p s 
 
 BELIEVE I 
 AND OTHER 
 
 ESTELLC JOHNSON RULE 
 
 
Class _tlS_MML. 
 
 Book 
 
 Goipgtit^^_.-_L3__A 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 
 
POEMS 
 
 ESTELLE JOHNSON RULE 
 
 (MRS. VIRGIL RULE) 
 
 Nixon-Jones PRiNTrNG Company 
 
 215 Pine Street, St. Louis, Mo. 
 
 1913 
 

 Copyright, 1913, by 
 Mrs. Virgil Rule 
 
 a'C!.A3 5 8 34 4 
 
TO MY ^^JEWELS^^ 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Do You Believe in Fairies? 7 
 
 The Last Snow lo 
 
 An Ode to Butternut 1 1 
 
 Inscription on the Grave of a Bird. . 13 
 
 How It Happened 14 
 
 "Old George" 17 
 
 Miss Choppie 20 
 
 Naughty Bad 21 
 
 Amy 23 
 
 One of the "John's Three" 25 
 
 Lady Jane 26 
 
 Helen 27 
 
 My Baby 29 
 
 "Lalla" 30 
 
 "Buller Gack" 31 
 
 The Fairies' Ball 33 
 
 Panacea 39 
 
 Babies i, 2, 3, 4, 5 40 
 
 5 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 For Happiness 41 
 
 A Warning 42 
 
 The Spirit of '76 43 
 
 To the Sisters of Bishop Robertson 
 
 Hall 44 
 
 Vain Regrets 45 
 
 Summer 46 
 
 Minnesota 48 
 
 "They Say" 49 
 
 Tribute to Mr. Champ Clark 50 
 
 The Mississippi Valley 51 
 
 Pike 54 
 
 To Mr. and Mrs. "Ed" S5 
 
 Peter Pan 56 
 
 A Little Yellow Cur 57 
 
DO YOU BELIEVE IN FAIRIES? 
 
 **TAO I believe in fairies?" 
 JL/ "Why, of course, I do." 
 Such a silly question — 
 "It surprises you?" 
 
 "Why? Because I've seen them." 
 "Where? Why, everywhere. 
 Way up in our attic 
 
 There is a secret stair 
 Belonging to the fairies — 
 
 I know what I say is true, 
 For one night when I peeped 
 Behind that curtain of dark blue 
 
 "I could hear them all go scampering 
 Down the steps in great dismay — 
 They don't want me to know about 
 That secret passageway. 
 
 7 
 
DO YOU BELIEVE IN FAIRIES? 
 
 And then I've seen them In the trees, 
 
 Swinging on the branches, 
 Having, oh, the finest time. 
 While below them prances 
 "Just the cutest little horse." 
 
 "You doubt what I am saying?" 
 "Well, I guess I know it's true. 
 Because I heard it neighing. 
 
 And on any moonlight night. 
 
 If you watch the water, 
 In the silvery pathway. 
 
 Where the moonbeams loiter, 
 "You will see a small canoe 
 Paddled, oh, so lightly. 
 As they travel to the moon — " 
 "Yes — they do It nightly." 
 
 "Well, for you I'm sorry. 
 
 I'd introduce you if I could. 
 But of course. If you can't see them. 
 It would do no good. 
 "I love my friends the fairies. 
 What would they think of me ! 
 If I did not believe In them 
 I could not expect to see 
 
DO YOU BELIEVE IN FAIRIES? 
 
 All the darling little elves 
 And hear their music sweet." 
 "You say it's leaves, and mice, and things 
 In the attic and woods I meet?" 
 
 "Nonsense! I know it's fairies — 
 
 You poor neglected thing, 
 Perhaps if you are very good 
 
 May be to you they'll bring 
 A pair of magic glasses 
 
 That will make your eyes like mine, 
 By which you can see the fairies. 
 
 Won't that just be fine?" 
 
THE LAST SNOW. 
 
 THROUGH the still air the snow- 
 flakes fell 
 So softly not even a fairy could tell 
 Living right there in the heart of the 
 
 dell. 
 Beneath the robe of glistening white 
 The crocuses warmed awoke in the 
 
 night, 
 Stretched themselves, and knew when 
 
 the sun 
 Melted the snowdrops one by one 
 Winter would die, his work well done, 
 And Spring would rise in all of her 
 
 glory 
 From the grave of the old man white 
 
 and hoary. 
 
 10 
 
AN ODE TO BUTTERNUT. 
 
