WOOD NOTES MILDRED WHITNEY STILLMAN THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES WOOD NOTES WOOD NOTES By MILDRED WHITNEY STILLMAN Copyright. 1922 by DUPFIELD & COMPANY PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA TO MY MOTHER 904179 CONTENTS PAGE WOOD NOTES In the Night I April 2 Spring 4 The Wild Canary 6 May 7 Pansies 8 Stillwood 9 Country Lullaby u Nocturne 12 Summer 13 Strawberries 15 Water Lily 17 Cobwebs 18 Cornwall 19 Yellow Leaves 20 Chickadee , 21 November 23 Coon Hunt 24 Above Sutherland s Pond 25 Wyoming 26 Snow in the Rockies 27 Saranac 28 Concord River 29 CONTENTS PAGE Fog on Sargent 30 On Western Mt 31 Zermatt 33 Caux-sur-Territet 34 THE CHILDREN Magnificat 37 Promise 38 Jane . 39 The Nestling 40 Baffled 41 The Others 42 Cuddle Down 43 Godmother 44 The Favorite 45 The Squirrel 47 Homeward Bound 48 City Lullaby 49 Calvin 50 Science 52 The Croup Kettle 53 The Hoot Owl 54 Faith 55 The Star 56 Grandfather . . : 57 Johnny 58 The Pine Pillow 59 My Daffodil 60 Bed-time 61 CONTENTS PACK THE SEA The Sloop 65 The Laubster Boat 66 Sea Lullaby 68 Tide 69 Carpenteria 71 Baker s Beach 72 The Crossing 73 THOUGHTS Snow 77 With a Pipe 78 Park Avenue 79 Lines 80 Dolores 81 J. S 82 The Japan Society Exhibit 84 The Auction 85 The Cosway Miniatures 87 Harvard Conservatory 88 The Statue of the Minute Man 89 Fifth Avenue 90 Boylston Street 91 Westminster Chimes 92 Sunset Hymn 93 Credo 94 Communion Hymn 95 The Visitor 97 Christmas Eve 98 Envoi 99 A number of these poems appeared in John Martin s Book, The Youth s Companion, The Churchman, The New York Evening Post, The New York Times, The Boston Transcript, and The Cornwall Press. WOOD NOTES IN THE NIGHT The furry folk go out to feed In the night, when the woods are still. The field mouse scurries to find her seed Over the snowy hill. The rabbit bounds from his bush away, The skunk steals slowly to seek his prey, And the fox slinks into the shadow gray, In the night, when the woods are still. The snowflakes spread out a clean new sheet In the night, when the woods are still, Where the field mouse dances on fairy feet, And the skunk plods on to kill. And when iced trees glint in the morning glow, And woodsmen out to the forest go, They read wee tragedies written in snow, In the night, when the woods are still. [i] APRIL Come away into the springtime For the brooks are running free, And the blush is on the maple, While the dainty willow tree Swings her airy veil of yellow To the calm adoring stream, And within his faithful mirror, Sees her own reflection gleam. Come away into the woodland, For the bold skunk cabbage rise, And hepaticas have opened Childhood s wonder-widened eyes, And the forest flower of Easter, Red as blood and white as snow, Thrusts up through the spongy leaf mould, Where the polypodies grow. 1*1 APRIL Come away and hear the spring-song That the nesting blue-birds sing, Hear the water thrushes carol Where the alder tassels swing, And when misty evening hushes Beast and bird with stilling wand, Hear the love song of the peepers From the meadow pond! [3] SPRING His men were laying my garden wall, "Love, love," the bright birds calling, Tassels hung light on the maples tall, And daffodil leaves, green candles of spring, Pierced bravely up, while each shovel swing Sent the brown earth falling, falling, Thud, thud, on stone and mud, The brown earth falling, falling. The gray head mason watched his men, "Love, love," the birds were calling, While stone on stone they laid again, He turned his weathered face toward me, "Could you use a Paisley Shawl?" said he, Soft earth so softly falling. I knew the man and his workmen all, "Love, love," the bright birds calling, SPRING They had built me many a strong, straight wall, And I answered indulgently, liking him well, "Do you know of a Paisley Shawl to sell? * Soft, soft the brown earth falling. Then over his face a strange shade came, "Love, love," the sweet birds calling, I could have bitten my tongue for shame, So strangely, and proudly he answered, "No! My wife died fifteen years ago" Down, down the dull earth falling. Spring in each bud and thud on thud, The brown earth falling, falling. [Si THE WILD CANARY From the elm tree s lightest spray, Where the tassel buds are swinging, Floats a merry roundelay, Hark! the wild canary singing. Down the liquid music trills Where the gay forsythia showers Golden stars, and daffodils Prank the wall with yellow flowers. All the joy the blossoms bring, Trembles in his lilting note. All the sunshine of the spring Gushes from his throbbing throat! [6] MAY Above the rushing of the brooks The winds of heaven roar by, And drive the cloud flotillas far Across the rainless sky. Along the old Bog Meadow Road The airy dogwood gleams, And little yellow violets stand Knee deep in swollen streams. Young brake unroll their downy fronds Beside the trickling run, And every plumy, feathered tree, Is nodding to the sun. [7] PANSIES Pansies, pensees, little thoughts in flower, Tender fancies sprung to life