.. .>v...v)TTlE McKENZIE FRASiER 
 
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 9 2. 
 
 COBOaCHT DEPOSIT. 
 
Jagntfi at 3Fanry 
 
 In Free Verse 
 
 By 
 
 ScoTTiE M^Kenzie Frasier 
 
 ■•J 
 With an Introduction by Helen S. Woodruff 
 
 First Edition Published December, 1920 
 
 Copyright MCMXX 
 By Progressive Publishers 
 
 Published by 
 
 PROGRESSIVE PUBLISHERS 
 
 Wheeling, West Virginia 
 Chicago New York 
 
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 icC 27 1320 
 §)CU604773 
 
I 
 
 Dedicated 
 
 to 
 
 My Little Sister 
 
 Alleen 
 
 Who 
 
 Believes 
 
 in 
 
 Romance and Love 
 
Foreword 
 
 Once an art critic said : "The Realist paints 
 things as they are; the Impressionist paints 
 as they seem to him; and the Futurist paints 
 things not as they are nor as they seem but 
 as the Artist feels — the reaction upon the 
 Artist's heart." So these little verses are not 
 according to the laws of Rhyme and Meter; 
 they are not the product of labor but rather 
 a spontaneous outburst — they were written in 
 the same spirit as a child builds Golden Castles 
 in Sunny Spain. 
 
 Scot tie McKenzie Frasier. 
 
Introduction 
 
 Do you remember how at tlie end of "Peter 
 Pan" Maud Adams used to ask the children pres- 
 ent if they believed in fairies? That is what this 
 Introduction is going to ask you, "Grown-ups." 
 
 Once upon a time in the foothills of Alabama's 
 Blue Ridge Mountains, in a dear old white pil- 
 lared house surrounded by gigantic sentinel-trees, 
 there was born a little girl whose eyes were dark 
 and wide with wonder. The village near her home 
 was called "Tal La De Ga", or to translate from 
 the Indian tongue: "Bride-of-the-Mountains"; and 
 all 'round about it, in woods and streams and 
 fields, the fairies lived. 
 
 Now this little girl believed in fairies — she 
 believed with her whole heart and soul before 
 she knew anything whatever about the world, or 
 people, or things — or sadness. She knew that in 
 the flowers there dwelt always the Fairy Queen 
 of Growing Things; that in the trees the Fairies- 
 of-the-Dancing-Breezes clapped their hands. She 
 understood full well — ^tho' no one had ever told her 
 so — that in the Brook by the Rock the Spray 
 Sprites spun their web of foamy, diamond-dusted 
 lace. She had seen them do it! She knew, too, that 
 Rainbow Fairies lived in the clouds and were the 
 souls of earth's Flower-fairies, glorified. All these 
 things, and more, she knew. And she used to think 
 and dream about them when old Mr. Moon-man 
 climbed slowly up into the sky to peep in through 
 the vines where the mocking-bird sang. Such 
 knowledge made her very happy; and she would 
 go to sleep and bob down, down, down, down to 
 the land of Nod where the Night Fairies loved 
 her well. 
 
 But all this was before the day when she dis- 
 covered those wonderful books in the library 
 which had belonged to everyone she herself be- 
 longed to for generations and generations! When 
 she discovered those books a new fairy came 
 into her bi^ little heart— the Fairy Who Loved 
 to Learn. From that day on this Sprite perched 
 
with her upon tlie arm of her Daddy's deep arm- 
 chair where she sat and spelled out all the in- 
 teresting rhymes. It accompanied her afield, 
 opening her Make-believe eyes so that she could 
 see all the fairies everywhere. It even cuddled 
 nearby when she sat at her Mother's knee listen- 
 ing long hours to Shelly, Keats and Wordsworth. 
 Tennyson, too, this learned fairy knew. And so 
 now when the mocking-^bird sang her his good- 
 night song from the vine she would kneel each 
 night and say: 
 
 "O Jesus, make me a really truly poet like 
 Tennyson. One who can tell others about the 
 secrets that fairies teach me." 
 
 And so it was that the years went by, and the 
 little girl grew into a maiden whose glossy brown 
 braids were twisted into a grown-up-lady's knot; 
 she went to college. The Fairy Who Loved to 
 Learn went with her. During her years of study 
 at the Judson, and as student and writer of fic- 
 tion at Columbia, this fairy was her friend. Later 
 it taught her how to write successful interviews 
 with the Big Folk of the Earth, who, like her, 
 were big because they still had the heart of a 
 child! 
 
