T ^ 
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE
 
 T^ y 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 au.oa 
 
 P39I 
 OOP- "2>
 
 ST. LOU IS 
 
 BEAUTIFUL ILLINOIS 
 RIVER VALLEY SCENIC 
 ROUTE, STARVED ROCK, 
 GRAND VIEW DRIVE, 
 AND PEORIA'S FAMOUS PARKS
 
 Deirdre 
 
 Through the world lonely, 
 I must be wending 
 Questing with only 
 Beauty the ending: 
 If you would speed me 
 Bravely along 
 Kindly ohe , feed me 
 Morsels of song. 
 
 'Pilgrimage 1
 
 Book of Verse 
 
 Published for 
 THE PEORIA ALLIED ENGLISH INTERESTS 
 
 by 
 
 THE MANUAL e/lRTS PRESS 
 ^Peoria, Illinois
 
 Copyright, 1922 
 
 The Manual e/lrts ^Press 
 
 12<P21
 
 . 'Of 
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 IN THE fall of 1921 a group of men and women in 
 Peoria were considering ways and means of stimulating 
 a wider interest in poetry. This group was known as the 
 Allied English Interests because it had acted as a committee 
 in bringing to Peoria several world-famous poets, and be- 
 cause it was organizing to undertake larger activities in the 
 field of literature. A member of the group suggested that 
 one way of stimulating interest in poetry would be to gather 
 together the best poems that have been written by Peorians, 
 and publish them as a community undertaking. This sug- 
 gestion was approved by the group, and Miss Caroline Rice, 
 head of the English Department of the Peoria High School, 
 chairman of the group, appointed the undersigned committee 
 to carry the suggestion into effect. 
 
 A list was made of residents and former residents of 
 Peoria who were known to have written in verse form. 
 Letters were sent to these, explaining the project and asking 
 each writer to submit from one to six of his poems for the 
 consideration of the committee. The newspapers assisted 
 very cordially, and within a short time about two hundred 
 contributions were in the hands of the committee. All of 
 the contributions were read by each member of the com- 
 mittee, and then a series of committee meetings was held 
 which resulted in eliminating about half of the contributions 
 and expressing unanimous approval of many of the remaining 
 ones. 
 
 Meanwhile, Professor John T. Frederick of the Uni- 
 versity of Iowa, editor and publisher of The Midland, had 
 accepted an invitation to read the poems picked out by the 
 committee and make the final selection for the volume. This 
 
 6i~t*y-i Oft 
 / fJL&&
 
 he did in August, 1922, and his work resulted in the choice 
 of the sixty-four poems which appear in this volume. 
 
 The committee is grateful to all persons who sent con- 
 tributions to those whose poems were not selected as well 
 as to those who were more fortunate. Every contribution 
 helped in carrying forward the committee's work. The com- 
 mittee is grateful, also, to the several persons who assisted 
 in an advisory capacity. And each member of the com- 
 mittee feels personally indebted to Professor Frederick for 
 the special service he rendered in making the final selection 
 and writing the introduction to the volume. 
 
 The drawings for the decoration of the volume were 
 made by Miss Leila M. Thompson of Peoria, and the forms 
 selected were suggested by the modest shingle oak which is 
 one of the characteristic trees found on the hillsides and in 
 the river bottoms around Peoria. 
 
 The Committee, 
 HUGH COOPER, 
 JENNIE M. CONSTANCE, 
 EMILY F. JOHNSON, 
 ELIZABETH V. ROBERTS, 
 CHARLES A. BENNETT, 
 
 Chairman.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Foreword ...................................... 3 
 
 Introduction .................................... 9 
 
 John T. Frederick 
 
 Frontispiece rf/fl M Thompson 
 
 The New Building ............................... 11 
 
 Easter ........................................ 13 
 
 Before Man Was ................................ 14 
 
 Julia Proctor White 
 Santa Claus .................................... 15 
 
 John J. O'Keefe 
 Song of the Steam Shovel ......................... 16 
 
 The Two Gods .................................. 18 
 
 Josephine Bowman Wetzler 
 Five Sonnets ................................... 20 
 
 John Lancaster Spalding 
 The Army of the Grass ........................... 25 
 
 Apple Trees in California ......................... 26 
 
 Across the River, Peoria ........................... 27 
 
 Elizabeth Worthington Denison 
 My Last Cigar .................................. 28 
 
 But! .......................................... 30 
 
 Robert J. Burdette 
 The Birthplace of Burns .......................... 33 
 
 Robert G. Ingersoll 
 On the Heights ...................... . ........... 34 
 
 A Winter Parable ................................ 36 
 
 Julia Harriette Johnston
 
 6 CONTENTS 
 
 Homesick 39 
 
 Ann Callender Bur dick 
 
 Hymn 40 
 
 A Child's Prayer 41 
 
 William Hawley Smith 
 
 Robert Burns 42 
 
 Only Parted 44 
 
 Samuel Patterson Prowse 
 
 Selfishness 45 
 
 George Helgesen Fitch 
 
 Experience 46 
 
 Living Lightly 47 
 
 William James Leach 
 
 A Triad 48 
 
 Ellen Galusha Smith 
 
 Home 50 
 
 At Bedtime 51 
 
 Eugene de'Aguero Brown 
 
 Jazz 52 
 
 Achievement Instinct 54 
 
 Perspective 56 
 
 Arthur Galusha Smith 
 
 Thanksgiving 57 
 
 Florence Jeffers Shearer 
 
 I Must Go Back 58 
 
 /. Merle Stevens 
 
 Sunrise on the Prairie 60 
 
 The Exultant 61 
 
 Katharine Hart
 
 CONTENTS 7 
 
 When Baby Writes 62 
 
 This Day 63 
 
 Claude Holland Gamble 
 
 Little Old House 64 
 
 Rain 65 
 
 W. Kee Maxwell 
 
 Youth 66 
 
 Julia Kempshall Clark 
 
 Unity 68 
 
 Haskell Ready Armstrong 
 My House of Fame 69 
 
 Frances Nancy Martin 
 
 Life's Circle 70 
 
 Doubting Thomas 72 
 
 William Alexander Bone 
 
 The Mutual Friend 75 
 
 Ernest A. Pasquay 
 
 Life's Promise 76 
 
 Bessie Curran Smith 
 
 Westminster Abbey 77 
 
 Ella Beseman 
 
 Justice 78 
 
 Mark Langdon Rowell 
 
 Allegory 80 
 
 Joseph Rowe Binjord, Jr. 
 
 A Romance of the Springtime 81 
 
 Liesel Bewsher 
 
 Oh, What a Day! 82 
 
 Ruth Virginia Gibson
 
 8 CONTENTS 
 
 Even as These 83 
 
 Philip Leigh Gibson 
 Shrine 84 
 
 Helen Ida Morrow 
 
 Friend 86 
 
 Harvey Norman Ringel 
 
 A Busy Corner 87 
 
 Russell Edward McMurray 
 
 Melancholy 88 
 
 Lawrence Willard Cockrell 
 
 Spring 89 
 
 Alsace Moine Crosbie 
 
 The Cliff 90 
 
 Alice Loveridge 
 
 Moonrise on a Misty Evening 91 
 
 Thelma Lorraine Crosbie 
 
 Blossom-Shrine 92 
 
 Camille Mahannah 
 
 Indian Women 93 
 
 From the Desert 94 
 
 Friends 95 
 
 Dorothy Crowder 
 
 Lake Evening 96 
 
 Requiem 97 
 
 Holland DeWitte Roberts 
 
 A Mid-Summer Bonnet 98 
 
 Mary Robinson Gibson 
 
 ###*#### 
 
 Biographical Notes 99
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 BY JOHN T. FREDERICK 
 
 HE Peoria Book of Verse brings together 
 into a single volume the poetic expres- 
 sion of a community from the beginning 
 of its history up to the present time. 
 What the people of one city in the 
 Middle West of America have thought 
 and felt is here set down, in the most adequate terms 
 which have been vouchsafed to those people. 
 
 Rightly, the volume is varied. It includes the 
 poetic expression of many different phases of human 
 experience, interpreted from widely diverging points 
 of view. The comic will be found side by side with 
 the tragic. The validity of the homely expression 
 of humble, everyday experience has been recognized, 
 as well as the significance of the lofty and the elo- 
 quent. Writers among the most distinguished of 
 their time in America, who have made Peoria their 
 home, appear here with others who have remained 
 unknown even in their native city outside a narrow 
 circle. The mature men and women of Peoria to- 
 day contribute, along with those of a past generation, 
 
 9
 
 10 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 and with the younger writers of the city whose highly 
 promising first work appears here. The sum total 
 is a collection which Peorians will read with interest 
 and treasure with pride. 
 
 The thing which Peoria is doing in this book, 
 however, is significant outside the city itself. In past 
 years American cities have sought primarily for ma- 
 terial expression of their civic consciousness. Citi- 
 zens have been content with numbers of population, 
 with tall buildings, with manufactures and commerce 
 as symbols and expressions of their enthusiasm and 
 their faith. But at the present time it is evident that 
 American cities are ceasing to be content with 
 achievements measurable wholly in material terms. 
 The civic pride of American municipalities is begin- 
 ning to find expression in parks and playgrounds, in 
 schools and libraries, in orchestras and art galleries : 
 in the things of the spirit. The present volume serves 
 to unify one city's aspiration and achievement in one 
 of the arts, that of poetry. By its publication Peoria 
 attains a position of leadership among American 
 cities in the vitally important movement toward com- 
 munity consciousness in the arts. 
 
 Glennie, Alcona County, Michigan. 
 September first, 1922.
 
 ' That shining pinnacle
 
 THE NEW BUILDING* 
 JULIA PROCTOR WHITE 
 
 Of cold steel are its bones, and poured stone its 
 
 marrow. 
 
 Hard and unyielding substances provide it form ; 
 Direct and four-square it rises from the earth, 
 Built to endure, prepared for generations yet to 
 
 come, 
 
 A stronghold for the commerce of men's minds. 
 But from its height blossoms a stately flower 
 A lovely, airy thing, half dome, half tower. 
 It was born of dreams, 
 And it shall beget dreams, 
 It has a magic power. 
 
 Who knows how many a child, seeing it rise 
 On the bright splendor of the winter skies, 
 Shall sing with it a triumphant song 
 And find the home to which his thoughts belong; 
 Or when the delicate gray mist of spring 
 Spreads a pale shadow over everything, 
 
 *Peoria Life Insurance Building. 
 11
 
 12 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 How many a watcher on the neighboring hill 
 
 Shall feel his heart suddenly thrill 
 
 And quicken with new fervor 
 
 To see that shape of beauty floating free, 
 
 Like a frail palace risen from a shadowy sea. 
 
 Or who can tell what toiler in the dust and heat 
 
 Shall lift his eyes to meet 
 
 That shining pinnacle; 
 
 And on the instant, free of time and space, 
 
 Feel a cool mountain wind upon his face ! 
 
 It gives forth light 
 
 By day as by night. 
 
