*
r^Rinine\^smo£e
t:^
m.
\Mii\ rr"
By Christopher Morley
CHIMNEYSMOKE
HIDE AND SEEK
THE ROCKING HORSE
SONGS FOR A LITTLE HOUSE
MINCE PIE
New York: George H. Doran Company
This hearth was built for thy delight,
For thee the logs were sawn,
For thee the largest chair, at night,
Is to the chimney drawn.
For thee, dear lass, the match was lit,
To yield the ruddy blaze —
May Jack Frost give us joy of it
For many, many days.
r^Rimn eVsm o£e
(^firisiopRer'^JV^le/
Illustrated By
^ om as^ogarty
&eorffeT0)oran (gmpany
\'^
z-i
Copyright, igij, IQIQ, 1920 and 1921,
By George H. Doran Company
%^
H-
^1
Printed in the United States of America
DEC 28 1921
^/
%
0n!,A653255
-ta^^ /
'^How can I turn from any fire
On any mans hearthstone?
I know the wonder and desire
That went to build my own."
— RuDYARD Kipling, "The Fires'
^utRors^te
There are a number of poems in this collection
that have not previously appeared in book form.
But, as a few readers may discern, many of the
verses are reprinted from Songs for a Little House
(1917), The Rocking Horse (1919) and Hide
and Seek (1920). There is also one piece revived
from the judicious obscurity of an early escapade.
The Eighth Sin, published in Oxford in 1912,
It is on Mr. Thomas Fogarty's delightful and
sympathetic drawings that this book rests its
real claim to be considered a new venture. To
Mr. Fogarty, and to Mr. George H. Doran, whose
constant kindness and generosity contradict all
the traditions about publishers and minor poets,
the author expresses his permanent gratitude.
Roslyn, Long Island,
[vii]
Qntents
TO THE LITTLE HOUSE
A GRACE BEFORE WRITING
DEDICATION FOR A FIREPLACE
TAKING TITLE
THE SECRET
ONLY A MATTER OF TIME
AT THE MERMAID CAFETERIA
OUR HOUSE
ON NAMING A HOUSE
A Hallowe'en memory,
REFUSING YOU IMMORTALITY
BAYBERRY CANDLES
SECRET LAUGHTER
SIX WEEKS OLD
[ix]
19
20
21
22
25
26
28
29
31
32
35
36
37
38
CONTENTS
PAGE
A CHARM 41
MY PIPE 42
THE 5:42 44
PETER PAN 48
IN HONOR OF TAFFY TOPAZ 49
THE CEDAR CHEST 5°
READING ALOUD ^1
ANIMAL CRACKERS ^2
THE MILKMAN ^S
LIGHT VERSE ^6
THE FURNACE 57
WASHING THE DISHES 58
THE CHURCH OF UNBENT KNEES 61
ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY COAL-BIN 62
THE OLD SWIMMER 66
THE MOON-SHEEP JO
SMELLS 71
SMELLS (junior) 72
MAR gUONG, CHINESE LAUNDRYMAN 75
THE FAT LITTLE PURSE 76
THE REFLECTION 80
THE BALLOON PEDDLER 82
LINES FOR AN ECCENTRIc's BOOK PLATE 86
TO A POST-OFFICE INKWELL 89
THE CRIB 90
THE POET 94
TO A DISCARDED MIRROR 97
[x]
CONTENTS
PAGE
TO A CHILD q3
TO A VERY YOUNG GENTLEMAN lOO
TO AN OLD-FASHIONED POET IO4
BURNING LEAVES IN SPRING lO^
BURNING LEAVES, NOVEMBER ' I06
A VALENTINE GAME 107
FOR A BIRTHDAY I08
KEATS 111
TO H. F. M., A SONNET IN SUNLIGHT 1 13
QUICKENING 1 14
AT A WINDOW SILL 11^
THE RIVER OF LIGHT 1 16
OF HER GLORIOUS MADNESS 1 18
IN AN AUCTION ROOM HO
EPITAPH FOR A POET WHO WROTE NO POETRY 120
SONNET BY A GEOMETER 121
TO A VAUDEVILLE TERRIER 122
TO AN OLD FRIEND I25
TO A BURLESQUE SOUBRETTE 126
THOUGHTS WHILE PACKING A TRUNK I29
STREETS 130
TO THE ONLY BEGETTER I3I
PEDOMETER I30
HOSTAGES 134
ARS DURA 13-7
O. HENRY APOTHECARY I38
FOR THE CENTENARY OF KEATS's SONNET I39
[xi]
C ON TENTS
PAGE
TWO o'clock 140
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELLER I4I
THE WEDDED LOVER 14.2
TO YOU, REMEMBERING THE PAST I43
CHARLES AND MARY I44
