GIFT OF R1ST : By LJtLIA] f cerning the real writing game. He is one who knows and does. April 22 Mrs. Lillian Amber Hunt, teacher, poet and dramatic critic, will give another of her interesting addresses. Mrs. Hunt recently published a book of poems entitled "Arista," and is now teaching short-story writing at 506 \Yestern Mutual Life BuiMing under the Southwest School of Industrial Arts. ARISTA and Other Po ems BY LILLIAN AMBER HUNT J. F. ROWNY PRESS Los Angeles 1921 * ffi m fi Copyright, 1921 LILLIAN AMBER HUNT Los Ageles, Cal. To My Mother 469865 ARISTA AR up in Heaven shone a golden star. There, with flaming lamp in hand, Arista stood, and, gazing down, She saw the stars a band That whirled along their shining path For numbers as the sand. Six lamps there were, besides the lamp Arista s Lamp of Love. Five lamps there were, all trimmed and bright, Burning starry flames above, By five young maidens, each as fair And gentle as a dove. The names of these five burning lamps Were Truth (which all did prize), While Devotion with Humility And Power with Beauty vies. The other lamp, the lamp unlit, Was the Lamp of Sacrifice. So long had she tended the Lamp of Love, So long kept up its flame, She had become a part of Love Of its heart of hearts she came, And longed to give all of herself To express Love s very name. [5] [ARISTA and other Poems} One cold, dark star that feebly shone Seemed of so little worth, Her six companion maidens spoke Of it in jest and mirth. But Arista, with her Lamp of Love, Did care for this cold Earth. And as she looked down to the Earth Her heart within did burn To help this cold, unlighted shell ; For this her heart did yearn, That of its race could one be found, One that of her could learn. She saw a poet on the Earth Whose songs were called sublime. He had the poet s gift of song, The faculty divine; But the poet s vision was denied, His message was but rhyme. "He has from the vision turned aside/ She said, her heart aflame, "And needs at once the help of heaven To show the way I came. He thinks not of the song he sings, He thinks of wealth and fame." Said the Lord Watcher of the Skies : "Were he the vision given, No earthly goal of wealth or fame Could blind that inner vision. No power could make the poet tme E er lose his dream of Heaven. [6] [ARISTA and other Poems} The Lamp of Wisdom is the source, The light of inspiration, To the soul that s kindled by that spark Is the poet s vision given. He has no need for help on Earth, Nor would he look to Heaven." "O grant me, Lord, the Lamp of Love, O Watcher of the Skies, That I may light the way on Earth To him whose thoughts do rise." But the Lord did gently shake his head "Not Love, but Sacrifice." Said the Lord Watcher of the Skies, Who does the Lamp of Wisdom tend, "Know ye that he, the Lord of Life, Has no beginning and no end. And never does he break his laws And never does he bend. Remember that the Soul Which goes back to Earth s grime, Must put itself in earthly guise And back to Heaven cHmb. Be subject to Earth s fettering laws The laws of Space and Time." Then the Lord Watcher of the Skies Who does the Lamp of Wisdom tend, Did day by day give her his help, Did her of his wisdom send. And thus inspired she writes her songs The songs by Wisdom penned. [7] [ARISTA and other Poems] THE SPIRIT OF THE WIND SPIRIT of the Wind, strong and free. Spirit of the Wind, mad and free. Spirit of the Wind, wild and free. Spirit of the Wind, sad and free. Spirit of the Wind, mild and free. Spirit of the Wind, glad and free. Give me of thy Spirit, Wind, As round the world ye blow; Give me of thy power to move Forever to and fro, to and fro. Let me break these bonds, These chains that keep me tied ; Whose iron links are wrought By Duty, Fear and Pride. Give me of thy Spirit, Wind, Give me of thy power. Give me of thy Spirit, Wind ; Give me of thy strength and will ; These shackles let me break; These shackles : Time and Place. Let me o er creation rove, To the uttermost bounds of space. Let me follow the comet s path, Let me take a place with the stars; Let me look back on Earth, And know that I am free, Forever free like thee, Forever free like thee. [8] [ARISTA and other Poems] Take me with thee, O Spirit of the Wind. Take me with thee on the tempest s back, Take me with thee on the lightning s track, Take me with thee where storm clouds rack, And ruin is in thy wake. The breath of the hurricane let me breathe, Let the whirlwind by my spiral sheathe, As I stir the sea to the depths beneath, Where thundering waters break. There with thy fearful strength and power, In cold and fog and mist and shower, I battle with crags and cliffs that tower O er the deeps the waters make. There with the thundering, thundering waves, There with the pounding, pounding waves, There with the booming, booming waves, There with the waves I ll be