 But during all these busy years there was one 
 thing that both of them had somehow forgotten 
 for a spell — the little girl's poet-prayer. Now It 
 is written in words of golden promise upon that 
 part of the fairy's Come-true Kingdom where God 
 lives, that no prayer shall ever go unanswered — 
 and so it was that when this grown-up little girl 
 not many moons ago left the big city, New York, 
 which she loved so dearly, to return to her 
 beloved Alabama, she found herself again in a 
 rambling old Southern home surrounded by trees 
 and singing birds — then her childhood dream re- 
 turned and filled her heart. She wrote this book 
 of verse — a book sparkling with all the secrets 
 that the fairies had taught her: Hope, Cheer, 
 Belief, Forgivness, Understanding, Truth and 
 Love. HELEN SMITH WOODRUFF. 
 
 September, 1920. 
 
Contents 
 
 The Gifts. 
 
 Plea to Life 
 
 Would I Know You? 
 
 Let Me Be Kind. 
 
 The Wanderer's Regret. 
 
 Why? 
 
 The Thought of You. 
 
 Regret. 
 
 Only One Hour. 
 
 The Butterfly. 
 
 The Poet. 
 
 Thee and Me. 
 
 I Can Forgive. 
 
 Minnehaha Falls. 
 
 God's Plan. 
 
 The Rainbow. 
 
 Poetry. 
 
 The Laborer. 
 
 The Light of Love. 
 
 A First Night. 
 
 Come Back. (Love Song). 
 
 The Woman Who Cares. 
 
 The Queen. 
 
 My Friend. 
 
 I Would Trust You StiU. 
 
 The Things I Love. 
 
 The Sinner. 
 
 Since You Went Away. 
 
 Glimpses of Heaven. 
 
 Never Let Me Know. 
 
 Too Late. 
 
 Life. 
 
 Had You Not Come. 
 
 What I Want Most. 
 
 One Perfect Day. 
 
 The Rebel. 
 
 You. 
 
 I Think of Thee. 
 
 The Tramp. 
 
 V/hat You Have Meant to Me 
 
 I Love You. 
 
 When Fm With You. 
 
 Death. 
 
Scottie McKenzie Frasier 
 
The Gifts 
 
 Give me a book to read, 
 
 Give me health, 
 
 Give me joy in simple things. 
 
 Give me an eye for beauty, 
 
 A tongue for truth, 
 
 A hand for work, 
 
 A heart that loves, 
 
 A sympathy that understands. 
 
 Give me neither malice nor envy ; 
 
 But a true kindness 
 
 And a noble common sense. 
 
 And at the close of each day 
 
 Give me work to do, 
 
 And a friend with whom 
 
 I can be silent. 
 
 (PUBLISHERS' NOTE: The above prayer-poem 
 won the first prize in the contest conducted by 
 the Alabama Federation of Women's Clubs, No- 
 vember, 1920. Mr. W. T. Sheehan, editor of The 
 Montgomery Advertiser, in conveying the deci- 
 sion to Mrs. J. Brevard Jones, President of the 
 Federation, said: "I am giving the first place to 
 the prayer-poem, "The Gifts,' because of its origi- 
 nality, its simplicity and its native power." 
 
Plea to Life 
 
 Life, break me if you will, 
 
 Test me to see if I be wanting; 
 
 Take from me what I hold dearest, 
 
 Strike me dumb with sorrow. 
 
 Give me love, then deny it me. 
 
 Let me drink of success and failure; 
 
 Smite me with agonizing pain. 
 
 Kill my ambitions, 
 
 Shatter my dreams and — again! 
 
 Life, though you demand your heaviest toll 
 
 O, Life, let not bitterness stain my soul. 
 
Would I Know You? 
 
 Would I know you? 
 
 If years should pass, 
 
 And I should not hear 
 
 The sound of your voice, 
 
 Or feel the pulsing of 
 
 My blood like wine. 
 
 When I hold you to this heart of mine ? 
 
 Would I know you 
 
 If miles separated you from me 
 
 And if rumor left unspoken no word 
 
 To poison my trust in you? 
 
 O, heart of my heart, 
 
 I would know 
 
 The perfume of your breath. 
 
