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 GIFT OF 
 Claris of 18S7 
 
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Cf)e Satire's; Bream 
 
 anb d^tijer ^oems 
 
 BY 
 
 ADDIE L. BALLOU 
 
 PUBLISHED UNDER AUSPICES 
 
 OF I i i\; ; './ {)i' 
 
 
 THE PACIFIC SHORT StORY CLUB;'. ;. i j ;, 
 
 ' ) ' ^ > . , , . . - . • J ', J 'j 1 J ' , 
 
 PRESS OF EATON a CO. 
 SAN JOSE. CAL. 
 
Copyright, 1915, by Addie L. Ballou 
 
AODIE L. BALLOU 
 
(?ff op CkiS of l^i? 
 
The Padre's Dream 
 
 (Canto 1.) ■■• • • • • 
 
 O'er westward bar the day's , slow , tr^il ' 
 
 Ebbs with the tide far out to sea, 
 And drifting clouds, like shifting sail 
 
 Unfurl, and pass athwart the lea ; 
 On purpling skies in crimson fret 
 
 Like Nature's burnished armor-plate, 
 The sun's low disc at last is set 
 
 And sinks beyond the Golden Gate. 
 
 Slow, creeping mists of night arise, 
 
 And glinting stars creep through the haze 
 A Padre shades his eager eyes 
 
 And seaward turns with wistful gaze; 
 While homing birds droop low of wing. 
 
 And waves the wandering curlew toss. 
 O'er rocks where tangled seaweeds cling, 
 
 He notes the fateful albatros. 
 
 And down the shadowy aisle of years 
 
 To woo with retrospective thoughts, 
 A craft of strange device appears 
 
 Bearing the pilgrim Argonauts. 
 Dimly, yet clear of vision, far, 
 
 He sees these spectral shadows pass; 
 Pass, and repass, with sail and spar — 
 
 Beyond the walls of Alcatras. 
 
 93Q840 
 
He sees them pass o'er rocks and shoals 
 
 With hulls that part the russet waves, 
 Bearing the astrals of the souls 
 
 Who sleep in long forgotten graves. 
 And shadowy shapes "twixt sea and sky 
 
 Drift, in on the horizon line, 
 Till anchored in' the bay they lie, — 
 
 The phantom ships of forty-nine. 
 
 O'er mountain range and dimpling stream 
 
 He wanders, down the hill-girt coast. 
 O'er beetling crag with cleft and seam. 
 
 And lingers where he loveth most. 
 The Indian camp-fire burning low 
 
 Curls into smoke and dies away. 
 The bell's low tingles come and go. 
 
 The bells of Mission Monterey. 
 
 The dusky maiden's silken tread 
 
 And contrite sigh, he listening hears, 
 On bended knee, with drooping head, 
 
 With lids a-tremble with their tears, 
 And liooding crimson o'er her cheek. 
 
 With heart o'erwhelmed — to make redress 
 In penitential grief to speak. 
 
 The sin of loving to confess. 
 
 And soft as falls the summer moon, — 
 
 In lullaby presaging rest, 
 He hears the matron soothing croon 
 
 The coddling drinking at her breast. 
 Roft music floods the vibrant strings 
 
 Where sweeps the hand of dark eyed swain. 
 With voice impassioned as he sings 
 
 The songs that lovers sing in Spain. 
 
And yellow o'er voluptuous hills 
 
 The silken poppy's oriflamme 
 O'er manteling lies ; the landscape fills 
 
 With hurnished gold, and sweet and calm, 
 Secure and blest on every hand. 
 
 And herds untrammelled, wild, increase, — 
 And rude adobes dot the land ; 
 
 Primeval all, with plenteous peace. 
 
 And wanton childhood free from care, 
 
 Lays its soft cheek and dimple down. 
 Beside the seashell pink and rare, 
 
 To sleep on sand-dunes bare and brown. 
 While mellowing o'er the vast expanse 
 
 The day slips down with ebbing tide, 
 While specters of the past entrance 
 
 And that lone figure walk beside. 
 
 (Canto 2.) 
 
