CO > CO
OUP 23-4-4-69 5,000.
OSMANIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARY
Call K*.Q1LO8//VS3 Accession No./>,
Title - -.
This book should be returned on or before the date
last marked below.
NEW AMERICAN POETRY
NEW YORK: HARBINGER HOUSE
Copyright, 1945, by HARBINGER HOUSE
Printed in the United States of America
TABLE OF CONTENTS
TABLE OF CONTENTS FOR ALL THREE VOLUMES
TEACHER'S LAMENT Alice Ann Abelove 9
THE CHURCH BY THE WAYSIDE Dell K. Abraham 10
INTERLUDE Doris Abramson 11
ORIGINS Eugenia Adams 11
FOR LOVE OF MANKIND Gerry Adams 12
CONFESSIO GRATA Cora L. Adler 13
LULLABY Maria Adolphus 14
HEAVENLY COMFORT Mrs. Alfred Ahlberg 14
SPRING SONG Patricia S. Albright 15
THE PATIENT'S SONG Gladys Allen 16
A MESSAGE FROM MARS Mabel G. Allen 16
READY? Ruth Allen 17
REMEMBER? John M. A Hera 18
CONCHAS DAM Lillie Gerhardt Anderson 19
KEEP THE CHILDREN HAPPY Martha Anderson 20
A PATIENT'S PAIN Mary Helen Anderson 21
REVANCHE May Anderson 21
A MOTHER'S PETITION Grace McCullotigh Angell 22
MY NEIGHBOR Mary M. Anson 22
YOUR SON Mary Applegate 23
RETURN TO EARTH Aloah L. Arancibia 23
HOW ARE THE MIGHTY FALLEN Julia E. Arges 24
MY DAD Ivadeane M. Armstrong 24
THE CRUMB-TAKER Ethel Arnold 25
BOSTON COMMON F. B. Arnold 25
LEGEND OF POINT MUGU Gertrude Thomas Arnold 26
SYMPATHETIC WATERS Melvin S. Ashwill 27
ABIDING FAITH Evelyn Atkinson 28
ON FRIENDSHIP Caroline Patience Augur 28
AUTUMN FIRES Douglas Ayres, Jr. 29
A WHIMSY F. V. B. 29
LITTLE FISHERM'N Doris Jean Le<ivis Babka 30
TO WALTER Marguerite Diggs Bagby ' 30
THE UNATTAINABLE Anne Howard Bailey 31
TO FRANCE Bette Bailey 31
THE MOUNTAIN Fiske Bailey 32
THE COUNTRY CHURCHES Roscoe J. Bailey 32
THE NATIVE RETURNS Joseph H. Bair 33
FAITH Elmira Evans Baker 36
FLOWERS IN THE HOSPITAL Belva L. Ball 37
GHOST TOWN Agnes W. Ballard 37
PURSES Lynne Williams Ballard 38
WE MUST GO ON Sue Ella Baillenger 38
REMEMBER WOODROW WILSON Bertha M. Banton 39
ACROSTIC Daisie Barclay 40
TIME WAS Irma L. Barnard 40
RECIPE FOR A ROMANCE COCKTAIL Ethel Thorne Barnes 41
PEACE Frances Brooks Barnes 42
REVELATION Audrey Jane Barrett 42
THE GUARDIAN Josephine C. Barton 43
MY CREED Zoe E. Bashime 43
THRASHING Donald R. Bashore 43
SALUTATION Miller C. Easnight 44
BLACK MAN Margaret Baumez 45
GOD AND A GARDEN May Beahm 46
PEACE ON EARTH TO MEN OF GOOD WILL Eila Hancock Sealer 46
ON BEING AWAKENED FROM EDNA ST. VINCENT M1LLAY
William Beaumont 47
I LOVE YOU SO Mildred Beeler 47
THE EMPTY HEART Helen Beerline 48
DEMOCRACY Mary Beier 48
ON OBSERVING AN UNUSUAL CHILD Doris P. Bell 49
TILL ONE Margaret E. Bengston 49
GREAT IS YOUR REWARD Ruth Bensel 50
SACRED SCULPTURE Zylpha Attrition Berlier 51
THE SPIRIT AND THE FLESH Robert A. Bernard 51
SKY MAGIC Bertha Berry 53
ETERNAL BLISS Mrs. Marion R. Berry 54
ILLUSION Stephen Blackhurst 54
LIFE'S GARDEN Vivian Ever hart Blain 55
MY TRYST // r . A. Blankenhorn 55
FAITH Marie Blechert 56
THRENODE Honor a Mary Bibaud 56
MAN Amelia Strfano Biddle 57
GOODNESS? Anita Biclnum 57
A DRIFTING THOUGHT Milton Biersc/nrale 58
THUMBS UP Jeanne Biaham 58
BLOSSOM TIME IN CALIFORNIA Rickard Carlyle Bimson 59
MOTHER Vcra Binford 59
CREDO Vincent J. Biondo 60
A MILLION MILLION Dot Prinale Birkinbine 61
IF I COULD DIE FOR JUST A DAY OR TWO Ann Bishop 61
HEART SEASONS Francis Herbert Bishop 62
A NIGHT NURSE'S PRAYER Ina E. Blevins 63
TRAVELLING HOME Mary Boatman 63
MORNING PRAYER Dorothy M. Boelter 64
DRIFTING Mae Ella Faulks Boles 65
EVENING SYMPHONY June Bolmeier 65
DREAM SAILING Leah Bordner 66
RECONNAISSANCE Idena Walstad Borgeson 66
DECEMBER Luman R. B owlish 67
THE MAGIC TOUCH Miriam Bowman 67
A SONGSTRESS SANG Esther Boyce 67
PEACE Mary Benander Boyles 68
FAREWELL FROM BATAAN Revel a C. Bozman 69
A PRAYER FOR TEACHERS Rev. A. E. Bradow 69
REMEMBER PEARL HARBOR Cora Rhode Brady 70
A SUCCESS? Lydia Acree Brandon 70
DARK WANDERING Ruth Brandon 71
THE TRUANT Tommie Brannick 72
REST Julia Brashear 72
PRELUDE IN C-SHARP MINOR Evelyn Wynn Brehm 73
SPRING IS HERE Hazel G. Stagg Bremm 73
FORTITUDE Helen Marie Brennan 74
REPRESSION Elizabeth Bryan Brewer 75
GOD BLESS CHRISTMAS Mildred Brickell 75
THE GREAT ARTIST Cula Brickey 76
I WAS ONCE A WEARY PILGRIM Mary Bridgers 77
MEMORY Anne S. Brigham 78
EMPTY PRAYER Constance Starr Brock 79
A GHOST STORY Alice Dennis Brockley 79
AUTUMN REVERIE Bubbles Brown 80
MY DREAM Florence Reed Brown 81
BLUE HERONS' Gaye Brown 82
STALINGRAD Jerome King Brown 82
LESSONS FROM LIFE Ma\ud Montgomery Brown 83
WHO COULD KNOW Mary John Brown 83
I PRAYED R. Vernon Brown 84
MY LAMP Stella Clark Brown 84
DEFINITION Philip L. Browne 85
ILLUSION AT SUNRISE Anne Dodson Buck 86
SWAN SONG Vera Caldwell Bufkin 86
AFTERTHOUGHTS Lois Burch 87
PUSSY-WILLOWS Ina Flossie Burdett 88
CONFESSIONS Mildred Bennett Burlew 89
PORGY AND BESS Louise K. Burpee 90
MY HERITAGE Zelma E. Burris 91
SKILLFUL HANDS Mayre Daly Busick 92
TO T, Augusta Foster Butler 93
LIFE Charles Redden Butler, Jr. 93
BOOKS Marie M. Butler 94
MUSIC Ruth Ann Buttler 94
WEIRD ISLE Roy A. Byerley, Sr. 95
THE TENTH BEATITUDE Ruby Bryan Byerley 96
LA MUSIQUE Richard Harding Byrd 96
POSSIBILITIES Mary Cain 97
ECSTASY Pearl Corey 98
IF FOR SICK NURSES Margaret Vickrey Carlson 99
TWO PATHS Mr. Rex Carr ' 100
THERE SHALL BE A LIGHT Dorothy C. Carrier 101
THIS TOO SHALL PASS AWAY Doris Carrington 102
GOD'S HAND Lucille Juanita Carroll 103
THE BROKEN CHAIN Mary E. Carroll 103
KWAN-YIN Dorothy C artier 104
HILLS AWAY Manfred A. Carter 104
STARDUST Susan E. Carter 105
SIMPLJCITY Rosalind Kirkfiatriik Cassidy 105
DARK HOURS Stanley Cast 106
NIGHT THOUGHTS AND MEMORIES B. Elisabeth Cavan 106
IT HAS BEEN NICE Thomas A. Chadsey 107
THE PAINTER Alice J. Chafiee 108
OUR FLAG Margaret Chambers 109
EMPIRE Naomi Chappell 110
THE ROSE Leroy Charles 110
FUTILITY Mary E. Chedister 111
AMBITION Mary Vida Cheek 111
THIS IS WEALTH Jessie Ann Cheffey 111
PRAYER FOR THE FIGHTING MEN Frances Barbara Cherelli 112
ROCKED IN THE CRADLE OF THE WEST Alia Brown Chittcnden 113
THE NORTHER Charlotte Chittick 113
REFLECTIONS Clara Birgitte Christensen 114
DREAM LADY Zoe Branegan Christin 114
A PORTRAIT Willa Daisy Christy 115
OLD SANTA FE B. F. Clark 115
A CHRISTMAS SON'G Minnie Mason Claybaugh 116
GIVING Norman Clayton 117
LOST DESIRES Donna Clem 117
TWO-POINT RATIONING //. M. Clements 118
GOD WOULD SMILE Mangaaret E. Cochran 119
PHANTOM COMPANION Belle Coder 120
YOU Lena Cohen 120
AFTERWARDS Dorothea E. Coleman 121
TAD Lorraine E. Collins 122
TO A SINGING STAR Enangelinc Colwell 122
FIRE PICTURES Norine B. Connelly 122
THE WHITE PARADE GOES MARCHING ON
Barbara Hope Conway 123
IF I GO Rachel Conrad 123
FIRE Violette Inez Cook 124
DOWN BY MATAGORDA BAY Julia Cooper 125
HANDS IN THE DARK Alwyn Coristine 125
COMPENSATION Viola C. Corley 126
TRIBUTE TO POLAND Viola Cory 126
LONGING Catherine L. Cowles 127
COUNT NOT YOUR DEAD //. Theodore Cox 127
THE FLOOD Naomi Digman Cox 128
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALES Vivian Pope Coy 128
TWILIGHT AND YOU Dollie Benton Craig 129
KING OF SPACE Bernice Crawford 129
MY DIAMOND Myrtle Brodie Crawford 130
SYMPHONY OF THE SEASONS Annie Lee Smith Groom 131
INSIDE OUR OLD BARN DOOR Eleanor G. Crum 131
A QUESTION Nannie Mae Cruse 133
PRAYER Warren A. Gulp 133
I SAW DEATH Eva Bell Cummings 134
ROASTING EARS J. B. Cummins 135
PRAYER Arnold Curry 136
HIDDEN PLACES Bronston Loving Curry 137
THE PLAIN SEWER OF WORDS Doris II. dishing 137
THERE WILL BE OTHER SPRINGS Pauline Culler 138
MANHATTAN Edna Daniel 138
SANDS Ruth Lemack Daniels 139
CREATION Mary Louise Dargan 139
APRIL IN THE WOODS Mary Kathleen Darnall 140
PRAYER N ore en I. Davey 140
PRAYER Etta Davidorf 141
VALENTINES Evah Boon* Davis 141
MY PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED Grace Violett Davis 142
CHARACTER Jean Davis 142
THE MOON'S BLACKOUT Susannah Dawon 142
NIRVANA Fanny P. Day 143
MY AUTUMN SONG Louise Eleanor Denkelberg 144
FROM A HOSPITAL WINDOW Mabel F. Dennett 144
THOUGHTS ON EVENING Jeanette Derickson 145
FIRST BEAU Era C. De Shazo 145
MY IRISH PRINCE Jane De Walt 146
MAY Edna Lovett Dewberry 147
EVENTIDE Anna Mary Dickson 147
HARVEST Maria Messuri Di Valentin 148
NORTHERN LIGHTS Eleanor Conley Dixon 148
A COLLEGE YEARBOOK Maloise Sturdevant Dixon U9
WHITE ASHES Ruth Dodge 150
FOR A. W. Phyllis L. Doe 151
IN THE GARDEN OF HEAVEN Myrtle Vest Donnohue 152
MY REVERIE Margaret Donovan 152
PEACEFUL VALLEY J. R. Dooley, Jr. 153
TO JANE Hildegarde Dorman 1*4
TRUE ART Gladys E. Douglas 154
HANDKERCHIEF HEART Diana Doyle 154
AGAIN COME SPRING Lucy Duke 15s
ADVICE D. D. Dunann 155
CHRISTMAS C. Blanche Duncan 156
LINCOLN Samuel Dunievitz 156
OUR FLAG Alia H. Dunlap 158
NOCTURNE G oldie Beard Dunlap 158
A TEACHER'S PRAYER Isabelle M. Dunn 159
REVERENCE Jcanette Dissmeyer Dunk 159
MY TWO DREAMS Vicki Durand 160
HAVE YOU WALKED WITH THE KING? Muriel E. Dyhrman 160
TREES OF THE RIVERSHORE Mary Dysart 161
A PRAYER Mary McCoy Eberhart 162
TO A ROSE Anne Eichhorn 163
A SNOWY EVENING Lucile Eldridge 163
AUGUST 1941 William Eldridge 164
MEMORIES OF THE SEA Louise Ellis 165
MEMORIES Betty Marie Ellis 166
A NURSE'S TASK Winifred Ellis 166
POWER OF THOUGHT Elizabeth 167
SUNSET Ruby Ener 167
MY TRUST Geneva Eppes 168
WHOSE FAULT Anna Mae Erdmann 169
REVERIE AT EVENTIDE Christel M. Erdmann 170
CALL OF PEACE Bess Gratz Erickson 170
CLIMBING Beatarice Griffin Esborg 171
TO A YOUNG MOTHER Sister Mary Estelle, O.P. 172
ENGLAND IN SEPTEMBER Patricia Ely Fallon 172
SILENT SERMON Del Fambrough 173
ALL FOUR Rita Fanelli 173
SCENES Ruth Farley 174
AUTUMN BEAUTY Flora Farnsworth 174
INCONSTANCY Ray McConnell Faught 175
FINIS CORONATOPUS Olive J. Faulkner 176
CULTURE Harry James Fazzina 176
THEY SLEEP Mary G. Ferguson 177
A RENDEZVOUS WITH LIFE Ben Field 178
THE BIRDS WILL SING Lydia Fisher 178
JUST YOU Mary W. Fisher 179
BALM FROM MY GARDEN Anna L. Fitten 179
OCTOBER Annis Fletcher 180
HOME Margaret Reed Florey 181
SONNET Dorothy Sweet Forman 181
WORLD WAR II Mabel Fosler 182
BURNING PASSION Letty Friedlander 182
SUNSET Loisclaire Friedman 183
WE WHO LOVED THE SEA Addle Funderburke 183
THE MOUNT Audrey Gann 184
THIS: FAITH Eddie Gaona 185
LISTEN TO ME Lytt I. Gardner 185
A PUNCHER CHOOSES Beula M. Garland 186
NEW YORK Harriet Garrett 187
LEGACY Ruth Ives Garrett 187
OLD WYOMING Alice M. Gates 188
SONG OF THE BROOK Helen M. Gates 1SS
TO JEAN Irene E. Gates 189
YOU ARE MY MUSE John Stuart Gates 190
FAITH Susan Ruth George 191
AMERICAN SOLDIERS AT WAR Carl Gustav Georgi 192
THE SEASON'S ENDED Katt/ierine Gerdes 193
DEATH Beltie Geren 194
THE IMPONDERABLE George F. Getty 194
EASTER MORN Mae Gibbs 195
A STORY AT TWILIGHT Ela Mays Gill 195
SATISFIED Burl H. G ilium 196
PUSH BACK THE NIGHT Genevie Goff 197
GRACE Daisy Marie Golden 198
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF LINCOLN Estella Goldsmith 199
WILLIE'S DREAM Luiy Goodenough 199
THE ARMY NURSE Daisy Salome Graves 200
WHEN PEOPLE SAY Victoria L. Graves 201
DREAMS I'erena C. Gray 201
A TEACHER'S LAMENT Lulu Lee Greene 202
CONFLICT Maud Greenwood 203
WHY LOVE? Rita Grey 204
NIGHT BEAUTY Imogene Griffin 204
HE RESTORETH MY SOUL Enid S. Griffith 205
FACE EAST Dorothy R. Grigg 206
SUNDAY FISHING E. J, Grigsby 206
LET THE VOICE OF FREEDOM RING Leota Grigsby 207
PERMANENCY Presley M. Grise 207
MYSTERY Helen McCurdy Grommon 208
ALL HAS BEEN SAID Mollie A. Gross 208
I HAVE HEARD Marion Grove 209
ALL GONE Florence C. Grubb 210
THE FROSTED ASPENS Mary Allen Guslavson 210
CRUSADE Wanda D. Haesener 211
WIND WHISPERS Helen A. Hagen 211
BEAUTY J. lleisler Hagge 212
ADORATION Laura M. Haldeman 213
MORNING SERVICE Belva Hunter Hall 213
OUR STARS AND STRIPES Florence E. Hail 214
THE MOUNTAINS Lawrence W. Hall 214
OUR LOVE Anita Hal pern 215
SIGNS OF SPRING Addle Cook Halter 215
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS Vernon John Hamilton 216
THE HEAVENS ARE OURS Rita Hammel 217
DUST Verna E. Hancock 217
CONSOLE Gladys L. Hanford 213
EVENING PRAYER Lily Hanson 219
A REVERIE Gladys Hardeman 219
A SOLDIER TO HIS WIFE Robert A. Harding 220
FREEDOM'S VOICE //. Claude Hardy 221
A SOLDIER SPEAKS Maude Harget 222
A NURSE'S HANDS Billy Harman 223
THE GRAND CANYON Grace Parsons Harmon 223
WIND AT NIGHT Mabry Harper 224
DEFENSE WORK Doris M. Harpham 224
A BELGIAN PRAYER Abigail Harriman 225
THE WIND IN THE PINES Irene Lucilc Harrington 226
ON THE PORTRAIT OF MY MOTHER AT THE AGE OF
SEVENTEEN Alice Clarke Harris 226
TO LILLIAN WALD Lillian Harris 227
SONNET TO YOUTH Willie Viola Harris 227
SPRING Charles Franklin Harrison 227
THE HEROIC DEATH OF PRIVATE VAN NOY Mark Hart 228
LOVE'S VAGARIES Eleanor Margaret Hartney 231
THE END OF DAY Georgia Hatch 232
AFTER A SNOW STORM Alice E. llauscr 232
DRUMS Mary Ellen Haw 233
SUCH A LITTLE BOY! Norma Fuller Hawkins 234
WAVES Ann II ay den 235
SONNET TO A SOUTHERN LAD Jeanette Heard 235
MY PRAYER Viola lleaton 236
WONDERING Heral G. Hedgcock 236
TO JOHN Helen Heller 237
REPRIEVE Julie Lucas Henderson 238
A MEMORIAL DAY PRAYER Edmond L. Hennig 238
THE REST IS SILENCE Gloria D. Herres 239
END OF SUMMER Betty K. Herrington 239
CHALLENGE Ruth Hershey 240
COURAGE Jessie Carter Hestir 241
THE WATER OF LIFE Katie M. Hibbs 241
TOTAL ECLIPSE Mar ye C. Hicks 242
MOTHER'S MEMORIES Isabel Cole Highfield 24J
TRAGEDY Evelyn B. Hill 243
FINALITY LaA Woolsey Hill 243
A TEACHER'S PRAYER Clayton II. Hinkel 244
GOD'S TOMORROW T. S. Hitchcock 245
RECESSIONAL Elizabeth Hoard 246
LOUD-SPEAKER y aline Hobbs 246
PARENTAL LOVE Lewis Ilobson 247
AUTUMN MAGIC Ann Lindsay Hodges 247
RAIN AT NIGHT Halite M. Hoffman 248
COMMON SONG Lillian Audrey Hosrner 248
PRETTY WHITE BUTTERFLY Minnie McD. Hollistcr 249
EVENTIDE Bess Poynter Holmes 249
SERMONS EVERYWHERE George A. Holt 250
THE ROAD THAT LED HOME Laura Holt 251
STILL RINGS FOR LIBERTY Noah C. Holt 252
LOVE DYING Frances Margarett Hood 253
THE BACHELOR'S REVERIE John Howard Hoon 253
IN HIS HANDS Stella Hoover 254
MY KNIGHT Katherine E. V. Hope 254
THE GOOD SHIP ZACA Louise Gertrude Hope 255
THE MISSOURI Gunnar Horn 256
THE BEAUTIFUL OJAI VALLEY Marguerite Horn 256
MY SOLACE Madelene Manfred * 3g
A QUERY Jane Miller Manning , 19
REVERIE OF SPRING Marie Richardson Manzo ***
NOTES Hans Margolius _
SURVIVAL Stella T. Marsh . .
