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Copyright, 1921
By Thomas F . McCarthy
© GM 6 2 7 7 5 8
IX U G
MI SSING LINKSOTHER THINGSTHE DANGER MARKIT DOESN ’T PAY TO BE TOO
PARTICULARLET’ S GIVE IT TO THEMAUTUMN DAYSSOMETHING ’S ALWAYS MISSINGTHE TEST OF CULTURETHE FIRST ROBINTHAT BREATH OF SPRINGSPRINGING A SPRING SOMETHINGOH , SHAHFRIENDSON ADOPTING A HOBBYTO MY VALENTINEIT ALL DEPENDS UPON THE WEATHERTHOSE PASSING GLANCESTHE SNOWSTORMWHEN THE LEAVES BEGIN TO FALLBACK TO NATURELEAD US NOT INT'O TEMPTATIONLINES ON A DARK KNIGHTA. B.
-ING IN THE KITCHENWI LL SOMEBODY KINDLY REMOVETHE SUNRISEWHY MEN HAVE LEFT HOMETHE DREAMER WAKESODEOUR ALIBISHIVERYFALSE COLORSTO—TWO GUESSESHAS IT EVER OCCU RED TO YOU
ADVENTURES WITH APHRODITEMY SONGTHANKSGIVINGOCTOBER ’ S LOVERAPPRAISALA SIMPLE FLOWERNOC'TURNETRUE POlE
‘TRY
NEW YEARS , 1917-18
SONNETASHES OF LOVEHOPETHE LIGHT OF THE WORLDCONTENTMENTTHE HUNTER’ S MOONCARGOESODE TO THE BIRD ’ S RETURNEYES THAT ARE MISSINGLOVE AND MUSICTHE SOUL OF LOVEEVERYTHI NG GOES UP IN SMOKETHE SOUL ’ S LAST LOVETHE LAST LOVEHOPELESSOLD PU""LE BOOKA WINTRY PRAYERTHE LEAVEN OF TEARSWERE I THE KING OF FAIRYLANDIT GOES BACK TO ITS OWNHER SPIRIT
MISCELLANEOUS MOODSA GYPSY ’ S LONGINGFREEDOMTHE BALM OF TEARSWAITINGBUTTERFLIESSUNSETSAUGUSTMY DREAMS AND ITHE REAL ARISTOCRATTRAGEDYTO A NORTH DAKOTA NIGHTWHEN GYPSIES GO HOMETHE CYNICTO A CALIFORNIA POPPYMOODS (LISTENING TO THE ORCHESTRAPLAY “HOME , SWEET HOME”
)AT THE FEET OF KINGSA PRO-BRITISH KITTENOLD CLOTHESTHE AWAKENING HOURMY COMPANIONS OF THE NIGHTMAN AND HIS FUTURETRANSCIENT MOODS
Go , take this message to her, L ittle Book
Asking her charity the While
Her gay eyes in thy simple pages look,Mayhap in vain , to find a sm ile ;
Let these rhymes trifles caustic critics brave ,Expecting therefrom only scorn as toll ;
But just for you , alone , O ld Pal , I ’ ll save
The great unwritten poems of my soul .
BY WAY OF APOLOGY
Inasmuch as the author prides himselfwith sufficient power of discrimination tojudge poetry from mere verse , he feelsthat , despite all his poetical faults thatcritics may find in this collection, he didnot try to exalt his work by dignifying itwith the name poetry.
” It is merely thatkind of compos ition commonly known as“newspaper verse ,” most of it having beenground out on a typewriter in an editorialroom to top off a daily “colyum
,
” personallyconducted by him . Most of the verses herein appeared in the New Paltz (N. Y .) T imes ,of which he was at one time editor, and inthe Devils Lake Daily J ournal , on which paper he is now earning the price of thedoughnuts which he eats . He feeI S' that if.his sensitive critics wil l look upon the workin its true light, they will accept it for whatit is , and not for what they want it to be .
The author regrets that , due to hastyproof-reading, several typographical errorshave crept into the verses , which have anasty habit of staring at him as the eyes ofdead man do at the man ’ s murderer . Butthe author consoles himself with thethought that such things creep into the bestregulated publications .
—T. F . McC.
Devils Lake , N . D ., J une 1, 1921.
MISSING LINKS
I .
It puzzles me at timesWhich came first ,The tail orThe monkey .
II .
I Wonder,Wlatching people come and go ,If the M issing LinkD id leave only hisTail to propogate the species ;
So many people are like tailsUseful only for waggingAnd hanging ’round .
III .
If only the fittest survive ,What excuse for existeri’ce ,
Frinstance ,
Have landlordsAnd critics ?
IV .
The O ld Stone AgeI s a long ways off"My fame as a poetLikewise .
MISSING LINKS
I would dedicate a bal ladTo Pithycan-thropus ErectusAnd praise him becauseHe left somethingWhereby we could remember himHe never tried to write p oetry .
Ballads writtenTo a woman
’
s eyesTurn tragediesThe While she winksAt the other fel low .
VII .
A good monkey is,I think ,
Adore usefulThan a bad singer
The monkey knows his p l aceAnd stays up there .
VIII .
Evolution isA wonderful thingIt took the LordA mi ll ion yearsTo produce the plumber .
MISSING LINKS
IX.
It is a long stepFrom monkey to man ;It is a short stepFrom man to monkey.
X .
Does the bee stingThe flowerIt kisses the whileIt sips the honey ?I have known ofOther kissesThat carry their stings
XI.
When men have nothingTo fight forThere wil l be no more wars.
But womanWe have with us always .
XII.
There are three periodsIn the life of a day
,When I muse overLife and its mysteriesFrinstance ,Lying in bed in the morning,Sitting in the barber ’
s chair,And getting
‘
my shoes shined .0
MISSING LINKS
XIII .
To be broken-hearted ,Yet hide your tears ;To be afraid of death ,Yet flaunt your fears ;To be pennilessYet sing a song ;To be with crooks,Yet do no wrong ;To love a woman ,Yet know she hates ;Smile at one griefWhile another waits
To be al l of thisI s part of the planG od had in mindWhen He visioned a man .
XIV
Love is so strange a thingTo some men ,That they mistake itFor poison ivyAnd run away .
To be a readerOf the world ’
s best booksI s to be in partnershipWith God .
MISSING LINKS
XVI
I could be a tra itorTo many things .
Frinstance
To a bottl e of Scotch ,To a loveless kiss ,To a purse of goldThese bring tears .
But my countryM akes me gayWith patriotism ,
And the j oyOf duty.
No man can be a traitorTo such happ iness.
XVII .
I often wonder,While she plays dreamsOn the piano ,If her sou l sa ilsWith the songsThe music singsInto the mysterious,Invisibl e realmsOf the unseen world
Or does she merelyStrike a chord ,And let it go itsUnseen wayAlone , dying, forgotten ?
MISSING LINKS
XVIII .
When you feelThe world has turnedAgainst youTurn aroundAnd watch the sunrise .
XIX .
My town has many thingsOf which I am proud ;Frinstance ;The sunrise ,Moonlight night-s,Lavender sunsets .
And some peopleWho love life so muchThat they smileWhen one greets them .
XX .
Loving a womanMerely because
’
her eyes are blue ,I s l ike drinking home brewMerely because it has been colored .
XXI .
Some people haveCombination locks on their hearts ;Then ,Lose the comb inations .
MISSING LINKS
XXII .
She said she would
Like to sail the Nil e
I heard of a woman once
Who sail ed the Nile ,Broke a Roman
’
s heart
And lost an empire
The Ni le puts
Bad notions into
Folks ’ heads.
XXIII .
Dreams,dreams ; dreams
Fairy tales re-l ived ;Sheheres‘
ade re-tel lingHer king an endless story ;Knights riding out to combat ;Romeo re-loving Juliet ;Antony re-vamped by C l eopatra ;Rome rising and fall ing ;Pirate gold again dug up ,And men dyingTo make a woman smile
Tha t is how I felt ,These things fi l led my soul ;Yet I was sober .The orchestra was "playingThe BarcaroleFrom the Tales
'
of Hoffman .
