..-■■• Efe^ ' • • • « Yes, he'd go! With this new resolution formed, His sluggish blood began to flow More quickly, and his chilled heart warmed To newly kindled fires of hope, While memories, but late aroused, Were given free and ample scope. The place where he was fed and housed Grew hateful more and more each day He lingered there. When he at last, 23 BROWN STUDIES With his belongings stole away, He could but think of that day past When he had left his boyhood's home With something like this same relief, Braving the briny ocean-foam — For what? At last he knew the grief His parents that day must have known, When he — their one beloved child — Left them all lonely and alone. Remorse beset him. He was wild With fierce impatience to be there Amid those scenes once so despised. Those dear ones now would be his care. He ne'er before had realized The cruelty and heartlessness Of his past conduct toward these two; But his atonement now would bless Them both. 'Twas all that he could do. Thus ran his thoughts the voyage through. His own peculiar, sorry fate Had wrought the change in him. He knew And understood now, though 'twas late, Such agonies as might have been Unknown — regrets which might have lain Inert, had death, disgrace, and sin Not caused his heart to feel the pain — 24 BROWN STUDIES So hard to bear — so hard to heal When cherished idols turn to dust! That pain which only parents feel He now felt, knowing 'twas but just. The voyage ended. All enthused With his new mission, he made haste To seek the hamlet which he used To call his home. The barren waste Of land through which his pathway lay, Was still as desolate as when His steps were turned the other way So long ago. Expecting then To see such changes as are wrought Sometimes by time, he reached the place, And found it' the same quiet spot. With eager eyes and quickened pace He walked toward the humble hut Standing apart and wearing still Its coat of once red brilliance, but Now dingy hue. The window-sill On either side boasted a pot Of blooming flowers. His heart now kept Time with his steps. The garden-plot Showed recent care. The ivy crept 25 BROWN STUDIES Around the doorstep just the same As in the past. As he drew nigh The door flew ope — a buxom dame Regarded him with questioning eye. vn Suspicion marked her attitude. What curious stranger now was this Who walked up to her door and stood As if the house and all were his? Her sharp-voiced queries soon awoke The man from his strange lethargy; Then he removed his hat and spoke The necessary inquiry. And this is what the woman said: "Are you their son? Can it be true? Too late! — your parents are both dead. We tried to send the news to you Three times, but always 'twas returned. 'Tis two years since your mother died. Your father pined and grieved and yearned For her six months. Now side by side They lie in yonder burial-place, And you, who left them here alone So many years, had best retrace Your steps, — and let it not be known 26 BROWN STUDIES That you are here, for you must know These fisher-folks think very ill Of you, and would soon tell you so. Avoid their curses and ill-will And go enjoy your friends and pelf! Your parents both died blessing you. I nursed and tended them myself, And did for them what I could do. They left me this," (waving a hand To indicate the small homestead). i€ 'Tis ample payment for me, and You can do nothing for your dead That I have not already done." Then with a sudden, swift remorse Her voice softened: "So you're their son! You don't remember me of course, — I, too, have changed. When a wee wench 'Twas you I worshipped from afar As you sat reading on yon bench. I know you now for what you are, And only pity you. Out there" (Pointing a finger towards the sea) "Is my good man, but I've two fair Sons who've not yet deserted me!" "Forbear, good woman! I cannot Endure much more," he hoarsely cried; Go with me — show me to the spot Where they are lying side by side." a 27 BROWN STUDIES When they had reached the spot he found The graves both green and neatly kept — A modest stone marking each mound. He threw himself face down and wept For shame, for grief, and for despair. Then, as the shades of night drew nigh, He left once more the hamlet, where Was neither welcome nor good-by. And then began the bitt'rest part Of life that he as yet had known. Weary of bod} 