, 
 And gathered there the Priesthood of a princely race, 
 
 Who, in the h«sh of darkest night, 
 Wait to see the living God, face to face^ 
 
 * « « « « 
 
 The darkness lifts and gentle Dawn, 
 The Vestal Virgin of approaching Day, 
 Comes blushing o'er the hills and sea* 
 And now within the eastern Heaven, 
 Behold, the golden lamp of Morn 
 Becomes a far-off pallid flame. 
 To dwindle and go out unseen 
 When, from his glorious abyss. 
 The living Lord of life and day. 
 In robes of purple gold, comes forth. 
 And all the host bend the knee* 
 
 * « * * ♦ 
 
 The temple and the priests long since are dust — 
 While knowledge, greater far than priests ere knew. 
 Lights up the long ascent till on the heights, 
 Man seemingly has gained a nobler view* 
 But dawn-light still foretells the coming day 
 And sun-rise makes a Heaven of land and sea. 
 While man, in their infinity sees God, 
 And like the priests of old, bends the knee* 
 
 September, J92J, 
 
J 26 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 SUNSET 
 
 The sunset light-waves, 
 
 Breaking purple-gold, 
 Are but the light-waves of the dawn, 
 
 Other eyes behold, 
 Further round this earthen sphere^ 
 And on the circling rims 
 
 Of these great earthen planes, 
 Whose glad affinity 
 
 This flattened sphere maintains, 
 We conscious live and know them all 
 
 As time-space shores, now dark, now bright. 
 Within the universe^s greater planes; 
 
 Whereon the ceaseless waves of light 
 And sea ethereal, forever break 
 In all the gamut of the elemental force* 
 
 And the emanating glory crowning all, 
 Rises from the burning core of thought. 
 Revealing this unto the mind of man. 
 To lead him through infinity to God* 
 
 June, J922. 
 
FORSYTHIA 
 THE YELLOW PRIMROSE 
 
Natare J29 
 
 FORSYTHIA 
 
 I crossed the bridge to where forsaken 
 Stretched the Meadow somber, drear; 
 CI«mps of bushes far and near. 
 
 Seem withered sticks by death overtaken* 
 
 Winter now in flight reluctant 
 Flings, as legacy of spite, 
 A fleecy veil of melting white, 
 
 To chill the joy of Spring exultant* 
 
 But the night brings gentle showers 
 Till the dawn, all warm desire. 
 Floods the field with golden fire, 
 
 Gliding distant spires and towers* 
 
 And the bushes now are burning 
 As upon the sacred Mount, 
 While from showers as their fount, 
 
 Withered sticks are blossoms turning* 
 * * * * * 
 
 So in times all dark with fears. 
 
 What is beautiful in life. 
 
 Oft springs up through dreary strife. 
 To blossom when bedewed by tears* 
 
 October, 192U 
 
J 30 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 THE YELLOW PRIMROSE 
 
 A primrose by a river^s brim 
 A yellow primrose was to him, 
 And it was nothing more. 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 But the floweret by the shore^ 
 Smiles and gently tells of him, 
 That in his darkness there's a glim 
 
 Where the rose is something more* 
 
 Oh the earth was lonely there, 
 Stupid, dark and so forlorn. 
 That gave me birth on one glad morn. 
 
 To grow in all my beauty rare* 
 
 Yet was I in earth wind sown. 
 
 And in the seed from which I sprung, 
 Was all my beauty there unsung. 
 
 Entombed within the clod unknown* 
 
 And perchance will come a day, 
 O Poet of the rose and river's brim. 
 When even from his tomb so dim. 
 
 Will the stone be rolled away* 
 
 January, 1922, 
 
THE SONG OF THE HOMING FISHERMEN 
 COMPANIONSHIP 
 
Nature J33 
 
 THE SONG OF THE HOMING FISHERMEN 
 
 In the glorious \stgc of sunrise skies, 
 
 Oft I sense a touch of desolation* 
 
 But beneath a kindred sky, once I heard 
 
 The rollicking songf of homing fishermen 
 
 Give the needed note to the music of creation* 
 
 Oh life is great and troubles o'er, 
 
 When homeward bound we reach the shore, 
 
 With our haul of fish 
 
 From the brine — O, ho. 
 