In the twilight hour. Hopes too subtle for confession Dreams too sweet to find expression Far too shy, for human ear, Touched the ground, and blossomed here. [8] STILLWOOD To G. T. When hollyhocks are blooming Beside the low front door, Then come to us at Stillwood, And stay a week or more. The roses by the garden path Will thrill you through and through, And I will put the reddest rose In a sea-green vase for you. And you shall have the gray-green room, With windows looking down, Over the river valley, Beyond the hidden town. A room as cool as willows, With woodwork white as snow, A table by the little bed, And an armchair light and low. [9] STILLWOOD And through the western window Will float the faintest breeze, And you will see the sun go down, Behind the maple trees. You will see the sun go down And hear the wood-thrush call, And smell the briar roses, That scramble on the wall, The wilful briar roses, That clever gardeners prune, Oh! come to us at Stillwood And make a double June! [10] COUNTRY LULLABY When the round red sun is sinking in the west in the west, Then the baby robins snuggle in their nest in their nest, And the father robin sings, and the mother spreads her wings, Saying, "Cuddle little birdies to my breast to my breast." When the farm horse falls a-dozing in his stall in his stall, And the puppy dog has curled up in a ball in a ball, Then the little crickets peep, "Children, children go to sleep, For the stars will soon be shining on us all on us all!" [ii] NOCTURNE O! Velvet night, with swiftly rushing breezes, Rushing breezes whispering among the restless trees, O! Precious night! How welcome thy releases From all the glaring garishness the bright day sees. Now the dark hills are soft as purple pansies, Now the river meadows shimmer misty gray, Fireflies flicker by, as vagrant as our fancies, And the crawling night boat glimmers on its way. [12] SUMMER Breathless! The heavy maple hangs her listless leaves, The rambler blossom droops beneath the eaves, The sulky hen walks silently and slow, The cows crawl homeward with their heads held low, Dejected, limp, the pastured horses stand, Heat s curse is on the land. Then light, Like the flip of a fair lady s fan, Stirs a flutter of breeze, In the tips of the trees, And below, As the harder puffs blow, All the branches swing slow, Turning up the dull green Till the silver is seen. [13] SUMMER Wild, wild, Swoops the wind down the draw in the hills, Where it riots and spills, On the grass and the flowers; Languid, drooping for hours, All the maples swing high, As the squall rushes by, With a screech and a wail, And the rose petals sail On the wings of the gale, Over barnyard and town, Till they falter die down. Then, in a gust, On the dry lawn and dust, Like food for the hungry, like sleep after pain, Sweeps the rain! [14] STRAWBERRIES Have you seen the Fairy lanterns in the July fields, Mid the sunshine and the fragrance that the long grass yields, Lest some elf should go astray From the shortest, surest way, To the banquets where the fiddler crickets play ? In the nighttime you can see their tiny crimson glow In the grasses tawny forest, everywhere you go, For the firefly with his light, Touches each and makes it bright, And they glimmer, glimmer, glimmer through the night. STRAWBERRIES Sometimes I wonder how twould be if you or I, When the baby moon is swinging in the evening sky, Should just creep right out of bed To those bits of flaming red, And then, follow, follow, follow where they led. Do you think we d see the fairy folk upon their way, Where the elfin court is gathered for a banquet gay? And upon a mushroom chair, With a wand of maiden hair, We should watch the fairy princess o er her court hold sway? [16] WATER LILY (Mac Dowell) Floating, floating on the dark lake waters Pallid gleaming, through the dusky night, What though the mire around my feet is clinging? Lo! My heart opens, fragrant, pure and white. Waiting, waiting, on the still lake waters, Yearning, yearning art thou coming soon? Wilt thou shine upon me most beautiful en chantress ? Hasten, hasten, lovely Lady Moon! [17] COBWEBS We worked until the east flushed red, And found, when we were through, A mesh of cobwebs spread around, Spun out across the grassy ground, Cobwebs two by two Just where our clumsy feet must pass, Cobwebs swinging on the grass, Glistening with dew. [18] CORNWALL Yellow leaves are falling, falling On the dewy ground. Chickadees are calling, calling In the woods around. Storm King s glowing gold and purple Fades to sober brown, And through swiftly thinning hedges Looms a larger town. All too soon the sun is throwing Schunemunk in purples clear All too soon each day is going Of this golden year ! [19] YELLOW LEAVES The dew is on the eyelids of the sleeping morn, No merry robin calls her mate among the golden trees, The field mouse hurries harvesting between the shocks of corn, And chipmunks gather winter stores beneath the hickories. Along the Midas charmed woods, the happy children roam, Where