MISSING LINKS
XXIV
A little , green , clay BuddhaUpon the table stood ;Breathing burning incense ,As l ittl e Buddhas should .
I gazed and sort of wondered ,How like that thing is
"
man "C lay statue , soul but incense ,Burning for a sp an .
C lay statue , yet a gypsy,Almost a l iving thing ;He tries to dance , to love , to kiss ,And even tries to sing.
And when the burning incenseDies and fades away ,The statue falls to piecesLike that littl e god of clay .
XXV
He fought his country ’s battl es
,
He was tall, I gawky , l ean ,
His uniform too l arge ,His manner rough ,His voice gruff,His stride ungainly,YetHis death was graceful ,Harmoniously musical ;His shroud was wovenOn the loom of Duty,And was a perfect fit .
MISSING LINKS
XXVI .
Some men drink to be merry ,Others to forget their troubles ,While stil l othersMerely to get drunk .
XXVII .
Moths fly aboutThe electric l ights ,
‘But never get shocked .
Men fly about the lightThat lies in woman ’
s eyes ,And become electrocuted ,Or something .
XXVIII .
When a man falls in loveHe never knows whetherHe
’
s bound heavenwardOr hellward .
He soon gets married
And learns the truth .
XXIX .
It is mighty hard toKnow one ’
s pl aceIn the eternal schemeOf thingsWhen the other fel low alwaysMarries the girl .
MISSING LINKS 11
XXXIII .
A man does three
Desperate things
In a lifetime ,Frinstanc e
G ets born ,Falls in love
,
And drinks home brew .
XXXIV .
It has long beenA mooted question ,Which eyes are theMore beautiful ,Brown or b lue .
However, it is merelyA matter of circumstance .
XXXV .
Treasure Isl andI s a fairyland ,Completely surroundedBy dreams.
The only people whoFind it are those whoTry to makeTheir dreams come true .
MISSING LINKS
XXXVI .
Her smile was so warmTh at it would meltThe coldest heart
But it was an
Absolute failure0
Trying to thaw the
Ice in the milk bottl e .
XXXVII .
When I would humble myself,I go out into the night
And look up at the stars,
And revel in their infinite
D istance and glorious
Lustre .
Then I go to sl eep ,Thinking how small
An atom is man ,How weak the light of fame .
And how soon
I s he forgotten .
The stars are l aughingAt our sense of
Self-importance .
MISSI NG LINKS 13
XXXVIII .
Marriage does one
Of two things for a man
It makes a better man of him,
Or drives him to drink
But the driving is notAs good as it used to be .
XXXIX .
I l ike to think of my past
As a book tha t has been
Read and pl aced back
On the shelf.
I take it down occasional ly
To have it rebound ;But the binder cannot
Erase the tear stains
On some of the p ages,Nor repla ce the pages
Of lost opportunities
Which have been torn out .
He merely makes the book
Look respectabl e alongside
Those of today and the
Hopes of tomorrow .
MISSING LINKS
XL .
Some men fal l in love
Bec ause they can ’t help it,And others because
They want someone to
Darn their socks .
But all roads. lead
To matr lmony .
XLI .
Th ere are two occasions
When a man will m ake
A fool of himself,Frinstance ,
When a woman is laughing
At his antics,And when he is
Drinking Home Brew .
XLII .
Making the whole worldDry might haveSerious con-sequenc es .
Consider the predicamentOf the moonNobody wil l live on it .
MISSING LINKS 15
THERE IS NO CHOICE .
She asked us which we preferred ,A bottl e of wineOr a woman ’
s love .
We answeredThat when oneMust decide’T
’
wixt love and dutyHis duty comes first .
Strange to say ,
She hasn ’ tSpoken to us since .
HOPE AND OTHER THINGS .
We told her weWrote poetry to the moon .
“When the moon isNot shining ,What do you do ?”
She asked demurely .
“W 6 11,”
We told her,“We write it anyway ,Hoping the moonWil l shine again
“There a iwaysHas been an
Excuse for poetry .
16 MISSING LINKS
NOW WHAT WOULD YOU DO IN
CASE LIKE THAT"?
We were d iscussingC ircuses and theatres .
We told herWe should like toTravel with a c ircus .
Oh , yes,She said demurely,I always l ikedThe c l owns .
WOMAN ’
S WILES .
There was l aughter in her eyes,
And a smile upon her lips ;She was very j ol lyAbout somethingShe was reading in a letter .
I made bold toAsk her why so merry ?
She turned her eyesOn me and smiled"“This boob saysIn his l etterThat I am the onlyGirl in the world .
Whereat ISm i led with her .
MISSING LINKS 17
RESEMBLANCES .
The wind has a wierd
Tale
Sounds, so to speak ,Like a politica l
Campaign
It blows ,And blows ,And blows ,
It says nothing .
HOW TO BE CLEVER THOUGH
OTHERWISE .
Various peopleHave various talentsSome dance well ,Others are apt at bridge ;Still othersAre good conversational ists ,And a few areReally entertaining .
We are contentTo watch theOthers show off
Th eir tal ents.
That ’s the best thingWe do.
MISSING LINKS 19
THERE ARE SEVERAL HEREAFT ‘ERS .
We were talkingAbout spiritism ,
And the astral p laneAnd the cosmos,And all that sort of thing .
“Can you converse
With some of my dead
Ancestors ?
She asked us .
We told her we could
If we were properly
Introduced to them .
That ’
s for
You to arrange ,She said
She didn ’t tel l
U s where they are ,And lest we
Perchance name
The wrong place ,We thought
We had pursued
The subj ect
Sufiiciently .
MISSING LINKS
WHY MEN DO THIS OR THAT .
Some men sing becauseTh ey feel that way,Others because theyCan ’t help it,And stil l othersBecause theyDon ’t know any better
THINGS THAT CRAWL.
She is a very sensibleYoung woman ;She told me thereAre only two thingsOf which she is afraid
Men andRattl esnakes .
POOR RICH MEN .
She said she wantsTo marry
’
a millionaireThat he must beVery , very old ,With one foot in the grave .
But she is
Very pretty,and
Men like thatHave weak eyesightWhich makes themPoor indeed .
OTHER THINGS
THE DANGER MARK .
She asked him why, with cold disdain ,He flew from her embrace ,
And why he sang no sweet refra inUnt"her lovely face .
She asked him why he would evadeThe smiles her eyes impart .
(She feared he was a bit afraidThat l ove would break his heart .)
It is not all of love to kiss,He answered patiently
,
Nor all of love to feel a b l issIn amorous melody
Some love thee for thine azure eyes,And some thy lips would sing"
And to thy hair some breatheth sighs ,Some love thy laughter ’
s ring
Whenas on .thee mine eyes doth gaze ,How far the distance be ,
My soul with love is all ablazeAnd this sufliceth me .
And thus safe distance I shal l seek ,
Nor care if thou dost scoffI ’ l l kiss thee not on lips nor cheek ,Lest al l thy paint come off .
”
OTHER THINGS 27
I prithee that thou , in pure sympathybring
Som e Mule , or Home Brew—or any oldthing
LET ’S GIVE IT TO THEM .
Such ai sl ender type of -maiden ,Hair as black as any night ;And her sl ender form arrayed inFlimsy dreams of purest white ;
Her eyes are big , bright blueish things,Her mouth ’
s a cupid ’
s bow ;Her voice is music when she sings ;Her cheeks with tint aglow"
A tiny part of God’
s big plan ,A blushing rose among the weeds ,And yet she drives the biggest manAfie l d
’
to do great deeds .
To think that such a l ittl e'
thl ngShould cause so much unrestAmong us men , from slave to king’
Tis a woman ’
s world at best .
A UTUMN DAYS .
Gold across the sunset sky ,
Cool blows the breath of morn ,Summer birds now southward flyAnd thus is Autumn born .
Forgotten summer with its heat ,And still ed is P
’
luvius ’ thunder ;
28 OTHER THINGS
Refil l ed with life are folks we meet
And old il ls torn asunder.