 It is a prophecy of cities new and fair, 
 
 Of better, happier times 
 
 When strength shall flower in beauty everywhere.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 EASTER 
 
 JULIA PROCTOR WHITE 
 
 April days have come again; 
 Days of sun and days of rain, 
 Days of wind-swept cloudy weather, 
 Tears and laughter flung together. 
 Everything must bud and blossom, 
 Everything must wake and sing; 
 They that can not will not 
 Have no part in spring. 
 
 April, touch the broken-hearted! 
 
 Lift them from their heavy sleep; 
 
 With tears of joy and solemn laughter 
 
 Make them laugh and make them weep. 
 
 I am one who needs you, April, 
 
 I have heard your call to rise. 
 
 Let me feel your mighty rapture, 
 
 Let me ride your windy skies. 
 
 Flood me with your laughing passion, 
 
 Shake me with your ecstacy, 
 
 Break the cramping shard that binds me, 
 
 Strip my useless grief from me. 
 
 Take me, wake me, make me live ! 
 
 Give me all you have to give. 
 
 Let my stifled heart recapture 
 
 All the glory of the spring, 
 
 Till in one tremendous moment 
 
 I shall blossom, I shall sing.
 
 14 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 BEFORE MAN WAS 
 JULIA PROCTOR WHITE 
 
 I have come far, and I am tired. 
 
 It is good to lie close to the earth, 
 
 In the warm sunshine. 
 
 I do not wish to be disturbed; 
 
 But something calls me. 
 
 It calls me when I am running; 
 
 When I sleep, it wakens me. 
 
 What calls? 
 
 When I look for it, it is gone. 
 
 Nothing could call from within me ! 
 
 Fruits and nuts, earth, even the quick water 
 
 I can touch; 
 
 I hold them in my hands. 
 
 What do I want that I can not touch? 
 
 What calls ?
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 15 
 
 SANTA CLAUS 
 JOHN J. O'KEEFE 
 
 He is the spirit of the mist and snow, 
 
 Who sails through the star-lit air, 
 
 And carries the song of the mistletoe 
 
 To sweethearts everywhere. 
 
 He is the breath of a million pines, 
 
 That glitter in candle-light; 
 
 He is the glow of the lamp that shines 
 
 For the poor on Christmas night. 
 
 He is the magical artisan 
 
 Who fashions a dream from truth, 
 
 The boy that lives in the heart of a man, 
 
 The soul of eternal youth. 
 
 He is the laughter that leads each band 
 
 Of carolers joyously; 
 
 He is the spirit that guides your hand 
 
 When you give sweet charity. 
 
 Oh, you fancy him a fat old squire 
 
 Lugging a bundle of toys, 
 
 But he is the spirit of heart's desire 
 
 And the soul of a thousand joys. 
 
 You'll never find him up in the skies, 
 
 Nor up the chimney flue, 
 
 For he is the spirit of love that lies 
 
 Deep down in the heart of you!
 
 16 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 SONG OF THE STEAM SHOVEL 
 
 JOSEPHINE BOWMAN WETZLER 
 
 I tear at the heart of the sleeping earth, 
 
 I wake the hills with my noisy mirth, 
 
 Through me the dreams of the world have birth. 
 
 I throb with a power beyond the ken 
 
 Of the pigmy strength of your pigmy men, 
 
 Sweating in factory, office, and pen. 
 
 Grunting and swinging, I lay my path ; 
 
 The soft earth sinks 'neath the weight of my wrath; 
 
 The far hills shake to the rock of my laugh. 
 
 Your streams I change to the course you please ; 
 I gut your mountains ; I join your seas ; 
 The smoke of my breath is on every breeze. 
 
 High through the hiss of my mighty steams, 
 Clear through the discordant grunts and screams, 
 Harmony swells, the music of dreams. 
 
 Music of boilers, tested and strong, 
 Iron arms riveted, steady and long, 
 Steaming and dreaming, I sing my song; 
 Hear me, ye idlers, hark to my song ! 
 
 I sing of the men who cut your trails, 
 Who span your rivers and lay your rails, 
 The man who tries and the man who fails.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 17 
 
 I sing of the glory of work well done^ 
 A night's rest earned at the set of sun, 
 A brave thing dared and a good fight won. 
 
 So I sing my song to the men who build, 
 Till the last ditch is dug and the last cut filled, 
 Till my fires are dead and my voice is stilled, 
 
 Till they scrap me for junk and I'm thrown away; 
 
 But I've sung my song and I've had my day, 
 
 And the work of my dreams and my toil will stay!
 
 18 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 THE TWO GODS 
 JOSEPHINE BOWMAN WETZLER 
 
 Sometimes I pray to a little God 
 
 Who makes His home within 
 The narrow walls of my own heart, 
 
 So filled with selfish sin. 
 
 And to this God I send such prayers 
 
 As, "Help my man get work," 
 And "Help us send the boys through school,' 
 
 "Let none our duty shirk," 
 
 "Help Johnnie get his tonsils out, 
 
 And, God, sir, I'd be glad 
 If you would bless the garden truck 
 
 Put in this spring by Dad." 
 
 But to the other God, my prayers 
 
 Must stronger be and higher; 
 He could not hear the whispered words 
 
 Of selfish heart's desire. 
 
 This other God is not just mine; 
 
 He rules a larger sphere, 
 And to the voices of all worlds 
 
 He bends a list'ning ear. 
 
 "Oh, God of law and love," I pray, 
 
 Infinite of time and space, 
 Hide not from this, Thy foolish world, 
 
 The glory of Thy face.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 19 
 
 "Send faith as Thou doth send the rain, 
 
 To ease a fevered earth, 
 That man may bear the wracking pain 
 
 Of spiritual rebirth." 
 
 Sometimes I wonder if my prayers 
 The mighty and the small, 
 
 Don't reach the self-same ear at last 
 And one God hears them all.
 
 20 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 FIVE SONNETS 
 JOHN LANCASTER SPALDING 
 
 I 
 
 Free men alone are they who do the right, 
 For liberty obedience is to law; 
 And they who from this service sweet withdraw 
 Are made the slaves of a stern tyrant's might. 
 
 To serve within our place and in God's sight, 
 To keep our lives unstained and without flaw, 
 To walk in humbleness and holy awe 
 Is to be clothed with freedom as with light. 
 
 The truth, the blessed Saviour said, makes free, 
 And they who do the right, the truth shall know, 
 And only they are sons of liberty. 
 No laws of men the heavenly gift bestow; 
 The soul is freedom's fort by God's decree, 
 Which naught but our own deeds can overthrow. 
 
 From The Poets Praise 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS. 1887
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 21 
 
 II 
 
 As one who looks on boundless waste of snow, 
 When all the world is white, and through the sky 
 The drifting flakes in blinding currents fly, 
 Up-caught by winds that eddy to and fro, 
 
 And piled in drifts that ever higher grow, 
 Until all things far as can reach the eye 
 In one great winding-sheet deep buried lie, 
 Sees with glad heart, afar his hearth fire glow, 
 
 Conscious of the warm love that nestles there; 
 
 So human souls, looking on wintry space, 
 
 And chilled by fickle blasts of time, turn where, 
 
 Through all the dark and doubt and woe, God's face 
 
 Appears eternal, patient, and all fair, 
 
 Though in the gloom, His form they dimly trace. 
 
 From God and the Soul 
 THE GRAFTON PRESS
 
 22 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 III 
 
 Oh, woman, shut within the narrow bound 
 Of household duties and of petty cares, 
 The slave of little thoughts and small affairs, 
 Who in thy treadmill walkest daily round, 
 
 To thee the poet comes with blessing crowned, 
 And builds for thy sore feet the golden stairs 
 Which upward lead away from all despairs 
 To the pure heaven where God and love are found. 
 
 Oh, love him well; like thee he sorrow knows 
 And wrongs, to gentle hearts most hard to bear; 
 Like thee he yearns for worlds where love o'erflows 
 And works for men who reck not of his care; 
 Like thee, upborne by love, he onward goes, 
 Singing his tender thought to some sweet air. 
 
 From The Poet's Praise
 
 23 
 
 It may be none will read the rhymes I write; 
 
 Much better verse has had no better fate, 
 
 And truest poetry has oft to wait 
 The poet's death ere it may claim its right. 
 
 I need not gold and find enough delight 
 In quiet walks where sings a muse sedate; 
 My task at least is harmless, if not great; 
 
 I am content without a proselyte. 
 
 Yet in these songs there may be found a note 
 Which to some dolorous heart will solace bring, 
 
 A tone with which high hope will blend and float, 
 A line to which some memory will cling. 
 
 And therefore to their fate I them devote, 
 
 Like seed sown in the shifting winds of spring. 
 
 From God and the Soul
 
 24 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 V 
 
 When shall the poet come, whose thrilling song 
 Shall sound like voice of God on earth again, 
 And lift all hearts from selfish joy and pain 
 To that pure region where all souls belong; 
 
 To faith and hope and love, with purpose strong 
 To do the right, nor seek a richer gain; 
 To serve, be helpful, just, and so to reign, 
 Since they are more than kings who war on wrong? 
 
 The world is listening now if it may hear 
 That science, love, religion, all agree, 
 And with one voice proclaim that God is near; 
 That what true men have hoped for yet shall be, 
 That ways we walk in shall grow broad and clear, 
 Until the struggle cease and all are free. 
 
 From The Poefs Praise 

 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 25 
 
 THE ARMY OF THE GRASS 
 
 ELIZABETH WORTHINGTON DENISON 
 
 The slender lances pierce the mould 
 With not a hint of sound; 
 The eager scouts run here and there 
 On royal business bound. 
 
 Then, in a night, the hosts appear, 
 With emerald banners furled, 
 And silently proclaim their right 
 To occupy the world.
 
 26 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 APPLE TREES IN CALIFORNIA 
 ELIZABETH WORTHINGTON DENISON 
 
 They stand amid the blossoming orange trees, 
 With deep Italian skies and balmy air, 
 With light and warmth and color everywhere, 
 And opulent soil enriched through centuries. 
 
 All nature woos and smiles and fain wound bless. 
 Shall not the sweetness of her magic stir 
 Their calmer, northern blood to worship her, 
 Requiting with swift bloom her tenderness? 
 
 Nay, look upon their leafless, silent boughs 
 Clad in a patient loyalty sublime. 
 No passionate call their tranquil blood can rouse; 
 'Tis winter yet in their far distant clime. 
 Give me the gift that their dumb life endows. 
 Give me the faith to trust my own springtime.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 27 
 
 ACROSS THE RIVER, PEORIA 
 
 ELIZABETH WORTHINGTON DENISON 
 
 A dull and grimy street 
 Where heavy foot-falls beat 
 
 Day after weary day 
 
 With naught of glad or gay, 
 Save in the blue above, 
 To show that life is Love, 
 
 A monotone unblest, 
 
 A problem still unguessed. 
 
 But as I plod along, 
 
 One with the toiling throng, 
 
 I cross a thoroughfare 
 
 And see before me there 
 Beyond the far street line* 
 A vision fair and fine 
 
 Of river, wood, and sky, 
 
 The heart to satisfy. 
 
 So, as the spirit fares 
 
 Through sordid woes and cares, 
 
 Its birthright all unknown, 
 
 Its harvest yet unsown, 
 A vision fine and fair 
 As of diviner air, 
 
 Gleams on the inner sight 
 
 Out of the realm of light. 
 