TO A GRANDMOTHER 145
DIARISTS 146
THE LAST SONNET 147
THE SAVAGE I48
ST. Paul's and woolworth 149
ADVICE TO A CITY -1 JO
THE TELEPHONE DIRECTORY I5I
GREEN ESCAPE 153
VESPER SONG FOR COMMUTERS I57
THE ICE WAGON I58
AT A MOVIE THEATRE 161
SONNETS IN A LODGING HOUSE 163
THE MAN WITH THE HOE (PRESs) 167
DO YOU EVER FEEL LIKE GOD*? 168
RAPID TRANSIT I7O
CAUGHT IN THE UNDERTOW I7I
TO HIS BROWN-EYED MISTRESS I72
PEACE 173
SONG, IN DEPRECATION OF PULCHRITUDE I75
MOUNTED POLICE I76
TO HIS MISTRESS, DEPLORING THAT HE IS
NOT AN ELIZABETHAN GALAXY 179
[Xii]
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE INTRUDER ' lol
TIT FOR TAT lo2
SONG FOR A LITTLE HOUSE 185
THE PLUMPUPPETS 186
DANDY DANDELION IQO
THE HIGH CHAIR IQ^
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT 193
AUTUMN COLORS 197
THE LAST CRICKET I98
TO LOUISE 199
CHRISTMAS EVE 203
EPITAPH ON THE PROOFREADER OF THE
ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANNICA 204
THE MUSIC BOX , 205
TO LUATH 209
THOUGHTS ON REACHING LAND 212
A SYMPOSIUM 214
TO A TELEPHONE OPERATOR WHO HAS A
BAD COLD 218
NURSERY RHYMES FOR THE TENDER-HEARTED 219
THE TWINS 227
A printer's MADRIGAL 228
THE POET ON THE HEARTH 23O
O PRAISE ME NOT THE COUNTRY 23I
A STONE IN ST. PAUl's GRAVEYARD 235
THE MADONNA OF THE CURB 236
THE ISLAND 24O
[xiii]
CONTENTS
PAGE
SUNDAY NIGHT 242
ENGLAND, JULY, I913 246
CASUALTY 250
A GRUB STREET RECESSIONAL 25 1
PRELIMINARY INSTRUCTIONS FOR A FUNERAL
SERVICE 253
[xiv]
Illustrations
This hearth ivas built for thy delight — Frontispiece
PAGE
And by a friend's bright gift of ivine,
I dedicate this house of mine 23
And of all man's felicities — 33
A little ivorld he feels and sees:
His mother's arms, his mother's knees — 39
The 5:42 45
And Daddy once said he ivould like to be me
Ha'ving cocoa and animals once more for tea! 53
But hea'vy feeding complicates
The task by soiling many plates 59
Honjn ill avail, on such a frosty night 63
The old sivimmer 67
But Katie, the cook, is more splendid than all — 73
Perhaps it's a ragged child crying 77
The Balloon Peddler 83
// you appreciate it more
Than I — ivhy don't return it! 87
And then one night — 91
[XV]
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
The human cadence and the subtle chime
Of little laughters — 95
What years of youthful ills and pangs and bumps — loi
A Birthday 109
You must be rigid servant of your art! 123
You came, and impudent and deuce-niay-care
Danced ivhere the gutter flamed ivith footlight fire 127
Hostages 135
My eyes still pine for the comely line
Of an outbound vessel's hull 155
A man ain't so secretive, never cares
What kind of private papers he leaves lay — 165
Mounted Police 177
Courtesy 183
The Plumpuppets 187
. . . Ifs hard to have to tell
How unresponsive I have found her 195
. . . When you see, this Great First Time,
Lit candles on a Christmas Tree! 201
The music box 207
Solugubrious 215
In the midnight, like yourself,
I explore the pantry shelf! 221
The Tivins 227
praise me not the country 233
The ivail of sickly children — 237
Ah, does the butcher — heartless cloivn —
Beget that shadoiv on her brovuf 243
[xvi]
r^RimneVsmoke
r^RimneysmoKe
D
TO THE LITTLE HOUSE
EAR little house, dear shabby street,
Dear books and beds and food to eat I
How feeble words are to express
The facets of your tenderness.
