n 
 
 CopjiightiN" /^/^ 
 
 CfiPflilGHT DEPOSm 
 
POEMS PRIMAL 
 
POEMS PRIMAti 
 
 CHARLES ROSS WHITE 
 
 Copyright 1916. by Charles Ross White 
 
 PORTI.AND, ME. 
 THE SEAVEY COMPANY 
 
 1916 
 

 
 ^C1.A445597 
 
INDEX 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Sleeping Beauty 1 
 
 When Baby Runs the Town 2 
 
 The Sweets of Life 3 
 
 Bo-Peep 4 
 
 Spring Days 5 
 
 Waylands , 6 
 
 Green Fields and Laughing Waters 8 
 
 A Moonlight Night 10 
 
 The Voice of Nature 11 
 
 The Spirit of the Woods 12 
 
 Evolution 13 
 
 Red Adam's Clay 15 
 
 Love and Nature 17 
 
 Love's Dream 19 
 
 Elene 21 
 
 Love's Eden 22 
 
 Heart Music 24 
 
 Memories Dear 25 
 
 Sweetheart 26 
 
 Love for Love 28 
 
 Love's Plea 39 
 
 Love's Sway 40 
 
 Love 42 
 
 New Year Bells 43 
 
 When Love Was Born 46 
 
 Love's World 47 
 
 A Speaking Likeness 52 
 
PAGE 
 
 Martial Hosts 53 
 
 His Last Battle Won 56 
 
 The Gods of War 57 
 
 One More War 59 
 
 Toil and Moil 60 
 
 Brothers-in-Arms 65 
 
 Peace 66 
 
 Worldwise 67 
 
 Knickerbocker 69 
 
 Old Time Hymns 71 
 
 Peaceful 78 
 
 Fishing Days 79 
 
 All Ashore Farming 85 
 
 Back to the Land 89 
 
 Hail Columbia 94 
 
 The Back Country Member 96 
 
 U. S 98 
 
 History Making 99 
 
 The Everyday Man 101 
 
 Pot Luck 103 
 
 Church Circles 107 
 
 God's Acre 108 
 
 Economical Religions 109 
 
 Hydrostatically 112 
 
 Dialectual 115 
 
 Extremes Meet 116 
 
 It 118 
 
 First Medals 121 
 
 The Solution of It 127 
 
POEMS PRI3IAI. 
 
SLEEPING BEAUTY 
 
 Pensive as a fairy lily 
 
 On a stem of gold ; 
 Nodding as a primrose, primly, 
 
 To old Boreas bold. 
 
 Golden-hearted, saintly lily, 
 Pale as cloistered nun. 
 
 Sunny petals lifting shyly 
 To the tropic sun. 
 
 Every petal lifting shyly. 
 Fast as spring declares. 
 
 Every sleeping beauty waking 
 Into beauty unawares. 
 
WHEN BABY RUNS THE TOWN 
 
 Like burly, golden bumble-bees, 
 All cloyed with sweets of June, 
 
 Hear everywhere the babies dear, 
 How they buzz a merry tune. 
 
 And we kiss them for their mothers. 
 And we pinch them for their dad ; 
 
 And they will live to jolly us, 
 When we are old and sad. 
 
 They'll pay us back with interest, 
 
 When things turn upside down- 
 In Topsy-Turvey land, you know, 
 When Baby runs the town. 
 
THE SWEETS OF LIFE 
 
 Baby Blue's sweet google goos. 
 
 Persisting through the realms of time; 
 And standing tests of centuries. 
 
 Prove love a thing sublime. 
 
 Each tiny stranger from the sky, 
 With its red ruby heart. 
 
 Is a fairy golden treasure — 
 A God's gift, at the start. 
 
 They play upon our heart-strings, 
 Voicing their sweetest tone ; 
 
 A part of every impulse, 
 
 And the charm that makes sweet home. 
 
BO-PEEP 
 
 Sweet baby eyes 'neath curly locks, 
 All golden lights and azure blue; 
 
 With smiles and kisses wavering near 
 Between enchanting dimples two. 
 
 Old lovers true attend each wish, 
 Accounting every tiny pain ; 
 
 Construing every cry a wish. 
 And every wish a duty plain. 
 
 Thus queening royal till the end ; 
 
 Until from out your cradle-throne 
 You creep on hands and knees, Bo-peep, 
 
 A-worshiping a world of stone. 
 
SPRING DAYS 
 
 The bees are in the clover, 
 
 The year is in the dawn. 
 There's an ever rousing chorus 
 
 When spring-time's moving on. 
 
 It sets all nature humming 
 
 With the sap of things that bloom; 
 It fills the constitution, 
 
 And crowds for elbow room. 
 
 It bubbles in a chorus, 
 With joyful cantatations, 
 
 A-flooding heavenly musicales 
 With soulful recitations. 
 
WAYLANDS 
 
 White, fleecy clouds, they sail the sky 
 Like blossom of its trees. 
 
 Its orchards old instilling sweets 
 On every evening breeze. 
 
 Grey walls of stone, and mossy grown, 
 From hills to dale wind down, 
 
 Through shaded walks and forest paths, 
 In sylvan metres bound. 
 
 Old forest trails o'er hill and dale 
 A-meeting plain and wold; 
 
 O'er logging roads of corduroy, 
 And bridges centuries old. 
 
A fairy circle charmed by winds, 
 And of the whisperin^^ pine; 
 
 O'er tree-to|.is of a forest old, 
 Meeting a blue sky-line. 
 
 Where Present and the Past link hands 
 Above a wilderness of pine. 
 
 A forest fastness breathing peace. 
 Through sylvan shades of Time. 
 
GREEN FIELDS AND LAUGHING 
 WATERS 
 
 Bright days of sunny memories ; 
 
 Red days 'tween the earth and sky; 
 When the green earth held high revelry, 
 
 And never a day went by 
 
 Without some sweeter flower born, 
 
 Some new joy, 'neath the sky 
 Wrapt in a dainty violet shade, 
 
 Or a rose-bloom nearer by. 
 
 The trees kissed low the river's brim, 
 
 And, arching strand to strand. 
 Long tendrils green they flowered between, 
 
 Embowering all the land : 
 
Through rocky basins flecked with foam, 
 Brown, rippHng- waters spanned 
 
 In eddying currents, silvery threads 
 Fretting a golden strand. 
 
 Green, mossy boulders tip'd the stream; 
 
 Green hills, above the din 
 In peaceful calm stretched out their arms, 
 
 To let the waters in. 
 
 And lowly kine, knee-deep in June, 
 They contentedly abide. 
 
 Reflecting their docile faces 
 In the glowing water side. 
 
A MOONLIGHT NIGHT 
 
 The moon dips low o'er a silvery sea, 
 
 In a silvery pathway bright ; 
 A-lighting the dark pines' towering shade, 
 
 A-qneening the starry night. 
 
 O'er mossy banks and wide lagoons 
 Its starry pathway gleams ; 
 
 And in and ont, in starry maze, 
 Shuttle its pale moonbeams. 
 
 Its starry pathv/ay to the sky, 
 
 Sinks seas and heaven in one- 
 One glorious, iridescent world- 
 Till the risins: of the sun. 
 
 10 
 
THE VOICE OF NATURE 
 
 The tongues of brooks and rushing- seas; 
 
 The soni^s of birds 'mid whispering trees ; 
 The low winds murmuring o'er the leas; 
 
 Love's voice is these. 
 
 In spring-time, when the world's attune ; 
 
 When red life paints the rosy June; 
 Love's eloquence and nature's wed, 
 
 Breathes through the air, through words unsaid. 
 
 11 
 
THE SPIRIT OF THE WOODS 
 
 The spirit of the woods shuts down 
 
 Upon the heart of man ; 
 Spell-binding by its solitudes. 
 
 That deeper mysteries span; 
 
 Spell-binding by its whispering pines, 
 
 Their wavering interludes 
 A-joining with the singing stars, 
 
 In mvstic solitudes: 
 
 A-joining with the singing stars 
 That shine above its crest ; 
 
 While, deep within its underworld, 
 A spirit sits, possessed; 
 
 12 
 
Possessed by day-dream glories, 
 And loving the solitudes. 
 
 And knowing no other spirit 
 But the Spirit of the Woods. 
 
 EVOLUTION 
 
 Once a cloven hoof did leave on earth 
 
 A beastlike trail behind. 
 A hairy coat shut darkness in. 
 