 Were it wafted to me 
 
 From the distant stars ; 
 
 I would know the music of your voice 
 
 Were it mingled with the strains 
 
 Of an angel's song; 
 
 And I would know your presence 
 
 Had I been asleep for ages 
 
 And awakened and you were near. 
 
 It is the soul of you 
 
 That fires my heart 
 
 That makes me kneel at your holy shrine 
 
 For the Gods so fashioned you 
 
 That I might know 
 
 And single you out of the multitude 
 
 To be for all ages this mate of mine. 
 
Let Me Be Kind 
 
 Not for riches or fame do I pray 
 
 But just this one thing 
 
 I ask for each day : 
 
 O, Lord, in thine infinite plan, 
 
 Let me be kind 
 
 To my fellow man. 
 
 A Wanderer's Regret 
 
 I come and go, 
 
 I can not stay 
 
 In any one place 
 
 For more than a day, 
 
 Before the wander-lust 
 
 Calls me away; 
 
 Yet to leave my new-made friends 
 
 Brings a pain to my heart. 
 
 And it makes me grieve 
 
 That it ever must be so — ' 
 
 New friends and old friends left behind 
 
 While I follow the trails that wind and wind. 
 
Why? 
 
 Why do the depths of your eyes beguile? 
 Why do your red Hps tempt as they smile? 
 Why do the roses fresh with the dew 
 Bring to me only a picture of you? 
 
 The Thought of You 
 
 You are the golden hills 
 
 On the sky of my heart, 
 
 And the soul of me 
 
 Can never be crushed; 
 
 Now shall I 
 
 Ever be slave 
 
 To any Fate ; 
 
 For the thought of you 
 
 Will be a gleam 
 
 Of beauty, that will shine 
 
 In any sordid life of mine. 
 
Regret 
 
 By a careless act, 
 
 A thoughtless word, 
 
 I wounded a human heart. 
 
 Darkness has settled o'er the world. 
 
 No stars come out to shine, 
 
 The blackness of the night oppresses me. 
 
 But the radiance of all the suns 
 
 Would seem a lesser light 
 
 To the joy that it would bring, 
 
 If on some fairy's wing 
 
 Could be brought back to me 
 
 The cruel words of mine 
 
 That so wounded thee. 
 
Only One Hour 
 
 Not for heaven or mercy do I pray, 
 
 But grant me one hour 
 
 With the heart of my heart; 
 
 Only one hour, 
 
 Ere hfe and I do part, 
 
 Grant just one hour. 
 
 Only one hour. 
 
The Butterfly 
 
 My love has no bounds of earth and sky, 
 
 No Hmitations of time and space; 
 
 It was born of ages past, when man 
 
 Was only a dream in God's heart; 
 
 Through all the eons I've loved you. 
 
 Once when you were a butterfly 
 
 And still in my silken cage was I, 
 
 You forsook the flowers 
 
 And stopped your merry dance in the yellow 
 
 sun 
 To linger near me; 
 
 I was a butterfly ere the day was done. 
 Oh ! the joy that was in your eye 
 When I came from my prison home to be 
 
 your mate. 
 Centuries later I was taken a Grecian slave 
 To the court of the Roman Empire, 
 And the Emperor smiled as he ordered 
 My chains asunder 
 And leaning near me whispered : 
 "My little bride." 
 
And we remembered together 
 
 The lives we had lived in Egypt, Persia and 
 Ancient India. 
 
 God's cycles move slowly. 
 
 But last night as we sat 
 
 Together in the park, 
 
 That little wooded plaza, 
 
 In the heart of the noisy city. 
 
 There came again the lighted spark ; 
 
 I knew you to be my mate down the ages. 
 
 I wondered if you too knew or did you 
 remember, 
 
 My Emperor ? when you whispered : 
 
 "AH these years I've waited for you, 
 
 I knew that neither deep nor high 
 
 Could keep me from my own original butter- 
 fly." 
 
The Poet 
 
 The world has its beauty, 
 
 The bird has its song, 
 
 The flower its perfume 
 
 That gladdens the heart, 
 
 Though it lives not long. 
 
 The philosopher has his vision. 
 
 Which lifts man's burdens 
 
 And lessens his care. 
 
 The Poet has his cross 
 
 Else he could not stir men's souls so deep. 
 