 *It is characteristic of the down-town district of Peoria that 
 many of the streets seem to end in the broad river, beyond which 
 are the wooded bluffs of Tazewell County.
 
 28 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 MY FIRST CIGAR 
 ROBERT J. BURDETTE 
 
 'Twas just behind the woodshed, 
 
 One glorious summer day, 
 Far o'er the hills the sinking sun 
 
 Pursued his westward way; 
 And in my safe seclusion 
 
 Removed from all the jar 
 And din of earth's confusion, 
 
 I smoked my first cigar. 
 
 It was my first cigar! 
 It was the worst cigar! 
 Raw, green, and dank, hide-bound and rank, 
 It was my first cigar! 
 
 Ah, bright the boyish fancies 
 
 Wrapped in the smoke-wreaths blue; 
 My eyes grew dim, my head was light, 
 
 The woodshed round me flew ! 
 Dark night closed in around me 
 
 Black night without a star 
 Grim death methought had found me 
 
 And spoiled my first cigar. 
 
 It was my first cigar! 
 A six-for-five cigar! 
 No viler torch the air could scorch 
 It was my first cigar!
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 29 
 
 All pallid was my beaded brow, 
 
 The reeling night was late; 
 My startled mother cried in fear, 
 
 "My child, what have you ate?" 
 I heard my father's smothered laugh, 
 
 It seemed so strange and far; 
 I knew he knew I knew he knew 
 
 I'd smoked my first cigar! 
 
 It was my first cigar! 
 A give-away cigar! 
 I could not die I knew not why 
 It was my first cigar! 
 
 Since then I've stood in reckless ways, 
 
 I've dared what men can dare, 
 I've mocked at danger, walked with death, 
 
 I've laughed at pain and care; 
 
 I do not dread what may befall 
 
 'Neath my malignant star, 
 No frowning fate again can make 
 
 Me smoke my first cigar. 
 
 I've smoked my first cigar! 
 My first and worst cigar! 
 Fate has no terrors for the man 
 Who's smoked his first cigar! 
 
 From Smiles Yoked with Sighs 
 Copyright, 1900. Used by special 
 permission of the publishers, 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY.
 
 30 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 BUT! 
 
 ROBERT J. BURDETTE 
 (Dedicated to Capricornicus, the great butter!) 
 
 THE MUSICIAN 
 Her white hands over the white keys strayed, 
 
 But her soul was above the stars; 
 And the far-off look in her eyes betrayed 
 
 The fire in the wayward bars. 
 Then her spirit found birth in a burst of song, 
 
 For Music held her hands, 
 And the full-born harmony flowed along 
 
 Like the cadence of angel bands! 
 And the listening multitudes thronged to hear, 
 
 And, weeping, they went away, 
 A-fire and a-tremble, with love and fear 
 
 To dream, and to do, and to pray. 
 But! The lodgers upstairs and across the street 
 
 Prayed heaven that the howl might cease; 
 And they rent their garments and tore their hair, 
 
 And yelled, "POLICE! POLICE!"
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 31 
 
 THE ARTIST 
 Long, with head bowed down, 
 
 He gazed at the embers' glow 
 Till the midnight paused o'er the slumbering town, 
 
 And the waning moon hung low. 
 Then his dark eyes flashed with a genius rare; 
 
 To the easel he sprang with a bound. 
 And he wrought by the glimmering firelight there 
 
 While the shadows gathered around. 
 And all night long, 
 
 Till the pale, pale dawn 
 Looked in at his casement dim, 
 
 He painted "The Song of the Dying Swan," 
 And the song she sang to him, 
 
 And the wondering throngs of awe-struck men, 
 Knelt down to the dream he had wrought; 
 
 For he painted the Soul of the Where and the When 
 The Never, the Which, and the Ought! 
 
 But! When it was dry, he took it down 
 
 And bore it far from thence; 
 And sold it for gold in a distant town, 
 
 For two dollars and fifteen cents.
 
 32 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 THE POET 
 He could not sleep, 
 
 For the stars were calling, 
 The spaces of blue burned white for him; 
 
 The echoes of night around him falling 
 Came up through the ether clear and dim. 
 
 It were profane to light a taper! 
 Low on the breast of the night he leaned! 
 
 He found in the dark some ink and paper, 
 And then, with his eyes from the starlight screened, 
 
 He wrote with a pen that went swiftly flying, 
 Over the pages that flew away, 
 
 The songs of Light that the night was singing 
 The joyous songs of the coming day, 
 
 Words that should be for aye and forever, 
 Thoughts that should stand while time should last 
 
 Dreams of tomorrow, yesterday, never, 
 Words which would sun and the moon outlast. 
 
 But! He carted them down next day to the sanctum, 
 "Read, then," he cried, "what the Muse declares!" 
 
 Straight to the door the editor yanked 'em 
 And fired him down two flights of stairs.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 33 
 
 THE BIRTHPLACE OF BURNS* 
 ROBERT G. INGERSOLL 
 
 Though Scotland boasts a thousand names, 
 
 Of patriot, king, and peer, 
 The noblest, grandest of them all 
 
 Was loved and cradled here. 
 Here lived the gentle peasant-prince, 
 
 The loving Cotter-King, 
 Compared with whom the grandest lord 
 
 Is but a titled thing. 
 
 'Tis but a cot roofed in with straw, 
 
 A hovel made of clay, 
 One door shuts out the snow and storm 
 
 One window greets the day. 
 And yet I stand within this room 
 
 And hold all thrones in scorn, 
 For here, beneath this lowly thatch 
 
 Love's sweetest bard was born. 
 
 Within this hallowed hut I feel 
 
 Like one who clasps a shrine, 
 When the glad lips at last have touched 
 
 The something deemed divine. 
 And here the world, through all the years, 
 
 As long as day returns, 
 The tribute of its love and tears 
 
 Will pay to Robert Burns. 
 
 Aug. 19, 1878. 
 
 *From the author's manuscript copy of this poem which has 
 hung for many years in the librarian's office in the Peoria Public 
 Library.
 
 34 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 ON THE HEIGHTS* 
 
 JULIA HARRIETTS JOHNSTON 
 
 The beautiful bending river, 
 
 The billows of changing green, 
 The light where the sunbeams quiver, 
 
 The shadows that lie between 
 Are seen from the heights above them, 
 
 Where lieth a charmed repose, 
 And one can but look and love them 
 
 From dawn till the daytime's close. 
 
 The fields in the sunlight golden, 
 
 Respond to the smiling sky; 
 The tale is a story olden: 
 
 The harvester's joy is nigh. 
 The gold of the sheaf and stubble 
 
 Lies brilliant against the green; 
 The stress of the toil and trouble 
 
 Is gone from the happy scene. 
 
 The heights overlook the beauty; 
 
 Refreshment and rest are here; 
 But some one toiled at his duty, 
 
 And yonder the fruits appear. 
 The peace of the heights will rest thee 
 
 With a look beyond and below; 
 But the call of the field will test thee, 
 
 And ultimate fruit will show. 
 
 Prospect Heights, Peoria.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 35 
 
 So hark, for a season's quiet, 
 
 To the syllables, soft and sweet, 
 Where the whispering breezes riot, 
 
 And the birds for their chorus meet. 
 In the hush of the heights unbroken, 
 
 Recover thy strength, and then, 
 When the ringing word is spoken, 
 
 Hie down to the fields again. 
 
 From Bright Threads 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & Co. 1897
 
 36 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 A WINTER PARABLE* 
 JULIA HARRIETTS JOHNSTON 
 
 How still it is! Did ever shout 
 Of summer friends ring blithely out? 
 The echoes of the long ago 
 Are muffled in the fallen snow; 
 The hills, through many a day and night 
 Have kept their fleecy garments white; 
 The gorge between is heaped and piled 
 With drifts fantastic, wind-beguiled. 
 The narrow footway, lost or strayed, 
 Reveals one track where he essayed 
 Our venturous guide but yesterday 
 To pass along the untrodden way. 
 And yet the pathway, as of old, 
 Leads on through wonders manifold, 
 Until the rocky cave we win, 
 And walls familiar shut us in. 
 
 But never in the bloom of May, 
 
 Nor ever in midsummer day, 
 
 Amid the wealth of living green, 
 
 Was sight so fair by mortal seen. 
 
 O miracle of ice and frost, 
 
 This columned splendor, light-embossed! 
 
 All common words of praise are lost! 
 
 The drops that in the summer fall 
 
 And lose themselves in channels small 
 
 Have felt the Frost-King's icy spell 
 
 *Refers to Rocky Glen, near Peoria, in winter.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 37 
 
 And turned to jewels as they fell. 
 Ah, plashing drops, to purpose spilt, 
 What crystal marvels ye have built: 
 Two pillars, of such measurement 
 We may not guess their full extent, 
 With flutings fine and traceries rare 
 And frostings all beyond compare. 
 
 But hark to the murmur of water! 
 That musical murmur we know. 
 
 Where is it? Where is it? 
 
 There is it? There is it? 
 Yes; it is tinkling and rippling and sprinkling, 
 
 Making soft laughter below, 
 
 Melodious laughter below. 
 The spring from above never ceases to flow; 
 
 A way it will find, 
 
 Through the shaft or behind, 
 
 Rippling in laughter below, 
 And slipping past the crystal bolts, 
 
 Right onward doth it go, 
 
 Down deep beneath the snow. 
 Talk not of silence while brooklets are singing, 
 
 All softly, down under the snow. 
 Grieve not because the sight and tone, 
 By man unheard, unseen, unknown, 
 Are beautiful to God alone. 
 
 But now another sweet surprise 
 Lies hidden under snowy guise.
 
 38 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 The bank where ferns are wont to grow 
 Is swept of drifted depths of snow, 
 And lo ! some green things growing there 
 A summer look of beauty wear. 
 The winter parable is old, 
 And yet may often be retold: 
 Some pleasant growths resist the cold, 
 And often that which seems to chill, 
 Protects and serves and blesses still. 
 Yet mark the roots must lie below. 
 Go where the ferns are wont to grow, 
 If you would find them 'neath the snow. 
 
 But winter twilight comes apace; 
 And evening shadows interlace 
 The leafless branches, lifted high 
 Like pleading arms against the sky. 
 Our zigzag track we soon retrace, 
 Albeit with uncertain grace. 
 The entrance to the gorge we reach, 
 And homeward go too glad for speech; 
 While silent stars behold again 
 The marble beauty of the glen, 
 And through the silence and the snow 
 The living waters softly flow. 
 
 From Bright Threads 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & Co. 1897
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 39 
 
 HOMESICK 
 
 ANN CALLENDER BURDICK 
 
 My heart and brain are city-tired to-night: 
 The endless rush and roar, the life that seems 
 
 To be not life, but, to a mortal spent, 
 Discordant echoes of a restless dream! 
 
 Oh, shadows of the past that walk with me, 
 To-night I have turned coward for your sake, 
 
 Praying that when the morning's sun shall rise, 
 The dream will pass, and I shall be awake. 
 
 Again to know the silence of the hills, 
 The mighty, wordless anthem of the sea, 
 
 The song of birds, the fragrance of the earth, 
 And all that life was really meant to be. 
 