 From Shasta's everlasting snows, 
 
 And many a mountain spring unseen. 
 The broadening Sacramento flows, — 
 
 Girdling its yellow banks between. 
 A toiler bending o'er its ledge 
 
 Startles, with wide eyes to behold 
 A flood-worn pebble at its edge ; 
 
 Eureka ! it is seamed with gold. 
 
 And to the sanguine metal's lure 
 
 Men hasten from the tranquil east; 
 Famine, and thirst, and drouth endure, — 
 
 Winds the long train of man and beast 
 Acrost the vast unpeopled land. 
 
 And plains of parching alkali, — 
 And hot, unwatered stretch of sand, 
 
 And toilsome mountain reaches, — high. 
 
Oft lured to cool and wooded lakes, 
 
 The fateful mirage leads astray; 
 The goaded beast — nor effort makes, 
 
 Falls gaunt, to perish by the way. 
 Like demons from a lurid hell, 
 
 The painted savage of the wild ' 
 Swoops down with fire, and maddening yell, 
 
 Nor spares he beast, or man, or child. 
 
 Or freezing in the mountain snows, 
 
 Or fever famished on the plain, 
 Pursued by wild and treacherous foes. 
 
 Within Death's Valley to be slain. 
 And still they press with westward feet ; 
 
 White, bleaching bones no terrors hold ; — 
 Death's caravan makes no retreat 
 
 When its enticing gain is gold. 
 
 The Star of Empire leads them on 
 
 To front all hazards without fears, 
 Shaping a destiny their own, — 
 
 The western pilgrim pioneers. 
 And in their wild nomadic life 
 
 Bearded, untempered, in the rough, — 
 Foreswearing home, and child, and wife. 
 
 Ox-like, acquiring sterner stuff. 
 
 Foreswearing all to delve and moil, — 
 
 With deartli of woman's tenderness, — 
 W^ith hope surmounting rigid toil, 
 
 A loftier manhood in duress. 
 Immured, yet close to Nature's breast, 
 
 Forgetting many a gentler grace ; 
 To forge from evils when repressed 
 
 The sinews of a newer race. 
 
To toil and moil with pick and pan, — 
 
 And crushing mill, and sluices run, — 
 Till greater than the dreams of man 
 
 The guerdon of his hopes, is won. 
 Till satiate; greed for gold is spent, — 
 
 And filled with civic enterprise, — 
 And yearning for home's svreet content; 
 
 And church, and schools and homes arise. 
 
 And cities quickly spring and thrive 
 
 Where yesterday was wilderness ; 
 And men for civic honors strive 
 
 With pen, and speech, and printing press. 
 And commerce spreads her swelling sails,- 
 
 And ships go east, and ships go west,- 
 For gold is gold, — when all else fails, 
 
 And man its servitor at best. 
 
 Where on the frenized ear of night 
 
 Howled the coyote, in quest of prey. 
 Or bellowing buffalo's herded Ihght 
 
 Swept unrestrained for miles away, 
 To span with gyves and bands of steel, 
 
 The stalwart western sons aspire, 
 And seek with pride and ardent zeal, 
 
 A golden statehood to acquire. 
 
 The knotted years with devious deeds, 
 
 Trail up the past in grand review ; 
 And one by one like rosaried beads 
 
 The fabric of his dream slip through. 
 Or rocket star shoots from its rest 
 
 To flash a moment and expire, 
 These raptures in the Padre's breast 
 
 Wake and exalt, and then expire. 
 
(Canto 3.) 
 
 Then o'er the crested mountain hight 
 
 That rives between the east and west, 
 A cloud uprose like mirk of night, 
 
 Portending" strife, and wikl unrest, — 
 And threat of rupture and dissent 
 
 And rumbHngs of discordant war, 
 By souls misled with ill intent 
 
 To rend the nation, star from star. 
 
 And wilder still their rancor grows, — 
 
 And cannons shriek as Sumpter falls ; 
 And men to arms to meet their foes — 
 
 Three hundred thousand Lincoln calls. 
 And foot to foot and face to face, — 
 
 The flower, — the noblest in the land, 
 The cherished idols of our race, — 
 
 Brothers, — yet foes, for battles planned. 
 
 Three hundred thousand march away ; 
 
 Ten thousand homes made desolate, — 
 Three hundred thousand women pray 
 
 And weep betimes, and watch and wait. 
 Three hundred thousand wearing blue. 
 