 THERE is music in the babbling of 
 the brook, 
 And also in the whispering of the 
 pines 
 Where God's creatures can be found in 
 every nook, 
 In places where the sunlight seldom 
 shines — 
 An Indian that we meet upon the trail. 
 The lake reflecting foliage from the 
 shore, 
 All creatures from the eagle to the snail 
 Add their quota to the beauty we 
 adore — 
 And, of it, in it, with it, there abides 
 
 The spirit of a man with soul divine, 
 Unspoiled though through the mire it 
 rides 
 This bit of nature for us does assign 
 
 11 
 
AN ODE TO BUTTERNUT 
 
 A lesson, that we all should strive to 
 learn. 
 It would teach us proper values from 
 the site 
 Of the star that far above so brightly 
 burns, 
 And thus eliminate the paltry things 
 of Life. 
 
 12 
 
INSCRIPTION ON A BIRD'S 
 GRAVE. 
 
 nr^HY wings are folded in eternal rest, 
 -■- Lie here and sleep in this dainty 
 
 nest — 
 May the feathered beauty of thy tiny 
 
 breast 
 Rise like the soul of a babe to the light, 
 And live In the face of a pansy bright. 
 
HOW IT HAPPENED. 
 
 Dedicated to 
 Mr. and Mrs. B. H. Charles. 
 
 IX/TR. Stork was busy, he worked very 
 ^^^ late. 
 
 Usually he closed his factory at eight, 
 But tomorrow he started on his vaca- 
 tion. 
 Thinking he needed some recreation — 
 Over the housetops and over the trees. 
 Over the mountains and over the seas 
 He would fly to old Holland, on the 
 
 home roof to drop; 
 Look over models for next season's 
 crop; 
 
 14 
 
HOW IT HAPPENED 
 
 Gossip with friends and tell to them all 
 The trade that was his Spring, Summer 
 
 and Fall; 
 How his orders came from far and 
 
 near, 
 With seldom a murmur, no matter how 
 
 dear; 
 His prices were high, but then they 
 
 should be. 
 Such wonderful wares the world never 
 
 did see ! 
 Thus working and thinking, he jumped 
 
 at the sound 
 Of a faint little gurgle — Did it come 
 
 from the ground? 
 
 He paused and listened — Again it was 
 
 heard — 
 Could it be at his door? The thought 
 
 was absurd ! 
 Nevertheless he opened it wide, 
 And there he beheld a basket well tied. 
 Into the knot a note slipped which said: 
 "Mr. Stork" — Tearing it open he read; 
 "Please credit enclosed to my account, 
 Times are too hard to pay that amount." 
 15 
 
HOW IT HAPPENED 
 
 "What shall I do," quoth he with a sigh, 
 "I must leave tomorrow and no one will 
 
 buy 
 At short notice anything quite so rare ! 
 I have it, ha ! ha ! I'll just send a pair." 
 Turning, at random he opened a bag 
 Tucked in the "extra," then examined 
 
 the tag 
 To see who had won the dear little elf. 
 Reading the name he smiled to himself. 
 
 In all the wide world there was no one 
 he knew. 
 
 So fitted by nature to welcome these two. 
 
 He could leave on the morrow his con- 
 science at rest, 
 
 Where most deserved he had given his 
 best 
 
 Though blindly, yet guided by Him up 
 above 
 
 The tender Shepherd whose watchword 
 is Love. 
 
 16 
 
"OLD GEORGE." 
 
 TTIS skin is brown, his hair is gray, 
 -*■ -■■ His face is seamed by the years. 
 His hands are gnarled like the limbs of 
 an oak 
 He has done the work that sears. 
 
 His age is three score ten and five. 
 But his back is as straight as of yore, 
 
 It is hard to believe he was alive 
 So long "before the war." 
 
 And what he does not know of that time 
 
 Isn't worth knowing at all. 
 He fought on the level and the hills 
 did climb, 
 Forging ahead, though others did 
 fall. 
 
 17 
 
OLD GEORGE 
 
 "The battle of Vicksburg? That ain't 
 so, 
 
 The histories don't tell the truth: 
 I guess the date I ought to know, 
 
 I was there and lost a tooth, 
 
 "And a couple of ribs were broken, 
 
 For them I didn't care, 
 It was just a little token 
 
 Of the fight — And that small pair 
 
 "Sometimes gives me a twinge In the 
 side 
 
 To remind me to thank my God, 
 That I am free and can abide 
 
 Where I wish, and not fear the rod 
 
 "Of any master, but you "Little Boss." 
 
 My ! my ! Just look at me, 
 When I wink my eye and my head I toss 
 
 Come to the kitchen and see 
 
 "What I have saved for you over night. 
 