 And blinded human mind. 
 
 Then ministering angels came ; 
 
 Crowned darkness with a star; 
 Upraised black lids from beastliness, 
 
 To shining worlds afar. 
 
 13 
 
Then Woman's voice stole sweetly in, 
 
 Adown a sunbeam's ray ; 
 And charmed life woke to nobleness — 
 
 To a sweeter minstrelsy. 
 
 Through waving, musical, reed w^orlds, 
 Love's flute-like voice encharmed ; 
 
 Upraised mankind from beastliness, 
 Black nether worlds disarmed. 
 
 A brighter Venus — heavenly star — 
 
 On mortals did attend ; 
 Upraised the standard of the world. 
 
 And reclaimed the sons of men. 
 
 14 
 
RED ADAM'S CLAY 
 
 Life passes in a fitful dream, 
 Between dark seas of time. 
 
 It knows the sloughs of deep despond, 
 And the lees of life's red wine. 
 
 It roots to live in fleshly joys ; 
 
 It reaches to the skies. 
 It's past and lost : it's light, benight ; 
 
 Its prayers to heaven are lies. 
 
 It loves its rosy, red loves best — 
 
 Its angels in disguise. 
 It towers, and it bows to earth : 
 
 Knows good, and bad denies. 
 
 15 
 
It's made of clay — Red Adam's clay. 
 
 It seeks its level own. 
 Its spirit wings are weighted down 
 
 To the marrow of its bone. 
 
 Its vital red heart living ends, 
 Rejects the ways divine. 
 
 Rejoices in the ways of earth, 
 And kindred with its kind. 
 
 16 
 
LOVE AND NATURE 
 
 I met Love as a thing apart — 
 A part of heaven and the rose 
 
 A spirit of light, and infinite, 
 And above all human pose. 
 
 I wooed Love on the ocean wave. 
 And 'mid the eternal hills; 
 
 In forest lands, and desert lands, 
 And by the dancing rills. 
 
 It cloistered in the honeyed sweets 
 Of clover fields and flowering leas; 
 
 With song-birds caroling at morn, 
 And on the evening breeze. 
 
 17 
 
'Neath sun and moon I glorified 
 And worshipped every mood; 
 
 It brightened all my wanderings 
 By pictured stream and wood. 
 
 At home it sat beside me. 
 In woodland and in dell ; 
 
 Beloved mentor of my dreams — 
 Sweet dreams no words can tell. 
 
 18 
 
LOVE'S DREAM 
 
 When Love was born, of the stars and flowers, 
 
 It opened all my heart attune 
 To every beauty 'neath the sun — 
 
 Like roses of vour cheeks abloom. 
 
 Like roses of your cheeks abloom, 
 That, lily-like, links starry morn 
 
 With golden hours and sunny days — 
 Red-letter days, of love and song. 
 
 The blue of summer skies your eyes, 
 Above an Eden's rosy ring 
 
 Of rosy lips — like roses red — 
 Bespeaking love that angels sing. 
 
 19 
 
Your youth, all framed in hair of gold, 
 Enraptured by its visage bright ; 
 
 Enlightens all my days with joy, 
 And glorifies the darkest night. 
 
 Though continent and seas between ; 
 
 Though hills and plains they intervene ; 
 They cannot separate true hearts, 
 
 Or dim the vision of love's dream. 
 
 20 
 
ELENE 
 
 In other worlds than this, Elene, 
 We met as star and night ; 
 
 You were the star, and I the gloom 
 That only brightened in your sight. 
 
 That little dimple in yonr chin 
 "The angels kissed," you say. 
 
 I do not question it, Elene, — 
 If angels kiss that way. 
 
 We'll drink to love in loving cup, 
 And, while the glasses ring, 
 
 We'll chorus all your charms, Elene, 
 As only lovers sing. 
 
 21 
 
LOVE'S EDEN 
 
 We lived in Eden once, my darling; 
 
 We called it heaven, home, or any name ; 
 Whatever angel hosts its precincts guarding, 
 
 However named, 'twas heaven all the same. 
 
 The bliss of young love's wondrous gladness ; 
 
 The first love's kiss that ever young love knew 
 The bitter-sweets of love — their added contrast 
 
 But gilded every blissful love anew. 
 
 The seas and hills reflected every gladness ; 
 
 The heart of nature, loving, one and one. 
 Love mingled with the elements its gladness. 
 
 Nor cloud did dim the splendor of the sun. 
 
 23 
 
The bliss of lovins^ showed in blissful oneness; 
 
 The bitter-sweets of waiting and decline, 
 Ne'er lost, bnt i^ained a double, heaping measure, 
 
 Filled to the sparkling brim with life's red wine. 
 
 The home-life — ever better than Parnassus; 
 
 The baby prattlers scrambling at my knee ; 
 Their baby hugs encircling heaven around us. 
 
 Make heaven on earth one sweet reality. 
 
 What mockery, then, a Paradise or Eden 
 Here where we found our Eden every time? 
 
 Xot in the cloud-land were its glories hidden, 
 But at our feet our Eden shone sublime. 
 
 23 
 
HEART MUSIC 
 
 The music of the heart one voice 
 Blends with the choirs above ; 
 
 The Choir Invisible, and sweet. 
 Bespeaking realms of love. 
 
 Sweet voices guard its minstrelsy 
 
 Above all mortal wrong ; 
 And angels' wings ensweep its strings 
 
 Into immortal sons:. 
 
 Winging on flames of heavenly light, 
 
 Into one immortal lay ; 
 Its melodies celestial borne 
 
 Into a golden day. 
 
 24 
 
MEMORIES DEAR 
 
 Sweet memories that on the winds. 
 All laden with a mystic glow 
 
 From fields of violet and rose, 
 Bring sweets of the long ago. 
 
 Lighting the toil of latter days ; 
 
 Crowning the battles won ; 
 Helping the homely tasks of life, 
 
 Until life's day is done. 
 
 25 
 
SWEETHEART 
 
 Your hair, the way I Hke it best, 
 
 Is woven in a web of gold; 
 Your eyes, deep wells o'er brimming 
 
 With loveliness untold. 
 
 Your most Grecian nose, patrician, 
 Short upper lip, that speaks a kiss ; 
 
 And a delight and pleasure in it 
 Ne'er commiserating earthly bliss. 
 
 Call it "friend" then, at your pleasure. 
 
 I'll act the part sweetheart begun ; 
 Any part — a friend or sweetheart — 
 
 To be at your side as one. 
 
 26 
 
Warmed with kisses 'neath the stars; 
 
 With red love to overflow ; 
 All the barriers cast down — 
 
 In friendships name, yon know. 
 
 If your love had guided me 
 In and out the portal straight, 
 
 Into the promised land I touched- 
 Then love had conquered fate. 
 
 27 
 
LOVE FOR LOVE 
 
 A mountainous and rushing river, 
 Then lake and river in a mirror, 
 Reflecting peace forever, ever, 
 Till their crystal waters gather, 
 Warring, tempest toss'd. 
 
 Walled by mountains and deep wood, 
 In a sylvan solitude ; 
 In a haven of the blest ; 
 And gathering to its sheltering breast 
 The wrecked and lost. 
 
 Sea lines meeting to the sky. 
 
 Where the white-winged ships go by, 
 
 Tossing on the foaming wave 
 
 28 
 
That their dipping pinions lave ; 
 SaiHng on, and on. 
 
 And ever, high above the storm, 
 Over the sea and land is borne 
 White signals, waving sea and land, 
 And answering signals, strand to strand, 
 From eve till morn. 
 
 Shrouded mists that wind alone 
 Wherever mystic waters moan ; 
 Wherever hapless spirits fled ; 
 Wherever ceaseless requiems said, 
 O'er deeps, forlorn. 
 
 Wherever speech and song are stilled. 
 The master mind, the bold and skilled. 
 
 29 
 
The eloquent, and stammering, tongue, 
 Behind the veil they rest as one, 
 Until the dawn. 
 
 Now seas, the color of the rose, 
 A rosy dawn, a golden close ; 
 For love has list, the lovers say 
 And, hesitating, lost its way, 
 As young love will. 
 
 Red love that blinder vision brings; 
 But, freed from dross of worldly things, 
 When love its way, 
 Holds love ensway, 
 As young love will. 
 
 30 
 
Red love, that very page at knee, 
 Lifting a roving eye, can see, 
 Surprising my lady's love. 
 Such her plumings — like a dove — 
 To catch love's eye. 
 