 From Thoughts in Verse
 
 40 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 HYMN 
 
 WILLIAM HAWLEY SMITH 
 
 Great God, how infinite thou art, 
 How infinite are we; 
 
 We are of thee a living part, 
 Thy children like to thee. 
 
 Eternal progress marks the way 
 Thy Spirit ever moves; 
 
 No dead form or finality 
 Thy living will approves. 
 
 Forever forward is the law 
 Of life in God and man; 
 
 There is no limit, bound, or flaw 
 In life's unmeasured plan. 
 
 Great God, how infinite thou art, 
 How infinite are we; 
 
 Help us each day to do our part 
 To make ourselves like thee.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 41 
 
 A CHILD'S PRAYER 
 WILLIAM HAWLEY SMITH 
 
 When it gets dark, the birds and flowers, 
 Shut up their eyes and say goodnight; 
 
 And God, Who loves them, counts the hours 
 And keeps them safe till it gets light! 
 
 Dear Father! Count the hours to-night, 
 When I'm asleep and cannot see; 
 
 And, in the morning, may the light 
 
 Shine for the birds, the flowers, and me !
 
 42 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 ROBERT BURNS 
 SAMUEL PATTERSON PROWSE 
 
 Auld Scotia hails him wi' acclaim 
 The king o'er ilka rhymer. 
 'Mang a' the bards o' daithless fame 
 What ither sings diviner? 
 
 He toils, yet trills; frae couthie breast 
 The cantie notes are springing, 
 Like lav' rocks rising in the east 
 That soaring, still keeps singing. 
 
 Wi' fascinating power he sings 
 Life's common joys and sorrows, 
 And frae earth's laigh and limpit things 
 Apt illustration borrows. 
 
 We aften think o' Duncan Gray, 
 O' shaws whar birds are singing, 
 O' simmer blink on flow'ry brae 
 Whar heather bells are ringing; 
 
 O' roguish glint in Peggy's ee, 
 O' lad what lo'ed the lasses, 
 O' rigs o' barley on the lee, 
 And sunrise owre the passes. 
 
 We see John Anderson again, 
 And straik Meg's gowden tresses; 
 His Highland Mary's smile we ken, 
 We think o' Jean's caresses.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 43 
 
 We wanner by the banks o' Cree 
 Wi' maid o' Ecclefechan, 
 And when we lilt, "They shall be free," 
 Our Scottisch hearts are pechin'. 
 
 His verses live a' unimpaired 
 By change o' time or fashion; 
 They speak the tongue by a' men shared, 
 Inspired by human passion. 
 
 The secret o' his power we ken 
 The same through a' the ages 
 'Tis only he who loves a' men 
 That love o' men engages.
 
 44 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 ONLY PARTED 
 
 SAMUEL PATTERSON PROWSE 
 
 Earth has her mysteries 
 With which eternal shadows ever blend, 
 And life is mantled in a solemn guise 
 That mortals cannot rend. 
 
 Could we have vision clear 
 As one of old, touched by the prophet's hand, 
 How closely would this world of ours appear 
 Linked to the Spirit Land! 
 
 Who has not felt the rush 
 Of an unseen and gently soothing power 
 That steals o'er heavy hearts with solemn hush 
 In sorrow's trying hour? 
 
 There come at such a time 
 Glad words that sinless angels fain would hear, 
 And oft they bring a longing for that clime 
 Where love has cast out fear.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 45 
 
 SELFISHNESS 
 GEORGE HELGESEN FITCH 
 
 I did a heartless thing to-day; 
 
 The memory rankless still. 
 'Twas Charlie Jones who barred my way 
 
 And asked with nervous thrill 
 If I would help a fellow-man 
 
 By poverty set wild 
 And let him join the circus clan 
 
 By lending him a child. 
 
 I am inclined to charity. 
 
 Jones nearly got his prize, 
 And then each child I seemed to see 
 
 Gazing with starry eyes 
 At lions, elephants, and bears, 
 
 A shouting wondering elf 
 "No sir," I growled, "I'll not go shares. 
 
 I'll take them all myself."
 
 46 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 EXPERIENCE 
 
 WILLIAM JAMES LEACH 
 
 To do my work and be myself, 
 
 Serenely day by day; 
 To hold my peace until I know 
 
 The word I ought to say; 
 
 To learn to give of what I have 
 For those who may have need; 
 
 To lift my life until it find 
 Expression in a deed; 
 
 To live content, yet eagerly 
 Press on to better things; 
 
 To hold, through all my days, the joy 
 With which glad childhood rings; 
 
 To stand alone when others may 
 Not choose to stand with me; 
 
 To give to every fellow-man 
 This same large liberty; 
 
 To see my cherished plans go wrong 
 And yet not lose my hope; 
 
 To walk sometimes in darkness 
 But never have to grope; 
 
 To feel my faith in God and man 
 Grow brighter day by day; 
 
 To learn to live and love and serve; 
 Most earnestly I pray. 
 
 From Poems and War Letters 
 THE MANUAL ARTS PRESS, 1922
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 47 
 
 LIVING LIGHTLY 
 
 WILLIAM JAMES LEACH 
 
 My Father, may my hold on life 
 
 Be strong and sure and light. 
 When I should stand, then may I have 
 
 The grace and grit to fight. 
 But when I lose, may I have sense 
 
 To get me straight away, 
 Thankful that I may have a chance 
 
 To fight another day. 
 In such a changing world may I 
 
 Not bind myself too fast, 
 Even to what most precious seems, 
 
 For things here do not last. 
 
 My friends may I hold dear, and yet 
 
 Let me not lean on them. 
 Who knows the hour I may reach out 
 
 In vain to touch the hem 
 Of that one's garment who stood near 
 
 So long, to be my strength? 
 And I shall stand at last alone. 
 
 Each life has its own length. 
 
 May I, if this whole day be mine, 
 
 Work hard till it is past; - 
 Be ready to let go and smile, 
 
 If this should be my last. 
 
 From Poems and War Letters 
 THE MANUAL ARTS PRESS, 1922
 
 48 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 A TRIAD 
 ELLEN GALUSHA SMITH 
 
 Yesterday: Coffin of our hopes and cradle of our 
 
 fears, 
 A vale of sad regrets for all the good we might 
 
 have done, 
 A time to look upon with stinted smiles and plenteous 
 
 tears, 
 
 A land of shadows, save where lit by Love's re- 
 flected sun. 
 
 And yet, we linger with a fond regret along the way 
 That leads us on, and sigh to leave the tomb of 
 Yesterday. 
 
 To-day : A living spark that gleams between two end- 
 less nights, 
 A grain of sand that slips between what was and 
 
 is to be, 
 A breath, full freighted with the odors of our sweet 
 
 delights, 
 
 Or heavy laden with the dews that rise from Sor- 
 row's sea, 
 
 A battle ground, where good and ill wage never end- 
 ing strife. 
 
 Oh, great To-day ! thou art, we are we know no 
 more of life.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 49 
 
 To-morrow: Sweet deluder of our ever troubled 
 
 race; 
 
 To-morrow I shall be healthier, wealthier, wiser; 
 So, to-day's poverty and pain I bear with better 
 
 grace. 
 Oh, a thousand times as mean as the most sordid 
 
 miser 
 Is the grim cynic who would cheat us, in our present 
 
 sorrow, 
 
 Of the bright hues of Hope, whose bow of promise 
 spans To-morrow!
 
 50 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 HOME 
 EUGENE DE'AGUERO BROWN 
 
 Stands at the end of a quiet street, 
 Right where the town and the country meet,- 
 Our little house, with its nice brown face, 
 Lending a welcoming air and grace. 
 Strong in its trimming of milky white, 
 Breaking the sky-line by day or night, 
 Pleasantly smiling, it seems to say: 
 "Here is a house that has come to stay." 
 Just 'round the corner the countryside 
 Spreads out its arms till they're open wide, 
 Bidding you walk in the clear, fresh air 
 Out to the country of Don' t-Know- Where, 
 Out to the quiet of timbered dales, 
 Filled full of legends and fairly tales. 
 Home! And the echo rings loud and clear. 
 Oh, when I'm tired, just leave me here.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 51 
 
 AT BEDTIME 
 
 EUGENE DE'AGUERO BROWN 
 
 At bedtime, when the world is still 
 And good-nights all around are said, 
 Our children straggle up the hill 
 That leads them to their fluffy bed. 
 
 And sometimes I just straggle too, 
 And run a race to get undressed, 
 Or listen while they all go through 
 The little prayers they love the best. 
 
 And sometimes when the light's turned out, 
 I'll tickle them with funny rhymes, 
 Or funny things I've heard about, 
 Or little jokes, and then sometimes 
 
 I get in bed with them and play. 
 
 It makes them laugh, and kick, and squeal, 
 
 And, thinking back along the way, 
 
 I know exactly how they feel. 
 
 And by and by their eyes, seems like, 
 Get heavy. Now their Mother's there, 
 And kisses ev'ry little tyke, 
 And tucks them in with tender care. 
 
 And then we stand there, spell-bound, and 
 At last we gently slip away, 
 As eyelids, set with slumber sand, 
 Have gone to rest until the day.
 
 52 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 JAZZ 
 
 ARTHUR GALUSHA SMITH 
 
 In the marble lobby of the great hotel they stood, 
 
 Laughing, jesting, 
 
 Waiting for the bronze doors to open 
 
 To slide aside for them 
 
 That they might whisk aloft to sound-drenched 
 
 floors above, 
 And pay obeisance with their splendid, lithe, young 
 
 bodies 
 To the modern god 
 
 Of Jazz! 
 
 Youth was theirs, and beauty of a sort, 
 
 For they had so bestowed upon themselves 
 
 The fullest functionings of razor, tweezers, searing 
 
 needle, lotion, powder, cream, and tint, 
 That art had fairly well supplied 
 What modern beauty's standard needs, 
 In any certain case, 
 Deem fit and fashionable! 
 
 Wealth was surely theirs, 
 
 For suits, silks, furs, feathers, jewels, perfumes, 
 
 All called out that money was their slave. 
 
 Wit, too, was theirs, 
 For one said to his friends 
 
 The while his polished shoe caressed the slavered, 
 brazen urn
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 53 
 
 That stood there on its littered rubber mat 
 "The drinking glasses may be short up there. 
 "Had we not better take this with us as we go?" 
 
 Oh, vanished sturdy prairie pioneers ! 
 The wealth that gushed out from your toiling hands, 
 The dear-bought wisdom of your rugged minds 
 Have fruited now in children's children 
 Sickening jesters 
 
 Worshipers of Jazz ! 
 
 America ! America ! 
 
 Like Rome of old we die 
 
 If on our topmost branches there 
 
 We burgeon largely 
 
 Into painted, sterile fruits 
 
 Like these! 
 
 Of Jazz!
 
 54 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 ACHIEVEMENT INSTINCT 
 
 ARTHUR GALUSHA SMITH 
 
 Along the highway of the states, 
 From east to west 
 I saw white painted, huge, 
 On flattish roofs of barns, 
 Stark numerals faced upward 
 Toward the sky. 
 
 I thrilled! 
 