 The grey as many more in train, — 
 Each to his own as brave and true, — 
 
 Each by the other to be slain. 
 
 And then the clash and blare of guns ; 
 
 Hell thundered forth its deadliest fire ; 
 Congealing crimson's deluge runs, — 
 
 Men turned to demons racked with ire. 
 Oh, northland stern, or. southland dear. 
 
 Mistaken, yet beloved the same ; 
 Blest and united many a year, — 
 
 Bleeding and torn in Freedom's name. 
 
As Greek meets Greek on bloody field 
 
 Those sons of revolution's sires 
 Were met to die, but not to yield 
 
 Till death should quench their vital fires. 
 Like shambled slaughter where they bled, 
 
 With war's dread eagle shrieking o'er, — 
 With shredded banners overhead, — 
 
 Ten hundred thousand rallying more. 
 
 God ! how the leaden missies rain ; — 
 
 God, the mad shriek of bursting shell ! 
 Red run the rivers to the main. 
 
 Tinged with their sacred blood, who fell. 
 Oh, Pitying Christ! must such woe come? 
 
 Must death and mourning sit within 
 The sacred portals of the home, 
 
 To shrive a nation's scarlet sin? 
 
 And patriot woman's pitying hand- 
 War's wounds and fevers to assuage, 
 
 Like angels o'er the stricken land 
 
 Write a rich record on historic page. 
 
 While men will war must woman weep ; — 
 Hers is the heritage of woe 
 
 The nation yields, for those who sleep 
 Unwaking, where grave-grasses grow. 
 
 Man seeks for glory, woman peace ; 
 
 She is the reflex, he the star. 
 Light of his light, nor vigils cease, 
 
 While he pursues the arts of war. 
 Woman must needs-be rear her son 
 
 A warrior, to be slain, or sung; 
 Begot in turmoil, when her travail's done, 
 
 Perhaps a murderer, to be hung. 
 
Anon the gallant golden west 
 
 Her quota of brave men enrolled, — 
 Flung out her banner with the rest, 
 
 Unstinted gave her tons of gold. 
 None faltered in a cause like this. 
 
 But gold was cheap and men were dear, — 
 Her loyalty was not remiss, 
 
 Such as she had to volunteer. 
 
 Then one uprose with chastening hand, — 
 
 With pen of fire, and like a God, — 
 Wrote,— "From henceforth. Oh, southern 
 land ! 
 
 No blood of slave shall dye thy sod. 
 Henceforth that name I do erase ; 
 
 The sale of souk no more shall be. 
 For slave I will a man replace, 
 
 My husky people shall be free." 
 
 Oh, rich plantations devastate. 
 
 And cities laid in ruins low ! 
 And homes by death made desolate. 
 
 Yours was a stricken nation's blow ; 
 With one tremendous battlefield, — 
 
 Honored, though vanquished, and to cease 
 All further strife, at last to yield 
 
 A fallen army, and to sue for peace. 
 
 (Canto 4.) 
 HUSH!! to the roll of muffled drum,— 
 
 With arms reversed, — the martial tread, — 
 All honored him. — now speechless, dumb, — 
 
 Loved, and lament a Lincoln, dead ! 
 "With malice toward none," his creed, 
 
 "And charity to all," and then 
 Crown with a glory his great deed. 
 
 To sleep with those who died for men. 
 
The Padre bent with reverent bow, 
 
 That saintly man from sin immure, — 
 A shadow deepening o'er his brow, 
 
 As passing- clouds the moon obscure. 
 And in the attitude of prayer 
 
 He knelt him on a mound of moss, 
 With finger on his breast laid bare, 
 
 He traced the signet of the cross. 
 
 (Canto 5.) 
 
 Peace follows after strife, and men 
 
 Turn to pursue her gentler ways, 
 O'er the wrecked wastes to build again. 
 
 Condone the idle with industrial days : 
 And till the soil, and plant the grain, 
 
 Fill up the mills, and bridges build; 
 And ladened ships to cross the main, 
 
 With products of his toil are filled. 
 