 No damsel making love a jest; 
 But having instincts of the blest. 
 Enjoying capture, love the goal; 
 And building castles, heart and soul, 
 From lover's sigh. 
 
 Rosy, saintly, tempting fate; 
 Arousing barbarous deeds of hate; 
 The saintlier, bloodier wars endured, 
 The lovelier, sweeter spoils assured, 
 As in days of old. 
 
 31 
 
Light-hearted, filled with joyous song, 
 While lovers, battling brave and strong 
 For virgin love, the strongest dare ; 
 Only the brave deserve the fair, 
 Her virgin gold. 
 
 The brave and loyal knight, and true, 
 The broke and prosperous, two by two ; 
 Bravely they wheel and meet; 
 Bravely they kneel at feet, 
 Till their love's told. 
 
 As the lover ever kneels, 
 Swearing all the love he feels. 
 By her saintly image roused. 
 Fresh from wassail and carouse. 
 He pleads to heaven. 
 
 32 
 
Red-handed vassals of rapine, 
 Their panoply of war does' shine ; 
 For such virgin love decked bold, 
 Trusting that their tarnished gold 
 All sin will leaven. 
 
 In and out they caracole, 
 Lovers, pledging with their soul, 
 In the glitter of their arms, 
 All jingling with love charms, 
 Their name and gold. 
 
 Sweetly fair, as Venus shines 
 In the starry heavens, reclines 
 My lady on her throne ; 
 Sweetly beauteous, and alone ; 
 And queenly cold. 
 
 33 
 
Last a lover — fast and late — 
 Unmindful of his kingly fate ; 
 Unknown, alone — kneels to the ground 
 And casts a minstrel spell around, 
 Up to the throne. 
 
 No boaster of the serried ranks ; 
 No swaggerer, playing tuneless pranks ; 
 But love, in all its imagery, 
 Breathes from his soul its minstrelsy. 
 To love, its own. 
 
 Grim battlements in rocky seat, 
 O'er my lady's bower meet. 
 From the beetling crags look down 
 Grim guardians of the Eden round. 
 O'er love and hate. 
 
 34 
 
But never yet did lover sigh, 
 In the love-Hght of loves' eye. 
 Never yet did lover dare 
 All the lover's dark despair, 
 'Less tempting fate. 
 
 Ever strong in war's alarums. 
 While the colder heart disarms. 
 Ever fast at love's command, 
 All the lovelorn factions stand 
 A-guarding love. 
 
 Ever false love fears its own ; 
 Ever false love does bemoan ; 
 Ever jealous is its wound, 
 Ever every hope un found, 
 While love is love. 
 
 35 
 
Ever 'neath the purpling skies, 
 While the golden day abides. 
 Ever through the Arctic night, 
 Till the morn's effulgent light 
 Wins joy from woe. 
 
 As the lover ever kneels, 
 Swearing all the love he feels ; 
 Every other love disowns ; 
 Never lover-like bemoans 
 Such love and woe. 
 
 In the west are standards streaming; 
 In the east are lances gleaming, 
 Driving hard the hurrying braves — 
 Hurrying to untimely graves — 
 The swains forlorn. 
 
 36 
 
Then my own fair love comes down 
 From her starry, golden throne, 
 To the level of my own ; 
 And her wondrous love is shown 
 From eve till morn. 
 
 Now warrings ringing on the breeze, 
 O'er trembling strands and bloody seas, 
 And thrones they topple to the dust — 
 All images but war and lust — 
 As things unborn. 
 
 Grim war is stalking o'er the land, 
 Its votaries on either hand. 
 A pirate crew and robber band — 
 The flotsam of the wrecked and damned- 
 Wake night till morn. 
 
 37 
 
But lovers meet with clasping hand 
 Above the bivouacs of the damned. 
 With loving eyes above the mob, 
 Whose end is but to lust and rob, 
 Till death robs all. 
 
 The queen, as loving as a maid, 
 All lovingly love's tithings paid 
 Love, so saintly v^^hen forlorn; 
 Love, so joyous when upborne; 
 For love is all. 
 
 38 
 
LOVE'S PLEA 
 
 Only her lips, like sweets of flowers, 
 Her heart of my wine makes gold. 
 
 Only her lips, like roses red, 
 
 And kisses sweet dreams enfold. 
 
 Only her charms abounding are, 
 Impassioned, graceful, free; 
 
 They imparadise, within her arms, 
 The whole of heaven, for me. 
 
 O Love, but listen to my plea, 
 
 My every love declare. 
 Let love but charm my weary heart, 
 
 i\nd drive away dull care. 
 
 :J9 
 
Let all my love confess its love ; 
 
 My every love make known. 
 Unseal the treasure of its keep, 
 
 To kneel at love's white throne. 
 
 LOVE'S SWAY 
 
 Red, mortal passions, hope and love. 
 
 In train like fired wine. 
 In hurrying currents sweep my veins, 
 
 When you are truly mine. 
 
 When giving all the love you know. 
 While trembling with fear. 
 
 40 
 
Enrapturing- my life, my love, 
 
 Through smiles and tears, my dear. 
 
 Then cry, dear girl, if crying will 
 Lighten your heart of fears, 
 
 Can brighten love's horizon line, 
 One clearing storm of tears. 
 
 I know, dear girl, we'll meet again ; 
 
 Will drive away dull care. 
 Win love's reward, and lovers' bliss. 
 
 Where fainter hearts despair. 
 
 41 
 
LOVE 
 
 Love is the winning of the brave, 
 The star-chord of the soul, 
 
 That, still alluring love with love, 
 Wins sonl from mortal mould. 
 
 Thanksgivings on its altars shine ; 
 
 It wakes a sleeping land ; 
 It tones the chords of life anew, 
 
 With a warm and loving hand. 
 
 It holds the soul of man enskied ; 
 
 It guards it on its way. 
 And on the path of life it leads 
 
 And sets his feet of clav. 
 
 42 
 
NEW YEAR BELLS 
 
 A New Year Day of bells 
 
 On low winds chiming. 
 Sweet diapasons 
 
 Down the heavens borne, 
 From every steeple; 
 
 Ringing out God's glory ; 
 Awakening the heart 
 
 This New Year morn. 
 
 We hear their p^ans 
 Echoing the hillsides, 
 
 Beyond the confines 
 Of the lowly dell. 
 
 Above the wooded fields, 
 And hills and pastures, 
 
 43 
 
Their ringing paeans 
 
 Heavenly anthems swell. 
 
 Our hearts lie open 
 
 To their gentle teachings. 
 We lose the bitterness 
 
 Of daily life. 
 We join in spirit 
 
 Every ringing measure. 
 Enraptured feel 
 
 The beatitudes of life. 
 
 We feel the simple faith 
 
 Of lowly tenets; 
 Know power of faith, 
 
 Above the doubts of mind. 
 
 44 
 
Know charity, and love — 
 Life's simplest teachings — 
 
 Above the sophistries 
 Of proud mankind. 
 
 We feel no less the reverence 
 
 Of the shriven, 
 Though clothed in lowly garb 
 
 Or laurel crown. 
 No surcease of life's suffering 
 
 Or pleasure ; 
 No rank in joy 
 
 Or suffering is found. 
 
 O New Year Day of bells, 
 On low winds chimin? 
 
 45 
 
Thy messages to earth ! 
 
 They ease the way. 
 They give the wanderer 
 
 In thy gates new courage; 
 And cheer his journey 
 
 In the narrow way. 
 
 WHEN LOVE WAS BORN 
 
 A sunbeam's kiss awoke love's morn, 
 
 And, over the cold world's colding dawn, 
 
 A spirit of light burst through the night, 
 Flooding the world v;ith joy upborn. 
 
 46 
 
Oh, love it lives in the red, red rose ; 
 
 Earth borne, it turns from heaven above, 
 And it nestles close 'mid the roses red. 
 
 And in the loving cup we pledge red love. 
 
 LOVE'S WORLD 
 
 Grim, warring legions into kingdoms grown, 
 With mighty rulers down to Harold's time ; 
 With ringing paeans, sounding victory, 
 Till all confounding speech in speechless rhyme. 
 
 47 
 
The winged future shadowed in a glass; 
 The living miracle : the blood from stone ; 
 The future wrought before the future was ; 
 Beyond pale phophecy the spirit borne. 
 
 And life has each a-part, finite, benight, 
 And each a medley freighted with its doom. 
 Its every life-breath drawing nearer heaven 
 Its every impulse quickening to the tomb. 
 