 These were the sign posts, 
 Reading from above, 
 To guide the airmen 
 In their prairie flight. 
 
 The night came down 
 
 With fog and rain. 
 
 Gone was every huge and staring guide. 
 
 Yet on and on through all that night 
 
 Wild geese clove the inky black, 
 
 And with their age-old cries 
 
 (That prickle through man's blood) 
 
 Called each to each: 
 
 "All's well ! We travel south 
 
 To our appointed place."
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 55 
 
 With eyes fast closed 
 
 I looked far back 
 
 Down aeons, vague with vanished years, 
 
 And there an ape-man, naked 
 
 Crouched within a tropic cave, 
 
 Dull reason dimly showing 
 
 Upon his fearful face. 
 
 But even then, in that remote abyss of time 
 That hairy savage heard the wild geese call 
 Just as they call today.
 
 56 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 PERSPECTIVE 
 ARTHUR GALUSHA SMITH 
 
 The near thing 
 That's the dear thing 
 Is so hard for us to see. 
 
 While the far thing, 
 Like some star thing, 
 Lures with its mystery.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 57 
 
 THANKSGIVING 
 
 FLORENCE JEFFERS SHEARER 
 
 That Thou to me hast granted life, 
 And placed me here, right here, and now, 
 To toil and strive, to sing and dream 
 A unit needed in Thy scheme 
 I give Thee thanks. 
 
 That I may clasp the hand and gaze 
 Into the eyes of trusted friend, 
 And in their mirrored depths I see 
 A tender love and loyalty, 
 I give Thee thanks. 
 
 That in the petals of the rose, 
 And in the song of trilling bird, 
 And in the forest creatures play, 
 I see Thy joyous radiancy, 
 I give Thee thanks. 
 
 That when the sunlight thrills my soul, 
 And gleams afar o'er hut and dome, 
 And when clouds shift in murky air, 
 I feel Thy presence everywhere, 
 I give Thee thanks. 
 
 That when my steps are faltering, 
 And indecision hides my path; 
 When doubts and fears obscure my sight, 
 Thy guidance leads me to the light, 
 I give Thee thanks.
 
 58 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 I MUST GO BACK 
 
 J. MERLE STEVENS 
 
 I must go back and find again 
 The little home I used to know; 
 I must go back and live once more 
 Those happy days of long ago. 
 I must go back! 
 
 Adown the unforgotten way 
 I'll find my childhood home once more, 
 The weeping willow by the well, 
 And mother standing at the door. 
 
 The trundle-bed where once I slept 
 I'll kneel again beside it there, 
 And as my mother taught me then, 
 I'll say again my evening prayer. 
 
 The sweetheart of the long ago 
 I must go back and find her, too, 
 With golden hair and sunny smile, 
 And eyes that like the skies were blue. 
 
 The old romance, the youthful dreams, 
 Have gone too far, too far away, 
 I must go back to them again, 
 Some where along the backward way.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 59 
 
 I must go back and find again 
 The childhood hope that knew no fears ; 
 I must not lose, in manhood's ways, 
 The God and faith of childhood's years. 
 
 Ah, me ! the days that used to be ! 
 How far, how far they seem away! 
 I seek them through the mist of years 
 It is so far to yesterday! 
 I must go back !
 
 60 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 SUNRISE ON THE PRAIRIE 
 
 KATHARINE HART 
 
 The thick grey clouds lie piled in masses high; 
 The south wind softly sweeps the silent plain; 
 
 The pale stars wane; 
 Afar the lightning comes and goes again; 
 All nature sleeps, tho' waking time is nigh. 
 
 Alone a tiny insect lifts its voice ; 
 
 Is answered back repeats its questioning notes. 
 
 Then upward floats 
 From myriad infinitesimal throats 
 The gladsome song "The Night is gone ! Rejoice !" 
 
 Down in the east, among the tints of grey, 
 Appears a long, low line of golden light. 
 
 In glory bright 
 
 The sun sends forth strong beams of radiant might, 
 And clears the pathway for the coming day!
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 61 
 
 THE EXULTANT 
 KATHARINE HART 
 
 Comes the Exultant, 
 
 Speeding on buoyant feet through ether rare, 
 His face uplifted to the burning stars, 
 His heart enfolding all the universe, 
 And Life and Love within his outstretched hands. 
 With dauntless mien he fronts the ardent sun, 
 Triumphant, fearless in its pulsing light; 
 The joy of joy expands his radiant form, 
 And peans ecstatic swell his raptured soul. 
 
 Lo ! The Exultant !
 
 62 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 WHEN BABY WRITES 
 CLAUDE HOLLAND GAMBLE 
 
 When baby writes, 
 
 He puts a piece of pencil in his hand 
 
 And gets a sheet of paper, large or small, 
 
 And then he makes some letters that are grand, 
 
 Although you cannot read the things at all 
 
 When baby writes. 
 
 When baby writes, 
 
 He makes a square and then a curving line; 
 Perhaps he makes a cross across the sheet, 
 And every daddy says his writing's fine 
 When baby writes. 
 
 When baby writes, 
 
 He doesn't use the language that you know ; 
 
 He's got a little language all his own: 
 
 A cross means love, a dot's a kiss just so; 
 
 To dads and mas and babies they are known 
 
 When baby writes.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 63 
 
 THIS DAY 
 
 (Armistice Day, 1921) 
 
 CLAUDE HOLLAND GAMBLE 
 
 Three years ago the big guns worked then halted; 
 
 Three years ago the rifles spoke then stilled; 
 Three years ago the Right was high exalted; 
 
 The war was ended as our Nation willed; 
 Three years ago we pledged our faith and station; 
 
 Three years ago we owed our men a debt; 
 Three years ago we promised God and Nation 
 
 Our best. God help, lest, foolish, we forget !
 
 64 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 LITTLE OLD HOUSE 
 W. KEE MAXWELL 
 
 Little old house with the big front yard, 
 Where the phlox and asters grow, 
 
 Where the sentinel maples stand on guard 
 In a silent, soldierly row, 
 
 Whithersoever my steps may roam, 
 
 Little old house, you are home, sweet home ! 
 
 Rollicking kids, on your friendly floor, 
 How we romped the years away! 
 
 Little old house, by your low front door 
 There was crepe on a springtime day. 
 
 Sobbing and laughter, smiles and tears, 
 
 These you shared in the long-gone years. 
 
 Time is a tide that is never still; 
 
 Ever it sweeps us on 
 Further and further from Youth until 
 
 Life, ere we know, is gone. 
 Little old house, how the years have flown 
 Since you knew and sheltered me as your own ! 
 
 Little old house, there is luxury 
 
 In my modern domicile ; 
 An architect earned himself a fee 
 
 To fashion its grace and style. 
 But oh, were it marble with gilded dome, 
 Little old house, you are home, sweet home !
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 65 
 
 RAIN 
 W. KEE MAXWELL 
 
 Rain a little, rain a lot, 
 Rain all day, it matters not. 
 Though the lanes like freshets run, 
 Love is love in rain or sun. 
 
 Drizzle, drizzle, drab and gray, 
 Through the weary, dreary day 
 Never matter; rain and sun 
 Are the same when love is done.
 
 66 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 YOUTH 
 
 JULIA KEMPSHALL CLARK 
 
 I am Youth. 
 
 I drink from the fountains of life, 
 I ride on the sunbeams at dawn, 
 I dance while you mourn, 
 And I am unafraid. 
 You, in advance, step aside! 
 You can not impede my approach. 
 I must conquer I always conquer. 
 Obstacles do not appall me, 
 Heap them high as you will, 
 For I know that the world is mine, 
 All that there is is mine. 
 A few years and all power, wisdom, knowledge, are 
 
 in my grasp, 
 For I am the Future's statesman, scholar, scientist, 
 
 merchant, soldier, ruler. 
 
 You can not deny me ; you can not even delay me ; 
 No power so mighty that I may not o'ercome it. 
 Mine is the stride of the conqueror; 
 In my heart is the strength of the victor. 
 Love is mine; love mighty, compelling, 
 Love creative, consuming. 
 Life and love are mine ; none can deny me. 
 Onward I come. Step aside ! Step aside ! 
 
 I am the feminine of Youth. 
 
 I dance and I dress, I sing and I laugh, 
 
 For aeons are futile without me.
 
 PEOR1A BOOK OF VERSE 67 
 
 In my arms, weak though they seem, 
 
 Shall be cradled the might of the future. 
 
 From my pains and my anguish 
 
 Spring Earth's power and glory. 
 
 No nation so strong it can set me aside ; 
 
 Thrones, kingdoms, republics are naught without me. 
 
 The world lies in my untried grasp. 
 
 Life, love, joy, pain, ye are mine all are mine. 
 
 ****** 
 
 I am the masculine of Youth. 
 The world waits for me welcomes me. 
 I can take what I reach none denies me. 
 All power is mine, I feel it astirring; 
 Age, manhood and womanhood are naught be- 
 side me. 
 
 Love calls, resistless, puissant. 
 From my loins spring the hordes of the nations; 
 Legions await only my summons. 
 Life's vista's aglow with resplendence; 
 The game is a glad one, I shrink not, I fear not, 
 For I am the victor, predestined through time. 
 On life's pinions I come. Step aside ! Step aside !
 
 68 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 UNITY 
 
 (A Memorial Day Poem) 
 HASKELL READY ARMSTRONG 
 
 One flag above, one land beneath; 
 One nation proud, its arms in sheath. 
 One thought, one sorrow; gone are they 
 Whose deeds we honor here today. 
 
 One flag above, one land beneath; 
 One nation proud, its arms in sheath. 
 One heart, one head bowed down to pray 
 For those we honor here today. 
 
 Two flags had they, two lands they knew; 
 Two armies brave their trusts kept true. 
 Two were they then one now are they 
 Whose lives we honor here today. 
 
 One flag o'erhead, one earth beneath; 
 Let nations all their arms ensheath; 
 Let kingdom quarrels give place to love ; 
 Stop war, O Infinite Power above !
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 69 
 
 MY HOUSE OF FAME 
 FRANCES NANCY MARTIN 
 
 Long years ago when Life and Thought were young, 
 I planned a wondrous House of Fame 
 
 Therein to dwell in gratified content 
 As all sang praises to my name. 
 
 But Time sped swiftly by me year by year 
 
 With Duty calling me by name, 
 And, when the necessary tasks were done, 
 
 No time was left to build for Fame. 
 
 And now with ripened years, I ask, oh, Life, 
 Not laurel wreath, not plaudits loud, 
 
 But give me strength to lend a helping hand 
 To those in grief and sorrow bowed. 
 
 I ask for health to do some needed work, 
 For friends whom I may trust and love, 
 
 For vision clear to see beyond Life's clouds 
 To greater usefulness Above.
 
 70 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 LIFE'S CIRCLE 
 
 WILLIAM ALEXANDER BONE 
 
 We live in circles just as big 
 
 And broad as we are great; 
 
 Inside, a paradise of love; 
 
 Outside, the fires of hate. 
 
 We draw a ring around a chosen 
 
 Clique or special clan; 
 
 Inside, we label caste; outside, 
 
 We give to common man. 
 
 And thus our love may circle self, 
 
 Without a single friend, 
 
 Or reach around the world, and 
 
 Like the circle never end. 
 
