PS 3525 
 
 nil6 
 V4 
 1920 
 Copy 1 
 
 '^tv^ti 
 
 with the compliments of 
 Waldo Lee McAtee 
 
Copyright, 1920, by 
 Waldo Lee McAtee 
 
 Published by the Author 
 
 Washington, D. C. 
 
 1920 
 
 g)CU605062 
 DEC 17 1920 
 
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 A PEACEFUL ROOM 
 
 "For solitude is thought, and to think is to live." 
 
 — y^ff^'^y ParnoL 
 
 From folk and fuss you guard me well, 
 
 Give me unbroken peace; 
 The rain may pour, the storm may blow. 
 
 Your comfort does not cease. 
 
 Your four good walls shut out the world. 
 
 Its bustle and its strife. 
 And give me boon of solitude 
 
 And thought which is real life. 
 
 Within them I can hide away. 
 
 Unknown, unsought, alone; 
 My brain can glow with thoughts that flow 
 
 With naught to mar their tone. 
 
 Anon a verse, anon a tale 
 
 YouVe helped me to create. 
 And I assure you now, dear room. 
 
 My gratitude is great. 
 
 [1] 
 
SOMEONE 
 
 Yes, I am looking again, 
 Forgive me if I seem to stare. 
 Some things about you amaze me — 
 Those curls and the sheen of your hair. 
 Forgive me the worse fault of gazing 
 Not for your sake but my own. 
 For you and your ways so remind me 
 Of another, a distant someone. 
 
 Oh, of someone, someone. 
 Someone who is blithe and gay, 
 Whose elfin self all my thought claims 
 Where e*er and what e'er the day; 
 Someone who puzzles yet pleases, 
 Now so brave, now very shy. 
 Someone who is most alluring. 
 Someone I'd love to call mine. 
 
 [2] 
 
That arch look once again, 
 
 Dimple once more just the same, 
 
 So like you are, and so sweet, ah 
 
 You seem her almost but the name. 
 
 But should be false my remembrance 
 
 And the years all my dreams have undone, 
 
 Let me begin to adore you 
 
 And make you my only someone. 
 
 Oh, my someone, someone. 
 Someone who is blithe and gay. 
 Whose elfin self all my thought claims 
 Where e'er and what e'er the day; 
 Someone who puzzles yet pleases. 
 Now so brave, now very shy. 
 Someone who is most alluring, 
 Someone Vd love to call mine. 
 
 [3 
 
A MIRROR 
 
 What think you smiles when you smile into it, 
 And laughs with you when you are glad, 
 
 Reflects your concern, if only a bit, 
 
 And mourns with you when you are sad ? 
 
 The mirror you think of is not in my mind. 
 No, it's one beyond skill of mere art. 
 
 To your look, or your mood, it never is blind, 
 The face of your loving sweetheart. 
 
 14] 
 
TO THE ARBUTUS 
 
 Tiny flushed star of the springtime, 
 
 Bravely you defy the cold; 
 Despite the hardships of winter 
 
 You have prepared to unfold. 
 
 Lovely your trusses of blossoms 
 Under your rich leaves so green; 
 
 Lovelier still is your fragrance. 
 Dainty, delicious and keen. 
 
 Thrilling the soul with emotion. 
 Oh the heart-strings that you tie 
 
 Of fond ones who joyously seek you. 
 
 One breath, and "I love you," they sigh. 
 
 Your pretty cup is the sweetest 
 In all of the springtime's array; 
 
 Gladly we own that we owe you 
 For what we pledged on that day. 
 
 [5: 
 
I CANT GET MARRIED TILL THE NEXT 
 PEACH TIME 
 
 [An American Folk Song.] 
 
 Oh Silas and Reuben, 
 
 And you Tommy too, 
 Don't you come a'courtin* 
 
 Till mother tells you to — 
 
 For I am too little, 
 And I am too young. 
 And I ain't quite ready 
 For to marry you; 
 I can't get married 
 Till the next peach time. 
 And the peach tree 
 Ain't in blossom yet. 
 
 Who she tells the first. 
 And who she tells the last, 
 
 I don't care a straw 
 
 For that won't tie me fast — 
 
 For I am too little. 
 And I am too young. 
 And I ain't quite ready 
 For to marry you; 
 I can't get married 
 Till the next peach time. 
 And the peach tree 
 Ain't in blossom yet. 
 
