PS 3535 .129 P6 1921 Copy 1 oems and Poems yf By DR. WM. H. RICHARDS V> ^ \^^^\ -2 T5 3TZS' THESE SKETCHES ARE POEMS BY William H. Richards, D. D. S. FROM HIS HEART GALLERY "ake a Stroll Through It With Him. He May Have Felt One of Your Heart Strings. Such Is Life! Edited by a Journalistic Friend DR. WA, H. RICHARDS Copyrighted Sept. 16, 1921 T^^ T)r W- H. RICHARDS ©C1A628647 NOV 18 1921 I have found real pleasure in going through and making selections from the writings of Dr. Richards, man and gentleman, writer and entertainer, poet, scientist and inventor. Were there no limit to space, more selections equally as good as those which follow, could have been included. The man, Rich- ards, is fine and in him is no guile. What he has uttered has been of no less a worthy plane. Read, and know, in part, something of the Richards heart. — Editor. WHERE HEAVEN IS FOUND Nature has a Soul somewhere, The Soul of Inspiration. I've felt its call to sing to all In every land and nation. Nature has a Heart somewhere In Touch with all Creation. Fve felt it throb and heard it sob In every walk and station. Nature's Heaven is Everywhere, Unbounded as Creation. It has a Throne where love is shov/n In Peace, not Desolation. Nature's God is Everywhere, The Soul of Incarnation. We are His breath in life or death And Crowning Inspiration. Rudyard Kipling wrote some blank verse on a Military topic which I have de-coded into Dental language. THE DENTAL LUNATIC We're Dentists- work- work- work- working for Humanity. Work- Work- Work- Work- Working for Humanity! Teeth- teeth- teeth- teeth- movin' up an' down again — There's no relief in the World. It - is - mighty - bad putting in the flllin's — And ex- trac- ting the pulps by the mill-ions: From teeth- teeth- teeth- teeth- movin' up an' down again — There's no relief in the World! Don't- don't- don't- don't- Orthodonty worries you — Teeth- teeth- teeth- teeth- movin' up an' down again Doc's- Doc's- Doc's- Doc's- Doc's go mad watchin' 'em; An' there's no relief in the world! Seven- six- eleven- four- eight- and twenty pulled today ! Four- eleven- seventeen- thirty-two the day before! Teeth- teeth- teeth- teeth- movin' up an' down again; There's no relief in the World. Plates- plates- plates — , in the gummy mouth o' them — If - your - eyes - drop — , they will get a bite o' you ! Teeth- teeth- teeth- teeth — , movin' up and down again, There's no relief in the World! In - your - dreams - you - can sense the sound o' them — Clash- clash- clash- clash- movin' in an' out again : Gnash- gnash- gnash, movin' up an' down again: An' there's no relief in the World. We - have - worked - our - lives in 'Ell an' certify, It- is- not- the- patients' sex or anything. But teeth- teeth- teeth- teeth m.ovin' up an' down again, An' there's no relief in the world ! We - can - stick - out - groan an' sigh an' weariness — But not, - not - not - the chronic sight of 'em — Teeth- teeth- teeth- teeth movin' up an' down again: An' there's no relief in the world! Try- try- try- to think o' something different — Oh- my- soul- I believe I'm goin' lunatic — Teeth- teeth- teeth- teeth — , movin' up an' down again. There's no relief in the World. SISTER CONSTANCE'S PRAYER Oh! Ancient Father of wisdom, God, over all, On Thee I call, from the depths of life's ignorance Lift Thou the pall, for good or evil. The Tree of Life casts over all. From the solitude of my Eden, Father, I call. From the top of knowledge's sacred tree I fain would fall, if by this fall this solitude, Would bring that love which knoweth no sin and forgiveth all. To shield him from the stain I did not call; Virtues crown, the price of my soul my very all, I gave to him with childlike faith In sacred hall. Where other twain went forth to wed, we went to fall. 