 I limit mine by just how much of 
 
 Life I strive to live; 
 
 I measure it by just how much of 
 
 Love I try to give. 
 
 Your circle may not circle me, 
 
 Nor hold a love for two ; 
 
 Yet, I can draw a circle big enough 
 
 To encircle you. 
 
 Your love may turn me down as if 
 
 Your circle thought me sin; 
 
 And yet, my love can circle out and 
 
 Take your circle in.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 71 
 
 Your circle may be hate, and you 
 
 May shut and bar the doors; 
 
 And yet, love's circle never ends; 
 
 'Twill always circle yours. 
 
 There is no boundary line to God's 
 
 Infinite sphere of love; 
 
 It covers all the earth and reaches 
 
 To the stars above 
 
 Like Him, who came to save the world, 
 
 To raise it from its fall, 
 
 His circle was so big and broad His 
 
 Love encircled all.
 
 72 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 DOUBTING THOMAS 
 
 WILLIAM ALEXANDER BONE 
 
 Ben Franklin says, "I'll take a kite an' key 
 
 An' shock the world with electricity. 
 
 Nobody's done it that I know," 
 
 But Doubtin' Thomas says, "Go slow! 
 
 Old man, your bonnet's full o' bees-^- 
 
 No 'lectric shocks in kites an' keys." 
 
 But then there was. Old Benny sailed his kites 
 
 Till all the world has got electric lights. 
 
 Then Eli Whitney says, "Guess I'll start in 
 
 An' figger out some sort o' cotton gin. 
 
 Nobody's done it that I know," 
 
 But Doubtin' Thomas says, "Go slow! 
 
 My boy, the world has got enough 
 
 Won't anybody drink the stuff." 
 
 But then, "he got there, Eli" with his gin 
 
 An' this old world begun to weave an' spin. 
 
 Then Cy McCormick vowed, "I'll bring to pass 
 
 A time when man can ride an' mow the grass. 
 
 Nobody's done it that I know," 
 
 But Doubtin' Thomas says, "Won't mow! 
 
 No man will ever see the day 
 
 He'll beat a scythe fer cuttin' hay." 
 
 But then he did. The old McCormick's mowed 
 
 Most all the timothy that's ever growed.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 But old Bob Fulton had a funny dream 
 About a boat he'd build to run by steam. 
 "Nobody's built one that I know," 
 But Doubtin' Thomas says, "Won't go ! 
 The idee trav'lin' anywhere 
 By power o' steam it's all hot air !" 
 You bet it was. I've been takin' notes 
 An' find the sea is full o' steamin' boats. 
 
 Then Sam'l Morse swore that he could fire 
 
 Intelligence right through a coil o' wire. 
 
 "Nobody's done it that I know," 
 
 But Doubtin' Thomas says, "Won't go ! 
 
 The idee of a simple sound 
 
 A foller'n coils o' wire around!" 
 
 But then it did. Old Sammy turned the trick. 
 
 An' now the telegraph goes click-ity-click. 
 
 An' now Marconi up an' says, "I jing! 
 
 I have no use fer wires ner anything. 
 
 Nobody needs them that I know," 
 
 But Doubtin' Thomas says, "No show 
 
 Fer him ! Jest watch him rave an' tear 
 
 That feller's talkin' through the air." 
 
 You bet he wus. He choked old Tommy's laugh 
 
 An' gave the world a wireless telegraph.
 
 74 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 An' there's them flyin' Wrights, Ohio dudes, 
 Both up an' said they'd conquer altitudes. 
 "Nobody's done it that we know," 
 But Doubtin' Thomas says, "Don't crow! 
 Can't see no wings ner tail in sight, 
 An' don't believe them boys be Wright." 
 But then they was. Sailed altitudes so high 
 Blame Yankee dudes put near run out o' sky. 
 
 Then old Prof. Roentgen says, "With my X-ray 
 
 I'll see what's in a man as plain as day. 
 
 "Nobody's done it that I know," 
 
 But Doubtin' Thomas says, "Not so ! 
 
 There ain't no livin' man kin see 
 
 A tarnel thing inside o' me !" 
 
 Guess he was right. Prof, turned his X-ray on 
 
 But couldn't find a thing Tom's brains was gone.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 75 
 
 THE MUTUAL FRIEND 
 
 (To a Soldier in France) 
 ERNEST A. PASQUAY 
 
 The daylight fades; 
 Soft evening shadows fall; 
 Night spreads her sable wings, 
 And solitude pervades. 
 
 Flooding the sky 
 
 With limpid golden light, 
 
 The smiling moon breaks forth, 
 
 And fleeing clouds float by. 
 
 My searching glance 
 Through vaulted sky beholds 
 The Star, which greeted you 
 Somewhere in France.
 
 76 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 LIFE'S PROMISE 
 BESSIE CURRAN SMITH 
 
 Sunset comes with wondrous glow, 
 Just before the twilight gray, 
 
 Bringing with its mellow light 
 Promise of another day. 
 
 Autumn comes with richest tints, 
 Warmly touching everything, 
 
 Bringing with its lavish wealth 
 Promise of another spring. 
 
 So the change which we call death- 
 For the soul is Nature's rest 
 
 Bringing with its mystic power 
 Promise of victorious quest.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 77 
 
 WESTMINSTER ABBEY 
 
 ELLA BESEMAN 
 
 Great pile, thou speak' st a language of thine own! 
 Thy chapels, towers, monuments, and spires, 
 Thy carvings, tombs, ana every stone on stone 
 Breathe of the souls once filled with heavenly fires. 
 What builders brought their noblest gifts to thee ! 
 What artists wrought through countless weary hours ! 
 What kings before thine altars bent the knee ! 
 What honored dead came here when earth's fair 
 
 bowers 
 
 No longer held them with a magic spell ! 
 In truth, thou glorious temple of the Lord, 
 Thou art the home of earth's great thoughts as well; 
 In thee, ideals, hopes, honors, dreams are stored. 
 Thou sayest to the world's admiring eyes, 
 "The soul lives on, 'tis but the clay that dies."
 
 78 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 JUSTICE 
 MARK LANGDON ROWELL 
 
 The rulers of earth are new, 
 
 But the laws of the earth are old, 
 And will compass the range of the seasons of change 
 
 Till the fullness of time is told. 
 
 Ye can build in what manner ye will, 
 But your fabric will fall to the flaw. 
 
 Ye may think to do wrong by the right of the strong, 
 But ye cannot evade the law. 
 
 Ye may hold up its wisdom to scorn; 
 
 Ye may mock at the might of its breath, 
 But its truth will outlive any slur ye can give, 
 
 For "the wages of sin is death." 
 
 The nations have governed the earth 
 In the might of their power and pride, 
 
 Whom the wrath of the world to destruction hath 
 
 hurled 
 For the law that they cast aside. 
 
 The kings of the earth have built 
 
 On the dust where their fathers slept, 
 
 And have mustered their braves on the turf-sodded 
 
 graves 
 Where the wars of their sires have swept.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 79 
 
 The fabric of earth is old, 
 
 And the dust on its altars is deep. 
 Will ye boastingly sing of the wisdom ye bring 
 
 Nor remember the law ye keep? 
 
 For the law shall forever endure, 
 
 And your children shall bow to its rod 
 
 In obedience meet till they climb to the feet 
 Of its maker, and judge, and God.
 
 80 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 ALLEGORY 
 
 JOSEPH ROWE BINFORD, JR. 
 
 At close of day when dusk is nigh, 
 A glory road shines in the sky 
 And flames and flashes far on high 
 When dusk is come. 
 
 The dead are dead, and in their stead 
 Is naught to mark that they have bled, 
 Save many a poppy's brilliant red, 
 At evening time. 
 
 A half majestic, earthly throng, 
 The hosts of battle march along, 
 Supernal voices raised in song, 
 In praise of Him. 
 
 On, on they go. The light is dim; 
 On, on beyond the earth's gold rim, 
 The hosts of battle follow Him, 
 Through sunset's glow. 
 
 The glory road leads to the west; 
 The dead are marching to their rest, 
 And Christ enfolds them in His breast, 
 At close of day.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 81 
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE SPRINGTIME 
 
 LIESEL BEWSHER 
 
 As softly as a flitting moth, 
 
 Spring came, dancing, in the night 
 
 And left behind her as a gift 
 
 My little pear tree decked in white. 
 
 A burst of bloom on every twig, 
 
 She holds her head with dainty pride, 
 
 Waiting for the errant wind, 
 
 Who comes to claim her for his bride.
 
 82 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 OH, WHAT A DAY! 
 
 RUTH VIRGINIA GIBSON 
 
 Gray day, gray skies, 
 
 Winds that whistle and screech; 
 Black waves, green waves, 
 
 Sweeping over the beach. 
 Calling wildly, 
 
 Birds fly swiftly away; 
 Far, near, all drear, 
 
 Oh, what a day ! What a day !
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 83 
 
 What does the young corn know 
 
 But to exist and grow? 
 
 Its glad, green arms stretched mutely up to God; 
 
 Firmly implanted in the clean, moist earth 
 
 Which gave it birth, 
 
 It lives a life of thankfulness, each row 
 
 Loving its root-run clod. 
 
 What does the peach tree know 
 
 But to exist and grow? 
 
 For April's beauty fades in autumn time; 
 
 Yet in each homely branch there breathes and lives 
 
 The glow it gives when blossoms blow. 
 
 It is His gift unseeing man is slow 
 
 To follow the sublime.
 
 84 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 SHRINE 
 
 HELEN IDA MORROW 
 
 A candle was shaped for a shrine by a child, 
 
 New to the ways of worshipers. 
 
 She molded the wax in her hands, and smiled 
 
 At the prayer she would pray, 
 
 At the chant she would say, 
 
 At the flowers she would lay 
 
 On the altar. 
 
 A god wandering past said, "Fire you have none; 
 
 Let me blow on your candle and give it a flame ; 
 
 You must have fire though your gods be of stone." 
 
 So he gave her a fire 
 
 That trembled higher, 
 
 And smiled at the wistfulness of her desire 
 
 Lest it falter. 
 
 She saw the slow smile as it dreamed on his face, 
 Ere he stepped to the throne by the shrine she had 
 
 hewn. 
 
 His shrine and his flowers, 
 His sun and his showers, 
 Even the days and the hours 
 His. 
 
 She stumbled, half-sleeping, toward the shrine, 
 
 And her candle she put at his feet. 
 
 "The candle and shrine and chant are thine,
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 85 
 
 The candle I made; 
 The chant I prayed; 
 You lit the flame on the candle," she said. 
 
 Did he hear? Did he see? Ah, who knows? 
 Was she woman or child? 
 I believe he arose, half-startled to see 
 Such a gypsy there, 
 
 Scarlet leaves in her hair 
 
 Was it Eden and angel and sword to dare? 
 
 "I have candles enough on my shrines," said he; 
 "Keep that warm in your heart for me." 
 .And smiled.
 
 86 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSL 
 
 FRIEND 
 
 HARVEY NORMAN RINGEL 
 
 You take me from the shadowy lanQ 
 And show to me the glorious sun. 
 