WINTER IN WISCONSIN Marcelle Martini ^
THE LEGEND OF THE CHRYSANTHEMUM Etta Asenath Mason 342
BRIDE OF THE SEA Harriet Mabel Mason 343
OFF TO THE WAR Jane G. Masters 345
EIRE Sister Maura 346
TO WOODROW WILSON John A. May 349
AUTUMN Isabel Eln Mayer 349
GOD TAUGHT ME TO PRAY Bonnie McCall 350
HAPPINESS Bessie McCloud 351
FIRE Miriam Thomas McCrary 352
FLIGHT INTO DARK Elaine Pierce McCrdess 353
APRIL'S DEATH IN THE ORCHARD Rosemary McCue 353
NO PANACEA Barbara McGiffert 354
BLACKFORK Audrey Will Mclntire 354
METHODS AND PROCEDURES Mar go McKay 354
ONLY A STEP TO GLORY Nellie Elnora Wills McKean 355
THE ETERNAL CLOCK Maybelle McKervey 355
SAILOR'S LULLABY Betty Mariam Mclaughlin 356
TOE PARABLE OF THE PINE Charles E. McLean 357
CONFLAGRATION Edna Tidmore McMath 358
SPIRIT OF AMERICA Mrs. Ewing McMichael 358
GIVE ME HEAVENLY LOVE Mrs. Amanda ffoff McMillan 359
U. S. RIBBONS IN THE SKY Marion Campau McNeil 360
AUTU(MN Florence M> Mead 361
IN MEASURED TREAD Leroy Burke Meagker 361
CROIX DE GUERRE Catherine Meersman 361
ELEGY Nell Vaughan Mellichamp 362
SECOND CHOICE Arthur S. Mellinger 362
SIGNS' OF SPRING Katherme Messer 363
SAH-AH Margaret G.. Mielkc 364
THE WORLD'S NEEDS Rev. J. F. Minry 364
A PETITION Evelyn Lucille Mlodzik 365
NELLIE AND HER BEAU Dorothy Lucille Molter 365
IN MEMORY OF A NUN Rose Dorothy Monahan 367
SAFE IN MY HEART Genevieve Langley Monigold 367
TESTAMENT OF FAITH P. Ellsworth Moor 368
SECURITY Maude II. Moore 369
FINIS Morris E. Moore 370
THREE Ruth Mary Moore 370
GAIN AND LOSS VernMoorc 371
ARMISTICE 1941 Bernice Morgan 371
SPRING COMES LIKE THIS Iris Morris 372
IF I MAY NE'ER BEHOLD THE TENDER NIGHT
Alvarita Aishe Morrow 373
EDUCATION Frances Marie Morrow 373
A TINY CLOUD Geneva Brown Morrow 374
SCHOOL DAYS Harlo<we Belle Morrow 375
TO A FRIEND'S NEW HOME Grace B. Mortensen 375
A DAY Ivah Holmes Mott 376
LOVE'S GETHSEMANE Kay Morton 376
SPRING OF ELOQUENCE Rose M. Mucklcy 377
THE ROAD TO LAMBERHURST Vista R. Mueldener 377
ARBOR DAY "IF" Mary Mullen 378
THE THISTLE Jessie Z. Murphy 379
GOD'S JEWELRY Virginia Pric/iard Murphy 379
A CAR Marjorie Murray 380
SPRING CLEANING Christine Murrell 380
AMERICA CALLS Edythe Myers 381
HACIENDA NIGHT Lester Nagel 382
DUST Emma C. Nagle 382
AN OPEN LETTER Clara Brodskaya Natanson 383
BEAUTY Winifred A. Naylor 384
BOLERO Ann Nelson 384
CITY STREETS Elva L. Nelson 385
THE DEATH OF THE SWANS Floyd E. Nelson, Sr. 385
SKY VOICES SPEAK Jeanne S. Nelson 386
GROWTH OF LOVE Modcna Nelson 387
I AM MAN Roland //. Nelson 387
THE BREAK UP Viola Seeberger Nelson 391
THE DANCERS Archie P. Nevins 392
OUR STANDARD Mary K. G. Newton 392
UNTIL Faye Newkirk 393
DARKNESS Anna King Nichols 394
VERGIL Cora Edella Nichols 394
POTTERS ALL Ninabelle Hurst Nichols 394
SONG TO A SKEPTIC Arlene Nila 395
THE TEACHER'S JUDGMENT DAY Anna M. Nil and 396
TEXAS WEATHER'S LIKE A WOMAN'S MIND George F. Nonis 397
LIDICE WHICH DIED Martha M. Novak 397
WORSHIP Anna Ruth Nuttall 398
SIGHT Laverne M. Odencrans 398
SILENCE Ella Christina Odien 399
LAO-TZE AND WORDSWORTH Harold Grant Ogden 399
VICTORY Frances Ruth O'Hara 401
MEXICANO COL' A. Rikhart Oja 401
TILL I MET YOU Margaret M. O'Keefe 403
THE ROCK Edna Gertrude Olds 403
THE CREATOR Mamie H. O'Neal 404
CHRISTMAS 1942 Helen Spicer Orth 404
SONNET ON A NOVEMBER MORNING Kathleen O'Shra 404
THE WATERFALL Ledare Overbay 405
SUNRISE SERENADE John A. Owen, Jr. 405
TO DULCINEA VALDEZ Margaret Packard 406
SMALL THINGS Gertrude Cook Page 407
THE ALAMO Mrs. W. P. Palm 407
ALONE Helen Parker 408
THE DARKIES' PLEA Sally A. Parker 408
ON CHRISTMAS EVE F. E. Parks 409
ADRIFT Virginia Harry Parshall 409
TO A DICTATOR Sidney Parrish 410
STOWAWAY LaDean Parry 411
REVERIES OF AN OLD SCOT Charles Paterson 412
VAGABONDS Jean McDonald Paterson 413
REVEALED Rose B. Pathmann 414
STAR OF FAITH Bertha Mahan Patt 415
THE COLUMBIA HIGHWAY Leah Patterson 415
LAY OF THE LOST COLONY Nellie Miles Paul 416
VITA Sadie Imogene Paullus 418
BLUEBONNETS Dora Elizabeth Peach 419
DESTINY Agnes Peele 419
DREAM PINES Margaret Pegg 420
MY EXPERIENCE Mrs. Catherine Penrod 420
TRANSITION Doris J. Pepper 420
I WILL STILL BELIEVE Florida Perkins 421
1 HOLD THE EARTH Jesse L. Perro 422
YUCCA Alice Persing 423
ROMANCE? Hildegard Peters 423
TO A VERY SICK PATIENT Kathryn Lee Peters 424
SOLDIER'S PRAYER Dixon J. Peterson 425
TIME'S FEAST A. J. Petti 425
AUTUMN'S PLIGHT Gloria Patricia Pierce 426
BEAUTY BLOOMS WHEN WE ARE GONE Marjorie Elide Pierce 426
OPEN LETTER Ruth Arundel Piercy 427
THESE ARE THE THINGS I LOVE Zelda M. Pineau 427
THE BLACKOUT Margaret M. Pitblado 428
TITIAN'S "MAN WITH THE FLUTE" Dora H. Pitts 429
THE END OF A RAINDROP Marjorie Plott 429
RAINBOW 'ROUND THE MOON Dorothy F. Plumb 430
COMMERCE Elwa A. B. Policy 431
SOUL HARBOR Martha Porteus 431
DUNES ACRES Esther McGlenny Powell 432
MR. SURELYWE'RERELATED James E. Powell 432
HERITAGE Pansy e H. Powell 433
A CHRISTMAS REVERIE Henry Field Pratt 434
WILD GEESE Florence L. Preuss 434
PROOF Myrtle Springer Pritchett 435
THE OLD HOME Josephine Prochazka 436
AMERICA Helen A. Pruce 437
PREJUDICE Harriet F. Purdy 437
OUR LOVE Laura May Purves 438
PAGAN WORSHIP Doris Joe Pyle 439
SUBWAY ESCALAOTOR Mariolyn Quast 439
A CHALLENGE Melicent B. Quinn 440
FLIGHT M<attie Pearl Raby 440
RAIN Jane Summer Ragland 441
MOON DREAMS Juanita Randall 441
JUST MEMORIES Bessie C. Rasmussen 442
REGRET Nina Rank 443
JOY OF LIVING Valeta Raye 443
THE VOICE IN THE TWILIGHT Jewell Lee Reams 444
COMPLETENESS Edna Reed 445
TO NIGHT William Calvin Reeves 445
GIFTS OF THE GODS Alice J. Reid 446
DEFERRED Elizabeth Colston Reid 447
THE BELLES Myron L. Reis 448
WHEN MY BOAT COMES IN Mrs. Louise Dambach Reniz 449
THE BIG BEND Anna Reseburg 450
WIND IN JANUARY Amelia Restaine 451
DEATH Betty Jean Reuthinger 451
THE TRAINED NURSE Kathryn M. Reynolds 452
RECLUSE Lillian Rhodes 453
ONE KING Carren Rhue 454
A CHURCH DEDICATION Grace Final Rich 454
WIND-FALL IN SPRING Elizabeth Anne Richardson 455
NATURE'S GIFT Forrest Richardson 455
CONDITIONAL Gertrude H. Rideout 456
SIGNS Harriet Daughtry Riley 456
SUNSET Evelyn Ritchie 457
YOU Helen M. Ritger 457
VOICES IN THE NIGHT /////> Roberson 458
TO DECEMBER Ruth Ellis Roberts 458
THE MEANEST FLOWER W. D. Roberts 459
THE COUNTY FAIR Kathryn J. Robertson 459
ROSEMARY Audrey Robeson 460
THE HANDS OF LINCOLN Gertrude M. Robinson 460
MIDNIGHT SAIL Barbara Ellen Rogers 461
SILENT COURIERS E. G. Rogers 462
BEVERLY DEANE Ola Kennedy Rogers 462
LOVE'S TRIBUTE Lillie Bender Rooney 463
THE SHASTA DOVE'S ABODE W. Darwin Root 463
A SOLDIER SPEAKS Grace Rose 464
A TEACHER RETIRES Betty Jo Roter 465
A SONG Tkelma Ruth Rouse 466
THE TEACHER Charles B. Rousseve 466
DREAMS Ruth Sara Routh 467
THE ORGAN Clyde Ruffin 467
CHRIST THE BURDEN BEARER Maude C. Rulatui 469
CALM AND CONFIDENT Rev. Hoover Rupert 469
MOTHER Annie Acheson Russell 469
CONSIDER THE HUMBLE POT W. Hardwick Ruth 470
ON FINDING MYSELF IN CHURCH AT SUNSET Grace Sandstrom 470
GOD PAINTED A SUNRISE FOR ME Ethel M. Saupe 471
MARKHAM Fred W. Schaefle 471
NIGHT RAID John M. Schealer 473
IF LOVE MUST DIE Ina House Scharjenberg 472
THE POETRY OF THE EAST RIVER Louise M. Schaub 472
NIGHT RAID Jo/eon M. Schealer 473
MIST Russell F. Schleicher 474
OLD AND NEW CHINA Frieda Louise Schwcikart 474
ENVOI Dorothy Claus Scott 475
TO MY SON Karen Scott 475
A HERON IN THE MARSH Marion G. Scott 476
INFANT WARD Clara Elizabeth Scully 477
CABIN IN THE WOODS Ellen Seipel 477
WAR Hedi Seligsohn 478
ELEMENTAL Jeanne Severance 479
THE STATELY OLD COTTONWOOD TREE Beryl Ann Severin 480
CONFITABOR TIBI Prof. E. M. C. Shafer 481
TRUTH Grant Sharman 481
EVALUATION Lynn Sharp 482
A SUMMER MESSAGE Suan Shell 482
MY FRIEND Verna Ferguson Shelton 483
RESOLUTION Katherine Lounberg Shepard 483
WHERE LOVE IS Madeline Sherman 484
THE PORCUPINE /. B. Shields 484
NEW YEAR Ivy Riggs Shinn 485
SNOWFALL Adele Shirk 486
THAT'S ILLINOIS Margaret Shirley 486
SURREALISM Lea Short 4 **
YOUR ALBUM Mary Shubert 488
WHENCE COMES PEACE? Eugene Singer 488
MIRAGE Joan Slemp 489
A ROSE IS BORN Katherine M. Slemp 489
AN OLD TIME MELODY Gertrude Sloate 489
IN TUNE Aldene Wilson Smith 490
CUP OF REMEMBRANCE Alex W. Smith 491
ADRIFT Mrs. Annie L. Smith 491
WORD PICTURES' Bessie B. Smith 492
PRAYER FOR A SEPTEMBER MORNING Elma Smith 492
MY LOVE Frances M. Smith 493
LOVE IS A MYTH Gwyndolyn Smith 493
A REVELATION /. Elgar Smith 494
HOSPITAL GARMENTS J. Winifred Smith 495
ETERNAL VISION Lolet Smith 495
THE FOLK WHO NEVER DREAM Mae Bothwcll Smith 496
SPRING Ralph C. Smith 496
DECOYS Stelle Samuel Smith 497
FRIENDS Etta Hart Smithey 499
FALL GENTLY, RAIN Ellen Marie Suavely 499
WEST INDIES Beatrice Snider 499
MY CATHEDRAL IN THE WOOD Zoa French Snider 500
STARS Elma L. Snyder 501
CAPRICIOUS SPRING Lulu C. Snyder 502
LIFE STOLE MY GOLDEN SHIELDS Sydney Scout Sorcnsen 502
THESE THINGS Audrey E. Southern 503
SONNET Leona Spain 503
MY RAINBOW Paula Spare 504
MY PRAYER Hortense Spears 504
HEMP Emma Speed 505
A PRAYER Alpkaretta Speer 505
TWILIGHT Rose Lee Spencc 506
AUTUMN Edna C. Spencer 506
LISTENING WITH BEETHOVEN Jane E. Spencer 507
WHICH ARE YOU Sadie B. Spillman 508
SPRING Leona Spitz 509
MEDITATIONS Horace A. Sprague 510
TWILIGHT Martha Stennis Sprouse 511
LENTEN MEDITATION Henrietta E. Staege 512
AMERICA MUST LIVE Mary Harriet Staege 512
A MIGHTY HOST Fred Stanley 513
PRAYER FOR YOUTH Marianna Johnson Stanley 514
BLOW THOSE SIRENS Sarah Starikov 514
SOLILOQUY Emily Stebe* 515
LEAVES Arvel Steece 516
A JUDEAN PICTURE Pearl Hubb ard Steel 516
AUTUMN Toni Steffens 517
THE NATIONS' PRAYER Lulu K. Stegall 518
A MEMORY Margaret Steinmetz 518
TO PETRA'S LEMON PIE Jessie Ellen Stephens 518
THE SURF Eva Stephenson 519
A MOUNTAIN STREAM Marion Stephenson 519
SATISFACTION Sarah Duff Steptoe 520
SANCTUARY Mary B. Stevenson 520
CATHEDRAL WINDOW Marion Carr Stewart 521
THE NURSE Vera B. Stewart 521
IN THE WOODS Paul B. Stilson 522
THE QUEST Mary I. Stirling 523
THE COAST COUNTRY Cola Heckel Stogncr 524
JUST WONDERING Ann Stokely ^24
IS THIS OUR AMERICA? Rebecca Mitchell Stokes 525
MAY I NEVER GROW INDIFFERENT James Lloyd Stone 526
SUSTENANCE Elizabeth Stopple 526
MATER CHRISTI Jean M. Story 527
LIGHTED WINDOWS Ima D. Stotler 528
SPIRIT MAGNIFICENT Ribero Willey Strauss 528
EXTRA-CURRICULAR Louise Street 530
JESUS AND THE RICH YOUNG MAN Lila Poos Strong 531
POSTHUMOUSLY AWARDED Jane Stroup 532
TO A WATERFALL Joy Stubbs 533
LAMENT ON SPRING Elizabeth Buxton Styron 533
THE ABANDONED CHURCH Mrs. Laura Sumrall 534
ENCHANTMENT lone D. Swan 534
AT THE SHORE Ruth Hannah Sweet 535
I HAVE NO RIGHT Mrs. Eva Rebecca Sykes 535
DEATH Lorrine N. Taglio 536
THESE PASSING BY Gertrude Goss Tappan 536
THE RIVER, TIME Harriett C. Taylor 537
AUTUMN Lowell A. Taylor 53X
A DREAM Evria Tefft 538
THAT PROFESSIONAL SMILE Laura Belle Tetz 539
WILMINGTON Cornelius Thomas 539
THIS DAY Esther Kern Thomas 540
THE TRAVELERS Mary E. Thomas 541
MOUNTAIN FLOWERS Rebecca Thomas 54?
WAR L. L. Thompson 542
1942 NURSES CREED Mary Ellen Thompson 543
WAR Mary Wright Thrasher 544
ABOUT TREES Josephine DeGolyer Tinker 544
QUEST Lillian A. Todd 545
THE MAN OF TOMORROW Mrs. Floy Galey Tonkel 546
HANDS OF LOVE Junne Tracy 546
CONSOLATION Raymond Trammel, Jr. 547
HOPE DEFERRED Jessica J. Trommer 547
IN LIGHTLESS HAWAII Fanny Gregory Troyer 548
THE OLD SPRING GARDEN SPRING Jorge Truiar 549
THE NEED Louise Tucker 550
FOR LOVE Katherine Turner 550
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FOUNTAIN LAND Virginia Casey Turner 551
SPRING'S REFRESHMENT Sally M. Twohill 553
MY PRAYER Marjorie Vail 553
"PER ASPERA " Margaret Vale 554
GOD IS A POEM Lydia Van Dervoort 555
SUMMER EVENING IN CHICAGO Herbert Vandort 556
RESURRECTION Luella D. Van Dusen 556
TREES AT NIGHT Catherine Van Open 557
SONG IN EXILE Effie B. Garrison Vaughan 557
YEARNINGS Geneva Bridges Vaughan 558
MEMORY'S TEMPLE Gertrude Palmer Vaughan 559
PRELUDE Arnold R. Verduin 561
LITTLE YET GREAT Hannah More Kirkpatrick Vint 561
CALLING YOU Medora Jean Vogler 562
FAITH AND REASON Paul Joseph Lenard Votlmer 563
ON ENGLISH HILLS Zmde I. Voorheis 563
A PLEA FOR PEACE Antoinette Wade 563
THE BOMBAR)DIER Walter H. Wager 564
THE WILD GOOSE CHASE Hedwig Wagner 565
DIM CHRISTMAS 1942 Julia Wagner 566
STICK TO THE JOB Glenn Earl Wagoner 56>
DESERT GIFTS T. Brian Wallace 567
TREES Minnie Darby Walters 568
REVERIE Serena Wallace Walters 568
WORD SONNET Shirley Lou Walton 569
AUTUMN TRAILS Nora Pearl Wantland 569
A LITTLE BOY Matie Waldo Warwick 570
SYMPHONY Helen Peavy Washburn 571
FORWARD Myrtle May Watson 572
OUR NEED Margaret Rebecca Watts 572
SPRING TREE Annie Laurie Weaver 572
AN IMAGE OF CLAY? Harriett A. Webster 573
THE WISH Elsie May Weed 574
TWO BROKEN HEARTS Virginia Wegman 574
ON THE THIRTIETH DAY OF THE SIEGE OF STALINGRAD
S, J. Weiss 57t>
NIGHT SCENE Helen Wenberg 577
DUSK Twila E. W endt 577
DIVINE DISCONTENT Florence Westman 577
THE CRIMINAL LAWYER Emeline Whisnant 578
SHE WEARS A MASK Grace Yoke White 578
RUSHMORE Will Wickersham 579
WHEN OUR BABY'S SICK IN BED Catherine Leinen Wieging 580
AMERICA MY NATIVE LAND Edith Wiegleb 580
THE PATCHWORK QUILT Mrs. Vera Berg Wig gin 581
FLIGHT Berniece Wiggins 582
THE CRUCIFIXION Rev. B. L. Wightman 583
AU REVOIR, MORPHEUS! Edwina L. Wilkinson 584
NO REGRETS Catharine Williams 585
I WANT TO BE A GYPSY Flora Williams 586
NURSING NUN Gene Virginia Williams 587
SUFFICIENT UNTO THE DAY Jessie T. Williams 587
THE FLAG ETERNAL Elizabeth Chapman Willier 588
SPRING IS HERE Edith Willis 589
THE FROST KING Alice A. Wilson 589
INDIAN TRADER Eddie W. Wilson 590
THE TRANSITION Eva W. Wilson 591
PEACE Mamie Graves Wilson 591
THE WALL AND THE SWALLOWS Ruth B. Wilson 592
"HE HATH MADE EVERYTHING BEAUTIFUL"
Annie E. Winburne 592
MISSOURI PIONEERS Anna Winter 593
PANDORA (EVERYWOMAN) Anne-Elise Roane Winter 594
THE RIVER lone Hamilton Winterling 594
QUIET SONGS Sarah Louise Womble 595
LINES Winifred Wood 596
AGELESS INDIAN MAN Jeanette Woods 596
GO WESTERN Adah Woolston 597
WIND IN THE GRASS Nita Kibler booster 598
DAY DREAMING Letka Wooten 599
WHEN I AM GONE G oldie Patterson Worrell 600
PLEA Ann M. Wright 600
FOLLOWING THE GLEAM Elizabeth Irwin Wright 600
TO KEATS Kiki Wright 601
COUNTRY ROAD Mildred E. Wright 602
INARTICULATE Genie<ve Findlay Wyatt 603
THE WAVE Julia A. Yako 603
THE BRIDE Emma K. Y.arman 604
SUJOCESS Elenor Yorke 604
LOVE FREED FROM BONDAGE Mary E. Young 604
BROKEN IDOLS O. E. Young 605
CLEAN STARCHED APRON Lillie M. Zimmerman 606
BEREFT Carrie Zolman 607
ALICE ANN ABELOVE
Blessings on thee cherubs all,
Whether you he large or small,
Sitting in your respective places,
Peering from your upturned faces;
Staring with a vapid look
Instead of looking at your book;
Mind off- the Lord knows where -
Work not done but you don't care.
Ask a question and I bet
A grunt or "Huh" is all Til get,
Try to put a point across,
Find that you're a total loss.
Rant and rave, fret and frown,
Many's the knave I'd like to crown
Then you smile so unaware
The little man who's not all there.
Hand in work sight to behold.
No better no matter how much I scold.
Dash in tardy, leave room fast,
Action shown when classes pass.
Spoiled little brats, mother's pet,
Never remember, always forget;
Don't know the score from the word "Go,"
And if you do, you're so slow.
Impossible ever to get you working,
Prize students when it comes to shirking.
Yes, as I sit and gaze at you
I know why I'm glad when day is through.
THE CHURCH BY THE WAYSIDE
DELL K. ABRAHAM
A quaint little church by the wayside stood,
And beckoned to all, the bad and the good;
Its sweet toned bell seemed to say
"Come in, weary ones, and rest today;
If burdens be heavy and the world unkind,
Just tell it to Jesus and sweet comfort find.
His love will sustain you, through life to the end.
Come in and meet Jesus, your Saviour and Friend."
And all who came within that door
Were given a welcome, whether rich or poor:
The pastor told of God's great love,
And of a home for all in Heaven above,
While warm handclasps and friendly smiles
Made the discouraged feel life was yet worthwhile.
A stranger left with head held high
And hopes lifted upward to the sky.
For him life had taken on something new,
Like flowers refreshed by morning dew.
Friends marvelled, but to him it wasn't odd
He had only renewed his faith in God.
Love sought shelter from the rain
And dried her golden wings.
The trees forgot that they'd known pain;
She made them think of little things
That escape as half 'lived dreams.
The trees recalled the summer sky,
The shade'dappled, playful streams.
They could not say exactly why
They chose to remember little things,
But bright was the sun and clear the sky
When love had dried her golden wings.
Impressions upon looking down upon Ka\abe\a Falls, Ontario
Can it be
that many starfish
into glaring whiteness
from the dancing frosty tentacles
of the pounding, roaring waters,
down one-hundred'nineteen feet
at Kakabeka Falls?
FOR LOVE OF MANKIND
OS goes the alarm with a noisy jangle,
Out of bed I so sleepily scramble.
Yawningly I'm dressed and ready at last
Only time left for a bite of breakfast.
Rollcall and off to work once again,
Give medicines and morning care, and then
Three hours off, or perhaps two and a half,
It flies, and I'm back with the staff.
Temperatures to take, treatments to give,
A baby delivered please, God! let it live.
I give thanks as it draws its first breath
Or pray for it if He wills it death.
Lights to answer, wash water to pour,
Supper trays oh! but my feet arc so sore,
And Fm so tired, but all the while
I wear the same professional smile.
Now everything's done by the same routine,
Over a weary face my tired eyes gleam.
I'm off duty at last, but the very next day
ril be doing it over in the same old way.
Although discouraging and hard to take,
Not one of us would it forsake.
It's in our blood we all love it,
No other work could go above it.
CORA L. ADLER
When I delight in Autumn's gold and crimson trees,
And watch the birds' unerring flight to southern homes,
When fruit is stored and roses swathed against the bitter
And firelight warms the heart when winter comes,
Then I am truly thankful.
When I behold Old Glory fluttering in the breeze- -
The Stars and Stripes of Freedom, precious gift
When all my prayers entreat for guidance in the way
To serve my country best, the burden of mankind to lift.
For its protection I am grateful.
When from the blight of War's destruction I recoil,
When by deceit's dark cloak the light of truth is hid,
Then I remember men who challenge wrong and champion
And strive with voice and pen the world of sin to rid,
For these brave souls I'm thankful.
If ever from the scourge of strife and hate
Should come a world of peace and harmony,
If doubt should yield to hope and all men's good be sought,
If every soul could be in tune with Nature's symphony,
Then what a grand Thanksgiving all mankind
The sun is tired, the day is done,
Sleep my baby, sleep.
The moon and the stars are shining above,
Sleep my baby, sleep.
The calves and the colts are asleep in the barn,
Sleep my baby, sleep.
The puppies are sleeping down in the shed.
Sleep my baby, sleep.
The little chickens have gone to sleep
Under their mother's wings.
All the kittens are sleeping now.
Sleep my baby, sleep.
The she'bear has taken her little cubs,
And rocked them to sleep in a cave.
The little foxes are sound asleep,
Sleep my baby, sleep.
The fishes and frogs are asleep in the pond.
And all the birds in the woods.
The moon and the stars are shining above.
Sleep my baby, sleep.
MRS. ALFRED AHLBERG
Christ speaketh often, in quietest of hours
When twilight overtakes the light of the day:
Then doth He whisper heavenly comfort
He gives me strength to walk in life's way.
Often He leads me to groves, in the woodlands,
Bids me to tarry, kneel down, and to pray;
There in the stillness I pray, oh so softly,
There I find rest from the toils of the day.
He bade me so surely, go drink from the fountain,
The waters of life, till full and refreshed;
My crushed wounded heart was healed by the waters,
There was I comforted; there was I blest.
Often while walking by rivers of waters
There, by the murmuring streams, I find peace;
There I rejoice in the plan of salvation,
Christ brought redemption; Christ brought release.
PATRICIA S. ALBRIGHT
There's a tiny cloud of cotton
caught and held
by the new and feath'ry leaves of Springtime trees.
And a sunny flower shadow
by the fondling of the subtle southern breeze.
There's a swelling in my heart
and a surging in my breast
for the longing, loving laughter of the Spring!
(There's a dark-clad troop of soldiers
with a bleakness in their eyes
marching passively to battle for their king.)
THE PATIENTS SONG
In a bed so high,
Just pain and I
Waiting for the day
When time and skill
Will cure the ill
And I shall go away.
The time does come
That both are one
And I rejoice to find
My health returned,
The release I yearned
For body and for mind.
And grateful I
Shall always try
To give due credit to
The ones that strive
To keep alive
A life and win, for you.
A MESSAGE FROM MARS
MABEL G. ALLEN
Oh, thou who art weary and sad at heart,
Tired of Earth-born toil and strife,
Cease for a while thy care and toil,
Oh, ye workers of market and soil,
And, as the soft fading twilight
Blends into the deepening night,
Look not downward but upward,
Into the blue above, and see God's signs of love.
Behold the planet Mars
Up there amidst the twinkling stars,
Like a clear cut diamond in the night,
Giving to us of its warmth and light.
Ever changing from white to red and gold
With its hidden treasures untold.
Nearer, now, to earth in the heavenly highway,
Than it will be for many a night and day.
Case on this miracle of the skies
For time, which waits for no man, flies.
And soon this planet among the stars
Will seek some new field afar.
Then dream and let thy fancies roam
Far into that blue arched dome.
And be comforted, oh weary of heart,
Be faithful in doing thy humble part.
Knowing that an unseen infinite hand
Is guiding the destiny of our land.
When the last day cometh and we hear our name,
Are we ready to answer the call?
When we see Jesus coming with hands outstretched,
Are we ready to answer the call?
Are we ready, are we ready,
Are we ready for the Judgment day?
When we hear Jesus calling our names from the list,
Are we ready to answer that day?
JOHN M. ALLERA
Remember when you crawled around
And turned the place right upside down;
You dallied in the flour bin
And bruised and bumped that little chin;
You'd take it all and keep your smile
When you were hurting all the while;
Remember when you started school,
Things seemed so strange and rather cool;
You couldn't wait to hurry home
To tell your Mom and Dad alone
The things that Sister Mary did
And how the teacher spanked that kid:
Remember when you reached the stage
That people call the awkward age.
You'd blush, then kid the girls along,
And everything you did seemed wrong:
The night you asked about the car
For your first date with Carrie Farr.
Remember when you told your Dad
About the ring that Carrie had.
You thought that you were then a man.
You'd get along as best you can.
But Mother said you were too young,
That you were still her baby son.
Remember what a talk we had.
'Twas quite a job for your old Dad
To shake your hand and say good-bye
And watch your Mom and Carrie cry.
I felt that way because I thought
Of happy moments you had brought.
Remember now in all those years
The ups and downs, the joys and tears.
No super race, no vengeful hate,
No shackle chains to seal your fate.
Yours is the life we fed and nursed,
Ours was the hope the Axis cursed.
We bow our heads and pray the day
When all the world will see our way.
Hold high the torch, spread far the light;
May God be with you through this night.
Unfurl the flag, long let it wave,
You are the free, you are the brave.
LILLIE GERHARDT ANDERSON
Where cattle roamed and slaked their thirst
Throughout so many years,
A massive wall of gray concrete
A solid phalanx rears.
A Gordian knot that welds two streams
To form an inland sea:
For man in God's own image
Creator with Him shall be.
The waters of this new born lake
Shall make the desert bloom,
And thus dispersed, will curb the floods
That scatter deepest gloom.
The lake will smile on arid land,
Reflect the azure skies,
While beneath its waters, a fathom deep,
Tin Aja line camp lies.
Here cowboys rode the rugged range
As round-up time drew near,
And spread their beds beneath the stars
To sleep without a fear.
But so the ceaseless change of time
Is constantly unfurled.
We bear the imprint of the change
And so does all the world.
KEEP THE CHILDREN HAPPY
The world is war torn
And people are tired,
But let's keep the children happy.
Our nerves are worn
And emotions are fired,
But let's keep the children happy.
Let's give them gay dances and games and songs,
For although we're trying to right the world's wrongs,
Let's keep the children happy.
We all have sorrows, it is true
There are so many things to make us blue.
And so many things we ought to do,
But let's keep the children happy.
Let them not know our dreads and fears,
Let them not feel our sadness and tears,
Let them be gay for a few more years,
Let's keep the children happy!
A PATIENTS PAIN
(With apologies to Robert Loveman)
MARY HELEN ANDERSON
It is not raining rain to me
It's raining doctor bills;
The first of every month I see
A sight that gives me chills.
I dread the day that I must pay,
In tears I almost drown;
It isn't raining rain to me
It's raining statements down.
It is not raining rain to me,
But floods of deepest gloom,
For I must pay my nurse's fee
Beside my bed and room.
My health would make me happy
Except for these regrets
It isn't raining rain to me
I'm swimming in my debts!
Some day you will know
What inward grievings you have given me.
Some day you will know
That although my granite face did not quiver
With your cruel lashing of words,
The sting in my heart has set ruffles astir
In my inner chambers
And the circlet of disturbed emotions
From the stone which was my heart,
Will rise to the surface and roll outward
And you will know the torment of drowning tears.
A MOTHER'S PETITION
GRACE MCCULLOUGH ANGELL
What e'er I do, where e'er I go,
There's someone watching me I know.
I must be careful of my tone,
Lift I my voice in speech or song.
I must be careful what I say
For someone's listening all the day.
Two bright eyes so clear and blue
Watching everything I do;
Two sharp ears hear all I say-
Let my words be what they may;
One small voice is patterned after
Mine in speech, in song, in laughter.
Father, hear my one request -
Keep me always at my best.
MARY M. ANSON
She isn't alluring,
She's never had a permanent,
A finger wave, or manicure;
And I'm quite sure
Her dresses are home-made;
They never have that perfect look,
They never seem quite like
The pattern in the fashion book.
Her hands, work-worn and red,
Her shoes ill fitting r
They make her clumsy as she walks;
Even her words come faltering when she talks;
This woman this woman is my neighbor.
Her soul is beautiful,
She's lived a life of service,
Been at her family's beck and call
And that's not all
Most everyone in the whole town
Who has felt the need of a helping hand,
Of a loving presence near,
One to take a situation in command.
Her hands can smooth a troubled brow,
Her gentle voice
Is like the cooling water of the woodland brook,
The peace and understanding of Him is in her look;
This woman this woman is my neighbor.
You had a son for thirty years
He went away today.
The tears are streaming
Down your face,
I think you should be gay.
The Lord has taken what he lent
For thirty years of fun.
If tears you have, shed
Them for me
Who never had a son.
RETURN TO EARTH
ALOHA L. ARANCIBIA
Ah, death so kind
An end to pain and fear.
The brow relaxed,
The tired eyes closed,
The world no more to know, nor feel,
Come, cool sweet earth,
Fold o'er the lifeless clay
And cradle it
Within thy breast
And let it be a part of thy great strength
Until that day.
HOW ARE THE MIGHTY FALLEN
JULIA E. ARGES
Once they stood proudly on the heights
With branches outstretched
To catch the sunshine and the rain,
Yielding gently to the breeze
Or wrestling with the gale,
Muffled in scarves of snow
When winter came.
Now deep in the mud they stand,
Shorn of every limb,
Bearing, Atlas'like, colossal burdens,
Teredos gnawing at their hearts
Stripped of everything.
IVADEANE M. ARMSTRONG
Quietly smoking his smelly pipe,
Reading the paper beneath the light,
Audibly quoting news from abroad,
Loudly denouncing much of their fraud.