 Hearts sicken in the ways of peaceful days — 
 The sordid days, that strike the noblest down; 
 The days of peace that know no Christian haven. 
 Within its gates no honest ends are found. 
 
 48 
 
Old ideals vanish as, the years progressing, 
 We seek the highest, ending fall on fall, 
 Until we only climb a little higher. 
 Experience teaching ns the end is all. 
 
 But still are ideals waiting but the taking. 
 We catch a glimpse of heaven now and then ; 
 But all seems as the breath upon a mirror — 
 Mere shadows, where the substance we have seen. 
 
 Of love we scarcely know its faintest image; 
 Though, race to race, its subjects we have been. 
 We've lost it in the scramble for the dollar; 
 Its cursed gold our wages now and then. 
 
 49 
 
High ideals, ever winging with the spirit ; 
 And facts, borne down within a narrow groove. 
 The laws and customs prosper our undoing; 
 Less cherished aims Parnassan may improve. 
 
 We need not search the heavens for our love ; 
 Earth-love but craves a love-glance nearer by. 
 The joys and woes of loving and of life, 
 A strong arm's shelter from the world's fierce strife. 
 
 And so we seek our ideal, day by day, 
 And far a-field, when love is arm's-length nigh; 
 For mutual love our true hearts craving for, 
 On wing of love we search the sea and sky. 
 
 50 
 
And so throug-h endless centuries love has been 
 The loadstone leading over land and sea. 
 Through generations linking race on race, 
 Love's dual purpose all men's destiny. 
 
 The toil of men : the labor of the world; 
 
 The countless centuries past, and those to come 
 
 All without love were cold oblivion. 
 
 Love holds the world until life's dav is done. 
 
 51 
 
A SPEAKING LIKENESS 
 
 The clouds that sail the azure blue, 
 That sink down to the sea ; 
 
 The rainbows, arching heaven's blue- 
 They speak my love of thee. 
 
 They fill my heart alight with joy; 
 
 They set my spirit free ; 
 And to the heart of Nature's heart 
 
 They speak my love of thee. 
 
 Youth's happy dream of love for love; 
 
 Through smiles and tears I see 
 Thy lovely face, while stars and flowers- 
 
 They speak my love of thee. 
 
 52 
 
MARTIAL HOSTS 
 
 At Landsend, where was meeting sea on sea, 
 Before the Lowlands diked and piked, sun-kissed, 
 Came Harold, son of David, the good king. 
 Before wild Hamlet, of great Shakespeare's song ; 
 
 Before the New Muse from the Old was born. 
 Like other Harold, from the old line sprung ; 
 The Free Lance and the rover, who had been 
 The trained soldier, 'fore our world scarce seen. 
 
 Such was the mould of Harold, he of David's line, 
 Who prospered 'mid the rule and clash of arms. 
 Whose spearmen, bowmen, — thousands under arms- 
 Marched 'neath red standards into Kingdom Come. 
 
 53 
 
The beetling crags that towered o'er the plain, 
 They sheltered armies in their vale and wall; 
 And, winding 'tween the long vales and the hills, 
 New factions gathered, clashing arms on arms. 
 
 The goodly days of hurrying mortal strife — 
 A tossing mixture, 'tween sure gain and loss— 
 When higher spirits towered as the crags 
 Above the vortex, w^orshipping the cross. 
 
 Now cities of the Dead to lowlands razed — 
 Long-buried cities — pile the rocky bed ; 
 And still the living trample, maze on maze. 
 'Neath hurrying feet, the houses of the dead. 
 
 54 
 
We read their story in the March of Rome ; 
 Her Christian miracle the tomb unsealed. 
 All hidden mysteries behind the veil, 
 Fraternal spirits immortally revealed. 
 
 Beyond the deserts of the living sonl ; 
 Beyond the compass of terrestrial bond ; 
 Beyond the straits 'tween living and the dead 
 We hear their voices the seven seas around. 
 
HIS LAST BATTLE WON 
 
 His the Red Badge of Courage, 
 That leaps to command 
 
 O'er rank and file^ legions, 
 To fight hand to hand. 
 
 A Soldier of Fortune 
 No foe can withstand. 
 
 One dare-devil private 
 Who leads all the van. 
 
 O'er hell-fired ramparts 
 His deadly sword waves ; 
 
 Till shrouded in glory 
 In the colors he saves, 
 
 56 
 
His courage devoted, 
 His life service done, 
 
 A hero immortal. 
 His last battle won. 
 
 THE GODS OF WAR 
 
 When the gods of war let loose, 
 And go racing to their fate, 
 
 Into the jaws of Death 
 
 They drag an army's weight. 
 
 A flaming sw^ord it strikes abroad, 
 Starred to the hilt blood-red ; 
 
 57 
 
And buries deep the right and wrong, 
 'Neath mountains of the dead. 
 
 But a God of Vengeance' seeing eye 
 
 Accounted every loss ; 
 And, o'er the field of carnage red, 
 
 Uplifts the shining cross. 
 
 Man in His likeness God accounts. 
 
 The world He died to save. 
 A savior still, He guardians 
 
 Above the soldier's grave. 
 
 58 
 
ONE MORE WAR 
 
 One more war before wrong is righted. 
 
 It is rolling o'er the deep, 
 In a chariot of fire, 
 
 To where the (jods of Vengeance sleep. 
 
 It will wrestle with dark nations, 
 Through a dark and bloody night, 
 
 Blinded by the lust of ages, 
 Till it falls down in the fight. 
 
 Nations then will know its burden ; 
 
 Cast is from their shoulders bare. 
 Gird their loins to better purpose, 
 
 And the end of war declare. 
 
 59 
 
Step by step will nations vanquish; 
 
 Peace prove conqueror of all ; 
 Commerce mightier than the sword; 
 
 One nation's good, their all 
 
 TOIL AND MOIL 
 
 Down 'neath the wheel of a Juggernaut car, 
 
 The sport of an angry god ; 
 And dazed by the flashing, grinding steel, 
 And the merciless ways abroad. 
 
 Hard, hurrying ways of grinding toil. 
 That cleave to the core and heart ; 
 
 60 
 
Revealing the hidden image within, 
 And marring its sacred part. 
 
 And it's toil, toil, toil ; 
 
 Of life till death apart. 
 While the molten lead 
 
 Pours out, blood-red — 
 Red as a bleeding heart. 
 
 And it's toil, toil, toil ; 
 
 Until the spirit's dead 
 Of a Spartan race, 
 
 In the sweat of its face 
 Earning its daily bread. 
 
 61 
 
Driven by mortal woes, 
 
 The slaves of an iron hand ; 
 
 Bowed down by gold and sold, 
 The serfs of a Christian land. 
 
 Drawn from the world's end's woes. 
 The martyrs of daily life. 
 
 O'erburdened with endless woes, 
 And fated to endless strife. 
 
 And it's toil, toil, toil ; 
 
 Beneath the rule of men 
 Who thrive and grow 
 
 On human woe, 
 And rule by a stroke of pen. 
 
 62 
 
It's toil toil toil ; 
 
 Beneath a merciless fate. 
 With hunger and sorrow, 
 
 And pain for the morrow ; 
 Cast down in a hopeless state. 
 
 Driven by force of a hurrying world, 
 Mad nations advance in line. 
 
 Along this slippery path to hell — 
 With never a look behind. 
 
 Down to the gates of eternal doom — 
 To a fiery furnace flame — 
 
 Over the forms of their brother men, 
 Who cry to them in vain. 
 
 63 
 
And it's toil, toil, toil ; 
 
 Through the day and night. 
 In a colding tomb. 
 
 And threatening doom, 
 Till heaven bursts on the sight. 
 
 It's toil, toil, toil ; 
 
 With never an end in view 
 But life's daily bread, 
 
 Till the heart lies dead, 
 And life's suffering is through. 
 
 64 
 
BROTHERS-IN-ARMS 
 
 Down to the heart-break, down to the earth; 
 Death beating down all life and all worth. 
 Lost for a cause that a word would redressed, 
 And sent to the Godhead with sins unconfessed. 
 
 Sent to the Godhead at flash of a gun ; 
 By Death's winged messenger, the envoy of One ; 
 Down from quick life — a pufif ending all — 
 And brothers-in-arms from life to death fall. 
 