 Not in repose nor quiet sleep 
 
 Comes to the poet this flash or spark, 
 
 Which quickens the brain and wrings one's 
 
 heart ; 
 Some time, some where, the poet knelt beneath 
 
 the cross, 
 And like the One who died on the Tree, 
 He drank sorrow's cup for you and me; 
 That we might know without feeling 
 The cut of the thorn. 
 And enduring the blow. 
 How the soul can suffer 
 And how the heart can love. 
 He knows the gold from the shining dross, 
 For the poet has kissed the cross. 
 
Thee and Me 
 
 If I had only an hour to live 
 
 I'd want to live it with thee. 
 
 If the world and all its beauty 
 
 Were given me 
 
 I'd cherish it only long enough 
 
 To give it all to thee. 
 
 If only a day to live 
 
 Was allotted me, 
 
 I would ask the Maker of days and years 
 
 To give this my only day, to thee. 
 
I Can Forgive 
 
 I can forgive the harsh words you've spoken, 
 I can forgive your frowns and forget my tears, 
 I can forgive the lonely hours when you left 
 
 me; 
 But my illusion of love you've broken, — 
 This I can never, never, forgive. 
 
Minnehaha Falls 
 
 In the wilds of Minnesota 
 
 Are the falls of Minnehaha. 
 
 Longfellow made you, Laughing Waters, 
 
 To ripple down the ages, 
 
 To bring joy to many children. 
 
 And a smile to the hearts of sages. 
 
 Artists have painted your sparkling hues, 
 
 They've immortalized your rocks, 
 
 Your flowers, bright with dews; 
 
 But once beside you 
 
 We stood — he and I — > 
 
 Forgetful of the earth, the sky; 
 
 And now your gurgling laughter 
 
 Means not poet or artist to me, 
 
 Minnehaha, Laughing Waters, 
 
 Thou art love, thou art love. 
 
 Ever thus will it so be 
 
 Always, always love to me. 
 
God*s Plan 
 
 I sat near the sea: 
 
 The last rays of the sun 
 
 Were reflected to me 
 
 In scarlet and gold. 
 
 Two children came 
 
 Beneath my sheltering rock, 
 
 One caught up a handful of clean white sand 
 
 ''You are a tell-tale-tattler," the older cried, 
 
 As the sand in the face of the younger 
 
 Curly-head she plied. 
 
 Two lovers came upon the view : 
 
 She upbraiding him, "You are untrue". 
 
 The sparkling jewel from her finger 
 
 She scornfully withdrew 
 
 And gave to him; 
 
 Haughtily she turned and walked away, 
 
 The ring he madly threw into the bay. 
 
 Next came a couple of maturer years : 
 Quietly they sat looking out o'er the calm blue 
 
 sea; 
 In silence each drank deep of the beauty 
 Of that twilight hour. 
 
 So unlike hot-headed youth were they, 
 
 I marvelled and wondered why 
 
 That neither the children nor the lovers. 
 
 Heeded not the grandeur of that perfect sky, 
 
 Their eyes beholding '^^w not 
 
The loveliness of the day; 
 
 In anger and with heart aches each had gone, 
 
 To nurse his grievance 
 
 In his own particular way. 
 
 The oldest couple having learned to overlook 
 
 Life's trifles, sat in peace 
 
 And enjoyed the quiet ending of the day. 
 
 In memory oft' have I lived again 
 
 Those moments by the sea; 
 
 For there I learned, 
 
 A secret of Gods' plan: 
 
 Not childhood nor high spirited youth 
 
 Is the best part of the life of man, 
 
 But the sun-set time, 
 
 When life's lessons we've learned : 
 
 When we have dropped from our natures 
 
 Pettiness, ungoverned tempers, hasty and cruel 
 
 judgments. 
 And in their place keep only love 
 And tolerance for our fellow man; 
 Surely this must be God's plan. 
 
The Rainbow 
 
 The sun smiles and tints the flowers, 
 The clouds turn to April showers; 
 Through the heavens the sunbeams dance, 
 Flirting with the raindrop's glance. 
 But when the raindrop weds a sunbeam, 
 And the other beams dance by, 
 The sun announces their marriage 
 By painting a rainbow in the sky. 
 
Poetry 
 
 Poetry? . . . 
 
 The smile on a baby's face, 
 
 The perfume of a rose, 
 
 The laugh of happy children, 
 
 The Autumn wind that blows, 
 
 The bright wings of the butterfly. 
 
 The crimson and gold of the evening sky. 
 
The Laborer 
 
 O, Laborer! 
 
 Some hearts ache for you 
 
 As you stand with feet buried in mud, 
 
 Digging, lifting, forever toiling. 
 