Strong and free, like thee, Strong and free, like thee. Mad and free, like thee, Mad and free, like thee. There let me be, O Spirit of the Wind, There let me be, Strong and free like thee, Strong and free, Mad and free like thee, Mad and free. Take me with the, O Spirit of the \Vind, Take me with thee, and let me be Wild and free, like thee, Wild and free. Take me to the wild mountain height, Take me where foot of man has never been, Take me where lie the un warmed snows That coldly touch on Heaven s rim. [ARISTA and other Poems] There let me be wild and free, Wild and free like thee. Wild and free, Wild and free. There let me whirl and rage like thee, There let me shriek and groan like thee, Wild and free, like thee, Wild and free. And as I gather strength and rage, Let me the furious battle wage, That the earth has fought from age to age, Till the mountains tremble in their place. Until with scream and crash and roar Down their granite sides I make a floor, A path for the avalanche. And as my fearful path I trace, The path of the avalanche, There let me scream and roar and crash, There let me tear and rend and gash, Over all let the lightnings flash, As on that fearful path I dash, The path of the avalanche. And as I go with crash and roar, And ice and snow and stones I pour On the plain below as sand on the shore, Wild will I scream, Scream o er and o er, In my rage I ll scream As down I roar, In the path of the avalanche. Wild and free, like thee, Wild and free, Wild and free. [10] [ARISTA and other Poems] Then when my rage is filled, Then I can rest, In a lowland valley, I can rest. In a lowland valley, I can rest. There let me be, O Spirit of the Wind, There let me be, Sad and free like thee, Sad and free, Sad and free. There let me be, O Spirit of the Wind, Mild and free like thee. Mild and free, Mild and free. Make me a zephyr, that I may play With the wildflowers and honeybees there all day. Make me to whisper low and sweet, Make me to murmur in the brooklet s song, Make me to croon in the mother s song, Make me to sigh in the evening breeze, Make me to whisper in the murmuring trees, Make me to wander where darkness flees From the first white shafts of dawn. And there in the sunshine I will be Light as the sunshine, light and free. There with the birds all day I ll soar, There will I whisper o er and o er, The song I have learned of thee. The song I have learned of thee. Glad and free like thee, Glad and free like thee. Glad and free, Glad and free. [ARISTA and other Poems ] THE FAIRY DANCE lightly, tripping lightly, Tripping o er the green. In the moonlight shining brightly, Fairy forms are seen. Now they hover o er the flowers Like bees without a sting; Xow they seek the cool leaf bowers, Now they ve taken wing. Flying softly, flying softly, Back they come again. P>reathe thou softly, oh, so softly, Or they ll fly again. Tripping lightly, tripping lightly, Dance the fairies on the green. In the moonlight shining brightly, To mortal eyes unseen. [Presented by the pupils of Maude B. Fischer at the Ebell Club House, May 16, 1921.] [12] [ARISTA and other Poems ] IN A GREEN OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN IN a green old-fashioned garden By a high hedge walled about With trim, well-kept borders And prim, straight walks Love and I one day did meet. And there Love did come to me With swift-flying, sandaled feet And took my hand and led me To the fountain cool and sweet ; And there he sat beside me On the high-backed garden seat. And as he bent to kiss me, To claim me for his own, Stern Duty came between us Placed her cold, white fingers on me And there bade Love begone. Long years I toiled for Duty, Toiled hard for daily bread, For a few old shabby garments, And a roof above my head ; And though I tried to love her She was always cold and dread. Though I tired hard to please her, Wore her black tight-fitting gown, When she no more could use me She left me all alone, Alone with no companion But cold Ingratitude. [13] ARISTA and other Poems] I came back to the garden, To the fountain cool and sweet, And again Love stood beside me By the high-backed garden seat, And as he bent to kiss me, To claim me as his own, Ambition . whispered in my ear And bade Love to be gone. And then Ambition led me To the heights where Fame did dwell. There Fame did come to me In her trailing satin gown With a cloak of velvet, silk and fur, On her head a diadem. There Fame did say to me As she laid her hand on mine, "Look not on Love, but follow me." I followed Fame, as a vvill-of-the-wisp, And left Love weeping there. Years passed on and I had Fame And a heart as cold as a stone. I lived alone for the praise of men, But my heart did live alone. And as I looked at my diadem And the trailing costly dress, I thought this is all all I have on earth- My soul I have sold for this. Then