 Sinking from man's estate, bravo and lust ; 
 Bringing them lowly down, down to the dust. 
 Down to the dust while the armies march on, 
 Filling the heavens with thunder and song. 
 
 65 
 
PEACE 
 
 Into the hearts of nations rushing, 
 Peace east and west does tend. 
 
 Into the arms of Christendom, 
 Till heathen gods unbend. 
 
 Tearing pagans from old idols, 
 Down before its throne. 
 
 Toppling to the lowly dust 
 Their gods of clay and stone. 
 
 Winning from a bloody field 
 One crystal peace alone ; 
 
 One Christian civilization. 
 Carved from a heart of stone. 
 
 66 
 
WORLD-WISE 
 
 The heart speaks hope from clay to day ; 
 
 But hopes beat down, O lack-a-day! 
 Till the heart lies dead as the darkling days ; 
 
 With never a friend to pray. 
 There's scarcely a spirit left it then — 
 
 So long befooled by the blinding glare 
 Of the gilt-eidged things that might have been. 
 
 But that only a fool would dare. 
 
 Through sunshine and shadow, from day to day 
 The world goes spinning the poor world's way. 
 
 We take our hearts to task through life, 
 As soon as any hope has flown. 
 
 We question life — its endless strife, 
 Whv sorrow marks us for its own. 
 
 67 
 
We've lived, and hoped the best of life ; 
 
 We've battled for oiir rights as bold 
 As ever hero in the strife — 
 
 But still the world's turned cold. 
 
 Slowly the potter turns the clay, 
 Fashioning life the red earth's way. 
 
 68 
 
YANKEEISMS 
 
KNICKERBOCKER 
 
 Mine fadder was a Mnnster man, 
 
 Upon the Isle of vSod. 
 And then he was a sailor man, 
 
 Who sailed upon the ford. 
 His feet were wet when on the sod, 
 
 And only dry when on the ford. 
 
 Klippety ! Klippety ! Klippety ! Klop ! 
 
 The Zudder Zee was dyked out ; 
 
 The land was dyked in. 
 And when the Zudder Zee flowed out 
 
 There was only Holland gin. 
 
 Klippety ! Klippety ! Klippety ! Klop ! 
 
 G9 
 
Now when mine fadder grew a man 
 
 He took himself a frau ; 
 And she became, a year from then, 
 
 Ze mudder of me now. 
 
 Klippety! KHppety! KHppety! Klop! 
 
 When I sailed across the ocean blue 
 
 And landed on your shore, 
 Was I a Knickerbocker lass, 
 
 Or a Dutchy evermore? 
 
 Klippety! Klippety! Klippety! Klop! 
 
 70 
 
OLD-TIME HYMNS 
 
 We've got a grand, new organ, Sue, 
 As smooth and fine as silk. 
 
 You run the scales, and so forth, 
 And draw music out like milk — 
 
 The milk of human kindness — 
 In a musical sort of flow ; 
 
 Like a harp of rushing waters, 
 A-babbling. to and fro. 
 
 "Throw Out the Life Line," "Beulah Land, 
 
 And all the old-time hymns; 
 When the brothers and the sisters join 
 It makes the rafters ring. 
 
 71 
 
The brothers and the sisters all, 
 They make a striking team. 
 
 The sisters sing serenely high, 
 And the brothers tip the beam. 
 
 Each beam and flash of lightsome song 
 That the sisters raise, aloof, 
 
 Is gathered by the brothers strong, 
 And boosted to the roof. 
 
 Then Deacons Smith and Jones join in, 
 
 And Sister Amerella ; 
 And all the congregation smiles, 
 
 To hear Amerella's feller. 
 
 72 
 
For Amerella's feller, Jake, 
 Is long on lungs and beller. 
 
 And his idea of singing is 
 To drown the other feller. 
 
 The organ stands it like a man, 
 And roars its challenge wide ; 
 
 Rolling its music, peal on peal, 
 Rivalling all beside. 
 
 Its very stops and frets get warm^ 
 And shaking with emotion. 
 
 Its weird internals seem to make 
 A plea for sky excursions ; 
 
 73 
 
A-lifting of the soul in song, 
 Sky high above the mob ; 
 
 Sky-piloting sky-reefs and shoals, 
 In winds that shriek and sob. 
 
 The thunder of its music 
 Goes echoing through space ; 
 
 And the chap that drives the organ 
 Gets setting a hot pace. 
 
 He jockeys for the pole, — gets left, 
 And breaks all round the track, 
 
 Till, called back by the judges, 
 He comes high-falutin' back. 
 
 U 
 
He starts, and breaks— and starts again ; 
 
 Till, finally, at last, 
 They all get off together. 
 
 And reel the pace off fast. 
 
 Sophia, old girl, shakes all her curls, 
 And looks back at the bass, 
 
 Who takes the challenge with a bolt, 
 And spurts for second place. 
 
 They get down to their medicine, 
 And settle down in line. 
 
 Sophia leading all the choir. 
 Till Babe pipes up behind. 
 
 75 
 
Babe's Brown's girl— "Baby Brown"— 
 And the way she mows things down, 
 
 And hustles to the front's, a stunt 
 That does the thing up brown. 
 
 It's good for sore eyes, sartin. 
 And when, before the choir, 
 
 She passes a pug nose ahead. 
 She couldn't tilt it higher. 
 
 Babe, she's a picture, tip to toe ; 
 
 And the way she looks around 
 When she's on the higher altitudes, 
 
 Makes a feller's heart to pound. 
 
You forget the organ and the choir 
 And you only seem to hear 
 
 One sweet voice dropping honey — 
 And the pearly gates swing near. 
 
 And that's the music I like best- 
 The real, old-fashioned kind, 
 
 That sort of moves the vitals, 
 And that lingers in the mind. 
 
PEACEFUL 
 
 There's something in the browsing, 
 And the lowing of the herd — 
 
 The way it loiters on its way, 
 A-chewing of its curd — 
 
 That makes one feel as peaceful 
 
 As any one can be, 
 Who looks upon such peacefulness 
 
 As amazing mystery. 
 
 The lowing in the tie-up, 
 Is the most peaceful thing — 
 
 Next to the smell of clover, 
 And the cow-bells' ding-a-ling. 
 
The atmosphere of peacefulness 
 That wraps around the vales, 
 
 The hills and dales of childhood, 
 Is a joy that never fails. 
 
 FISHING DAYS 
 
 You've read about the barefoot boy, 
 
 With his sapling alder pole. 
 Who gathers in the troutlets 
 
 From every likely hole ; 
 
 Whose psychic pull is wonderful ; 
 
 Whose mesmerizing grin 
 Lures the speckled beauties shore-ward; 
 
 And who lands them on a pin. 
 
 79 
 
He's freckled, sassy, stumpy, 
 And hardly looks the part 
 
 Of a high-brow hypnotizer ; 
 And, really now, at heart 
 
 I know him for a guileless. 
 Fun-loving, barefoot boy ; 
 
 Without any machinations, 
 Or psychic quality. 
 
 Not wielding occult influence. 
 Nor his pole a mystic wand. 
 
 Or making such large catches 
 As was never looked upon. 
 
 80 
 
I've got as good a rigging 
 As in any sporting store; 
 
 Silk lines and spider leaders, 
 And flies and bait galore. 
 
 I whipped the stream on every side, 
 
 Before he got around, 
 And monopolized the landscape 
 
 Until the sun went down. 
 
 But a dozen trout and shiners 
 Was the only kind of slaughter 
 
 I carved out of this wilderness. 
 And land of laughing water. 
 
 81 
 
I studied all his movements — 
 The way he made his cast. 
 
 I tried his every bait and lure, 
 Till, tuckered out at last. 
 
 I failed to make connections. 
 
 Though I tried his hook and pole. 
 
 And used his grubs and angleworms 
 In every likely hole. 
 
 Last, getting fairly skeptical, 
 Of the fish that wouldn't come, 
 
 I got dreaming of the fishing 
 In the days when I was young. 
 
 82 
 
I could see myself a-standing 
 By a brook-side in a dell, 
 
 And catching speckled beauties, 
 And landing them, pell-mell. 
 
 And I wondered if the city 
 Had taken out of me 
 
 That piscatorial cunning 
 And native mastery. 
 
 Had I lost my early prowess, 
 And that instinctive sense 
 
 Of knowing how, and when, to strike 
 A high line munificence? 
 