For he, himself, a prince among men,
Before injustice would not bend.
Charitable, kind, merciful, just,
He is a man whom mankind can trust.
With your own lipe you kissed my hand;
I had the grace to see
That you were meant for higher things
Too good you were for me.
You had stooped, and you were proud;
You noticed me no more;
Yours the road to destiny,
With fame in mounting store.
Those who pause to pity me
Do not understand;
I'm loveless, yes, and colorless,
But you kissed my hand.
F. B. ARNOLD
I saw Jesus in Boston Common.
A crowd had gathered . . .
I went to see what it was about.
Loafers and bums, disappointed, disillusioned, down on their luck.
... A bath, a shave, a change of clothes not a chance! A
bed to sleep in at night not for them!
Hungry, bleary-eyed, bitter, they had gathered to hear the argu-
He was one of them, but poised and self-sustained.
Facing his questioners, one foot on the park bench where they sat,
men all around . . .
In his clear, mystic voice, his deep earnest soul laid bare, this is whatj
he said: "There is good and evil; man must choose the one
he will" . . .
Pricked in their hearts, they made to cover their confusion by argu-
ment and questions. And one burly listener, touched in the
quick unknowing, turned away and profaned the word of
truth bitterly: "He don't know a god'dam'd thing!"
But in Boston Common before a park bench
I saw Jesus and heard him speak.
LEGEND OF POINT MUGU
GERTRUDE THOMAS ARNOLD
Gloomy it stands,
A fortress bold,
Where tumbling waters
Long have rolled.
At dead of night
The savage heard
And waked in fright.
"The voice of God/ 1
The red man thought
And deemed the mount
A holy spot.
In canyons far
He chased the deer,
But Point Mugu
He held in fear.
The waves lashed in
Like a serpent long
And e'en by day
Was heard their song.
From mountain side
The answer came
With every tide.
The white man now
Has broken through
The rugged headlands
Of Point Mugu.
But still the echo
Gives warning true:
"Beware the surf,
MELVIN S. ASHWILL
I stood by the river and was sad and the river was sad
Its gurglings and bubbles were soothing words to my soul.
I stood by the river and was joyful and the river was
glad with me.
Its gurglings and bubbles were expression of happiness
I stood by the river and was afraid and the river, too,
Its gurglings and bubbles were warnings of terrible,
I stood by the river and drowsed and the river was at rest.
Its gurglings and bubbles were sounds of peace to a
My daily life, at its contented noon,
Is filled with precious hours, whose quality
Of sweetness is as tangible to me
As honey, tasted from a silver spoon.
But of my gifts, I count the greatest boon
Infinite love, whose wisdom veils from me
My future path; for should I there foresee
Great wealth, or lordly eminence, too soon
Ambition's searing flame would peace destroy.
Or, should life's lengthening days hold much of ill,
Or griefs my faltering heart may scarce withstand,
Let them not dim the glow of present joy!
My God, who blesses now, will guide me still,
With love benign. My times are in His hand.
CAROLINE PATIENCE AUGUR
What is there in the human soul
That makes one yearn to find someone
Who shares the self same awe for life
Who feels the joy of early spring
And must burst forth in songs of praise,
Who likes the smell of wood fires burning,
Whose heart is touched by stirring music,
Who's moved by poets' singing words,
Who enjoys the stimulus of sports,
Who keenly feels the wants of others,
Who attacks life's work from joy within,
Who understands thfcse things and more!
What makes one want to know that soul
With whom to share these joys around
And in that sharing form a bond
That draws souls close to sense and find
Some of that love which moves the world!
DOUGLAS AYRES, JR.
How like a fire in autumn
Burn bright the forest leaves,
Still clinging to tall treetops,
Though their mission is fulfilled.
How they flare up the mountains,
And light with mellow glow,
Winding stream courses, flowing
Far below and splash
In gypsy pattern
Staid spruce and balsam fir.
Here maples' molten banners
Like slow embers flutter down
To float in gaudy colors
On many a mountain brook,
Quenched in icy waters
But with neither steam nor smoke.
The forest fire is spreading,
Beech is scorched, birch pure gold,
Oaks aflame, poplars yellow
Scatter sparks about together,
Till, fanned to highest pitch
By autumn winds cavorting,
Leafless trees alone remain
To mark such conflagration.
F. V. B.
I look beyond the mountain peaks,
I look beyond the sky,
I wish I were a cowboy gay
On hill tops riding high.
I gase across the sagebrush gray,
I sniff its pungent air;
I wish I were a graceful fawn
With ne'er a hint of care.
I see the firs on sloping ridge,
The clouds above them white;
I would I were the gypsy wind
That stirs their dreams at night.
DORIS JEAN LEWIS BABKA
Freckles shining on his nose,
Specks of mud upon his clothes,
Sleeves rolled up, a line of tan,
He's my little fisherman.
Sits all morning, feet are bare,
Insects bite, but he doesn't care,
Waiting, hoping for the time
When a fish will nip his line.
As the sun sets in the west,
Trudging home he's at his best,
Whistling, happy as a lark.
He has caught a four inch carpi
MARGUERITE DIGGS BAGBY
A colored leaf you brought me,
A shiny rock or two,
And now a home-made valentine
Which begs me to be true.
It doesn't have my name on,
It simply says "To you."
It might say, "To my Teacher"
If you could spell that, too.
ANNE HOWARD BAILEY
Before the spears and cuirasses of war
Are flung aside, and false shouts of peace
Resound down corridors of weary Time,
May one low whispered thought presage hell's surcease.
Vic'try the world knows it is a simple thing:
It costs but gold, and blood, and human life,
All soon these easy things are overpassed,
And sacrifice forgot, in peace's strife.
It is too easy triumph over wrong,
Ascendant good what price to those who live?
To those who suffer none, truth is negative,
Its attainment lies with the dying throng.
Men must quest to find a conqueror's whole,
Vic'try lies only in a selfless soul.
To you, who in the midst of battle strong
Fought hard the gripping steel of Nazi thrust,
To stain the whetted knife with human rust
Until oppression seised your cause, and pawned
At reckless price your toil of freedom's song,
Thank God for battered helmet in the dust,
And blood-soaked boot, for of that death unjust
New hope will come; in vain men are not gone.
Above the trench, furl high the flag to meet
A challenged world. Release your heart to find
In broken soil a struggling liberty.
Treat not unkindly all despair, defeat.
Depend on future wills of space and time,
And trust in God shall bring you victory!
I climbed all morning, up and up
Kept climbing, weary chill.
And still the peaks before me rose
Unchallenged, higher still.
My glance went up to those great peaks.
I longed to reach them so
My head felt giddy from the strain,
My steps were very slow.
Noon came, I knew I dare not go
Much farther toward the skies,
For I must leave some time to take
The path that downward lies.
By chance I faced the way Fd come
Then, much to my surprise,
Fd climbed so very high I saw
The world before my eyes!
THE COUNTRY CHURCHES
ROSCOE J. BAILEY
I have traveled into the mountains,
Up and down through greenish sides,
I have gone into the hamlets,
Where the little cities lie.
I have seen the little churches,
Upon yon distant hill,
And oh, they look so lonely,
So quiet and so still.
I wonder as I pass them,
No matter where they stand.
That's all the folks who live about,
Have left the guiding hand.
I have peeped into their portals,
Around their weathered sides,
And thought of those so long ago,
Whose ghosts may be inside.
I look around and see the graves,
The weed covered graves of men,
And think of the years that have passed
When they were fresh and green.
If their dear souls could only see,
The life beyond their sides.
Then they would know without a doubt,
Their church has died inside.
Let us build back our temple,
And carry our burning torch,
Oh, please, dear God, just give us back,
Our little country church.
THE NATIVE RETURNS
(An Old Mans Reverie)
JOSEPH H. BAIR
You beech-tree on this bank have stood
Since I was a care-free, prattling child.
I saw you bending by the flood
As its graceful ripples around you smiled.
That was four-score years ago, at least.
The time I recall ever so well.
You have since to your stately size increased
Till now you are monarch in this dell.
The swift waters at your feet still run,
As they did in memory's days of old.
With vines your banks are over-spun,
And rocks and stumps they yet enfold.
This is still a very lively stream,
For its source is in a living spring.
Its frettings that in the sun -light gleam
Many early recollections bring.
As a child I sat upon this bank,
With both feet bare set in this rill;
Or on all fours from it I drank
Its savory nectar to my fill.
You are the same tree as of yore:
The self 'same brook, I ween,
But are your waters that now roar,
The same I have in childhood seen?
You sentinel of all these years,
Who all the while observant stood,
The waters that this stream now bears,
Are they those known to my boyhood?
I have been away since early years,
And have lived in many a town and state,
There witnessing Life's cares and tears,
Mostly caused by love, and greed, and hate.
My coming back here recalls the one
With whom I waded in this stream.
I am all alone now she is gone!
Her death has foiled our youthful dream.
Today I sit here on your roots,
Thinking of those days once more:
Your stately limbs (once tender shoots)
Knife-carved initials then they bore.
Ah, there they are her name and mine,
On the lowest limb, in gnarled tattoo!
Each letter I can still define,
In the circle that I around them drew!
When we last sat here she and I,
These great roots had not yet put forth.
Our names I carved as she stood by,
And then we pledged eternal troth.
But soon distress and tears we bore:
Her folks went West in Forty Nine.
As cruel Fate her from me tore,
It broke our hearts both hers and mine.
Father refused to let me go
To where my loved one went before.
My spirit sank to grief and woe
At the thought that we shall meet no more.
Next spring an impulse came up strong
To set out for the Sun-Set Land,
And I did not resist it long:
I soon was on the Western Strand.
It was fall when I reached the Golden Gate,
Where anxiously I sought my-own.
But disappointment proved my fate,
As year'byyear my search went on.
I then decided to turn back,
To seek along the toilsome way
For information of her track:
Learn if foul work led her astray.
I soon recrossed the Great Divide,
And looked, afar, across the plains.
Hope gradually within me died;
Expectation frustrated for my pains.
At length I reached Fort Leavenworth,
And there I learned the sad, sad news!
May God set on such fiends a curse:
My loved and folks were scalped by Sioux!
And then in grief I vengeance swore:
I became an Indian-hater there.
And arms long since against them I bore:
Each one I met her fate would share.
Though she is long gone, my troth I have kept:
I was faithful to the vengeance sworn.
For her all through these years I have wept:
My belt has many a scalp 'lock borne.
Where her bones rest, I cannot say,
But I know where her soul has gone,
And very soon will come the day
When I shall be no more alone.
Our names, inscribed, with this tree will rot:
All things we knew will disintegrate.
But disappointed we shall be not,
When I reach that other Golden Gate!
ELMIRA EVANS BAKER
Faith lives and grows on little things.
Such scanty fare as would suffice
That tiny bird with whirring, gausy wings
Who, singing in a flower's heart, from it doth entice
The one clear drop of sweetness
Hidden there, no more, no less.
Earth's face at early dawn,
The light in a mother's eyes,
Kindness-banished fear in a wild fawn,
A man both strong and wise
Though Life seems beckoning only to deceive.
Fed thus I still can say I do believe!
FLOWERS IN THE HOSPITAL
BELVA L. BALL
Adelia brings me flowers every day.
Yesterday it was three dandelions and some leaves,
Today a little cactus in a pot;
Once it was a tiny bunch of violets
In a little bottle she had found somewhere.
How does she know, she is eight years old,
That I need these small blooms to light my way?
For I am eighty and my race near run.
Now, when the way seems dark, I look to see
Adelia's blossoms on the table here
And I can smile, for I am very sure
There will be flowers on the other side
And I shall not be lonely over there.
AGNES W. BALLARD
In the shadows of rugged western hills,
'Neath the scorching desert sun,
Stand the sad remains of a mining town
Where money was lost and won;
Where each evening the shacks were ablaze with light,
Where life was carefree and gay
But the empty hole of a mining shaft
Soon turned the sky to gray.
And now down the street runs a prairie dog,
The only life left in the town.
The roofs are sagging and doors are gone
And shanties are tumbling down.
And at night through paneless windows
I see the moon as night settles down
On the long lost wealth of many a man
In the ghost of a mining town.
LYNNE WILLIAMS BALLARD
Purses, purses, purses,
I adore purses.
Old dilapidated purses,
Red purses, green purses,
New purses, small purses,
Large purses with plenty of room.
Tapestries from the loom.
Vanity boxes, and zipper kind,
Italian leather purses fine.
Even carpet bags so big
Do my very soul intrigue.
Alligator pouches grand,
Plaid ones from a Scottish Clan
Persian brocades smart,
Brought from a foreign mart.
Lovely beaded bags so fair,
Silk embroidered ones rare,
Little coin purses too,
Treasured jeweled ones few.
'Tis my whole heart's desire,
Purses to have and admire.
Purses, purses, purses.
WE MUST GO ON
SUE ELLA BALLENGER
No matter how we fail or blunder
As through this world we roam,
There's one clear call resounding from the ages
We must go on!
When dire distress mounts about us,
And in our hearts there is no song,
When the world may seem against us,
We must go on!
Though devastating wars may strike us,
And we must depart from our beloved homes,
Still there comes to us the echo
We must go on!
Look not back to mistakes and sorrows,
For our way is not very long;
There shall soon be a new tomorrow
We must go on!
Lift up your faces to the morning,
For behind the dim unknown,
Stands God looking down on his children
As they go on!
REMEMBER WOODROW WILSON
BERTHA M. BANTON
With Scott we remembered the Alamo,
With Dewey we remembered the Maine,
With Pershing the Lusitania,
And now we remember again.
For the Japs have bombed Pearl Harbor,
Manila has fallen, they boast,
While Singapore struggles on bravely,
And Hong Kong to the British is lost.
And while we remember Pearl Harbor,
The defenders of Corregidor,
And forge for our fighters the weapons
To end the aggressors' war,
There's another we all should remember
With a plan to make wars cease
Woodrow Wilson! A League of Nations!
To insure for us all world peace.
Let us remember a broken dreamer,
And his dream of a peaceful world,
With a powerful League of Nations
And a banner of peace unfurled,
With a law the Ten Commandments,
With a slogan World Brotherhood,
With no man fearing aggression,
And humanity working for good.
Registered Nurses, we answer the call
Eagerly waiting to aid one and all,
Going where others would scarce understand
In a remote and a warfaring land.
Striving relief and good cheer to impart
Trying to comfort some grief 'laden heart,
Ever our purpose to heal and to bless
Radiate sunshine to those in distress.
Eve, morn, or midnight, it matters not where,
Death, grief or tragedy, all these we share.
Never too weary, God's helpers to be
Unto the least, ye have done it to Me,
Riches and glory hold such a small place
Sacred the smile on a pain^ridden face.
Easing life's burdens, afflictions and pain,
Surely such service is not all in vain.
IRMA L. BARNARD
There was a time when I knew I
Could catch the stars, if I should try,
Or walk across the milky^way
But that was in another day.
There was a time, when I could live
For life's uncompromising sieve,
And find what I might deem worthwhile,
If I but used a little guile.
There was a time, but long ago
And I have changed with time, you know;
Life's left me hard, embittered, sad,
I wish I had the dream I had.
RECIPE FOR A ROMANCE COCKTAIL
ETHEL THCRNE BARNES
Take a very dark piazza
And a ray of golden light
In which there sits a couple young and fair.
He must be both brave and manly
With a pair of loving arms
Strong enough to clasp the maiden sitting there.
She will be enough attraction
So don't add another drop
But just sprinkle lightly o'er with sweet romance,
Add a gently whispered question
And a strong decided "No"
Followed by a little maiden's doubtful glance.
There need be no folly here
For this tiny maid in ruffles
Has a mind all set on what she'd rather do.
But amidst a stubborn silence
Add a tiny bit of strength,
Manly Independence knows what he wants, too.
Add a less decided "No"
And a bit of hesitation,
And a whole lot of resistance you will need.
Then dissolve all this resistance
In a bit of manly strength,
And to some slight scream pay not a bit of heed.
After some faint sign of yielding
Add some color to her cheeks,
Also add a kiss or two if she agrees.
Do not use them all up here
For her rosebud lips are near,
And there never was a pair as sweet as these.
Use this recipe but once,
And you'll never be in doubt
As to who, or what, or when, or where, or why.
It will serve in any climate
If you're sure about your rules
For it's certain that True love will never die.
FRANCES BROOKS BARNES
Peace, O heart! Be still
And wait upon His will.
He knows your needs before you ask;
All Power! All Knowing! Give Him your task.
Whatever your trouble or your pain,
He's waiting to help you to Life again.
Feel His presence, His boundless power
To solve your problems hour by hour.
O heart, lift up and know that thou
Art part of God forever now.
AUDREY JANE BARRETT
I walked among the clouds.
Their silken fleece made slippers for my feet.
The raindrops splashing 'round my head
Were drops of wine: intoxicating, sweet.
I did not know that leather shoes
Would cause me less regret.
I woke to find the nectar only rain
And found it very wet.
JOSEPHINE C. BARTON
Where once the wings of silver
Plied in the mo rning sun,
Budding airmen training
From dawn till day is done;
Now lonely against the heavens
Patrols a bomber lone,
Up and across the valley,
Keeping an even tone.
A sense of comfort it gives us,
To know that high above,
A cruising plane is guarding,
Protecting all we love!
ZOE E. BASHLINE
God help me day by day
To do thy blessed will;
That I may never fail,
With the divine ray
Each little child to fill,
As he onward sails.
DONALD R. BASHORE
Dust in my throat,
Dust in my eyes.
Dust, the tractors whining.
Dust, the feeders coughing.
Dust, the thrashers roaring.
Dust, dust, dust.
Dust, my hands are cracked.
Dust, sweat in the cracks.
Dust in the motor.
Dust, yellow and gray.
Dust, all the day.
Dust, dust, dust.
Sweat in my eyes.
Dust in my throat.
Aches in my back.
Chaff in my shoes.
Oh Lord, such agony.
Damn the dust.
Damn the motors whining.
Damn the thrashers groaning.
Damn the sweat.
Damn the wheat.
Oh Lord, have mercy!
MILLER C. BASNIGHT
How then forget,
When every hour
Is wrapped with oneness
As its dower?
When constant vigil,
Their wakening slumber
'Round my feet;
When every thought,
'Midst it all;
While waking hours
And dreams invade
My slumber deep.
How then pass on
To other days,
When still my heart
Must tread this maze?
He's a black man
Got run'over black^man shoes,
Got shabby, baggy breeches,
If he were to wear a new suit
He would be above himself.
He eats alone, standing,
Awkwardly, eyes sad,
He walks a clumsy, shuffling gait.
He thinks it good to find a smile
Why should I care if his shoulders droop?
He's a black man,
And black men get that way.
GOD AND A GARDEN
When God created man in His own image fair,
He made for him a garden with naught but beauty there.
He walked among the flowers, made friends of every beast,
Communion with the Father made every meal a feast.
At even, when the day grew dim,
The Lord God came and walked with him.
Now I have made a garden wilt Thou, Lord, make it fair;
May it be for me an Eden with naught but beauty there.
As I walk there when the sun sinks low,
Lord, make me in Thy image grow;
As there at eve I wait for Thee,
Wilt Thou, Lord, come and walk with me!
PEACE ON EARTH
TO MEN OF GOOD WILL
EILA HANCOCK BEALER
Angelic hosts are ever near;
Let human hearts be tuned to hear
The praise to God that angels sing;
They glorify the new born King.
This Christmas night may all men hear
The angels' message loud and clear.
Peace in the earth! It is God's will!
Peace on the earth! Ours to fulfill!
Come! Join angelic hosts, oh Earth.
Praise Christ who gives us second birth .
Bow down, oh every land and nation!
Bow down in simple adoration!
All bitter hate and fear and greed
Will vanish and our souls be freed.
With good will in each heart toward mer
Will come peace on the earth again.
ON BEING AWAKENED FROM
EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY
On first glancing through your sonnets
pressed from the sweetness of your mind,
I felt soft beauty starting on its
brow, beauty of the kind
as when in Winter's breath is felt
the touch of Spring on frosted fields.
I was alone, alone enchanted
on the quiet sea, hearing your words
for the first time, soft slanted
against the summer sky as slants the bird
When starting from some dark corner
of my mind, an airplane's gutted roaring
broke, pressing flat against your
lips. Thoughts of you fled soaring.
I LOVE YOU SO
I love you so, I can not rest
Unless you Ye resting too.
You're just so much a part of me
In everything I do,
That when your heart is burdened
With a cross that's yours to bear,
It really isn't yours alone
But mine with you to share.
I love you so, your very smile
Within my heart inspires
A happiness that is expressed
In all of my desires,
And every time you kneel to pray
For others to be true,
I'm whispering a prayer that God
Will love and care for you.
I love you so, I sometimes think
That in God's gifts to man
He gave the best of all he had
When your life he began.
You're like the lovely flowers
That with beauty grow and grow,
I guess that God has planned it thus
That's why I Love you so.
THE EMPTY HEART
Alone 'mid the teeming millions.
Always alone since love's gone from my life.
A shawl of joy I can drape 'round my shoulders at will.
Happiness just a veneer to show to my friends.
My heart once knew love 'tis a cavern of loneliness now.
I know no pain; there is no pain but this
Love has gone from my heart
And I am alone.
Democracy! Behold, the Man!
The new'born King with earnest mien,
Cast eye afar, to a distant day
When man amid his peers shall be
An individual entity.
Thought free; soul free; master of his destiny!
A king in his right to ever serve
His day; his time; his fellow'men;
So shall the human mind e'er stand;
Democracy, its safe retreat.
No mad ravings from tangled wild
Shall from a twisted brain e'er flow;
Nor strife, nor bickerings of hate
Enthrall the home of heavenly kind;
For love, divine, shall reign complete.
How far the day, how far the hour,
When man shall win that sacred power,
None can discern, nor prophet be.
We only live to give our all
That man this gem of peace may find
Within his heart, Democracy!
ON OBSERVING AN UNUSUAL CHILD
DORIS P. BELL
He has the beauty of quiet fields at dusk,
Serene, remote in tranquil reverie.
How many striving souls have shed their husk
To form that oval face, the poetry
Of liquid grace that marks his slightest motion?
How much of beauty, choked in a past age,
Long fallowed in its narrow earthly portion,
Now lives again in his reflective gase?
Those brooding, wide-spaced eyes, not quite aware,
Have looked on glories of another clime;
And some unprinted page is kept to bear
His trace of being, his life pulse set in rhyme:
For Genius, driving her bright silvered prow
Down through the eons, has stopped to touch his brow.
MARGARET E. BENGSTON
Music I heard was music till you came,
And now it is a haunting rhapsody;
The tunes I sang before mean not the same,
Since first your eyes with favor smiled on me.
The roads I traveled were just roads until
I journeyed down them with you at my side;
And now the roughest path is fair and still
And strewn with roses, wonderful and wide.
Each day was like the day that passed before
And nights were lit by moons for other lips,
Until the day your hand unlatched the door
Into my huose and heart and sank my ships.
For I had lived and laughed and thought I loved,
And given of myself and asked no more
Than to be glad at times. I am reproved
By wanting only you forevermore.
GREAT IS YOUR REWARD
They are not alone
Who are sick of shadows;
I would not have you
Think that it were so.
Across the shadows
Of the unknown,
Across the chasm
Of the dark,
To clasp their own;
Be we are not alone:
We have a courage
And a faith,
Though stubborn we may be,
That shall someday help us find
Our love and peace and security.
And who would mock your simple plea?
And who would have the right,
So long as you have faith and strength
To stand up there and fight?
ZYLPHA ALBRITTON BERLIER
He lay so still, so peaceful and serene,
An innocent babe called home to God.
His body seemed carved from pure white marble,
Carved by our Creator and not by man.
The sacred young soul had been set free from earth
And ushered into immortality, still pure.
I reverently straightened and smoothed his brow
And humbly whispered to myself,
"The Lord giveth and he taketh away/'
THE SPIRIT AND THE FLESH
ROBERT A. BERNARD
"How can I serve the Master?"
Inquired the spirit of the flesh.
"That is easy, companion spirit,
Come, let us the joys of life enmesh
Within the walls of my good temple;
Let us feed this mortal man.
We will satiate his earthly cravings,
And we will join life's happy band.
We are the victims of cruel torture,
And it was not intended so.
Here I am loving life,
With you in me filled with strife,
And to everlasting hell must go,
If unguarded you are found
By Satan's imps and garish clowns.
What a happy pair we would be,
If you would join me and be free
From this devilish constant care
Of obeying laws one can not bear.
Yours is a hard task, good spirit,
Don't you see?
Come, let us live; let us be free."
Left unguarded spirit stands
Within the flesh of mortal man
Thinking deeply of his plight.
"What a team we do make
As the flesh of life partakes/'
Spirit thinks with all his might.
"A part of God here I stand
Within the flesh of mortal man
As he satiates his fleshly cravings.
If I lead flesh to more light,
I will be saved by the Master's mignt
And be serving Him by saving.
If I am lead by his misleading,
Bad example and false pleading,
Then eternal life I have waived,
To be bound by Satan's might
In the darkness of hell's night,
And forever, forever lost to God.
Then, I will lead flesh to more light
From the dark of darkest night,
And the paths of righteousness we will tread
Like a flashing, blinding light
The flesh at last receives true sight,
From the spirit's ever-living God.
And bowing in submission,
Penitent flesh in deep contrition
Embraces spirit to his heart.
"Good friend spirit now I see
Why the cross of life should be
A part of every human life.
If I, in all things had my way,
I would in turn my friends betray
Into ceaseless never ending strife.
Now, we will work with main and migi
Giving joy to all on sight.
That will be our earthly task.
Giving joy and hope and faith,
Leading through life's pitfalls safe
Weary travelers of the night.
And now I know by intuition,
Love's true depths, life's full fruition;
And of others' faiths and sorrows too.
If my flesh no spirit contained,
I would be dead though my body retained
Semblance of the living.
Good spirit, you are the beauty which shines in me,
That touches strong men and sets them free
From the sins of mortal man.
But, evermore there will be
A stark spectre that is not free,
Inhabiting the flesh.
Embattling us in deadly fray
As we struggle from day to day
From victory on to victory.
And this hydra headed will of flesh
Our wills will still endeavor to enmesh
With that of fear and mystery.
When our path of life will have run,
Spirit and flesh joined will have won
Life's eternal victory.'" 1
I don't know when, in childhood days,
1 first caught sight of tall, blue sky;
I only know my awe of it
Will never die.
I only know, where'er I go,
Or near or far, I will not care,
For always, always overhead
It will be there.
I don't know why this bit of sky
Can set off magic in my heart;
I only know that if my life
Be set apart
In tangled ways drab, sordid, cold
My heart will like a vine reach up,
And drink there deeply, eagerly
Of beauty's cup.
MRS. MARION R. BERRY
When I kneel and pray to God,
I ask that my prayers may bring
Not wealth, joy and happy times,
I ask for a deeper thing.
The gifts I seek lie far within
My conscience and my soul,
I ask God to guide me near
To Him who is my goal.
I do not get discouraged,
When I do not get all this,
For it shall take a lifetime,
To gain my eternal bliss.
Til teach you a lesson.
How she glows
With sardonic satisfaction?
She was there.
When I awoke from dreaming
She was there,
Because she knew.
I thought she only smiled,
And the dream, I thought, was real.
So I dreamed beyond my sleep
While Venus laughed.
VIVIAN EVERHART BLAIN
I chanced one day when walking
To see a garden fair,
Where roses bent their stately heads
While I was passing there.
I gazed in wonder at the flowers
Each little one so sweet,
And thought the plan behind it all,
That great and small should meet.
And while the flowers all summer grew
To shed their perfume rare,
I thought how like, in life's strange way,
We find our heart ease there.
W. A. BLANKENHORN
I have a tryst with my Saviour,
A rendezvous deep in His grace.
When earth'ties grow rife with disfavor
I hie me away to some place
To some place that is quiet, secluded,
And there in the arms of my Lord
I tell Him how I've been deluded,
How tried friends have broken their word.