 "Pudden?" Well, isn't that funny? 
 That you will always guess it right 
 
 I would bet any one even money." 
 
 18 
 
OLD GEORGE 
 
 Dear Old George ! Your soul is white 
 Though your skin has always been 
 brown, 
 
 If "virtue reaps its own reward" 
 Some day you will wear a crown. 
 
 19 
 
MISS CHOPPIE. 
 
 JYJISS Choppie is a little chow, 
 ^^rt. ^^'' P^^e^ts were Chinese— 
 When she speaks she says "bow-wow, 
 i ranslated meaning, "please." 
 
 20 
 
NAUGHTY BAD. 
 
 * I ""HERE is a boy in our town 
 
 -■■ That I would like to see, 
 Eve heard him upstairs, Eve heard him 
 down. 
 But usually when he hears me 
 He scampers out of the window. 
 
 He must be a misty lad 
 For never yet have I seen him. 
 This little "Naughty Bad." 
 
 My babies all are angels. 
 
 They wouldn't kick and scream. 
 When once in bed there is never a sound, 
 
 Unless they have a bad dream. 
 It is just that little rascal ! 
 
 He must hve on this block 
 And gets other folks into trouble 
 
 Almost by the clock. 
 
 21 
 
NAUGHTY BAD 
 
 He thinks I will spank my baby, 
 
 Whom nurse puts to bed at seven, 
 When I hear a noise way upstairs. 
 
 Really like there were eleven 
 Husky boys all squealing 
 
 "I don't want to go to bed !" 
 Thus in a moment revealing 
 
 The presence of "Naughty Bad." 
 
 Just wait you sly little urchin 
 I will get you yet; you'll see ! 
 
 And when I do 
 
 I'll punish you, 
 
 So you'll remember me. 
 
 For teasing my poor dear baby 
 
 And trying to make me think 
 He could be guilty of half the tricks 
 
 You can do in the wink 
 Of an eye. Why, my baby is perfect ! 
 
 Your Mother I know would feel sad 
 If she knew of all your antics 
 
 You naughty, "Naughty Bad!" 
 
 22 
 
TO AMY- 
 
 THE FIRST BORN. 
 
 T N the hall of memory's pictures, 
 -■' Sketched by the hand of fate, 
 Some fade and grow misty early, 
 
 Others undimmed seem to wait 
 For the passing of years 
 
 With their smiles and tears. 
 
 There are sketches large and sketches 
 small 
 Signed by the Master hand, 
 Some tell a story of life by sea, 
 Others tell those of the land; 
 One will reveal only a face. 
 
 Another a ball gown trimmed with 
 lace. 
 
TO AMY 
 
 In my gallery hangs a picture 
 
 That until the end of time 
 Will always stand out bright and clear 
 
 In whatever land or clime 
 A thought may flash a light in the hall 
 
 Illumining that picture on the wall. 
 
 It is only the sketch of a cradle, 
 But waving above the sides 
 
 Tiny hands like rosebud leaves 
 Show that within it abides 
 
 A wee little morsel, just come that morn. 
 I was a mother ! That was my first 
 born. 
 
 If all the Angels a chorus should sing 
 They never could tell the bliss, 
 
 That comes to a woman that first hour — 
 Ah ! Unfortunate those who miss 
 
 This wonderful gift the Gods can give, 
 Crowning with joy this life we live. 
 
 24 
 
ONE OF THE "JOHNS THREE." 
 
 JOHN is the name the Bible records, 
 To the boys and to me he is Jack, 
 And will be however big he may grow. 
 
 My mind will always go back 
 To a tiny squalling little boy 
 
 That filled me with pride to the brim. 
 Chief Justice or President he surely 
 would be, 
 I layed out his whole life for him. 
 Of course my predictions may not come 
 
 true, 
 But I trust to the blood of his Grand- 
 sires two, 
 Heroes ! Their lives tell the rest. 
 One of the "Johns Three," 
 This legacy alone will be 
 
 A mascot by which he is blest. 
 
 25 
 
LADY JANE. 
 
 T ADY JANE with your flying curls 
 -■— ' And your eyes like twinkling stars, 
 As you dance and dance, and sing and 
 sing, 
 For hours, and hours, and hours. 
 
 Living a life of make-believe, 
 Scarcely touching the earth, 
 
 Giving joy where'er you go. 
 
 With your sweetness and your mirth. 
 
 Today Princess Amelia, 
 
 Tomorrow queen of them all, 
 
 Your royal robes sweeping with equal 
 grace 
 The parlor, attic or hall. 
 