 Fecund the matrix of the west, — 
 
 Rich with her saps before untried. 
 Yields by the plowshare rude caressed 
 
 Flushed with her ardor undenied. 
 Blood of the grape by winepress wrung, — 
 
 Apples of gold from orange grove, — 
 Oil of olives, her sweets among, — 
 
 Silks from her veins in fabrics wove. 
 
 Coal and oil from her riven breast, — 
 
 Choicest marble, and onyx rare, — 
 Under the turf no foot had pressed, — 
 
 Now to be hewn with skill and care. 
 Her ships of commerce span the seas,— 
 
 And red her founderies fuse the ores. 
 And mint her gold, and every breeze 
 
 Sends ladened treasures from her shores. 
 
The tall sequoyas towering high, 
 
 Monster, majestic, forest king, 
 Flirt with the stars, the storms defy, 
 
 Darkly their shade o'er the mountains fling, 
 And giant trees for builder falls. 
 
 And great ships build for war's defense, — 
 And palaces, and stately halls, 
 
 And citadels, grand and immense. 
 
 '■> t>' 
 
 Her colleges of learning rare, 
 
 Send lettered pupils o'er the land, — 
 And masters in the arts prepare — 
 
 Scuptors and painters deft of hand ; 
 Her galleried arts the world defy, — 
 
 And monuments of chiseled art — 
 And architectural wonders high. 
 
 Their strength of dignity impart. 
 
 So thrived at last the golden west, — 
 
 Land by the padres first acquired, 
 And prospered, and in all things blest, 
 
 Crad'ling at last all things desired. 
 A smile lit up that reverent face. 
 
 Where only kindly traces dwell, 
 As dawn o'er darkness steals apace. 
 
 He murmured gently, "All is well." 
 
 Oh, Cuba ! fairest island gem, 
 
 Born of the land of Isabel ; 
 How could you in that hour condemn 
 
 And strike the blow, — your own death 
 knell? 
 So rich, so beautiful, so fair, — 
 
 Mi patria carida, child of Spain, 
 So false, so treacherous, unaware, — 
 
 So cruellv to sink the Maine? 
 
O, wanton, wayward, pampered isle, — 
 
 What mock conceit of human laws 
 Your vanity could so beguile 
 
 Your entrance to the Lion's jaws? 
 What pertinence within your veins, 
 
 Ran riot with unwitting wine, — 
 To so forget who holds the reins 
 
 Where freedom's stars above them shine? 
 
 You should have known, — you should have 
 known, 
 
 What recompense from you was due — 
 Full pay for every dying groan 
 
 You wrung from those who wore the blue. 
 You thought to thrust a bleeding blade 
 
 Or flash a torch with midnight flame. 
 A pastime, for a light crusade. 
 
 And easy honors to your name. 
 
 Quick to avenge her slaughtered dead. 
 
 When thundered forth that blast of war, 
 A nation's armies rose and spread 
 
 O'er seas to other isles afar. 
 While thus, the Padre's painful muse 
 
 Smote anguish deep within his breast, 
 As autumn leaves the zephyr strews, 
 
 Were armies moving toward the west. 
 
 And staunch, and young, and lithe of limb, 
 
 The blossoming of every State, 
 Unfearing dangers gaunt or grim, 
 
 To Iialt beside the Golden Gate. 
 And shimmering on the restive night. 
 
 Like flecks of newdy fallen snow, 
 A thousand tents are gleaming white, 
 
 Within the walled Presidio. 
 
And here upon united field 
 
 Are met the sons whose sires were foes ; 
 All to defend the nation's shield, 
 
 A common menace to oppose. 
 Here are they met, but to agree ; 
 
 And on the same sward's livid green, 
 From Oregon, or Tennessee. 
 
 Press to their lips the same canteen. 
 
 Above the past Peace spreads her wing, 
 
 And south is north and north is south,— 
 No more shall rancorous venom sting, — 
 
 Together face the cannon's mouth. 
 Between them, these in trappings bright, 
 
 Sons of emancipated slaves, 
 A riven country re-unite, 
 
 And over all one banner waves. 
 
 Transported to the Orient, 
 
 And filled with patriotic zeal, 
 And all on certain conquest bent, 
 
 A country's wrong to right and heal. 
 Wide are her gates for all oppressed 
 
 Who respite seek from alien shore ; 
 Beware, to him of treacherous breast, — 
 
 Hands off God's country, evermore. 
 