He tells me how He was betrayed,
How tried friends had broken His heart;
And then it seems that He holds me
So close that we never shall part.
And oh, how I thrill when he whispers,
"My Grace all sufficient shall be."
And oh, how His will seems to urge me
To live just as lowly as He.
And so as we go down plain pathways
I'm aware, everywhere He's with me,
A smile from His face, a moment's embrace,
Is to me: harmony, victory, ecstasy.
They tell me my Friend's a delusion,
My tryst is a fancy self-wrought.
That this love can but end in confusion,
That the pleasures of earth are all bought.
Yet I know 'tis not so what they tell me,
For I've bartered, bought greatly withall,
Still my tryst with my Christ and my Saviour
Is much finer, diviner, than all.
Only a candle burning low
And a quiet hush in the air;
Only this flame to let me know
There's a Greater Light "Over There."
Only my hope to urge me on
One Truth, to light the way.
Only my Faith and if it's gone
How can I walk each day?
HONORA MARY BIBAUD
And when the leaves by wind of autumn turned,
Sing to my heart the songs of things they knew,
When woodpaths where we wandered have grown sere,
And merged with wailing, swaying ghosts of trees,
Dim weary ways for pilgrims' aching feet
Wound 'round eternal roods of rock-strewn hills,
Beneath the chill of waning cloud-chased moon,
O then I think 'twas scarcely yestere'en
That sunshine tinged the laughing, elfin leaves
With glinting light and that long shadowed road
Which in the end leads to thy hillside rest,
Was but a violet path for dancing elves,
That timed their steps unto our joyousness,
When all the woodland haunts were sweet with song
Of lilting redbird, thrilling from his nest,
Where mellow waters mirrored sycamores,
And willows, dripping fingers green and long
Into the placid silence of the lake
Ah God! how hopeless, when November winds
Re-echo to my heart, across thy grave.
AMELIA STEFANO BIDDLE
Oh soul crying in the lonely night,
Oh flesh that burns and finds no ease
Oh vain question and no answering,
Oh beat of heart that will not still;
Oh deeps within, vain useless questions,
Oh stars above, beyond our grasping.
Oh Man! beseeching, unavailing atom of eternity.
Sometimes I wonder how much good one can do
But no book can tell; it is all very true
Because a kindness here and a kindness there
So often is accepted unaware.
The teacher does sacrifice her time no doubt
But who can know what her pupils are about?
It may be that just inspiration put in
Will start ideas which later will win.
This world of ours is great and wide
And many men and women do here abide,
But nevertheless as the old saying goes
"The worthwhileness of good one never knows/
A DRIFTING THOUGHT
A force beyond my surest control
This thought takes dominion o'er me,
Making my imagination swell and roll
Like waves of the foaming sea;
Then like a storm that leaves it quiet,
This surging thought ebbs away,
Leaving behind a fading light,
And jolting me back to day.
There will always be an England
Dear to every British son;
And her flag will wave on proudly
Till the days of earth are done.
Her planes will weather stormy skies
Her ships sail o'er the sea,
Each British heart will bleed a bit
To keep her people free.
Her men may die in glory
As the tides of battle roll,
But you can not conquer England
Till you've conquered Britain's soul.
A prayer for British victory
"Thumbs up" she's sure to win:
There will always be an England
For the English won't give in.
BLOSSOM TIME IN CALIFORNIA
RICHARD CARLYLE BIMSON
Ere winter storms have reached their height,
While blizzards rage in colder clime,
Beyond the Rockies, all is bright
It's California's blossom - time.
Blossoms, blossoms, everywhere,
Pink and white upon the trees,
With now a clump of green, then bare,
Vast fields, caressed by gentle breeze.
A carpet rare in brilliant hue,
Far richer than the Kurdistan,
Is formed by flowers gold and blue
To fascinate the eye of man.
Along the highways to the hills
Flow'ring orchards flank the way;
The valley with their fragrance fills,
Resplendent in the light of day.
Yet far more beautiful the scene
In subdued light of setting sun,
As o'er it casts a golden sheen,
Announcing that the day is done.
This is my mother's home.
Do not try to take her away.
She is sinking her roots in this garden plot
Building her dreams on the house's foundation.
Her hopes and her children both are here.
She can not leave this place.
She is erecting her plans on this soil.
If she moves she must tear them down,
And try to build them on new ground of new material,
And that is wearing, soul "deadening work.
She has done it too often.
Each time she is a little more tired a little less certain.
She must pause now- she can not move again.
VINCENT J. BIONDO
There comes a time into the life of man
When creed is not enough; 'tis then his mind
Disrupts the slender bond of faith which grows
Oppressive to his aching soul, and, doubting,
Gropes amid the pathless universe,
An alien spirit seeking out fond hopes
And empty dreams. It soars above yet can
It not transcend mankind, and by so doing
Reach affinity with God: so to transgress
His law were mockery the stars do sound
Their symphonies beyond mere mortal ears
So long attuned to earthly strains. How drab
And sullen seems this cosmic void to which
W^e turn for comfort! Yet we know that soon
The emptiness we feel within our hearts
Shall be no more. If this be faith and yet
'Tis dusk and ever lower sinks the sun
Into its copp'ry grave, and floods the world
In its departing glow: frightened, each ray
Of shimmVy light recedes on padded feet
To where the earth and heavens join
In silent adoration of their Lord;
The very silence seems to breathe a prayer
Of solemn quietude and calm repose;
And though the sun is gone we feel no loss,
For in its stead has come a greater peace
To soothe our wayward senses. The light is gone
But shall return again: resplendent, it
Shall inspire in us a stronger faith,
A greater affirmation of our God.
A MILLION MILLION
DOT PRINGLE BIRKINBINH
The star embroidered sky above a hill,
A breeze that sings from tree to tree,
The feel of grass beneath my feet,
The scent of hay, new mown and sweet,
A quiet, pure and blessed and free . . .
My home! Fm now a man on this, my hill.
Tomorrow, I must go and learn to kill . . .
A hell will torture land and sea . . .
The dead be tramped beneath my feet . . .
The pagan pulse again will beat . . .
A tangled task is set for me ...
My war! With fangs and fire, Fll learn to kill.
The star embroidered sky above a hill,
A dirge, from taps to reveille . . .
The sullen sound of tramping feet . . .
The scourge of war, and no retreat . . .
A sodden sigh for liberty , . .
"My God! My soul, for home . . . for my own hill!"
IF I COULD DIE FOR JUST A DAY OR TWO
If I could die for just a day or two,
Escape from all this monotone of life
Life reflected in a flawless net of sky,
A maze of stars that dazzle out of reach,
The dull eternal drone of voices,
Pierced only by the blood-stained blade of screams,
Then the ceaseless drone again
If I could die for just a day or two
Not sleep, let me die!
Sleep: confused fingers twisting and tangling
Bits of today and yesterday into disfigured dreams.
No, I want death, like space and untracked snow silence.
Let me die for just a day or two
And then come back come back
To see beauty in the blueness of the sky and
The sparkle of stars, to hear music in voices,
Feel pain in screams.
Let me die for just a day or two
And then come back again to liye.
FRANCIS HERBERT BISHOP
Who rides a bin-black horse,
And lives in a country far
Away he will never pass here,
I will never
Not a phantom
He does not live far away
Yesterday he came but he
Was walking slowly and
He turned in at
A NIGHT NURSE'S PRAYER
INA E. BLEVINS
Lord, help me to close my eyes with conscience clean,
Knowing as I go to sleep, that I have not been mean;
Knowing that Thou in Thy goodness and in Thy great Love
Have been watching over me from Thy Throne above.
Help me, Lord, to be kind to those who come under my charge,
Help me, that toward them my wisdom may be large.
May I never alone, without Thy aid, direct and choose
And cause some poor soul needless pain or abuse.
For, Lord, I'm only a night nurse.
Lord, I ask Thee to give me an unconfuscd brain,
That I may surely and gently ease the patients' pain,
That I may never in the darkness cf the night
Omit one thing that should be brought to light.
Cause my superiors who have charge over me
To direct me honestly, that I too may be free
To help and to guide others in Thy own sweet way.
I thank Thee, Lord, as on my knees I pray.
Make me humble, Lord, for I'm just a night nurse.
Speeding along the highway
On your way to that place you call home-
It's, oh, such a wonderful feeling,
You resolve you'll never more roam.
Speeding through towns and through cities,
Riding o'er hills and through vales,
Just dreaming of those who are waiting
And whose love for you never fails.
When your trip covers quite a long distance,
And you ride on the bus quite a while,
There is plenty of time for thinking
As you travel on mile after mile.
Then you think of that beautiful road
On which busses have never been,
Where you hope to meet all of the worthy
Regardless of kith or of kin.
Then why shouldn't all types of people
On their way to their home here below
Give a few minutes" time to thinking
Of that home where we all hope to go?
DOROTHY M. BOELTER
O gracious Lord, we turn to Thee
As we behold the morning skies;
For loving care throughout the night
We give Thee thanks before we rise.
When nights are wakeful, long, and dark,
Oh, how we welcome morning light!
But sometimes darkness lingers, Lord,
Within our souls from night to night.
We pray for wisdom, faith, and love,
And Thy protection through this day;
We often faiL but lead us on
Forgive our sins of yesterday.
Within our souls let Thy light shine
And help us live each day for Thee;
That earthly life may soon become
A foretaste of eternity.
MAE ELLA FAULKS BOLES
Like ships far away from home
Wandering minds often roam,
Helpless in sin's awful snares.
Jesus will help, for He cares.
Yes, Jesus we need Thee
To help our eyes to see.
Save us from sin's woes
For they are our greatest foes.
Pilot our lives each day
In Thine own Holy way.
Help us our trials to endure,
Help us to think things pure.
Like storm-tossed ships at sea
We must ever look to Thee.
Yes, Thy great strength alone
Can safely guide us home.
The night is a symphony of stars
With deep tone-shadows written through,
And composed on the velvet score^sheet
Of His Majesty's royal blue.
The musical fantasy starts
Ts the light beams grow faint and long;
The moon breaking through a dark cloud
Is the prelude to an evening song.
The mantled curtain parts
The magnificent hear and see
Look! God put Himself in the splendour
Of His evening symphony!
I never sailed the blue seas,
Yet in my Dreamland Boat,
I've often gone availing
Upon a starlit night;
Old Lady Moon smiled on me
And seemed so very gay,
The trips were very pleasant,
Much nicer than by day.
The stars winked oh, so slyly
I winked right back at them!
I turned around and saw you,
My heart was happiest then,
For you got in the boat, dear,
And sailed along with me,
Along the midnight deeps, dear,
Sailing the starlit sea.
IDENA WALSTAD BORGESON
I wonder when my call does come
To cross that mystic sea,
Will my soul cry, in anguish wrung,
"What have you done to me?
You kept me hidden all the while
You played with life ..alone.
Earth's joys you let your heart beguile.
Tis I who must atone!"
Or will it speak, in accents low,
When part some day we must,
"Life's work well done. To God I go.
In Him you've put my trust."
LUMAN R. BOWDISH
Keen is the clear deep vault of night,
Far aslant at noon hangs dull the sun;
From an avenging shadow sprite
The daylight Nymphs seem forced to run.
Tense frost the brooks of the mountain hold,
The valley is smothered, enshrouded the lake;
Wild blares the wind from Northern Pole,
Warning winged stragglers the marsh to forsake
For a sunnier clime. In tones of awe
The shrill night voices carnival keep
With the pale moon. Now Nature will draw
Slumber robes hastily 'bout her form,
And while she yields to the angel Sleep,
Boreas molds the sullen storm.
THE MAGIC TOUCH
Great is the man
Who sees greatness in another's soul
And sets it free with his magic touch.
He's like the sun
That lifts the bud up
To unfold in rare beauty;
That's the great man's duty.
A SONGSTRESS SANG
Within a crowded concert hall
A songstress sang; I soon forgot
All the woes I thought I had.
How small indeed they were
Compared with all the never-dying lyrics
That she so kindly gave us there.
I laughed, I danced, I sang,
I watched the foreign campfires glow;
I sat in pensive mood, resigned,
Then up to win what should be mine.
A maiden died before my eyes:
i slumped and sighed, tears near the brini ;
A tempest raged, the billows rolled;
A lover to his lady crooned;
\ baby heard a lullaby
*\s evening shadows hovered near.
"Twas done too soon; but when 'twas o'er
1 went beneath the stars to stroll alone.
MARY BENANDER BOYLES
Peace is on a hillside,
Where contented cattle rest,
'Heath a giant shade tree,
Where the brown thrush builds a nest.
Peace is in the woodlands,
Where nodding flowers bloom,
Mirrored in the waters
Of a sleeping blue lagoon.
Peace is by a brook'side,
Where the bull-frog pipes a song,
Where minnows dive., and dart
As they move along.
Peace is in a cornfield,
In the rustle of the leaves,
Swaying in the sunshine
Whispering in the breeze.
FAREWELL FROM BATAAN
REVELA C. BOZMAN
You did not say good-bye
You were not there
Yesterday when I left to meet
My Saviour in the air.
God has said in Heaven
One thing I may not do:
Just for while we're parted,
I may not speak to you.
Til ask your guardian angel
To protect you and then
Smooth the wrinkles from your brow
Until we meet again.
But He's promised I shall meet you
As He opens Heaven's gate,
And my darling, I am lonely
As for you I watch and wait.
A PRAYER FOR TEACHERS
REV. A. E. BRADOW
We pray for strength to teach Thy Word,
For grace to learn of Thee, O Lord,
How best to show Thy Holy Way
To those we teach from day to day.
We ask for patience, Lord, that we
Thy little lambs may bring to Thee,
Well fed and nourished by Thy Word,
Believing what through us they've heard.
We pray for pow'r to seek and win
Each soul ensnared and gripped by sin.
To loose them from the fearful hold,
And safely bring them to Thy fold.
We ask for grace to show Thy love,
And by our lives to point above
The dross, and lust and earthly strife,
To shining hope and endless life.
REMEMBER PEARL HARBOR
CORA RHODE BRADY
Remember Pearl Harbor
On that cold December day
When hordes of earnest worshippers
Prepared to mark the day
That Christ was born in Bethlehem
To save the world from sin.
Remember the treacherous thunder
That roared from a cloudless sky.
Remember it was the Sabbath
A holy day and why
Such evil forces gathered
A loved country's peace to mar
And cast upon their nation contempt
Forever, a heathen nation's share
In God's own righteous judgment
On a day to enter fair.
LYDIA AGREE BRANDON
Who dat? Why, dat's Mistuh Brown.
Didn' yu' know he de riches' pusson in town?
Yas suh, yas suh, he- own dat great big sto;
Yas suh, de one wid de monstr'us glass do.
Naw suh, dat aint all he got;
Why, he own all de town up tuh dis spot.
Yas suh, yas suh, he sho am uh big success.
Why I scratch my haid? Well, he sho am, I guess.
Yas suh, he jist boss evuhthing;
Yas suh, he de haid uv de pulitikil ring.
Yas suh! He sho make yu toe de mahk.
Effen yu doant pay de rent, out chu go in de dahk.
Who dat? Why, lawsy, effen dat aint Mistuh Jim!
Co'se, evuhbody know him!
Naw suh, he aint what chu mout call prospus,
But he sho" am mfty good tuh us!
Yas suh, yas suh! dis niggah sho say postiv'ly.
Dat he sho am quality!
Naw suh! Aint no pusson evah tuhned down by Mistuh Jim,
But chu see his paw was quality befo' him.
Somewhere between infinity and earth
I must have failed to find
The thread of human fellowship
That binds all humankind.
For a moment I poised frightened,
Alone, a stranger on the reaches of the world,
Without a star to guide me
In a friendless chaos hurled
Alone, uncertain, frightened
In a vast and pathless world,
With the years so dim before me
Like a sooty serpent curled
And then, full silently, I went
Dark wandering down the years
A solitary figure all intent
Upon my icy pilgrimage of tears.
I ran away from my mother,
And played all night by the sea.
The wild waves chased each other,
And the stars shone down on me.
The mermaids whispered their secrets;
The shells sang me strange, sweet songs;
The wind wailed wild sharp stories;
And I listened all night long.
My mother came in the dawning,
When skies and sand dunes were gray:
She seemed all frightened and worried,
And led me back to the day.
There's rest in the hills of the west,
Where the pine trees whisper,
And the silver streams rustle by;
Where the sun blesses all with its golden rays,
There is the rest of the ages.
Out in the west where everyone is a friend of man,
Where the coyotes howl in the desert night,
Where the gun is a symbol of law,
Where stretches the golden desert sands,
At the foot of the mountains tall.
There in the west go and seek your rest,
And you'll find it among the mountains,
Across the desert's golden sand,
In the coyote's howl and the
Pine trees; whisper, you'll find a rest sublime.
PRELUDE IN OSHARP MINOR
(Written after hearing Rachmaninoff play his composition.)
EVELYN WYNN BREHM
Hate! Vengeance! War!
Wounded men, dying men,
Cringing, crawling, lying men,
Guns and gas, blood and blast
Wage! Labor! Strife!
Machinery roaring; commerce teeming;
Ceaseless sirens screeching, screaming;
Whirling, whistling, whining wheels
Civilization's harvest fields!
Silver money gold
Gleaming eyes and grabbing schemes,
Greed and graft and sickening scenes,
All for money silver money gold
Civilization's corroded mould!
Fiercely, wildly, it goes "round and 'round;
It's civilization in which mankind is drowned.
SPRING IS HERE
HAZEL G. STAGG BREMM
Spring is in the air; and on the ground
Apple blossom petals blow around.
Pretty April idly strolling through the trees
Invites the sleeping buds to waken and be leaves.
Graceful willow trees hang delicate green laces
Before ranvwashed lake windows; many places
The earth, not content with carpets green,
Used the blue of lupine and in between
The gold of poppies. Baby lambs
Flipping their tails, ignore the rame,
But nuzzle their mothers as they kneel.
Baby pigs with curly tails grunt and squeal,
And walk with the mincing steps of fat ladies
On very high heels. The drone of bees,
Mixing with the ache of lovely things,
Is swelling my heart until it sings
Of God's own promise of future cheer.
Spring is here! Spring is here!
HELEN MARIE BRENNAN
Into combat now
I shall enter straight
Of a gracious fate.
How lags my soul
When it surely knows
It can only go
Where my angel goes?
How can I yield
To rebellion wild
Who am forever
Though fighting evil
That sears and taints
How can I fail
Who know the saints?
And however sharp
Need I ever fear
Whose friend is God?
ELIZABETH BRYAN BREWER
In the soft sad glow
Of a brave blue candle
Sits one who
To a forgotten love
Romances of swift abeyance.
The light of lost youth
The too sad eyes.
The brave flame
Shadows that show
What youth expressed
Might have been:
What youth denied
Illuminates brave revolt
Sinking it shows
But shed no tear.
Nature is no egoist.
Life goes on--
GOD BLESS CHRISTMAS
God bless Christmas!
God bless the day!
God bless the prayers of those who pray!
God bless all men wherever they be!
God bless Christmas
And God bless me!
God bless Mary tender and fair
God bless the Baby, sleeping there
God bless the manger, and every beast
God bless the Wise Men, who came from the East.
God bless Joseph, and fathers all
God bless the children whose needs they call!
God bless the Star and the Christmas tree!
God bless Christmas, and God bless me!
God bless the Shepherds, watching by night
God bless the Angels, and God bless the Light!
God bless the Carols that flooded the sky!
God bless the Bells, that pealed on high!
God bless Christmas!
God bless the day!
Godbless the hearts of those who pray!
God bless all men wherever they be!
God bless Christmas
And God bless me!
THE GREAT ARTIST
He lays His crystal canvas
Across the earth's broad easel.
In lively strokes
He swishes and swirls His paint
Here and there
Deftly, swiftly, rhythmically,
He works in tones of light and shadow.
The trees are feather^edged in snow,
Twilight hangs like neon daylight in a glow,
Brightening nearby hill and sky above;
The miracle of darkness, reflecting light.
On silent feet, the antlercd buck and his doe
Quickly come and go,
Of the Artist as He gaily works
With flickering shadows, thrown by trees
Across a winding road, that leads to neighbor's door.
Beyond the door, the soul of man
Is warm and safe.
So, the Artist smiles
Now on His finishing strokes,
And rolls His lamp wick up
To shed its silver rays
Upon His legacy bestowed!
I WAS ONCE A WEARY PILGRIM
I was once a weary pilgrim
In the dreary walk of Life,
Traveling downward toward conclusion,
To a failure of a life.
I was once with sorrow laden,
, With a heart as cold as stone,
When a gentle arm came round me
And a voice, "Thou art Mine own!"
Then the weary load fell from me,
And my heart had ceased to fear,
Knowing Satan had no power
With my blessed Saviour near.
And I know that when He calls me
To cross Death's dark swelling tide,
I shall have no cause to dread it,
Jesus will be by my side.
ANNE S. BRIGHAM
I tried to stop remembering you at first,
And it was hard; the memory was so new,
Clear like a woodland pool which mirrors true
Each feathered branch till the reflected tree
Seems much more real than bough and leaf above.
It had the brightness of a summer's day.
How then remembering every word you said,
Yoru face, your voice, could I believe you gone
Forever from me?
And then the memory dulled.
The image in the pool grew dim as if
The skies above were overclouded now
Or passing ripples stirred the pictured calm.
The memory dulled perhaps because I had
Gone over it too much for memory is
A treacherous, vanishing thing.
I longed for peace and shelter from the storm
And thought that I could find it if once more
I saw the sea its crashing on the rocks,
And never people who might say your name.
I sought the field where grew one gnarled tree
The grasses windblown on a hill. But you
Were everywhere I went in field and wood.
For here we sat to watch the stars and clouds,
And up upon the hill path by the lake
I half expect to meet our very ghosts
Who walk together in the summer dusk
Where now I touch the crisped-up edges of
The reddened leaves.
CONSTANCE STARR BROCK
What good are tears,
They go so quickly.
They can not
Cover all my hurt
Or even feel like
That makes dry leaves
Grow green again.
You are not all to blame.
The weakness lies on
My side now.
I wanted to believe
And so I saw no other thing.
Now I must
Feel the heavy sadness
Of losing what
I wanted most.
And I must wait
Like quiet water
And you will
Never know my pain
For after all you promised
And nothing is an empty
A GHOST STORY
ALICE DENNIS BROCKLEY
There are ghosts abroad tonight!
So plainly do I see them,
I can almost reach and touch them.
The hills are black,
The moon is white,
There are ghosts abroad tonight.
They cluster 'round the sunken drit:
I know that they are there;
I sense their presence in the air!
There is so much of death,
For here with gasping breath
Hope died in the sunken drift.
Where is he who gave it birth?
Is there a buried heart and soul
In this sunken prospect hole?
Are those knotted hands at rest
Folded on a boney chest?
Did he get a just reward on earth?
The ghosts don't want to tell!
They flutter 'round the silent tomb
And the air is filled with gloom.
The trees and streams won't say a word-
Like as not they never heard,
And I will never know! Just as well!
Yet a consciousness of peace,
On a quiet autumn "evening
Memories that never cease.
As I sit and think with longing
On the happy days gone by,
It is as the summer evenings,
Others will be lingering nigh;
Others who fill the vacant places
Of the friends who now are gone;
Yet as I gaze upon new faces
Memories of old ones linger on.
Some are sad and others happy,
Some are poignant, others faint,
And as I gaze upon them mutely,
Put them away with some restraint
"Til some other Autumn evening
They come like an old refrain,
'Til at last Fve gone to join them,
Free at length from toil and pain.
FLORENCE REED BROWN
I sat down in my old arm chair
To pause for a moment from worry and care.
And, as I sat there, I fell asleep,
Then suddenly I began to weep.
A hand laid gently on my head,
And a voice I well remember said:
"Why those tears, and why so sad,
You who were always so merry and glad?"
"Oh! Mother you have come back to me,
You always could help and of comfort be,
So Fll tell you why I shed these tears,
Tell you of all my sorrows and fears.
"My children have grown and gone away,
And they won't be with me on my birthday.
The things of the world absorb their time,
They seldom think of their childhood's shrine."
Unrestrained, I began to cry,
And her sweet voice said, "There's no reason why
You should grieve and feel so sad,
Things are really not so bad.
"With aching heart and weary feet
Fve gone to work with nothing to eat.
Often without food Fd do
That there'd be bread and milk for you/ 11
Another spirit entered the room
And said, "Why all this sorrow and gloom?
You have paid the penalty, as many another
For the privilege of being a mother. 11
Then the great Mother said, "I have stood beside
A cross where my son was crucified.
Great nails were driven through his hands and feet
A heartbreaking scene for a Mother's eyes to meet.
Flying over a lake
Bring sadness to my heart.
And my soul grieves
For all the countless times
They flew this way
And no one saw.
JEROME KING BROWN
Deep etched within the hopes of all mankind;
Writ down in human blood and sweat and tears;
Cried out by men whose deeds transcend the years;
By deaths of countless men forever signed;
Above all thought of men to valor blind
Through prejudice to baseless hopes and fears;
The works of whom the enemy reveres,
And can not to oblivion be consigned:
For you, who stood 'gainst might of tank and plane;
For you, to whose glory man can never add;
For you, a symbol that can not be slain;
For you, in freedom's matchless courage clad;
For you, who staked your life that peace might reign:
For you we pledge our lives, Oh Stalingrad!
LESSONS FROM LIFE
MAUD MONTGOMERY BROWN
The roses are red by the garden wall
One by one they fade and fall,
Each one seeming to represent
The Will of the Maker by whom it was sent.
The swallows wheel slowly around the old barn,
Seeking for seeds o'er hill and tarn.
Knowing full well He will supply
Everything good as the days go by.
Our lives clearly show a slow design
Patterned by years in tracery fine
A tapestried web of joy and sorrows,
Of sad todays and gay tomorrows.
Ah, do they really represent
The Will of the Father by whom they were lent?
WHO COULD KNOW
MARY JOHN BROWN
She walked sedately down the street
A thin gangling girl with short brown hair,
And eyes too big, in a face too drab.
But who could know,
As she did know,
That she rode a gallant charger
Behind a wonderful prince,
And her hair was long and golden,
And her eyes were filled with mists.
Her clothes were silver and satin
And her voice the sound of a flute.
But who could know,
As the little girl knew,
That all these things were true,
For she walked sedately down the street,
A thin, gangling girl with short brown hair,
And eyes too big, in a face too drab.
R. VERNON BROWN
I prayed tonight,
And from my soul arose the heartaches of another day
To drift away
Like giant clouds which pour forth showers of billowy peace,
Twas sweet to ask forgiveness . . .
"Twas joy that did not fade . . .
Tomorrow will be beautiful,
Tonight, I prayed.
STELLA CLARK BROWN
I looked to the hills one morning in May,
With a song in my heart, and I wanted to pray
And thank God for this beautiful earth,
With life's joy and gladness, its laughter and mirth;
And, too, I would thank Him for sun after rain,
Joy after sorrow, peace after pain.
These thoughts came to me while cleaning the lamp,
That we might have light at our summer camp;
And I said, "Is the lamp of my life shining bright,
That others may know 1 have found that true light
Which shines on our pathway along life's long road,
That leads us at last to that hlsesed abode?"
So, away to the hills I looked once more
And said, "Father, forgive where Fve erred before,
Help me keep my lamp bright forevcrmorc."
PHILIP L. BROWNE
Bright sunlight through my window,
The happy chirping of the robins
The glint of golden tresses,
Clinging lovers, hand in hand,
The rustle of the cedar,
And distant bleat of baby lamb
The warmth of your lips,
And a thousand twinkling windows
The lovely chimes of Beaumont,
And my sweet sleep of soft exhaustion
ILLUSION AT SUNRISE
ANNE DODSON BUCK
Looking wistfully through her window,
One clear morning in June,
She was filled with wonderment,
With sheer delight,
To see sprinkled near her door,
What seemed diamonds of white, pale blue,
And amber shades each one ablaze
In the early morning light.