 Dance and sing as the years go by 
 
 My little Lady Jane, 
 Hold your illusions close to your heart! 
 
 They will help make sunshine of rain. 
 
 26 
 
HELEN. 
 
 THE woods were full of colors rare, 
 Red and brown and golden glow. 
 Soon the trees would all be bare, 
 
 But then they swayed as the wind did 
 blow, 
 Rustling their leaves like plumage gay. 
 As if at Fate they would laugh and say: 
 "What care I that tomorrow I die. 
 We have lived our lives and are will- 
 ing to lie 
 Close in the arms of Mother Earth, 
 Enriching the soil and making it worth 
 More than we could in our colors 
 bright." 
 
 Thus bedecked in Autumn splendor, 
 Arched by the blue of a matchless sky. 
 
 The world was guarded by all the 
 Angels, 
 For the birth of a soul was nigh. 
 
 27 
 
HELEN 
 
 The soul looked out through eyes of 
 
 blue, 
 A dear little girl ! And Mother knew 
 God had blessed her forever more 
 With the gift of this baby — Number 
 
 Four. 
 
 28 
 
MY BABY. 
 
 npHE gold from the hills 
 -■- The gold In the tills 
 Glitters — 
 Yet Is not so rare 
 As my boy's golden hair ! 
 
 The bloom on the peach 
 Just out of reach 
 
 Beautiful — 
 Cannot compare 
 With his skin soft and fair! 
 
 The stars In the sky, 
 The jewels men buy 
 
 Sparkle — 
 Though set in a crown 
 Could not dull his eyes brown ! 
 
 But were he not fair, 
 Nor have golden hair, 
 
 My baby; 
 In my heart would abide 
 The same love and pride! 
 
 29 
 
'LALLA." 
 
 T F I should write with a jeweled pen, 
 
 -*■ Dipped in a pot of honey, 
 
 I never could tell of your nature sweet. 
 
 Always cheerful and sunny — 
 Bringing into the sick room, 
 
 Whether of stranger or friend, 
 A spirit wholly unselfish 
 
 That would of its strength freely lend. 
 So far above the average 
 
 With a soul so pure and true — 
 Some misunderstand your greatness, 
 
 Until coming close to you. 
 
 30 
 
"BULLER GACK." 
 
 T T is fine to be a linguist 
 -■- To know what people say 
 Wherever fate may put you, 
 If only for a day. 
 
 In many different tongues 
 
 The thought of the world is given 
 But there is one, to understand 
 
 Wise men in vain have striven. 
 
 It is a language spoken 
 
 Only by the elect, 
 After they leave that country 
 
 They very soon forget. 
 
 It sounds to me like music. 
 
 To others there may be a lack — 
 
 Without a key to the puzzle. 
 
 Translate these words — "Buller 
 Gack." 
 
 31 
 
"BULLER GACK" 
 
 It means a face round and rosy, 
 
 A smile for a glance or less. 
 Two feet that will kick if you look their 
 way 
 As he lies flat on his back, 
 And always wriggles and laughs with 
 glee 
 When a wee voice lisps "BuUer 
 Gack." 
 
 32 
 
THE FAIRIES' BALL. 
 
 ^ I ''HE fairies were giving a ball one 
 ■*• night 
 In the trail of the silvery moon, 
 The carpet of balsam was laid in its 
 light 
 And they danced to the rhythmic tune 
 
 Of the katydid's whirring, the frog's 
 deep bass. 
 
 And all the night songs of that wonder- 
 ful place 
 
 Merged and swelled to a glorious sound 
 
 So entrancing the dancers could scarce 
 stay on the ground. 
 
 Suddenly (the ball was at its height), 
 A band of fireflies hove into sight, 
 Fashing their lanterns this way and that 
 As they encircled the room, then quietly 
 
 sat 
 Waiting a chance to join in the fun, 
 
 33 
 
THE FAIRIES' BALL 
 
 Too polite to intrude until that dance 
 
 was done, 
 Never dreaming the elves would ask 
 
 them to go 
 Thinking fireflies as partners for fairies 
 
 too low. 
 
 The master of ceremonies, proud little 
 
 elf. 
 Came forward, bowed, and in spite of 
 
 himself 
 Was impressed by the size of this flying 
 
 band. 
 He hemmed and he hawed and pro- 
 ceeded to stand 
 First on one foot then on the other 
 As in a small voice he said that his 
 
 brother, 
 The man in the moon, had promised to 
 
 shine. 
 "Your lights are too yellow and with his 
 
 won't combine." 
 