7 , sick of heart, Homeless and friendless and alone, He wandered here and wandered there — Careless that funds were growing low; Finding no comfort anywhere. Then he decided he would go Back to his old-time residence, The city where he once did dwell In gilded ease and opulence. His erstwhile friends, he knew full well, Would scarcely rcognize in him The proud, ambitious gentleman Of olden days. His eyes grew dim With tears at first, then he began To nurse an anger deep and dark 'Gainst those who once sat 'round his board- 28 BROWN STUDIES Men of the world who made their mark As high as he yet were not lowered, But worshipped still their gods of gold ; And women, frivolous and vain As they were fair and cruel-eold To all the suffering and pain Of those low in the social scale. Well did he know himself to be Forever now beyond the pale Of what they called " society. " All hypocrites they were at most; But a determination grim Beset him. He would face the host Of old-time friends! — 'twould prove to him If there was one good hypocrite, Just one! to grasp his hand and smile, And lift him from the darksome pit Of his despair. After awhile There came his chance. He reached the place From which he (six months back) had fled. He saw each old friend face to face, And one by one they cut him dead ! Bereft of family and wealth, Owning no roof but heaven's dome, Broken in spirit and in health, He sought a poor man's humble home, 29 BROWN STUDIES And begged a place beneath his roof, For which he paid a paltry sum Per week, and there he lived — sad proof Of what a great man may become! And as the chilly autumn wind Grew more severe he grew more gaunt. And though his humble friends were kind He often felt the sting of want. Mid scenes of poverty forlorn. With naught of princely pomp or pride, One summer morning he was born — One stormy winter night he died. 30 BROWN STUDIES A PAIR OF DREAMS A SONG-TITLE DREAM Once, In the Silent Hours of Night, I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls, Where Bygone Days and youth's delight As shadows were on memory's walls; For ah, methought that I had crossed A golden bridge — The Bridge of Sighs, And Far Away were you, and lost Was love. Then out 'neath starlit skies, Methought, Alone, yet not Alone, All in a Garden Fair I stood; It Seemed that the Pale Moon Sadly Shone In Sympathy with my sad mood. "Oh, Were I but a Moonlight's Ray, I'd back where Love Abides/ ' said I; "If Sighs had Wings how swift away My messengers to love would fly!" And in my dream the hours were long — The Sweetest Story ever Told Was done — and hushed Love's Old Sweet Song; Then, Just across the Bridge of Gold, I, Looking Back, saw you once more, And quickly did my soul rejoice; You stood in Loveland — on its shore — Although So Far Away, your voice 31 BROWN STUDIES Brought to my strained and list'ning ear A message I can ne'er forget; It Came Upon the Midnight Clear, "All's Well! I Live and Love Thee Yet!" My heart then with Repentance fraught, From choosing wrong twixt Love and Pride, Leaped as I Never Would Have Thought. "My Love is Calling me/' I cried, "Why Among the Shadows longer yearn, When love is All the World to Me? Across the Bridge I'll now return." Alas! It Was Not Thus to Be, For, when I sought to cross The Bridge, I found it was no longer there; My eyes then sought the moonlit ridge Where you had stood, and found it bare Save for the stealthy waves that crept Athwart its once untroubled sands. "It is The Last Good-night," I wept Despairingly and wrung my hands; And swift and sudden as I spoke The world grew barren of all gleam Of light. In terror I awoke — So glad to find It Was a Dream. SEQUEL TO A SONG-TITLE DREAM Last night I hearkened Jessie's Dream, And of all Jingles, Jokes, and Rhymes That dreamers give us, it did seem The most unique; but I, at times, 32 BROWN STUDIES Have also had some visions queer, And fain would tell as well if I But had the power. Sweet Jessie, Dear Inspires me with, "Why Don't You Try?' And so I will — Coax Me no more! I'm but a Merry Farmer's Boy, 'Tis true, but till Life's Dream is O'er Dreaming will ever bring me joy. 