 The brine — O, the brine — O* 
 We^I fill the dish of wife and kids 
 And sell the rest to shift our quids. 
 
 And salt in the bank 
 
 All the rhino— O, 
 
 The rhino, the rhino* 
 Heave her to, my hearties, O, 
 She's taut above and dry below. 
 
 In the rising sun 
 
 The port's aglow. 
 And wives and kiddies waving run. 
 To welcome us to Kingdom Come* 
 
 And the winds may blow, 
 
 My hearties, O, 
 We're home at last, Yoho, Yoho* 
 ***** 
 
 You smile at the fishermen's homing song. 
 But the beauties of Nature all massed in one. 
 Lack all, till man doth come* 
 
 September, J 92 J* 
 
J 34 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 COMPANIONSHIP 
 
 My Grandmother said. 
 
 Dear old Lady, she^s long since dead, 
 ** That shooting stars are chariots of iiie 
 Bearing souls on their way to Heaven ; ^ 
 
 And I believe what she said. 
 
 In the evening's golden silence 
 
 All enrapt I standi 
 While through a sacred grove of evergreens^ 
 
 Emblazoning the tawny sapphire of the sky> 
 Diana's slender bow of gold passing, gleams 
 
 As murmurings from the Morning-land 
 Whisper glad tidings and we meet again. 
 
 Old in years are we and the Dark-hour 
 Casts its lengthening shadow o'er our brows; 
 
 But still the golden moments come 
 When the years fall off, the flesh sublimes 
 
 And all I seem to feel or know, 
 Is that we are two souls coursing Heavenward, 
 
 Borne on twin shooting stars 
 Adown the lanes of Morning-land 
 
 To our beloved Nirvana, 
 
 September, J 922, 
 
GRIP AND GOBLIN 
 
i 
 
Nature 137 
 
 GRIP AND GOBLIN 
 
 Awaking* once within my chamber dim^ 
 As the shadows lifting let the light creep in, 
 At the witching hour 'twixt night and morn, 
 
 I beheld a Goblin black; 
 
 But *twas only my pet cat 
 
 Perched intent and Oh, so still, 
 
 Looking from his well-Ioved level 
 
 Of the casement window silL 
 At the tracery of trees and rocks. 
 That 'gainst the sky overlooks a loved lagoon, 
 
 Goblin ga^ed with that intentness, 
 
 Which is far-off kin to thought* 
 
 A well-known call and round he turned. 
 
 And down he condescending came, 
 
 A very knowing sable cat 
 
 With joyful eyes of topaz-flame* 
 In soft and purring speech, ^^Good morn,*' he said. 
 And then, *^Why linger ye so long in bed ?'' 
 While I, replying, stroked his arching back, 
 Till tantalizing down the stairs he fled* 
 
 But 'neath the home-light's evening glow. 
 
 When we have gathered round the table, 
 
 Then in all that's going on. 
 
 Be sure my little friend in sable. 
 
 Takes a hand and fills a gap 
 
 The which, none else is ever able* 
 
J 38 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 GRIP AND GOBLIN 
 
 Oft when doing stttnts that I have tattght him, 
 Comes a trick of turn and glance of eye, 
 Which wipe away the years, long since gone by, 
 And quite distinct and Oh, how clear. 
 Through the sheen of memory^s tears. 
 Again I see, again I hear 
 My silver-white bull terrier. 
 Who's dead and gone these many years* 
 Grip by name he was and nature too. 
 Ah ! 'tis dogs like him I wish you knew. 
 And though a mighty battler for his right. 
 No heart was ever fonder or more true* 
 And so to children one and all. 
 He was ever guide and friend, 
 A very dove for gentleness 
 And like a lion to defend* 
 Ah I how his memory warms the heart. 
 And how the life stream swifter flows. 
 Whene'er his loving, roguish face. 
 From out the past, so friendly glows* 
 And oftentimes, it seems quite clear. 
 He looks not from the days gone by. 
 But somewhere, on ahead of me. 
 Looks back and waits so patiently* 
 
 I 
 
Nature J 39 
 
 GRIP AND GOBLIN 
 
 Goblin stjrely taught me more than little, 
 And from Grip indeed, much knowledge spread 
 Bttt Goblin dear was only my pet cat, 
 While Grip whose faults were slight, or none at 
 
 And who gave his love forever. 
 