 83 
 
And then there came a memory, 
 That clarified my mind ; 
 
 Revealed to me the reason 
 
 Why I'd missed them every time 
 
 It flashed across my vision 
 That I never tempted fate — 
 
 Never cast my old lures broadcast- 
 Without spitting on my bait ! 
 
 84 
 
ALL ASHORE FARMING 
 
 Did you ever start a-farming, 
 And a-grubbing in the soil, 
 
 Without seeing weeds, like marplots, 
 How they fairly seem to boil? 
 
 They o'er run the 'tater patches. 
 And over grow the corn ; 
 
 And monopolize the landscape, 
 Till things seem most forlorn. 
 
 Now when I start a-farming, 
 I start the other way : 
 
 I start a crop of sorrel, 
 
 And give the land fair play. 
 
 85 
 
I get the sour sweated out, 
 And then I go ahead, 
 
 And sweeten up the landscape 
 With sugar corn, instead. 
 
 I wet down every furrow 
 
 From a spring that never dries 
 
 And I cultivate the landscape 
 Till it's all good for sore eyes- 
 
 Just as pretty as a picture, 
 With fields of ripening grain 
 
 That billow like the ocean blue, 
 And without a drop of rain. 
 
 86 
 
With everything a-prospering. 
 
 As good as it can be, 
 I get pining for excitement, 
 
 And the days 'fore 'sixty-three. 
 
 You wouldn't think, to see me, 
 
 That I run the Mary Jane 
 Through three blockades, in 'sixty-one, 
 
 And had sailed the Spanish main. 
 
 But it's hard to tell a feller. 
 By the way he grubs and hoes, 
 
 Or his fuss-and-feather trappings, 
 And kid glove furbelows. 
 
 87 
 
I know some common fellers 
 That were on the firing line ; 
 
 Stood up and took their medicine, 
 And returned it, every time. 
 
 I know a little tailor chap, 
 
 About five feet by four, 
 Who led the lads at Pumpkin Knob, 
 
 And drove the enemy ashore. 
 
 There was a circuit preacher, 
 Who enlisted with the Pats, 
 
 Was a holy terror scrapping, — 
 Lick his own weisfht in wild-cats. 
 
 88 
 
And when I gret a-thinking 
 About those glorious deeds, 
 
 It gets my Ebenezer up, 
 
 And I go out and kill the weeds. 
 
 BACK TO THE LAND 
 
 With a stone wall on the sky-line, 
 And a strip of medder ground ; 
 
 With hills and dales and hay-cocks 
 A-scattered all around, 
 
 It's sort of good to mingle 
 With the native atmosphere; 
 
 The whiffs of new-mown meaders 
 Keeps one going for a year. 
 
 89 
 
It sort of helps the running, 
 Far from the madding crowd, 
 
 And the dollars of our daddies, 
 To breathe, and speak out loud 
 
 To get into a hay-field 
 
 And swap our fine boiled shirt, 
 For a nearer nature makeshift. 
 
 And then put on a spurt. 
 
 To swing the tuneful pitchfork, 
 And rake in with the rake ; 
 
 Then try on the hay-tedder. 
 And give the hay a shake. 
 
 90 
 
And when all's cured — the herds-grass, 
 
 The timothy and clover — 
 You race the hurrying thunderstorm 
 
 And get things under cover. 
 
 You feel so strong and hearty, 
 And all around first rate. 
 
 You're like a colt at pasture, 
 No matter how you ache. 
 
 It's hard to find a soft spot, 
 When you lay down to rest; 
 
 But it's sweet to grin and bear it, 
 For it's the aching that you guessed 
 
 91 
 
Would surely overtake yer, 
 
 'Cause yer can't house up a year, 
 
 And find your muscles working 
 And your machinery in gear. 
 
 But you know you'll harden proper, 
 Will do the thing up brown; 
 
 Will eat and drink like everything, 
 'Fore you start back to town. 
 
 When the hay is in the scaffold, 
 And the swallows in the eaves, 
 
 And the bees a-booming round yer, 
 You can do as you darn please. 
 
 92 
 
You keep eternal thinking 
 How much better it would be 
 
 To live akin to Nature, 
 And take things as they be. 
 
 Let's get back to the country, 
 And get our cowhides on ; 
 
 And join the rousing chorus 
 When the ripple's on the corn. 
 
 93 
 
HAIL COLMBIA 
 
 We've come down, through short ages, 
 To a bigger grip of earth 
 
 Than all the old world nations 
 That were kingdoms at our birth. 
 
 And we've done it just by doing 
 What our good men said to try; 
 
 And we did it with a hurrah ; 
 And we did it mighty spry. 
 
 We fought from Plymouth Rock, U. S., 
 Right over 'Tike's Peak or bust", 
 
 And every critter in our way 
 He had to fight — or dust. 
 
 94 
 
We couldn't stop to caution, 
 
 'Cause we took things on the run. 
 
 And we converted thugs to citizens, 
 By the Bible — and the gun. 
 
 It's a free and open eagle's crag. 
 Our home since old Bull Run. 
 
 And the dales are white with spires, 
 And we've spiked most every gun. 
 
 We never keep the worthy out — 
 They're welcome to their bread; 
 
 We only ask they use their hands, 
 And more than duck their head. 
 
 95 
 
We invite all nations over seas; 
 
 And when they step ashore. 
 They'll swear by Uncle Samuel, 
 
 'Fore they cross the Open Door. 
 
 THE BACK COUNTRY MEMBER 
 
 He can tell you about George Washington, 
 
 Daniel Webster, and good men — 
 Like Beecher, Talmage, and the rest, 
 
 And the Munroe Doctrine then. 
 He's been to Bunker Hill's tip-top, 
 
 And stood, 'neath standards furled, 
 Where first that shot w^as fired 
 
 That rang around the world. 
 
 96 
 
He's not much on expansion, 
 
 But. when his cowhides bind, 
 He Hkes to have a boot- jack near, 
 
 To sort of ease his mind. 
 He's never very jealous Hke ; 
 
 He never runs amuck : 
 He loves his own true house-wife, 
 
 His own dear **Httle duck". 
 
 She boosted him to Congress, 
 
 'Cause she cut his pants so queer 
 People took him for a genius, 
 
 And they rushed him with a cheer. 
 But he's just a minority, 
 
 Away from cows and loam. 
 And he's wasting to a shadow, 
 
 So he hopes they'll call him home. 
 
u. s. 
 
 We've got a lot of monuments 
 We've raised to Uncle Sam — 
 
 As Union sons and daughters — 
 And we've raised them up by hand. 
 
 Pulling determined tugs-of-war 
 With every foreign nation, 
 
 That rustled for our lay-out, 
 
 Tore our Independent Declaration. 
 
 Then we put our foot down, solid, 
 And a feather in our cap ; 
 
 And declared the Munroe Doctrine, 
 To show where we were at. 
 
 98 
 
Of course they all mistrusted 
 We were getting out a bill, 
 
 When we drew our Declaration, 
 And the sword of Bunker Hill. 
 
 HISTORY MAKING 
 
 Priest, and saint and sinner — 
 
 History-making men ; 
 Prayer and cross and sabre — 
 
 But mightier is the pen. 
 
 Things objective and subjective, 
 Turning big worlds around. 
 
 Land and water ; Pharaoh's daughter ; 
 Kings, and things, confound. 
 
 99 
 
Put it mildly, saint and sinner, 
 
 Let the whole world stand judge: 
 Cap-a-pie and criss-cross sabre, 
 Or a sacrament of blood. 
 
 Gird the loins — or neck with hang-noose 
 Raise — or raze — the gallows-tree; 
 
 Headless dragons, poison aspens, 
 Repeat the old world's history. 
 
 100 
 
THE EVERYDAY MAN 
 
 John Alden and Priscilla, 
 
 Their names have long been sung 
 And Darby and Joan, and such ; 
 
 And The Man Behind the Gun. 
 
 But how about the feller 
 Who eats pie with his knife, 
 
 And is living, in a modest way, 
 With his "little ducky" wife? 
 
 These toilers of the sea and land, 
 They feed a hungry world. 
 
 They bear the brunt of battle — 
 But no banners are unfurled; 
 
 101 
 
No wreaths of laurel crown them- 
 These for the heroes dead. 
 
 These living heroes toil and moil, 
 Earning their daily bread. 
 
 No banners wave above them, 
 And the history of their life 
 
 Is written on their tombstones — 
 "He has ceased this mortal strife." 
 
