Ciass /P^ ^OY Book l_a5t GopigM . coHRiGwr BEPOsn; SONGS OF MANY MOODS BY ROBERT T. DUNCAN BOSTON RICHARD G. BADGER . THE GORHAM PRESS Copyright, 1919, by Robert T. Duncan All Rights Reserved ^:^ -\^ •- MADE IN THE UNITED STATES OP AMERICA TBJI GORHJLM PlUBSS, BOSTON, U. S. A. \\ \%Yi )CI.A5258l3 INTRODUCTORY February 2, 19 19 My dear Mr. Duncan: — "Poetry is the music of thought, conveyed to us in the music of language" — Chatfield. "Poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds" — Shelley. In returning to you the manuscript of some of the productions of your facile pen which you were kind enough to allow me to peruse, I first want to assure you of my deep gratitude for the pleasure that has come to me through your kindly action, but I cannot allow myself to stop at that. The vision comes before me of a war worn world where men's hearts have become hardened by the prejudice and rancor that must necessarily result from the conditions of the past few years, and what is the remedy that will prove to be a healing balm? To my mind the only cure is the literature of music and song. I beg of you, nay I implore that you allow the verses which I have selfishly reveled in to become published and thereby serve their true, God given, purpose in the world. "If music be the food of love, play on." Again thanking you, and believe me Faithfully yours, ROBT. P. FAIRBAIRN. CONTENTS Page Christmas Bells 9 They Are Coming IO When the Battle Flags Are Furled 1 1 "Tin Soldiers" 12 In Memoriam 13 "Old Glory" 14 The Dying Soldier 15 Do You Remember Still 16 The Faith of France 17 Across the Sea 18 It's All the Same 19 In Memoriam 21 Sleep, Baby, Sleep 22 Land of Lakes 23 Judge Not 24 Parting 25 Imagery 26 The Man 27 To Edgar A. Guest 28 Craibstone 29 To J. S. D 30 The Homeland 31 The Song of the Hobo 32 Bucksburn 33 The Recluse of Fond du Lac 34 The Gypsy Blood 36 Just Eighteen Months Ago 37 The Call of Nature 39 Church Bells 40 Life's Melody 41 Contents Page They Endure 42 I Envy None 43 Coming and Going of Day 44 The Shadows 45 Spring 46 The Robin 47 The Little Voices 48 A Royal Romance 49 The Loveland 5° Anniversary of Burns 5° Life 52 Poland 53 The Creed 54 La Follette 55 To "The Ettrick Lintie" 57 Robert Burns 58 The Soutar 59 The Cross 60 An Evening Walk 61 The Evening Star 62 Signs of Spring 63 April 64 SONGS OF MANY MOODS CHRISTMAS BELLS 1916 Ring out, ye bells with merry chimes, As ye have done in former years, Though never in the olden times To lands so drenched in blood and tears. Ring gently, bells, for sorrow's tear The mourners' hollow eyes will fill, As bending o'er the soldier's bier They whisper low, "Peace and good will". "Peace and good will"! O! world at strife, And was it futile and in vain That One should give His noble life To save Mankind from such a pain. Ring bravely on. The world's brow Is furious with lust to kill, And more than ever utter now Heaven's great command of "Peace, be still". Ring on. The times are waxing late And in a world of woe and pain The nations leap in frenzied hate To crucify their Christ again. Songs of Many Moods THEY ARE COMING They are coming, Woodrow Wilson, From Columbia's farthest shore, To defend their country's honor As their fathers did before. For they placed their trust upon you, "Peace with honor" was your cry; Now you, say "Peace means dishonor", And they know you do not lie. There are those who would defame you, Vultures in the eagle's nest ; Plotting Columbia's destruction While they fatten at her breast. But the straight-lipped and the clear-eyed Grasp the gun and draw the blade ; Not in vain for such as these Was the Declaration made. Freedom's heritage they cherish From the cradle to the grave, And they vow the starry banner Over them for aye shall wave. So they answer, Woodrow Wilson, And their shout becomes a roar Ringing from the far Pacific To the broad Atlantic's shore. 10 Songs of Many Moods WHEN THE BATTLE FLAGS ARE FURLED When the war-drums are silent, and the battle- flags are furled; Will there dawn a greater glory o'er the nations of the world; Will wrong give place to right and evil be subdued, And will the years that follow be pregnant with good? We know the nations hearkened, and they an- swered from afar When the war-drums started beating and their kings rode out to war And we know they died like heroes amid scenes of bloody woe, And they never stayed to reason why their blood should flow. But tell us, has their sacrifice been offered up in vain? Have they lost all they had to lose when there was nought to gain? We know they fought for honor's cause, and love of country too, And when their time had come they died as brave men do. We know 'twas for their high ideals they let their blood be shed, i We know all this and honor them the army of the dead; II Songs of Many Moods But tell us, prophet, tell us, will there be a better world When the war-drums are silent, and the battle- flags are furled. "TIN SOLDIERS" "Tin Soldiers" you used to call them, As they marched with the sweat on their brow ; And you stood at ease on the sidewalk, But what do you call them now? You mocked and jibed at them daily As they marched along with their band ; Do you mock as they march just as gaily On their way to "No Man's Land?" Do you think of the names you called them? Do you think of the men they are? As you stand on the corner and watch them Swing on their way to war. Leaving sweethearts and mothers, And all that they love behind, Yes, and a million others For the common cause of mankind. They are marching away and I wonder When they're back from the war's red woe, Will you call them again "Tin Soldiers" As you did some months ago. 12 Songs of Many Moods IN MEMORIAM J. S. D. Killed in action. October 21st, 191 6 Fond Mem'ry whispers to my ears The songs you used to sing; And from the distant, bygone years Sweet recollections spring. We were comrades, more than brothers, And from Mem'ry 's page I turn Sad at heart, though there are others With a dearer tie to mourn. Years we shared I well remember But I cannot realize That the last, eternal slumber Has forever closed your eyes. Christmas bells may soon resound The peace and good-will unto men; But dear comrade, you have found The peace that passeth human ken. Soldier! You have done your duty, None can ever sneer and say That the smiles of wealth or beauty Lured you from its path to stray. 