 Was only my old loving friend. 
 
 My silver-white bull terrier^ 
 Now in time, and on old Charon^s boat, 
 I, like all, must cross the river Styx; 
 
 And if, upon the further bank, 
 I hear a gladsome bark. 
 
 While, forward of the pushing prow, 
 I hear a faint meow. 
 
 And catch a gleam of silver-white 
 Near lights of topaz-flame, 
 
 FII surely know we're homeward bound. 
 
 And oVr the whelming flood so vast. 
 
 We'll make the Home Port safe at last^ 
 
 July, J9J9. 
 
BERMUDA 
 
 AND 
 
 THE FLEECE OF GOLD— SONNET VI 
 
Nature H3 
 
 BERMUDA 
 
 Canto I 
 
 Oh, trancing: isles of old Bermudat 
 Gardens, time has salvaged from the sea^ 
 When Memory^s magic-lamp is lighted, 
 All your loveliness comes back to tnc* 
 
 Dear Fairyland of Shakespeare^s fancy, 
 Tempest, sea and yellow sands. 
 With caves mysterious, sea-life wondrous, 
 Visioned when the Lamp commands* 
 
 The Lamp is lit. 
 The moment's here. 
 And in the light 
 The Isles appear* 
 
 Thy turquoise seas again we're sailing. 
 
 Argonauts with Pilot bold. 
 Who casts a spell that quite enthralls us 
 
 As he spins his yarns of gold, 
 A-weaving legend, song and story 
 
 Of the days long since gone by. 
 When bays were haunts of grim marauders 
 
 And adventure's tide ran high* 
 We sail through sounds for shores enticing 
 
 Till we reach a bridge of old. 
 Whereat our Pilot on his conch-shell 
 
 Blows like Triton and behold. 
 The drawbridge trembling lifteth o'er us 
 
 And we ga^e on hillsides green. 
 Where coral houses, island carvings. 
 
 In the distance temples seem* 
 
J 44 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 BERMUDA 
 
 Canto I 
 
 Far off a hedge of oleander 
 
 Crests a gentle curve of hills. 
 Whose air-borne fragrance v/afted to us 
 
 All our senses subtly thrills* 
 The Fleece of Gold we longing seek for 
 
 Pirates hid, the old tales say, 
 And sailing back in flaming ardor 
 
 Haunts we reach on Riddle's Bay* 
 
 All there is quiet now, 
 And Pirates grim 
 Long since are mold. 
 Whence Beauty springs 
 In earthly charm 
 Of lilies* white and gold. 
 While through the trees 
 A bluebird wings* 
 
 In silence now the balmy zephyrs 
 
 Waft us to a neighboring shore. 
 Where ancient Spithead, trancing tavern. 
 
 Casts its spell and opes its door* 
 Our Host, an exile from Kentucky, 
 
 Lonely for the folks at home. 
 Delighted leads us o'er the tavern 
 
 From foundation to the dome* ( 
 
 In one quaint room a rare piano. 
 
 Relic of the bygone years. 
 Whose music with our songs of Dixie 
 
 Touched the chords of smiles and tears* 
 
Nattfte J 45 
 
 BERMUDA 
 
 Canto I 
 
 Then straight a feast is spread before us, 
 
 Noble crayfish, viands rare, 
 And days of glory now returning 
 
 Make old Spithead very fair* 
 At last our boat with lifted pinions 
 
 Bears us from that tavern old, 
 The while all sing. Farewell Forever, 
 
 Feeling friendship outweighs gold* 
 We cross a turquoise sea resplendent 
 
 With its waves all flecked with green. 
 To where a port in Fairyland 
 
 Is home and Paradise, I ween* 
 And there we rest till day is dawning. 
 
 Then beneath the crystal brine 
 We plunge to reappear all famished. 
 
 Break our fast, and then recline 
 Until our Pilot makes the harbor. 
 