A littl e spel l of days l ike these
Of sunsets draped in gold,
Of zephyrs dancing through the trees ,Of j oy’
s unsung, untold .
They ’re but a little interlude,
A respite fil led with thril ls ,Between hot Summer ’
s desuetude
And Winter ’
s winds and chil ls.
SOMETHING ’S ALWAYS MISSING .
He loves her face , angelic ,Loves the dreamy look that l ies
D eep down within those j ewels
God had given her for eyes .
He loves her sylph-l ike figure ,And the silkness of her hair ;He tells us there ’
s no woman
That with her can quite compare .
She ’
s beautiful and brilliant ,Yet simple are her frocks ;And he loves her, aye , adores her
But she wouldn ’t darn his socks
OTHER THINGS 29
THE TEST OF CULTURE
She may have eyes that sparkleLike Aldebaran at night ;Her lips may be inviting ,And her hair a gorgeous sight .
She may be versed in fiction ,Or adept at weaving rhyme ;She may be quite romantic ,And her thoughts may be subl ime .
She may be wondrous, queenly,A blushing rose , perchance“But listen , kid , now tell me ,Can the Jane you speak of dance ? ”
THE FIRST ROBIN .
How l onesome must the robin beWho pipes his song of spring ,In North Dakota ’
s wintry MarchNo worms nor anything .
I think he shows poor judgmentIn his wild desire to fly ;He ought to wait ’til spring 1s here ,Say , some time in July
THAT BREATH or SPRING .
There is a breath of springtimeIn the circumamb ient air ;
30 OTHER THINGS
But Spring is such a blustererHe blows things ev ’ry where .
He blows my l id ’way down the street ;‘
My lady ’
s equipoiseI s much disturbed by Spring ’
s strongbreath
(Her hosiery makes much noise . )
O ld Spring is such a blustererI fear he ’ l l be my death ;He blows and blows and blows and
blowsI wish he ’d hold his breath .
SPRINGING A SPRING SOMETHING
ABOUT CLEAN-U P WEEK .
His name was Galileo
And he dreamed some funny dreams,About the stars and planets
And the sun ’
s unending beams .
But Since he was a dreamer ,Of the vis ionary kind ,
Others ridiculed h im
They were ignorant and blind .
With vision telesc opic
Galil eo swept the skies,
OTHER THINGS 31
And thereby cleaned the cobwebs fromMen ’
s“
superstitious eyes .
And thus the dirt of ages ,And the ignorance
,it seems ,
Were swept away forever byO l d
uG a l il eo
’
s dreams .
And here in this old town , of course ,We need not sweep the skies
To find a world of beauty , forBefore our doors it l ies .
And yet we m ay not see I t,Nor be sure that it is here ,
I f it is hidden"underneathThe rubbish of a year .
So while we ’re dreaming April dreams,And while the birdies sing
Let ’
s G a l il eonize the town ,And sweep the dear old thing.
OH , SHAH"There ’
s an Oriental somethingHov
’
ring’round my realm of dreams ;
A something sort 0’ mysticalSo strange and yet it seemsTo bring ba ck thoughts that sometim eIn the distant long agoI was a Persian somethingAnd I sang a bal lado
32 OTHER THINGS
Unto a liquid somethingWith a taste that seemed to lastI drank it a l l (the liquid )In that bygone day that ’s past
I wonder what returns such thoughtsUnto my rea lm of dreams ;They do not seem to fit at al lIn prohibition schemes
Th ere ’
s an Oriental somethingNow , there it comes againI wonder if I was a ShahAnd wined with Musse lmen
There ’
s an Oriental somethingOh , doggone it , what a foolAm I to let it get my goatSay , boy , unhitch tha t mu l e l"
(*A North Dakota drink noted for
kick . )
FRIENDS .
Her eyes were haunted with a smile ,And round her little lips
A teasing something did beguile ,As wine your senses grips .
Her hair had all the softness of
The locks of Priam’
s maid ;
OTHER THINGS 33
It seemed quite"
natural to loveA lady thus arrayed .
And I did love her—verilyI almost told her so
(Ye Gods, to think that men like meSuch si l l iness should Show. )
For she was such a little thing ;"uite young—yet , wise , at that ;
I held her close , to "
hear her singThis l ittle pussy-cat.
ON ADOPTING A HOBBY.
Lord Byron swam the Hellespont
To prove Leander could ,For Byron had to pull the stunt
To make his verses good ;Bill Shakespeare had a penchant ,So his biographers say ,
Of poaching on his neighbors
In a reckless sort 0’
way ;
Tom Moore , who used to tilt the gl ass
The while he ’d poetize ,Had something of a weakness for
The light in woman ’
s eyes ;They tell us Keats, when Fate had c lipped
His wings before she oughter
Desired the future to recall
OTHER THINGS 35
Over the rol ling precipice of
Your alabaster brow"
I l ove you
You , Whose silvery voic e
Gives warmth to the cool winter
It strikes, and far surpasses
The liquid warblings of
Summer ’
s sweete st birds"
Yea , I love youFa irest of all the fair ,You , whose youthful heartAnd gay young soulMake l ight the burdens of the Universe ,I love you"
And you are al l I say you are ;To me the sun rises in the lustrousBril liance of your wistful eye ;The moon has not a greater grace,Than that which outl ines theDelicate countour of your countenance .
You are the most beautiful thingThe world has ever seen
With a l l the littl e qu l v’rings of
My throbbing heart,
With al l the eloquence at my command ,With all the fervor of a lovefu l sou l ,And with all the hope of
36 OTHER THINGS
One whose love is real ,I send you this , my valentine
But, for the love of M ike ,What ’
s your name,
And where do you live ?
ITALL DEPENDS U PON THE
WEATHER .
Oh , for the l ife of the gypsy ,,To wander at wi l l o
’ er the l and ;With never a sorrow or worryA gypsy so care-free and tanned .
I ’d sing to the God of Creation
(Were I but a gypsy and free)A song fi l led with wildest elation
(That is, if He’d listen to me .)
And b eing a gypsy and wand’
ringAt wil l o ’ er the fields and the woods ,
I ’d l augh at the high cost of livingFor Nature delivers the goods .
Yet, ere I began my crusadin’
,
(That is , as a gypsy , you know)I ’ d corral a wee , Winsome maiden ,And make her a real gypsy beau .
And rhymes I wou ld p luck from theflowers,
OTHER THINGS 37
An epic I ’d sl ice from the dew ;And these would my love serve at lunch
eonA veritable gypsical stew- o
We ’d sip from the clover its honey ?
(That is, when we’ve learned how ’
tis
done )We ’d never need hanker for money
,
And clothes la Po iret we would shun .
Oh , for the life of a gypsy ,‘
To wander at will o ’ er the,land
Where ’
s the maid who is wil l ing to wanderAnd live the free life I have pl anned ?
3?
Yet,girlie , while thinking it over,
’
In thoughts more prosa ic and pla in ,My gypsica l wanderings would oft bePostponed on account of the rain
THOSE PASSING GLANCES .
I looked into her dreamy eyes,’
And she returned the glance ;And yet , I should not dare surm iseShe liked the circumstance .
For I have never met the maidBy formal etiquette
And yet her eyes seemed unafraidTo speak when mine they met.
38 OTHER THINGS
And now the thing I ’d like to knowI s what she said to me
The while her eyes looked at me so
Was it disdain or glee ?
Yet,fearing lest the truth might hurt
I ’ l l take not any chanceTo quizz her , but will keep alertFor j ust a pass ing gl ance .
And while her voice to friends will speakOf men
“and things and books ,Her dreamy eyes I e ’ er shal l seekAnd talk to her in looks .
THE SNOWSTORM .
If I were a little bird ,I ’d find a winged mate ,
And then we two (upon my word )Would ’
migitel y migrate .
Or, if I were a fuzzy bear,When winter ’round doth rol l ,
I should worry , I should care
I’
d crawl into my hole .
But since I ’m not a fuzzy bear ,Nor "any winged thing ;
I ’ l l shiver in . the wintry air ,And whistle for the Spring .