 [6] 
 
There's just one I'll have 
 And lots of 'em I won't, 
 
 Come they all a'courtin' 
 I'll have to tell 'em don't — 
 
 And say: I am too little, 
 I And I am too young, 
 And I ain't quite ready 
 For to marry you; 
 I can't get married 
 Till the next peach time, 
 And the peach tree 
 Ain't in blossom yet. 
 
 When the good time comes 
 And the moon is right. 
 
 Tommy dear I'll say 
 Let it be tonight^ — 
 
 For I'm grown up now 
 And I ain't too young. 
 And I'm every bit ready 
 For to marry you; 
 We'll be gettin' married 
 In the old peach time, 
 And the fruit's lots sweeter 
 Than the flowers I'll bet. 
 
 7] 
 
A MEMORY RHYME 
 
 Sugar, salt, and indigo; 
 Sugar, salt, and indigo. 
 
 Thus I sang it as I ran. 
 Sent as mother's little man, 
 To the store for thus and so 
 In the days so long ago. 
 
 Surely other things were bought, 
 But of these I recall naught; 
 Recall singing, as I ran. 
 Proud as mother's little man, 
 Just the refrain I now know 
 Running in my memory so: 
 
 Sugar, salt, and indigo; 
 Sugar, salt, and indigo. 
 
 [8] 
 
VOICES OF THE MARCH WIND 
 
 Oh you frowsy, drowsy trees, 
 Hark to me! 
 Hark to me! 
 Hear my roaring. 
 Spring rains pouring, 
 You must hark to me. 
 Hard it is to wake you. 
 Hard then must I shake you. 
 Winter goes. Awake! 
 
 Oh ye timid little flowers. 
 List to me ! 
 List to me! 
 Hear my humming. 
 Spring is coming. 
 Listen well to me. 
 Lift up your sleepy heads. 
 Rise from your leafy beds. 
 Spring comes. Awake! 
 
 [9] 
 
THE HILLS 
 
 Oh where but in the rolling hills 
 Is every view a picture grand, 
 
 That charms, that thrills, that teaches so 
 The splendid beauty of the land? 
 
 Where ranked in ample swelling waves 
 The many smoothly turf-clad mounds 
 
 In-fold the flocks that peacefully 
 O'er-graze their terraced rounds. 
 
 In lands atilt the eye is drawn 
 
 To beauties on the plain concealed, 
 
 As ribbons brown of new-turned earth 
 Athwart the yellow-stubbled field. 
 
 Where brown meets blue so near at hand 
 One oft may see against the skies 
 
 The striving men, and plodding teams, 
 Outlined in true heroic guise. 
 
 And higher where the marching trees 
 Attempt to scale the rocky crest. 
 
 There beauty, quiet, solace, peace 
 Will woo the cares from any breast. 
 
 10 
 
A ROAD THROUGH SOUTHERN PINES 
 
 O long, soft-floored, mysterious aisle, 
 Neath thy many-columned, piney vault 
 Which stirs like a heaving bosom, as the wind 
 Forever whispers, "I love you, leaves, I love"; 
 Where, as I walk, the long soft needles of a droop- 
 ing branch 
 Brush my cheek, like the touch of a woman's hair, 
 Grateful to you am I, for your stillness, 
 In which the low chatter of the wren 
 Is a startling, though not discordant note. 
 My harsh step brings no protest 
 From the leafy carpet; I am free 
 To walk my humor out. 
 
 By action quench the ardor that consumes me. 
 Quench? did I say? Ah me! 
 Thy very sweetness further crowds my breast 
 With that tense pressure constant ever 
 In a heart which love has claimed. To some, 
 
 indeed. 
 It may in breaking yield the world's best prize; 
 Denied relief, my o*er-full heart would burst 
 But for thy healing balm, O peaceful woods. 
 
 Ill 
 
THE TRYST OF A-LAN AND LIN-FU. 
 
 LiN-FU. {On steps of a lightly built shrine^ 
 
 O Beauteous morn! 
 That brings to me my sweet, my loved A-lan, 
 Thy wondrous brightness pales beside the light 
 Of her dear eyes. Her face exceeds 
 In beauty e'en the rose, her breath the sweet 
 Violet itself would sweeten. Ah I know 
 A-lan is fairer far than words can tell, 
 Yet she is mine. What joy! How I am blessed, 
 With love of one who excels loveliness ! 
 This'" day the happiest of life will be, 
 For will not she her dear self give to me ? 
 Inside this shrine we meet, ah dear A-lan, 
 I go and wait thy coming, heart on fire. 
 