13 Songs of Many Moods "OLD GLORY" Waft it proudly, O ye breezes! Until it's f oemen hide their eyes ; Until Sahara's desert freezes; Until the hope of Heaven dies. So caress it, love it, nurse it, It is free as ye are free, Only serfs and tyrants curse it, Ensign of our liberty. O ye breezes, never fail it, Keep it flying, aye unfurled; In the east the nations hail it As the "glory" of the world. And we look upon its splendor From beneath its ample folds, And our hearts are thrilled and tender By the story that it holds. Hail! "Old Glory" we salute thee, Children gathered from all lands ; Motives base shall none impute thee, Lo! The world understands. 14 Songs of Many Moods THE DYING SOLDIER Comrade, raise my head still higher For my hour is almost done, And I want to see "Old Glory" Waving in the morning sun. There! that's better, I can see it, Flaming stripes and virgin bars ; Lincoln's flag and mine, I love it, Heaven's azure, Freedom's stars. I have seen it floating proudly Over the old town at home; I have seen its colors blending With the ocean's wave and foam. Oh, I loved it and revered it In the peaceful days of yore, Now today I love it better Than I ever did before. For I've offered at its altars All the fleeting life I've led, To maintain its spotless whiteness, And the glory of its red. Comrade, see it waving grandly As the morning breezes blow; Rising heavenward, pointing westward, Pointing homeward — and I go. 15 Songs of Many Moods DO YOU REMEMBER STILL Do you remember still, the swift-winged hours That made for us the distant, happy past; The silent woods, the drooping flowers That raised their faces as we passed? The setting sun that tinged the hill-bound west With coloring of amethyst and gold, The valley lying wrapt in peaceful rest, The curlew crying o'er the lonely wold. The peat-reek rising in the still, night air, The murmuring of the little mountain stream, The stars that shone above like jewels rare, The crescent moon with its pale, silv'ry beam. The breeze that hailed us with a passing sigh, The nights that wrapt us in their dreamy spell, We saw the hours go swift and swifter by, And let them vanish with a light farewell. Do you remember still, and oft recall The bygone days that were too sweet to last? And do you often dream about it all While Memory rebuilds the ruined past. 16 Songs of Many Moods THE FAITH OF FRANCE How brightly they raise their heads And bloom beneath the sun, And ere their fragile beauty fades Their little task is done, The flowers of France. How sweetly do they sing their song And fear no earthly thing, They do their share to right a wrong, God sent them there to sing, The birds of France, They march to war and sing, and sing, The songs of Liberty, And dying, still the echoes ring Afar across the sea; The sons of France. Can Freedom die? And is it vain The sacrifice of countless lives? Shall Mankind bear a slavish chain? Nay! While upon the earth survives The faith of France. 17 Songs of Many Moods ACROSS THE SEA 'Tis strange, these silver stars that gleam Upon the peaceful sea; Like gems set in a crown of dream, Look down on Picardy. The moon that watches while you sleep In calm security, Its nightly watch doth also keep O'er graves of Picardy. And Lo! the East wind's fragrant breath That wakes the slumbering sea, Has whispered o'er the fields of death On distant Picardy. 18 Songs of Many Moods IT'S ALL THE SAME The silent stars that shine so bright Above our social mirth tonight, Tomorrow may look down upon A cold, gray monumental stone, Where writ in gilt upon the same The passerby may read our name; We sojourn here a fleeting space While others wait to take our place; Life's like an automatic chime Struck by the swinging bell of time, And we may make it grave or gay; So let us laugh throughout the day, Not sigh its passing hours away; The grave will swallow up our tears, Our laughter lives a thousand years. A smile greets success, not a wail, So why not laugh even when we fail? Failure's the rugged path we tread To reach the heights far overhead ; 'Tis vain to speak of luck or fate, That's but what we ourselves create, There is no fate, there is no luck, So let us mobilize our pluck And roll our sleeves up with a smile To make even failure worth the while. We've each our place beneath the sun And when our working day is done We'll hit the last, long, lonely pike Where all of us must fare alike; 19 Songs of Many Moods It matters little what we are Whether we ride in cushioned car Or on the dusty road we fare In shoes that sadly lack repair; For to us all alike are free — The sunshine and the flowering tree, The glory of the stars' pale beam, . The music of the rippling stream, All things that make the world gay And cheer the traveller on his way; There's joy here if we'll but take it, And life is simply what we make it, So let's cut out the whine and sob — The "Big Boss" needs us on the job. 20 Songs of Many Moods IN MEMORIAM "Sonny" No more we'll hear the little feet Go pattering across the floor; The treble voice, the laughter sweet We'll hear no more. The skies of Spring will seem more gray, The wind will have a sadder tone, The birds will seem to sing less gay Since he is gone. Our little circle now