 That the tall building may grow. 
 
 If once they look upon your smile 
 
 Their pity for you will be no more ; 
 
 Nor will they wonder why 
 
 This joy is in your soul. 
 
 For they will know 
 
 By the radiance of your face 
 
 That you see not the mud, 
 
 But the building as it grows. 
 
 You look up and behold 
 
 The blue of the sky, 
 
 Your heart is in your work. 
 
 You are not a toiler 
 
 Who merely spades 
 
 Clod after clod, 
 
 You are a creator, 
 
 You are like God. 
 
The Light of Love 
 
 I am glad I've loved you 
 
 For no sorrow now can come to me, 
 
 No blow cruel enough to crush my joy 
 
 For always the vision of you 
 
 Will be to me, 
 
 Like a faithful light 
 
 Is to the sailor 
 
 On a storm-tossed sea. 
 
A First Night 
 
 The play tonight was amusement for many; 
 
 To the actors behind the curtain 
 
 I was professional success, 
 
 To some it was labor for bread. 
 
 As they shifted the scenery, few smiles, if any. 
 
 Lift up their hard and deep-lined faces, 
 
 As they converted drawing-rooms 
 
 Into country places. 
 
 The leading lady played well her part. 
 
 A rose she threw into the box 
 
 Where sat the playwright, 
 
 For she knew what that night meant to him : 
 
 In his life it was his triumphant day, 
 
 For his soul was expressed in the play. 
 
 The critics acclaimed it to be really art. 
 
 To him it was as a child is to the mother. 
 
 It was more than success, it was his heart. 
 
Come Back 
 
 (A Love Song) 
 
 I miss you in the morning 
 And at the close of day, 
 
 I miss you in the spring-time 
 
 And along the moon-lit way. 
 
 I love you always, always. 
 
 Forever and a year; 
 Come back, come back, to me, 
 
 I am so lonely, dear. 
 
 Come back and let me rest 
 
 In the sunshine of your smile, 
 
 Come back and make my life 
 One perfect, golden while. 
 
The Woman Who Cares 
 
 ]\Iiles away, yet waiting for me 
 Is the woman who cares ; 
 For her sake I'll win and be free 
 To go to her with a clean, strong hand. 
 Her faith is ever my guiding star 
 And my destiny I will command ; 
 For always I feel her presence filled with trust, 
 Whispering to me : "^^'in, you must ; win, you 
 must". 
 
The Queen 
 
 The lumber king came into our midst, 
 
 ]\rarried he was, we knew; 
 
 Surely his wife is a veritable queen, 
 
 Tall and princess-like, 
 
 I fashioned her in my dream. 
 
 Oft did he quote the wisdom of his mate : 
 
 A learned woman, the men protested, 
 
 And together we dreaded her arrival. 
 
 A volume of poetry he produced one day, 
 
 Written by the wife we feared. 
 
 A queen, a philosopher, a poet. 
 
 How we hated her coming ! 
 
 Why should he bring her to our crude Ititle 
 town, 
 
 To make us feel our commonness? 
 
 He took a cottage near the bay, 
 
 She came ; 
 
 This we knew, though none of the village-folk 
 had seen her. 
 
 "Close to her castle, the queen keeps", laughed' 
 the town wag. 
 
 Yet, every one had seen a girl who had ac- 
 companied her. 
 
 Not beautiful nor tall nor princess-like, was 
 she. 
 
 The children played with her upon the beach, 
 
 The older boys and girls swam races with her, 
 
 And revelled in her merry-making ; 
 
 All wondered who she was. 
 
 Finally, it was suggested by one of the women, 
 
 Who traveled sometimes to the cities: 
 
"Probably the girl is hand-maid to the queen", 
 "Are you the great man's maid?" one 
 
 ventured. 
 Smiling sweetly, she nodded her little brown 
 
 head. 
 "Your name?" demanded Rhoden, the Beau 
 
 Brummel of the place. 
 "Call me Dare", she begged. 
 From that day on, Dare became the favorite 
 
 of the village. 
 She gave books to the elderly ones, 
 And good things to the sick. 
 The fortunes of the youths she told; 
 Declaring to any heights ascend they could 
 If only study hard they would. 
 One day the most curious of us inquired : 
 "What kind of a person is this wife of our 
 
 great man?" 
 The little maid laughed and in the manner of 
 
 a child replied : 
 "A strange mixture is she, 
 For the life of me, 
 I can not her describe". 
 