OTHER THINGS 39
Whenas in furs my lady goes ,Betogged therewith from head to toes ,Meseems she looks a wee bit wild ,(Albeit she is very mild )And makes me think how Darwm onceWas hight a fool and eke a dunceFor tell ing us we all once
‘
woreA suit of furs—and nothing more.
Nature has painted the beautiful l eavesA beautiful color of brown ;
Yet, Oh , how my sensitive soul sad lygrieves
To see all those leaves fal ling down .
The tree looks so sad when he ’
s strippedof his coat,
That gold colored coat w r a p p e daround ,
Naked he stands , whil e o’ er the lawn
floatsHis leaves with their rustling sound .
I love the brown leaves, and their shadesmake me glad ;
I write of their beauty with ease ;But raking them up on the lawn makes me
madI wish they would stay. on the trees
40 OTHER THINGS
LEAD US NOT . INTO TEMPTATION .
Her eyes were beautiful b lue thingsThat looked into , mine and smiled ;I saw a strange story in them ,
And as I peered deeply into her soulMy eyes suddenly dropped ,And I saw her lipsAh , my Soul , such lips ;They were like a bottl e of rare old wine ,Uno'pene
’
d , yet inviting
Ah , forgive me , I was speakingOf her blue eyesI looked again into them to findThe love story of the agesIt was there ;Long I looked and read the taleAgain I saw C l eopatra lostIn the arms of Antony ;Dante wooed his heavenly Beatrice ;E loise her Abelared kissedThe whil e I looked ,And Romeo smiled in Juliet ’
s eyesSuch scenes saw I withinHer beautiful blue eyes
But again my gaze dropped ,It met her red lips
I forgot for the moment the b lue
In her eyes, the ancient tales of love
That hid beneath their depths ,
OTHER THINGS 41
Gone were Antony and his Nil ish vamp ,Forgotten Abelard and RomeoAll I saw was l ips , l ipsWell
,I j ust kissed them ,
Tha t ’s all .
LINES ON A DARK KNIGHT .
Oh , would I were a knight and bold ,Accoutred for the fray ,
And“
things were as they were of oldWhen knights at arms did play .
I ’d search me out a Winsome dame ,.And pledge her to my heart ;Then off
' I ’d speed with eyes Jaflame,
And prove my knightly art .
And when I ’ve sl am‘
a million knightsAnd spoiled their knightly ire ,
I ’d speed me back to Love ’
s delights,fAnd claim my heart ’
s desire .
And if the damsel failed , forsooth ,To love me as she ought,
I ’d eat her where she stood , in truth ,To sooth my k nightly wroth .
So , l ove , I hope you’ l l cease to try
To live as folks of old ,And thank your lucky stars that IAm not a knight so bold .
OTHER THINGS 43
WILL SOMEBODY KINDLY REMOVE
THE SUNRISE .
I love to watch the big red sunSink down beyond the west,
Awakening within my soulI ts sweetest dreams and best .
But when the same sun in the mornArises in the east,
Awakening my s l eepy soul ,I hate the big red beast .
WHY MEN HAVE LEFT HOME .
The O lympic charms of Venus
"Shot an arrow through our heartWhenas that c lass ic beautyStarting vamping as an art
And then the Trojan HelenBumped us with her winning smile ,
And C l eopatra vamped us
As we sailed the ancient Nil e .
And to our cal l MonasticE lois her love would write ,
And on the streets of FlorenceWe were vamped by B’
trice right ;The lady known as JulietWas a wonder as a vamp ,
And with the wild DuBarryThe Parisian streets we ’d tramp ;
44 OTHER THINGS
We never can forget the wayPriscilla carried on
The time she pulled that vamping stuffOn M i les and poor old John ;
And yet, we have survived the j oltsT hese dames our hearts have vext ;And when the l ast has vamped us cl eanWe ’re ready for the next .
THE DREAMER WAKES .
My soul in dreamy moods is oftim es lost,And those are times when I could crave
to beRemote from worldly things—Just to be
tossedUpon the bil lows of my m em
’
ry’
s mysticsea ,
Where sail serenely tales of ages past"Of knights who died to make a woman
smile ,Of conquering kings who peaceful lands
harrasst,How Egypt ’s queen a Roman did begu il e ,How Ceaser headlong plunged thru
bar’
bric landAnd died a martyr to ambition ’
s’
lust ;How Roland fel l , to keep his chief
’
s commands ,
And how Ganelon broke his sacred trust ;In sooth , my soul
,when in these dreamy
(moods
OTHER THINGS 45
Gets lost amidst the myriad wondrousthings i
In history ’
s golden past" The deadlyf eud
And noble deeds, and loves the poet sings
I lost myself yestreen in such a maze
Of thoughts, fantastic , of the deathlesspast.
Rej oicing in the thoughts that I shal l raiseMyself beyond this wordly il l-made cast ,This swirling , struggling , human mass,That feeds its transient body and forgetsThe soul needs food , that it might better
passInto its cosm ic p l ane without regrets .
And while I thus was dreaming peace‘
fully,Banqueting my soul on feasts sublime ,A voic e rang out that made my sweet
dreams flee ,And brought me back to this decadent
time ;It was an awful thing , he said— a cruel
thrust,It made me feel my soul had drunk the
the dregsOf bitter wines . These words at me he
thrust "
“Say, you out there ; how shal l , Ifry your eggs ?”
OTHER THINGS
ODE (H C . Li)
I hail thee , wondrous creature ,Thy symmetry of feature
Evokes my pra ise ;Thou sweet one , gold-c omplected
M ine eyes have ne ’ er detected
More charming Maize .
Dear one , I adore thee ,My
‘
sou l pines only for thee
But from afar ;For thou a re high above me ,I know I should not love thee ,
Thou holy star .
Time was , once , thou sweet one ,When I could gayly eat one
of thee a day ;But now I must resist thee ,Unless the Boss a ssist me ,
And raise my pay.
But , dear one , yet I’m hoping
We two may be eloping,And leave this l ow rut ;
And when I do possess thee ,I ’ l l kiss thee and caress thee
Thou precious Doughnut .
OTHER THINGS 47
OUR ALIBI .
O ld Horace tuned the Latin lyre ;And Homer ’
s songs found rootIn Grecian gods ’ heroic fire ;And Ovid piped the lute .
In anci’ent Rome old Virgil sangHow D ido cut a caper ;
And Sappho Lesbos ’ tocsin rang ,And burned the midnight taper .
’Twas easy,now , I wil l maintain ,
For these great guys,poetic ,
To sing where summers never waneThat ’ s why they were aesthetic .
But place that gang in this cold cl ime ,There ’
s fly few rythmic splintersAesthetic things our souls fosakeIn North Dakota winters.
SHIV‘ERY .
I passed her by upon the street,
And she was young and fair ;My furtive glance she 'sought to greetWith one long
,i cy stare
But now I feel , l ike any crook ,
Punished for being bold ;For when
'she handed me that look
I caught an awful cold .
8 OTHER THINGS
FALSE COLORS.
Whenas my lady paints her cheek ,
And powders up her nose ;( I know I should not deign to speakOf trifles such as those ) ,She maketh me to wonder whyShe thinketh she deceivesMy own at times observing eyeIn sooth her action grieves .
And feeling thus , I oftimes think ,(Efsoons it makes m e start)That mayhap with the bl ackest inkShe painteth e
’ en her heart .
TO—Two gusses .
”
Whena s my lady turns her backAnd sm il eth not on me
It maketh me to grieve , a l ack ,O ’ er such discourtesy .
And yet , mayhaps, she doeth right
Whenas she acteth so,
For I am such a sil ly Wight ,I make her angry grow.
For when she giveth me a smile ,I bl useth with surprise ;
And speechless stand , and dumb the while
I basketh'in her eyes .
OTHER THINGS 49
She knoweth well What weak returnHer smiles thus find in me ;
Such wondrous things , they say , shouldearn
Spontaneous rhapsody .
But I should worry (are you W1se ? )Another now I woo ;
And does SHE smile and roll her eyes ?Well
, yes ; I’ l l say she do .
HAS - IT EVER OCCURRED TO YOU ?