will know An empty place whene'er we meet, And pause at times with voices low To listen for his eager feet. Time heals all wounds, but none can fill The place he held in every heart, And well we know we'll miss him still Whate'er the coming years impart. A mother's heart will throb in pain, Her eyes with yearning thoughts will dim; A father's mind will see again The future he had planned for him. He was so young, so quick to charm, It did not seem that he could die. We see again the cold, still form, And wonder— WHY. 21 Songs of Many Moods SLEEP, BABY, SLEEP Sleepy eyes are closing, baby is reposing Safe in the ship that's bound for Wonderland; Loving eyes look down as every baby frown Is chased away from baby brows by an angel hand. The fairies come with dreams, And the Guardian Angel keeps A vigil o'er the little cot Where baby sleeps. Sleep, baby, sleep, while the shadows creep Around the little cot where you lie; Sleep, baby, sleep, the stars begin to peep Like the lights of Heaven in the sky. The fairy ship sets sail Adown the Milky Way; O! What wonderful sights you'll see Before the break of day. 22 Songs of Many Moods LAND OF LAKES Wisconsin, Land of crystal lakes Where Youth's gay laughter ever wakes The echoes as the paddle breaks The silver sheen; How generous 'mongst your many lakes Has Nature been. Far from the ceaseless care of life, Far from the town's harassing strife Where factory fumes and germs are rife We hie away, Perhaps with sweetheart or with wife To spend a day. To spend a day amid your scenes Where Nature in her beauty preens, And where the old log cabin leans A little west; There our poor, weary soul gleans Content and rest. The lake's a welcome, glorious sight, Though viewed in the sunshine bright Or as beneath the moon at night We float along, Raising our voices free and light In merry song. 23 Songs of Many Moods L'envoi We've had our days of laughter And we've had our nights of song, And we've had our hours of sorrow and of pain; And though we drift afar, Wisconsin, Yet we shall not linger long, For your smiling lakes will lure us back again. JUDGE NOT Judge not, lest in judging a brother, Ye fill a measure of pain, Which from the hand of another May be meted to you again. Judge not in your folly and blindness Judge not in a self-righteous way, Lest a judgment lacking in kindness May haunt you night and day. Judge not, but temper your sentence With mercy, be patient long, Remembering a moment's repentance For a life of sin may atone. 34 Songs of Many Moods PARTING. Bring your lips a little nearer They invite a parting kiss; There can be no joy dearer On this earth than this. Lo! the moon looks on our parting With the smile of bygone years; Like the smile of maiden starting Through the dimness of her tears, He has looked on love and laughter From the world's creation on; And he'll smile on them long after We are dead and gone. The wedding bells out yonder ring, The love-birds at the lattice sing, But what avail they to avert The days that desolation bring. The hour of life is never long, The cry of woe breaks short the song; The darkness of approaching night Will hide the Right and Wrong. The violets fade, the roses bloom, And Autumn gives the Winter room; And Wealth and Poverty alike Must one day share a narrow tomb. 25 Songs of Many Moods But why should we philosophize, The night is young and in your eyes I see reflected back to mine The tender light that never dies. IMAGERY They have built their images through the ages of wood and of stone; they have studded them with precious gems and decorated them with rare metals; they have bowed down and worshipped the work of their own hands. They have dreamed their dreams, and their dreams became imagery which they worshipped. Down through the ages they have dreamt and built and only the memory remains. The hearts of men dream new dreams and build new images after their own fashion; so they build; so they worship; and the Spoiler laughs at their toil. 26 Songs of Many Moods THE MAN Here is a man whose hand is worth the clasping In friendship's firm grip; Whose heart is free from all rapacious grasping; Who scorns base Falsehood's lying lip. Whose hand is ever ready with its aid For sister or for brother who may fall, Nor with his tongue can readily upbraid, But ever generous is he unto all. His eyes are mild as those of ancient sage, Well versed in all the various ways of men; But woe to him who wakes his honest rage He beards the lion in his native den. This man I'd have before all for my friend, Chosen from out a noble, faithful few ; Him would I trust unto life's utter end, Clean-souled and ever true. 27 Songs of Many Moods To EDGAR A. GUEST When the days were growing dreary And our hearts were turning weary Eddie Guest; Who stepped smiling, singing in, Urged us once more to begin, Helped half -beaten men to win? Eddie Guest. When the days were cursed with sameness, And black thoughts came that are nameless, Eddie Guest And our souls grew heavy-burdened, it was then You would charm us with the magic of your pen You're the poet of working men Eddie Guest. You have borne with us our sorrows Seen the dawn of bright tomorrows, Eddie Guest. You have felt the grief that sears; Shared with us our joys and fears; Travelled with us down the years, O! the head that wears a crown May in terror lay it down, But the laurel crown you wear Will not fill your heart with care, For our love has placed it there 28 Eddie Guest. Eddie Guest, Eddie Guest. Songs of Many Moods CRAIBSTONE Age-worn Craibstone! here I roam Amongst thy dim-lit aisles of green, Where Nature in her wildest garb Reigns o'er each sylvan scene. I stand where Man's despoiling hand Has now become unknown; And all the brightest gems of flowers In beauty wild have grown. 