 The lumber king returned from a trip. 
 
 "We will see her now", we thougth. 
 
 To the train a number of us went. 
 
 Standing near the depot was 
 
 Our king's big touring machine ; 
 
 But to our regret therein was no queen. 
 
 " 'T would be beneath her dignity to meet a 
 
 train", we decided. 
 The black engine came in sight, 
 And from the door of his private car 
 
The lumber king strode forth. 
 To our horror, 
 
 Plain little Dare ran up the steps 
 And jumped into his arms! 
 He held her very close and laughed, 
 As she hugged him like a child. 
 The villagers rubbed their eyes and gasped. 
 Several hi'aver than the rest. 
 Ventured near to welcome him home again. 
 ''My wife you know, for she has written me 
 Of loving each and every one of you". 
 Dare smiled and her eyes twinkled mischiev- 
 ously, 
 As she cried : 
 
 ''Come to see him and his little maid ! 
 Please come soon, do not wait. 
 For all of you owe me many visits". 
 
 "Why she is just like a little child!" 
 
 Said the oldest citizen of the bay. 
 
 "She'll never grow up", declared Rhoden — 
 
 Whom later the king sent off to college. 
 
 But who would wish her different ! 
 
 Dare she was when first we met, 
 
 And Dare, always she will be 
 
 To the village folk and me ; 
 
 Better every day we love her 
 
 This child-woman, poet and philosopher. 
 
My Friend 
 
 I long for thee to know 
 What thou art to me. 
 Though I have no words 
 To tell my love to thee, 
 I must whisper in thine ear 
 I wish that I might be 
 Just such a friend to thee 
 As thou hast been to me. 
 
I Would Trust You Still 
 
 If the whole world should doubt 
 
 I would trust you still, 
 
 If Fate should take me away from you 
 
 I would know in my heart 
 
 That you would always, always be true ; 
 
 Even though I were gone away so far 
 
 As the earth is from the distant star. 
 
The Things I Love 
 
 A butterfly dancing in the sunlight, 
 
 A bird singing to his mate 
 
 The whispering pines, 
 
 The restless sea, 
 
 The gigantic mountains, 
 
 A stately tree, 
 
 The rain upon the roof. 
 
 The sun at early dawn, 
 
 A boy with rod and hook, 
 
 The babble of a shady brook, 
 
 A woman with her smiling babe, 
 
 A man whose eyes are kind and wise, 
 
 Youth that is eager and unafraid. 
 
 When all is said I do love best 
 
 A little home where love abides, 
 
 And where there's kindness, peace and rest. 
 
The Sinner 
 
 I have sinned in the eyes of man 
 
 I have broken his laws 
 
 And defied his ways, 
 
 Traveled my own road 
 
 And gambled my days. 
 
 I've played too much 
 
 Creating nothing worth wihle, 
 
 I've squandered my time 
 
 And wasted my worth, 
 
 Ignored man's wishes 
 
 Forgotten God's church. 
 
 But only one regret 
 
 Comes at the close of Life's day, 
 
 I broke a heart 
 
 When I Vv^ent astray. 
 
Since You Went Away 
 
 Since you went away 
 There is no sunshine in my day — 
 Everything seems to go wrong; 
 In my soul there is no song, 
 In my Hfe no perfect while, 
 On my face no radiant smile, 
 I can only think of the happy yesterday- 
 There is no joy since you went away. 
 
Glimpse of Heaven 
 
 Today a bird at my window sang, 
 Today a child into my face smiled, 
 Today wise words into my ears rang, 
 Today love came and my heart beguiled. 
 To some these are incidents, merely, 
 But to me they are so clearly 
 Glimpses of Heaven. 
 
 Never Let Me Know 
 
 If in your heart ever dies this flame 
 And your love should wither as the rose, 
 Go away and leave me 
 But never let me know. 
 
Too Late 
 
 Oh ! why did you wait 
 
 So long to come into my life? 
 
 Was it a trick of Fate 
 
 To send you to me 
 
 Years too late, too late? 
 
 In my dreams I hear 
 You calling, ever calling me; 
 Then I waken and I fear, 
 Lest the memory of your smile 
 May beguile and I'll go to thee. 
 
 Was it the cruelty of Fate 
 That kept you from me, 
 Then sent you too late, too late? 
 Forever like this must it be — 
 I must not, must not 
 Go to thee. 
 