'Twas Just One Year ago to-day This dream began which I now tell, And you — a Little Girl in Gray — Was drawing water from a well; And I, my heart all pit-a-pat With boyish admiration quelled, Was Teasing for a draught from that Old Oaken Bucket which you held; And Just for Sociability, Then, side by side, we both did quaff The water Ah! so Pure! Then we United in a merry laugh; And your sweet Message of the Eyes Changed me straightway from boy to man, Filling my heart with sweet surprise; 'Twas thus The Lover's Dream began, And since, while wand 'ring here and there, I'm Dreaming of my Darling's Face; Your Lips, Your Eyes, Your Golden Hair In visions follow me apace, 33 BROWN STUDIES Till I have come with heart awhirl, To crave from you another boon — I Want You for My All-time Girl E'er wanes again yon fair June Moon; And Just Because I Love You So, My Dear, and just Because You're You, How much I want you, you will know Some Day — Some Day When Dreams Come True; So whisper softly in my ear And tell me when that day will be ; Smile On Me with Your Eyes so Dear Now, and For all Eternity. • • • • • • • I Hear a Whisper in the Air — 'Tis Love's Reply, and quick does make My dream so much more wondrous fair, I care not ever to awake. 34 BROWN STUDIES CLIPPINGS FROM AN OLD MAID'S DIARY A schoolgirl slender, shy, and "sweet sixteen,' ' With eyes as blue as yon blue skies above, Ringlets of gold in soft and silken sheen, And heart as guileless as a turtle-dove; No thought had she of lovers, or of love Till Tom appeared one day upon the scene, Then, presto ! — now what can the dear child mean As in her diary she writes thereof? "I know now what the tender passion is! I am a queen and I have met my king ! Tom loves me — he is mine and I am his; But what will papa say, I'm wondering — And mamma too? Ah! would they be en- raged To know that Tom and I are now engaged?" n Another careless year behind her lies. Less shy, but fuller-formed and redder-lipped Is she, but still a schoolgirl. Pa was wise — Her "tender passion" in its bud was nipped 36 BROWN STUDIES Remorselessly, and Tom, "her king," has skipped Away, leaving "his queen' ' to tears and sighs; Then Dick comes, and she wipes her tearful eyes And writes thus in her private manuscript : "Dear Dick and I have planned how some fine day We will elope. (Dick's handsome but he's not A dollar, — but what's money, anyway, Compared to love in some dear little cot?) On bread and cheese and kisses we will live, Trusting that some day papa will forgive." in Now one more year is gone, and she is through With schoolbooks. As a "sweet girl graduate" She's had her say (and looked most charming too) ! And then — all eager to investigate The flowery paths of Fashion that await Her footsteps, she, amid a great ado Of social meteors, makes her debut. Then Harry comes. She writes thus of her fate : "Harry does say the sweetest things to me! I adore a man who's good at compliment. He's handsome too. I rather think we'd be A striking couple. If pa will consent, I think when Harry asks me I'll say yes; Then life for us will be all happiness." 36 BROWN STUDIES IV Three more years pass and she is twenty-one, — Tom, Dick, and Harry are things of the past. She thinks she's been a little simpleton, And settles down to good, sound sense at last. Offers of marriage have come thick and fast But prudent grown, she has accepted none; Deeming herself most worthy to be won, 'Tis thus her thoughts on paper now are cast : "I've just decided to give Charlie up. Handsome is he, but poor as a church-mouse. I'll make a brilliant marriage yet, I hope, And be the mistress of some lordly house. My own attractiveness is evident; I can afford to wait and be content.' ' Another year goes by. Her life still teems With social joys and fashionable delights. At twenty-one she meets with one who deems Her as his soul's true mate, and he invites Her now to share with him the hard-earned heights His intellect has won. At times he seems To be the hero of her maiden-dreams; But there is something lacking, so she writes Of her decision in that book of books — Her diary: "I've just refused poor Ned. I know he's wealthy, and I like his looks, And I know, too, he's clever and well-bred; But he is far too prosy and lacks style. I'm sure to meet the right one after 'while." 