 102 
 
POT LUCK 
 
 You can talk about your Broadway, 
 And the feeding up that way; 
 
 How it's different as an auto 
 To the one-hoss, open shay ; 
 
 But Fve a sneaking notion 
 That you agitate around, 
 
 And you'll get backing yeller-eyes, 
 And a bean-hole in the qround. 
 
 You've heard about the Sybarites, 
 And the dishes fit for kings — 
 
 How they paid the slippery ducats 
 For little onery things ; 
 
 103 
 
Paid fortunes and come-uppance, 
 
 To learn to understand 
 That the innards of a mortal 
 
 Must square up with his bread-pan. 
 
 That none can feel rambunctious, 
 Without the teeth to chew 
 
 On all the elmentary things 
 That fall like heavenly dew, 
 
 On the just and unjust — all alike — 
 Like manna from the sky, 
 
 And gravitate toward the bean-hole, 
 Or the clam-flats, handy by. 
 
 104 
 
You take a lot of sea-weed, 
 All filled with pure ozone — 
 
 With zephyrs and the sea wind, 
 And the sad wave's monotone 
 
 And, under its protective wing-, 
 You plant a lay of clams. 
 
 Of corn and sundry delicacies, 
 And then reach out your hands 
 
 And gather close the harvest, 
 The fruits of sea and land, 
 
 And you'll find that life's worth living- 
 A-living hand to hand. 
 
 105 
 
Excursions into simple life — 
 A-living's plain's can be, 
 
 Just a-sampling- of the harvests 
 Of the green earth and the sea. 
 
 And when the bean-hole's covered, 
 And the lobster's in the pot, 
 
 There's a good excuse for living, 
 And a-loafing 'round that spot; 
 
 For getting next the combine, 
 Like a honey-bee that's stuck 
 
 On a blooming calla lily. 
 And trying your pot luck. 
 
 106 
 
CHURCH CIRCLES 
 
 Hezekiah and Sophia, Esphene and Maria, 
 
 Uncle Moses, Rube and Cy— 
 More uncles and aunts than you ever did see 
 
 With distant relations, Faith, Hope and Charity. 
 
 Hezekiah, the prophet, and Esphene, the gossip, 
 Sophia, the muse, and Josh, Jake and Cy, 
 
 Were all heavy feeders, and deacons and leaders 
 Of old-fashioned families that never said die. 
 
 Deacon Cy led the halting right up to the calking ; 
 
 An' they walked a straight line 'neath Uncle Abe's eye. 
 Sister Patience exhorted ; in psalm-singing contorted, 
 
 The days Auld Lang Syne, to the Sweet By and By. 
 
 107 
 
Electra and Beulah, an' Concord, Content, 
 
 Obadiah, Rebecca, Josephus and Shem, 
 Were all strong church members, and singers and ringers, 
 
 That followed church circles to help — straighten them ! 
 
 GOD'S ACRE 
 
 Some day in the dim future. 
 
 When we are bylow bye, 
 They'll save for suffering Christians, 
 
 A big mansion in the sky. 
 
 Some day we'll have the gumption 
 To save our brother man. 
 
 And to let the wily heathen 
 
 Beat his tom-tom while he can. 
 
 108 
 
God's acre— now the poor man's rest, 
 But underneath God's sky, 
 Right underneath Old Glory — 
 We'll save souls by and by. 
 
 ECONOMICAL RELIGIONS 
 
 The more I see of mankind. 
 
 And womankind, I do 
 Get sartin that improvements 
 
 Are wanted — quite a few. 
 
 That every tribulation, 
 
 It needs a Concord spring, — 
 
 Or some concording mechanism — 
 To make heaven, wing-a-wing. 
 
 109 
 
We sartin ain't as able 
 To steer the narrow way, 
 
 Through the valley of the shadows, 
 Or believe a brighter day, 
 
 As our heartier progenitors, 
 
 Who lifted up in song 
 Their common tribulations, 
 
 To the place where they belong. 
 
 Sort of shifted off their burdens 
 To the keeping of their Lord ; 
 
 And, in heathen situations, 
 Kept their missionary board. 
 
 110 
 
They gilded every steeple, 
 In the worship of the Lord ; 
 
 And in fire-proof salvation 
 
 Found their comforting reward. 
 
 It distracted all the mourners 
 From dwelling on their ills, 
 
 And saved — like Christian science- 
 A lot of doctor's bills. 
 
 311 
 
HYDROSTATICALLY 
 
 The more I get a-musing 
 
 The way the world was planned- 
 Its heavy loads of slugs and thugs 
 
 And general contraband — 
 
 The more I feel, for sartin, 
 That the devil's got a part 
 
 In the general machinations 
 That animate its heart. 
 
 The sweetest disposition 
 That ambulates its way. 
 
 Gets gravitating naturally 
 Toward mortal miserv. 
 
 112 
 
The way the world was started- 
 Its preponderance of weeds, 
 
 The daily toil and moil it takes 
 To raise up useful seeds — 
 
 Encourages a reversion. 
 Another general flood. 
 
 And the cutting off the prospect 
 Of any resurrection bud. 
 
 We can start the thing a-moving. 
 And philosophically abide 
 
 By its Noah's ark decisions, 
 Until the floods subside. 
 
 113 
 
Just stand with arms akimbo, 
 And just a-looking on. 
 
 Watch Nature get a hump on, 
 And hustle things along. 
 
 Dispersing all our worldly goods, 
 And floating them away ; 
 
 And working our salvation out 
 Sort of hydrostatically. 
 
 114 
 
DIALECTUAL 
 
 I read a dialect story once, 
 
 A sort of rhapsody 
 About some dams and loggers, 
 
 Of an aqueous pedigree. 
 
 How the spike- footed bipeds 
 Did work the thing about, 
 
 To where the log-jam busted. 
 And things went up the spout. 
 
 The hero went progressing. 
 As happy as could be, 
 
 Warp- jawing over obstacles, 
 With pick-pole and peavee. 
 
 115 
 
The further that I read the tale, 
 The more it seemed to me 
 
 That, aside from dams and dialect, 
 Things ran quite peacefully. 
 
 EXTREMES MEET 
 
 The most ornery feller 
 
 Has, somewhere in his breast, 
 An ideal plan of living. 
 
 That he never has confessed; 
 
 That he shelters from inspection, 
 And the sacrilegious gaze. 
 
 And treasures all his lifetime, 
 Through all his mortal days. 
 
 116 
 
It's the sweetest songs and ballads, 
 The tenderest of themes — 
 
 That breathe of home and loved ones- 
 That ever fairest seems. 
 
 Contrasting lights and shadows, 
 Extremes that gaily meet, 
 
 While dancing to the music : 
 "My Girl Has Sea Lion Feet." 
 
 And sheltering heart's idols 
 
 At purposes criss-cross. 
 While trotting to the music : 
 
 "I'm Dressed Up Like a Horse." 
 
 117 
 
And when the show is over, 
 And the people moving- on, 
 
 The ideal crashes in the waltz : 
 "I've Got My Feed-bag On.' 
 
 IT 
 
 I met It on the prairie. 
 
 With an eye-glass in Its eye. 
 
 I asked It if It lickered up. 
 "Oh now, really." 
 
 It varied some Its converse 
 By the flicker of an eye. 
 
 From the original old query: 
 To: "Really now, just fauncy!" 
 
 118 
 
It rode astride a filly, 
 As lean as any hound ; 
 
 As high up as a steeple — 
 A thorouijh-bred all around. 
 
 A daisy-cutter thorough-bred, 
 As handsome as could be. 
 
 I offered It a hundred pounds- 
 It said: "Now just fauncy!" 
 
 I figured it out this way : 
 That It must surely be 
 
 A native of some country, 
 In lands beyond the sea. 
 
 119 
 
Its very languid manner 
 Didn't seem at all to fit 
 
 Into our cyclone atmosphere, 
 Or adapt itself a bit. 
 
 To start Its circulation, 
 I a gun held to Its head — 
 
 'Cause I wouldn't shoot a feller 
 I could frighten nearly dead. 
 
 I talked to It right fatherly. 
 Of how It must come down, 
 
 And I would ride the filly, 
 And It could walk to town ! 
 
 120 
 
FIRST MEDALS 
 
 You hear about the motor 
 
 That never motes but when, 
 On a joy-ride jamboree, 
 
 Or a Rome-howl Grecian bend; 
 The nearly Derby winner ; 
 
 The yacht that crossed the line 
 Ahead of all competitors — 
 
 But for a handicap of time. 
 