What had done this magical thing of the night?
Sown jewels at her door,
And transformed grass into diamond sprays?
Nature had done this wonderful thing.
She steals softly to our grounds by night,
Sprinkles the grass with sparkling jewels,
Or perhaps opens a blossom,
Showing its color,
Sprinkling each petal with dewdrops,
Leaving us to our amazement, admiration
And moments of keenest delight!
VERA CALDWELL BUFKIN
I know that there will come a day
When life will cease for me.
Til miss it all each little part
But so the world must be.
Ill miss the snow, the soft warm rain,
The wind that mussed my hair.
And there are times, I must admit,
It doesn't seem quite fair.
Fll miss the flowers, the songs of birds,
The spring in early May.
But even more than this Til miss
The smell of new mown hay.
I'm sure Fll miss the sun and moon
And too, the great North Star.
And then, as now, I know that they
Will still seem much too far.
Til hate to leave the sea, the streams,
The lakes that lap the shore.
It's hard to think Fll never sec
The mountains any more.
But I suppose Fll miss the plains
Just every bit as much.
I can't forget the desert land
For it's another touch.
It's true I'll miss the arts and science
And things that I've been taught.
I've lived, I've loved and haven't spent
My life for simply naught.
The reason though, Fll hate to go
To make that one last train
Is just because I'll never see
Chicago's towers again.
I have loved always
The velvet of moth wings,
The fluffy white of falling snow,
And the voice of a bird that sings.
I have loved always
Wild daisies growing by a brook,
The powder of buttercup gold-
Purple violets hidden in a nook.
I have loved always
The feel of mist and rain,
The wind's early morning caress;
Meadows of clover and fields of grain.
I have loved always
The blooming of phlox in May,
And the friendly twinkling of stars
In the twilight's gray.
I have loved always
The sweet memories of the years;
And my cherished faith in a just God,
Who calmed my life fears.
INA FLOSSIE BURDETT
Do you remember the pussy-willows sunning
On bare branches among birds in the early spring air?
Do you remember their silvery gray furring?
Then you would know what the fairies will wear!
But if you forget all the magic of springtime
For you there will be no bluegird of happiness.
A King Midas enchantment enshrouds your poor heart,
And yours is a case for the May Queen's redress!
MILDRED BENNETT BURLEW
I start the day off happily
By springing out of bed.
At the kitchen door, I'm gay no more
I forgot to order bread.
A part of me just me be gypsy
The lure of roads does so appeal.
And new spring air makes me so tipsy,
I take strange corners on one wheel.
I got a red hot tip today
About a certain pony,
But when the evening paper came
It made the tip look phony.
I go to piano recitals,
I listen to one, two, or three,
But when my own darling's through playing,
The show is all over for me.
I'm sitting by the telephone
Why won't the darn thing ring?
Just one quick call, a certain voice
Would make my whole day sing.
Fm learning how to drive a car
A husband's teaching me.
I'm doing fine, you'd be surprised
'Cause he's not mine, you see.
I ought to be up and doing
With a heart for any fate,
But I love the 'stravagant feeling
Of bed, at half past eight.
PORGY AND BESS
LOUISE K. BURPEE
And there are mists above the city and smoke below
The people pass and time stands still
And the steeples of the churches reel in the mist
The square buildings lose their strength
And the drifting, coral mist flickers above New York.
There are yellow lines of light on the pavements
And white streaks, moving, shifting in the street.
And the city lies oppressed and breathing heavily
Strangled by the coral mist.
Now the push of the crowd through doors too narrow -
The feel of fur, satin, heavy tweed against damp hands
The rush of human smell
The secret being unfolded
The curtains lifted and faces singing:
"Summertime, when the livin' is easy "
And the faces blur in a dull brown
And fall into each other, moving in wild truth
And figures plunge with oaths and knives and songs
Killing in their hands and melodies in their souls.
And the heart is torn and figures become double
When seen through tears.
Then the strong end, with hope
With uplifted head, with sweaty brows
With music that hurts too much.
The press of the crowd again
The streaks of white light.
The window is opened and the mist rushes in
Entangling its heavy fingers in my hair.
The sky is coral and the buildings disappear in mist
The places are dark
The light places dotted geometrically
And the mists hurts my heart.
And a person speaks and asks
But no answer the mind has left the shell
Becoming the whirlpool of the soul
Thinking, thinking, rotating.
And they talk about how miserable it is
And close the windows:
"There's been no snow and Fm glad.
I hate the mist."
The poor laugh, the rich cry and I
I weep for the troubles of people
The troubles of people, the troubles of people-
The rich cry and the poor laugh
And the gallant face with the brave eyes
Swims in the mist.
But the people forget that he swims there
So quiet, for only me to see
And people forget the melodies, the killings
The heart thrillings of the secret.
They know it now; it's exciting no more.
And the brown faces fade
The face sinks in the mist
Yellow lines streak the pavement
The talk continues
And time begins once more.
And the mists above the city are coral.
The smoke below the city is gray, dull.
And we continue in its pallor.
ZELMA E. BURRIS
The gorgeous sunsets ever will recall your smiling face
As you stood beside the kitchen range and coaxed me
To leave the household cares and go with you
To stand in adoration of the glorious ending of the day.
But I refused!
I was a Martha then,
I had not learned to be a Mary and to choose the better
things of life.
Now you are gone!
I never can leave petty things of life behind
And hand in hand with you behold the wonders of God's love.
But I shall profit by my past mistake, dear friend,
Your message shall live on!
For now that I have learned the better way
I'll take my little son, your namesake dear,
And hand in hand from yonder hilltop we
Will watch the sunrise, God's promise of another day.
And as the pastel colors change through all the rainbow hues
To burst at last into the glory of the day,
We'll look beyond the beauteous handiwork
To Him whose gift to humans here below
Bids us "Look up,"
Then as we turn and face the downward slope of life
The glorious sunset in all its rosy hues
Will beckon us on.
And though we know the perfect day will soon be ended
And that our humble lives are nearly done
We'll march triumphant to the door of Heaven
Knowing full well we'll hear the Master say: "Well done!"
MAYRE DALY BUSICK
I watched an infant newly born
In the gray shadows of early morn;
I heard its first feeble cry,
And the mother's happy sigh.
I saw a school'boy's broken arm;
I told the mother there was no harm;
The fearful pain wouldn't last,
The arm would soon mend in a cast.
I watched a patient's labored breath
As she came from the shadow of death
And echoed the prayer of many lands:
God bless the doctor's skillful hands.
AUGUSTA FOSTER BUTLER
Oh! I would shake the stars from out the sky
If by their falling I might blind
My eye to this mad vision that I hold!
In desperation cause the winds to blow,
And bring from every branch on earth the leaves,
In hopes their rustle might become a roar
To drown the whisper of my heart to yours!
From East to West, Fd level hills, and call
The waves to leap the shore, and sweep the land
From pole to pole! But out of chaos there
Would rise another world! The broken bits
Would weld again, re-shape, and form anew
A world that is of nothing but the sight,
The sound, the brightness that is you!
CHARLES REDDEN BUTLER, JR.
When I behold the flowers of the earth,
The twinkling stars at night and moon on high,
And seek to know whence came their mystic birth,
And ponder o'er the blue within the sky,
And seek to understand the song of spring,
Know the last flake that falls upon the wall,
Number the flocks northbound upon the wing,
I can but thank the One Who made it all,
Thank Him and rest content within the thought
'Tis not for me to question God but in
His love to live at peace with all He's wrought,
Thus having lived to know Him as my Friend.
MARIE M. BUTLER
If you only knew, when the sun goes down,
What we boys in a far-off land
Would give for the look of a friendly book
Like the clasp of a friendly hand,
You would search through your attic, your libraries fine,
You would choose of your books the best,
Tales that stir with an upward touch,
Stories we'll read with a zest.
Those boxes of books that the children sent
Were as roses from heaven above;
They're scattered from Iceland to Singapore,
And they come from the kids we love.
In arctic cabin, in jungle hut,
On a winding road 'neath a tree,
On the sand of the desert, in China's hills,
The books are hailed with glee.
Perhaps some books that you've prized too much
Would bring you far more joy,
If you'd pack them well and send them away
To be shared with "somebody's boy."
For when we know that the hearts at home
Are "with us" in every campaign,
We'll fight to the finish, and see the world free,
And then we'll be home again.
RUTH ANN BUTTLER
Soul penetrating, uafathomable
Mystic blendings of sound
Inspired by some inner being
That moves the heartstrings
Ethereal notes in sublime succession
That vary with the Maker's mood -
Music, to exalt the spirit of mankind.
ROY A. BYERLEY, SR.
Fd wandered many a lonely, weary mile
Alone with Psyche my soul all the while,
Crossing many weird valleys
And sailing on phantom galleys,
When all at once I came face to face
In a lonely valley of Trace
With a ghoul from Weird Isle.
He was tall, lean and gaunt,
His eyes seem to want
But missed the beauty in the evening light,
And his hands were as cold as a winter night.
This grim, ungainly, ghastly ghoul
Haunted my very soul,
And I cared not to follow him to my goal.
I knew not the night of the year
When I was placed upon the bier,
But we sailed on through the night
On a sea of mystic light,
On past the moon,
On through the Valley of Gloom,
On by the door of an enchanted tomb.
My heart was ebbing all the while
We were sailing toward Weird Isle,
The land of shrouded lore.
But I reached not her shore.
For o'er the way there came a gleaming,
And I knew that I was dreaming-
Dreaming, and nothing more.
No dreaming will there be
When I embark upon the Mystic Sea.
THE TENTH BEATITUDE
RUBY BRYAN BYERLEY
A friend came into our midst,
Who heard, who saw and realized
A battle being fought
And came a blessing in disguise.
He was fearless of the cost;
Much sympathy he gave.
His reputation was at stake,
But a life he fought to save.
Kind Angels, when he is called
From his earthly home to one on high,
Let him always minister
In the land where they never die.
And if he seems a little tired
And wanders off to a haven of rest,
Fold your wings o'er his tired and happy life -
He was tried and found to pass the test.
Blessed is he whose light doth shine-
For it was said in olden times,
"Cast thy bread upon the waters" and see
All returned, even through eternity.
RICHARD HARDING BYRD
Music, like rippling water,
Music, like rustling leaves,
Music, like bellowing cannon,
Music, like dripping eaves,
Music, like lengthening shadows,
Music, like bursting morn,
Music, like waving wheat heads,
Music, like tassling corn,
Music,, mind's shining dream,
Music, a throbbing creation,
Music, rising from heart and soul
To be man's exaltation.
They said that Bill was bad, an awful boy;
Of pranks and scrapes he never seemed to tire:
To try some brand new joke was half his joy,
And nothing could his hapless soul inspire.
Yet underneath that rough and wayward mien
There dwelt a spirit rare, a subtle charm;
A strength whereon his buddy, weak, might lean
To brace his courage for the coming storm.
He'd never do a mean and sneaky trick,
Those clear gray eyes would blaze in scorn at such;
Though there were scores of boys that he could lick,
He never was the one to boast so much.
The years passed by, and Bill grew up they say,
To me hell always be a little boy.
I saw him at the time he went away,
A volunteer, his country's pride and joy,
Across the sea our Bill has gone to fight;
Unflinchingly he'll face the desperate foe:
He'll do his share to press the cause of right,
Our little school boy of the long ago.
Dear Lord, we tremble in this fearful hour,
For childhood's precious possibilities
The Bills, and Toms, and Sues, oh, by Thy power,
Watch o'er and keep them for Thy use and praise.
Come let's walk to the top of yon hill and view the sun.
Tis like a ball of molten iron, gleaming forth on the
brink of the horizon,
Glaring, streaming, dripping huge tears of burning ore."
Miranda came, knowing too well that she dare not spill one thought
that was begun.
Following the tall trance'enclosed figure, she stumbled
over ravines that his elevated Spirit seemed to soar.
"What is its power?
"'Tis perhaps the throne of God, my love."
Her voice quivered, as she spoke of things so Divine
yet, the rapture that radiated from his face, was quite enough.
"Ah! 'tis so.
Is it not said that he shines forth such radiance that man can not
Then it must be He.
God the Divine, the Light, the source of all things,
God the son, Sun?
God is God, the Son is God,
God is Sun
"Yes, my love."
"That is its power."
His limp figure slowly settled to the ground, and he looked about
him as if bewildered, then
the ground, it's covered with flint, look, why they're arrows, mil lions
A battle must have been fought upon this hill."
"Yes, many years ago, my love."
"'Tis a tragic thought, Miranda.
The Indian peoples, free, happy, in a world of peace;
Then to have that world shattered stolen, and destroyed by the
progress of man?
'Tis not just, Miranda/'
"That is true, my love."
"'Tis the natural law of man. Man is forever seeking better things
'tis a restless Spirit that drives him, and inspires him to move,
to create, to acquire and destroy."
"Then Miranda; man is a cell through which God works; when in
harmony, there's peace.
God stirs him to restlessness, as a warning perhaps,
"Yes, my love."
"Then, that is Faith."
IF FOR SICK NURSES
(With apologies to Mr. Kipling and hopes of pardon.)
MARGARET VICKREY CARLSON
If you can lie quietly in a hospital bed
While other nurses are rushing to and fro;
If you can follow strictly the doctor's orders
And never ask why and when and so and so,
If you can breathe deeply under an ether cone
Yet retain a professional dignity and the manners you
learned at home;
If later when the thrilling "gas pains" rage
You can keep smiling and really "act your age"
If you can take all your treatments, every one
Pretending that nothing could be more fun;
If you can see splints and plaster paris headed your way,
And refrain from telling the student nurses just what to
do and where to stay.
If you can have the murphy drip
Served in place of your dinner tray,
And say, "Oh never mind, I rather like it that way"--
When you go for a metabolic test
In the wheel chair or on the "cart/' 1
If you can act as though chewing rubber
And having your nose pinched are of the highest art;
If you can take your wash water,
When the night and day divide;
If you can wash a while, take a nap,
If you can lie "perfectly quiet" like dead,
While the electric cardiograph bu^es at your head
If when in the middle of a nap
The laboratory "tech" comes breeding in,
You can grin and say "Sure go ahead,
What arc a few cc. of blood among friends "
If you can greet a stranger as a caller with a smile,
When you long to give a groan of woe;
If you can accept the leftover flowers,
From the dead or who knows;
If you can listen to the wonders of faith cures,
And "stat" swallow the bitter dose or perhaps a pill;
You are sure to get well my dear,
And never doubt you will.
MR. REX CARR
There arc two sides to every question,
You hear each person say,
As there are two paths to travel -
The right and the wrong way.
I wonder which path you follow,
Or do you stop to care?
Have you forgotten our Saviour
And the place in His heart that we share?
He is waiting at the end of one path
Satan is at the end of one, too.
Both will greet you with open arms
When your days on earth are through.
The Lord will make you happy forever
Torture is the promise of the Devil.
It will be too late to change your path
When your body lies beneath earth's level.
THERE SHALL BE A LIGHT
DOROTHY C. CARRIER
As darkness descends upon the world,
And Right is threatened by Might,
There is no need to feel despair,
For there shall be a Light.
See it softly shining
In the Watchtowcr of the world
In the very midst of war's dread gloom,
The Torch of Light is hurled.
Its gleam is like a challenge
To the dreaded Prince of Night.
Don't give up hope, the Dawn will come,
And there shall be a Light.
There shall be no night to daunt us,
The Dove of Peace will alight.
The blackness of war will fade away,
And there shall be a Light.
THIS TOO SHALL PASS AWAY
I am a bomb.
Today I shall destroy a great cathedral.
My brothers, likewise, will destroy
Hospitals, churches, schools, and homes.
Only worthless fragments remain
When our work is done.
I am a bomb.
I should be proud that I am able to obliterate all things
No matter what the sise or worth;
That ancient edifices shall be no more
When my work is done.
I am a bomb.
I laugh to think that so much faith is placed in me.
For I can not conquer all
One adversary still remains untouched, unharmed,
When my work is done.
I am a bomb.
I know that I have only temporary power,
For there is something in the heart of man,
Something great, something strong
Some call it love of God,
Some love of beauty, or freedom.
But by whatever name I only know
It enables man to rebuild the pieces that remain
When my work is done.
It constantly defies me,
It rises against me
And plainly shows the futility of my labors.
That is why I laugh when you place faith in me.
I am only a bomb.
LUCILLE JU ANITA CARROLL
Awake, thou child of God
To see the gentle beauty of nature;
Grass, dew-pearled with droplets,
Water mumbling within peaceful brooks,
Trees reaching their mighty arms outward
Protecting insects, tiny flowers.
Awake, thou beautiful dreamer
And see how perfect is Thy Maker.
THE BROKEN CHAIN
MARY E. CARROLL
Another chain in my life is broken,
And again I must say good-bye.
To you I leave the link as a token
I hope we meet again ere we die.
Friendship is the link I leave you
The happy days Fll never forget.
Though saying good-bye makes me blue,
I will never be sorry that we met.
Looking over the links in after years,
I can see you in my dreams.
Though I know that it will bring bitter tears,
It will be like the golden sunbeams.
(Goddess of Mercy)
I hold a bit of cherry-wood
Carved with infinite patience
By an old man in China
An old man with seamed face
Whose beady eyes see a vision
As old as his ancient race.
It fits easily within my hand,
The Goddess of Mercy from that far-off land.
With thrilling, mystic rhythm
Her miniature figure seems to sway
Gently, tirelessly as a mother would
\Vho quieting her frightened babe begins to pray.
Oh, Goddess of Mercy, and you, Old Man,
What secret do you know
You from that tortured land?
Tell us! Reveal it, now, I plead,
That we, too, may know
And about our daily tasks continue to go,
Forgiving and undismayed,
Confident that in time this war will cease,
And all races of man will live together again in peace!
MANFRED A. CARTER
I climbed the leaden hills
That reeked with dusty sage;
I yearned for living trees of green
Where rivers mark the desert page
I hated all the rising heat;
I wanted just to wash my feet.
Until I rode away
I used to think them blue;
But now I see the hills afar,
Gold, green, and purple too;
God's hills as far as I can stare
God's purple cloak for evening wear.
SUSAN E. CARTER
I dreamed I roamed among the stars with you,
Through magic, unseen pathways hand-in-hand,
Celestial Stardust made the only clouds,
Our brightest dreams shone clearer, close at hand.
That night the great Omnipotence had shared
With us his countless worlds of golden fire;
The singing stars, majestic planets, all
Swung to our will, obeyed our least desire.
When radiant morning touched the depths of space,
The heavenly wonder faded at her light;
And we, dethroned kings, went winging down,
The vision glorious vanished with the night.
And now the stars are very far away,
A'twinklc coldly in the distant skies.
Yet surely it could not have been a dream,
For, dear, I see the Stardust in your eyes.
ROSALINE KIRKPATRICK CASSIDY
1 could not bear the weight of dragging years
That overflow in sighs and salty tears;
I could not brook the thrust of crowding joys
To pierce the passive shield my mind deploys;
I could not in the current keep afloat
In my own, all too fragile, boat;
I could not at the close of earthly life
Lie down and say, "Come, Death, the knife T-
I could not at the utmost face the grave,
Had I not faith in God my soul to save.
The night, the blackout, then the raid,
We've shed some tears, are we afraid?
Are we afraid of the sullen roar
Of enemy bombers near our shore?
And screaming sirens that foretell
Shocking destruction and imminent hell?
No, for our eyes though wet with tears,
Can see the answer to our fears
In the answering eyes of those we love,
Who pray to the powers there above
To love and protect us through this strife
And give the reward of eternal life.
NIGHT THOUGHTS AND MEMORIES
B. ELISABETH CAVAN
The memory of you comes like a gentle refreshing wind that relieves
the stifling of my heart which has long felt the need of clean
Remembering is no effort. So many lovely things to recall
Your voice, your songs, your presence alone gave peacefulness to
With you I could be free no pretense, no being cautious no
Even in silence I felt you understood my mood.
In silence our very hearts did mingle and dream together; no words.
were spoken, yet, each knew what would have been said had we
given voice to our thoughts, our dreams.
Better than the minting of a gold-crowned \ing
Is the safe'\ept memory of a lovely thing.
IT HAS BEEN NICE
THOMAS A. CHADSEY
It has been nice
To dwell upon the earth;
To love and honor those,
The ones who gave us birth.
To rise up when
The sun begins to peep
Upon a lush, green earth,
Where people lie asleep.
To see the days
Pass swiftly from our sight,
And stars appear above
To welcome in the night.
To see life pass
Before our wondering eyes;
The figures on the Stage,
With sorrow, laughs and sighs.
To see the sights
Of Nature and of God;
The glories of the sea,
The wonders of the sod.
The wonders, too,
That man alone has made,
To better man and life,
With science as an aid.
And then I saw,
That while I mused on men,
So had Life mused on me
And there appeared the end.
And now my soul
Shall take its place with God;
Wliile my poor shell of life
Rests calmly "neath the sod.
ALICE J. CHAFFEE
As I look at the sky to the westward,
A beautiful picture I see-
There are islands and beautiful cities,
There are mountains and rolling seas;
There's a wonderful glory transcending
The whole of the scene I behold
And the tress in the forest I picture
Have leaves that are outlined with gold.
"Pis surely a marvelous painter
WTiose brush can make colors so grand,
That glow with such mystical brightness,
Changing all of the picture at hand
Into one great conception of Heaven
As we can imagine it's planned.
But look, how the scene is changing
A gentle wind seems unfurled
To make over all of my picture
And change scenes in my sunset world.
The mountains become a deep purple,
Fluffy ships sail away on the breeze;
Cities melt in the mist of the cloudland.
Who's the painter o f scenes like these?
I watch till my picture has faded
And feel in my mind I have trod
In a beautiful picture of Heaven
Whose maker and painter is God.
This is our flag, the grand old flag,
That flics to make men free.
May we earn the right,
Through freedom's fight,
To keep it the land of liberty.
We must all get in
With the will to win,
The sooner the victory to be.
We have God to thank,
For the file and rank
Of our great democracy.
His blessing to us he gave,
Our duty it is to save
This freedom from forces far over the sea.
The bees were building empire
When Solomon rode by,
And white- frilled mushrooms hold their court
Though Louis Seize may die.
The ants in their dim galleries
Work on and on and on,
When courtiers are choked with dust
And all their brightness gone.
An oak outlasts a Pharoah
A willow mourns his fool;
While human kingdoms totter,
Earth holds unchanging rule.
A sprout came forth from the good Earth,
The stem was green and strong.
The leaves were as fresh as the dewdrops,
It laughed with the breeze's song.
From out the sky's deep blueness,
The Master looked from aobve,
And gently caressed the bud's fragrance,
And gave to it of his love.
The pedals, so slowly they opened,
With beauty as fresh as snows,
The angels gathered about it
And softly called it the rose.
MARY E. CHEDISTER
If wanting and doing without
Is learning to live,
Is character building,
Then I have lived poignant centuries,
A character as strong as
Blue'blade steel, and as true.
But what to me are truth and centuries?
MARY VIDA CHEEK
Make your plans to fit in
With your castles in the air
It's a very simple thing to start,
But hard to keep them there.
When jobs look big and failure
Seems to stare you in the eye,
Remember then those plans you made
And be glad you made them high.
This is Wealth
To know that you
Unto each duty
Have been true.
This is Wealth
For you to know
THIS IS WEALTH
JESSIE ANN CHEFFEY
That seeds of gladness
You can sow.
This is Wealth
For you to see
Joys afloat, to gladden
You and me.
This is Wealth
For you to hear
The melodies caught
By a listening ear.
This is Wealth
For you to be
Contented and Godly
That folks may see,
There are many joys to bless
When they value money less!
PRAYER FOR THE FIGHTING MEN
FRANCES BARBARA CHERELLI
Eternal Father, Judge of all, Ruler of destiny,
Guide and protect our boys for us on land and on the sea.
They're thinking not of themselves out there, alone and far away-
Thcy're thinking of the friends they left behind just yesterday.
They're hoping that we have done our part,
As we pledged from the very start,
For the ultimate victory to be ours
Will be attained only through hard wrought hours.
By them, by us, yes, everyone,
United, perservering, Your will be done.
Faith everlasting, in You so high,
King of the earth and of the sky.
ROCKED IN THE CRADLE OF THE WEST
ALTA BROWN CHITTENDEN
Mother sang Sweet Clementine out on the Utah Trail
As we gathered "round the evening campfirc bright;
Prairie train had halted as the moon rose silvery pale
And the desert lay behind as black as night.
Covered wagons rolled again just at the break of day,
Weary miles along the trail they slowly trod;
Every heart was filled with hope, and courage marked the way
With each western song rang out their trust in God.
Rocked in the cradle of the west,
I lay me down in peace and rest.
Rocked in the cradle of the west,
I dream the dream I love the best:
Til hear again the lullabies my Mother used to sing,
Fll hear my dear old Daddy say we'll reach there in the spring.
Rocked in the cradle of the west,
The memory hours Til always love the best.
Fair April's sunshine lulls the Lone Star State,
So sweet with orange blooms all life in tune.
The quivering air, in silence, senses hate,
Then madly rushes upward, none too soon.
The gale, close censored in the ice^capped sone,
Comes pouncing, unawares, on stream and spring
With freezing breath. Winter crops lie prone.
It leaves us stunned confused no creature sings.
Away, the Norther scatters death and woe
In swirling sweeps of angry sleety clouds.
The blast in fury, like a frenzied foe,
With stinging gritty spray, all life enshrouds.
The fiend, insensate, heeds not weal nor woe;
But loss reveals the truth we need to know.
CLARA BIRGITTE CHRISTEN SEN
Summer sings farewell again
With a tender sad Amen
And a benediction sweet
Blessing harvest days so fleet;
Days that did our hopes renew
And our hearts with love imbue;
Days that did our thoughts uplift
By some rare gift and set adrift
A prayer for faith
And will to trust
In God above,
With strength to run till setting sun
And we life's golden ball have spun,
And life's cycle glows complete
Like the harvest moon
O'er the golden wheat.
ZOE BRANEGAN CHRISTIN
There in the Land of Poppies
Where all our dreams come true,
You came as a vision to me
And I fell in love with you.
You were dressed in cobweb laces,
Moonbeams glistened like jewels rare,
Your hair was unbound and flowing,
Holding red poppies fair.
You spoke and your voice was music,
Like the chime of a silver bell,
The soft murmur of summer breezes,
Dancing in a perfumed dell.
Your touch, light as a snowflake falling,
Melting in a gentian's blue,
Soft, tender and loving,
Giving the spirit of you.
WILLA DAISY CHRISTY
There he stands with outstretched hands, as though in benediction.
While fingers clutch at the throats of his wretched victims.
First with honied words he woos his foes (the road to Hell is paved
with good intentions).
"Our New Order will remake the world, 1 ' he shouts aloud and the
crowd replies "Heil Hitler!"
"The time must come when men must bow unto the mighty
And brave men, silent, rise to make the world free again.
OLD SANTA FE
B. F. CLARK
Santa Fe, how old, how old,
How nobly you lie
Beneath a field of silver stars
That adorn a turquoise sky.
How interesting your crooked streets,
Your historic vine'dad halls,
And the names of your daring men
That built those heavy walls.
Old Santa Fe, old Santa Fe,
I walk your streets with pride,
Where'er I go day or night
Walk spirits at my side.
You say they're dead?
It isn't so
It was only flesh that died.
Santa Fe, so old and gray,
Long may you nobly lie
Beneath that field of silver stars,
That adorn a turquoise sky.
A CHRISTMAS SONG
MINNIE MASON CLAYBAUGH
It is Christmas. The sleigh hells are ringing,
The moonlight is bright on the snow;
In the chapels glad voiees are singing,
Now jubilantly swelling, now low.
This Christmas my heart has a feeling
That as never before I now know
How He felt who came to bring healing
To His perishing creatures below.
He left His glad home with the angels
To bring us His radiant light,
The glory of all the archangels
To set His bright star in our night.
The One who had never known sorrow
Took on the marred form of a man,
To suffer on many a morrow,
As only humanity can.