37 BROWN STUDIES VI The next two years are passed in ceaseless quest Of that " right one," while traits, till now, inert Within her nature spring to life. The zest Of her admirers wanes. She — e'er alert — Perceives the change. Her vanity is hurt. Bound to arouse anew their interest, She trifles with men's hearts and now, as best, Is looked upon as an outrageous flirt! And thus she writes her inmost thoughts once more "I wonder why I'm still unmarried now, And why 'he' never comes! I'm twenty-four! I believe I've been a fool, but, anyhow, My next offer I'll quick as light 'ning flash, Accept, (that is, if he has got the cash) ! ' ' VII At twenty-five her air is not so gay, At twenty-six her cheeks are not so pink. The scarcity of lovers she, each day, Now realizes, and begins to think Cash is not indispensable. The brink Of spinsterhood is now not far away. At twenty-eight she hopes that yet she may Have one more offer, and with pen and ink Writes down her maiden hopes, without a fear: " I mean to wed as soon now as I can. A quiet marriage, then the cosy cheer Of my own home — the love of a good man, And little children playing 'round the fire — This is my fondest dream and my desire." 38 BROWN STUDIES VIII At twenty-nine she finds herself surprised. Another year has glided swiftly by And still her dream remains unrealized. She feels so bad about it she could cry! She never has an offer now, and why? With all her manly friends she's sympathized, And danced, and chatted, and sometimes advised,- But vainly. Then she thinks, "No use to try!" And thus at thirty, in her diary She writes: "I'm so unhappy — I'm afraid I'll never find the right one now. Dear me, I'll die if anyone calls me 'old maid!' " Then in her great despair and restlessness, She spends more time and care upon her dress. IX At thirty-two she gives up dancing, "For (She writes) "at all the balls that I attend, The men are such poor partners. I abhor Bad dancing, and I hate to snub a friend. I've pondered o'er it, and now, at the end, Am sure I'll either have to snub them, or Not go. I'll choose the latter method nor Will I regret it." Then things of this trend She also writes at age of thirty-three: "I wonder why a man is such a fool! He'll leave at all times the society Of women sensible, and as a rule Prefers a corner, where for hours he'll sit And flirt with some impertinent young chit." 39 BROWN STUDIES At thirty-four she hears some startling news: Her lifelong friend (her own age) is to be Soon wedded to a wealthy bachelor whose Regard she once did crave (but secretly). The bosom friend is interviewed and she Declares she wouldn't be in that friend's shoes For worlds! A wordy quarrel then ensues In which they both agree to disagree; Then, in the sacred precincts of her room She writes once more the secrets of her soul, And pities all her women-friends for whom Marriage, it seems, is the life-given role: "They're mostly married now while I'm still free, But wait awhile, we'll see what we will see." XI And she does find much comfort in the woes And sad misfortunes that come now and then To married people, although some of those Are her best friends. She's rated all the men, And pitied women o'er and o'er again Till with good reason one might now suppose, As time goes on, her friends would turn to foes; Not so! They all forgive her, and lo! when She's reached the good ripe age of thirty-six, Her private writings tell how she decides To mind her own affairs and no more mix 40 BROWN STUDIES In other people's! Hence, she now abides In peace — a fine old maid with not A care on earth, and contented with her lot. xn (WHAT SHE WILL PBOBABLY WRITE TEN YEAB8 HENCE) "By my own fireside with my dog and cat, (Not burdened either with false friends or pelf) I sit as I so many times have sat Thinking of Life and Fate (the fickle elf) ! With cheer in plenty on my pantry shelf And welcome always gracing my doormat For those who seek me, (and thank God for that) ! I smile contentedly and ask myself: " 'What have I ever yet found to regret Along the path of life's appointed role?' And my reply is, 'Not one thing!' and yet I know deep down within my inmost soul I'd not so dread the shady side of life, Were I but someone's mother — someone's wife!" 41 BROWN STUDIES MISCELLANEOUS VERSES JUNE TIME A warm, sweet night in June; A paling, waning moon, Low in the sky; A farmhouse portico Where climbing roses grow; And you and I By differences beset, Are unrelenting met To say good-by. Rich scent of fruit and flowers From trees and garden bowers; Soft winds that sway The rustling eglantine; Two voices (yours