How white the sun comes through the pane !
In tinkling music drips the rain!
How burning bright the furnace glows !
What paths to shovel when it snows I
O dearly loved Long Island trains!
O well remembered joys and pains. . . .
How near the housetops Beauty leans
Along that little street in Queens !
Let these poor rhymes abide for proof
Joy dwells beneath a humble roof;
Heaven is not built of country seats
But little queer suburban streets!
March, 1917.
[19]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
A GRACE BEFORE WRITING
THIS is a sacrament, I think!
Holding the bottle toward the light,
As blue as lupin gleams the ink;
May Truth be with me as I write I
That small dark cistern may afford
Reunion with some vanished friend, —
And with this ink I have just poured
May none but honest words be penned!
[20]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
DEDICATION FOR A FIREPLACE
T
HIS hearth was built for thy delight,
For thee the logs were sawn,
For thee the largest chair, at night,
Is to the chimney drawn.
For thee, dear lass, the match was lit
To yield the ruddy blaze — ■
May Jack Frost give us joy of it
For many, many days.
[21]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
TAKING TITLE
TO make this house my very own
Could not be done by law alone.
Though covenant and deed convey
Absolute fee, as lawyers say,
There are domestic rites beside
By which this house is sanctified.
By kindled fire upon the hearth,
By planted pansies in the garth.
By food, and by the quiet rest
Of those brown eyes that I love best,
And by a friend's bright gift of wine,
I dedicate this house of mine.
When all but I are soft abed
I trail about my quiet stead
A wreath of blue tobacco smoke
(A charm that evil never broke)
And bring my ritual to an end
By giving shelter to a friend.
These done, O dwelling, you become
Not just a house, but truly Home I
[22]
And by a friend's bright gift of wine,
I dedicate this house of mine.
CHIMNEYSMOKE
THE SECRET
IT was the House of Quietness
To which I came at dusk;
The garth was lit with roses
And heavy with their musk.
The tremulous tall poplar trees
Stood whispering around,
The gentle flicker of their plumes
More quiet than no sound.
And as I wondered at the door
What magic might be there,
The Lady of Sweet Silences
Came softly down the stair.
[2^;]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
ONLY A MATTER OF TIME
DOWN-SLIPPING Time, sweet, swift, and
shallow stream.
Here, like a boulder, lies this afternoon
Across your eager flow. So you shall stay,
Deepened and dammed, to let me breathe and be.
Your troubled fluency, your running gleam
Shall pause, and circle idly, still and clear:
The while I lie and search your glassy pool
Where, gently coiling in their lazy round,
Unseparable minutes drift and swim,
Eddy and rise and brim. And I will see
How many crystal bubbles of slack Time
The mind can hold and cherish in one Now!
Now, for one conscious vacancy of sense,
The stream is gathered in a deepening pond.
Not a mere moving mirror. Through the sharp
Correct reflection of the standing scene
The mind can dip, and cleanse itself with rest,
And see, slow spinning in the lucid gold.
Your liquid motes, imperishable Time.
[26]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
It cannot be. The runnel slips away:
The clear smooth downward sluice begins again,
More brightly slanting for that trembling pause,
Leaving the sense its conscious vague unease
As when a sonnet flashes on the mind,
Trembles and burns an instant, and is gone.
[27]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
AT THE MERMAID CAFETERIA
TRUTH is enough for prose:
Calmly it goes
To tell just what it knows.
For verse, skill will suffice —
Delicate, nice
Casting of verbal dice.
Poetry, men attain
By subtler pain
More flagrant in the brain —
An honesty unfeigned,
A heart unchained,
A madness well restrained.
[28]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
OUR HOUSE
IT should be yours, if I could build
The quaint old dwelling I desire,
With books and pictures bravely filled
And chairs beside an open fire,
White-panelled rooms with candles lit— ^
I lie awake to think of it!
A dial for the sunny hours,
A garden of old-fashioned flowers —
Say marigolds and lavender
And mignonette and fever-few.