'Twas in the Vicars house I fell. He made me fall; The sacrificial blood I shed for loves sweet call Was purer than that which flows, if love's not all, In the children of those who wed where law is all. Father! Mary, Mother of Thy Son, God over all. Conceived of Thee in Sacred Wild, At sacred call Of Holy Ghost, Thy Holy Son Proclaimed to all "Let the innocent cast . "The first stone at those who fall." TO SPRING— QUEEN OF SEASONS When fragrant buds are peeping In Springtime's early morn, And hazy fogs are creeping From downy beds at dawn We see the leafy bowers, In swaying plumes of green Sifting diamond showers In the lap of Nature's Queen. Thou Queen of all the Seasons We greet thee with our cheers And marvel at the reasons That fill your smiles with tears. Time leaves no lines in keeping With all the years you've spent Because your artful weeping Comes not from heart that's rent. Thou Queen of all the Seasons, The flowers that deck thy breast God grew them for the reasons And holds them where they rest. 'Till rainbow tinted flowers Send incense laden dew Through Heaven's welcome showers Each «e«»tm back to you. MOTHER OF LIBERTY Mother of Liberty, Thy Holy Light Enshrines the world in Glory bright, Adorns Columbia's Diadem and Relumes the Star of Bethlehem. Thy sons and sires from every race Cradled 'neath the inspired grace, Lighted by Love were born to lead Your allied sons of state and creed. To blaze the way for Freedom's Shrine Above the stars of your Ensign, Above the belfry's crumbling spire. Above the altar's alien fire, Above the Tomb whose Sacred dome, Falling, touches Heart and Home, Of race and creed and All indeed Who felt the Sting of Monarch's deed, Till Peace Just Peace — has crowned the day Sheathing the sword of Might for Aye On this, the World's Thanksgiving Day, — The Day of Armistice — . OUR STAR OF GOLD ''LaFayette, we come," A Yankee lad first knelt, in prayer, Near Christ's Gray General "over there;" Then, rising, cried with abated breath **Give Us Liberty, Or Give Us Death." The Yankee lad, the first to fall 'Neath Liberty's guiding hand Has blazed the way, at Freedom's call For the dear dead from every land. Columbia's star has changed its light From silvery sheen to glowing gold, To mark the sacrificial flight Of a Liberty loving soul. Freedom's scions the world around All hold his memory dear, Destiny makes this Holy Ground, For Columbia's Shrine is Here. May 8, 1919. MAGDELENE'S SISTER PIOUS Her eyes were set in bias slits And vvinked as if by chance Her brow was knit to keep her wits Fropi freezing every glance. Her cold gray stare was bold and bare, Of softening lash or tear She had no soul, no love to spare; She said herself, "I'm queer." Queer she was and the query is, When we, her features scan, The wonder is, that such a fizz Is a part of nature's plan. Her nose was thin, so was her skin, The blood beneath was blue But not the kind you'll find within Hearts with impulse true. Her lips were thin and turned within And wear no winsome pout; They have the slant of bias can't Which leaves all charity out. She fed the rich and high in state, For the praise they had to spare, And drove the pauper from her gate With a cold forbidding stare. Her edged tongue with honey hung To hide it's subtle snare. From those it stung and hearts it rung For envy's morbid glare. Where Magdeline slept, prayed or wept, Or erring footsteps fell. She laid in wait with envy's hate Of sisters' faults to tell. From Heaven to Hell an angel fell So shall the imps of fate Feel the smart of a burning heart For changing love to hate. There'll be o'er hell's undying yell Yells from Annanias, When doomed to dwell with imps in hell And their sister pious. OLD UNCLE DAN From Dixie's new highway There's a winding by-way To a town of Old Barleycorn Where bold Uncle Dan And his dog "Snarley" were born. In the marts of the South There's a ''moonshine drouth" Dry as bones on the lawns That are left by the hound To bleach on the ground By the Tomb of Old Barleycorn. Near the winding by-way After a long "dry" day By the lure of the 'Shiner's Horn There sleeps 01' Uncle Dan A real bootlegging man And his dog by Old Barleycorn. Here's peace to the soul of Old Uncle Dan Whose spirit fled with the cup that "queers" And to the Visions of Old Mammy Ann That cling to my dreams of Childhood's years. THE MOONSHINE SPY "I was riz where the moon seemed to me As sly on "shine" as I used to be I was as wild as any wild cat As to the law, I didn't mind that Jes stuck to my gun and old bowie knife Didn't give a damn 'bout anybody's life. Fit for the worm, that turned by and bye And stung my old state, 