 {Enters temple^ after a little sits down^ leans 
 against the altar and sleeps^ 
 
 {Some time later^ on temple steps, appears 
 A-lan.) 
 A-LAN. Lin-fu, Lin-fu, 
 
 You must be there. Oh heart be still, I fear, 
 I fear I will be seen. Unmaidenly 
 Am I, but love, love brings me here. Lin-fu, 
 Beloved, I come, but please be there, don't fail. 
 
 {Enters shrine, sees the sleeping youth,) 
 He sleeps! Oh has he ceased to care for me. 
 Am I no more than that to him, that he 
 Can sleep at this set time, of days, the day? 
 
 [12] 
 
{Extends arms toward him.) 
 I love, but dare not clasp, 'twould be too bold. 
 Lin-fu, of all the dearest, yet you sleep. 
 How can you thus forget our tryst, our love? 
 ril leave a pledge to show that I am true. 
 
 {Fastens bangle on his breast.) 
 This bangle you admired in childhood days. 
 Another day now dear must we await. 
 Another day, would it were now, Lin-fu ! 
 
 {She leaves. Later Lin-fu awakes.) 
 Lin-fu: 
 
 Tve slept. Ah curse the lover who can sleep 
 When he awaits his heart's beloved prize. 
 A-lan, ah dear, why don't you come. My heart — 
 
 {Gesture.) 
 What's this, this bangle — Then she has been here. 
 Woe, woe that I should sleep, 
 
 {Runs about searching.) 
 
 and she is gone. 
 A-lan, the prize I've sought my whole life long. 
 Has come, has gone, is lost. Oh heart now break. 
 No longer seems my life worth while to keep. 
 Ye gods ! Your help ! I seek the endless sleep. 
 
 {Scatters the sacred flame, firing the flimsy 
 temple and perishes in its midst , crying:) 
 A-lan, my love of all on earth the best, 
 I go, I go, may you be ever blest. 
 
 [13] 
 
{A-lan at a window in her home.) 
 
 A- LAN : 
 
 What's that? Oh heart, I fear to think I see 
 What I do see. The temple burns, Lin-fu, 
 Awake! Oh do rush forth. Let me but see 
 You once. Oh fly unto these arms, that should 
 On sight have clasped you. Woe, woe, it falls, 
 There he must be. I could have saved him — 
 Unmaidenly — Oh faugh! I should have dared 
 For Lin-fu anything. I would, I would, indeed, 
 If — if — Then do it now, A-lan. 
 
 {Takes from case on wall a sword.) 
 
 This sword 
 The honor of thy line embodies. Shrink not, 
 'Tis sharp, but dull beside the pain, Lin-fu, 
 You suffered for my faithlessness. Now seek 
 The heart that was afraid to show its love. 
 But love that greater could not be, Lin-fu, Lin-fu. 
 
 (Falls on sword and dies,) 
 
 [14] 
 
NOTES ON CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Peaceful Room 1 
 
 Atlanta, Georgia, October 23-24, 1918. 
 
 Someone 2 
 
 Conceived on a train, Eau Claire, Wisconsin, 
 August 9, 1919; written, Hudson, Wisconsin, August 
 14-15, 1919. 
 
 A Mirror 4 
 
 Conceived, Washington, D. C, years ago; written, 
 Atlanta, Georgia, October 24, 1918. 
 
 To the Arbutus 5 
 
 Conceived, Gainesville, Florida, September 30, 1918; 
 written, Bradentown, Florida, October 3, 1918. 
 The Trailing Arbutus is the emblematic flower of 
 my Alma Mater, Indiana University. 
 
 I Can't Get Married Till the Next Peach Time 6 
 
 Refrain in its first form heard somewhere in Mary- 
 land; remainder written Champaign, Illinois, Aug- 
 ust 3, 1919. 
 
 A Memory Rhyme 8 
 
 Conceived, Washington, D. C, summer 1918; 
 written, Bradentown, Florida, October 5, 1918. 
 
 Voices of the March Wind 9 
 
 Conceived, Maywood, Virginia, March, 1918; 
 written, Bradentown, Florida, October 5, 1918. 
 
 The Hills 10 
 
 Maywood, Virginia, February 29 — March 2, 1920. 
 
 A Road Through Southern Pines 11 
 
 Horn Point Club, Virginia, December 9, 1917. 
 
 The Tryst of A-lan and Lin-Fu 12 
 
 Based on a Chinese tale read years ago; written 
 Atlanta, Georgia, October 24, 1918. 
 [15] 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 llillliiilii 
 
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