 And Dewey in Manila Bay, 
 
 With bursting shell and leaden rain. 
 Proclaimed with victory that day, 
 
 That they remembered well the 3>Iaine. 
 With Cuba vanquished in the east. 
 
 And Aguinaldo's forces checked 
 Again war's clamorings had ceased. 
 
 Triumphant arms the flag protect. 
 
\ 
 
 A cavalcade of marching feet 
 
 Through archways marvelous and grand. 
 Down San Francisco's flower-strewn street, 
 
 And martial strains from brazen band; 
 A blaze of glory flaming bright 
 
 From harbor to the city's dome, — 
 Electric splendors crowned the night, 
 
 Columbia's boys to welcome home. 
 
 The Padre's face with pleasure flushed 
 
 And whispering to himself, aside. 
 While yet about him all was hushed, 
 
 "Peace to the living hence abide ; 
 "Peace to the dead whate'er their creeds," 
 
 Heaven question not too close the brave, 
 In tribute for heroic deeds, 
 
 Strew flowers upon the soldiers' graves. 
 
 (Canto 7.) 
 
 Dawn, from the silken couch of night. 
 
 Stole velvet- footed on her way ; 
 Unsandalled, and enscarfed in light. 
 
 Wooed by the amorous glance of day ; 
 And unrobed slumber, poppy-eyed, 
 
 Loth to unveil her heavy lids, — 
 And loth to turn her dreams aside 
 
 Till full orbed day repose forbids. 
 
 Oppressive stillness chained the air 
 
 Like calm before the dread simoon, — 
 As the red lightning's sudden glare 
 
 Precedes the awful thunder's boom. 
 Earth's frantic breast uprose and fell, 
 
 Her long pent passion fires within ; 
 O'er-flush her veins impatient swell, — 
 
 Her loins with impulse quivering. 
 
Clutched in convulsion's fierce embrace, 
 
 To crush by her unbridled power, — 
 Or half a continent misplace, 
 
 A toppling world within an hour. 
 And crumbling walls with crash and fall 
 
 Hurl hundreds to their awful doom ; 
 And terror seizes them, and appall — 
 
 Enclose them in their living tomb. 
 
 And here a mass of beings hurled, — 
 
 A husband or a wife bereft, 
 And summoned to another world 
 
 One taken, and the other left. 
 Here crushed and mangled sightless eyes, 
 
 And here a child by death caressed, 
 And smiling babe in mute surprise. 
 
 Seeks food at its dead mother's breast. 
 
 And then, a greater horror still, — 
 
 Flamed the red torch of livid fire ; 
 All breasts with frenzied terror thrill, 
 
 As fiercer raged the flames, and higher. 
 And on, and on, as demons flit 
 
 From the red region of the lost. 
 Like a winged dragon from the pit, 
 
 The raging element is tossed. 
 
 ^And night and day, and day and night, 
 N Leaping and lurid onward sped, — 
 And then the crash of dynamite. — 
 
 Like carnival by devils led. 
 A frantic pageant to the hills. 
 
 Anguished too deep for mortal tongue, — 
 Unsheltered, from the night-dew's chills, 
 
 Women in travail cast their young. 
 
Awed into silent, dumb restraint, — 
 
 O'er-looking that vast homeless waste, 
 No sound of murmur or complaint, 
 
 Each sorrow, by the whole effaced. 
 In haste, above that dumb despair, — 
 
 From sister cities far and near, 
 Came answer to that hunger prayer, — 
 
 "You shall not want, be of good cheer."' 
 
 And generous hands o'er land and sea 
 
 PVom every source, gave bounteous store ; 
 Blest may the stintless givers be, — 
 
 Heaven's bounty could not offer more, — 
 Till all the multitude were fed 
 
 Unsparingly, and clothed full well ; 
 P'or the unsheltered, tents were spread, 
 
 And dawning hope their fears dispel. 
 
 Then from the ashes of the old 
 
 Uprose the splendors of the new ; 
 A grander city on his vision rolled 
 
 Transcendant, on the Padre's view. 
 Above the mist and shimmerino- throusfh. 
 