And Judas-tree and maidenhair
And candytuft and thyme and rue —
All these for you to wander in.
A Chinese carp (called Mandarin)
Waving a sluggish silver fin
Deep in the moat : so tame he comes
To lip your fingers offering crumbs.
Tall chimneys, like long listening ears,
White shutters, ivy green and thick.
And walls of ruddy Tudor brick
Grown mellow with the passing years.
[29]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
And windows with small leaded panes,
Broad window-seats for when it rains;
A big blue bowl of pot pourri
And — ^yes, a Spanish chestnut tree
To coin the autumn's minted gold.
A summer house for drinking tea —
All these (just think!) for you and me.
A staircase of the old black wood
Cut in the days of Robin Hood,
And banisters worn smooth as glass
Down which your hand will lightly pass;
A piano with pale yellow keys
For wistful twilight melodies,
And dusty bottles in a bin —
All these for you to revel in!
But when^ Ah well, until that time
We'll habit in this house of rhyme.
1912
[30]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
ON NAMING A HOUSE
w
HEN I a householder became
I had to give my house a name.
I thought I'd call it "Poplar Trees,"
Or "Widdershins" or "Velvet Bees,"
Or "Just Beneath a Star."
I thought of "House Where Plumbings
Freeze,"
Or "As You Like it," "If You Please,"
Or "Nicotine" or "Bread and Cheese,"
"Full Moon" or "Doors Ajar."
But still I sought some subtle charm.
Some rune to guard my roof from harm
And keep the devil far ;
I thought of this, and I was saved!
I had my letter-heads engraved
The House Where Brown Eyes Are.
[31]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
A HALLOWE'EN MEMORY
DO you remember, Heart's Desire,
The night when Hallowe'en first earned
The newly dedicated fire.
The hearth unsanctified by flame*?
How anxiously we swept the bricks
(How tragic, were the draught not right!)
And then the blaze enwrapped the sticks
And filled the room with dancing light.
We could not speak, but only gaze.
Nor half believe what we had seen —
Our home, our hearth, our golden blaze,
Our cider mugs, our Hallowe'en !
And then a thought occurred to me —
We ran outside with sudden shout
And looked up at the roof, to see
Our own dear smoke come drifting out.
And of all man's felicities
The very subtlest one, say I,
Is when, for the first time, he sees
His hearthfire smoke against the sky.
[32]
„>-* o **.>»•» W
^w^ o/ flZZ man's felicities
The very subtlest one, say I,
Is when, for the first tvrne, he sees
His hearthfire smoJce against the sky.
CHIMNEYSMOKE
REFUSING YOU IMMORTALITY
IF I should tell, unstinted,
Your beauty and your grace,
All future lads would whisper
Traditions of your face;
If I made public tumult
Your mirth, your queenly state.
Posterity would grumble
That it was born too late.
I will not frame your beauty
In bright undying phrase.
Nor blaze it as a legend
For unborn men to praise —
For why should future lovers
Be saddened and depressed^
Deluded, let them fancy
Their own girls loveliest I
[35]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
BAYBERRY CANDLES
DEAR sweet, when dusk comes up the hill,
The fire leaps high with golden prongs;
I place along the chimneysill
The tiny candles of my songs.
And though unsteadily they burn.
As evening shades from gray to blue
Like candles they will surely learn
To shine more clear, for love of you.
[36]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
SECRET LAUGHTER
"I had a secret laughter."
— Walter de la Mare.
THERE is a secret laughter
That often comes to me,
And though I go about my work
As humble as can be,
There is no prince or prelate
I envy — no, not one.
No evil can befall me —
By God, I have a son I
[37]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
SIX WEEKS OLD
HE is so small, he does not know
The summer sun, the winter snow :
The spring that ebbs and comes again.
All this is far beyond his ken.
A little world he feels and sees:
His mother's arms, his mother's knees;
He hides his face against her breast,
And does not care to learn the rest.
[38]
A little world he feels and sees:
His mother's arms, his mother's knees-
CHIMNEYSMOKE
A CHARM
For Our New Fireplace,
To Stop Its Smoking
OWOOD, burn bright; O flame, be quick;
O smoke, draw cleanly up the flue —
My lady chose your every brick
And sets her dearest hopes on you!