 The fireflies were shocked, it could not 
 
 be true; 
 
 They had loved and watched these elves 
 
 as they grew, 
 34 
 
THE FAIRIES' BALL 
 
 And now they were shown to be only 
 
 snobs. 
 The flies wanted to dance, they were not 
 
 looking for jobs. 
 Tommy the leader was mad through and 
 
 through, 
 He spoke to the others and away they 
 
 all flew 
 To the top of a bush not far away, 
 Where their heads close together each 
 
 had his say — 
 
 And just when they all were buzzing the 
 
 loudest 
 A low hanging cloud, very quiet and 
 
 modest, 
 Overhearing the wrangle and guessing 
 
 the cause, 
 Turned in her course and with scarcely 
 
 a pause 
 Calmly sailed over the face of the moon, 
 Chuckled and said: "I think very soon 
 The tables will turn and the flies have a 
 
 chance. 
 For not even a fairy in the dark cares 
 
 to dance." 
 
 35 
 
THE FAIRIES' BALL 
 
 Cries of distress told the truth of this 
 
 surmise, 
 What were they to do ! they could dance 
 
 until sunrise 
 If only the clouds would go other ways, 
 Allowing the moon to cast its bright 
 
 rays 
 As per contract — Hastily they called in 
 
 the wise man 
 Who stirring some tea leaves in a very 
 
 small fry pan 
 Said, after gazing enraptured within it; 
 "I see in the leaves that most any minute 
 
 More clouds may arise, the moon not to 
 
 blame — 
 There is nothing makes gloom like ex- 
 tinguishing the flame 
 Of friendship sweet and charity rare, 
 Hand in hand these make a pair 
 That brightens the world. So you better 
 
 ask pardon 
 Of those you offended, your friends of 
 the garden." 
 
 36 
 
THE FAIRIES' BALL 
 
 The elves felt humbled and some did 
 
 relate 
 How they had loitered and stayed out 
 
 until eight. 
 
 Frightened to death as the darkness 
 
 came on, 
 And the fireflies had lighted them home 
 
 every one. 
 With penitent hearts a committee was 
 
 formed, 
 Resolutions were drafted and every one 
 
 warmed 
 To the thought of inviting the whole 
 
 band to come 
 As their guests of honor, and surely 
 
 some. 
 If not all, were sincere when they said: 
 
 "We want you" — 
 The flies believing, knew just what to do. 
 
 37 
 
THE FAIRIES' BALL 
 
 In a very short time their lamps freshly 
 burnished 
 
 They flew off together and certainly fur- 
 nished 
 
 A sight to enrapture the eyes of them 
 all, 
 
 For now they were going to have a 
 grand ball. 
 
 The music was started louder than ever, 
 
 Each fly had a fairy as light as a feather. 
 
 The cloud floated slowly, laughing with 
 glee. 
 
 She knew never a ball would there be 
 
 Without this little lantern brigade. 
 For, aside from their flickering fire, they 
 
 had made 
 Friends for aye of these elves in the 
 
 glade, 
 By forgetting the bad and accepting the 
 
 weal 
 Their hearts they had shown to be true 
 
 as steel. 
 
 38 
 
PANACEA. 
 
 ** I ""WO little eyes of heavenly blue 
 ■^ Filled with tears like drops of 
 dew. 
 Chubby fists dug into the eyes, 
 Body shaken with sobs and sighs. 
 Baby is hurt dreadfully bad; 
 Bumped his head, poor little lad! 
 Soon the clouds will roll away 
 And sunshine over the dear face play — 
 For it matters not what is amiss, 
 The remedy for it is Mother's kiss. 
 
 39 
 
TO BABIES I, 2,3,4, 5. 
 
 'VT'OU have cast a spell baby dear 
 •*■ Over this world since you came 
 
 here, 
 With blessings untold in each tiny hand. 
 For two people at least in God's blessed 
 
 land. 
 You have changed the hope of their joint 
 
 life scheme 
 To reality, where it was only a dream — 
 To them sweeter than any other 
 Have become these words "Daddy" and 
 
 "Mother." 
 
 40 
 
FOR HAPPINESS. 
 
 /^^ATHER the sunbeams one by one 
 ^^ Weave you a net with the gold 
 
 strands spun; 
 When arrive the blue gray days 
 Smother them in its mesh of rays. 
 
 41 
 
A WARNING. 
 
 /CHILDREN take note, 
 
 ^^ When you look for a mote 
 
 In the eye of sister or brother, 
 Of your own eye beware, 
 The mote may be there 
 
 Instead of in that of another. 
 
 42 
 
THE SPIRIT OF '76. 
 