'til she went dry; "Where I still'd liquor, and sold it out The revenue boys laid round about; They camped on my trail every now and then Tried mighty hard to put me in the pen. When I went to town to help the wets fight The "drys" came round to snuff my light, The town went as dry as my powder horn Fighting gin the spirit of "Old Barley Corn." "I've seed him downed in more ways than one — Working for a chance, trying to make a run When he warn't strong he'd better keep "still" Til he drawed a beed for old Uncle Bill Who never was knowed in all his life For taking up his gun for any other strife Till Uncle Sam called for a first class spy To fight gin the "Uns" like he fit gin the dry. "Here's to my gun and old friend Rye. When we drawed a beed something had to die. The old Fuzees of bygone years Did mighty good work for the Volunteers — They are not fit for sniping off "Uns" That won't bite the dust from any slow guns, Like the Pilgrims of Progress had to lay by With my old Rifle when the State went dry." HUMBUG TRUST "A June bug said to a Butterfly Why doesn't you work as the day goes by A laying up honey like you see I does? Why! you haven't even got the grit to buzz.' *'The Butterfly said to the Bumblebee, 'Why isn't you all dressed up like me? I haven't a thing in the world to do But show off my clothes dat look so new.' " — Anonymous. A Bull frog, high on his white stool, Said to his Cow frog, over in the pool, 'You'd better go round and catch dat fool Before he starts a new-fangled School.' This world will be an awful muss If we don't stop this humbugging trust, From sending out bees on gaudy wing, to Teaching butterflies to jazz and sing. So you'd better go round, my Cow frog queen And catch dat fool asettin' on de bean; I'll put him where he'll never be seen, Helpin' June bugs keep your Bull frog green In the memory of stings that might have been. SWANANNOA TO SWANANTAQUA From Rhododendron's floral home 'Neath craggy mountain's opal dome The Swanannoa sings and flows Where Swanantaqua comes and goes, 'Neath clouds where Seven Sisters rise With incense trailing to the skies. Where dew-gems of rainbow hue Blend 'till the flowers renew Their Heavenly tints as pure and true As Swanannoa's songs for me and you. SWANANTAQUA TO SWANANNOA Swanannoa, I come again, To see your flowers bloom once more To hear your songs and sweet refrain Of birds that sing along your shore. On this trail my tribe is sleeping- Through dreams of lands they hope to see Where the great spirit is keeping Hunting grounds for the Cherokee. This poem won the prize for naming the Episcopal resort at Black Mountain, N. C, which is now known as Swanantaqua. THE GALILEAN PILOT In the cold gray dawn of a passing morn, From a fated ship at sea, Rose a parting prayer for one left there Who gave his life for me. To an unknown shore I plyed my oar With those unknown to me Who felt the strain in heart and brain, "Nearer my God to Thee." To a captain true and a faithful few On a broken ship at sea, Who gave their place with heavenly grace, Are dearer Lord to Thee. No greater Love is borne above By those who follow Thee To the sweet refrain, **We will meet again;" ''Nearer my God to Thee." Thy spirit Lord, with one accord, Was wafted o'er the sea By those whose strains of love remains "Nearer my God to me." The souls he saved from the ship that braved The icy isles at sea Will dwell above in realms of love, With Thee, Pilot of Galilee. Inspired by the sinking of the Titanic. JUST TEMPORIZE AND NEUTRALIZE Some things were not made for fun And from them we can't always run. I will be bold and of them tell, "You can catch Cold and you can catch Hell!" **Say cold, catch hell, And hell, catch cold." Each the other realizes And makes a temperate zone And everybody harmonizes And leaves extremes alone! TO A FATHER'S DAUGHTER Your dear dunning letters came And seem ever to wind up the same — Have the same tune, starts with "honey" And always end with a call for "more money." For twenty-five years I've paid your bills And I'm bound for the Poor House O'er the Hills. If I do not die before I arrive there Ariding on Poverty's old nightmare. My poor old steed everybody knows And I always wear the same old clothes. The same old gate she'll always choose, She's just like you — "She's Hell on Shoes." NO TOOTHLESS KISS FOR ME! Thy teeth, like Memorial stones, Mark the place of mouldering bones. Thy lips enfold no pearly shrine, Tempting Cupid's heart to pine. For the bliss of thy soulful kiss Is not from teeth like thine! EDEN'S FRUIT—AN APPLE AND A PAIR The first limited lunch in this world of woes Was in Eden's Garden where Eve chose Apples for lunch for a company of two. Apples were plenty but guests were few. One was enou.