Logs cannot burn, nor tea be sweet.
Nor white bread turn to crispy toast.
Until the charm be made complete
By love, to lay the sooty ghost.
And then, dear books, dear waiting chairs,
Dear china and mahogany.
Draw close, for on the happy stairs
My brown-eyed girl comes down for teal
C41]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
MY PIPE
MY PIPE is old
And caked with soot;
My wife remarks:
"How can you put
That horrid relic,
So unclean,
Inside your mouth?
The nicotine
Is strong enough
To stupefy
A Swedish plumber."
I reply:
"This is the kind
Of pipe I like :
I fill it full
Of Happy Strike,
Or Barking Cat
Or Cabman's Puff,
Or Brooklyn Bridge
(That potent stuff)
Or Chaste Embraces,
Knacker's Twist,
Old Honeycomb
Or Niggerfist.
[42]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
I clamp my teeth
Upon its stem —
It is my bliss,
My diadem.
Whatever Fate
May do to me,
This is my favorite
B
B B.
For this dear pipe
You feign to scorn
I smoked the night
The boy was born."
r43]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
THE 5:42
LILAC, violet, and rose
Ardently the city glows;
Sunset glory, purely sweet.
Gilds the dreaming byway-street,
And, above the Avenue,
Winter dusk is deepening blue.
(Then, across Long Island meadows.
Darker, darker, grow the shadows:
Patience, little waiting lass!
Laggard minutes slowly pass;
Patience, laughs the yellow fire:
Homeward bound is heart's desire!)
Hark, adown the canyon street
Flows the merry tide of feet;
High the golden buildings loom
Blazing in the purple gloom;
All the town is set with stars.
Homeward chant the Broadway cars!
[44]
The 5:42
CHIMNEYSMOKE
All down Thirty-second Street
Homexuard^ Ho??ieward^ say the feet!
Tramping men, uncouth to view,
Footsore, weary, thrill anew;
Gone the ringing telephones,
Blessed nightfall now atones.
Casting brightness on the snow
Golden the train windows go.
Then (how long it seems) at last
All the way is overpast.
Heart that beats your muffled drum,
Lo, your venturer is come !
Wide the door! Leap high, O fire!
Home at length is heart's desire!
Gone is weariness and fret,
At the sill warm lips are met.
Once again may be renewed
The conjoined beatitude.
[47]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
PETER PAN
"The boy for whom Barrie wrote Peter Pan —
the original of Peter Pan — has died in battle."
— New York Times.
A
ND Peter Pan is dead? Not so!
When mothers turn the lights down
low
And tuck their little sons in bed,
They know that Peter is not dead. . . .
That little rounded blanket-hill;
Those prayer-time eyes, so deep and still —
However wise and great a man
He grows, he still is Peter Pan.
And mothers' ways are often queer:
They pause in doorways, just to hear
A tiny breathing; think a prayer;
And then go tiptoe down the stair.
I48]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
IN HONOR OF TAFFY TOPAZ
TAFFY, the topaz-colored cat,
Thinks now of this and now of that,
But chiefly of his meals.
Asparagus, and cream, and fish,
Are objects of his Freudian wish;
What you don't give, he steals.
His gallant heart is strongly stirred
By clink of plate or flight of bird.
He has a plumy tail;
At night he treads on stealthy pad
As merry as Sir Galahad
A-seeking of the Grail.
His amiable amber eyes
Are very friendly, very wise;
Like Buddha, grave and fat.
He sits, regardless of applause.
And thinking, as he kneads his paws,
What fun to be a cat I
[49]
H
CHIMNEYSMOKE
THE CEDAR CHEST
ER mind is like her cedar chest
Wherein in quietness do rest
The wistful dreamings of her heart
In fragrant folds all laid apart.
There, put away in sprigs of rhyme
Until her life's full blossom-time,
Flutter (like tremulous little birds)
Her small and sweet maternal words.
[50]
o
CHIMNEYSMOKE
READING ALOUD
NCE we read Tennyson aloud
In our great fireside chair;
Between the lines, my lips could touch
Her April-scented hair.
How very fond I was, to think
The printed poems fair,
When close within my arms I held
A living lyric there!
[51]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
ANIMAL CRACKERS
ANIMAL crackers, and cocoa to drink,
That is the finest of suppers, I think;
When I'm grown up and can have what I please
I think I shall always insist upon these.