 Which tries to hide itself in vain 
 Among the clouds so silvery spun. 
 
 Lovely pictures, too, you paint 
 
 Of the future yet to be, 
 And then the hosts of heavenly saints 
 
 Lend all their earthly aid to thee. 
 
 And when to you I tell my heart, 
 You seem to live my sorrow, too 
 
 As if it were a secret part 
 Of the heart God gave to yoi
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 A BUSY CORNER 
 RUSSELL EDWARD McMuRRAY 
 
 A bustling crowd, a noisy street, > 
 A street car's clang and shuffling feet, 
 Policeman's whistle, newsies' cries, 
 A muddled noise that seldom dies, 
 The autos' horns, the motors' hum, 
 And street cars clattering as they come, 
 All jumble till one noise is heard, 
 And this is summed up in one word 
 Confusion. 
 
 87
 
 88 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 MELANCHOLY 
 
 LAWRENCE WILLARD COCKRELL 
 
 Violets demure and butter-cups sweet, 
 Bright new leaves and grasses springing, 
 Breezes warm, their promise bringing, 
 Came my mournful face to greet 
 I did not see. 
 
 Daffodils gayly dancing after 
 Winds have gently kissed their heads, 
 Daisies, smiling from their beds, 
 Speak of joy, of love, of laughter 
 But not to me.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 89 
 
 SPRING 
 
 ALSACE MOINE CROSBIE 
 
 Spring calls from over the hills; 
 
 She has come. 
 
 In the woods her soft voice rises; 
 
 She has come. 
 
 In my garden 
 
 So recently covered with snow, 
 
 Wee flowers in delicate robes arise 
 
 And peep from under their sheltering green. 
 
 In the warm, brown earth, 
 
 Grey, ugly bulbs expand and burst, 
 
 And, pushing their pale shoots upward, 
 
 Break forth from their winter home 
 
 And appear in my garden.
 
 90 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 THE CLIFF 
 
 ALICE LOVERIDGE 
 
 It was God's resting place in this great universe. 
 
 At high noon 
 
 Could be heard the soft twitterings 
 
 Of the birds, 
 
 The peaceful rustle of the leaves, 
 
 And the ever-restful wash, wash of the waters.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 91 
 
 MOONRISE ON A MISTY EVENING 
 
 t 
 
 THELMA LORRAINE CROSBIE 
 
 A great orange lantern 
 
 Rising, 
 
 Hanging, 
 
 Glowing in a blue-grey sky. 
 
 Soft, pale-yellow mist 
 
 Veiling, 
 
 Enfolding, 
 
 Caressing the gleaming ball.
 
 92 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 BLOSSOM-SHRINE 
 CAMILLE MAHANNAH 
 
 Crazy Jim walks past my door 
 Every day at a quarter to four; 
 I wonder what in the world he sees 
 As he gazes up at my apple trees. 
 
 Just now when they are in blossoms dressed 
 And robins and orioles have found a nest, 
 And on every cluster's delicate pink 
 Pauses a homing bee to drink, 
 Old Jim stretches forth his arms so wide 
 As if to gather that beauty inside. 
 
 Perhaps up in the branches there, 
 Smiles down a dryad wondrous fair, 
 For Jim's bent hat with its battered straw 
 Is doffed in reverential awe, 
 And his dim eyes glow with a holy light 
 As if Diana greeted his sight. 
 
 Crazy Jim walks past my door 
 Every day at a quarter to four; 
 I wonder what in the world he sees 
 As he gazes up at my apple trees.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 93 
 
 INDIAN WOMEN 
 DOROTHY CROWDER 
 
 From the native village come the Indian women, 
 Bringing their basket^ to sell to the townspeople; 
 Three of them are coming slowly up the street, 
 Each bearing a basket on her head and a child in 
 
 her arms; 
 Their gaudy pink and red skirts drag on the dusty 
 
 ground, 
 And around their heads are rusty, mournful black 
 
 scarfs. 
 They are tired, and sit on a curbstone, resting and 
 
 nursing their babies, 
 Shielding them with their scarfs from the glances 
 
 of passers-by; 
 
 A customer approaches; they haggle over prices, 
 But finally the basket is sold, and they go on their 
 
 way, stolidly, 
 Talking among themselves in strange, guttural tones.
 
 94 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 FROM THE DESERT 
 
 DOROTHY CROWDER 
 
 On the corner stands a lone cactus; 
 
 Its fellows are far away in the desert. 
 
 It, too, was once of the desert, 
 
 But a town sprang up around it, destroying its 
 
 kindred. 
 
 It bristles now in its armor, defying man to touch it, 
 And turns its proud gaze to the mountains, 
 Defiant, alone.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 95 
 
 FRIENDS 
 
 FROM AN ARIZONA EASEL 
 
 DOROTHY CROWDER 
 
 i 
 I have some rugged mountain friends. 
 
 I could watch forever their restless shadows and 
 
 colors; 
 
 Sometimes they are bleak, forbidding, 
 Their peaks looking coldly toward the sky. 
 Sometimes they withdraw and shroud themselves 
 
 with a veil of mist, 
 
 Later emerging, their heads covered with snow. 
 But I love them most at sunset, 
 When they are aflame with gorgeous color 
 Then they are friendly, and seem to wish me well.
 
 96 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 LAKE EVENING 
 HOLLAND DEWITTE ROBERTS 
 
 Little waves are lapping all along the shore, 
 Whispering together, tapping at the door; 
 
 In and out the moonbeams patter golden bright, 
 Weaving webs of shadow from the woof of night.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 97 
 
 REQUIEM 
 HOLLAND DEWITTE ROBERTS 
 
 Last night I dreamed of flowers, 
 Great bunches of pinks and roses, 
 And you among them, shaking them in showers 
 Over me as I lay sleeping in the sun. 
 Now I wander like a lonely ghost, 
 Feeling the emptiness of dreams 
 When they are done.
 
 98 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 A MID-SUMMER BONNET 
 MARY ROBINSON GIBSON 
 
 Oh, what a love of a mid-summer bonnet ! 
 See the adorable fripperies on it! 
 Misty with lace and with crepe de chine shirring, 
 Feelings of longing in maiden hearts stirring. 
 See the deep pink in the rose petals glowing, 
 Just a wee bit underneath the brim showing. 
 Light as a fancy of fairy creation, 
 Wearing it causes a thrill of elation. 
 "Isn't it dear?" echo girl voices gladly, 
 Searching each purse for the price of it, madly. 
 "Isn't it dear?" asks the one who will wear it; 
 "Terribly dear!" yes, her father will swear it. 
 Just for some lace with a few roses on it 
 Ah, but it's such an adorable bonnet!
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 
 AUTHORS REPRESENTED IN THIS BOOK 
 HASKEL READY ARMSTRONG. 
 
 Born in Salt Lake City, Utah, in 1891. Lived in Peoria 
 since 1901. Eight years in newspaper work in news and 
 editorial departments. Manager of a life insurance agency in 
 1922. Founder and first president of Lions Club of Peoria. 
 
 ELLA BESEMAN. 
 
 Born in Dresden in 1861. Lived in Peoria since 1862. 
 Teacher and principal of a public school. President of 
 Peoria Teachers' Club, 1906-1907. President of School 
 Mistresses Club of Illinois, 1907-1908. 
 
 LIESEL BEWSHER. 
 
 Born in Peoria, 1894. Kindergarten teacher, Peoria. 
 
 JOSEPH ROWE BINFORD, JR. 
 
 Born in Bolton, Texas, 1896. In Peoria since 1910. Student. 
 
 WILLIAM ALEXANDER BONE (BILL BONE) 
 
 Born in Petersburg, 111., 1869. Lived in Peoria since 
 1912. Lecturer and entertainer. Author of 'Tiuixt Twilight 
 and Dafwn (poems) and House of Man (prose and poety a 
 lecture). In lyceum and Chautauqua work for eighteen years. 
 
 EUGENE DE' AGUERO BROWN (GENE BROWN) 
 
 Born in Elmwood, 111., 1875. In Peoria since 1876. Busi- 
 ness, real estate sub-divisions. Author of Thanksgiving and 
 Other Rhymes, Life Pictures and Other Thoughts, Rhymes 
 'Round Home, and Little Brown Book. Has been president 
 of Aircraft Club, Auto Trails Association, Good Roads Asso- 
 ciation, and Illinois Valley Protective Association. 
 
 99
 
 100 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 ROBERT J. BURDETTE 
 
 Born in Greensboro, Pa., 1844; died in Pasadena, Calif., 
 1914. Removed to Peoria in boyhood. Newspaper writer in 
 Peoria. Later, editor of Burlington, la., Hanukeye, on which he 
 made his reputation as a humorist. Afterwards on Brooklyn 
 Eagle. Began lecturing in 1876. Became licensed minister 
 of the Baptist Church in 1887. Ordained and became pastor 
 of Temple Baptist Church, Los Angeles, Calif., in 1903 ; made 
 pastor emeritus, 1909. Author of Hawkeyetems, Rise and Fall 
 of the Moustache, Sumach Garden, Life of William Penn, 
 Sons of Asaph, Smiles Yoked with Sighs, Chimes from a 
 Jester's Bells, Drums of the 47th, and others. 
 
 ANN CALENDAR BURDICK (MRS. CHARLES S.) 
 
 Born in Peoria, 1875; died, 1914. Author of Thoughts 
 in Verse. Contributor to several magazines of national 
 circulation. 
 
 JULIA KEMPSHALL CLARK (MRS. ANDREW G.) 
 
 Born in Rochester, N. Y., in the 40's. In Peoria since 
 1900. Author of Out of the Ruts. Contributor to religious 
 and other magazines and newspapers. Traveller, art student, 
 and club lecturer. Founder of Inter-Church League, Peoria, 
 and president for ten years. Founder of As You Like it 
 Club, Peoria. 
 
 LAWRENCE WILLARD COCKRELL. 
 
 Born in Harper, Kansas, 1900. In Peoria since 1917. Stu- 
 dent in Peoria High School and assistant in Peoria Public 
 Library. 
 
 ALSACE MIONE CROSBIE. 
 
 Born at Grand Rapids, Mich., 1905. In Peoria since 1914. 
 Student in theological course, Tufts College, Mass. 
 
 THELMA LORRAINE CROSBIE. 
 
 Born in Joliet, 111., 1903. In Peoria since 1914. Student, 
 Peoria High School. Winner of Rice Memorial essay prize on 
 "City Improvements" in 1920 and Woman's Relief Corps 
 essay prize on "Patriotism" in 1917.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 101 
 
 DOROTHY CROWDER. 
 
 Born in Peoria, 1898. Teacher of English, Peoria High 
 School, 1919-21. Doctor's assistant, 1922. Wrote senior class 
 play at Bradley Polytechnic Institute, 1917. 
 
 ELIZABETH WORTHINGTON DENISON. 
 
 Born at Woodstock, Vt., 1836; died, 1920. Resident of 
 Peoria at different periods from 1856 to 1896. Teacher in 
 public schools. Principal of Pettingill Seminary, Peoria. 
 Author of a book, Lucy's Way Out of the Dark, also poems, 
 essays, and short stories. Charter member of Peoria Women's 
 Club and of the Memorial Day Association. 
 