'Tis here the thrush sings undisturbed Amongst the lilac trees; And here the tiger lilies tall Sway gently in the breeze. The lofty halls, O Craibstone Where moved the merry train, Are silent and deserted now And nigh unknown to men. The shady walks that knew so well The tread of lovers gay, Are choked with weeds and fallen leaves That moulder and decay. 29 Songs of Many Moods TO J. S. D. On dark Bennachie the hunter still findeth His chase is rewarded with buck or with roe; And like silver beneath it the Gadie still windeth Through valleys and woods where tall foxgloves grow, And the sun's last beam lingers, reluctant to go. And I wonder Jim, as the light grows dim, While you sit in the firelight's glow, Do your thoughts go back o'er each beaten track Where we wandered long ago. How often on Bennachie's height did we wander, How often we played in the valley below, And Jim, will we ever find scenes that are grander Than those of the past that we used to know, I doubt it, old friend, wherever we go. Then here's to thee, and to far Bennachie, And here's to the days of the past; 'Tis pleasant to dream of woodland and stream, And the days that sped too fast. 30 Songs of Many Moods THE HOMELAND I am sitting tonight idly dreaming In the night so soft and sweet; While the stars above me are gleaming, And crickets chirp at my feet; I can see the fireflies winging Like lamps round the pile of logs, While the breeze from the marsh is bringing The itinerant song of bull-frogs. But I'm blind to the beauties around me, The softness, the silence, the stars, For the spell of my dream has bound me In the land of heather-clad scaurs. And I'm back to the scenes where I wandered So careless and happy and free; By streams that leisurely meandered Through valleys and woods to the sea. Back again to the old scenes I go And in fancy once more gaze upon The familiar places I know By the beautiful valley of Don. But once more the present will hide thee, Oh, dear days that used to be, And 'mongst the hemlocks beside me The woodpecker taps on his tree. Ah, Scotia! thy youngest sons wander, In far distant parts of the earth; But they never find scenes that are grander Than those in the land of their birth. 31 Songs of Many Moods THE SONG OF THE HOBO I'm sick of it, boys, with its din and noise, It aint just the place for me; The city's all right for a single night If you make it a downright spree. But to make it home when one's free to roam By river, and forest, and lake; Let him do it who can, but it ain't for the man Who lives for living's sake. The town is for him whose eyes will grow dim O'er the ledger's crowded lines; He can never dream of the spell of a stream, Or the campfire 'neath the pines. Yes! the prairie is the place for me With its trackless miles and miles; Where I'll draw my breath without fear of death From the crazy automobiles. Then farewell the lights and welcome the nights With their vastness and silence and stars; And my heart will not yearn for the money they earn, Who work behind city bars. 32 Songs of Many Moods BUCKSBURN Dear unto me each thought of thee, O village far away; Where near thee rise piled to the skies Thy granite quarries gray. Oft when the evening shadows fall, And from my work once more I turn, Some scene around me will recall The Memory of thee, Bucksburn. The wooden glen, or Persley Den Near to the winding Don, Will still be dear as year by year Time passeth swiftly on; And ever round about me here The colors gay that now adorn The woods and valleys lying near, Remind me of your scenes Bucksburn. O! murmuring stream, when will the gleam Upon thy breast at evening's close, Attract my eye as o'er the sky The sun's last, mellow radiance glows. You knew my youthful dreams and hope, And oft in memory I'll return To wander o'er Ben Brimmond's slope, And idly dream near thee Bucksburn. 33 Songs of Many Moods C. A. She sleeps, and on her pallid brow Peace and contentment rest; And those who weep submissive bow To God's decree, — He knoweth best. Even as a lily, scarce in bloom, Is broken by the passing wind, Death took her and a shade of gloom Enveloped those she left behind. They mourn now that Death has wrought The loss to them of one so fair; But they take comfort from the thought Of one more soul to greet them there. THE RECLUSE OF FOND DU LAC There's an old-time cabin on Fond du Lac's shore, With the Morning Glory clinging around its bat- tered door; It has a pretty garden kept by a careful hand That stretches down to where the lake ripples o'er the sand. An Englishman owns all the land for acres around here, But he doesn't cultivate enough to keep himself in beer. Some folks say he's consumptive, and that's a story goes, But what his trouble really is, I guess there's no one knows 34 Songs of Many Moods He lives a hermit's lonely life, hunts, or fishes in the lake, And grows a little corn and wheat for occupation's sake; Of money he has plenty for he never gets in debt — I think there's something on his mind he wishes to forget. One day about a month ago I caught a glimpse of him, Striding through the forest and his face was set and grim; He seemed to me the sort of man who'd had his share of pain, As if life to him was empty and void of loss or gain ; A woman? Well, 'tis incomplete this sad old life of ours Unless it be a woman claims most of its pleasant hours. * * * The moon is rising over the woods, and the lake is all athrill But the cabin door swings open, and all around is still; For the Englishman has found the peace he came to find; — His weary soul has fled the world and left but clay behind ; 'Twas the Brady boys found him, lying there at rest With a pretty woman's portrait upturned on his breast. • • * 35 Songs of Many Moods THE GYPSY BLOOD Have you seen the cattle moving o'er the boundless prairie, When the first gray light of dawn is in the sky? Have you seen the horns tossing when a herd of cattle's crossing The muddy creek that's almost running dry? Have you known the lazy languor as the sun rose high at noon, And you lay at ease beside the singing stream? Have you seen the lake ashimmer with the silver of the moon, And the silent stars above you all agleam? Have you seen the campflre glowing in the dark- ness of the woods Have you ever sat and watched your bannock bake? And with the setting sun behind, you leisurely have dined, On the fish that you have taken from the lake. Have you left the noisy town and answered to the call Of the lonely wilds forever beckoning on? 