What do you choose when you're offered a treat'?
When Mother says, "W^hat would you like best
to eat?'
Is it waffles and syrup, or cinnamon toast"?
It's cocoa and animals that I love most!
The kitchen's the cosiest place that I know :
The kettle is singing, the stove is aglow.
And there in the twilight, how jolly to see
The cocoa and animals waiting for me.
Daddy and Mother dine later in state,
With Mary to cook for them, Susan to wait;
But they don't have nearly as much fun as I
Who eat in the kitchen with Nurse standing by;
And Daddy once said, he would like to be me
Having cocoa and animals once more for tea I
[52]
f rtO/Vi/l3 f^06-AR1-V
And Daddy once said he would like to he me
Having cocoa and animals once more for tea!
CHIMNEYSMOKE
THE MILKMAN
EARLY in the morning, when the dawn is on
the roofs,
You hear his wheels come rolling, you hear his
horse's hoofs;
You hear the bottles clinking, and then he drives
away :
You yawn in bed, turn over, and begin another
day I
The old-time dairy maids are dear to every poet's
heart —
I'd rather be the dairy man and drive a little cart.
And bustle round the village in the early morning
blue.
And hang my reins upon a hook, as I've seen
Casey do.
[55]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
LIGHT VERSE
AT night the gas lamps light our street,
Electric bulbs our homes;
The gas is billed in cubic feet,
Electric light in ohms.
But one illumination still
Is brighter far, and sweeter;
It is not figured in a bill,
Nor measured by a meter.
More bright than lights that money buys.
More pleasing to discerners,
The shining lamps of Helen's eyes,
Those lovely double burners I
[56]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
THE FURNACE
AT night I opened
The furnace door:
The warm glow brightened
The cellar floor.
The fire that sparkled
Blue and red,
Kept small toes cosy
In their bed.
As up the stair
So late I stole,
I said my prayer:
Thank God for coal!
[?7]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
WASHING THE DISHES
WHEN we on simple rations sup
How easy is the washing up !
But heavy feeding complicates
The task by soiling many plates.
And though I grant that I have prayed
That we might find a serving-maid,
I'd scullion all my days, I think,
To see Her smile across the sink!
I wash, She wipes. In water hot
I souse each dish and pan and pot;
While Taffy mutters, purrs, and begs,
And rubs himself against my legs.
The man who never in his life
Has washed the dishes with his wife
Or polished up the silver plate —
He still is largely celibate.
One warning: there is certain ware
That must be handled with all care:
The Lord Himself will give you up
If you should drop a willow cup!
[58]
But heafoy feeding complicates
The task by soiling many plates.
CHIMNEYSMOKE
THE CHURCH OF UNBENT KNEES
AS I went by the church to-day
I heard the organ cry;
And goodly folk were on their knees,
But I went striding by.
My minster hath a roof more vast :
My aisles are oak trees high;
My altar-cloth is on the hills,
My organ is the sky.
I see my rood upon the clouds,
The winds, my chanted choir;
My crystal windows, heaven-glazed.
Are stained with sunset fire.
The stars, the thunder, and the rain.
White sands and purple seas —
These are His pulpit and His pew.
My God of Unbent Knees I
[61]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY
COAL-BIN
THE furnace tolls the knell of falling
steam,
The coal supply is virtually done,
And at this price, indeed it does not seem
As though we could afford another ton.
Now fades the glossy, cherished anthracite;
The radiators lose their temperature:
How ill avail, on such a frosty night,
The "short and simple flannels of the poor."
Though in the icebox, fresh and newly laid,
The rude forefathers of the omelet sleep,
No eggs for breakfast till the bill is paid :
We cannot cook again till coal is cheap.
Can Morris-chair or papier-mache bust
Revivify the failing pressure-gauge"?
Chop up the grand piano if you must.
And burn the East Aurora parrot-cage!
[62]
How ill avail, on such a frosty night.
CHIMNEYSMOKE
Full many a can of purest kerosene
The dark unfathomed tanks of Standard Oil
Shall furnish me, and with their aid I mean
To bring my morning coffee to a boil.
[6^]
I
CHIMNEYSMOKE
THE OLD SWIMMER
OFTEN wander on the beach
Where once, so brown of limb,
The biting air, the roaring surf
Summoned me to swim.