He chose the way of the scourging,
The mocking and insult and jeers,
And when the ways were diverging
He followed the one through earth's tears.
He knelt in the garden of Weeping,
And prayed while the faithless ones slept;
And while the traitor came creeping
Great tears of His life blood He wept.
In calmless His own cross He carried
To die as a sinner might do;
In a drear place of tombs was He buried
But He rose for me, and for you.
His Star shines tonight in its glory.
We see it from near and from far,
And sing in glad anthems the story
Of Baby and angels and Star.
He asked for bread and I gave crumbs;
He asked for alms and I gave none;
He asked for blood and I gave wine;
He asked for love and I gave mine.
Or did I give him love at all?
Through me there nans a dreadful pall,
For I must use these other things
To share the love that His life brings.
Floating like dreamy clouds
On the horizon
In many places,
Smiling then frowning,-
As they leave
Spent in endless
Amid hopeless tears
Thrown to the winds
H. M. CLEMENTS
It's mighty aggravating when you're chilled most through and
To have the ration board inform you that there's nothing they can
Just take your little problem into O. P. A.
For all our decisions must depend on what they say.
I'm getting madder and madder with every one of the lot
Who call the items shortages that I'm satisfied we've got.
They tied up all my rubber and they skimp me on my sweets,
And soon the new point rationing will take away my meats.
And wifey hit the ceiling when they cut her gasoline
And forced her home with sonny, whom she had hardly seen.
We've talked the whole thing over and decided what we'll do,
Just fold up all our businesses and bid the boys adieu.
Last night my eyes were opened as I peeped across the sea
At an old Russian woman down on her bended knee.
She was leaning over her husband, who was lying in the snow
Frozen like a mummy in the tombs of long ago.
I found myself in England amid the bombed debris
And sailing in the ocean, with Rick a^cussin' me.
Soon my dream was over but the thoughts in me were stored
And now I am a member of the local rationing board.
GOD WOULD SMILE
MARGARET E. COCHRAN
If we could banish hate and greed
And harbor only love,
When friend or foe we chance to meet
In shop or church or school or street,
Then God would smile above.
If we would lend a helping hand
To some forsaken brother,
And others' faults would understand,
Spread kindliness throughout each land,
Have faith in one another.
If jealousy was never felt,
To crime we closed the door,
And every day we meekly knelt,
Communion with our Father held,
Then peace would reign forevermore.
I sec footsteps in the snow beside me every place I go,
And though I turn and see but two, I surely know that you're there,
For space and time and form are naught, but conquered by a
That travels in an unknown way, and so I feel you here today.
Beside me in this lovely place, I sec again your eager face,
That defies forgetfulness of time and eternally still sublime,
On memory's dusty pages where you're still mine through countless
Within the flickering, firelight's soft glow
I watched the lissome, lightsome forms of flame
That leaping upward laughed, and sought to throw
A silhouette, as though in joyous game
How warily, how wantonly they danced!
On floor of brilliant blue and dusky red,
As if a Persian potentate, entranced,
His prayer^rug for their tiny toes had spread.
And then one flame, far brighter than the rest
Resolved itself in shivering, shimmering rays,
As when the sun, of halcyon mood possessed,
Upon a dew-drenched meadow softly plays.
And laughter heard in all the lands again,
It glimmered, glistened, formed itself anew,
Then rose with undulating grace 'twas you!
DOROTHEA E. COLEMAN
The peace of which we dreamed will come again,
Now that dear hope is ours around the earth;
In winter's shroud dare we despair of spring? Rebirth
Is God's whether of nations or of men.
We ask Him for the quiet day now spent,
The warmth of sunlight on the opening leaf,
The lingering note of dawning in the sky
To heal our grief.
We ask the tender touch of those we love,
The swift caress, the precious smile, the kiss
We can forget the steadfast pain, the unshed tears,
The music that was hushed must holier rise,
And laughter heard in all the lands again,
And we must build with hearts instead of hands
Cathedrals in the souls of broken men.
The sweeping tides, now crimsoned at their source,
Shall flow forever free of sorrow and of pain;
The only bit of heaven we ask or need
To hear the robin singing in the rain.
Unheralded by light this dark must pass
To dawn. So from the deep abyss of death
We daily rise. Life is so sweet, so good for us who died!
The blood of millions earth's last ransom paid
But One was ransomed for a dying world before
Love is the final weapon forged in life
That can defeat all war.
Vanquished the slave, the bond, the serf;
Now freeman all,
Unshackled on earth's clean and holy sod.
The love and blood poured out for us
Now recompensed by God.
LORRAINE E. COLLINS
God gave him little sturdy legs
He learned to walk.
God gave him the baby words to say
He learned to talk.
God made him sweet and lovable and gay
But God forgot to let him stay.
TO A SINGING STAR
It isn't who you are,
The way you look, or where
You live, that changes each
Small room in which I live.
It isn't what you say,
Or whether you arc gay
Or sad, or rich or poor,
Or right or wrong, or good
Or bad. This doesn't mean
A thing. But oh, the strange
And lovely feeling in my heart
Wliciie'er you sing!
NORINE B. CONNELLY
Did you ever sit near the chimney
When the fire was burning low,
Half close your eyelid curtains
And see the embers glow?
The flames make little creatures
In the fireplace so black.
I like to play it is a cave
And chase the animals back.
THE WHITE PARADE GOES MARCHING ON
BARBARA HOPE CONWAY
With courage undaunted and spirits high,
The white parade goes marching by
In wind, in rain, in storms prevailing
True angels of mercy never failing.
Never failing in far Bataan, Australia and Corrcgidor,
Tending the wounded, the weary, and sore
In spirit and body as well
Keep up the morale through the terrors of hell,
In the midst of the fighting, as the wounded fall,
Works the Red Cross Nurse 'tis duty's call.
Ready and willing to do her best,
To reduce the suffering, aid soldiers to rest,
And to forget their pain for a little while,
Still never forgetting a friendly smile.
She asks not why, or where, or when
She tackles the job that fate may send.
Though weary and spent as she may be,
Not a word of complaint or of wanting to be free
Of war's desolation and its thundering din,
The nurse with our soldiers is ready to win.
Ah, mothers praying for fighting sons,
Forget not the nurse behind the guns.
For it may be your boy she gives new life
To return to you when all the strife
Is over and peace comes- to stay
And life shall go on the American way.
IF I GO
If I go before the sun has set again,
you'll watch it for me, won't you, Jim?
And listen to the hymn the pine trees sing at night
when the wind blows through them?
And feed the squirrel when it gets so cold?
You will, Jim? If I should go? . . .
Til slip away, Jim, soft, and maybe you won't mind
so much, but you'll remember when the fire in
the stove burns low the way we used to love.
You'll remember, Jim, if I should slip away?
And don't forget the blucness of my eyes is there above,
when I am gone, and just the sky is left . . .
and I am not . . .
And if the sun should never warm my heart again, you'll
still remember it is yours, dear Jim? Although
I've gone away and you are here alone? . . .
You won't forget if I should go?
VIOLETTE INEZ COOK
On before the wind it races,
Never tiring seemingly;
But enjoying the pursuit
By the wind.
Always it is eating;
Lapping with its hungry tongue;
Forced ever onward
By the wind.
It is greedy and inhuman;
In its eagerness to be o'ertaken
By the wind.
DOWN BY MATAGORDA BAY
The acres here stretch to the tree-line,
The grass is new green from much rain,
The cows graze in multiplied clusters,
And golden flowers pattern the plain.
My mind sketches in the bright picture,
Then a bird sings anew an old song
"See! The Lord God planted a garden
The highways of Teaxs along!"
HANDS IN THE DARK
While rubble scatters under scream of shell
And walls and bridging roofs go tumbling down
Even in shelters, relatively well
The small ones clutch to them their fears, and moan
Lord! Take their little hands in Thine, a spell;
That, comforted, new confidence be won.
Where aged ones lie abed, hospitalized,
When sirens wail like banshees, bringing fear,
Extend Thine Hand; so it be realized
If dark should blanket, their relief is near.
VIOLA C. CORLEY
To have known this, strangely beautiful earth,
Smelling radiant vapors from a refulgent soil,
Seeing the mystery of growing things in birth,
Being a part of majestic creation in our toil;
To have been, to have drunk deeply of life,
Knowing the woing warmth of the sun,
The tang of the wind in its eternal strife
With the changing moods of the season's run;
To have looked beyond the horizon's far line,
Hearing above the plaintive whispering trees
Deep sounds of the dashing waves beating time
To elemental hymns of God's voice on the breeze;
Watching the guardians of the worlds on high
Weaving long golden chains that flash and glow
A bright pathway for all the children of the sky,
Eternal deathless beauty, the God of life bestows.
To have known and walked this witching earth,
I fear not the stately tread of death passing by.
It was for His reaping that God gave birth;
So I will answer the summons without a sigh.
Gladly flinging hack the gifts that life gave,
Asking for only one living glowing gem,
That one good deed I may have done to help pave
A path for the fearing to pass over to Him.
TRIBUTE TO POLAND
On a purple mounted hill I stood
And watched the world pass by
A world of sorrow, conflict, fear, and shame,
That made my soul within me die.
Disease and hunger passed by first,
And my thoughts went wandering to where lay
A conquered Poland, all bloody and torn,
Where once had been a land of wheat and hay.
The people with a soul depressed,
But a heart that says, Fight On, Fight On!
No matter whatever may happen,
They keep courage and strength to say- -Fight On!
CATHERINE L. COWLES
Sometimes there comes into your life
A moment of such perfect peace and happiness
That you long to keep it always as your own.
It is as if you held within your eager finger tips
A fragile bubble of some shadowed loveliness,
Which swiftly flying seconds soon will shatter
Into broken bits of memory.
COUNT NOT YOUR DEAD
H. THEODORE COX
Count not your dead among the bodies only
That sprawl inert on fields of battle lonely,
Robbed of the promises that life extended,
Their talents dissipated now expended.
But think: Here Music died, and Art, and Poetry.
Had these, whom Death has maimed, lived to maturity,
How shall we count the tale of song that might have thrilled
From lips that here and now forever have been stilled.
That brain, already less than dust it might have given
Those answers for which man through centuries has striven;
Those hands, now taloned by decay, still might have made
Machines which have not yet been dreamed, much less essayed.
And so we count our dead, and in the counting
Let's number too the toll of genius mounting;
For life at most is short, but art is long;
Much more than blood he sheds who kills a song.
NAOMI DIGMAN COX
The mighty river is angry with me.
I stole the trees from the timberland,
Blasted their roots to eternity.
I stole the river's expanding breath.
Stole the leaves that soaked up flood,
Let rich soil wash to its death.
I am thoughtless humanity.
Fve turned the river from a friend
Into a fearful enemy!
VIVIAN POPE COY
My sisters march where they have marched before-
Inside the battle zones! On questing feet,
With hands of mercy, faces set once more
To pattern of the army and the fleet.
Shadowlcss they go. Their lamps shed light
Before, behind, to left of them, to right;
A crimson cross against a field of white,
The standard they have carried to the light.
They march with men defenders of the Way,
Their loyalty, ideals, and valor share;
But their compassion is in bloody fray!
A mantle covering all who suffer there.
TWILIGHT AND YOU
DOLLIE BENTON CRAIG
When twilight shades come stealing
Just at the close of day,
And night bird songs are pealing
As shadows cross my way;
When all the world is singing
Her Nature's lullaby
And the moon throws out her silvery beams
Across the starlit sky,
It makes me think of you, dear,
And wish that you were nigh.
When crickets hopping from their beds
Begin their evening song,
And fireflies flit in forests deep
With glaring lanterns strong,
When busy little feet have stopped
Their travel for the day,
And buzzing wheels of progress
Have ceased their tune to play,
It always brings a thought of you
That holds me in its sway.
It may not be the day has brought
With all its toils and cares
A thought of you serenely sweet,
Of how you are, and where,
But when the night time gently comes
And bids the day adieu,
It matters not where I may be,
It brings me thoughts of you.
KING OF SPACE
Great bird with flashing wings of silver hue!
You go to all the realms of air there are,
Where stars afloat in misty, magic blue,
Befriend the stranger from the earth afar.
Your horizon grows wider, wider still,
Views I call mine are small; the world you own.
You bring to all the hearts of men a thrill,
Adventurous! Yet calm, your motors drone,
A painting from the Master Artist's hand
You see from where you are, O king of space!
The air, the sky, the sun, the sea, the land,
Perhaps the gleaming star; your wings are grace!
Soar on to burning heights we can not see,
Let truth arise to set the bonded free!
Call me from that majestic flight and tell
Just what romantic spires your eyes behold.
Do traffic cops of skyways treat you well?
Or do you seek the rainbow's pot of gold?
Ah, no! You have a mission to fulfill,
Your quest is peace,
When warlords 1 minds and hands, yes, hearts arc still,
World strife will cease.
Your mission done, the skylanes you can roam,
O king of space, romantic you can be!
And when the march of time can send you home
Perhaps you'll bring a souvenir to me.
Then pinions in repose again will rise
To sing of epic progress in the skies!
MYRTLE BRODIE CRAWFORD
The one who rocks a cradle in the wee hours of night,
The one who teaches little ones how to pray,
The one who walks in His footsteps day by day,
The one who leads youth in the path of right,
The one who comforts and serves as a light,
The one who faces troubles, come what may,
The one who gives much, takes little on life's way
Is Mother, my diamond, so clear and bright.
The one who gave the only son she had,
The one who willingly answers her country's call,
The one who lives above the things that are sad,
The one who knows the sweets, as well as the gall,
The one who lauds the good, forgives the bad
Is Mother, my diamond, and I am her lad.
SYMPHONY OF THE SEASONS
ANNIE LEE SMITH GROOM
To yellow, gold and orange hues
The garden's changed from summer blues,
To greet the autumn with days of gray,
And in the wind waves colors gay.
E'en though the days are growing short,
The heavy dew of night is caught
On each flower^face and stalk of green,
Which all day long unwilted seem.
When warm days change to sleet and cold,
Bright berries then the srubs will hold
To hail the robins from the north,
And cheer the wayfarer back and forth.
The winter soon will pass as night;
Comes spring which lifts all dreary blight
With narcissi, hyacinths and daffodils slight;
Brave crocus and tulips will bless the sight.
INSIDE OUR OLD BARN DOOR
ELEANOR G. GRUM
Hundreds of cob'webs under the eaves,
Intricate, dusty and gray;
A swallow's nest on the center beam,
With eggs just laid today.
Two paint-spotted ladders against the wall,
A sled of "old' fashioned" make;
A lobster pot and a fishing pole,
A line, a sinker, and rake.
Some coarse brown ropes coiled on the floor
Beneath the decp'scarrcd bench;
And musty old boxes and coffee tins,
A broken saw and wrench.
The mash barrel in the corner still
Contains an empty measure;
Beside it now a canvas tent
That once gave sporting pleasure.
A bit of hose, the rubber stiff,
One watering pot and pail;
Ten strawberry baskets, a rusty chain,
Nuts, and bolts, and nails.
Covered with dust a bicycle seat,
A muskrat trap and tag;
One old boot and overcoat,
A mat, and torn red flag.
The garden tools lie in their place,
Beside a broken chair:
The spade, the hoe, and rusty trowel,
Condition only fair.
Mildewed reins, a horse's collar,
Buckles, and a saddle;
Oarlock, painter, oar, and anchor,
Homemade sail, and paddle.
Figures chalked upon the wall,
Almost erased from sight;
Initials carved by youthful hands,
Marks for measured height.
A small boy's cart wheeMess now,
Feathers dust the floor;
What friendly things of yesterday,
Inside our old barn door.
NANNIE MAE CRUSE
I asked a flower it was o lovely thing,
A wayside joy that made the sad heart sing
1 asked how come that winsome grace and light
That kept it fragrant, its face forever bright.
For tossed by wind or drenched by chilling dew,
It scents the breeze, its smile still glimmers through,
Brave cheer diffusing to weary souls who run
It said, "I lift my face up to the sun."
I asked a man he was a noble one
Though not by birth or through fame's guerdons won;
Nor by much wealth or sophist lore of mind -
And yet on wings he soared above his kind
I asked how, minus these and sword or pen,
He stood an oak above all lesser men.
He said, "By lifting my face up from the sod
And gazing on the great stone-face of God!"
WARREN A. GULP
Give me Faith,
That I may lift my head
Above this tangled web.
Give me hope,
That I may see beyond
This mortal realm.
Give me charity,
That I may not condemn
Another's groping search.
I SAW DEATH
EVA BELL CUMMINGS
I saw Death.
She came into the room wherein I sat
Beside the one so dear to me;
He waited for her weeping,
For we knew that Death must come.
She came. So gently that we scarcely heard her
Yet, we felt a sudden stir and knew that she was there;
I cringed; afraid to look upon this thing
About to rend my happiness becloud my days,
But, suddenly, as though by caprice held, I turned
And saw her! yet, could this be Death?
She seemed something ethereal! Effulgcntly, she stood
And smiled, apolegetically, I thought.
Death beckoned to my dear one and then
I saw them at the door about to leave;
But, in a moment's time, I, too, was there,
Groping for words that never came; for needless words
Death knew my every thought!
Again she smiled and shook her head,
"Some other time Fll come for you!"
I hardly breathed. I waited hoping
And, then, I saw her hand Death's hand
Thrust slowly toward my own,
I touched the hand of Death!
But, it was soft and warm and very like my own;
We went. We three: my loved one, Death, and I.
We walked where utter beauty reigned.
We climbed the huge green pillows that were hills,
Befringed with st)ft, shy flowers peeking forth
To see what manner of marauder this might be;
Listening, we heard the tongue of Nature speak;
The trill of bird the sigh of stately grass,
The hastening of a brook, unbosoming its load;
The brooklet stopped and as a trick photographer
Stood still, took aim, and snapped our picture as we passed!
The whole world laughed. I, too, felt gay,
Where but a moment sooner I had wept.
"If this is Death"- my voice was strange and quiet,
"If this is Death, how beautiful to die!"
And, then, we stopped; somehow, I knew my walk was o'er;
It seemed I dare not look beyond
I knew 'twas not for me not yet
I stood and watched them go and felt content.
I turned, retraced my steps with purpose fresh,
Picked up my tasks which I had left
And, singing, started all anew!
Afraid of Death? Ah, no!
Sometimes afraid of Life but never Death!
Someday, I thought, someday, perhaps
When many years have sped, 111 go again
Go even farther than I . went today
But, I shall have no fear, for
I have walked with Death!
J. B. CUMMINS
When the summer sun is beaming,
And the heat gives torrid test,
Bringing yearnings for vacation,
Visioned trips and time to rest,
Then there is one consolation
Staying home and on the job:
Pleasures that we find at meal time,
When there's convupon'the'cob.
Recollections trail long pathways
Far remote to childhood years,
When at grace, the eyes were focussed
On a plate of steaming ears.
Season's feast with second helpings;
Memories that time won't rob,
Home, and home folks 'round the table,
We have scanned the gilded menus,
Listing foods from seven seas,
Feasted where the camp fires flickered,
Sat at banquets, ill at ease.
Only luncheons, family dinners,
Here and there through passing years.
Hold a place like homey serving,
Luscious golden roasting ears.
Dear God, I know not how to pray
So far my feet have gone astray,
So deep my soul has sunk in shame
I dare not speak Thy Holy Name.
And yet, my soul so much afraid
Cries out, O God, I need Thine aid;
I can not live and dare not die
This is my soul's despairing cry.
But He who made the leper whole
Can touch and cleanse my tortured soul,
Can bid my darkness turn to light,
Will guide my feet the path aright.
Send down Thy truth and power and might,
Give Thou my Godless eyes true sight,
Wash from my heart each sinful stain,
Let not one trace of shame remain.
Teach me to rise and fight again
Let Thou my soul surmount all pain,
Build Thou my hope, when Jordan's past
My soul shall dwell with God at last.
BRONSTON LOVING CURRY
It's to little hidden places
Where the noisy world can't go,
Close beside some limpid streamlet
Where cool waters ebb and flow;
It's among wild woody flowers
Underneath the leafy tree
Where unseen a million voices
Blend in matchless melody;
To such little hidden places
Weary souls should often plod,
Where in silent meditations
They come very close to God.
THE PLAIN SEWER OF WORDS
DORIS H. GUSHING
She wove a heavy quilt of words,
Of knitted words in spreads;
Crocheted them into counterpanes
To cover wide, old beds.
She could not twist French knots with them,
She could not tat with a phrase;
Nor could she draw threads of lacey thought
She was plain in all her ways.
THERE WILL BE OTHER SPRINGS
Hope is not lost, my heart,
Ours still is spring,
Cherry blossoms on low green hills,
Soft silken petals floating to the earth;
Ours the bird songs at eventide,
The soft night rain;
Ours the cool quiet of May mornings.
War can not destroy these;
They will go on.
Though blossoms may die and birds be stilled,
This mad nightmare of hate and death must end,
And better springs will come.
Beauty is not dead;
As long as wild cherries blow,
And trees grow green, and skies blue,
Hope is not lost;
There will be other springs.
The city is an outstretched arm
To give and take as it receives
The wealth of many continents,
The ships of many seas.
Its well'trained muscles work mechanically;
It feels the pulse of the nation, a regular beat;
With grip of steel, it holds with tyranny
The nation's marts and stocks which here compete.
The blood of many races feeds its arteries
With Herculean strength that gives it much prestige;
It rocks that ship, the cradle of all Democracies,
Which seeks nor serves no lord save its own liege.
Ships here like great winged gulls in hand
Are plucked of feather and caressed with love;
Here comes that raven from a troubled strand
To return with the branch of peaceful dove.
RUTH LEMACK DANIELS
Thin, hazy, distant hues;
Circling wings seeking clues to repletion;
Distant grays changing, purpling, glowing;
Shifting brightness blowing; bowing with petition
To the arching blue above.
Tis my desert. And I love.
Quiet solitude of age.
Distant, luring glimpses
Of the gently nearing future promised those
Who calmly live their gray and purple days;
Waiting for the happy joy fulfillment ever knows
In the heavenly blue above.
'Tis my life. And I live.
MARY LOUISE DARGAN
"I made it!" said the man, with accents of pride
As he looked at the flower garden against the old wall.
"See, there are blue violets and marigolds beside
Gray dusky miller and pink hollyhocks tall!
See what color gold, gray, blue and pink
And say, man, I made it! It's lovely, I think! 11
"I made it" said the woman to her admiring guest,
"Yes, the chocolate, the cocoanut, the caramel, the spice,
fruit and the spice yes, and the rest
You say they're good? Well, they do look nice!
I made it, you know. Yes? Isn't it nice?
44 T made it, oh muvver, an' all by myself!
See, that's where the fairies stay in that castle of rock!
\nd the teeniest door is for the teeniest elf
And that shell in their hall is their grandfathers' clock!
And, oh, muvver, doncha s'pose they'll sleep there tonight
An 1 know that I made it so snug and so tight? 1 '
"I made them!" said God, as He smiled from above
Upon His creations, all spread down below,
"And to my new wonders, 111 send them the love
Of creating a plenteous store!
They'll love to create, I made them. I know!"
APRIL IN THE WOODS
MARY KATHLEEN DARN ALL
I know it's April, by the woods,
Newdresscd in misty green
Of soft, yet bright, young leaves
Still timid with the fear of frost.
I know that if I venture in
Among the shadows cool,
I shall discover, nestled close
To some tree's friendly side,
Some violets that March has left,
Forgotten, in her haste.
NOREEN I. DAVEY
Dear God, don't let me be afraid
When it is timejio die.
Give me the faith to understand
To know the reason why
I do not mean to have these thoughts,
These fears that strive to cling
Down deep inside- -I want to hide
That cold, relentless thing.
And then again I think of you,
All fears I leave behind;
I know that when the time arrives,
You'll be there helpful, kind.
Help me to help myself, dear Lord,
That I Thy strength might know;
Thy glory and Thy might might reveal.
In all their loveliness.
Teach me the way, O blessed One,
And guide me by Thy light,
To seek Thy face, Thy presence rare,
In all humility.
EVAH BOONE DAVIS
Valentines in grand array,
Colorful and rainbow gay
These I saw in town today.
Did I say beyond compare?
I was wrong for there never
Could be found one half so fair
As this token cut with care:
One big heart tied with twine,
With no intricate design
Letters sadly out of line.
But no costly Valentine
Could compare with this of mine,
Fashioned by a boy of nine.
MY PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED
GRACE VIOLETT DAVIS
I prayed for contentment and peace after pain,
For rest when the long day was through.
Then from the Heavens, God sent the rain,
And the whole of the world seemed new.
I prayed for love unending and strong,
For beauty to live through the years.
My love grew out of an old, old song,
And a child smiled up through its tears.
I prayed for joy and I was sincere,
For heartease and true happiness,
And I looked around, you were near,
Your smile was a gentle caress.
The muddy pool of water
Left by the morning's rain
Reflects with inner beauty
The heaven whence it came.
THE MOON'S BLACKOUT
We're going to have more blackouts,
They are coming very soon,
But the thing that has me puzzled
Is, who'll black out the moon?
When the sirens start to wail,
And the lights are low and dim
There'll be one shining light on high
And we can't cover him.
But if the real test comes some night
And the moon gleams in the sky,
I know who'll drape the clouds across
Like curtains in the sky.
Then when the danger passes
And the scare is o'er,
The fleecy clouds will travel on
And the moon will shine once more.
FANNY P. DAY
Lord! Lend to me the eagle's wings,
That I may soar to better things
High in the clouds, away, away!
To greet the glorious dawn of day.
Help me to reach Nirvana, Lord,
Give me Thy understanding word;
Teach me, dear God, to dry my tears.
May I through all the coming years.
Hear not the things which vex my soul;
May I ascend to meet my goal,
As on eagle's wings, Lord, let me fly,
Take me with Thee to realms on high.
High! High! Above the petty things
Lord, lend to me the eagle's wings.
MY AUTUMN SONG
LOUISE ELEANOR DENKELBERG
This is my autumn song:
You may have heard the rustle of the wind
Whistling through the trees the crackling leaves.
The chestnuts popping as they strike the earth.
And you have watched the climbing ivy twine
Turning from green to multi-colored hues;
The birds winging their way to warmer climes
And church'bells ringing out their welcome chimes.
This is my autumn song:
You may have seen small figures scurrying
Along to school and afterwards to play.
Proud fathers, weary with long hours of toil,
Their footsteps homeward bound the end of day,
Cheered by mother's welcome at the door
And baby's bubbling laughter, mother's joy.
Oh, who can tell what season more abounds
In harmony, symmetry of design?
Nature excelled herself when she portrayed
A time of year so beautiful and fine
This is my autumn song.
FROM A HOSPITAL WINDOW
MABEL F. DENNETT
The sun is sinking in the skies,
The traffic roars along the street,
Edged by processionals of trees.
Life flows about my still retreat.
A distant bell prolongs its sound,
Folk hurrying homeward round the bends
A swift fire-engine dashes on.
Without my inner door lies pain,
And healing's finger seeks to balm
Sick souls; while, at my window, I
Have found a need of health and calm.
And now the skies grow luminous
As, jewel by jewel, flash the stars.
The paper boy has made his rounds.
Dark hides life's scars.
THOUGHTS ON EVENING
I liked the sound of the thunder,
I liked the sound of the rain-
That fell with sputtering patter
On my window-pane
This morning the walks are muddy,
This morning the sky is gray
This morning the folks are cranky
Could they be any other way?
Now tonight it is snowing and sleeting,
The walks are white with snow
But my room is cozy and comfy
And my heart is all aglow- -
ERA C. DC SHAZO
I went to church; I caught a beau.
Mom laughed and said, "I told you so,"
Just like she had read my thought,
And knew exactly what the day had brought.
I tried to look bored, in the same old way;
But my mind refused, I acted too gay.
I wish I had looked a bit more precise,
And not let my enthusiasm show in my eyes.
So going to church now suits me fine;
I can study my lesson and be on time,
It seems so essential and reasonable to go,
For the minister there is also my beau.