and mine) Eager to say Our doom — in fierce unrest — Agreeing that 'tis best To part for aye! A meeting of cold lips; A touch of finger tips; (A heart like stone) ! A tear upon your cheek 42 BROWN STUDIES My sorrow to bespeak And you are gone! Will you return? . . . Too late! In vain I watch and wait — I am alone. foolish, stubborn youth That chooses to leave truth Thus all unspoke! Oh, strong and cruel will That can so trifle till Two hearts are broke! Dear, I was in the wrong — 1 know it now, and long To tell you so. Your love was pure and true — I'm sorrowing but you Will never know. To Only a memory — Lines dim with age, you see, But ah, so true! Yon shines the same pale moon, And many a fragrant June (Since our adieu) Has come and gone, and yet Never will I forget That night and you. 43 BROWN STUDIES THE SCHOOLMA'AM'S VACATION From the busy life of a worker to the idleness of a guest ; From cares that fret to joys new-met; From drudgery to rest; From duties that bind and vex the mind. To the blue, blue sky and the summer wind; From dingy walls to boughs that bless My laziness! From the narrow aisles of the school-room to the meadowland stretching wide; From endless books to grassy nooks; From desk to river-side; From voices that ring with questioning To the ripening fields where the glad larks sing; From dull dry facts to dreams that throng With love and song! From a teacher weary of teaching to a student by Nature taught; From pens and ink to bowers pink with roses fragrance- fraught ; From days that can mean but dull routine To cool garden-walls where the lilies lean; From all things else to thy sweet charm — Valley Farm! 44 BROWN STUDIES OCTOBER Once more she is here, the fair rival of June, And her coming is wondrous as ever, For her footsteps are timed to a glorious tune — The tune that we tire of never; A song of the cheer she, ev'ry year, Has never yet failed to bring with her, And the old-time charm for town or farm As she gaily comes tripping hither. Russet and yellow and scarlet leaves; Vines where the clustering wild grapes cling; Harvests of apples and golden sheaves; Fragrance as sweet as the breath of spring. Was ever a summer so charming as this Sweet time of autumnal surprises'? How warm blow the breezes, yet soft as a kiss! Such sunsets and such sunrises! Through meadows, by burns, in fields of ferns, We wander in moods more sober, And mid the gleam of gold we dream The dreams that belong to October. Never had summer such gorgeous dress — Never such brilliance at morn or noon; Therefore October in loveliness Certainly outvies her rival June. 45 BROWN STUDIES THE MORNING SONG There's a dear little bird in the old cherry tree Just outside my window, that sings to me In the quiet hours of the early morn A song that is full of a hope newborn. I have hearkened the notes so wild and free, Till my heart is attuned to its minstrelsy, And all summer long, 'twas the same sweet song Of cheer and good comradery. Oh, it sang of the fruit hanging red on the trees, The ripening grain and the grassy leas, The fragrant blossoms with dew impearled, The children who come to brighten the world, The wonderful mountains, the healthful breeze, The beauty and grandeur of mighty seas; Such, so it seems, were the chosen themes Of these birdsong melodies. But in summer that tree was a green, green tower — A beautiful shelter from sun or shower For the resting-place of that tiny bird Whose song is the sweetest I've ever heard. Now the green has vanished with ev'ry flower, And the tree is changed to a red and gold bower, Where the bird still sings, and each morn still brings New joy to my waking hour. Oh, dear little bird in your bower so gay, You have made October as sweet as May; 46 BROWN STUDIES But the leaves of your bower will soon turn brown, Then the winds of November will bring them down, And the morning will dawn, all bleak and gray, When 111 waken to find you have flown away; But 'twill bring no pain, for the song will remain In my heart forever and aye. MAY 8, 1910 Acrostic My soul to-day knows naught but memories — Environments of youth — clear sparkling streams, Meadows, and lanes, and field-paths, bright with gleams Of glorious summer sunshine; vines and trees Rustling their low responses to the breeze; In wreathing blossoms; songs of birds; it seems Each moment brings to me, in golden