I see my old abundant youth
Where combers lean and spill.
And though I taste the foam no more
Other swimmers will.
Oh, good exultant strength to meet
The arching wall of green,
To break the crystal, swirl, emerge
Dripping, taut, and clean.
To climb the moving hilly blue.
To dive in ecstasy
And feel the salty chill embrace
Arm and rib and knee.
What brave and vanished laughter then
And tingling thighs to run,
[66]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
What warm and comfortable sands
Dreaming in the sun.
The crumbling water spreads in snow,
The surf is hissing still,
And though I kiss the salt no more
Other swimmers will.
[69]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
THE MOON-SHEEP
THE moon seems like a docile sheep,
She pastures while all people sleep;
But sometimes, when she goes astray,
She wanders all alone by day.
Up in the clear blue morning air
We are surprised to see her there.
Grazing in her woolly white,
Waiting the return of night.
When dusk lets down the meadow bars
She greets again her lambs, the stars!
[70]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
SMELLS
WHY is it that the poets tell
So little of the sense of smells
These are the odors I love well:
The smell of coffee freshly ground;
Or rich plum pudding, holly crowned;
Or onions fried and deeply browned.
The fragrance of a fumy pipe;
The smell of apples, newly ripe;
And printers' ink on leaden type.
Woods by moonlight in September
Breathe most sweet; and I remember
Many a smoky camp-fire ember.
Camphor, turpentine, and tea,
The balsam of a Christmas tree,
These are whiffs of gramarye. . .
A ship smells best of all to me!
[71]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
SMELLS (JUNIOR)
MY Daddy smells like tobacco and books,
Mother, like lavender and listerine;
Uncle John carries a whiff of cigars,
Nannie smells starchy and soapy and clean.
Shandy, my dog, has a smell of his own
(When he's been out in the rain he smells
most) ;
But Katie, the cook, is more splendid than all —
She smells exactly like hot buttered toast!
[72]
But Katie, the cook, is more splendid than all —
CHIMNEYSMOKE
MAR QUONG, CHINESE LAUNDRYMAN
T LIKE the Chinese laundryman:
A He smokes a pipe that bubbles,
And seems, as far as I can tell,
A man with but few troubles.
He has much to do, no doubt,
But also much to think about.
Most men (for instance I myself)
Are spending, at all times.
All our hard-earned quarters.
Our nickels and our dimes:
With Mar Quong it's the other way —
He takes in small change every day.
Next time you call for collars
In his steamy little shop,
Observe how tight his pigtail
Is coiled and piled on top.
But late at night he lets it hang
And thinks of the Yang-tse-kiang.
[75]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
THE FAT LITTLE PURSE
ON Saturdays, after the baby
Is bathed, fed, and sleeping serene,
His mother, as quickly as may be.
Arranges the household routine.
She rapidly makes herself pretty
And leaves the young limb with his nurse,
Then gaily she starts for the city.
And with her the fat little purse.
She trips through the crowd at the station,
To the rendezvous spot where we meet,
And keeping her eyes from temptation.
She avoids the most windowy street!
She is off for the Weekly Adventure;
To her comrade for better and worse
She says, "Never mind, when you've spent your
Last bit, here's the fat little purse."
Apart, in her thrifty exchequer,
She has hidden what must not be spent:
Enough for the butcher and baker,
Katie's wages, and milkman, and rent;
[76]
Perhaps ifs a ragged child crying
CHIMNEY SMOKE
But the rest of her brave little treasure
She is gleeful and prompt to disburse —
What a richness of innocent pleasure
Can come from her fat little purse !
But either by giving or buying,
The little purse does not stay fat —
Perhaps it's a ragged child crying,
Perhaps it's a "pert little hat."
And the bonny brown eyes that were brightened
By pleasures so quaint and diverse.
Look up at me, wistful and frightened,
To see such a thin little purse.
The wisest of all financiering
Is that which is done by our wives:
By some little known profiteering
They add twos and twos and make fives;
And, husband, if you would be learning
The secret of thrift, it is terse:
Invest the great part of your earning
In her little, fat little purse.
[79]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
THE REFLECTION
(To N. B. D.)
I HAVE not heard her voice, nor seen her
face,
Nor touched her hand;
And yet some echo of her woman's grace
I understand.