up the yellow chestnut trees, the yellow grapevines run, The tawny caterpillar crawls to weave her winter home, And crickets by the kitchen door await the tardy sun. [20] CHICKADEE Leaves are filling up the gutters, Empty nests are swinging bare, Song birds all have fled to southward From the nipping autumn air. But I see, on a tree, Plump and round with jollity, A merry little breakfaster a-chirping, "Chicka dee!" He s a saucy little fellow In his sober black and gray, And he hails the passing squirrels With a chirp that seems to say, " How d ye-do ? How d ye-dee ? Oh! I m very glad to see All my friends so well and happy very happy, Chickadee!" [21] CHICKADEE He chuckles at the empty nest A-swinging up so high. He quirks his funny tufted head, And gives a merry cry, "O-ho! The season s over, Summer guests have gone away. I m not afraid of frosty nights, I m here and here to stay Chickadee! Chickadee day day day!" [22] NOVEMBER When dull November drags across the sky, Fold after fold of massive mournful cloud, When from the lanky pine, the last crows cry, And shutters rattle in the East wind loud. When old nests totter on the empty trees, And garden beds are rough and black and bare, And only squirrels and gray chickadees Still search the hedgerow for their meager fare. When the sad wind draws down the sadder hills, Moaning the sweetness of the summer dead, Wailing the cruelty of frost that kills, Sighing for song birds far, far southward fled, Then look! Along the faster flowing rills, Already maple buds are purple red! [23] COON HUNT Slam, slash, stumble in the pitch, black trees, Crash, crunch, crumble on the brook-beds dry. Oak leaves rattle in the cold night breeze, Wild clouds gallop from the green north sky. Hound dog howling, up the West Point Road, Hoot owl "whooing" at the cold white moon. Ten men panting with their guns on the load, Old Jim Babcock is out for a coon ! [24] ABOVE SUTHERLAND S POND Ridge after ridge, the rough hills roll away, The near ones brown, and then a purple hue, And further yet a faint and fainter blue, Until the last long plateau well might be The pale horizon of a distant sea, Serenely shining on a summer day. We hear the wind sweep through the empty skies, And far off, from the hidden river plain, The muffled rumble of a rushing train Then quiet. Not one bird with little trills Disturbs the solemn silence of the hills. The hills so wild and lonely, who would say That from this rock scarce fifty miles away, A panting, throbbing, seething city lies! [25] WYOMING In the meadow marshes, where the bull elk wallow, In the fallen timber, where the pheasant breeds, There s a subtle magic, luring us to follow, Where the printed deer track, to the stream bed leads. Not for me the rifle, not the bullet dealing To the woodland creatures suffering and death. Mine the haunted voices, through the forest stealing, Mine the quickened pulses, and the deeper breath. Mine a sense of oneness, with each wild thing near me Paw, and wing and antler, moss and flower and tree I would dwell among them till they cease to fear me In a sweet primeval, Eden harmony. [26] SNOW IN THE ROCKIES Out of the air a cloud Subtle and soft and slow Wreathing us in a shroud From the hills and the valleys below, Out of the air a cloud And out of the cloud snow! Snow so gentle and still That the fire sings loud and high, Snow so white on the grass on the hill That the earth is as light as the sky, Flake by flake on the grasses until The earth is as pure as the sky. Far, far from the earth we seem While the dense cloud curtain s bar, Bar us away like a soul in a dream, From the world of things that are, Far, far from the world of man we seem Near to the realm of the star! [27] SARANAC On the lake blue waves are dancing In the morning breeze Every dainty leaflet trembles On the white birch trees. In the cove beyond the pine woods, Where white water lilies gleam, Winding, creeping, semi-sleeping, Flows a little stream. [28] CONCORD RIVER Dip . . . swing Glistening blade, Cleaving the waters through! Glide . . . gleam Over the stream, Gracefully, my canoe! Willows are leaning to look in the glass, Cows never raising their heads as we pass. Calm . . . still Lo! yonder hill Sleepeth beneath the blue. [29] FOG ON SARGENT The wind is hushed, the waves grow still, The fog slides in across the hill, Shrouding the landing, wreathing the town, Billowing up on the sides of Brown. Like wild merchildren forth at play, The first gay vapors stream away, Over the Hadlocks, and up the Sound, Skirting the feet of the hills around. The balsams melt into misty gray, A white wall shuts the world away, And the giant rocks on Sargent loom, Grim and grand in the pearly gloom. And below the cliffs where birches gleam, Long branches drip into the stream, The salt dew wets the fern s green feather, Sea and mountain are met together. [30] ON WESTERN MT. A rosy bloom spreads over bare old Sargent, Long purple shadows fall across the trees, That rank on rank press up the mountain s