Life 
 
 You came and I played, 
 Yet always there was a longing- 
 I knew not why, nor for what 
 But ever unsatisfied was I. 
 
 Experience came with Poverty, Disappoint- 
 ment, Sorrow, 
 
 Ambition and Disillusion, Health and Sick- 
 ness. 
 
 A little dazed and stunned was I 
 
 By life's untangled mysteries. 
 
 Still I was unsatisfied. 
 
 Work came and interest too. 
 
 Wealth followed in close pursuit, 
 
 Fame brought honors and costly gifts ; 
 
 Yet still there was that smoldering desire 
 
 For what? Yea, I knew not. 
 
 At last came Love, not Passion, 
 
 Love, clad in white robes of purity and truth: 
 
 I bowed my head, so unworthy did I feel. 
 
 But love was unselfish and kind. 
 
 At last the hunger of my soul was satisfied. 
 
Had You Not Come 
 
 Had you not come into my life 
 
 Ignorant still I'd be of love, 
 
 And what the wild passion means ; 
 
 This longing of my soul unsatisfied, 
 
 I'd never have known. 
 
 Though my heart aches tonight. 
 
 Yet would it be right 
 
 For me to say: 
 
 I wish you had never come 
 
 And the' still depths of my nature 
 
 Had never been disturbed? 
 
 O, God, not that ! 
 
What I Want Most 
 
 No, I will not ask of Fate to give me beauty. 
 
 Nor to give me fame or character so strong, 
 
 That I will not fail of duty, 
 
 I will not pray for ease, 
 
 Or contentment with riches. 
 
 I will not beg for any of these precious things ; 
 
 Yet I trust Fate will give 
 
 Me work to do 
 
 And I can't keep from wishing 
 
 For a home and you. 
 
One Perfect Day 
 
 For one happy day I was yours, 
 
 We wandered o'er the hills 
 
 And gathered flowers; 
 
 We played as children. 
 
 The world was ours 
 
 So short a time and then — 
 
 Time has passed, still I can not pray ; 
 
 Yet, the Maker of all joys must know 
 
 I am thankful for that perfect day. 
 
The Rebel 
 
 I long to be a rebel 
 And do as I gaily please, 
 To live like a butterfly- 
 Dancing in the summer breeze. 
 To sing as do the birds 
 When the song is in my throat, 
 To lie under the tall oak trees 
 To let my dreams unguided float ; 
 To dance on the green, 
 Caring not if I am seen 
 To throw conventions away. 
 To live my life every day 
 With freedom like the birds and honey-bees. 
 
You 
 
 I look at the evening star 
 
 And think of the times when you and I 
 
 Wandered together beneath a summer sky. 
 
 I look at the new born moon 
 
 And remember the hour when you and I sat 
 beneath a tree 
 
 And you whispered your soul's deepest long- 
 ings to me. 
 
 And I think of the day when you and I 
 
 Climbed the hill-side 
 
 And sitting: near an old moss covered stone 
 rugged and gray, 
 
 You took me in your arms 
 
 And held me close, and we longed to stay 
 
 For ever and ever from the world away. 
 
 Time has passed; still, 
 
 I long to live again that day. 
 
 For the depths of the heavens blue. 
 
 The green of the hills 
 
 Speak to me only of you. 
 
I Think of Thee 
 
 Alone I sit and think of thee, 
 
 Think of the hours you spent with me, 
 
 Think of the things we planned to do 
 
 Think of the days when my world was you. 
 
 The moon, the birds, the tall oak tree 
 
 All remind me of only thee 
 
 And though the world will never know 
 
 I love you, love you, love you so. 
 
The Tramp 
 
 The woods, the road, the tall pine tree, 
 
 Are each in their way calling me, 
 
 I long to stay with you, I love; 
 
 But the moon, the sky and the stars above 
 
 Are saying to me: "Come away, come away". 
 
 Oh! dear heart, 
 
 I can not stay; 
 
 For the wilds of the forest 
 
 Call loudly today. 
 
 I long to linger a golden while 
 
 To drink of your beauty 
 
 And bask in your smile. 
 
 But go I must 
 
 I can not stay 
 
 The call to the tramp is too strong today. 
 
 It is the fault of the sky, 
 
 The mountain trail. 
 
 The tall pine tree; 
 
 For they keep on calling, 
 
 Calling me. 
 