dreams, Sweet scenes, sweet scents, and sweet sounds such as these. Melt not away, dear dreams! I see the face Of that dear one whom I've not seen for long — The face of her whose love blessed the home-place. Hark, now I hear her voice! — an old-time song — Each note a benison to cheer my way — Restful and sweet and fitting to the day. 47 BROWN STUDIES A PROLOGUE Time never did begin and never ends; It is — and e'er has been and e'er will be An omnipresent vast eternity, Wherein each moment (though unheeded) lends Something to life that either mars or mends; Each day, gliding away so silently And swiftly, is an anniversary For gladness or regrets. And so, my friends, Let us now pause at this auspicious hour Wherein so many pasts and futures meet, And while the bells ring out so loud and clear, Resolve to overthrow with all our power The ghosts of past mistakes, and gladly greet The opportunities of this New Year. January 1, 1911. ACROSTIC How thrills the heart of him who, after years Of wandering, decides no more to roam! Music of voices long unheard now fills his ears, Echos of vanished joys, y«t tokens of sweet home ! 48 BROWN STUDIES DIVIDING LINES A shy sweet time of mingled rhyme, A low, soft interlude; A tender tune 'twixt morn and noon, When Childhood and Womanhood Meet on the banks of Time's swift stream, Pause, hesitate as in a dream, Gazing in thoughtful mood; One must away and one may stay — There's naught to interclude. Lo, as they stand in wonder and In doubt, from yonder wood Love doth appear, and drawing near, Sweet Love now doth interclude. Time beckons, ever flowing on; Behold! Childhood is vanished — gone! Love, be it understood, Hath gained the day to hold full sway With beauteous Womanhood. ACROSTIC Bread to the hungry lips; wine to the weak; Oasis to the weary eye that looks On desert wastes for long; boon to lone souls who seek Kindly companionship — sweet sympathy to bespeak; So is to me the blessed eomradery of books. 49 BROWN STUDIES THE DISTRICT SCHOOL I've a pleasant recollection Of a quiet farming section In a certain valley that I used to know, Where with slow but sure gradation I began my education In the land of Far-away and Long-ago. And the place where I was entered As a student was well centered, Standing on a strip of pasture flat and low, Where the country lads and lasses Romped around among the grasses, And the grazing cattle wandered to and fro. Oh, how well do I remember How each year, I, from September, With my dinner-pail trudged miles in rain or snow Until June roses were blooming; But let no one be presuming There was e'er a time I didn't want to go. Pumpkin College (I'll be candid) Was the name the school was handed At the time 'twas built, and neither friend nor foe E'er expressed a wish to change it, Although someone did arrange it Into plain P. C. — for brevity, I trow. 50 BROWN STUDIES And we had all sorts of teachers — Smart young men and fair girl-creatures, And for sake of change, a cross old maid or so; But they each one did their duty — And we learned! That was the beauty Of the good old-fashioned schools of long ago ! Those were days of "yes, ma'am," "no, ma'am," "Please may I speak?" and "May I go, ma'am?" And when classes to recite stood in a row. Then if rules should go unheeded And a punishment be needed, That was what the teacher hastened to bestow. "Jogfry," history, and grammar Patiently they all did hammer, The way we learned the three R's was not slow — Oh, we stored up useful knowledge By the peck at Pumpkin College In the land of Far-away and Long-ago. 51 BROWN STUDIES THE TRUE INTERPRETER Who is the one of the dwellers on earth That in seasons of sadness or of mirth, In palace or hovel, from short to shore, 'Mongst beautiful faces the wide world o'er, Finds graces more lovely and charms more rare In the face of a child unspoiled by care ? Oh, 'tis he who has toiled with a parent's pride Or she who has prayed by the cradle-side. Who understands it, the heart of that child, So innocent, pure, and undefiled? 'Tis he who has hearkened the laughter gay Of his own happy little ones at play — Or she who has sat in the twilight deep Rocking and crooning her babes to sleep. Oh, the heart of a child, with its joys and woes, Only a father or mother knows. 