 He saw the spires and turrets rise, 
 And gazing through celestial blue 
 
 Beheld the city of the skies. 
 
 An angel clasped him on his way 
 
 Where mists of earth the heavens meet, 
 And whispered "come, no more delay," 
 
 And loosed the sandals of his feet. 
 And with a smile benign, serene, — 
 
 And shimmering light his brow to crown, — 
 As stars go out, their clouds between. 
 
 Death closed, and kissed his eyelids down. 
 
 {Note. This production zvas read, and met 
 7vith the zvarni approval of "father" Jas. 
 McQitade, of San Francisco, Cal. — The 
 Author.) 
 
Toast and Coffee 
 
 it's been the fashion many a year 
 
 To toast to the other fellow, 
 In many a goblet flowing o'er, 
 
 In vintage rare and mellov/ ; 
 To drink remembrance to the past, — 
 
 In cold, or torrid weather. 
 In other lands, on other seas, — 
 
 When men have chummed together. 
 
 And men of war, — in times of peace, 
 
 Rehearse the oft" told story ; 
 And fill again the old canteen, 
 
 And fling aloft "Old Glory'"; 
 And gallant deeds are ne'er forgot, 
 
 While tenting out together, — 
 And toast again the tie that binds 
 
 A comradeship forever. 
 
 Though brief of speech, or wit, or song, 
 
 My greeting to you, brother, 
 Will sparkle little of the wine, 
 
 I'll toast you in another. 
 I'll pledge the old tin coffee cup 
 
 In all its fragrance steaming. 
 In memory of old campfire days. 
 
 And the dreams we then were dreamins:. 
 
 '&• 
 
 Or meet you in a friendly hand 
 
 Of bridge, or whist, or euchre 
 And toast you always to success, 
 
 A winning card, — and lucre, — 
 In all life's undertakings, "game" ; 
 
 May well earned blessings find you 
 A long and loving aftermath 
 
 With the girl you left behind you. 
 
 A. L. B. for G. H. 
 
Harry's Phone to Papa 
 
 "Hello ! hold the line a minnte, ' 
 
 Some one wants to speak." 
 Then I heard a little fumble 
 Soft as silk, but weak, — 
 "Is you papa ? 
 
 I is Harry, here, — 
 'Cause I wants you, — 
 
 Come home, papa, dear." 
 
 Only just a little toddler 
 Scarce can run alone, — 
 Stirs my heart all in a tumble, — 
 Talking through the phone. 
 'Ts you papa? 
 
 I is Harry, here, — 
 'Cause I wants you, — 
 Come home, papa, dear." 
 
 Gee ! but it is worth a million, — 
 
 Fifty miles away, — 
 Without lisping break or stumble, — 
 Just to hear him say, 
 "Is you papa ? 
 
 I is Harry, here, — 
 'Cause I wants you, — 
 Come home, papa, dear." 
 
 San Francisco, Cal, March 12th, 1907. 
 
Welcome to the Fleet 
 
 From the iner-nionster"s covert lair, — 
 
 Majestic, o'er the vasty deeps, — 
 Borne by the west wind's tangled hair, 
 
 The grand armada onward sweeps. 
 Or whether by the dawn's allure, 
 
 Or sunset's splendors on you wait, — 
 Or sweeping through the night obscure, 
 
 We hail von. from the Golden Gate. • 
 
 With many a banner flung on high. 
 
 Whose stripes the sunset's glory dim, — 
 Whose stars eclipse the midnight's sky. 
 
 While glittering fires our shores berim ; 
 We'll hail with pride our gallant fleet, — 
 
 Our vigilante of the deep ; 
 We'll fling our welcome at your feet. 
 
 And yield our city to your keep. 
 
 To us. 'tis given to guard the land.— 
 
 You to protect the sea's approach, — 
 But all as one, a unit stand 
 
 When foes to freedom dare encroach. 
 We'll greet, and hail with many a cheer 
 
 And echoing- boom from brazen guns, 
 And vie vi^ith each, to make more dear 
 
 Your welcome HOME, Columbia's sons. 
 