shoulders, And row on row, reach outward to the seas. The calm of heaven rests over the pale narrows And stills the placid sweep of Blue Hill bay, Only the line of white on Bunker s Ledges Breaks the pure mirror of the Western way. The Western way, white flecked with tiny sail boats, Slow homeward drifting on the tide s full stream, Past wooded shores of deep mysterious islands, And lighthouse towers like castles in a dream. ON WESTERN MT. And here, beside me on the granite ledges Where rude and free, young eagles might reside Here on the cliff, a fairy garden blossoms Filling a cranny on the mountain s side. One hair-bell, purple as the morning ocean, Sea golden-rod, more yellow than the sun, And tender moss, and slender polypodies, Along the tiny crevice gayly run. I think when Beauty passed across the island, Breathing charmed breath upon the waters clear, Raising her mighty wings above the mountains, A little feather fell, and lighted here. [32] ZERMATT You seem the whitest thing on earth Monta Rosa! wrapped in snow! So pure, so high but what a dearth Of life and warmth the glaciers slow Crawl down your surface old, So lonely and so cold! 33 1 CAUX-SUR-TERRITET A small boat rests at anchor in the lake, Whose blue, unruffled by the restless wake, Mirrors the shining sail. And waiting for the day not yet begun, The lake lies placid, with the rising sun Kissing her visage pale. Come let us linger by this ancient tree, And watch the smoke that curls so drowsily Above the sleeping town. For hush! the very mountain is at rest. A weary cloud is cradled on his breast So scarred and bare and brown ! [34l THE CHILDREN 353 MAGNIFICAT God, who hast given me all, Since life began, All of the laughter and love Of the years short span- Till I thought that the best gift was given, And the highest good Lo! and Thou offerest now Motherhood ! [37] PROMISE Are you trying to call me, my wee one, Are you restless to be free? Do you beat on the walls of your prison, To be out in the world with me ? So close I enfold you, my wee one, A bud with petals curled; Soon only my arms shall hold you Away from the wide, wide, world. And then you will leave my arms, darling, And then you will run from my side Oh ! let the weeks linger, my wee one, So safely you now abide! [38] JANE As I watch your rosy, sleeping face, And feel your soft head pressed In the curved hollow of my arm, And your hand lie on my breast, Light seems the weariness and pain I bore for you last year Gone like the memory of a dream, Now that I hold you here! [393 THE NESTLING We have a little turtle-dove, With round blue eyes, Her nest is on the window-sill, Beneath the skies. Cuddled down in afghans white, There she lies from morn till night, Watching every cloudlet In grave surprise. Oftentimes we hear her give A merry coo, To ask a passing birdie, "Who are you? If you fly so far and high, Why must I so quiet lie? I should like to flutter With you too." [40] BAFFLED Soft limbed little mystery, Little we know with all our care, How wise the food that we prepare How best to give you sun and air. Sometimes your eyes so solemn blue Will seem to quiz me through and through, As though to say "You, poor fool, you!" [41] THE OTHERS She will lie for an hour, when her nap is done, In her wide white crib alone, And croon and gurgle to herself, And smile at each merry tone. Till I wonder if she is talking there, To someone I can not see Someone she played with in the air, Before she came down to me. It may be her brothers and sisters come To see the eldest here, Eager to learn of their future home With flutterings of fear. And she gurgles so contentedly, And smiles with such merry pride, I am sure she is telling them all is well. That our arms are open wide. [42] CUDDLE DOWN Little white bird, with the soft flannel breast, Cuddle down, cuddle down, into your nest, Hands never idle, the merry day through, Faithful rag dolly is waiting for you, Press your hot cheek on her cool gingham breast, Cuddle down, cuddle down, into your nest. Soft in the nursery and loud in the hall, Little shoes trotted from window to wall, Now the limp stockinged feet, plead for their rest, Cuddle down, cuddle down, in your warm nest. Eyes wide with wonder from morning till night, Draw the fringed curtains now, in the dim light, Smooth out protesting lips, mother knows best, Cuddle down, cuddle down, into your nest. [43] GODMOTHER The godmothers came in olden days, With fairy gifts to the cradle side, They brought there beauty, and kindly ways, And grace, and other charms beside. And perhaps if you laid your hand on my brow, And left there wishes three, The fairies would listen, and even now, Would bring those wishes to me. Perhaps if you wished me your gentle eyes, And your smile so kind and true, The fairies would listen, and bye-and-bye, I should grow just like you ! [44l THE FAVORITE Said the rubber dog with the long straight tail To the duck with the emerald breast, "You are very lovely to look upon, But the baby loves me best." For she