'Tis there your heart is singing and you're part of it all, Silent, starry night and flaming dawn. 36 Songs of Many Moods 'Tis the gypsy blood that's in you, the restless, roving strain, That makes the lonely life seem good to you; And far from other men you are only happy when The scenes around are wild and new. JUST EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO My little corn cob 's alight, And in this land of snow I'm thinking of a summer night Just eighteen months ago. That night a mellow glory bathed The woodland and the wold; The distant hills were dimly swathed In fairy veils of gold. There's a mystic "something" in that hour Where dark and daylight meet, The evening breathes of leaf and flower Refreshed and dewy sweet. We knew its soft and dreamy spell As in the woods we lay; The shadows round us longer fell, And daylight fled away. Then one by one the stars appeared Like jewels in the night; And soon the darkening shades were seared By Luna's silver light. 37 Songs of Many Moods That night heart words were softly formed That never reached the tongue; And veins that night were gently warmed, And pulsing soul strings wrung. 'Tis long ago, but here tonight I feel the same old spell; I see her eyes all dimly bright With thoughts no tongue can tell. O! Vision Maiden, dim and far, In this land so drear and lone, I see you ever as a star Receding with the dawn. Ah, summer glory, with your words unspoken, Sweet the story Memory tells . . . Hark! How the solitude is broken By the silver-tongued sleigh-bells. 38 Songs of Many Moods THE CALL OF NATURE The shadow waves are rolling o'er the golden seas of wheat; And the drowsy bees are humming in the swelter- ing summer heat ; The great, vast wild is waking, and the Nature voices call, And my yearning heart is aching to be there amongst it all. Where the whip-poor-will is calling, where the shy wood violet nods; In the forest's leafy shadows, the trysting place of gods; When the dew-drops gleam like pearls o'er Nature's flowery lawn, And the fairy heat haze curls from the earth at early dawn. From dawn 'til dusking sunset when the crickets sing their song, In the land of starry silence, far away from sin and wrong; I can hear the "Little Voices", they are calling me I know, To where Nature's soul rejoices, they are calling — and I'll go. 39 Songs of Many Moods CHURCH BELLS They are telling a story, the bells, As they did in a bygone day, Solemn sometimes, sometimes gay, Ringing sweetly over the dells Of a land far away. They tell me a tale of joy, Of sorrow and bitter woe; Then whispering low They tell of a wayward boy And the way he chose to go. They tell of a waiting mother With hair aturning gray, Sighing day by day, With the sister and the brother Of the boy far away. They tell of a gray, dim gloaming, Of an evening sweet with rain; Of a longing heart losing its pain, And the boy that has been roaming Returning home again. Ring out bells, to a hundred homes, To the city and the range; Your chimes may change, But to the one who roams They are never strange. 40 Songs of Many Moods LIFE'S MELODY Play it lightly, play it sprightly, With a hundred merry twirls; Fast and sweet as the tripping feet Of the dancing girls. That will do for childish pleasure, fleeting treasure That is like a summer day; Scarcely ever realized, or prized E'er it flits away. Now tenderly play, half grave half gay, Love has come to stay awhile, It 's but a morning flower, an evening hour, And eyes a-smile. It does not linger long, the song Ends in a sigh; The wilted flower dies, the hour flies In a whispered good-by. Softly and pensively play, the day Draws near its close; Over the near, near west, golden rest Glimmers and glows. This is the evening of life, the strife Of the day is o'er; Round us the quiet shadows creep, and we sleep Forevermore. 41 Songs of Many Moods THEY ENDURE Keep apegging, partner, There 's a goal somewhere ahead, Try and build a superstructure That will stand when you are dead. Deal a little bit of kindness Out amongst your friends each day, That they will remember sometimes When they've laid your bones away. There's no monument like kindness, Granite cannot so endure; Grav'ed stone will perish sometime, But remembrance is sure. To a fellow sore and weary Kindness is like healing oil; If your friend is sick and ailing There's no tonic like a smile. Build yourself a monument Out of kind and thoughtful deeds; Much more lasting than the granite, And not overgrown with weeds. 