Resurrexi 
 
 Because you have striven and stumbled, 
 
 And risen and fallen again; 
 And your spirit is riven and humbled 
 
 And is bowed by the censure of men; 
 
 Because you have erred through temptation ; 
 
 Have trampled the devious way, — 
 No respite have heard to probation, — 
 
 And night has o'ershadowed your day, — 
 
 Because you have sinned, you have sorrowed, 
 And learned through the evil, the true, — 
 
 The angel within you has borrowed 
 A gleam from eternity's blue. 
 
 Because you are you, — do I love you, — 
 
 A spark from infinitude flown ; 
 And my spirit well knew that above you 
 
 The heavens would call to their own. 
 
Aftermath 
 
 Oh, my heart is drear and weary, 
 There's a smother in my breast, 
 
 And my eyes are parched and bleary 
 From their tears so long repressed. 
 
 Oh, my heart is aching — breaking, — 
 Though my lips part with a smile; 
 
 With my neighbor undertaking 
 To be cheerful all the while. 
 
 And my brain reels with the pressure 
 As I scan the ruined waste, 
 
 O'er the miles of smoldering treasure 
 That can never be replaced. 
 
 Of the miles of ash and debris 
 
 Where palatial mansions stood — 
 
 Miles of tangled wires and debris, — 
 Crumbling walls and blackened wood. 
 
 And a fascination binds me 
 
 Like enchantments ne'er forgot, 
 
 While each ruined wall reminds me 
 Of the City that is not. 
 
 Oh, I sickened in the travail 
 
 Of the mothers who gave birth, — 
 
 Through the anguish and the peril. 
 On the bare, unsheltered earth. 
 
Christ was born within a manger. 
 With the wondering soft-eyed kine, 
 
 But these refugees from danger 
 Could no sheltering refuge find. 
 
 There is pathos in the faces 
 
 In that lengthening hunger line ; 
 
 Mingling of a score of races, 
 
 Age and childhood want combine. 
 
 In the column at the station 
 Where relief is meted out, 
 
 Each his turn and measured ration, 
 Young and old take turn about. 
 
 And these tented camps they mind me 
 
 Of those other years ago, 
 When a sterner fate consigned me 
 
 To the mercy of the foe. 
 
 O to hear the church bells ringing 
 In their old and solemn way, — 
 
 And the romping children singing 
 
 Home from school in boisterous play, 
 
 In my dreams I see the City 
 In new splendor rise again ; 
 
 Phoenix like arise completely, 
 Fairest City among men. 
 
 And before my vision holding 
 
 As a panoramic sea, — 
 And a phantom wing unfolding 
 
 Lifts the City vet to be. 
 
In the Gloaming 
 
 I am living alone in Seventy-Town, 
 In the mists of the twilight grey; 
 
 AVith my shaded eyes I am gazing down 
 Where the years have rolled away. 
 
 Far down below lies the dawn of day, 
 
 A child care-free on the sands, 
 With blooms and birds in the sunlight's play, 
 
 And at night my mother's hands. 
 
 There's a rippling brook and a clover bed, 
 And the shade of the apple trees, 
 
 Where I used to drift with the clouds o'er- 
 head 
 To the drone of the bumble-bees. 
 
 There's an emerald isle with its treasure of 
 souls 
 
 A-float on a silvery sea ; 
 And many a wreck on the hidden shoals 
 
 Of the ships that were coming to me. 
 
 There are beautiful songs that are nevermore 
 sung 
 
 That float on the tremulous air ; — 
 And pictures rare on the walls are hung. 
 
 Of the castles that molder there. 
 
 I am standing alone at the outer gate. 
 
 The night dews silver my hair, 
 Still over the years I dream and wait, 
 
 Till they call to me over there. 
 
 For just beyond is a land most fair 
 A-bloom with the flowers of bliss ; 
 
 I soon shall pass — and awaiting me there 
 Are the treasures Fve lost in this. 
 
^'^L /NCRE^Sg ^^E DATE Ou^ rJ° "^""N 
 
 ®^eNTH 
 
 dav 
 
 LD 
 
 21-1 
 
 95rn. 
 
 7, '37 J 
 
Photomount 
 
 Pamphlet 
 
 Binder 
 
 Gaylord Bros., Inc. 
 
 Makers 
 Stockton, Calif. 
 
 PAT. JAN. 21, 1908 
 
 ri- 
 
 930840 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
>^