 Moors his boat and blows his shelL 
 We greet him with our salutation 
 
 And his cry is, **AII is welL^ 
 We dauntless make oVr sea crests foaming 
 
 Ports recalling Saints of old, — 
 Saint George, Saint David, blessed islands, 
 
 Where might be the Fleece of Gold* 
 Saint George^s gardens quaint and lovely 
 
 And the ancient Inn that's there. 
 Where Falstaff and Prince Hal might tarry. 
 
 Drinking sack with wit to spare* 
 You shake your head, but still this tavern 
 
 Seems like those that Shakespeare knew* 
 Remembered well is David's island. 
 
 Where the coral was on view, — 
 
J 46 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 BERMUDA 
 
 Canto I 
 
 The larger masses, quoth the vendor, 
 
 Male, and like the brain of man ; 
 The small are female, brain of woman. 
 
 Then he smiles — like Caliban^ 
 The lofty cliffs of outer islands 
 
 Beckon to us o*er and o*er. 
 But time for us is ever wingingf 
 
 And of them we see no more* 
 As home to Fairyland we*re sailing 
 
 O'er a glassy sea we drift. 
 And, gating in its crystal mirror. 
 
 Watch the sea-life change and shift, 
 "When coursing from this ocean garden 
 
 On our way to Fairyland, 
 Just off our bow a sea-craft passes, 
 
 Headed for a northern land. 
 Right then our Pilot from a locker 
 
 Takes a tiny Union Jack, 
 And we stand up as he salutes her 
 
 While her crew all cheer us back, 
 A moment then all rich with silence 
 
 And our Pilot quiet speaks, 
 ^^We have deep feelings, we sea-faring folk,'' 
 
 **For ocean sailors oft the ocean keeps," 
 At eventide we make the homeport, 
 
 Grassmere's Welcoming Arms and ground. 
 And there we sing. Farewell Forever, 
 
 To our Pilot homeward bound. 
 The bar he's crossed and now heroic 
 
 Looming in the sunset hue, 
 Above his brow I see the laurel 
 
 And our Pilot then I knew. 
 
Nature H7 
 
 BERMUDA 
 
 Canto I 
 
 FAREWELL FOREVER 
 Parting Song to Pilot 
 
 Fare thee well and Oh^ forever 
 May o«r parting song to thee^ 
 On the sea of life and yonder, 
 Wine of hope inspiring be* 
 
 When the whelming waves are breaking 
 With the Homeport lights a lee, 
 There^s a Pilot ttnseen holding 
 Sheltering arms that still the sea* 
 
 0*er the harbor bar He^II ^uide thee 
 Though it rages white with foam, 
 To the Port we all must sail for, 
 Where the lights are those of Home* 
 
 Fare thee well and Oh, forever 
 
 When the Homelight^s dim to thee. 
 There's a Pilot unseen holding 
 Sheltering arms that still the sea* 
 
148 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 BERMUDA 
 Canto II 
 
 The evening feast and Host are calling: 
 
 Where with cheer and kindly thought, 
 We forward look to great adventures 
 
 And to find the Fleece long sought* 
 In silence now spell-bound by Beauty 
 
 We behold the rising Moon, 
 With brush of rays turn darkness golden 
 
 Till with Heaven we seem in tune* 
 The resting hour makes sweet reproaches, 
 
 For the bell has long since tolled, 
 But still an old Bermudan Lady 
 
 Charms us with her tales of old* 
 To rest we go, it seems a moment. 
 
 Till fair Dawn, with sea-damp kiss. 
 Awakes us from a dreamless slumber 
 
 Else the sunrise we might miss* 
 All eager now for new adventures 
 
 We're beguiled by Jehus wise. 
 To drive in vehicles Victorian, 
 
 OVr loveliest roads beneath the skies* 
 Along a winding way we journey. 
 
 Touching here and there a shore, 
 That rims a bay whose crystal waters 
 
 Picture sky as Ocean floor* 
 A sudden turn and there before us 
 
 Eli's Harbor, so 'tis called. 
 All unbelievable in beauty 
 
 Casts its spell and we're enthralled* 
 
 i 
 
Nature 09 
 
 BERMUDA 
 
 Canto n 
 
 And there, the tains of the mansion 
 
 Of an ancient Trimmingham, 
 Are reminiscent of the temples 
 
 Seen in far-off Yucatan* 
 Allured by tales of wondrous places^ 
 
 Harrington's Sound a rare one's called. 
 We seek its shore and pass the Lion, 
 
 Fine old Rodin, stone installed* 
 And list, Arabian Nights though wondrous. 
 