42 Songs of Many Moods I ENVY NONE We sometimes hear men say, 'If I were him', How happy I would be always; Pleasure's bright sun would never burn dim On all my fleeting days, I would see nothing that is dark and grim, If I was him. They look upon the wealth of men As meeting all their soul's desires; Poor, narrow souls, give them great wealth and then Ask them if that is all their soul requires To gild the narrow confines of its den, And make them better than their fellow men. I envy none, however great they be; However vast their store of gem or gold, So I have health then life is good to me And what I have I honestly can hold ; I am my neighbor's equal, for he Is but a man, all men are born free. I'll still be happy though I'm never rich, By daily toil my daily bread I'll earn With brain or brawn, I care not why or which; And still my independent heart will spurn The man that thrusts his fellow in the ditch And steps upon him, simply to get rich. 43 Songs of Many Moods COMING AND GOING OF DAY Daybreak The night breeze passes softly o'er the reeds Leaving a farewell whisper in its wake; A night bird rises noisily from the weeds And wings its flight across the slumbering lake. A silver arm sweeps grandly out and throws Aside the threadbare cloak that night has worn; A glow of amber, and a gleam of rose, And the day is born. Nightfall The shadows in the wood grow dim and long; The lake reflects the glory of the sky; The bullfrog chorus chants its evening song; The soft wind lingers with reluctant sigh. The mellow radiance of the golden light Westward descends with the departing sun; A vagrant star peeps through the shades of night, And the day is done. 44 Songs of Many Moods THE SHADOWS As we sit by the fire when night appears, And the lights are turned low Dreaming our dreams of yesteryears Long, so long ago; There in the fitful shadows That are flitting to and fro We can see the dim, dear faces Of the friends we used to know. How dear to our hearts are these faces And the scenes that they recall ; While the hand of memory traces Its writing upon the wall, And our hearts are filled with yearning Held in the fleeting thrall, Though we know 'tis all a fantasy, Shadows, that is all. And we smile at the dying embers, And think of life's bright fires; How dear are joys one remembers Ere the last, faint spark expires. The ambitions that we cherished, The hopes, the loves, the desires, Which all in their turn have perished, And left us alone by our fires. 45 Songs of Many Moods We used to kick over the traces, And the old world turned too slow, But we smile to the dear old faces As they dim and dimmer grow, Drifting back into the shadows That are flitting to and fro Like the ghosts of our great ambitions That died so long ago. SPRING I want to sit in the sunshine And watch the clouds sail by, Like white winged ships agliding Out through the limitless sky, With their shadows creeping over me where I lie. I want to watch the little buds That burst on every tree, And I want to idle the day away Where the crystalline waters be, And the vagrant sunbeams are playing fast and free. I want, O! a hundred other things That I didn't want before, Since Spring has taken the year book up To turn its pages o'er, And her smiling lure take hold of me once more. 46 Songs of Many Moods THE ROBIN Harbinger of the Spring Bird of good cheer, While still the sleighbells ring You are here. 'Mongst the bare trees you fly Letting us know- That we'll soon say goodby To frost and snow. Promising brighter day Sunshine and shower, Sunkissed streams and bays, Green leaf and flower. Orchards aflare with bloom Spoils for the bees, Air blent with sweet perfume From the fruit trees. Joy and music heard Pulsing from everything; Welcome to you, sweet bird, Herald of Spring. 47 Songs of Many Moods THE LITTLE VOICES The "Little Voices" whispered to my heart, The other day, They charmed me with their art But would not stay. And as they went away they smiled And bade me follow on To places far and wild, Forgotten lands — and lone. They went their way, but still Their call was vain; Some other day perhaps they will Return and plead again. Ah, "Little Voices", you have had your day, Yours is forbidden fruit; I cannot tread today the Sunset way And idly listen to your magic lute. For there are other voices I must hear, Not less joyful than your own, And I must turn a reluctant ear From your siren tone. So, Wanderlust, you'll call me still In vain, I cannot roam, I'll watch the dawn that bathes the distant hill In glory — from my home. 48 Songs of Many Moods A ROYAL ROMANCE When she was only seventeen, She dreamt of a prince in armor gay; A cavalier of royal mien, With the grandest retinue ever seen, Who would woo her some day. She dreamt of a marble palace fair Where she would live with her courtly squire, And she would have ladies-in-waiting there, And pleasures to banish each trifling care, And all that her heart could ever desire. Two years, and her prince had come to woo, Not clothed in royal purple fine, But clad in working overalls blue, But his words were sincere and his heart was true, So she answered 'Yes,' when he said 'Be mine'. Her palace is not built of marble white, And there are no ladies-in-waiting there; But the "queen" keeps it all so gay and bright That her "king" never wants to go out at night, And It's home, sweet home to a happy pair. 49 So7igs of Many Moods THE LOVELAND Come to the Loveland with me, dear, Where the roses are ever in bloom; Where life's sweetest melodies be, dear, Like the breath of a ling'ring perfume. There where all laughter and bliss is, There where life's bright sunshine plays, And with your smiles and your kisses There will I live always. In a Paradise land of our own, dear, Far from the world of care, Where only dream pleasures are known, dear, We will be happy there. There where all laughter and bliss is That only true love can impart, With your treasure of smiles and kisses There would I live, dear heart. ANNIVERSARY OF BURNS Old Time takes up the Book of Fame And backward o'er its pages turns; Then, pensive, pauses o'er a name, The name of Scotland's poet, Burns. 'Tis writ in characters of gold That gleam untarnished in the light; His mem'ry never shall grow old Until day fails to follow night. 