When with your soul you wanderPaths where only nymphs have trod ,And see , perchance , along your way ,Wild Pan or some such god ;When , rising with the dawning ,You would kiss the gl ist
’ning dew ,
And feel the sun has risenFor no other man but you ;When you see , as sinks the sunshineO ’ er a bank of sapphire clouds
,
The night stea l in and wrap the worldIn star-dekt
,moonlit shrouds ;
When naught upsets your happiness,Nor anything beguilesThe j oy within your bosom ,
And men have naught but smiles ;When nothing matters much to you ,No sorrows find a p l aceWithin your bouyant consc iousness ;
ADVENTURES
WITH
APHRODITE
MY SONG .
I sing to the starsAnd receive no reply ;
I sing to the moon ,And the moon gives a sigh .
Yet I sing unto theeAnd the angels above ,
In sweet harmony,Carol of love .
Then the stars and the moonRepeat the refrain ;
For soon, yea ,
too soon ,Comes the end of the strain .
So , sweet , l et us singWhile the song ’
s in the air ;For love , when a wing,Hath no moments to spare .
THANKSGIVING .
While al l the world is thanking G odFor peace and rest from war,I , too , am thankful for that and other
thingsFor peace and liberty ;Peace for . the suffering mu ltitudes of
Europe ;Liberty to live and loveAs the soul aspireth.
56 ADVENTURE-S WITH APHRODITE
OCTOBER ’
S LOVER .
He loves her in a sweet October wayAnd to the m em
’
ry of her p arting smileHe loves to linger , as the meonOn Autumn nights doth hover lovinglyUnto her Earth , quite j ealous of the rising
April ’s l over, in the fire of Spring,Loves while the Springtime lasts,And e ’ en in his excess consumesThe fire of love ; But he who in the AutumnOf his l ife seeks l bve and finds it ,Loves constantly unto the end , unmindfulOf the winter , pass ionless and coldAnd long and full of biting bl asts .
And just because he loved her
sweet October wayShe called him her October Lover .
APPRAISAL .
Wha t would I g1ve for one hour’
s
your arms ?Gold without measure ?
A j oyful song ?A lover ’
s kiss ?
NayThe world holds no treasureLarge enough to pay the priceOf an hour in HeavenLike Love itself,
’tis priceless .
ADVENTURES WITH APHRODITE 57
A LITTLE FLOWER .
A littl e flower’
s a simple thing
To leave behind as a parting token ;It hath no voice wherewith to sing ,Nor words to soothe a heart that ’s
broken .
To some ’
tis but a budding thought
That poets weave into a story ;And some have with its petals wrought
A wreath to symbolize their glory .
And yet , the flower she l eft with meHath in its soul a sweeter pleasure ;
A symbol of the memoryOf hours that brought us Love ’
s fu l l
measure .
A little flower’
s a s1mpl e thingTo leave behind ; and yet a l ot
Of hope may ’round its petals clingWhen ’
tis a blue Forget-me-not .
NOCTURNE .
could not deem that'
day comp lete
I f at the end thereof
fail ed to send to thee , my sweet,
Some message of my love .
ADVENTURES WITH APHRODITE 59
NEW YEARS , 19 17 -18 .
Farewel l , O ld Seventeen
Thou wert my friend at times and yet
Thou caused me many pangs of grievouspa in .
Dost thou recal l how oft thy dragginghours
Compelled my soul postpone some hopedfor j oy ?
How dragged thy weary days the whilesome sweet
D ivine and promised happ iness loomed upafar ?
Ah , dear old Seventeen ; full oft would I
Have cut thy pearly hours in halves tospeed
Me to my love or bring my love to me .
Farewell , old Seventeen
And , yet, despite how thy sl ow draggingtime
Had tortured and assail ed my , restlessheart ,
D espite how weary were those days and
nights of thineWhen sun nor moon nor stars cou ld peer
withoutThe dismal clouds that dropped to earth
In chil ly rains ; despite how slow
60 ADVENTURES WITH APHRODITE
And endless seemed the hours of somesleepl ess night,
Causing me to rise stil l weary with themorn
I loved thee ; and , now , since thou art gone
I ’
d cal l thee back , had I the power, andlive again
Those weary hours—if j ust to have oncemore
That single hour of happiness thou gavestme
Upon a cer t ain glorious moonlit night .
Farewell , old Seventeen
Now thou art gone , and I am left to find
In thy success or something that, perchance ,
I missed in my anxiety to outlive thee ;Some golden opportunity thou offered m e,
Which I negl ected while I e ’ en pursued
Some phantom plea sure shorter lived than
thou .
And yet, old Seventeen , if thy new born
son
Can give me but one thousandth part of all
The wondrous j oys thou gave , I’d hail him
Worthy of his fleeting task ; and thank
him
And thee , and all the years to come ,
ADVENTURES WITH APHRODITE 61
Eor every golden hour, for every winged
minute which
Their coming brings and going takes
away .
SONNET .
’Twere sweet to love were loving a l l thebliss
That poets in their dreamy moods dothsmg,
But I have found that they who lingeringcling
To Love ’
s short-l ived delights, its fleetinglkiss,
A l ot of hoped-for happ iness doth missBy over-zealous chasing of the thing ,Which turns upon them with a deathly
stingYet men have staked their al l for such as
this .
And so I say that happy IS the man
Who holds his burning passions in his
breast ,Nor let a woman ’
s laugh upset his years,But merely lives his own
’
allotted span
And only hoping love may change hisplan
To hope is happiness ; to win brings tears .
62 ADVENTURES WITH APHRODITE
ASHES OF LOVE .
He loved a woman once and putHis passion in a song ;
The woman soon forgot him , butThe m em
’
ry lingered long .
And to that mem’
ry stil l he singsThe same songs as of yore ;
But yet no longer ’
round them clingsThe fire that once they bore .
And now these throbbings of his mindUnto the flames are tossed .
I n h opes that in their fire~they ’ l l find
The warmth her soul has lost .
HOPE .
The bee to the flower comethThe sun at dawn to the sea ,
The moon at eve to the heavens,But never my Love to me "
The hum of the bee is mournful ,The sun casts a gloom o ’ er the sea,
The moon is a ghostly spectreWhen Love cometh not to me"
Yet e ’ er does the sad sea hope forThe balm of the morning sun ,
And the moon in patience awaiteth‘
The c louds of the night to shun .
ADVENTURES WITH APHRODI TE
The bee ne ’ er tires of seeking,The nectar in some sweet flow
’
r
And I know that she is c oming
,Oh , sweet is that promised hour"
THE LIGHT OF THEWORLD .
How cheerless would the long night be ,
How endlessly long drawn ,If in the east we failed to see
The l ight of spreading dawn .
That life would be a useless thing
,I f through its darkened" night
,
We felt no dawn would come to bringLove ’
s gloom-dispel ling light .
CONTENTMENT .
Lost‘
in a haze of moonlight ,N0sound
.
save the rustl ing trees ,O ’ er him the moon-dimmed starlight,
,He wandered and dreamed at his ease.
He wa s not alone in his roaming ,A spirit was a lways near
A love that died in the gloaming ;Drowned in a hopel ess tear .
And"yet that spirit is sweeterAnd many have loved like this
Than if, in the night, he could greet herAnd bury his love in a kiss.
64 ADVENTURES WITH APHRODITE
THE HUNTERS ’ MOON .
What do they hunt when the Hunters ’
Moon
Doth brighten the earth and the sky ?
Do " they ride to the woods to a hunting
tune ,To the game dogs ’ howling cry ?
Do they frighten the rabbit that he must
run
Al l aimlessly here and there ;Do the raccoon ’
s eyes stare into a gun
Do the wild b irds shake in their lair ?
There may be men who do these things
When stars , l ike D ian’
s shone ,Stick their toes through the white that
,clings
To the sky in the Hunters’
Moon .
But lovers , like you and me , my dear,Hunt not , on nights l ike these ,
The woods ’
wee folks nor bring a fear
To birds in their nesting trees .