What You Have Meant to Me 
 
 If you should come tonight 
 
 Would you love to know : 
 
 That all these years through 
 
 I've been waiting for you? 
 
 I've kept my heart 
 
 As you left it; 
 
 No flattering phrase has tempted, 
 
 No love songs have lured, 
 
 No stranger has entered in. 
 
 That the vision of you has guided 
 
 Each faltering step of mine, 
 
 And the memory of your face 
 
 Has been to me like wine 
 
 That quickens the pulse 
 
 And stimulates the mind ! 
 
 Oft in the dark I've trembled 
 
 At the noise of the wind, 
 
 Then the thought of you 
 
 Would make me brave — 
 
 For your sake I've prayed : 
 
 Let me be all he would have me be, 
 
 And when he comes 
 
 Let him find me beautiful. 
 
 In thought and deed 
 
 Too big for sect or creed; 
 
 And when he looks 
 
 Into my face 
 
 Let him see no ugly marks of care, 
 
 Of doubt or shattered dreams, 
 
 Let him find only love carved there. 
 
I Love You 
 
 I love you in the morning, 
 
 When the flowers are bright with dew 
 
 I love you in the evening 
 
 When the sun in a triumph of gold 
 
 Bids farewell to the tired earth 
 
 Leaving her the darkness to enfold, 
 
 Then sinks behind the distant hill. 
 
 I love you in the night time 
 
 When the stars come out and flirt 
 
 With the moonbeams above the mill. 
 
 I loved you in the ages past 
 
 Where memory never dwells ; 
 
 I'll love you in eternity 
 
 For ever and a day. 
 
 Go, my love, 
 
 I can not bid you stay. 
 
 My love is not of fleeting time 
 
 So w^ander without fear; 
 
 For I'll be waiting for you ; 
 
 Yes, waiting, waiting always, 
 
 For you, my dear. 
 
When I'm With You 
 
 Now that you have gone away 
 
 There is so much I long to say. 
 
 When I am with you, dear, 
 
 When I feel that you are near 
 
 The joy of your presence 
 
 Makes me dumb. 
 
 When you are with me 
 
 W^ords seem too empty 
 
 To express what's in my breast. 
 
 And in the silence of those moments 
 
 When you hold me to your heart, 
 
 You must know what I long to tell, 
 
 You must feel the ecstasy of my being; 
 
 And hear the music of the words unspoken, 
 
 The promise of my love unbroken ; 
 
 You must hear the song 
 
 That's in my throat. 
 
 And feel the music 
 
 Of each silent note 
 
 As your lips you press to mine. 
 
 And you must know that my love 
 
 For ever and ever will be thine. 
 
Death 
 
 Death took away my Friend, 
 
 Sorrow reigned in his home ; 
 
 His wife and children wept 
 
 And for the future saw no joy. 
 
 Those who came to do him honor 
 
 Spoke in whispers and were sad. 
 
 Beside the dead the watch I kept. 
 
 The very stillness of the house 
 
 Filled my heart with sinister dread; 
 
 Upon my hands I bowed my head. 
 
 Some moments later, when I looked up 
 
 My Friend was standing near. 
 
 He seemed the same 
 
 Save for a radiance 
 
 That shone upon his face. 
 
 The lines of worry and care 
 
 Were no longer written there. 
 
 He spoke in his old familiar way: 
 
 "For me let there be no sorrow — 
 
 Death is merely a birth, 
 
 With every birth goes pain. 
 
 Look on my body lying here 
 
 As you would upon my old garment; 
 
 Wear no black for me, 
 
 But know that this night 
 
 I was born again — 
 
 So weep not for me 
 
 Nor wish me back; 
 
 My life is full of joy and freedom". 
 
 He vanished as silently as he came. 
 
 I rose and looked 
 
Upon his face of clay; 
 
 There was a smile so lovely 
 
 That I knew he had beheld a vision 
 
 As he entered the Dawn 
 
 Of his New Day. 
 
 No, I will not grieve for him, nor sorrow ; 
 
 For on that night, 
 
 When I kept watch with the dead 
 
 I learned Death's secret: 
 
 For lo, Death is a Gate 
 
 Through which man must pass 
 
 To enter into a bigger, better life. 
 
 So when comes the final call 
 
 Proudly in I'll walk. 
 
 With spirit undaunted 
 
 And head held high — 
 
 I will not cringe or fear 
 
 When that Gate I near.