 /^ N the Fourth of July 
 ^^ The echos do fly 
 
 From the cannon of '76. 
 Down through the years 
 Their booming one hears, 
 
 As victims the war demon picks. 
 
 None live to relate 
 
 Of the home and the state 
 
 For which men died long ago, 
 But the spirit still lives, 
 And to the world gives 
 
 Boys that to heroes may grow. 
 
 43 
 
TO THE SISTERS OF BISHOP 
 ROBERTSON HALL. 
 
 Q TAUNCH and firm together we 
 
 ^ stand, 
 
 Joined by the strength of the golden 
 
 band 
 Of love and reverence for these sisters 
 
 dear, 
 And the memories added from year to 
 
 year. 
 As they guided the little ones over the 
 
 shoals. 
 Training the minds and above all the 
 
 souls 
 To meet the demands of life and be 
 
 brave. 
 Whatever might come from cradle to 
 
 grave. 
 It matters not what the future may 
 
 hold, 
 That our love will stand none will gain- 
 say, _ 
 We are their daughters loyal for aye. 
 
 44 
 
VAIN REGRETS. 
 
 JUST at the hour when daylight fades 
 And night is hovering near, 
 I sit by the fire with idle hands 
 
 And scarce can suppress a tear. 
 The shadows flickering on the wall 
 
 Are like those within my heart 
 Made by the light of youth's bright 
 dreams 
 
 Which shine down the years, and 
 start 
 Like spectres in the eve of life 
 
 From that past of long ago. 
 And seem to say with a warning voice 
 
 It were better thus or so. 
 Sadly now regrets will come 
 
 As the twilight deepens fast, 
 And yet perhaps it is well, as true 
 
 That they cannot always last. 
 But will vanish in the light of day 
 
 And with the shadows rest. 
 They bring but tears and are unjust, 
 
 For who knows what is best? 
 
 45 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 npHE butterfly flits from flower to 
 ■^ flower, 
 The bee from the clover sips, 
 The humming bird hums from hour to 
 hour, 
 Fluttering his wings as he dips 
 Into the heart of violet and rose, 
 Who willingly give of their treasure to 
 
 those 
 Who ask it, as each day comes and goes. 
 
 The wind is sighing through the trees. 
 
 The birds carol and sing. 
 The ants are busy, each moment they 
 
 seize 
 To add to the stores they bring. 
 Piling them higher and higher each day. 
 Knowing that winter a long time will 
 
 stay — 
 They must work to be ready, not only 
 
 play. 
 
 46 
 
SUMMER 
 
 The school room is closed, 
 
 The books put away, 
 Study for a few weeks is over, 
 
 While out in the open with truth I 
 might say 
 The small boy and girl are in clover. 
 Like grasshoppers playing from morn 
 
 until night, 
 Yet with thrift like the ant, storing up 
 
 might 
 To be used when needed in the win- 
 ter's great fight. 
 
 47 
 
MINNESOTA. 
 
 WAVING wheat and rustling corn, 
 In a land that I know of the 
 earth doth adorn. 
 When surfeited well with the City's 
 
 dull roar 
 And all things lovers of progress adore, 
 I hie me away to this land of my dreams 
 Where wheatfields and cornfields and 
 everything seems 
 At rest and at peace. 
 Where the birds as they soar 
 Their sweet songs do outpour 
 
 Happy just to live in God's world. 
 
 48 
 
THEY say; 
 
 THEY say" is a simple little phrase, 
 But like the serpent's fang, 
 Often poisons and sometimes kills 
 Without even a pang. 
 
 "They say they are not very happy!" 
 "They say his fortune is lost!" 
 
 "They say in private he beats her ^"^^ 
 "They say he is horribly bossed!" 
 
 Stronger than oath on a Bible 
 In the great court room of life. 
 
 It convicts without even a hearing — 
 Often cuts like a knife. 
 
 Yet leaves one utterly helpless — 
 Who can attest whence it came? 
 
 With "They say," told strictly "entre 
 nous'' 
 Oft an innocent victim is slain. 
 
 49 
 
A TRIBUTE TO MR. CHAMP 
 CLARK. 
 
 AS the mountain to the foot hills; 
 As the ocean to the lake; 
 As the river to the brooklet; 
 
 As granite is to slate ; 
 As sunlight is to starlight; 
 
 In the scheme of natural things, 
 Such is your place in the scale of men- 
 Worthy to sit among kings. 
 
 50 
 
THE MISSISSIPPI VALLEY 
 
 OUT of the north you come, 
 Majestically slow you run- 
 Nourished from out the hills 
 By tiny brooks and rills, 
 Thou the beholder thrills — 
 O ! mighty river. 
 