Yet we hunt,in the Hunters ’ Moon ,
We find our game in its beams ;We ride to the woods to a hunting tune ,And hunt Love ’
s golden dreams.
ADV ENTURES WITH APHRODITE 623
CA'RGOES .
East where the sun is rising o ’ erA sea of gossamer
Sails a fairy ship that ’s fil l edWith dreams of lavender.
I t ist sail ing meward , andUnless it strike a shoal ,
I know that it will anchorIn the harbor of my sou l .
And I shall claim the fairy Ship,
As all the pirates doYet all its dreams of l avenderI shall consign to you .
And when you take the cargo from
,Benea th the barque’
s broad beams,I ’ l l sail again and bring you backAnother load of dreams .
ODE TO THE BIRD ’S RETURN .
Come back , oh , wandering Gypsy Bird ,And sing your songs to me ;
Come back,for there ’
s a welcome word
Awaiting here for thee .
You left us when the w1nter’
s chil lsMade safe your warmer goal ;
Your leaving brought a frost that kil lsThe roses in my soul .
ADVENTURES WITH,APHRODITE 67
LOVE AND MUSIC
As Omar in an Oriental moodAsserted that the Grape was but a snare ,And cha l lenged God to name who placed
it there ,I also ask , although in accents rude ,Who S
’
ent us Love? I s it a poisoned foodThat tasted once seems not to even spareThe strongest hearts, which break , and
n ever dareTo seek again its melancholy mood ?
I l ike to think’
tis but a winged thingTha t holds
,us for a while , as in a spell ,
When all is good , nor anything is wrong ;And sad are they who let the Scarab ’
s
stingSink deep into their hearts ; for heed ye
well ,Love ’
s born of music ; dies when ends thesong .
THE SOUL OF LOVE .
He fell in love with a fairy queenWho reigned in realms above the clouds ;Whose vesture was a shimmering sheen ,And his, rough raiment l ike grim shrouds .
Her castle was a place of dreams,Where nothing crude could enter inHis home a hut with rough hewn beams,No -hope had he a queen to win .
6 8 ADVENTURES YVI TH APHRODITE
And year by year, the while she ru ledIn queenly grace her dreams ’ domain
,
The fire within his heart was cooledBut he wa s ne ’ er himself "again .
That part of him which was his soul ,The thing unseen by worldly men ,He sent to her ; she kept the whole ,And never sent it back again .
And now he’
s waiting for that time ,When as the rest of him has flownThe upward path to her to climb ,Cl aiming wha t was once his own .
EVERYTHING GOES UP IN SMOKE ;
He l it a cigarette then , musing , spoke“How much is love like this thing which
we smoke “
Each lives a burning moment , each bringsdreams,
A momentary thril l— and then it seemsThat when the fire dies, the spell is l ost,And coldness chills both like a winter ’
s
frost .”
I looked upon him in a puzzled way,And wondered o ’ er the things he had to
say ;“What happens then , I asked in noncha l
ance
ADVENTURES WITH APHRODITE 69
He gave me something of a merry gl ance“Oh
,wel l ,
” he said ,“I seldom sigh or fret,
But merely smile— and light another cigarette .
”
THE SOUL ’S LAST LOVE .
Out of the ashes of empires
Greater dom l n l ons did rise ;
Out of its wrecks the Soul aspires
New birth , new love , new ties.
And the songs that it sings , reliving ,
Ring truer than those of old ;’
Tis a Soul that is only giving
A love that never grows col d .
Yet, as in the ages of history
Great nations in triumph have died
Eternity ’
s same gr eat Mystery
C laims the Soul as her fun ’ral bride .
So the Sou l,in its greatest glory,
Lists to its own death knell ;
And its l ast great , chanted story
I s the song of its l ast farewell .
ADVENTURES WITH APHRODITE
THE LAST LOVE .
There ’
s a useless sort 0’ beggar
Livin ’ on the mountain side "
His clothes are torn and ragged
And he seems to have no pride .
His house is but a shaky hut ,That trembles with the wind ;
His furn iture a chair and stool ,Of hand made , rough hewn kind .
His hair is l ong and curly
And his face , which none have seen
I s covered with a shaggy beard
A sorrow wight , I ween
I happened up that way one day,t en June smiled in the skies,To quiz this lonesome beggarAll about his family ties .
I asked him why he lived alone ,Why dressed he so uncouth , 1
Why ne ’ er a razor touched his face ,Had e ’ er he been a youth ?
I told him of the great big worldWith all its j oys of livin ’
;
Of brotherhood of man and love ,And some of Christian givin ’
.
ADVENTURES WITH APHRODITE 71
The old man laughed a j oyous laugh,
( I knew not he could smile )“Your world ’
s an empty hole ,” he said ,
“While mine ’
s a beauteous pile .”
What cares my God how ragged , torn ,The raiment that I w ear ;
What cares He if I ne ’ er have shorn
My head or face of hair ?”
He chides me not whenas my home
Doth dance with every breeze ;Nor cares He not if I must eat
Beneath His tow ’ring trees.
He only a sks that I be kind
To birds and bees and flowers ;That, though I mingle not with men,
.I l ove them all the hours .
”
And so , myfriend , the God I l oveSees not the things that fade ;
He cares not how my body ’
s dressed
But how my soul’
s arrayed .
I l ike that ragged beggar andWhen other friends have fled ,
I ’ l l build myself a mountain hutAnd love his God instead
ADVENTURES WITH APHRODITE
HOPELESS .
Th e flower smiles a moment ,
And then it dies ;
The star may lose its lustre
But not your eyes .
The bird may in his singing
Cease to rej ome
The
i
harp may lose its music
But not your voice .
Fades the rcse’
s petals
The wild bee sips
The sunset ’
s red turns pallid
But not your lips .
Men have ceased their praying
To Him above ;
Faith has died , discouraged
But not my love .
Your lips , your eyes , your S1nging
A trinity
God made to prove His wonder
But not for me .
ADVENTURES WITH APHRODITE 73
OLD PU ""LEBOOK .
I.
He was a queer old fel low ;Never had a lot to say ;
The nights he passed in mooning ,And ",dreamed away the day .
Something sad seemed hiddenIn his m e l onchol y l ook ;
And people only knew him byThe name ,
“O ld Puzzle Book .
He never seemed to be in love ,Nor even. seemed to hate ;
A lways reading verse and thingsWhich others would berate .
He had no close companion ,Nor ever seemed to play ;
Yet always seemed eontented
As he Went his lonely way .
One dreary day we m l ssed him
,And his m e l onchol y look ;And most of us forgot the face
,Of queer old Puzzl e Book
But searching in his empty houseWe found a crumpled note ,
Written by the queer old manThese are
'
the things he w rote
ADVENTURES WITH APHRODITE
And it was queer O ld Puzzle Book
His soul had left this noisy whirl
C lasped to his heart , in fond embrace ,We found a picture of a girl .
And so,beneath the April green
Where dust nor,weeds can blow ,
We buried them , full sure that soon
Another rose will grow .
A WINTRY PRAYER .
Speed up , Oh Time , thy lazy flightsTo April days a nd summer nights .
When budding tree and blushing roseAcross the prairie fragrance blows .
Return the gypsy wanderer,Without the need of wintry fur ;Bring back the songs of meadow larks ,Put summer j oys in woods and parks .
Return the mystic M ilky Way ,Whereunder youthful l overs play ;Put warmth into the sunset sky ,
As som e'
wil d summer day doth die .
Oh Time , I prithee speed a bit .The winter ’
s cruel"I’mtired of it ;
Pray speed that happy m em ent wh e
The gypsy bird flies North again .
76 ADVENTURES WITH APHRODITE
THELEAVEN or TEARSInto memory ’
s fragrant realm ,
That grows with each tomorrow ,
Flit today ’
s sweet , transcient j oys ,And every tearful sorrow .
And as I turn the pages ofThe Book of Days and Years,
I find the smiles oft crowded outBy too excess of tears .
For all the j oys we would prolongCome to an early death ;
As singers cease their music whenThey lose their mellowed breath .
And yet I know the Master HandThat binds the fated Book
Wills we learn Life ’
s purposesIn every backward look .