 GEORGE HELGESEN FITCH. 
 
 Born at Galva, 111., 1877; died 1915. Lived in Peoria, 
 1905-1915. Editor, Peoria Transcript, 1905-1913. Author of 
 At Good Old Siiuash, Homeburg Memories, These United 
 States, My Demon Motor Boat, and stories published in The 
 Saturday Evening Post, Collier's, American Magazine, and 
 others. Member of Illinois General Assembly, 1913-1915. 
 Was President of American Press Humorists' Association. 
 
 CLAUDE HOLLAND GAMBLE (Cm GAMBLE) 
 
 Born at Woodhull, 111., 1886. In Peoria since 1915. Editor 
 of Galva News, 1909-1915. Successively reporter, managing 
 editor, and editor The Peoria Journal, 1915-1922. Since July 
 1922, editorial writer, Peoria Evening Star. Contributor to 
 Judge. Member of American Press Humorists' Association. 
 
 MARY ROBINSON GIBSON. 
 
 Born in Peoria, 1870. Teacher in public schools, 1859-1901. 
 Soprano soloist in Peoria churches, 1892-1901. Secretary, West 
 End Literary Club. Author of verses published in local news- 
 papers. 
 
 PHILIP LEIGH GIBSON. 
 
 Born in Peoria, 1902. Newspaper reporter, and then assist- 
 ant publicity manager for the Illinois Traction System. Con- 
 tributor to local newspapers and several magazines. Chair- 
 man of Publicity Committee, Peoria Advertising and Selling 
 Club.
 
 102 PEORIA BOOK OF VEKSE 
 
 RUTH VIRGINIA GIBSON. 
 
 Born in Peoria, 1904. In Circulation Department, Peoria 
 Journal-Transcript. Literary editor of The Manual during 
 part of high school course. 
 
 KATHARINE HART. 
 
 Born in New York City, 1854. Resident of Peoria since 
 1879. Music teacher. Writer of Children's stories, poems 
 and miscellaneous magazine articles. Founder of Amateur 
 Musical Club. Director of Student Department of Amateur 
 Musical Club for eleven years. 
 
 ROBERT GREEN INGERSOLL. 
 
 Born in Dresden, N. Y., 1833; died at Dobb's Ferry, N. Y., 
 1899. Spent childhood in Wisconsin, and after 1843 in Illi- 
 nois. Practiced law in Shawneetown, 111. Removed to Peoria 
 in 1860. Colonel of Illinois cavalry in 1862. Appointed 
 attorney general of Illinois in 1866. Attained national fame 
 as an orator in a nominating speech in favor of James G. 
 Elaine in 1876. Famous as a lecturer and writer against the 
 Christian religion. Author of Gods, Ghosts, Some Mistakes 
 of Moses, Prose Poems, etc. 
 
 JULIA HARRIETTE JOHNSTON. 
 
 Born in Salineville, Ohio, 1849; died in Peoria, 1919. 
 Resident in Peoria, 1859-1919. Writer of religious books, 
 notes on Sunday School lessons and hymns. Author of School 
 of the Master, Bright Threads, Life of Adoniram Judson, 
 Who Was It?, Fifty Missionary Heroes, Our Spanish and 
 Indian Neighbors, and Benedictions of the Bible. For twenty 
 years president of the Woman's Presbyterial Society of Peoria 
 Presbytery. Vice-President Presbyterian Board of Missions of 
 the Northwest. 
 
 WILLIAM JAMES LEACH (REVEREND) 
 
 Born in Callingwood, Ontario, Canada, 1875 ; died in 
 Peoria, 1922. Lived in and near Peoria, 1899-1922. Minister 
 and student; later, minister and newspaper writer. First 
 student in Bradley Polytechnic Institute to win prize in an
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 103 
 
 oratorical contest at University of Chicago. Served in Fifth 
 Illinois Infantry during Spanish-American War. During 
 the World War served with the Y. M. C. A. at Camp Pike 
 and then six months in France with the Second Division, 
 U. S. A. Pastor of Methodist churches in Morton, Pekin, 
 Averyville, and El Paso, 111. Author of Poems and War 
 Letters. 
 
 CAMILLE MAHANNAH. 
 
 Born in Peoria, 1897. Teacher of English in Manual Train- 
 ing High School. Author of a number of short stories and 
 poems. President of Bradley Polytechnic Institute English 
 Club, 1921-22. Winner of Bradley Institute short story con- 
 test, 1917 and 1918. 
 
 FRANCES NANCY MARTIN. 
 
 Born in Peoria, 1868. Musician and writer, especially of 
 children's stories. 
 
 W. KEE MAXWELL. 
 
 Born at Bardolph, 111., 1879. Lived in Peoria for six years. 
 Editor of Peoria Transcript and The Peoria Journal. Left 
 Peoria to become editor of The Akron Times, Akron, Ohio. 
 Writer of stories for magazines of which his best known 
 are The Yellow Peril in The American Magazine and The 
 Baseball Mascot in Collier's. An officer in the American 
 Press Humorists' Association. 
 
 RUSSELL EDWARD McMuRRY. 
 
 Born in Peoria, 1905. Student in Peoria High School. 
 Writer of verses for local newspapers. Circulation manager 
 of the High School Opinion, 1921-22. 
 
 HELEN IDA MORROW. 
 
 Born in Eureka, 111., 1899. Lived in Peoria one year, 
 writing for local newspapers. Returned to Eureka College. 
 Her poem "Rain at Night," published in a book, American 
 Verse. Miss Morrow made the original suggestion that led 
 to the very successful Festival of Poetry held at Eureka in 
 1921. She was secretary of the Festival Association.
 
 104 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 JOHN J. O'KEEFE. 
 
 Born in Ireland, 1855. Lived in Peoria since 1872. Has 
 been an engineer and fireman, and later a special night watch- 
 man for certain homes on Moss Ave. His poems have been 
 published in newspapers in New York, Chicago, and San 
 Francisco, as well as Peoria. 
 
 ERNEST A. PASQUAY. 
 
 Born in Brooklyn N. Y., 1861. Lived in Peoria since 1876. 
 Engaged in the wholesale grocery business. 
 
 SAMUEL PATTERSON PROWSE. 
 
 Born in Greenock, Scotland, 1856; died in Peoria, 1921. 
 Resident of Peoria since 1894. Telegraph editor, Peoria Eve- 
 ning Star; then Collector of U. S. Customs in Peoria; and 
 finally, for several years, librarian, Peoria Public Library. 
 A popular speaker and local writer. 
 
 HARVEY NORMAN RINGEL. 
 
 Born in Peoria, 1903. Student, Peoria High School. 
 
 HOLLAND DEWITTE ROBERTS. 
 
 Born in Springfield, Nebraska, 1895. In Peoria 1899-1916. 
 While in Peoria, a student in Bradley Polytechnic Institute. 
 Later, student at University of Chicago, then in the Army, and 
 now principal of the high school at Arlington Heights, Illinois. 
 Contributor of stories to several magazines. Literary editor 
 of Les Soldats, an A. E. F. magazine in Dijon, France, dur- 
 ing the World War. 
 
 MARK LANGDON ROWELL. 
 
 Born in Winona, Minn., 1890. In Peoria, 1913-1916, as 
 a student and assistant instructor in Bradley Polytechnic In- 
 stitute. Winner of George Fitch Memorial Medal for poetry, 
 1916. Teacher, and mechanical and electrical engineer since 
 leaving Peoria. 
 
 FLORENCE JEFFERS SHEARER (MRS.) 
 
 Born in Henderson, N. Y., 1861. In Peoria since 1920. 
 Contributor of verses to newspapers.
 
 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 105 
 
 ARTHUR GALUSHA SMITH (DR.) 
 
 Born in Morris, Illinois, 1871. In Peoria since 1881. 
 Dentist. Secretary of Illinois Dental Society and editor of 
 its Bulletin. When member of School Board, helped start 
 dental clinic in public schools. Writer on both scientific and 
 literary subjects. Reader, singer, actor. One of the moving 
 spirits in organizing the Peoria Players. 
 
 BESSIE CURRAN SMITH (MRS. ARTHUR G.) 
 
 Born in Delavan, 111., 1877. In Peoria since 1897. Mu- 
 sician. Has been secretary of Peoria Players and of the 
 Amateur Musical Club. Member of Board of Directors of 
 Women's Club, and of the State Art Extension Committee. 
 
 ELLEN GALUSHA SMITH (MRS. WILLIAM HAWLEY) 
 
 Born in Lisbon, 111., 1849; died in 1922. In Peoria from 
 1881 to 1922. Painter. For many years an officer in the 
 Peoria Art League. Charter member of Peoria Women's 
 Club. Writer of essays on philosophical and theosophical 
 subjects. 
 
 WILLIAM HAWLEY SMITH. 
 
 Born in Sunderland, Massachusetts, 1845 ; died in 1922. 
 In Peoria, 1881-1922. Newspaper editor and publisher, manu- 
 facturer, author, lecturer, sociologist, and always a teacher. 
 Author of Promoters, Walks and Talks, and Children by 
 Chance or by Choice; also two notable books on education : 
 Evolution of Dodd and All the Children of All the People. 
 One of the foremost platform speakers of his time. Traveled 
 with Bill Nye one season, 1891-1893. 
 
 JOHN LANCASTER SPALDING (MOST REVEREND) 
 
 Born in Lebanon, Ky., 1840; died in Peoria in 1916. 
 Chancellor of Diocese of Louisville, 1871. Consecrated Bishop 
 of Peoria in 1877. Created titular Archbishop in 1909. 
 Author of Essays on Religion and Art, Essays and Reviews, 
 The Religious Mission of the Irish People, Education and the 
 Higher Life, Things of the Mind, Thoughts and Theories of 
 Life and Education, Opportunity and Other Essays, Religion,
 
 106 PEORIA BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 Agnosticism and Education, Socialism and Labor and Other 
 Arguments, America and Other Poems, The Poet's Praise, 
 Songs, chiefly from the German, and Life of Archbishop 
 Spalding. 
 
 J. MERLE STEVENS (REVEREND) 
 
 Born in Mount Vernon, Iowa, 1868. In Peoria since 1907. 
 Pastor of Union Congregational Church. Lecturer on the 
 Chautauqua platform. Writer of poems for magazines. Au- 
 thor of Shakespeare as a Religious Teacher. President of 
 Allied English Interests of Peoria, 1922. 
 
 JOSEPHINE BOWMAN WETZLER (MRS. T. E.) 
 
 Born in Peoria, 1895. Contributor to local newspapers and 
 other periodicals. 
 
 JULIA PROCTOR WHITE (MRS. CHARLES F.) 
 
 Born in Peoria, 1875. Resident of Peoria, 1875-1891 and 
 since 1900. Always active in the interests of art and better 
 community life. Musician and composer; play actor and 
 writer of plays for children; director of the Recreational 
 Art Studio of Peoria; one of the founders of the Peoria 
 Players and of the Peoria Society of Allied Arts. Has been 
 president of the Peoria Women's Club, an officer in the Free 
 Kindergarten Association, and was one of the founders of the 
 Women's Civic Federation.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF IULINOI9-URBANA 
 
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