takes my whole head in her mouth, And I patiently let her chew, And suck and bite with all her might, To help her teeth come through." Said the emerald duck, "She would never dare Do such a thing to me, But she finds me floating in her bath, And laughs and crows with glee." "I ll tell you what," said the rubber dog, "Let us together stand, On the bureau top, and see which one, She first takes in her hand." [45] THE FAVORITE So they took their stand on the bureau top, And stood there side by side, The dog held his tail up straight and high, And the green duck swelled with pride. Then the baby came on her nurse s arm, And their hearts went pit-a-pat, The baby did not glance at them, She was hugging the worsted cat! [46] THE SQUIRREL Little squirrel, in the ramble, Is your nose as cold as mine? Don t you find it very draughty, Where the tree tops intertwine ? Little squirrel, with no mittens, Don t your fingers ache with cold ? Did your hair turn gray as grandpa s Just because you are so old ? Are you never thirsty, squirrel, From the food you have to eat ? Or are peanuts just as juicy As my bowl of cream of wheat ? [47] HOMEWARD BOUND When winds blow chill, on the mall and the lake, And clouds gather dreary and dark, Like a flock of white sea-birds, that scurry ashore, The babies come home from the Park. The brisk nurses hasten, the slender wheels whirl, And beneath the warm worsteds and silk, Each little heart beats with a pang and a thrill, At the thought of hot porridge and milk. The limousines spin through the late afternoon, They crowd in the gathering dark, But their long line must wait at the Avenue gate, While the babies come home from the Park. CITY LULLABY 1 Good-night my baby girl, The city streets grow bright, Each lamp-post holds a lantern, And each window holds a light. The dusky limousines Speed on their homeward way, And high above the tower, Blooms soft the fading day. Here in the darkening room, We throw the windows wide, And draw the crib-clothes down And tuck you snug, inside A cozy flannel ball, Among the covers white Good-night my baby girl, God keep you all the night! [49] CALVIN The robin sits upon her nest, In the pine tree by the swing, With blue-green eggs beneath her breast, She has no time to sing. The tulips by the garden wall Hold chalices of red, And my dear boy who loves them all Must lie in his white bed. The violets and anemones Have starred the pasture gay, White apple blossoms load the breeze With honeyed breath of May. What care I, if flowers grow, And fairy perfumes shed, When my dear boy who loves them so Must lie in his white bed ? [Sol CALVIN But I will seek them all for him, Each tender, winsome thing, That blossoms by the wood-lot rim, And paves the path of spring. And I ll bring home the fragrant pile Of flowers white and red, And then my little boy will smile, As he lies in his white bed. SCIENCE Mother, do you know what ? Mother, do you know what ? Water is a pick and shovel. Mother, do you know what ? Mother, do you know what ? Water is a pick and shovel. Because it digs out ditches wide, And rolls rocks down the mountain side, Because it digs the ditches wide, Water is a pick and shovel. [52] THE CROUP KETTLE The incense burns to that malignant joss, Who visits croup on little boys and girls, The humid, benzoin-laden atmosphere Dampens the hot-browed victim s yellow curls. And while his burning fingers reach for mine, And vise-like, close about my cooler hand, His heavy eyes are dumbly questioning The torment that he can not understand. Then low and lower droop the tired lids, The curling lashes sweep The crimson cheeks, as some more kindly god Has drawn him into even-breathing sleep. (531 THE HOOT OWL God of little children who sees us through the night, As if it were the pleasant light of day, Although the corners grow so black, When nurse turns out the light, And mother s room is very far away. God of little children, who brings the stars all out, And in the nursery window bids them peep, Please ask that ugly hoot owl, To stop his dismal shout, He sounds so lonesome that I cannot sleep. 154] FAITH "When I was away from you, last night, Did you say your prayers when you went to bed?" Calvin looked up with his slow, sweet smile. "I just forgot," he said. "Oh! Calvin, I fear that God was hurt, Just as I should be, If some night you went off to bed Without your kiss for me." But Calvin still smiled placidly, "God knew I was sleepy," said he. 155 3 THE STAR The evening star shone all alone, O er the hill, where the pine trees are. My little boy looked up at me "Is that God s service star? Did He send His son to the war?" "Long years ago," I said, "In Bethlehem, His service star Stood over a cattle shed." [56] GRANDFATHER Last night I dreamed that you came here to see Our little new-born boy, so silently You stood beside his curtained crib and smiled, Just as you used to smile, when Calvin played Around your room on winter afternoons. And with you came your friend, Who went through life and laid down life