And j oy must be a short-l ived thingTo gain its own hereafter ;
Better a Memory bathed in tearsThan one dead drunk with laughter.
WERE I THEKING OF FAIRYLAND .
Were I the King of Fairyland ,(And you the "ueen thereof ,
1’d have the Fairy chorusesPip e nothing but of love.
ADVENTURES WI TH APHRODITE 77
The birds would be your subj ects,Singing homage to your eyes ;
The big red sun would set for you ,
And j ust for you he ’ d rise.
I ’d have the wildwood flowers breatheSweet fragrance when you ’re near ;
And l et no things unsightly spoilYour happ iness, my dear.
And,better than these joyous things,
I ’d fi l l your realm with loveWere I the King of Fairyland ,
,And you the "ueen thereof.
I T GOES BACK TO I TS OWN .
The f rost ne ’ er kil ls the rose , she said ;Such beauty never dies ,
God merely covers up its headFrom Man ’
s cold , vulgar eyes.
HER SPIRIT .
The red rose fi l ls with perfumeiThe garden
’
s freshened air ;It asks no compensation
"
For what it gives men there .
And he who loves thee , sweet one ,Would give his l ife for thee ,
And asks that thou return himNot any royalty.
78 ADV ENTURES WITH APHRODITE
For, loving thee is perfume
That fills his sou l with cheer ;And happy 1s he, hop ing
That thou art Somewhere near .
MISCELLANEOUS MOODS
A GY'PSY ’S LONGING .
We ’ve followed the gypsy trail where it
leads
To the edge of the rainbow ’
s rim ;We ’ve lost ourselves in the woods’ high
Or cities , when lights grow dim ;We ’ve breathed the beauties of ancient
Rome ,And stood
’neath Chephram’
s Sphinx ;We ’ve found romance on the ocean ’
s foam ,
And seen the sun as it drinks
I t’
sfh
night cap’neath the ’
rizon’
s edge ,And the stars peep out on high ;We ’ve dreamed our dreams on a stony
l edge
Where the Rockies kiss the sky ;We ’ve seen ev ’ry marvel the world can
show,
And dined with its varied crowds ;There isn ’t a Joy that we do not know,
Nor silver nor dark lined cl ouds ;And yet , as we fo l low the gypsy trai l ,And smile , when we
’d rather frown,
We ’d leave it all if we could but hai l
A friend from our old home town .
MISCELLANEOUS MOODS
Along a country roadsideI saw a violet smile ;
And I would fain to pluck itAnd wear it for awhile .
And yet the God that brought itSafe through the winter ’
s strifeI s He who placed me alsoAlong the road of life .
And so I l eft the flowerTo live its fated span ;
It hath a right to blossomUntouched by selfish man .
And like unto the flower
That smiles upon the sod,
I fain would grow unhampered ,Until I ’m plucked by God .
THEBALM OF TEARS .
The Lord God , in His wisdom ,
In the distant Long Ago ,Sent us woman , gave her beauty,And a soul with love aglow .
And men have thought her mortal ;Watched her beauty fade and die
Like a flower in the Autumn ,And they gave a passing sigh .
MISCELLANEOUS MOODS 85
But the Lord God stood beside her
In the vale of sorrowed years ;And he gave her Life Eternal
A s she bathed her soul m tears.
WAITI NG .
A white petaled daisyOnce swayed with the wind
In a big field of c lover,
Remote from its kind .
And I thought me how lonelyThat daisy must be
To live amongst strangers ,Companion l essly .
Yet, oft like the daisy,Have I felt alone ;
Though smiling with strangers,I sigh for my own .
And as in the autumnWhen winds from the west
Take the soul of the daisyTo those it loves best,
So my soul lawaiteth
Som e'
sweet passing windTo waft it back homeward
,
Where dwelleth its kind .
MISCELLANEOUS MOODS
BUTTERFLIES .
The butterfly , bursting her chrysalis,Unfolds her wings to the skies ;
She fascinates men for a moment ,And then l ike a dream she dies .
And life is a butterfly garden ;Each flutters a day or two ;
We chase first one , then another ,And they die in the morning dew .
And one we have named a woman ,
And we ’ve chased her coaxing smile ;And others are fame and fortune ,But each is a nightmare of guile .
For mto the garden’
s rec essSatiety steals u naware ,
And gold in'the wings of the butterflies
Fades in the droughty air .
SUNSETS
Across the wide horizon dipsThe sun in dreams of gold
The day thus dies, and dark Night tripsI nto his sl eepy fold .
I would my Soul will take its flightBeyond th’ eternal West
,
Sinking into its endless nightWith golden dreams addrest .
MISCELLANEOUS MOODS 87
AUGU ST .
There’
s a smile in every zephyr
That dances through the trees ;There ’
s‘
a l augh in every sunbeam ,
There ’
s a 'thri l l in every breeze
There ’
s a sigh in every leaflet ,There ’
s a tear in every flower,For the smiles of August tell them
That death is soon their dow‘
er.
Yet a l l the flow’
rs and leaflets
That droop their heads in tears
Know life anew awaits them
Whenas the Spring appears .
And thus whenLove has perished,
And Life is chil led by Hate ,There comes a Spring that brings us
New love , new life , new fate .
MY DREAMS AND’
I .
Dreamy days and dreamy nights,And you , my Soul , 9. dreamy maize ;
A dreamy heaven with diamond lights
A dreamy sun to light our days.
88 MISCELLANEOUS MOODS
Dream s when sunrise sends its kissTo placid fields of summer sea ;
Dreams when sunset ’
s“
golden blissBrings the heavens to you and me .
Lazily lying upon the grass,Aware of my kinship to the sod,
I watch the constel l ations pass,And feel the eternal brea th of God .
Men may have their yellow gold ,Wea r their cloaks with silken seams
For these they lose . I would grow oldArm in arm with you—my Dreams.
THE REAL ARISTOCRAT .
He was a wand’
ring gypsy ,Rather ragged in his dress ;
He had no home or loved ones,Lived 'a l ife of lonesomeness .
But everywhere you ’d meet him ,
He ’d sing a little song ;His soul was gay with dreaming,Nor wept he much nor l ong .
And that is why they liked him,
His al l to them he’
d give ;The rich and would-be rich l ooked
himHe taught them how to l ive .
MISCELLANEOUS MOODS 89
TRAGEDY
Her eyes were littl e heavens,So blue , and ful l of light ;And ’neath her mouth there lingeredSmiles that kisSes would invite .
She was gay when others grumbled ,She would sing whi l e others wept ,And at night she dreamed of fairies,While the others only slept .
But someone stol e her happ iness,And brushed her smiles away ;And now her soul is l ike the fl worl d
Upon a c loudy day .
She could forego the smiles she ’
s lost,The kisses too, it seemsHer life became a tragedyWhenas she l ost her dreams.
TO A NORTH DAKOTA NIGHT
In the blue of the skiesThere is something that thri l ls,And makes me forgetAll the world and its; cares.
I guess it’
s the thought thatThe infinite liesBeyond the far stars and the idea fil lsMy soul with a l onging,And , quite unawares,Makes it a part of that
MISCELLANEOUS MOODS 91
And have you br eakfasted and dinedWith strangers constantly ,Yet tried to a ct as if you ’re blindTo all their gayety ,Because you know ’
tis not politeTo push your presence inTheir merry company—nor rightTo sacrifice a grin ?
And have you tramped the city streetWith no one at your side ,Though meeting many, none you
’d greet,And felt you ’d like to hideYourself behind some far-off starOr trapse the M ilky Way ,Full sure the Heav
’
ns more friend l y areThan Earth ’
s strange folks at play ?
A gypsy ’
s l ife is not al l songFor love dwells near the hearthThere comes a time when he wil l l ongTo house his heart in mirth .
And then no more its deep recessWill feel the bitter painOf e verlasting lonesomenessThat drives you ’most insane.