52 BROWN STUDIES THE THREE GRACES Acrostic Fresh, sweet, and cool the west winds come and go And wander here and there and to and fro. I see them not, and yet I know they blow ! Thus in life's purpose would appear no wraith Had we but this same certitude of faith. How fair the rays of winter sun now fall Over the rain-wet grasses of yon slope ! Peerlessly bright so comes to my sad soul Ever the golden glimmerings of hope. Charity — covering for a host of sins! — How good to meet with it amongst the ins And outs of life where oft lurks calumny! Rare is that one of us who would not say It was, will be, and is — to cheer our way — The grace most needed by humanity, Yesterday and to-morrow and to-day. 53 BROWN STUDIES TOWN AND COUNTRY DREAMS By two firesides brightly gleaming Sit two women, each one dreaming Of the days of long ago too quickly spent; And each deems the past more pleasant Than the busy, dizzy present, And their hearts are filled with bitter discontent. One's a dweller in the city, And her home is small but pretty — Just a grassy plot and cosy bungalow; But she don't want such near neighbors. And no matter how she labors 'Tis not like the dear old home she used to know. For she was a farmer's daughter Till a city lad besought her To become his ever true and loving wife, Which she did with zest and laughter, And was sorry ever after, For she found she did not like a city life. Now the children that came to her, It would seem, might help to woo her Into paths of sweet contentment; but not so! 'Tis for sake of their sweet childhood She longs for the country wildwood And a home like that old home she used to know. But her husband works for wages, And it seems to her as ages 54 BROWN STUDIES Since the time when they could e'er afford a day Just to spend in pure enjoyment. Then the times of "no employment' ' Also help to make her thoughts moody and gray. • ••••• In the country dwells the other; She too is a wife and mother, And her husband is "the man behind the hoe." Their farmhouse is wide and roomy, But she thinks it very gloomy, For 'tis not the dear old home she used to know. She was once a city maiden, And her pathways had been laden With the pleasures that belong to city life; But a country laddie wooed her, And henceforth "misunderstood" her, For she did not want to be a farmer's wife! 'Tis to her a tribulation That her children's education Must be trusted to a country school, and oh, As she rests now from her labors How she longs for "next door neighbors" And a home like that old home she used to know. She could stand the work, if only She were not so very lonely; And it seems her husband cannot spare a day Just to spend in pure enjoyment. 'Tis continuous employment That has helped to make her thoughts moody and gray. 55 BROWN STUDIES So by these two firesides gleaming These two women still sit dreaming, Till the bright noonday of life is quickly spent ; And their homes that might be pleasant Are the scenes of ever-present Bickerings, disputes, and ditter discontent. Why, dear hearts, such useless fretting For those things you can't be getting? Seize the jo}^ that daily in your pathway lies, And you'll instantly discover Home is home the wide world over And 'tis up to you to make it paradise. THE HOME CITY Acrostic Yonder thy namesake's crest towers gleaming, 0, thou City Beautiful! Under the golden sunshine streaming, Lucidly calm, thy sea lies dreaming, Lazily kissed by the breezes cool. Lawn and park and garden vying In a blossomy perfume; Knoll and nook and terrace lying — Evidence of brilliant bloom. Thou hast been home, and thou shalt still be, And thou art called, and ever will be, City of Destiny. Oh, how with pride thy beauties fill me! My homesick heartstrings, how they'd thrill me Afar were I from thee! 56 BROWN STUDIES AFTER DINNER DREAMS 'Tis the hour just after dining. In two easy chairs reclining, Each with feet perched on the table of his den, Lost in pipe-dream variations And cigar smoke cogitations, At the good ripe age of forty, sit two men. One's a husband and a father Cumbered with the cost and bother Of a business, and a house, and children three, And a wife with tastes expensive; So he ponders, quite defensive, And at times he almost wishes he were free. If he only had stayed single! He can almost hear the jingle Of the coin he'd have in plenty ev'ry day! And life might be just as cheerful — Anyway, 'tis simply fearful, Just to think of all the