 Never pictured bird so fair, 
 As now wings o'er the emerald waters 
 
 With a beauty strange and rare* 
 All white with slender tail and graceful, 
 
 As it curves in wild careen, 
 Till it breasts the emerald waters 
 
 When it wears a scarf of green* 
 Around this lovely sheet of water 
 
 Time for us unconscious fled, 
 Until enticed by Nether Darkness, 
 
 To the Devil's Hole we're led* 
 How strange that from this habitation 
 
 Caverns reach a *^sunless sea," 
 Like *^sacred Alph's" in far-off China, 
 
 Puzzling Kubla Khan and me* 
 Still stranger was it and astounding 
 
 When the Shepherd of the place, 
 His finny flock now calls together. 
 
 Smiling at my wondering face* 
 For where was water darkly showing, 
 
 When the Shepherd struck his rock, 
 Behold unnumbered forms a-swimming, 
 
 Lo, the fishes are his flock* 
 
J50 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 BERMUDA 
 Canto II 
 
 All hues they are and some chameleons, 
 
 Finny demons, hungry all, 
 A-swarming from the darkened cavern, 
 
 Coming as to Neptttne^s calL 
 To sunlight now and scenes more lovely 
 
 Haste we on our joyous way. 
 Where sea and shore with common beauty, 
 
 Cast their spell and bid us stay^ 
 We break the spell or stay forever. 
 
 And reach again Saint George's strand. 
 To look once more at Shinbone Alley, 
 
 And Saint Peter's stairs so grands 
 A common impulse now bestirs us, 
 
 Looking from Saint David's hill. 
 To venture where enticing southward 
 
 Rests a land that beckons stilL 
 It's there, we sing, the Fleece lies hidden, 
 
 And we rest not till we go* 
 Then chariots Victorian bear us 
 
 To the Southland all aglow* 
 At Walsingham's fine house we linger, 
 
 Where Tom Moore so often stayed. 
 And then go down in caves mysterious, 
 
 Pluto's self would go dismayed* 
 At last along the shore, called Beautiful, 
 
 We make our swift uncharted way. 
 By plants that bloom but once a century. 
 
 And many a curving wondrous bay* 
 From Tucker's Town to Ireland Island, 
 
 Golden sands and coral shore. 
 Resting on the Sea's broad bosom, 
 
 Haunting us forevermore* 
 
Nature t5t 
 
 BERMUDA 
 
 Canto n 
 
 And Devonshire's church, quaint and olden, 
 
 With ^^God's Acre/' and the cedar tree, 
 While shoreward fine old houses gleaming, 
 
 Neptune's temples seem to be. 
 To Spanish Point in fair old Pembroke, 
 
 Once again we make our way. 
 And pass with looks so queer and longing, 
 
 Bedford Arms, so cool and gray* 
 But pass we did to Hamilton Gardens, 
 
 Fragrant still is that dear spot. 
 And then to Stephano's old cavern 
 
 With the Tempest in our thought* 
 Near there the Welcoming Arms are lovely. 
 
 And the mangrove roots, strange to me. 
 Within the creek they call the Mangrove, 
 
 Weird old armlet winding from the sea* 
 On the roads of Paradise we wander 
 
 To the Admiralty Grounds so fair to me, 
 In their dignity and loveliness. 
 
 On the coral marge of the turquoise Sea* 
 To Fairyland our flight now winging. 
 
 In the Eagle's Nest we rest awhile. 
 And now in Grassmere, till the Steamer 
 
 Takes us o'er the Homeward stile* 
 The kindly life and courteous people 
 
 Of Bermuda's garden isles, 
 Still touch our hearts to friendly music. 
 
 All along life's weary miles* 
 And now our Northern Homeland's calling 
 
 While the Fleece remains still hid. 
 Though in adventures told and many others. 
 