MY IRISH PRINCE
JANE DE WALT
One day as I sat alone
In the shade of an old oak tree,
And rested my head upon its trunk
As contentedly as could be,
I thought I saw you coming
Up the old stone walk;
I saw the smile upon your face
And I heard you talk.
And then I thought you took my hand
And we ran to the top of the hill,
Where all that we could see
Was beautiful and still,
Save for the sound of the rushing wind
As it whistled through the tree
And made a ripple on the grass
And the bird that sang for glee.
Over the meadow and down by the brook
We laughed and played together,
Where the brook and river meet,
Where the cattle are tethered,
And watched the ripples rise and fall;
We watched the gay birds fly
Soaring over tree and hill,
My Irish prince and I.
But, alas, 'twas only a dream,
A dream both dear and gay,
But still I love to think
Of it coming to life some day.
And always I have thought
That saying may be true,
That anything can happen
When you really want it to.
EDNA LOVETT DEWBERRY
Trees are green, the grass is too,
Birds are flying, skies are blue.
The wind is blowing, bidding good 'day,
Flowers yield to its musical sway.
The birds are singing
It's May! It's May!
ANNA MARY DICKSON
At dusk when all the chores are done
I find a quiet place
Where restful pictures groom the walls
And books take up a space.
The softest rug yields to my tread
And a turquoise clock ticks low,
While over all a candle dim
Gives out its gentle glow.
Here, too, a lily lifts her head
With fragrant, star-like grace,
From a lovely bowl just made to rest
On a bit of hand-made lace.
But more than outward circumstance
I prize the inward peace
That soothes my soul an incense rare
In hours of sweet release!
MARIA MESSURI DI VALENTIN
Tear, kill, hang, crush
The frail bodies of men's children.
Let life from out them rush,
Mix their substance into earth, then
Plant oppression in each row
Nurtered by the leader's iron fist.
The buried marrow will not grow
A new race for him but will twist
Within its forming shape
The avenging sons of them
Whose lives the aggressors rape.
The new conception marks the stem
With hatred and born in slavery
They shall use those very chains
In acts of foresworn bravery
To cleanse the rooted stains.
ELEANOR CONLEY DIXON
Converging domelike in the sky,
Trembling in the shivering air,
White streamers streaked to die;
Flashing from everywhere.
Thus the mystery of the north
Flashed across our starlit way,
And untold beauties burst forth,
Myriad lights took the place of day.
Until the green and purple curtain
Pausing a bit -uncertain
O'er our dark lake horizon
The lights of the north her eyes on
Silently stealing across the ceiling
Then suddenly, wasn't that a sigh?
It dropped away from out of the sky;
The Northern Lights mystery unrevealing!
A COLLEGE YEARBOOK
MALOISE STURDEVANT DIXON
This is our saga, this the record of time's ruthless flight
During that little interlude of yesteryear called college. For, today,
Those moments arc no longer ours to fashion only to recall.
Once, we were children; nothing lay behind (within our ken);
hence, we never glanced
That way, but always forward, visioning years to be. Closer they
We thought ourselves full grown, commencement day that first
Standing on the threshold of the future, the halo of our adolescent
Diffusing Vound our head the glowing colors
That blazoned on the banners of our school, and symbolized the
troths we pledged!
We now looked either way, forward, or back; and so, we dreamed
One, of the past we thought ourselves so old and one, of our
College loomed: Utopia. A lottery. A fad. A privilege. A duty. A
Amusing. Grim. A place where dreams came true. A place hopes
Its halls revered. Its very portals scorned. With dread, with joy untold
Each of us fashioned his concepts. Each would reap
A different crop, according to his seed. Then, life began.
Or did it?
Who can say? For once again we cross a starting line
an epoch passes.
Nostalgia, like a magnet, draws our thoughts to things gone by,
While toward the other pole a new attraction swings our dithered
To times ahead; times that we can not glimpse with clarity, yet
vision, as before,
Each through the spectacles of his own character. Will all life be
Always, new endings? Always, new beginnings? Always, new
poignancies of grief,
New thrills of hope, the deepened scars of fear? Always, fresh
serum of faith?
Is change the sole unchanging fact of life?
Today, the altitude of our new status takes our breath:
the two horizons,
Yesterday, tomorrow, fuse in one. Conflicting loyalties befog our
course. Knowing life
Has much to give to us, and we to it, we know not how to get,
nor how to yield.
We long to stay the course of time, procrastinate maturity, get
Upon our mark! But no the challenge signals, and our feet move on.
Now, distantly, we glimpse remote tomorrows: strange days when
we may truly bear
The mark of age; when we shall yearn to gaze only at bygone
Then, a new youth must scan the years ahead, and dream tomorrow's
In this our book, against that day, we store young tinder for the
Of memory. Each to the hearth bringing a different fagot, each from
Will draw a different torch to light the future's way.
Our fire is kindled. Reader, feel the warmth of its bright flame!
Light as the breeze that is dancing past,
White as the glow when the die is cast.
Beautiful ashes to me.
Thin as a coverlet o'er me spread,
Soft as the down of a feather bed.
Wonderful ashes to me.
Minerals rich now exposed to view
Glistening bright in the morning dew.
Genuine ashes to me.
Telling the tales of a friendship fire,
Fanned by the hopes that young hearts aspire.
Marvelous ashes to me.
Burning and glowing far into night,
Vying with stars for the last of light.
Radiant ashes to me.
Beautiful glow as it fades in death,
Lighting afresh as it gains new breath.
Leaving its ashes to me.
Proof of the joy that was once our own,
Changed now and changing fore'er to stone.
Bury these ashes with me.
FOR A. W.
PHYLLIS L. DOE
Hands that have touched my hands
Will touch mine never more.
Lipe that have touched my lips
We're parted forever more.
Eyes that have sought my eyes
Now mine will seek in vain.
The love that throbbed within you
Has stopped like the blood in your veins.
IN THE GARDEN OF HEAVEN
MYRTLE VEST DONNOHUE
The tiny seed of the flower garden
Sprang forth under her tender care;
The flowers were bigger and brighter
Than those you could find elsewhere.
The child of her church and school
Was helped by her guiding hand;
The men and women were better
Having known a character so grand.
And now in the Garden of Heaven.
So free from all toil and care,
She dwells with the flowers and angels,
God having need of her there.
While twilight came one eve in May
I tried to throw my cares away.
As I passed by a new'filled lake
My dormant soul did then awake,
For stretched before me in the gray
Were miles and miles of endless bay.
Protecting mist did o'er it rest
As a new come but welcome guest;
The hills in the horizon seemed
A bulwark where the waves had leaned.
But soon the darkness took the light;
My peaceful lake was out of sight.
J. R. DOOLEY, JR.
In the valley of colorful peaks that boldly reach so high
Into a gloriuos sunset sky,
Standing out like sentinels guarding the valley below,
Casting a silhouette that's aglow
With a faint blue of merging mountains
Like the rippling waters of spreading fountains,
The trickling waters softly ripple over pebbly beds
As though reluctant to leave the mountain's brushy webs.
And the great silent trees
Swaying gently with the evening breeze
The whispering notes of a sluggish brook
Murmuring of the ripples in the nook.
Far up a deep ravine a wolf pours forth his haunting plight.
Near the water's edge a deer retreats in silent flight;
The rabbit scurries into the brush,
Awaits the wolf's cry to hush.
Birds spread their wings in uncertain flight,
The squirrel climbs swiftly with fright.
As eventide gently falls
The whip-poor-will softly calls
The sweet scent of fragrant flowers
Brightened by the heavens' showers
As the soft breeze fills the air
With scented blossoms growing there.
The air is filled with a mystical light
As the moon soars into sight
And the cool mountain breeze
Sings a melody through the trees
Across the star studded sky
A peaceful cascade hovers nigh.
I have a friend who loves the wind
Blowing in her hair,
Who hoeing weeds in the garden,
Calls it prayer.
A friend who loves the twilight,
Running, bubbling brooks,
Reading verses, planting seeds,
And quiet shady nooks.
A friend who loves great silences,
Trees against the sky,
The smoke against our chimney-roof,
Rising straight and high.
I have a friend who kneels to pray
When day is done,
And God's great world is silent
At the setting of the sun.
To mould in bronse
I can't a spire,
To carve in marble,
Or create in fire;
To build in wood,
Or e'en in stone,
Or fashion crudely
In plastic tone.
But day by day
Fll slowly make
For Freedom's sake;
GLADYS E. DOUGLAS
On childish minds
Pure motives press,
Teach them to live
And do their best.
Romances that I might have had
With every handsome passing lad
Fill me with remorse.
Oh, what is this, my faulty Fate
That drops my handkerchief too late?
My bad good sense, of course!
AGAIN COME SPRING
The lilac hedge will blossom out again
And be the bluest thing I know,
And once again against an April sky
The apple trees will wave their boughs of snow.
Again come spring I'll press white violets
Against my face, oh, very hard,
And weep because they are too beautiful
And once again I shall believe in God.
D. D. DUNANN
Only a few yearn to find
The strings behind puppets.
You have watched the action long enough.
Leave the audience. Go backstage.
Dismiss the play and the little costumes.
Hunt for what you know is there.
Take your time. Use your own eyes.
There is nothing to lose except the seat
You left and will never want again.
C. BLANCHE DUNCAN
Memory weaves a glowing strand
Here and there across the land,
Ties each new Christmas with the last,
Paints for us a picture vast
Of many a jolly Christinas day.
(A few of dull and sober gray.)
Loved ones and friends, both new and old,
We cherish you far more than gold.
For you may we propose a toast -
"May all the joys which heaven can boast
Surround you daily on this earth,
And fill your Christmas day with mirth "
Is the unique form and physiognomy the reflection of the inner man'
I stop before the painting of striking figure of a great man.
Strikingly taller than the average,
Lean in flesh, bony with an enormous large forehead, reaching a thicl<
crop of coarse, black hair.
His thoughtful, wise, gray eyes appear like open gates for observa-
tion, and entrance of fairness, wisdom, and truth.
This intelligence with large chin and brow and expressive moutb
tells of the higher understanding of the greatest hero in American
In all time past
The note of leaders great
Was the soul of the peoples' faith;
The emancipation and liberation
Of slavery and slave,
A people and a nation to save
Was the liberty and master sound,
Voice of Lincoln.
From the masses of the people he arose;
He knew the faith within,
The love that weaves and spins:
Hope and progress for those
They oppress, and deprive
Of all things human and worthy in life.
This disgrace to erase was the
Task of Lincoln.
The mind, the soul of the people
With patience to uphold and admire,
Human and noble aim to inspire.
For realisation of freedom,
The struggle for right,
Was that noble fight
That led the path to conquest
And fame for Lincoln.
The aim accomplished,
Free is the slave;
This Nation is safe
From crumbling under the weight
Of an unfair state.
Fate, through an assassin, has robbed
The Nation and the world of Lincoln.
So this master of mind and soul
Was the martyr for Freedom to fall.
A soul is a heavenly vault,
Wherein a goal to retain;
When Time solves those truths,
They in books compressed remain.
And as light reflects in water,
So a soul in souls is seen;
Man there finds his solace,
When compared the past has been.
ALTA H. DUNLAP
I thank God for* the land of morning stars,
Flag of red, white and blue
Red of restitution, and constitution;
White in purity of purpose and foundation;
Blue of the firmament of individual liberty -
Banner of safety over our ship of state,
Undefeated in life's battle.
Right is might;
God is the only Power,
He rules Supreme!
GOLDIE BEARD DUNLAP
A silvered moon against a cloud of gold,
A gentle breeze a robin's last call,
The crooning frogs the night bugs' chant
E'en to the cricket, cheeriest of all.
Beyond the stretch of pastures green
Myriads of trees reach up to touch the sky;
All this: to see, to hear, to feel,
When day is done, a time for solitude
Before we seek repose in the arms of night!
A TEACHER'S PRAYER
ISABELLE M. DUNN
God, dear God, you willed me clay;
Yet, 'tis I must show the way
To a group of brave young souls,
Eager eyes fixed on their goals.
Make me worthy, Lord of mine,
Give me just a spark divine;
That, with the celestial fire,
Those clear minds I may inspire,
Give me patience, also tact;
Let me not in anger act.
They search my soul with candid eyes:
I must not, Lord, the truth disguise.
Never distant must I stand,
Always near, with outstretched hand.
I must know no race nor creed,
But satisfy each pupil's need.
Let me not by rule just teach,
I must "practice what I preach."
I have, Lord, a garden rare;
Grant me, please, a harvest fair.
JEANETTE DISSMEYER DUNK
God built His own cathedrals
Amongst the stately pines,
Where flower faces all turn up
To view a Heav'n Divine.
Tis here that we, a favored few,
Are privileged to be,
To adore His own creations
And escape reality.
MY TWO DREAMS
A partner in life to help a load,
One button that's gone after thrice having sewed,
Two eyes showing mischief when cookies are missed,
And when "good'night" comes, he longs to be kissed.
A head that's been wet and the hair that's slicked down,
After swimming a spell in a hole that's unfound,
Two hands that are clean, for a dinner, when called,
Or when reading a book, on a chair he is sprawled.
A soul that is free from all evil and sin,
Two gifts from a heart, no matter 'tis tin,
A day that's well spent, with all kinds of good fun
Is a dream that I prayed for, and God sent a son.
A door softly opened, avoiding a creak,
One wee little kiss on a wee pink cheek,
Two eyes tightly closed, with their curtains pulled down,
Is a treasure no pirate has hidden, or found.
A little pug nose, set in a small face,
One tiny heart beat, giving life to each pace,
Two arms slightly crossed over one's tiny breast
Is a picture no artist could paint at his best.
A head full of curls that tangle when combed,
One tap on a hand, to teach fingers, that roamed,
Two places to kiss after taking a whirl
Is a dream that 1 prayed for, and God sent a girl.
HAVE YOU WALKED WITH THE KING?
MURIEL E. DYHRMAN
Have you walked with the King as your partner?
Have you taken Him with you each day?
Can you say that your life is much fairer
Since He is the Guide and the Way?
Have you walked with the King in the garden?
Have you looked on His loveliness there?
Has your soul overflowed with His beauty
As you whispered His name in prayer?
Have you walked with the King in the valley
When your eyes have been blinded with tears?
Have you felt His kind hand laid upon you
In sorrowing sympathy dear?
Can you say youVe been bought by the Saviour?
Arc you saved and redeemed by His blood?
Then love Him, Oh love Him forever,
Praise God for His wonderful Word!
TREES OF THE RIVERSHORE
Narrow's the shore and steep, the stream beside
Bends here, bends there, the yellow waters slide,
Meander from their ancient, quaggy mere,
Pass the high precipice and the forest marge,
Far woods, fields near;
Wash deep this shore, where arc the trees thick set,
Great sycamore, grows high, low, dry or wet;
And willow, maple, birch, the stream oft near;
Some aged in beauty, "midst the sprouts stand yet;
And "midst them, the wilding violets bloom,
And thick beflower the southward steep beside,
Save, "neath autumn chill, have the sweet buds died.
Trees, aged in beauty, their high tops o'er tower,
There tender garlands green, the lofty branch embower,
'Gaint the blue summer sky brightly they (gleam;
Each bole out-thrusts their tree-large, bending bough,
Far o'er the river-wave, in the bright flow,
The birch-leaves dangle "neath the dancing beam.
Vine'girdled, ample trunks,
Lichen and moss adorn, "midst them dark stains
Where from old, fissured ark, oak vinelets grow
Thick leaves 'neath frost and slow down'drip of rain;
Close creeps the lycopod to the farther bough,
Timeless and strange, encircles branch and stem;
The massy boles uprear, iron-rooted they,
Stout as Pentelian stone, for e'er to prop
The meadow o'er, of kine and fruitful crop;
Plastered these pillared forms in the ivory clay
Washed by winter flood, here long it lapped them 'bout,
By Time and Nature's change to beauty fraught.
MARY MCCOY EBERHART
Lead on, O blessed Master,
We put our hands in Thine,
For all along life's highway
We need Thy power divine.
Hold fast! O blessed Sabiour,
Forbid that we let go,
If tasks and trials beset us,
If pain and suffering flow;
Enlighten us, Redeemer,
To ever do^the right,
And may our humble efforts
Be pleasing in Thy sight.
And when the year is ended,
With many victories won,
May we then have the inner joy
To hear Thy praise "Well done.
TO A ROSE
Each rose it is so beautiful,
That God at morn must cry
To lure such velvet from the earth
For common eye to spy;
His tears cling tight with arms unseen
To every lip of red
Till some ethereal prince descends
To carry them overhead.
The lips he gathered one by one
While maidens slept beneath,
On tiptoe through the amber sod
He slipped them on a wreath;
Within the bud he folded love,
A heart did he bequeath,
So when the sun doth bid to rise
Love flees to souls that breathe.
A SNOWY EVENING
Snow flurries flying thick and fast
Falling and drifting from the sky
Snownig as if it intended to last
Until roads and hills in drifts do lie.
Blocking all traffic for several days
Forcing the schools to be closed for a time,
Till snowplows and shovels can clear the way,
For the young, the old, and those in their prime.
Then on the morrow when all is quiet,
Old and young, we see them all
Kids on their sleds, and the girls who will diet,
Abiding and sledding, forgetting the falls.
When birds once more will sing away,
And cows are glad to be out again,
And the snow is all gone, in a way
I find myself longing for snow again.
The path of sunlight spreads across the floor
Swaying like a spector through the shadows
Now speckled nonchalantly to the door
With a throng of sunbeam desperadoes
Stealing through the window to invade my room.
The leaves" reflections in the sun assume
Elusive, dancing patterns on the rug.
A breeze disturbs the curtain's hanging poise
Before the open window and a bug
Walks up the pane until I make a noise
That sends it flying toward the sun's decline
Deep in the yellowpink horizon's line.
The twilight settles on the afternoon
Serenaded by an early cricket
Harmonizing in the neighbor's thicket
With the evening's lazy August swoon.
Over cast, a passing freight train flashes
Screeching through the wind's resistless sighing
In a swooping "wave of iron crashes
Mounting to a swift crescendo, dying
In the swiftly covered distance. Quiet
Suddenly returns as now the distant air
Digests the smoke clouds added to its diet.
A dog starts whining down the street, somewhere,
To ease the impact of the freight train's screech.
A radio goes on and from its reach
Of kilocycles comes a heavy voice
That beats upon the atmosphere nearby.
The laughter of a child rings clear and choice
Upon the peaceful street, and listening I
Am seated on the sofa gleaning,
Probing, searching for a meaning.
MEMORIES OF THE SEA
A stretch of beach
A span of sky
A horizon out of reach
A star on high.
A ship in full sail
With wings wide spread,
Riding out the gale
That howls overhead.
Water whipped into a foam
By the ever restless sea.
Birds that are far from home
Resting safely in the lee.
These are my memories
Of the place I long to be.
These are my thoughts of
The ever changing, restless sea.
BETTY MARIE ELLIS
Memories are houses
Along the way of life,
Little inns of cheerfulness,
Or hovels built from strife.
Memories are vessels
Upon the foam of dreams,
Galleons of adventure,
Or freighters, so it seems
Memories are churches
Within a town of sin;
The doors are ever open;
Come, let us enter in.
A NURSE'S TASK
To work is not just to do to have it done.
But to labor hard until the battle is won.
Each deed must be to lessen another's burden.
Remember, each task done is only a prayer answered.
From your Nightingale pledge be never swerved.
When the sun behind the clouds has gone,
Let on your lips a new resolution be born.
Kneel, and to God say, "Today my task has begun."
Tomorrow each step shall be a ladder's rung.
POWER OF THOUGHT
Loving thoughts from quiet moments
Grow like trees to Spirit skies.
Heaven's light amid their branches
Bids the weary soul to rise.
Thus from many a humble hamlet
Comes a force that never dies,
Reaches forth for broken heartstrings,
Soothes some weary wanderer's cries.
Everyone may have this power,
All can send forth thoughts that cheer,
Cause the plant of hope to flower
In some life that's sad and drear.
Kindly thoughts will cheer and bless
Tender hearts that hard words sere.
Thoughts that cost the sender naught
Often are like gems most rare.
Evil thoughts may cause disaster,
Blight some earnest, hopeful soul.
Will you ever be the richer if you
Cause a soul's downfall?
Evil thoughts will travel far
With power that would appall.
Likewise helpful thoughts will grow
To blessings rich for one and all.
If I were a painter,
Fd take my brush in hand,
And paint the lovely sunsets
All up and down this land.
God has used his colors
And blended them in the sky,
As a sign of courage
To the weary passers-by.
When their day's work is over,
And they've done their very best
The sunset is a promise
That soon will come rest.
When I see the dark clouds
On which the sun is shining,
It's then I know every dark cloud
Has a silver lining.
Flow it makes my heart rejoice
When the beauty I behold,
And know the paint brush of God
Has touched it with His gold.
God, I've made an awful mess of things!
Each hour elusive opportunities brings:
Opportunities too wonderful to clasp
Within a mere mortal's grasp.
Yet, Dear God, at birth of day,
(With no doubt in my mind
As to what I --would find
At eve's end of the way)
I mixed Your colors gay--
And made a dingy gray!
I missed and muffed each opportunity
And got by with impunity!
Impunity? Yes, except from me/
I know the hopes of each hour,
The loveliness of each flower,
The cherished plans of Thee!
I knew but did not stop to think
That You use indelible ink;
That the prints our actions traced
Can never, never be erased.
But for one thing I pray:
With the help of Your guiding hand,
And a vision of the way You've planned,
Let me make a worthwhile day:
Because, God, I ruined Your yesterday.
ANNA MAE ERDMANN
Whose fault is it? That we do not have
Great spreading wings of purest white,
That surge with us on an upward flight,
Above all this taint of mortal strife,
Into the fulness of a perfect life?
Whose fault is it? That our thoughts should lead
To darkness, woe and black despair,
To dull unending care and need,
That blends our backs and dims our eyes,
And fills our life with tears and sighs?
Whose fault is it? That we do not say,
Dear parents, this is your job, that God has set apart
To teach reverence for freedom, life, liberty and pride,
To battle for human rights, yet always strive,
That freedom always shall survive.
REVERIE AT EVENTIDE
CHRISTEL M. ERDMANN
The time of day that I love best,
Of gracious calm and solitude.
That never fails to give me rest
Is eventide, when none intrude,
Before the rising hills I stand
Revelling in God's wondrous work:
Beauty, spread o'er all the land,
A task that Nature can not shirk.
Homeward-bound in reverie,
The firmament with stars aglow;
Complacency steals softly o'er me,
Setting the world aright below.
CALL OF PEACE
BESS GRATZ ERICKSON
There's a call of peace in the heart of man,
Through the spirit hear it sing;
Now the busy days, now the days of rest,
And we hear sweet music ring.
To the tune of joy in the universe,
When the course of hope is true,
With the heart of man warm in radiant light
Under skies of heavenly blue.
There's a call of peace in the heart of youth
As he whistles and works and plays,
Through the busy hour he finds a joy
As he lives through happy days;
In the spring of life as the body grows,
And the mind is frank and clear,
Then the lessons of right are chosen to keep.
From within there is no fear.
There's a call of peace in the heart of love
As it wanders through human life,
With its wistful hopes and joyous moods,
Through the days with endless strife;
From the heart of love comes that joy and song,
And the harmony it brings
Tells of highest hopes in the human heart
As throughout the earth it sings.
There's a call of peace in the heart of earth,
With a firm hand over all;
In the human heart and mind is heard
The clear, firm, gentle call.
The message heard is the voice of peace,
From all earth and rock and pool,
Listen human heart, and youth and love
To the words of the Golden Rule.
BEATRICE GRIFFIN ESBORG
There are times when life is a climb
And the top of the hill far away,
And sometimes it's dark, no morning in sight,
And you long for the sight of the day.
And yet if you climb each upward step
You know that you must reach the height,
And over the hill comes the morning's bright beam
And your way will be flooded with light.
Oh, the sky is so big and the valley so far
You'll forget the hard climb to your goal
And you'll walk in the radiant light of the day
With peace and content in your soul.
TO A YOUNG MOTHER
SISTER MARY ESTELLE, O.P.
You hold within your arms, my dear,
Heaven's loveliest gift to earth
Flesh of your fashioning,
A fragile, yet divinest thing,
For 'twas the Breath of God which gave it birth;
And all the beauty of summer skies
Are naught beside the hidden glory,
Sweet hints of immortality
Which shine from out a baby's azure eyes!
ENGLAND IN SEPTEMBER
PATRICIA ELY FALLON
I know that England must be white like this
Upon a mid'September moonlit night,
When all the fields are blanketed in mist
And earth lies still in reverent quietness
Spell-bound; hushed, before God's holy sight.
I've never been in England, yet I know,
That this same velvet air breathes on the hill,
And touches lightly where the sumacs grow.
In this, my land, I've loved the autumn so,
Yet on another smitten shore I feel I'd love it still.
I watched sunlight through stained glass
Today in church.
It fell in little rainbows on the brow of a sleeping child.
It pooled its rosiness on a lover's absent face
And kissed an old man's faded head
Again to gold.
I watched until his mother woke the child,
The lover rose, startled, and the old man fumbled
for his cane.
I had not heard the sermon,
And I was ashamed . . .
Yet, walking away, I remembered the touch of sunlight
Through stained glass,
And I went back and stood alone
In the crimson silence there,
And watched the rainbow -filtered sun
Lie on the empty pews.
And somehow, solitary there,
I was strangely near
Summertime is stillness,
Laziness of warmth,
Songs that echo throbbing;
Gold from sky to earth,
And on the earth full bloom that reaches up to sky.
Autumn is a quick-gold,
Laughing of the wind,
Leaves in falling flightfuls;
Before the bitterness of cold shall touch the earth.
Wintertime is ice^blue,
Clearness of the cold,
Snow to frost black branches;
Silence with the snow
But still a roar of firesides and still the ring of bells.
I shall remember my days here,
The dull classes, the people I met,
Memories that will always remain dear;
Scenes that will be with me yet.
And when I live only in the past
Such scenes will come back to me
The chapters in my life that have been cast,
But only the pleasant things shall I see.
The sad, unpleasant words shall go unread
As I turn each old, worn, and tattered page
Of my life here, but yet are dead,
Gone, and sunk in the depth of age.
A blending haz;e that grays the color
Through forests where a murmuring mystery
Pervades their mystic serenity;
Over reaches of hill and dale
Softening scars of many a gale;
To mountain heights against the sky
Where blues and purples often lie
Cloaking distant green with blue;
Awaits all the nature lovers
With analogies in lovely colors.
RAY MCGONNELL FAUGHT
A faded note,
A rose or two,
That's all that I have left of you.
Of love long past,
And happiness that could not last.
Our hopes so high,
How sure we were they would not die.
Those months apart,
Your photograph deep in my heart.
It's over now,
And I am glad
Because I would not have you sad.
Though once I thought
My heart would break,
Our love was just one big mistake.
How clearly now
I see 'twas wrong.
I never knew till you were gone.
You've found another
Love, I hear,
And now I know I did not care.
I love anew
Also, you see,
I'm glad that you've forgotten me.
But, oh, my dear,
I'd lose all gain
To hold you in my arms again.
OLIVE J. FAULKNER
A sense of pain and anguish,
A writhing in the dust,
A struggle to keep living
As the humble know they must;
Then a touch of some secretion,
And the pain is less to bear
Some call it Natural Instinct,
And others call it Care.
A yearning for affection,
A need to work for pay,
Eagerness for the future
Hard earned along the way;
Then the toil that's done for merit,
Yet the needy have their share
Some call it Faithful Duty,
But others call it Care.
A spark of love then action,
A need, and the will to do,
A kindness born of suffering,
And a vague desire come true;
Then the hope of all the ages
Mingled in a fervent prayer
Some say 'tis Love and Knowledge.
And others say, 'tis Care.
HARRY JAMES FAZZINA
I am the pollen grains of life,
Blown about by the jealous winds of fate;
And where I linger, the flower of faith blooms.