with you; The night lamp shone upon his silver hair, And rosy face, as he stooped low to see The little boy who bears his name and yours. It seemed most sweet and natural, you and he Together here, and speaking not a word, Far too distinct and natural for a dream, And so I love to think that you have seen This baby too and love him as the rest. [57] JOHNNY You are so soft and lissome Johnny dear, Lying along my arm, close nestled here, Soothing your hunger in the sweet, old way. The good old way, God gave to baby man, Long ages back, when first the world began, And Eve nursed Abel at the break of day. In the deep joy of those fresh morning hours, I think that she forgot lost Eden s flowers. [58] THE PINE PILLOW Held safe by white enameled bars, Little Johnny sleeps. Above the flowered coverlid, His pink nose peeps. Upon his rosy forehead Slender curls lie damp, And the pale light reaches to them From the round street lamp. As I bend down low above him, Tucking covers tight, The warm, sweet breath of fir trees Fills me with delight. The smell of Northeast fir trees In the forests old, From the pudgy balsam pillow That his hot arms hold. [59] MY DAFFODILL When Johnny wears his yellow suit, Around his neck a frill, And frills around his tender arms, He is my daffodil. My laughing daffodil, who lights The room with April joy, My winning elf, my Ariel, Half blossom and half boy. [60] BED-TIME Come, little boy, in chambray blue, Mother is waiting for you. Lead the gray elephant back to the ark, The lion so golden, the camel so dark, Lay them down carefully, each cherished toy, Bed-time has come, little boy. Dear, lissome cherub, all rosy and white, Bathed and powdered and clothed for the night, I draw up the neck of your fleecy nightgown, And over your pink toes, the long folds fall down, Down on my shoulder then goes your soft head, As you go riding away to your bed. The windows are open, the shutters are drawn, The fresh evening breezes slip in from the lawn, So comfy and cosy my little boy lies, While the sandman comes stealing to close his brown eyes. God pity the great folk in palaces bred, Who never have put their own babies to bed ! [61] THE SEA [63] THE SLOOP Up she goes on a big wave s shoulder Down she goes in the trough of the sea, Little she recks of the silver rollers Light as a petrel and just as free. Smack in her face blows the smart sou wester Filling her mains l and creaking her mast Little cares she for the brisk wind s bluster Safe as a petrel and just as fast. [6 5 ] THE LAUBSTER BOAT The sou west wind is breezin up along the western way, It s chaupy in the narrows, I heard a speed boat say, I m only jest a laubster chug, I get there anyway. Chug-a-chug-a-chug-a-chug-a-chug. Out into the chaup With a rattle and a haup Spray sheet all a-slaup Chug-a-chug! The little lads in naukabaouts are coming to the lea, The ladies in slim motor boats are frightened by the sea, But laubstermen, and laubsterboats, for weather, what care we? Chug-a-chug-a-chug-a-chug-a-chug. [66] THE LAUBSTER BOAT Out the Western way Where the porpoise play, Nosin off the spray Chug-a-chug! I prob ly ain t so dainty when lyin* at the slip, Like all them cocky summer boats thet every sea can tip, But wait until rough weather comes, I m good for any trip. Chug-a-chug-a-chug-a-chug-a-chug. When the buoys toll, When the ground swells roll Over bunker shoal Chug-a-chug! [67] SEA LULLABY Under white bows, little waves lapping Under gray skies, grayer sails flapping, On crimson cushions, my little girl napping Lazily, lazily napping. Far off a yawl, the dark island hugging Far off a fisher boat chugging and chugging Dreamy salt air, my little girl drugging Drowsily, drowsily drugging. Over slate sea, one slate winged gull flying Over green cove, one hungry gull crying, Soundly asleep, my little girl lying Quietly, quietly, lying. [68] TIDE Relentlessly, relentlessly The tide swells in from the deep sea. Relentlessly, and shock on shock The wave swings in upon the rock, The waters croon and purl and hiss, As weedy stone they coldly kiss. Relentlessly, relentlessly The tide swells in from the deep sea. It lifts the buoys and the floats, And swings the little tethered boats, And skiffs drawn high upon the beach, Are floated from their owner s reach. Relentlessly, relentlessly The tide swells in from the deep sea. [69] TIDE And yet the ocean s dreaded powers, Must keep appointed bounds and hours, And day by day, and night and noon, The sea is guided by the moon. The pallid moon, far, far away, Holds the great ocean in her sway. Relentlessly, relentlessly She draws the waters of the sea. [70] CARPENTERIA Above the rosy crescent beach The purple mountains rise, A sharply jagged silhouette, Against the salmon skies. The green waves break in violet Upon the rosy sand, And one last winged wanderer Seeks shelter on the land. BAKER S BEACH Still the mighty waves strike dashing As of old, upon the sand, Wildly lashing, fiercely crashing In their war against the land. With the wind s