 Not many years gone by, 
 Silhouetted against the sky — 
 Oft stood an Indian brown, 
 A king in feathered crown, 
 Watching canoes float down 
 On your broad bosom. 
 
 Fashioned because of need, 
 Steady as a faithful steed 
 Was the canoe. 
 First as a birch it grew, 
 Before they even knew 
 You could uphold it. 
 
 51 
 
THE MISSISSIPPI VALLEY 
 
 Now on your wide expanse 
 Can be seen at a glance 
 Many vessels filled with freight, 
 Riches in box and crate, 
 Products of this valley great — 
 Incomparable Mississippi ! 
 
 Where now the smoke stack 
 Belches forth a volume black — 
 Then in that long ago, 
 During the afterglow, 
 When the sun dipped below 
 The horizon. 
 
 Tiny spirals of smoke strayed 
 Up through the leafy shade — 
 Revealing the evening fire 
 Before which in rare attire 
 Sat the braves, son and sire, 
 Monarchs indeed! 
 
 For them the deer was made 
 And ail the wealth of glade 
 Minerals, and birds that fly 
 E'en the clouds floating by. 
 And the fish always shy 
 Beneath your surface, 
 
 52 
 
THE MISSISSIPPI VALLEY 
 
 Were made by the spirits good, 
 For the Indians' joy and food — 
 Until the white man came 
 None could dispute their claim, 
 Expecting forever to reign. 
 O ! dethroned kings ! 
 
 The silence of majestic woods 
 No longer o'er them broods. 
 Progress with mighty strides 
 Built towns and there abides, 
 While calmly between them glides 
 You, unchanging. 
 
 The wealth and beauty possessed 
 By this vast middle West, 
 She owes to the mighty stream 
 Coursing its way serene 
 Through realms like a wondrous dream! 
 Valley of the Mississippi. 
 
 53 
 
PIKE. 
 
 T) ACK to Pike that wondrous place 
 ^-^ I love to go, and by the Grace 
 Of God I'll stay most summers through, 
 And thank my stars that we all drew 
 A Piker for a Daddy. 
 
 54 
 
TO MR. AND MRS. "ED." 
 
 CUPID, on an August day, 
 Having stored his crop away 
 Of hearts galore, both small and big, 
 Settled himself upon a twig. 
 And with a pride in good work done 
 Chuckled aloud— It was great fun 
 To speed the arrows on their way 
 Hit the marks and know that they, 
 Wounded and bleeding from the dart, 
 Yet with the trophy would not part — 
 Cradled thus in Nature's lap. 
 Watching the sunbeams through a gap 
 Turn to gold the yellowing sheaves, 
 He heard a slight sound, and parting the 
 
 leaves, 
 There met his gaze a vision like this. 
 And he knew (nothing reveals like a 
 
 kiss). 
 For better or worse, until death should 
 
 them part, 
 His arrow was buried deep in each 
 
 heart. 
 
 55 
 
PETER PAN. 
 
 pETER PAN, dear little man, 
 ^ Do you know what I'd like to do? 
 Put you in a locket, 
 And keep it in my pocket, 
 That is how I love you. 
 
 For, of all the elves that dig and delve, 
 Or those that are fairies for true, 
 
 The one that is dearest. 
 
 And seems to be nearest, 
 
 Is the sprite, Peter Pan — that's you. 
 
 56 
 
A LITTLE YELLOW CUR. 
 
 I 
 
 DIDN'T take yer apples ! 
 
 "Please don't send me to jail — 
 I ain't never been very bad — 
 Don't believe that tale!" 
 "If you didn't steal those apples," 
 The burly policeman said, 
 Towering over the little waif, 
 "I'd hke to know who did." 
 
 A kindly man was passing, 
 
 Heard the little wail, 
 Stopped to hear what 'twas all about 
 
 Seeing the face thin and pale 
 His thoughts turned in a second. 
 
 As she looked at him in affright. 
 To his own cherished darlings, 
 
 Compared with this sorry plight. 
 
 57 
 
A LITTLE YELLOW CUR 
 
 "I'll cover the cost of your apples, 
 
 Just let this child alone — " 
 "Here, my dear, take this and go." 
 She had never heard such a tone 
 In all of her short neglected life, 
 
 Curses had been her share. 
 She scarcely waited to thank him. 
 But ran as fleet as a hare. 
 
 With the precious money clasped in her 
 hand. 
 Her heart weighted with fear. 
 For the only one who loved her ; 
 
 A little yellow cur. 
 Oh, if those boys should get him. 
 