50 Songs of Many Moods And now today in every state And every corner of the earth, Men congregate to celebrate The anniversary of his birth. The poet who gave to humble toil A dignity it had not known; Himself a worker of the soil, His fame has world-wide grown. He clad the "crimson tipped flowers" In robes surpassing kings' array, He sang how all our varied hours The universal plan obey. He gave the cottars' lowly home A reverence for God, more great Than e'er is found in sculptured dome Or costly palaces of state. He sang the nobler themes of life, Of lands from chains and tyrants free; When peace would end all meaner strife, And "man to man would brothers be". His works shall live when classic lays Lie all forgot in mould'ring urns; And joy shall still ring in the days That hail the birth of Robert Burns. 51 Songs of Many Moods LIFE Some lives are like a summer day, The hours of which serenely drift away, Passing unheeded 'til the sunset hour Flings o'er the west its ling'ring, golden ray. For others, ere life's sun has risen high Dark clouds of sorrow lower in the sky, And when the quiet evening ends their day The weary lips form no regretful sigh. Some wander through life's dewy morn, And dream mongst roses newly born; And others grasping at the rose Seem able but to pluck the thorn. Why all the good? Why all the bad? Why are some joyful and some sad? Is not the world created so That everybody could be glad? Can joy not sweeten all our sorrow? Can gladsome hope not gild tomorrow? Has not the world a stock of good Enough for us to lend and borrow? We live, we love, we fight, we lie, We build, destroy, and ere we die We find a little time to learn A smile is better than a sigh. 52 Songs of Many Moods POLAND Land where the war-clouds are lowering And shedding their bloody mist; Where a stricken people are cowering From the blows of the mailed fist. Where hunger stalks like a spectre grim, Where ravished Peace has fled; And the candle of hope burns low and dim Over the silent dead. Where women and children fall by the way Crushed to the cold, damp sod By the feet of the beasts of prey Who are made in the image of God. Where the skeleton form creeps To stifle the lingering breath; Who laughs, while Poland weeps In her agony of death. Can the faith of a better day Live in the broken land? Hope lives, for the people pray, That the world may understand. 53 Songs of Many Moods THE CREED Why preach so many different creeds With varied paradise above, When all this sad old world needs Is just a universal love? For God is Love, and Love is good; O sophist with your theories new, The savage with his idols rude May have more hope of heaven than you. You hold your narrow creed alone; Self-worshipped god yourself, while he Bows down before his graven stone To worship what he cannot see. Why should he at the Judge's nod Be cast into eternal hell Because he never knew the God That you profess to serve so well? Nay. God is Love and Love is just, And surely Justice never can Condemn the weak, impassioned dust From which He formed His creature, Man. Your creeds and theories must be wrong You hold no key to Life's last door, For it were never worth a song With woe behind and hell before. 54 Songs of Many Moods We need no more the creeds you give Which so unsatisfactory prove, But give us rather while we live A lasting, universal love. LA FOLLETTE Your ear, Wisconsin! I would speak above oblivion's sod Ere you inter 'neath its forgetfulness The fallen greatness of the one Who was your erstwhile hero: Poets have sung his name, a few in praise, But many more in scorn, and I would sing Neither to praise nor blame, but as a passerby Conscious of both faults and qualities. Hear then, Wisconsin, but I charge you now To hold your peace, lest you disturb "His Great- ness," And his spirit rise to contradict your argument, Regardless of whichever way it take; This was a fault of his which you forgave him long But there's a limit, and he overstepped it when He ranked himself before his country's honor, Bringing the thunders of your anger on his head. Alas, Wisconsin, that you should have been An Alma Mater unto such a son! He was the pampered darling of your doting eyes, And so you chose him for the senate That he might serve you in the nation's counsels; His speech was smooth as a damascus blade, 55 Songs of Many Moods As polished and as keen, and rang as clear; His very name enthralled you with its sound, Yet he fell short of all your reckoning Not once, but many times, until you swore A better man should take his place. But ah, Wisconsin! Ah, the magic of its sound, 'Twas not the man you chose, but La Follette, the name: And so again he stood where you had sworn That he should stand no more; And when his country's liberty Was rudely flouted by the Berlin buccaneer, He held his peace, while freemen Rose in their righteous anger to protest. O! crowning vanity! And he could think That he was greater than his country's greatness, And in his petty selfishness Stand passively observant while its honor Hung wavering upon the scales of Fate. Thus did Wisconsin see her favorite son Scorn the high ideals that her fathers fought And died for; ne'er again his name Shall hold for her the allure it held In days gone by, his greatness ends While others of her less renowned sons March forth to take their place At the ramparts of their country. 56 Songs of Many Moods TO "THE ETTRICK LINTIE" Ye'll pardon my presumption, for I write a wee bit praise, Having read your "Scottish Mother" a sketch o' hamely ways; That stirred a muckle yearning in a hairt that 's aye burning Wi' memories o' heather hills and glens across the the sea, An' mony bonnie scenes I'll lo'e until the day I dee. Your music wis auld farrant, and your sang to some wis strange, But to them wha aince have heard it the mither tongue can niver change, And the thochts that you awauken fly awa to heath and bracken, To the moors where rise the pairtrik, and where the black cock calls, Where the ivy clings sae bonnie to the hoary castle walls. I sometimes strike an antrim chord, but nae for mony a day Has the couthy mither-tongue conveyed my modest, faltering lay; But I heard the "Lintie's" sang in the forenicht sweet and lang, And it stirred my gangrel muse to re-echo back the strain To treest the "Ettrick Lintie" to her music aince again. 