I have no picture of her lovelihood,
Her smile, her tint;
But that she is both beautiful and good
I have true hint.
In all that my friend thinks and says, I see
Her mirror true;
His thought of her is gentle ; she must be
All gentle too.
In all his grief or laughter, work or play,
Each mood and whim.
How brave and tender, day by common day.
She speaks through him!
[80]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
Therefore I say I know her, be her face
Or dark or fair —
For when he shows his heart's most secret place
I see her there !
[8i]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
THE BALLOON PEDDLER
WHO is the man on Chestnut street
With colored toy balloons^
I see him with his airy freight
On sunny afternoons —
A peddler of such lovely goods !
The heart leaps to behold
His mass of bubbles, red and green
And blue and pink and gold.
For sure that noble peddler man
Hath antic merchandise:
His toys that float and swim in air
Attract my eager eyes.
Perhaps he is a changeling prince
Bewitched through magic moons
To tempt us solemn busy folk
With meaningless balloons.
Beware, oh, valiant merchantman,
Tread cautious on the pave!
Lest some day come some realist,
Some haggard soul and grave,
[82]
rHo-^A* t^a<5 fi.T^ -rV
The Balloon Peddler
CHIMNEYSMOKE
A puritan efficientist
Who deems thy toys a sin —
He'll stalk thee madly from behind
And prick them with a pin I
rs?]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
LINES FOR AN ECCENTRIC'S
BOOK PLATE
TO use my books all friends are bid :
My shelves are open for 'em;
And in each one, as Grolier did,
I write Et Amicorum.
All lovely things in truth belong
To him who best employs them;
The house, the picture and the song
Are his who most enjoys them.
Perhaps this book holds precious lore,
And you may best discern it.
If you appreciate it more
Than I — why don't return it I
[86]
// you appreciate it more
Than I — why don't return it!
CHIMNEYSMOKE
TO A POST-OFFICE INKWELL
HOW many humble hearts have dipped
In you, and scrawled their manuscript!
Have shared their secrets, told their cares,
Their curious and quaint affairs!
Your pool of ink, your scratchy pen.
Have moved the lives of unborn men,
And watched young people, breathing hard,
Put Heaven on a postal card.
[89]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
THE CRIB
I SOUGHT immortality
Here and there —
I sent my rockets
Into the air :
I gave my name
A hostage to ink;
I dined a critic
And bought him drink.
I spurned the weariness
Of the flesh;
Denied fatigue
And began afresh —
If men knew all,
How they would laugh I
I even planned
My epitaph. . . .
And then one night
When the dusk was thin
I heard the nursery
Rites begin:
[90]
And then one night
When the dusk was thin
I heard the nursery
Rites begin —
CHIMNEYSMOKE
I heard the tender
Soothings said
Over a crib, and
A small sweet head.
Then in a flash
It came to me
That there was my
Immortality I
[93]
CHIMNEYSMOKE
THE POET
THE barren music of a word or phrase,
The futile arts of syllable and stress,
He sought. The poetry of common days
He did not guess.
The simplest, sweetest rhythms life affords —
Unselfish love, true effort truly done,
The tender themes that underlie all words^
He knew not one.
The human cadence and the subtle chime
Of little laughters, home and child and wife,
He knew not. Artist merely in his rhyme,
Not in his life.
[94]
The human cadence and the subtle chime
Of little laughters — ■
CHIMNEYSMOKE
TO A DISCARDED MIRROR
snEq lavlia luo^ aio^sd (28bI§ HAS^T"
liiBd i3fl bnaj oJ b^zu \b^[ ^M VJL
niijv ni oaib luo^ rlaiBaa I 1^3^ bnA
.3i3flj i3fl ^o wobfiHa smoa bnfi oT
,}ff§i7^ ^ *•-» a" ^
' "0,1* ^ ^. *-'^T7^* .G^ ^ '*> • "^ " v'^ <>
• .(
0°
^ . « •
^oV^
^U^c,''
-^-^^v
^r. <-^'
A
"^h^
'^0
'^o .^*.tj^>V /.c:^.^^o .^^-1^%^-^ co^
'^OV^
'•^-o^'';»'J^oiv^'i9]
«J^^
.^^
^^'^
'..': 'Willi
;;t.'l