 That lived below on their block! 
 They often had threatened to some 
 day 
 Kill him with a rock. 
 
 As she turned the street by the 
 shanty — 
 (She had always called it home — 
 Where her mother had died years ago, 
 Where she still lived alone. 
 
 58 
 
A LITTLE YELLOW CUR 
 
 Though surrounded by "kids" a plenty 
 
 That in these few years had come, 
 Since her father had married again, 
 To her they were evils to shun) — 
 
 Her worst fears were realized, 
 
 In the gutter she saw at a glance. 
 The prostrate form of her darling Jim 
 
 Who always with joy would prance 
 When he saw her in the distance — 
 
 Now dancing 'round him in glee 
 Was a band of dirty urchins. 
 
 Cruel as pirates at sea. 
 
 With a cry of anguish and anger 
 
 Down she went in the mud, 
 Gathering the queer little yellow form 
 
 To her heart in a great big hug. 
 "I knew something would happen, 
 
 But I couldn't help it Jim, dear." 
 With a feeble wag of his stumpy tail. 
 
 He licked the cheek that was near. 
 
 As her thin arms thus enfolded him, 
 Like a mother does her child, 
 
 The boys stood by in silence 
 And only sneered or smiled. 
 
 59 
 
A LITTLE YELLOW CUR 
 
 One disclaimed any hand in it 
 
 And regretted he was not killed — 
 
 Letting him off with a broken leg 
 Scarcely their threat fulfilled. 
 
 "I'll tell you fellows what we'll do, 
 We'll have an auction to see 
 Who gets this wonderful thorough- 
 bred — 
 The auctioneer I will be," 
 Jumping onto a bucket 
 
 He shouted with much gusto : 
 "Ladies and gents, who wants to buy 
 A yellow dog twenty years old?" 
 
 Dirty hands dived into pockets, 
 
 Their wealth was slim at the best — 
 With a business-like air they entered 
 Into the cruel jest. 
 "Half a cigarette I'll put on him." 
 " 'Tain't enough. A whole one I'll 
 bid." 
 To that was added a marble. 
 "Well, I guess I'll just bet my lid." 
 
 60 
 
A LITTLE YELLOW CUR 
 
 Thus went a hat as an offering. 
 
 A torn baseball and knife 
 Followed in quick succession, 
 
 As warmer waxed the strife. 
 All the while Ellen stood pleading, 
 
 Exhorting, mad with rage, 
 While Jim, though only a little dog, 
 
 Tried her grief to assuage. 
 
 Her eyes suddenly narrowed. 
 
 With craftiness born of the soil 
 In which she had grown — a weed 
 
 Nourished with blows in turmoil. 
 The auction waged long and fiercely. 
 Bids rose! The climax was reached; 
 "Six cents and cigar stump, who'll raise 
 her," 
 The auctioneer loudly screeched. 
 
 "He can kill ten rats in a second 
 
 And pertect a palace from thieves, 
 You better speak up, he's going 
 To Mr. Maloney for these — " 
 
 61 
 
A LITTLE YELLOW CUR 
 
 On her feet in a jiffy was Ellen, 
 "Twenty-five cents," she yelled, 
 
 Holding aloft the coin — 
 In an instant the hubbub was quelled. 
 
 'Going, going, gone!" 
 
 With a spring he seized the money. 
 Was half way down the block — 
 
 Ellen laughed, it was so funny 
 To see the way they took to their heels. 
 
 Thieves in pursuit of a thief, 
 And only Ellen and Jim remained. 
 
 She sank down in relief. 
 
 Taking off her apron that served 
 
 To hide holes and more dirt, 
 She wrapped it with womanly tender- 
 ness 
 
 'Round the dog so badly hurt — 
 'Don't you cry, little dearie. 
 
 Tonight we'll sneak away 
 And find the good, kind gent 
 
 Who gave me that money today." 
 
 62 
 
A LITTLE YELLOW CUR 
 
 Crooning thus in happiness 
 
 The look of defiance gone, 
 Giving a glimpse of a soul beneath 
 
 That did not seem to belong 
 To this poor bit of flotsam — 
 
 And yet we know it is true, 
 He who marketh the sparrow's fall 
 
 Surely will care for you. 
 
 With the money a name was given, 
 
 Which proved in after years 
 To be the salvation of a soul. 
 
 Saved from that which sears — 
 We can't always know His reasons, 
 
 Nor always see the light, 
 But I know in His infinite wisdom 
 
 That whatever IS, is right. 
 
 63 
 
wov 20 Bin