57 Songs of Many Moods ROBERT BURNS The spark of genius, fanned to flame, Glows brightly at the shrine of Fame. Where is engraved the immortal name Of Robert Burns. He sang not of the ways of kings, Nor soared on Fancy's fabled wings; But looked on Nature's plan of things And saw 'twas good. He saw the dawn flush o'er the sky; He heard the laverock sing on high; The humble daisy caught his eye And thrilled his soul. Until he found himself a part Of Nature's grand, supernal art And poured the feeling of his heart In tuneful song. And now when many years have sped We "heap the honors on his head'", Denied him 'til his soul had fled To more congenial spheres. He left a legacy of worth To all his "brothers of the earth", So mark the mem'ry of his birth, The Immortal Memory of Burns. 58 Songs of Many Moods THE SOUTAR It is na big, but neat and trig The soutar's shop 's aye keepit; The beets are fine placed a' in line And nae a' careless heapit; And aydent aye the soutar plies his hammer and his awl, And aye his wark is weel in hand' as nicht begins to fall. His tools laid by, he'll tak' his wye Doon by the winding Don; His cares forgot and deep in thought He'll slowly wander on; While in his mind he'll slowly form a pensive rhyme on Man, A theme o' suffering and sin since this auld warld began. Whyle Nature grand with high command Will fix his wondering mind, And wild and free her scenes he'll see, And inspiration find; And then his lay will aiblins charm some weary, jaded heart, Wi' thochts o' peaceful country scenes far frae the city's mart. 59 Songs of Many Moods To classic heichts he mak's not flichts But heartfelt and sincere, His lay he sings and aye it brings The peace o' Nature near. He kens the secret o' this life is jist to be content, And gin his sangs bring some ane joy he coonts the time weel spent. He has his dreams, by fitful gleams He sees the stormclouds' lining ; But day by day he works away Nor fretting nor repining; Content to ken his wark's weel done at setting o' the sun; Aye helpin' ithers on the road but asking help frae none. THE CROSS Here hangs the Cross, the cross I cannot kiss; But ponder why 'tis there ; The beads are pleasant hours, but this O'erwhelms me with despair. I backward count the beads, the happy past Returns again with thee; I count the beads until at last The cross returns to me. Thou'rt gone O Love! Forever, — yes, I bow beneath the greater loss, And calmly now my lips I press Unto the cross, My Cross. 60 Songs of Many Moods AN EVENING WALK The sun's last, mellow, golden rays Were ling'ring in the silent wood; The birdies sang their vesper lays, And Nature was in peaceful mood. Aroun' me lay a lovely scene — The valley, stretching far below Till distant mountain intervene, Their frowning crests still capped with snow. Abeen a whinclad slope, where A cairt-track winds rough and rude, The smoke coiled lazily in the air From where some lanely cottage stood. A burnie murmured softly near Somewhere amang the tall, gaunt pines, To me these pinewoods are mair dear Than a' the sooth's grape-laden vines. Society's hollow, polished art May mak' a strong appeal to some But Nature wild best charms the heart As a' her varying seasons come. Ah, the auld hame and auld freens Are better far than gowd or fame, To me the thochts o' these wild scenes Will aye be Memories o' Hame. 61 Songs of Many Moods THE EVENING STAR When the setting sun has flushed The western hills and sky, And the forest's voice is hushed, There appears, gleaming far O'er the mountains high, The Evening Star. Oft the cottar homeward wending Through the dusking twilight, Gazes at the star ascending, And admiringly will scan it, Pondering o'er the brilliant sight Of Venus — queenliest planet. Even the city worker weary Turning home with listless mien, From the streets so gray and dreary, Views the star with eager eyes, And some cheering thoughts may glean From this empress of the skies. 62 Songs of Many Moods SIGNS OF SPRING Though Brimmond's sides are bleak and bare, And Phebus seldom gies a stare Frae 'yont the clouds; There 's promise breathing in the air, And ilka bush has got its share O' green leaf buds. I wyte the mavis isna blate At whistlin' blythely to his mate Wi' amorous thrills; The sun has taen to ling'ring late Afore he gang his evening gait Ayont the hills. And summer wi' its humming bees And a' its daisy spangled leas, Will sune be here; When the soft flower-perfumed breeze Will gently sway the greenclad trees, It's drawing near. It winna jist be verry lang Afore we hear the lintie's sang Re-echoing frae the boughs; While in the summer nichts we'll gang And rove wi' lichtsome herts amang The bonnie wids and howes. 63 Songs of Many Moods APRIL The April sun is shining brightly On the river's trembling breast, And the fleecy clouds float lightly In an azure sky, that nightly Paints rich colors o'er the West. Slender daffodils are blowing In the soft caressing breeze, And shy violets are showing Where the limpid stream is flowing 'Neath the dim shade of the trees. Through the woods the cushat's coo-ing Re-echoes all the bright day long, And the lintie with his woo-ing All the woodland is imbu-ing As he trills his merry song. From the fields there comes the singing Of the careless, happy herd; Woods and fields with music ringing Tell that April bright is bringing Happiness to man and bird. 6 4 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS U c 015 906 677 *