bills he has to pay. Telephone, gas, light, and water, Singing lessons for his daughter; Groceries and meat and laundry bills galore! Then the milkman and the baker, And the tailor and dressmaker — Oh, it fairly makes him blue to count them o'er! Big assessments, too, and taxes. While the earth turns on its axis 57 BROWN STUDIES Such as he must hustle just the best he can; Then his thoughts begin to wander And he, calmer grown and fonder, Knows he'd not exchange his place with any man. Wifie (bless the little woman) Makes mistakes (to err is human) ; But she's just the sweetest wife a man could get; And Marie, Jack, and the baby — They're a bit expensive, maybe, But he's glad he's got the darlings, yes, you bet! • • • • • • • And how goes it with the other? He lives with his "dear, old mother" Having firmly vowed "no wedding bells for him!" So now as he smokes and ponders Over this and that, he wonders Why his life of late seems barren of all vim. Nothing's quite as he expected After all. He's quite dejected — Mother's growing old, he'll soon be left alone; And the thought is most distressful. His career has been successful In a business way, but what's the use of own- ing so much cash with none to spend it? Life's so dull he fain would end it! There were lots of girls he could have had, you bet! But he waited long in choosing. Then at last he falls to musing O'er the girls he would have had, but couldn't get. Would he really be more happy As a husband and a pappy? 58 BROWN STUDIES Is the question that he asks himself, and he,- After all the years he's tarried — Almost wishes he were married And the father of a little family. Then he spies the evening papers And reads all the sporting capers, Notices of births and deaths and newly wed, Lenghty woman's rights discourses, And a long list of divorces; Then he smiles contentedly and goes to bed. AFTER RAIN What is so rare as a day after a fall-rain in Washington! And June roses are still blooming.— Tacorna Daily Ledger, September 20, 1910. Throughout the world to seek would be in vain 'Mongst Nature's beauties, for there's naught so rare As this — a day spent in the open air, Where, all night long, the passive earth has lain Cooled and refreshed by heavy autumn rain; Made sweet, as if in June, by roses fair And rich with ripened fruits, from ev'rywhere Sending forth spicy fragrances. I fain Would linger long in pathways such as these And deem the halcyon hours as time well spent; Courting the fond caress of wind and sun, The sympathy of flowers and grass and trees, Blest with the fresh new hope, the calm content Of an autumn day in western Washington. 59 BROWN STUDIES A DAY'S RECKONING What is woman's life When Destiny's keen-edged knife, Cleaving chaotic night away, Reveals a tremulous Break o' Day, And golden grows the sky? Kisses, slumber, calm content, Small eyes that gaze in wonderment; Fond mother-prayers to heaven sent, And low lullabies, breathed tenderly; Thus is Innocence, Truth, and Purity With Faith eternal blent, While the angels watch on high, And golden grows the sky. What is woman's life When Youth's dewy joys are rife — When the brow of Morning, just begun, Is warmly kissed by the rising sun, And rosy is the sky? Music, mirth, and laughter gay; A little work, a deal of play, And dreaming of idle hours away; While yon broad vista stretches bright, Viewed ever thus, in the rosy light Of Hope's eternal ray. Oh, the shining moments fly When rosy is the sky! 60 BROWN STUDIES What is woman's life As maiden and as wife, When Morn has changed to burning Noon, And passion's storm-clouds dim too soon The azure of the sky? Draughts of pleasure, rich and rare, Mutt 'rings of doubt and clouds of care, Fears, blasted hopes, storms of despair — Then lo! a haven of welcome rest, With balm for weary hearts depressed, And Love eternal there, While the years glide swiftly by, And azure is the sky. What is woman's life When ends the day's long strife And she, serene in the fading light, Awaits the swift on-coming night While dull-gray is the sky? Lurking shadows, dense and deep, All silently around her creep, While mem'ries long, long vigils keep; Then, when the last good-night is said, How welcome is the narrow bed, Eternal Peace, and Sleep! 'Tis beautiful thus to die, When dull-gray is the sky. 61 DEC 18 1311 One copy del. to Cat. Div. mm •EC « !«l m