 All was done that Jason did* 
 
J 52 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 BERMUDA 
 
 Canto n 
 
 The day propitious comes for sailing, 
 
 And the perfumed breezes blest, 
 Caress me as I leave forever, 
 
 Parting friend who came as guest* 
 And now your verdant coral beauty, 
 
 Jewel Cluster on the bosom of the Sea, 
 Though lost to sight, is visioned deeper 
 
 In the Aftermath through years to be* 
 * « « « • 
 
 Time flies swiftly by. 
 And he who further reads, 
 I shall to him unfold 
 How, in the Aftermath, 
 We found the Fleece of Gold* 
 
 J92J-J922. 
 
Natttre J 53 
 
 THE FLEECE OF GOLD 
 
 At last the oil in Memory^s lamp burns low^ 
 
 And pictures, on the vision's magic screen, 
 
 Now rest, within the realm of sight unseen, 
 
 Where deep the aftermath begins to gIow» 
 
 Arising where the founts of wisdom flow, 
 
 The aftermath of days that were serene. 
 
 Brings up from somewhere in our mind's demesne, 
 
 The truth about the Fleece we longed to know» 
 
 A joyous truth, uprooting all despair. 
 
 How sea and shore, and man and tree, all hide 
 
 What we have sought* And there 'twill ere abide 
 
 And lure men on, defiled with doubt and care. 
 
 To find as we, the deeper joy to hold. 
 
 That in all life lies hid, the Fleece of Gold* 
 
 Sonnet VI* 
 J92J-J922* 
 
OUR CRISIS 
 
SALVATION 
 ALPHA AND OMEGA 
 
Our Crisis J59 
 
 SALVATION 
 
 "What answer unto life's dark riddle, does our age pro- 
 pound ? 
 What Sibyl greets us offering books, that tell us where 
 
 'tis found? 
 The hopeless Sphinx of Egypt is the guardian of a tomb, 
 And Assyria's priests and temples, dust or fossils in 
 
 Time's womb* 
 One Star of dawn illumes the darkness of Egyptian 
 
 Night, 
 When a Pharaoh first visions clearly God and man 
 
 aright* 
 While in Chaldean Ur upon a mountain side at dawn, 
 Before that Pharaoh was, a Hebrew nomad stands for- 
 lorn 
 Above a wooden altar, where he bows beneath the rod. 
 And sacrificing all, he walks unterrified with God* 
 On Aryan soil the Persian prophet lights his Sacred Fire, 
 To teach to o'ercome Evil with the Good, man must 
 
 aspire ; 
 And in the East the Brahman through the many seeks 
 
 the One, 
 Striving for absorption, and through rites and caste to 
 
 come 
 To the nothing of Nirvana, and the end of all begun* 
 Then the gentle Buddha lifts his lamp to light the Way, 
 And renouncing all, he gaineth all and passes free from 
 fray* 
 
J 60 Poems of the Aftermath 
 
 SALVATION 
 
 Now blossoms man's great need, in thought of Hindu, 
 
 Greek and Jew, 
 And in the Syrian Incarnation the world begins anew* 
 Since then the great Semitic outburst for one God, whose 
 
 prophet calls 
 To a sensuous Paradise that Islam's soul enthralls* 
 Now o'er the world the smooch and smut of war defile 
 
 the lands, 
 While Mammon, god of pelf, lifts on high his reeking 
 
 hands 
 As Freedom born anew, through war's awful sacrifice, 
 Is cast in Moloch's arms and souls of men are loth to 
 
 rise* 
 How far it seems, from that great Spirit-life in old Judea, 
 The world has swung* His heritage of Faith, from year 
 
 to year. 
 Comes down, the Fatherhood of God and the Brother- 
 hood of man; 
 And yet how often far astray from that, since time 
 
 began. 
 Mankind has gone* And now before the open Temple 
 
 gates 
 Our generation stands abased, with bated breath, and 
 
 waits 
 For some great Pentecostal tongue to lead with flaming 
 
 speech. 
 Our doubting souls, or we the inner Temple, ne'er shall 
 
 reach* 
 
 October, J922, 
 
Out Crisis J6J 
 
 ALPHA AND OMEGA 
 
 The master key 
 Of Greater Freedom^ 
 
 Spite of stratagem, 
 Forever opes 
 
 The golden portals 
 Of the New Jerusalem* 
 
 June, J922.