^h for the love sick twain Who sampled the Tree of Knowledge for "gain" For better, for worse, far better thus Than going it alone with no one to cuss. COME, SMILE AWHILE Come, smile awhile with me, My cheer brings smiles to thee. But, when you smile, Think as of yore Of the tales galore 'Bout friends and folks whom we adore And extends from ear to year. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN A vision of Franklin came in the night Of a key and a message "Let there be Light." By the might of his brain lightning flashed white O'er "a string and a key" tied to a kite. The key and the message that came with the kite Opened Life's trail to a world of delight. Each ray of the beacon grew in its might 'Till Darkness and Demons fled from its sight. Relentless Old Time, the Father of Blight, Called from Darkness God's Apostle of Light. The Earth, his tomb, will glow always bright Like stars God lit for the curtain of night. REJECTED VOLUNTEER Dedicated to Dr. W. H. Richards, By His Friend, Lucy D. A. Tipton All hail to thee! Strong Scion of thy noble state, Loving her with a love so deep, so true, so great When thou wert but a laddie, leaving thy roof tree, To give thy life if needed, to keep Virginia free. No thought of fear or danger entered thy brave soul Thy grief so real, o'er message "sure babies can't enroll" As bomb did blast thy high hopes to be a soldier true. Undaunted still, great ardor led to thick of fight, Where brave men all were watching, fearing for thy life, In love and praise the idol of soldiers and of men And now the war is over, pipes the dove of peace — But the heart that in anguish fought for thy state's release Is the same that now is striving countless friend's to bless. When deep down in the valley of grief they must go, Beside them sure, you're walking while your eyes with tears o'erflow; If happy, then you're joyous, merry as the best, This the Laddie, tho 'tis fifty years or more He's the same fine Laddie that he was in Sixty-four, When he trudged home to mother with tales of war galore. 4. (Was in Co. "E," Picket's Division, 8th Virginia Infantry.) *'Too young to fight but not to cheer." THE KAISER'S GETHSEMENE It was on Friday night, November 7, 1918 — four days before the signing of the Armistice — that I sought repose as the clock struck ten. The receiver of my mental periscope was as clear of cloud or fog as the crisp air that lulled me to sleep, playing Aeolian airs on the wireless receiver of my brain. These gentle zephyrs grew into a storm which carried me in its teeth, until, weary of its load, left me on the brink of the River of Doubt. Desolation was apparent, as if a tornado had swept every- thing to destruction, leaving the swollen river bearing her rubbish to the sea, whose roar seemed but reverberations of distant thunder. The Sun had slipped the mantle of night over the Earth. The boldest stars lent their jewelled Light of Hope — after the storm had passed. Looking in the direction in which the river was flowing, I beheld the figure of the Kaiser sitting on the brink of the River of Doubt, in the atttitude of prayer. My eyes were suddenly dimmed, as if a blinding flash of lightning hovered over the scene. On second sight it assumed the aspect of the Sun's relentless glow, when, to my astonish- ment, I beheld two figures, one unseen by me before — Queen Victoria in the attitude of supplication before her Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, on behalf of the fleeing storm-tossed King of War, Wilhelm. I had no preconceived idea of such an event. This vision confirmed my belief in mental telepathy. UBRARY OF CONGRESS 018 394 012 h ■^ m L. WARTKRS CO., PRINTERS