great force above them, And the current s force below, Still they scourge the reefs and ledges, Strive to bring the great cliffs low. [72] THE CROSSING In the calm of a rosy afternoon The dimpling channel lay, And the French shore faded all too soon, With the roof-tops of Calais. For I left my heart in that sunny land And it broke when I went away! [731 THOUGHTS [7Sl SNOW How beautifully snow fell to-day, On Stillwood s little hill, How indistinct the pasture lay How far, and faint and still. Here on the slimy city street, Where car and truck and motor meet, Snow only falls to wet our feet. It only falls to wet our feet, And to impede the way, Break wheels, and springs, and muddle things As long as it shall stay. I wonder as I walk to-night, And watch the city s dismal plight, How anything in town stays white ? WITH A PIPE When the fireside seat is sought And the blue fumes, fragrance fraught Slowly rise, May the giver s face be brought To thine eyes. [781 PARK AVENUE ToF. W. R. Crash and clatter, rattle and roar Trains dash rumbling by my door, Under the windows but hid from view, By the lilac shrubs on the avenue. I hear them pass and I know they go Out from the bondage of ice and snow Out towards the sunset s dying glow. I am glad that the long tracks are hid from view That lead to you! [79] LINES I used to love the joyous cry, The eager word, the swift embrace, The gay responsive smile that flew Like sunshine o er the face. But one long glance of thy calm eyes, Such soundless depth of feeling shows, That knowing thee, I learn to prize The strength beneath repose. [80] DOLORES Not only in her face, Where subtle shadows trace The long hours spent with haunted, sleepless eyes, Nor in her lips set line, Although so sad a sign That in her heart she walks the bridge of sighs. But I have seen her stand, When just her white-gloved hand Lay limp with such despairing lassitude, With hopelessness so drear, I wonder, year by year, How life to one so frail, can be so rude. [81] J. S. You call him great who hear how he has swayed Great forces with the power of his mind. You know the place and riches he has made, And see cold printed pictures of his face; And say, "He has outstripped us in the race, Because he thrust the weaker ones behind," And so with jealousy and smouldering hate, You call him great. But I have seen him in a merry crowd Of laughing children in a village street, Handing them goodies, while they clamored loud For more the panting motor standing by And mothers holding little toddlers high, That their wee hands might have their share of sweet. And he would fill the outstretched fingers, while He watched them with a smile. And I have watched deep lines of pain and care Creep gradually around his weary eyes [82] J. S. Like patient Atlas, when he had to bear The world upon his back, in days of yore, So patiently his weighty tasks he bore, That broke his strength and pulled him where he lies. You call him great ah ! if you understood My father call him good! [83] THE JAPAN SOCIETY EXHIBIT One step from all the bustle of the street, Here in the quiet mete, The ancient treasures glisten in the gloom, Pervading the gray room. The sense of stress the strain, That dulls the heart and dims the brain, Are gone and in their stead, Calm reigns the spirit of an age long dead. The gathered beauty of an Eastern land. Sole witnesses of long-drawn secret toil, Wrapped in gray mystery, here mutely stand, Unearthed so lately from the sheltering soil. Fashioned for Buddhist tomb and Shinto shrine, With such pure zeal and sacrificial care, That still they sanctify the gentile air, Still radiate an atmosphere divine. [84] THE AUCTION In an upper story, at Delmonico s, An auctioneer was selling, Hiroshiges and Kyonagas, Prints delicate and rare, Blue and tan and rose and yellow, Geisha girls and Samurai, Through them all the blue sea shining, Or the snowy cone of Fuji, Shell-like against the sky, Ten, ten, ten, ten, ten, ten, ten, ten, Fifteen, twenty going at twenty, Twenty, twenty, for this famous snow-scene, Twenty-five, thirty, for this Hiroshige, Forty, forty, going now at forty, Fifty, fifty, fifty, fair warning, fifty, Fifty fifty, sold for fifty dollars! To Mrs. Steele, there, over in the corner. Here s a Kyonaga, now what is your pleasure? Start it at one hundred. This fine print, one hundred, [85] AUCTION Two hundred, three hundred, for this Kyonaga, Four hundred, four hundred, going at four hun dred, Four hundred, four hundred, four hundred and fifty. And at a meeting, just down the street, They could not raise their quota For Hoover s hungry children. "The times, you know. The taxes!" 