For I am the esthetic, the artistic, the sublime.
Where I am not, there is strife,
And the ominous cloud of hate
Bathes all mankind in its murky cloak of gloom;
And death drinks deeply of the slaughtered mind.
MARY G. FERGUSON
They sleep beneath the shadows of the clouds,
Careless, alike, of sunshine or of storm,
Each in their windowless palace of rest.
They sleep while the cold gray funeral shroud
Clothes all that remains of each earthly form.
Hands, that once served so well, folded across each breast.
Reposing beside shaggy headed peaks, where mountains touch the
They feel not the mystic kiss of rain, nor beaded drop of dew.
Nor do they see the blushing sunset glow, the twilight, or the dawn.
Unmindful of the rumble as thunder speaks to the clouds that
They sleep, eyes closed, in peaceful slumber 'neath heaven's blue.
Lips are sealed to speak no more, but are they gone?
Yes, to join the happy throng; they become immortal.
They dwell in the sun that shines on yonder hill.
And keep faith with those who trusted in Thee.
Their spirits rejoice, as they enter Celestial portals.
'They are risen, the Saviour's promise has been fulfilled.
They sleep, but the voice cries out, arise, awake, for thou art free
To dwell in the house of the Lord
Till the tide shall bring the body to the eternal shore.
To be united with the soul and bid them enter the Shepherd's Keep.
They will sing with the Heavenly Host in sweet accord.
Hallelujah! We live again in God forevermore.
They sleep, ah, how peacefully our nurses sleep.
A RENDEZVOUS WITH LIFE
I have a rendezvous with life
In that envisaged sphere
Where we are done with war and strife
And bitterness and fear.
On some high hill among the stars
I shall exultant climb,
To know the deeds of avatars,
Ill keep that dazzling rendezvous
When death comes beckoning -
And one I know will keep it too,
There on the verge of spring.
THE BIRDS WILL SING
The birds will sing alluring lays,
When spring returns again and plays
Her harps in tops of emerald trees
And woos the flowers with whispered breeze
Through lovely, long, light, lazy days.
When thoughts are chill like wind that stays
And makes us long for balmy Mays,
Do not forget, after the^freeze
The birds will sing.
Though breasts may burn with pain that flays
All thought of joys and happier ways,
Yet Faith has schooled us, each believes
That after ache of heart that grieves,
Sweet peace will come, and roundelays
The birds will sing.
MARY W. FISHER
Autumn's crimsoning on the highway,
Autumn's skies, cerulean blue,
Make me glad that I am living,
And have known and loved
Wavering hearts may wander widely;
Life has varied roads for all;
But from youth to ripened manhood
I have loved you;
That is all.
Now I know my country calls me:
I must answer, I must go;
If I fall in foreign countries,
I have loved you,
This I know.
BALM FROM MY GARDEN
ANNA L. FITTEN
My garden does such things for me!
Intrigues me into reverie
When troubled, hurried, or obsessed
Invites me to slow down and rest.
I note that butterfly and bee,
Wild flying past me, feel the call
Of garden sweetness poise and sip.
I read the purpose of it all.
I breathe the pungency of herbs' balm;
The wafting breezes bring me calm;
Honeysuckle's languid sweetness
Brings relaxation near completeness;
The sky overhead so heavenly blue!
In the wondrous magical melting hue
My mental clouds of somber gray
Have lightened till they sailed away.
As sunlight pierces vaulted skies
Over my garden, I realise
Its guiding power: my strength from above
Unfailing, e'erhealing, Our Father's love.
Nevermore hopeless or in despair
But trusting in His tender care.
My toil is but a simple fee!
My garden does such things for me!
Fling to the wind your every care
And fill your soul with pleasure rare
It's autumn and the woodlands ring
With music only thrushes sing.
The trees are decked in lovely tints
Through which the golden sunshine glints.
Spreading fields of brown and green
Are softened by a mellow sheen.
Rivers and lakes sparkling and clear
Reflect the colors far and near.
Drink of this beauty while you may
For it may vanish in a day.
When you've glimpsed this bit of heaven,
Hold it for tomorrow's leaven
'Twill warm the heart and make it light
And you will feel that life's still bright.
MARGARET REED FLOREY
Dirty little shoes
Tracking up my floor,
Chubby dimpled hands
That forget and slam the door;
A ball, a doll, a little chair,
Toys scattered everywhere;
Measles, mumps a sleepless night,
Ceaseless worry, sudden fright;
A baby face, a curly head,
An ivory chest, a cradle bed;
A little child upon my breast
With all these things I have been blest;
No other joys with these compare
For they make a home a place so rare.
DOROTHY SWEET FORMAN
Does one laugh still when laughter melts away?
Does one live on when sun and stars are gone?
Will happiness a memory become,
And love a relic of the past alway?
I wonder if God's hand holds time today
Or if the hours only seem too long?
When will I know if I am right or wrong,
A dreamer, or a potter of the clay?
Can this be but beloved memory,
A melting snowflake on deep drifts of mind?
Let love continue through eternity,
If happiness and worship that we find
Be love; and if but passing fancy holds us now,
Let joy claim us today this us allow.
WORLD WAR II
Unseeing mobs go hurrying by,
Step by step they march side by side;
None heed the danger signal or the cry
NO light ahead! There is a pitfall wide!
To reason or to think brings pain,
So on they must "Bah, bah! 1 ' as dumb sheep will,
Never to travel back again
"Victory", you say? All is still!
A quest for Peace none sees it in the home,
So put on boots and shoot you'll do it anyway.
It does not do, to thin\ or stand alone,
Do what others do bound hand and foot, you are today!
NO quest for Peace! NO goal! Not done!
Until We have no Pope! No King! No Gold! NO Throne!
Burning passions within me
Surge about inside
And pound upon my heart
Which slowly turns to rock
Intense feelings which pierce
My igneous heart
Like the diamond's cutting edge.
Cold chatter about me,
Carefree as a sunny day.
Yet within me
The strongest of electric storms
Hails icy pangs into my heart.
With such contrast
Between fair chatter
And stormy emotions,
There should be a rainbow,
A beautiful escape for me.
Think to be able to
Climb the thin strands
Of golden threads
Which reflect the colors of the sun
And tread lightly up
And over the cold chatter
Of tongues that just clatter
For the mere hearing's sake
Monotonous, cold, cruel chatter.
The sunset glows between the trees,
The leaves are rustled by the breese.
The red and green and gold and blue
Sing sweet songs to me of you.
WE WHO LOVED THE SEA
Feel no sadness at the sight of waves
That rock us gently in our graves.
Feel no grief as the billows sweep
Above us in eternal sleep.
By sod and stone we are not bound;
We lie beneath no marbled ground.
No crusted clay binds us there;
No solemn shroud do we wear.
There lie above no dying flowers
That mark the end of mortal hours.
No epitaph stands at our head,
A cold reminder of the dead.
No mournful dirge as on the day,
When dust to dust is laid away.
For us the sea sings a lullaby
As everlasting as the sky.
In death we lie below the waves,
As do those noble Indian braves,
Who have with them their roans to ride;
So we have ships on every side.
It is not for us who loved the spray
To be sealed in steel and put away
From all the things that brought us cheer
Things seaman and sailors want to be near.
We were followers of the foam,
Who made the sea our adopted home.
And now that our watch on deck is ended,
We've gone below by death attended.
I struggled mob'ridden up Calvary
With bitter, burning heart,
The weight of the cross laid upon me
Was more than due my part.
I reached the brow of Calvary,
My spirit was crucified;
And on the cross a creature of life
Outnumbered but unconquered died.
I awoke. Calvary was a dream
Of a struggling soul mob-ridden,
And a quickened heart responded
To a truer heavenly vision.
'Twas Herman's side I mounted,
Reached a most glorious goal,
And brought to the life that waited
A radiant transfigured soul.
Faith has fought many a fight
And never one was lost,
Faith is light on the darkest night
And of our destinies faith is boss.
As faith grows love is manifested,
By faith our love for God is tested.
If our hopes are big and faith is small,
We might as well not hope at all.
For you are beaten from the start
If you venture forth with a doubtful heart.
But if you're armed with faith in God
And in your fellowman,
You are armed with a weapon
No earthly force can withstand.
LISTEN TO ME
LYTT I. GARDNER
Listen to me, you Americans!
Your misguided brother
Across the sea
Is led by one who beats his breast
And swears to crush you.
Listen to me, you Americans!
You have the strength of the hybrid
And none of his sterility.
You are the superior race
Because you are all races.
Listen to me, you Americans!
You are the Tower of Babel
When Babel has ceased.
You are the giant of many tongues
And many sinews.
A PUNCHER CHOOSES
BEULA M. GARLAND
I am a young cowpuncher
And my home is in the west;
Fve heard of glorious cities
But this prairie suits me best.
I like to sit by the campfire
And strum my old guitar,
Turn my eyes to heaven
And fix "em on a star.
I'm a-humming and a'singin"
"Home on the Range 17 ,
A'hopin" and a'wishin"
Things will never change.
At night between my blankets
I lie and blink my eyes,
Wonderin' if Fll ever go
To that home beyond the skies
My bed is in the desert sand,
My pillow is my pack;
My gun lies close beside me
In case of surprise attack.
So I dream and wonder
Life is but a book.
Never mind your language
Nor how you're gonna look.
So take your gals and cities,
Night clubs and a car,
But give me a western campfire
And my old guitar.
(To Airaee and Carroll)
Would the magic in its name become reality
When I should see at night its myriad gleams?
Would sight confirm the vision I had conjured up
Since childhood days, the city of my dreams?
But there it lay in early morning mistiness
More wondrous than the beauty I had sought!
An ache was in my throat as I beheld through tears
This miracle that God and man had wrought!
The Hudson with its bridge and lofty Palisades;
Liberty Enlightening the World;
Skyscrapers; graceful spires; great ships upon the sea;
Humanity before my eyes unfurled!
Though I should see no more this city of my dreams,
,1 hold a part of "little old New York!"
For etched upon my heart and soul, Fifth Avenue,
Times Square, and Thirty -fourth have left their mark!
RUTH IVES GARRETT
Since you have gone, they wonder why I find
My joy in time beyond the dusk, in this
Severe, dim hush, and not in any times
Which they believe, should help me to forget.
With grieved hearts, they still sigh that I prefer
This solitude, these long nocturnal hours:
Oh, they would li\e to keep my mind awake
With light, with gay discourse, with late tumult,
And leave me no small moment for myself.
Dear, thoughtful, worried friends! Not one of them
Can realize I love the silent, private dark,
Because you left me jewelled memories
Whose brilliant facets sparkle, live, against
The muted, ebon velvet folds of night.
ALICE M. GATES
Come out to old Wyoming,
Where air is fresh and clean.
Where rolling plain and towering peak
And great stone faces seem to speak.
Where ranches nestle here and there,
And coyotes linger in their lair.
Where dinosaurs of long ago
Lie buried in the ground.
Where fossils large and arrowheads,
Are scattered all around.
Where trees are lying petrified,
And agate fields are broad and wide.
Where cowboys tall and straight and slim,
Chase down the cows with shout and din.
Where old stage coaches of the west,
Traveled the route of the pony express.
Come out to old Wyoming,
Where wonders still abound.
SONG OF THE BROOK
HELEN M. GATES
The brook goes tumbling along, along,
Down through the wooded ravine.
It lilts a tuneful, gay sweet song,
Of rocks and of trees that lean
Over its noisy, rollicking self
Hovering over the stream,
To hear what it sings, the wayward elf,
As catching the sun's bright beam,
It shimmers, dances, and does not cease
Chanting its glad refrain
Of birds and blossoms and Spring's release,
Over and over again.
IRENE E. GATES
Sonny Scarlet Fever Bug had reached the adult span,
So he laid his chin upon his knees
And said, "Now I'm a man.
My future I must ponder,
May love be my only fate.
So he picked his chin up off his knees
And went searching for a mate.
In a dusky, dark, damp corner
Of a contaminated room
Sat Suzy Scarlet Fever Bug.
Her heart was full of gloom.
For Susy Scarlet Fever Bug
Had reached the adult span.
Her only lonely, girlish thought
Was, "Gee, I want a man."
So fate was kind and their paths crossed,
Sonny their troth did plight.
So hand in hand the two bugs went,
In love, out in the night.
Their steps were light with love's young dream,
Their happy feet did roam,
Until their wanderings found them
Upstairs in the Nurses' Home.
Sonny looked into Susy's eyes
Her love passed every test.
So all they needed to find just now
Was a home for a love nest.
The closest door to the top of the stairs
They sneaked under cautiously
And gazed about in utmost awe
Their hearts were full of glee.
For here in a lovely square-cornered bed
Lay their future home and more
A warm and dampened trachea
And a pink throat to make so sore.
They scooted hand in hand up Jean's smooth chin
And down her throat so free,
Started housekeeping then and there
And raised a family.
They sent out warning signals
That they had squatter's rights,
And whatever person interfered,
These bugs would start some fights.
The oldest Scarlet Fever child
Was appointed as a guide
He'd holler every p.r.n.
"Scram! Here's Sulfanilamide."
And Sonny Scarlet Fever Bug
\Vith chin upon his knee
\Vould pound his hairy chest and rave,
'"They can't do this to me.
I bought this property called Jean,
And want just home and peace.
For twcnty'one days here we'll abide
Then I'll tear up the lease."
YOU ARE MY MUSE
JOHN STUART GATES
If Sidney's Muse came from its realm
Saying, "Tool look in thy heart and write,"
If Cupid Spenser's own Muse was,
Why not to me of lesser might?
You are my Muse, my consolation;
You are fair in my estimation.
If Jonson's Celia moved his pen
To sweet love's tender supremacy,
If Silvia Shakespeare's song did cause,
Then, Amourette, you can move me.
You are my Muse, my purest desire;
You are the one my pen to inspire.
Before Poe's Annabel Lee tuned him
To high poetic majesty,
Helen of Troy stirred countless pens
So you who are my Muse, move me.
My own pen is artless without throne;
You are my Muse: my words are yours alone.
Your starlit eyes are stainless, clear;
Your noblest gift a spotless heart.
Your nectar did a vow incur;
Yourself of me became a part.
You are my Muse, my last fame to be;
You have proved immortality.
SUSAN RUTH GEORGE
"Dear Lord," I prayed, "direct my feet."
The day was fair and calm.
The path I trod seemed right and sweet.
Then suddenly an unseen hand
Reached out and drew me back.
I could not understand.
Blindly I stumbled, for my day
Had suddenly grown black.
"Dear Lord," I prayed, "direct my way,
I can not see, I do not know,
The darkness blinds my eyes,
I fear, I dare not go."
Then in the dark I placed my hand
Within His strong sure one,
And though I could not understand,
I prayed, "Dear Lord, direct my way."
The clouds rolled back and there,
A yawning chasm lay.
AMERICAN SOLDIERS AT WAR
(December 7 and 9, 1942)
CARL GUSTAV GEORGI
A year ago three nations
From far across the sea
Sent word from short wave stations
That we in war must be.
And now the ships are flying
And steaming south, east, west,
Colossal bombers vying
In war's gigantic zest.
And soldiers by the millions
Are on the way to shoot;
Arms, worth -two hundred billions
And more, want work "en route."
No war has yet affected
Our country's total toil
As this war, now enacted
On foreign globewide soil.
Thus backed, with heads victorious
And hearts prepared, we fight
To win things that will free us
And others from this plight.
But when the war is ended,
We rest and breathe relief
And hope that soon may be mended
The agony of grief.
And trust that peace be lasting
Like Lincoln's, made of yore;
That nations be not blasting
Each other any more!
THE SEASON'S ENDED
Sere leaves lying,
Here and there.
Birds are winging
Shy suns glowing;
Days are growing
Short and cold.
What's the reason?
It's the season
The year's old.
Bronze days reigning;
Life is done.
The world's at peace
For life has ceased.
I often pause and wonder why
So many people fear to die.
When life is harsh and full of tears,
Why should we dread the coming years?
If life is full of toil and pain,
In life we lose, in death we gain;
If all our efforts bring no fruit,
Then why not treasure death as loot?
If you have kept your honor bright,
Await with joy the coming night.
If you have labored long and hard,
God will be generous with reward.
GEORGE F. GETTY
Within this dreamland fantasy of love
And passion, hate and chill remorse, we roam
Like goal-forbidden, lonesome children of
A vagrant dream; sad beings without home
And yet belonging to eternity:
Sad minstrels of a short, chaotic tune,
Sad jesters of the drab fraternity,
Sad champions of the bright but waning moon.
Lost, mist-enshrouded phantoms bound between
The topless chasm walls that hem our years
And hide the stars; along a common mean
We clash immortal destinies with mortal fears.
Mere dreamers in a void of dreams, and yet
Mere dreamers that may wake and then forget.
TIS Easter morn, beneath the trees I stand,
And watch the glowing pageant in the skies,
For some day through the clouds of beauty grand,
A wondrous sight will greet my straining eyes;
The Lord is risen, exactly as He said,
The prophecies concerning Him are filled.
He lives! He lives! The Saviour is not dead;
He is risen my trembling heart is thrilled.
And since He lives and forevermore shall reign,
The prophecies concerning Him are true,
He will keep His covenant with men;
I repeat His promises anew,
And always watching is my hungry heart,
Unsatisfied with things of earth or main,
Until sweet music waves the clouds apart,
And He keeps His promise and returns again
So mute beneath the silent trees I stand,
And look into the glowing eastern skies,
For some day through the rose-pink beauty grand,
A wondrous sight will greet my straining eyes.
A STORY AT TWILIGHT
ELA MAYE GILL
It is night and the firelight is shedding its beam,
Upturned childish faces and shining eyes gleam,
Cheeks tinged with pleasure while mother sits by,
With words of old stories in soft lullaby.
Every home has this hour when busy day is o'er,
As twilight steals in through the half open door.
Entertainment as well as a moral to teach,
So vital its object the young heart to reach.
'Twas begun when old bards went from door to door,
Full stock of old ballads and with legends galore
To recite for the asking a most popular trade.
The minds of the youths were thus musically made.
Deep influence on lives their shining rays cast,
In visions of eye these characters last,
The scenes conjure up in real life rare,
All succeeding events imagination to share.
In the heralds of Heaven I think I can hear,
Near the throne soft voices as twilight draws near.
Sainted mothers will always their duties pursue,
Their children gather 'round and enjoy it, too.
God's approving smile will rest on the scene,
His ear catch the moral, His loving eyes beam,
Perhaps back in Nazareth at His old home once more,
His memory goes back to that half open door;
He can see His old home in those days of old.
Then He thinks of the stories His mother once told.
Childhood days are the sweetest; though years have flown
He has never forgotten His parents and home.
Inscribed on heart walls it will always remain
Memories travel back to that old home again.
Though years have flown by with women and men,
Tonight up in Heaven they are children again.
BURL H. GILLUM
I may not realize my brightest dream,
I may never reach the top of highest peak,
And in my hands may never really gleam
Rare jewels that I seek.
But may I happy contentment find
And ever press towards that goal
That brings to me peace of mind
And satisfies my soul.
Fve searched through all my fruitless years
For joy to abide and compensate
The loneliness and bitter tears
That crush me with their weight;
But now to faith I gladly cling
And know that I will surely find
By working daily for my King
A wondrous peace of mind.
PUSH BACK THE NIGHT
GENE VIE GOFF
Polish bright our swords and shields,
Wash clean our festered wounds,
Bind up our sore and bleeding hearts
With words, such as a mother croons
Tell us, oh Lord, just once again
That God and good in man remain;
That there is singing still of liberty
A word now in disuse;
That somewhere men unchained and free
Hold fast their own integrity
Their minds not seeking ways to give abuse.
Give us the power to believe
That truth and beauty still are strong and good
Not nets of lies and hatred which deceive.
Give us the glory of a steady flame
A lantern held aloft with light.
Lead us at length from out this awful wood!
Though drenched with tears and sweat and blood,
Help us, we pray, burst through this night.
Give us, oh God, we deeply pray,
The faith that through this bitter dark
There dawns a fairer, brighter day,
And higher and more free will soar the eagle and the lark!
And for this
Be Thy Name
DAISY MARIE GOLDEN
I found myself alone with God,
Prostrate before His face;
I begged Him long and earnestly,
"Oh, Lord, please give me grace."
At first I asked for happiness
To make the burden light,
And then I begged for peace and love:
I thought that I was right.
But while I prayed a still small voice
Spoke gently in my soul,
"Tis not my love nor joy nor peace.
But grace that makes thec whole."
The tears began to fall like rain,
My soul gave way with grief,
I fainted, I revived again,
But did not get relief.
Just then I somehow raised my head.
And Lo! Gethsemane!
I saw my Saviour struggling there
For poor unworthy me.
So now I ask not love and peace
To sweeten the cup to taste,
Nor do I beg for happiness
While adversity I face.
I simply pray, 'Thy will be done,"
In me and every place.
Fve found the joy and happiness
Tis asking God for grace.
INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF LINCOLN
Can you picture his pioneer parents in a cabin rudely built,
With a bright and happy baby cuddled 'neath a bearskin quilt?
And in childhood see him listening by his mother's side
As she reads the Bible stories with a saintly pride.
Then see him in the forest where his alert mind could
Gain knowledge from the animals
The children of the wood.
Oh, see the boyish pride as he views the new'built hut
Made of rough-hewn logs that he and his father cut.
Next, he's writing to a minister about his great grief,
Asking for his mother's memory a service if only brief.
See the boy trudging mile upon mile, a meager education to get,
Then in sprawling posture before the fireplr.ce more knowledge he
Visualise the lawyer as both beast and man he assists
From the enthrallments of the sticky slime and the criminal lists.
Ever forging forward until he gains the legislative seat,
Here his wisdom and clear vision could never meet defeat.
When in the throes of great distress our nation sent out a call,
He responded and the people put him in the Presidential Hall.
Oh the greatness of that soul on that day in sixty-three
When he signed that great decree which set a people free!
Oh such a great loss his untimely death was to the nation!
And yet how gloriously he has been revered by each generation.
Willie's on the garden gate
Swinging to and fro,
Gating long and lovingly
At the garden row.
There's a mighty pumpkin
With green and crooked neck,
"I'm saving it for Hallowe'en,
I'll scare you, too, by heck."
Yes, Willie gazes longingly.
And plans within his mind.
Of huge and fiery goblins
With witches to combine
Soon mother comes a'tripping
In through the garden gate.
Directly to that pumpkin
And there she hesitates.
Willie's heart is sinking fast.
His eyes are large and round
When mother stoops and plucks the thing
That lies there on the ground.
Dropping from the garden gate,
His lips begin to pout,
He gives a stone a vicious kick
Then throws his small chest out.
"Oh, what's the use of dreaming
Of witches flying high,
When ma takes my pumpkin,
And makes it into pie?"
THE ARMY NURSE
DAISY SALOME GRAVES
All hats off to her,
This woman who without fear
Leaves home, friends and all
To answer her country's call.
No matter to what lonely spot she's sent,
She accepts her orders without comment.
Though 'mid shot and shell she works
Never a task she shirks.
With patience and with skill
She nurses the wounded and ill.
She is nurse, mother, and sister to the Boys
She shares with them their sorrows and joys.
Though her heart is low
Her face must be kept aglow;
With a smile and a word of cheer
She strives to comfort her patients in hours most drear.
WHEN PEOPLE SAY
VICTORIA L. GRAVES
When people say I look real nice
I feel so good because I know
That they are really praising you,
Since you are my best friend and beau,
And when I dress I dress for you
And hope that you will be well pleased.
I do not mind if jokes are made
Or if Fm continually teased.
f When people say I look real nice
. A sparkle makes me gay,
Because I know that you are proud
When such things some people say.
VERENA C. GRAY
I wonder when you are asleep
All cosy in your beds,
What little dreams go dancing
Through your pretty, sleepy heads.
Now when as tiny babies
You smiled as you slept,
You were "playing with the angels"
As they their vigil kept.
Dear little son, are you dreaming
Of your blocks or soldiers bold,
Of your gun or ball or arrow,
Of a story you've been told?
And "Sister", now that you Ye fifteen.
Too old for little toys,
Do you dream of high school partie5.
Of happy girls and boys?
Go on dreaming, my sweet children,
Just of pleasant, happy things,
And your hearts will be much lighter
Filled with happy childhood dreams.
A TEACHER'S LAMENT
LULA LEE GREENE
I can not do the things I like
For I teach school.
Can't put on shorts and ride a bike
As I teach school.
When things go wrong, I dare not swear.
Nor do I often tear my hair
When I teach school.
The children think I am a saint.
Don't I teach school?
They try to make me what I ain't
Since I teach school.
No bar-hound offers me a drink
Goodness! what would the parents think?
I teach their school!
I would like to be myself
Though I teach school.
Must I be put upon the shelf
If I teach school?
No knight comes riding to my aid.
Who wants a plain neurotic maid?
So I teach school.
It is a truth that deep within
Can be hidden the throbs of joy.
The pangs and thorns no longer therein
Are trampled and tossed ahoy
As the flotsam and jetsam of the sad lost ship
Of the foe no longer to be.
For never and never to part from the lip
Aught but rapture and glee.
This strain to ope the sinking hatch
And free the profound light
Is really a task of due match
In this world of storm and blight.
Downed once with failure is only to rise
With greater hopes of venture to surmise.
Love is such a funny thing.
It breaks a heart or gives a ring;
Sometimes it is returned with care;
Sometimes it isn't even there;
You find it in the oddest places
And always on the strangest faces;
It never acts just the same;
I wonder at its name.
Love acts in the queerest way.
Sometimes it only lasts a day;
Again it may a lifetime last;
Some see it as it goes past;
Some find it not at all;
Others somehow always fall;
Why doesn't it stay the same?
It only has one name.
A dosen meanings for one word;
The oddest thing I ever heard.
Feelings, thrills, hugs, kisses,
Comely lads, and dainty misses;
Each has a different thought
And yet only love is sought.
Why can't it behave the same
When it only has one name?
Lovely flowers dream
Where south breezes gay
Garden ferns caress
By the placid bay.
So the stars above
Gleam on each red rose
To add charm it seems
To this garden close.
Lovely flowers dream
While south breezes blow
Where mid swaying ferns
Moonbeams glide just so;
While shadows gay
Gambol here and there,
Music soft but sweet
Sounds clear on the air.
HE RESTORETH MY SOUL
ENID S. GRIFFITH
Thank God for quiet places, breathing cool
Refreshing winds upon our fevered brains
Distraught by life and all its daily strains
Places apart: as by a sheltered pool;
Or little nooks where rivers gently flow
And sunlight weaves with shadows on a loom;
Or tranquil spots where tiny flowers bloom
Unhurt by feet which tramp and gales that blow,
Or where the blue, clear mirrored in a lake,
Beholds the sky, whose image it would bear;
Or just the silent room and couch for prayer
Where deep realities become awake
Thank God for quiet places far removed,
Whose strength the toiling ones of earth have proved!
DOROTHY R. GRIGG
Face east, my soul!
The night and yesterday are fled
Down corridors of time to be forgot.
Behold the light!
The day is here untried, unspoiled;
Effulgent glory of new things to be,
Undreamed, or only faintly dreamed before;
Given to thee like a new birth
To make by thine own will God'worthy.
E. J. GRIGSBY
Sometimes I fish on Sunday in some stream
And angle for the crappie and the bass;
I may lie down for one whole hour and dream
On nature's velvet carpet of green grass.
Above, the clouds with everchanging shape
Would chase each other through the cool blue sky
Reminding me of soft and silky crepe
Hung on God's silken clothesline thread to dry.
The sighs and sobs of vagrant breeze,
The murmuring brook, sweet Nature's lullaby,
Had soothed frayed nerves and set my mind at ease;
I slept 'neath shadow blankets of the sky.
When I can spend an hour alone with God
In some secluded spot where angels hide,
Forgetting all aEout my reel and rod,
I'm happy and my soul is satisfied.
When I return at eve with well filled creel
My conscience with the world has no discord,
Instead of feeling that Fve sinned I feel
That I have had a visit with my Lord.