THE CYNIC
Whenas in accents fine I hear him raveAbout the color of her eyes, her mouth ,
her hair,How simple are the clothes he sees her
wear,
92 MISCELLANEOUS MOODS
How for her smallest wish he ’d even braveThe terrors of the wood , the wild sea ’
s
waveAnd e ’
en temptations ’neath the city ’
s
glareI l ift my voice and say, “My friend
, be
For she has chained thee like a galleyslave ;
Her smile is like an angel ’s from above ,And yet she twists thee ’round her l ittle
handThen turns her back and laughs at thee
and j eersYou
1
s
oonforget that mystic thing called
ove ,Forget
(the heaven , you for her had plan
tne
And drown your disappomtment in yourtears.
”
TO A CALIFORNIA POPPY THAT
SMILES ON OUR DESK
Ah , frai l silken flower,My homage is dueTo the orange-tinted dreamsI might fathom in you .
You open your sou lIn the morn , as a childOpens its eyes whenThe sunbeams run wild .
MISCELLANEOUS MOODS
And you smile al l the dayWhile the sunshine is bright,Then close your silk portalsAgainst the dark night.
’
And that sou l ,Which those portals of s ilken thus
hide ,It is afraid .
Of the goblins that rideOn the wings of the nightWhen the day goes to sl eep ,And the terrors of darknessAround them might creep ?
God walks abroadIn the light of the day ,Breathing love to his flowersAnd children at play .
The night brings us Darkness,Whose dampened , chi l l breathEngenders wierd dreams
,
Sad doubts, fear of death .
And He Who breathed in youLife ’
s sweetened perfumeI s the God Who would save youFrom the darkness and doom .
I would that my soul ,When Life ’
s l ong day is doneAnd away to the westFades the light of the sun,
MISCELLANEOUS MOODS
II .
The dancing ends, the music dies ,The gypsy hits the trail ;The lonely wand ’rer lifts his scornful eyes
Unto the skies l ike women when they wail .
A mockery is that melody to him ,
He stifles in his heart a hopeless sigh ;And “Home ,
”says he—lost in a tragic
;Whim“Ah,,
d
that
’
s the place where men return tol o
I I I .
I hear , I think , an old famil iar strainA strange
,elusive , haunting melody
I stand awhile and wonder ; and againMy mother sings her good-night songs
me .
IV
I walk into the vastness of the nightA gypsy lost upon a restless sea
Of never ending lonesomeness ; no lightIn homes along the way are l it for me .
And yet around me stand the giant trees ,A
" roof of.
star-flecked blue hangs o’
erabove
And then I tell myself" I have all theseThe world’
s my home , my dreams, myhopes, my love .
”
9 6 MISCELLANEOUS MOODS
V
To some a home is but a place to sl eep ,A shelter from the p l ore1ng eyes of night ;And others find therein a pla ce to weepTo some it is a heaven of delight .
And which of these shal l miss that mysticpl ace
When wind or storm or Time shall wreckits walls ?
Methinks the one who sat with tea r-drenched face
Wil l sufl'er most when such a thing befal ls .
The sil ent.
sorrows which the world ne’ er
knows,And those deep sighs the passerby ne ’ er
hears ,Have made the home a place where real
love glows’
Tis christened with a mother’
s pearly tears.
VI .
And those who wal tz the while the musicp l ays
That love song of the home , are they aware
How seldom in the ir hea rts do they ap
pral se
The meaning of the song, now dying onthe air?
MISCELLANEOUS MOODS 97
VII.’
Tis thus the whole world overAnd when the Music ’
s done ,This man is e
’ er a rover,And that a home has won.
VIII .
Who follows long the gypsy light,From Samarcand to Rome ,I s stirred the most when through the nightHe hears that song of home .
IX .
Life ’
s dance is done ; the music dies ,The dancers al l have passt ;The soul sails out to God
’
s blue skiesI ts
“Home,Sweet Home
” at last.
AT THE FEET OF KINGS
To strike the c lassic Lute , in tuneWith songs the Fairies sing ;
To l ose one ’
s soul beneath the MoonThis is to be a King.
But discords from my il l-tuned LuteDoth shame that instrument
Whence melody sub lime found root
gWhen Sappho singing went .
The Fairies’ Kingdom fears my lay,No dreamy tal e it tel ls ;
And in their merry court I playThe Fool with Cap and Be l ls.
MISCELLANEOUS MOODS 99
For if cats,which should be Fe l ners ,
Have so lost their sense of reasonAs to fail to be abstainersFrom our Shamrocks when in season ,
We ’re as hopeless as the sinner,Who from Hades cannot fleeAnd old Ire land
“
ne ’ er will win herAge long fight for liberty .
OLD CLOTHES
I n gaudy gowns of shimmering silkM ilady , as becomes her ilk ,
Along the highway proudly strides ,Nor cares she much what Fate betides .
With queenly grace she wears her'
gowns ,Nor cares a whit for others ’ frownsWho cannot with such gay arrayAdd lustre to the light of day .
And yet ere sets the evening sun
The shimmering sheen of gowns 1s done ;And queenly si lks resolve t o r ags ,And fil l the j unkman ’
s dirty bags .
So eyes that once shown free and gayAlong the Road of Yesterday ,Like sheenless s ilks soon lose their l ight,And fade into an .endless night .
100 MISCELLANEOUS MOODS
For Youth is but a silken sto leTh at hides the mortal part of soul ;It fades with wear ; is, soon or late ,Bought by the Ragman or our Fate .
So let u s, as Milady throwsHer worn-out si lks with cast-off c lothes ,Sigh , as Youth aside we cast“I wore thee wel l ; thy charm is past.
THE AWAKENING HOUR .
I built me a gorgeous mansion,
Atop of a sun-kissed hil l ;And I draped its windows with flowers,And joy did its wide hal ls fil l .
And I thought me how nice , when I’m
"tiredOf j ostling the mad rush of men ,
I’
d‘
rest in my mountain mansionWith naught but my dreams and my pen
But once , in a cold , gray morning,When c l ouds covered up the sky,
My mansion crumb l ed to p iecesAnd all of its j oy seemed to die .
But I shou l d have known it would end
thusLife is a nightmare , it seems
And now I am lonesome and homelessMy mansion was buil t upon dreams.
MISCELLANEOUS MOODS 10]
MY COMPANIONS OF THE NIG HT.
Along comes Night, and with him bringsThat l ittl e respite known as sleep ;
Forgotten are a l l wordly things,Whereat men curse and women weep .
And dreams fantastic enter in,
And some are wierd and strange ;Some are hellish , some like sin,
.
For wide is dream-life ’
s range.
And yet, I love them al l ; the good,I ndiff erent ones or bad ;Because I know they ’re dreams, nor wouldI l et them make me sad.
And when each dream with a l l its millionthril ls
And things that are not real , but onlyseem ,
I s ende
l
d, up Night’
s wild and wondrousil ls
I c limb again—and dream anotherdream .
MAN AND HIS FUTURE.
Eons agone when life was new,
And men were wild and strange ,When loves and dreams and songs were
ew,
Slow moved the chain of change ,
MISCELLANEOUS MOODS 103
They cal l it“Modern Fiction ,Because it ’
s writtenToday and dies tomorrow ;It has no future .
IV .
She said she was alwaysAbove the clouds ;I looked into her eyesAnd felt she wasA star snatched from Heaven .
For stars often fal lFrom their orbitsAnd get mixed upWith lesser satellites ;That ’
s how I met her.
V .
The things we crave mostA rc always out of our reach ;No astronomer ever corral led a starWe are all astronomers ,Reaching out for the unattainable .
The world is wide,
And days are long ;But time and distanceFade in song .
104 MISCELLANEOUS MOODS
And into space ,At sunset time ,My soul goes forthIn song and rhyme .
O ’ er prairies wide ,And hil ls and lakes,The song its fleetingJourney takes.
It strikes an answeringMelody,And then returns,Besung, to me .
For every songThat sails the airFinds its mateSometime, somewhere .
V I I .
Peop l e who don’t believe in fairies,
Are usual ly the people
Whose sh ips never come in .
The golden Ship of HopeI s p ilotedBy a Fairy captainWhose compass po ints toThe Harbor of Dreams Worth While .And we al l mayBecome his passengers .
