* 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