86] THE COSWAY MINIATURES Morgan Collection Beauties of another day! Prisoned in the jewelled gold, Blossoms of a rare bouquet, Charms that never can grow old, Gathered here in bright array, Tales of loveliness untold ! Dress in eighteen hundred style, Soft curls powdered white and gray, Limpid eyes that still beguile, Hold us in their gentle sway. Ladies, do you slyly smile ? We have lost our hearts to-day! [87] HARVARD CONSERVATORY When cloud - covered heavens are dismal and dreary, Dreary the city below And alien hearts are all homesick and weary, Weary of thawing and snow. How soothing to wander amid these warm bowers, Bowers where summer scents roam, How dear is this haunt of the lost summer flowers, Flowers that blossomed at home! [88] THE STATUE OF THE MINUTE MAN The silent guarding trees alone surround The sacred spot; The growing village nears the holy ground And enters not. There is no inharmonious sign to tell Of modern ways, No jarring note to break the gentle spell Of ancient days. But there beneath the skies that arch above His solitude Still stands the witness of a nation s love And gratitude. FIFTH AVENUE So safe behind the shielding glass, The laughing daffodils beguile Long glances from the crowds that pass, And little pansies smile, While primrose pink and iris blue And sweet mimosa beckon you, Although the parks are bare and brown, It s springtime on the avenue. The merry morning sunbeams stream On brim of straw and flowered crown, And in the window yonder, gleam White parasol, and filmy gown, While with his globes red, green and blue, The swart balloon man strides in view, Although the parks are bare and brown, It s springtime on the avenue. [90] BOYLSTON STREET The Old South spire is purple On a heaven of flaming gold, For the sun has sunk in the Fenway mist And the river wind blows cold. The paths of the common grow crowded, With shoppers hurrying home; And the shadow crawls Up the old brick walls Till it reaches the State House Dome. WESTMINSTER CHIMES One more hour dies, We toll its knell, The next one flies Oh! use it well! [92] SUNSET HYMN (Air Seymour) No roof shuts us from Thy sky, Lord God of the open air! All Thy breezes passing by, Blow upon our foreheads bare. As Thy manna fell of old, On the grass Thy fresh dews fall, And the sunset s red and gold Sheds Thy glory over all. Here, before the daylight dies, Heart and voice we raise to Thee, From Thy vast and tranquil skies Send us Thy tranquillity. [93] CREDO For those who can believe it, Escaped from creeds outworn, In every new born baby A son of God is born. [94] COMMUNION HYMN Air, St. Louis How near He comes, how near He comes, How near to us to-day, The Presence veiled, the mystery, The Being far away. As cloud enfolds the mountain, As fog clings to the sea Far, far more near, He enters here, Is one with you and me. Down through the thronging ages, From the legend-shrouded past, From heart of man, to heart of man, He comes to us at last. The bread once broken for us, In far-off Palestine, Still feeds the soul, and makes it whole Your hunger heals and mine. [95] COMMUNION HYMN The lonely man of sorrows, Who suffered long ago, Must suffer still, and ever will, While human currents flow. How near He comes, how near He comes, How near to us to-day, To fold us in, from every sin, And make us His alway. 196] THE VISITOR If Jesus came to earth to-day, Where would he go, and what would he say? Would he go to the city temples tall, And worship in Mammon s gilded hall? Or to the country churches white, Where petty privilege plots with spite ? If Jesus came to earth to-day, Where would he go? What would he say? Perhaps he silently would go, And slip back in some darkest row, Among the constant hearted poor, And they would feel his presence pure, And the vestry in the foremost pews, The sight of that dear Guest would lose. l97l CHRISTMAS EVE What matters it, if angels sang The night that Christ was born, Or if only the night wind swelled and sighed Round the stable eaves forlorn ? The night wind is the voice of God, As much as an angel s horn. What if the Star of Bethlehem That shone so far, so bright Were only the star of eventide That shines on us every night? Each shining star is God s own sign Who made the dark and the light. What matters it, if the sweet Babe came By miracle from on high, Or child of woman and of man, Just as you and I ? The wonder was the life He led, And the death that He did die. [931 ENVOI Although I hold from thee no winged lyre, With which to sing thy praise, fair Poetry, Though, when thy beauty touches me with fire, Still am I silent, dumb in ecstasy. Though I can hear thy rhythms in the wind, And see thee in the river s curving flow, And yet the earnest effort of my mind But offers metres faltering and slow. Still do I lend my life to thy high ways, For thee I tend the rose beside my door, That fills with graciousness the summer days, And, drawing deep, from thine own treasured store, I show my children all thy lyric joys, That while their bodies strong and lissome grow, Their hearts may feel thy movements and thy poise, And in their eyes, thy mirrored beauties glow, Though to the world no silver song I give, Still day by day, my poetry I live. [99] UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. JJUSh Form L9-40m-7, 56(C790s4)444 THE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGKLES A 001247391 4