 You've heard about the high degrees, 
 
 And Bachelors of Arts — 
 The chap that'd won the medal — 
 
 If he'd kept his upper parts. 
 We've Holsteins and we've Jerseys, 
 
 That — nearly — won first prize ; 
 And Berkshires, China Polands, 
 
 That were all good for sore eyes. 
 
 121 
 
But they never won first medal, 
 
 Though rated as Al, 
 And better than the fellers 
 
 That took first medal home. 
 I saw where I had missed it : 
 
 I was sending honest goods 
 Into a shyster market, 
 
 Where they were little understood. 
 
 Were received with dark suspicions, 
 
 As an insult to the mind 
 Of men who lived by perquisite — 
 
 And grafting — justice blind. 
 The A One quality, 'tis plain, 
 
 In statesmanship, or blood. 
 Can seldom gain distinction. 
 
 Till underneath the sod. 
 
 122 
 
The very obvious best 
 
 That any one can see, 
 Would win out on its virtues, 
 
 First medals, certainly. 
 The every kind sure quality, 
 
 Then winning", every time, 
 Would leave little for the grafters. 
 
 But a lemon or a lime. 
 
 While every other medal 
 
 Was drifting down our way, 
 The A Ones wouldn't congregate 
 
 Around our destiny. 
 Medals every kind and color — 
 
 Of every sort and shade. 
 Except the kind referred to. 
 
 That, to call a spade a spade. 
 
 123 
 
I designate "spook medals", 
 
 For experience has taught 
 They are the veriest Will-O'-the-Wisps, 
 
 And never could be caught. 
 x\s previously referred to — 
 
 I was getting at that point — 
 When the mention of First medals 
 
 Fairly put me out of joint. 
 
 When I ran across a mongrel pup — 
 
 All yellow, and a scrub — 
 That I gave an airy, fairy name, 
 
 To square his ugly mug. 
 I'd found him in the country, 
 
 A league or so from town ; 
 In the highlands, near the border, 
 
 Near a dale in Larrydown. 
 
 124 
 
I called him "Airedale", jokingly — 
 
 As though he were well-bred. 
 His sire I christened 'Trince O'Clod", 
 
 Though ''nonesuch" done instead. 
 To this dog with a good name, 
 
 No courtesy did fail ; 
 He was covered with first medals, 
 
 From ugly mug to tail. 
 
 A surprising revelation, 
 
 That any kind of scrub 
 Could turn the trick dead easily. 
 
 That any ugly mug 
 Could win, by grace and favor, 
 
 Of a Prince's mighty name, 
 All the highfalutin' honors. 
 
 And the first prize of the game. 
 
 125 
 
The feller with the best goods 
 Would hardly cause surprise 
 
 If, before he had exhibited, 
 He'd coppered every prize. 
 
 There'd be nothing for the grafters- 
 No finesse in the game — 
 
 No changing white to black. 
 And black to white again. 
 
 126 
 
THE SOLUTION OF IT 
 
 I was reading in the paper, 
 
 To Mary Susan Ann, 
 About those sons of Italy 
 
 Who practice the Blank Hand. 
 
 And it fairly made Sue shudder, 
 To hear about the way 
 
 They raise their bloody money, 
 By Black Hand tragedy. 
 
 They make some resolutions 
 About blowing up a man 
 
 With dynamite or glycerine, 
 And sign it : "The Black Hand." 
 
 127 
 
They pin it to his pillow, 
 Or tack it to his door ; 
 
 A-vvarning him to pay D. Q. 
 Or he'll see the Golden Shore. 
 
 And I told Mary Susan Ann 
 That, if I lived up that way, 
 
 I'd fix a sawed-ofli blunderbuss, 
 And blow 'em all away. 
 
 It would sort of clear the atmosphere, 
 Like a thunder-clap in June ; 
 
 And make those Dagos scuttle, 
 And sing another tune. 
 
 138 
 
And Susan Ann admitted 
 
 That the plan would make them run- 
 If you got the aim for sartin, 
 
 And a man behind the eun. 
 
 Our daughter, just from college, 
 Thought perhaps it would be best 
 
 To use some small diplomacy. 
 And something called "finesse." 
 
 I asked Susan Ann about it — 
 
 What that ''fine S" thing could be. 
 
 For I wouldn't show my ignorance 
 'Fore a young gal, twenty-three. 
 
 129 
 
And Susan Ann allowed that she 
 Was surely stumped and puzzled ; 
 
 But she wouldn't own it 'fore that gal, 
 Not if she went 'round muzzled. 
 
 But her woman's curiosity 
 
 And pride were surely worried. 
 
 Near asking Jennie what she meant- 
 Her mind was that much flurried. 
 
 It's the little things that hurt us, 
 That get stuck in the mind. 
 
 And it's hard to pry 'em out again 
 And it seemed to undermine 
 
 130 
 
Sue's constitution, clay by day, 
 
 Till, finally, unstrung. 
 She said she'd stood it long's she could, 
 
 And would find out the solution. 
 
 Now Mary Susan Ann is some, 
 And when her mind gets set. 
 
 She's just like Giberalter — 
 
 And yer can't joggle her or pet. 
 
 I've read about the fellers 
 
 That searched the Holy Grail ; 
 
 But they's nothing side of Susan Ann, 
 When she sets on a trail. 
 
 131 
 
She kept it up a fortnight. 
 
 And grew thin as a rail. 
 Sometimes she seemed more hopeful- 
 
 But mostly Hke she'd fail. 
 
 I hadn't lost my courage, 
 
 'Cause I knew the way she held 
 
 To anything she undertook. 
 
 Perhaps 'twas the way 'twas spelled. 
 
 That made it hard to cipher out, 
 Or to pronounce it pat; 
 
 Might bother folks to understand 
 What Sue was driving at. 
 
 132 
 
I gave her every lee-way 
 
 To make the goal and win. 
 Till last, one day, I asked her, straight, 
 
 To name the gaul-darn thing. 
 
 I saw she hesitated sum, 
 
 And she finally confessed 
 That there warn't a yap in Greentown 
 
 Could name the thing, or guess. 
 
 I was getting slim and peaked 
 A-harping on the thing, 
 
 And Susan grew a shadow, 
 Until her wedding-ring — 
 
 133 
 
That'd always fitted tight's a drum- 
 Grew looser every day. 
 
 It was painful to imagine, 
 She was wasting quite away. 
 
 So consumed with the emotion, 
 The deep, internal sting, 
 
 But for lack of eddication 
 
 She could solutionize the thing. 
 
 Then I put my foot down, solid, 
 And I said to Mary Ann : 
 
 "I'll not eddicate another child, 
 Unless it is a man. 
 
 134 
 
A man can keep his mouth shut, 
 And never go and shout 
 
 His languages about so, 
 
 And knows what he's about. 
 
 If Jennie wasn't grown so, 
 I'd stand her on her head. 
 
 And shake such nonsense out of her, 
 Afore she chanced to wed. 
 
 Afore she made man miserable, 
 The rest his natural life, 
 
 By her highfaluting languages. 
 Now she'd make a pretty wife! 
 
 135 
 
Imagine if he asked her 
 
 To pass the tea or bread, 
 And she said : ''We, Monsieur, la, la !' 
 
 When English'd do instead. 
 
 She's been harping on these languages 
 
 About three times a day. 
 I'll ask her, when she harps again, 
 
 If she takes me for a jay. 
 
 And about that "fine S" thing, 
 Don't you worry any more. 
 
 They've got another system 
 For settling that score. 
 
 136 
 
They're going to fill the Dagos up 
 With microbe germs, and then 
 
 Let them loose among the villains, 
 And infect the lot of them. 
 
 The last speaker at the Grange said, 
 That microbes were the thing — 
 
 They'd kill off any nuisance, 
 If you'd give 'em half a fling. 
 
 They'd kill a nest of vipers 
 
 As dead as a door nail ; 
 That science and the doctors 
 
 Would side-track every jail. 
 
 137 
 
I asked the doctor, privately, 
 If a microbe had been found 
 
 That could cure a case of languages. 
 I was kind of edging 'round 
 
 To find a cure for *'We, Monsieur." 
 
 And the doctor did allow 
 That the microbe and bacilli 
 
 Could kill — or cure — a cow. 
 
 So I guess we needn't worry, 
 'Cause we've got the upper hand, 
 
 And can control the situation 
 
 Long's there's a microbe in the land. 
 
 138