Fame did leave me to weep alone. The fickle adoration given by the crowd Went to the next who gave amusement To their fickle, jaded sense. [141 [ARISTA and other Poems} I had served Ambition s schemes And Fame and I did part. And I was left alone, forlorn, Without a friend on earth. In the green old-fashioned garden I walked with weary feet And wandered toward the fountain Where was the garden-seat. Again Love did come to me With his strong protecting arms I laid my head on his shoulder And sighed to be at rest. When Wealth came to our trysting-place And Love in his homely dress Could only stammer as Wealth s cold eye Did break Love s heart and he did fly. Wealth told of all All he could do for me, Of the gems and garments that he could buy Of social prestige, position high, Of a life all free from fear of want, With a future assured of ease, When I demurred and spoke of Love, Wealth said, "Have you not thought What it means to give to your children dear The things that Wealth has brought? Have you the right to keep from them A future all warm and bright ? Would you think that Love can assure you these When he knows not where he has the right Even to earn his daily bread?" Then with Wealth I went mv way. [15] r A R I s T A and other Poems] The costly furs protecting me From sting of winter s cold ; My shimmering silken garments Trailing over marble floors ; The dainty shoes upon my feet ; My filmy laces, rare ; The gems that sparkled on my hands, Around my neck and in my hair, All added to my beauty And told to every eye That Wealth had given to me All all that Wealth could buy. But the jewels sparkling on my brow Was my badge of servitude, Beneath my silken garments Was the gown of servitude. The golden chains about my neck Were chains of slavery. And Wealth s palatial mansion Was my house of slavery. And the ring that Wealth placed on my hand Was a sign of slavery. Years passed on and Wealth had found A younger, fairer face Not marred by signs of bitter tears, But still had youthful grace. Wealth tired of me, as he had tired of those Of those who had gone before. He tired of me as he tired of them And turned me from his door. [16] [A H i s T A and other Poems] All, all alone, without a soul Who cared for or needed me, I walked again in the garden cool And sat on the garden-seat. My shoes were old, my gown was torn, And I laid my drooping head Upon the back of the garden-seat And thought that Love was dead. The sun-dial showed late afternoon, Then the sun did hide its head, As I wept in anguish and bitterness For Youth forever fled, For Beauty, forever fled. Again Love stood beside me And held my drooping head; Not once did he e er chide me But gave me love instead. And there in that old garden Love and I did live again, Did work and watch and tend The flowers within the garden, And there by its sparkling fountain We made our home again. [17] [A B I s T A and other Poems ] LONGING FOR LOVE , ye winds of early morning, Come, all ye winds that blow. On your wings bear ye this warning Wherever ye may go. Look ye well for my true-love, Look well on land and sea. And when ye find my own true-love, Then bring him back to me. The bird that sings in yonder bower Is singing to its mate. The waning moon but marks the hour Before it is too late. But if ye find that love I ve missed, That I must ever loveless be, Blow ye then wher er ye list, But come not back to me. [18] [ARISTA and other Poems] GATHERING FLOWERS THREE little maids on a summer day Were gathering flowers on the lea. Said each little maid, "I will pick the flower, The flower I should love to be." One little maid with a wide, white brow. And a look proud, calm and cool Chose a tall white lily in the oak tree s shade, By the side of a quiet pool. Another with gentle downcast look, And a modest clinging grace, Chose the violet blue in a hidden spot, As it grew in its sheltered place. But the other maid, red of lip and cheek, With eyes cold, large and bright, Chose the flaunting poppy, whose petals red Had fallen e er the night. [Presented by the pupils of Maude B. Fischer at the Easter recital, March 21, 1921.] [19] [ARISTA and other Poems] SPIRIT OF LIGHT GIVE me the gift of song, Spirit of Light. That I may right the wrong, That saddens my sight. Give me the power to sing, As flight is given an angel s wing, Spirit of Light. Give me the gift of song, Spirit of Light. The sun is low, the day is long, Dark is the night. Heavenly voices then shall sing, The song which I to earth shall bring, Spirit of Light. Give me the gift of song, Spirit of Light. Then may I sing to the toiling throng Songs in their night. And as they hear those voices sing, They ll know that light the day will bring, O Spirit of Light. [20] Gaylord Bros. Makers Syracuse, N. Y. PAT. JAN. 21, 1908 YC 1449! 469865 ^ UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY