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Full text of "X Collection 1603"



X Collection 



INDEX 



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PROPERTY OF THE 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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THE 

MARK TWAIN HOME 

AND MUSEUM 






IN HANNIBAL, MISSOURI 




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Br 

Harrison White, Lawyer 

of the 
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X'PS IC3I#'/ 



Emerson and Chemistry 



BY 

CHARLES ALBERT BROWNE 



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"In J-lis Own Country" 



By ■ . 

John C. [French 

Librarian of The Johns llopkins University 



AN ADDRESS DELIVERED BEFORE 

THE EDGAR ALLAN POE SOCIETY OF BALTIMORE 

at the commemoration in 
Westminster Church, January 19, 1939 



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Printed for %e Edpr JUan Poe Society 

By J. n J^urst Company 

Baltimore, !Md. 

1939 



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X' P5:2fcoo :/f(J 



POE IN AMITY STREET 



BY 

MAY GARRETTSON EVANS 



[Reprinted from The Maryland Historical Magazine, XXXVI, 4, December, 1941.] 



I 



X- PS :iicDo 

^7 



THE INFLUENCE AND 

REPUTATION OF 

EDGAR ALLAN POE 

IN EUROPE 



by 

WILLIAM T. BANDY 
Professor of French, University of Wisconsin 



Printed by 

FRANK T. CIMINO COMPANY 

Baltimore, Maryland 




X- PS 2b00 

4% 



and BALTIMORE 



The stormy life and tragic death of Edgar Allan Poe are inseparably 
linked with Baltimore. Although he was born in Boston and lived for 
some years in New York and Philadelphia, Poe called himself, and is 
still considered, a Southerner. His connection with Baltimore rests 
primarily upon his ancestry, long identified with the city and Mar)'land. 
His father, David Poe, Jr., was the son of Major David Poe, a Revolu- 
tionary patriot. Young David Poe became an actor at nineteen, and 
married Ehzabeth Arnold, a young and talented English actress. Edgar 
Poe was born January 19, 1809. A year later Poe's father died, and 
in 1811 his mother died in Richmond. The rich, childless Mrs. John 
Allan, who adopted the three-year-old boy, gave him her wholehearted 
devotion. Mr. Allan, a dour, egotistical Scottish merchant, was also 
attached to Edgar; but they were destined to irritate and antagonize 
each other. Poe was given a good education, first in England, then 
at a private school in Richmond, whence he went in 1826 to the 
University of Virginia. The lack of understanding between Poe and 
Mr. Allan led at last to an open break; and he left college to enlist 
in the army. 

T?OE IN BALTIMORE 

In May, 1829, after his discharge, Poe arrived in Baltimore to make 
his home with his widowed aunt, Mrs. Maria Clemm. The family was 
very poor and the poet shared their hardships in a small frame house 
on Mechanics Row, Wilks Street, near the route of the present Eastern 
Avenue. Here he anxiously awaited news of an appointment to West 
Point. In the meantime he hoped to earn a living by means of his 
pen, and in December, 1829, Al Aaraaf, Tamerlane and Minor Poems 
was published by Hatch and Dunning of this city. 

After a brief and luckless career at West Point, Poe returned early 
in 1831 to his aunt's home in Baltimore, where he spent the next four 
years in bad health and extreme poverty. Yet he applied himself faith- 
fully to the writing of short stories and his only drama, Politian. In 
Oaober, 1833, came his first success. In a competition conduaed by 
the Saturday Visiter, a Baltimore weekly magazine, one of Poe's entry 
of six stories, Tales of the Folio Club, won the prize of fifty dollars. 
,. In 1833 Mrs. Clemm moved to Amity Street in west Baltimore. 



X- PS2hoO 

THE STORY OF THE POE HOUSE 
IN BALTIMORE 

BY 

JOHN C. FRENCH 

A Publication of the Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore 

The Poe House in Baltimore was built about 1830 at what 
was then the western edge of a city of 80,000. It was one of 
twin brick houses, each fourteen feet wide, joined by a party 
wall, their first floors separated by a narrow passage known as 
a dividing alley, which gave access to a common areaway and 
through it to the two back yards. No other houses then fronted 
on Amity Street on either side in their block. If as is supposed, 
Poe occupied the attic room, his one dormer vnndow looked 
out westward on green fields and woods. 

The Amity Street household consisted of Mrs. Maria Poe 
Clemm, 1790-1871; her invalid mother, Mrs. David Poe, Sr., 
1756-1835, widow of a Revolutionary patriot and herself a 
friend of Lafayette; Mrs. Clemm's ten-year-old daughter, Vir- 
ginia; and her nephew, Edgar, aged twenty-three. They had 
moved, probably in 1832, from a house near the waterfront on 
what is now Eastern Avenue, exchanging a home in the busy 
streets of the oldest part of Baltimore for one much more favor- 
able for the health of the ailing grandmother and the none-too- 
strong Virginia. 

When he came from West Point to live with his aunt, Poe 
had already published three slender volumes of verse which 
brought him no money and little fame. He now turned to prose 
fiction and made himself master of a type of short story that 

Contintied on Page 4 



THE STORY OF THE POE HOUSE 
IN BALTIMORE 



JOHN C. FRENCH 

A Puhlicaticm of the Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore 

The Poe House in Baltimore was built about 1830 at what 
was then the western edge of a city of 80,000. It was one of 
twin brick houses, each fourteen feet wide, joined by a party 
wall, their first floors separated by a narrow passage known as 
a dividing alley, which gave access to a common areaway and 
through it to the two back yards. No other houses then fronted 
on Amity Street on either side in their block. If as is supposed, 
Poe occupied the attic room, his one dormer window looked 
out westward on green fields and woods. 

The Amity Street household consisted of Mrs. Maria Poe 
Clemm, 1790-1871; her invalid mother, Mrs. David Poe, Sr., 
1756-1835, widow of a Revolutionary patriot and herself a 
friend of Lafayette; Mrs. Clemm 's ten-year-old daughter, Vir- 
ginia; and her nephew, Edgar, aged twenty-three. They had 
moved, probably in 1832, from a house near the waterfront on 
what is now Eastern Avenue, exchanging a home in the busy 
streets of the oldest part of Baltimore for one much more favor- 
able for the health of the aihng grandmother and the none-too- 
strong Virginia. 

When he came from West Point to hve with his aunt, Poe 
had already pubhshed three slender volumes of verse which 
brought him no money and little fame. He now turned to prose 
fiction and made himself master of a type of short story that 

Continued on Page 4 







%e Shrine oj Poe 

203 Amity Street, Baltimore 



In these low rooms, when meadows green and wide 
Crept close to this small house, a poet dreamed 
Strange gripping tales, and haunting verse that seemed 
From realms where songs of Israfel abide. 
The fret of pain he gallantly defied. 
And framed a world within this attic room. 
Here visions soared and lit the shadowed gloom, 
While cold neglect and hunger he denied. 

Now nations glorify Poe's cherished name, 
And culture seeks this home to honor him 
Whose youth was shaped into a rare design. 
Bravely he climbed the arduous steps of fame 
That fills his memory to its hallowed brim 
And changes this hushed house into a shrine. 



Written for the Edgar Allan Toe Society of Baltimore by Helen 
Bayley Davis, author of Tomorrow is Herr, I Shall Sing a Songt 
and other works. 






^ -JUL 19 

Cony 

HENRY DAVID THOKEl^ 



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3 



ORGANIZATION 

OF THE Boston Branch of the 

WALT WHITMAN FELLOWSHIP aNTERNATIONAL.) 



In pursuance of a call issued by the Committee appointed at 
an informal meeting (September 2, 1894.) of members of the 
Wait Wliitman. Fcno'u;ship (^International') living' in Boston, 
a meeting; was held on November 8, 1 894, at the home of Mr. 
Edward Payson Jackson, 41 Lyndhurst Street, Dorchester, which . 
effected a permanent organization for a Boston Branch of the 
Walt Whitman Fellowship by the adoption of a Constitution 
which is printed herewith, and by the election of officers. 

Walt Whitman's works have been translated into many Euro- 
pean languages, and he has lovers in almost every foreign 
country. The Wait Whitman Fello-juship (International') is 
an organization whose object is to unite all persons interest- 
ed in his life and work. It seeks to establish a single 
bond of union — interest in or love of Whitman. It is essential- 
ly democratic and informal ; it does not attempt to proselytize 
but welcomes all who desire membership, and aims to be a 
centre of supply for those who seek information for the study 
of Whitman. In furtherance of this end it is publishing (in uni- 
form size and consecutively paged for binding) a series of papers 
of critical and personal value, which are furnished without cost 
to each member of the Fellowship. 

The Boston Branch of the Fellowship aims to continue work 
upon the same lines as the international body with such added 






WALT WMIT/HAN TELLOWSMIP: IN- 
TERNATIONAL: /nCETING. BOS- 
TON. .n.\Y 31, IS96 



This is at once the third annual meeting of the Fellowship 
and the ninth consecutive celebration of Walt Whitman's birth- 
day. 

The meeting will be divided into two sessions. 

An aftern(jon session will take place in the rooms of the 
Twentieth Century ChTb, 14 Ashburton Place, at three o'clock. 
.\ddresses are expected from John Burroughs, Charlotte Porter, 
Francis Howard Williams, Richard Maurice Bucke, Thomas B. 
Marned, Edward Payson Jackson, and others. Readings will 
I)e given by Mary Dana Hicks and F. W. Peabody. A more 
definite program of this sitting will be issued at a later date. 

An evening session, at eight o'clock, has been arranged for 
at Hotel Bellevue, 13 Beacon street, where a dinner will be pro- 
vided (the cost to each participant being one dollar and a half) 
and where the regular business of the annual meeting, which in- 
cludes the election of officers, will be transacted, informal speeches 
following, together with Whitman songs, by H. D. Young and 
Miss Van Wagenen. 

Both sessions are to be free to the public. Visitors will be 
asked to refrain from voting on matters of business. 

Members or others who purpose attending the dinner should 
express tliemselves to that effect immediately, addressing H. D. 
Young, 314 Boylston street, Boston, who is Chairman of the Local 
Committee on Arrano-ements. 



Philadelphia, May 4th, 1896. 



HORACE L. TRAUBEL, 

Secretary. 



Tlic Secretary's aildress is Camden, ycio Jersey, U. S. . I. 






WALT WHIT.'HAN rELLOWSHIP: IN- 
TCRNATIONr\L : /HECTING. BOS- 
TON. MAY 31. 1896 



This is at once the third animal meeting of the Fellowship 
and the ninth consecutive celebration of Walt Whitman's birth- 
ilay. 

The meeting will be divided into two sessions. 

An afternoon session will take place in the rooms of the 
Twentieth Century Club, 14 Ashburton Place, at three o'clock. 
Addresses are expected from John Burroughs, Charlotte Porter, 
Francis Howard Williams, Richard Maurice Bucke, Thomas B. 
Harned, Edward Payson Jackson, and others. Readings will 
lie given by Mary Dana Hicks and F. W. Peabody. A more 
definite program of this sitting will be issued at a later date. 

An evening session , at eight o'clock, has been arranged for 
at Hotel Bellevue, 13 Beacon street, where a dinner will be pro- 
vided (the cost to each participant being one dollar and a half) 
and where the regular business of the annual meeting, which in- 
cludes the election of officers, will be transacted, informal speeches 
following, together with Whitman songs, by H. D. Young and 
Miss Van Wagenen. 

Both sessions are to be free to the public. Visitors will be 
asked to refrain from voting on matters of business. 

Members or others who purpose attending the dinner should 
express themselves to that effect immediately, addressing H. D. 
Young, 314 Bojdston street, Boston, who is Chairman of the Local 
Committee on Arrangements. 



HORACE L. 



TRAUBEL, 

Secrdarv. 



Philadelphia, May 4th, 1S96. 



The Secretary's adiiress is Camilen, Neii' Jersey, (J. S. A. 



'^.... 



^ . _r.. ^. . J .^_^..^,B^_ 



Boston Branch of the 
Walt Whitman Fellowship (International) 



PROGRAMME 



jt THIRD SESSION •* 

Meetings at 7.45 p.m. 



J 896-7 



15 October. 
19 November. 

I December. 

17 December. 
21 January. 

iS February. 

18 March. 



15 April. 



31 May. 



At Miss Pokteh's and Miss Clarke's, 3 Joy street. 
Open meeting. .\nnual election. Informal talk 
by Mr. Hor.ace L. Traubel. 

At Dr. G. p. Wiksell's, 410 Hotel Pelham 
"Woman and Freedom." Mrs. Helen Abbott 
Michael. Addre.sses by Dr. Daniel G. Brin- 
Tox and Dk. Oscar L. Tiiiggs. 

Special meeting. At rooms of Twentieth Century 
Club. "Democratic Art." Dr. Oscar L. Triggs. 

At 410 Hotel Pelham. "Anne Gilchrist and Walt 
Whitman." Miss Elizabeth Porter Gould. 

At 410 Hotel Pelham. Readings from Whitman's 
unpubHshed letters. Informal talk on Whitman 
and Emerson by .Mr. Frank B. Sanborn. 

At 410 Hotel Pelham. "Walt Whitman's Comrade- 
ship." Reading from Peter Doyle letters, "Cala- 
mus," etc. Mr. Laurens Maynard. 

At 410 Hotel Pelham. "Spiritual Teaching of Whit- 
man's Poems.' Rev. L M. Powers. 
Poems: "A Song of Joys;' "The City Dead- 
House;" "Song of Myself," stanza 48 to end; "I 
sing the Body Electric," and "On the Beach at 
Night Alone." 

At 410 Hotel Pelham. Open meeting. Readings 
from Whitman's Prose Works and unpublished 
letters. Mr. Horace Lunt. Whitman's Prose 
Works (Ed'n '92). A Night Uattle, p. 34. Abra- 
ham Lincoln, p. 43- '^o^n at the Front, p. 49- 

Whitman Birthday Commemoration. Afternoon meet- 
ing in Walden Wood, Concord ; dinner at Thoreau 
House, Concord. 






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" (Ebe rraHcr toill alujapa baue Ijts or (jtr part to Jo inst asi mutib 
as ij IjaDe IjaU mine." 

Boston Branch oi ^ ^ 

The Walt Whitman Fellowship 

(INTERNATIONAL) 

Meetings at 7.45 P. M. at 410 Hotel Pelham 

Programme, Fourth Session, 1897-98 

PERSONALITY IN WHITMAN 

[A line of informal but coherent discussion taking its start from Whitman's 
own design and claim for Lfaves of Grass : " to articulate and faithfully ex- 
press in literary or poetic form, and uncompromisingly, my own physical, 
emotional, moral, intellectual, and aesthetic personality " {A Backward Glance 
o'er Travel'ti Roads, p. 6); and finding its cues for the two-fold (i) literary, 
(2) scientific illustration proposed in Whitman's statements that " the conclu- 
sions of the Leaves are arrived at through the temper and inculcation of the 
old works as much as through anything else — perhaps more than through 
anything else " (p. 1 2), and that they grew out of a desire that American poetry 
should "build on the concrete realities and theories furnish'd by science" 
and " the modern time " (p. 10).] 

October 21. Open Meeting. 

Annual election of officers. 

November 18. I. Physical Personality. 

In Leaves of Grass. Poems: "As Adam Early 
in the Morning"; "I sing the Body Elec- 
tric." Frederick W. Peabody. 

Literary Illustration. Helena Born. 

Scientific Illustration. Edward P. Jackson. 
Query for Symposium of Opinion : Do you think 

Whitman confuses body with soul ? 



X- 1^ ^ >> 2 3 1 



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" ©ne'B 6clf 5 Binff, a ample stpatatr person, 

pet ttttet t!)e fflorli l^tmotratit, tljc njorJ €n=ifla8fle." 

, . ^^^ ^^ ^w ^Jw ^pW 

Boston Branch of ^ ^^ ^ 
1 he Walt Whitman Fellowship 

(INTERNATIONAL) 

Programme, Fifth Session, 18984899 

Meetings at 8 P. M. 

^*' ^w ^w ^* ^w 

PROGRESS OF DEMOCRACY ; ' 

(The names of the speakers will be announced before each meeting.) 

October 20. At 410 Hotel Pelham. 

Open Meeting. Annual election. 

November 17. At 410 Hotel Pelham. 

" Democracy from the Anarchist's Point of 
View." Meeting in charge of GusTAVE P. WiK- 
SELL, Chairman. Open discussion. 

December 15. At 3 Joy Street. 

" Democracy from the Socialist's Point of 

View." Meeting in charge of Helen M. Tufts, ;. 

Chairman. Open discussion. ^ , /^' 

January 19. At 410 Hotel Pelham. 

" Democracy as the Imperialist 5ees It." 
Meeting in charge of Frederick W. Peabody, 
Chairman. Open discussion. 

February 16. At 3 Joy Street. . ,. , 

" Democracy as Practised in America." Meet- 
ing in charge of Edward Payson Jackson, Chair- ' .; . ■ • 
man. Open discussion. ' ■ 






-^i^-r^-^-r-^^ 



"2r?(e main 6|)ape8 artge! 
S)!)ape0 of ^cntotracp total, reeult of Centnrieo." 

Boston Branch of ^ ^ ^ 
The Walt Whitman Fellowship 

n: > , (INTERNATIONAL) 

^fi^ tfi^ t^^ 1^^ ^3^ 

Programme, Seventh Session, 1900-01 

Meetings at 8 P. M. 
at 3 Park Street, Room 7 (one flight). 

^^9 ^^9 ^^t ^^m ^^9 

MANIFESTATIONS OF THE WHITMAN SPIRIT: 

Democratic Tendencies in Contemporaneous Life 
and Thought. 



October i8. Open Meeting. Annual election. 

November 22. Politics. William Bailie. Open discussion. 

December 13. Religion. Thomas Carleton O'Brien and 
Helen M. Tufts. Open discussion. 

January 17. Fiction. Charlotte Porter. Open discus- 
sion. 

February 28. Opposition Movements. Edward Payson 
Jackson. Open discussion. 

Marcli 28. Whitman's Individualism in its Relations to 

Modern Socialism. George Willis Cooke. 
• Open discussion. .: ■ , _ ; s, .'. 



^\ K:.-, 



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X-PS 3503 



4528 NEWBERRY TERRACE 

;SntKt dCuHts 



3ucln6i*ii ^litmns 3 Ititpc iniit fiu^ iutrrrstiu^ wviix jtsi^ful, nlstx that gint rerwbc the snttt?, 
3 nntiaiit, ^lititrs ticr^ tntb, 



EXTRACTS FROM I,R'ITKR» OF 
RKCOti.MTICO. 

Very sensible — and moat pfraciou.s lansuase. 
alsii vtry syiiipatlutic. 

Ivinp' Albeit ;nul Qvieen Elizabetli of l!el- 
Kiuni. 

Wen- more of tbt-se sentiments puhli.shed 
it woukl do a great deal of good. 

I'. S. I'ood Adminstration, 
/ R. Lenfestey. 

I'.y District Food Administrator. 

The Author is to be highly commended in 
every way. 

N'alional Headquarters United Spanish War 
Veterans. Otto N. Raths. Adj. Oen. 

The doors of the Bates School. St. Louis, 
llo.. are always open to America's ftreatest 
Mivinfc poet. Berton Bellis. 

From an address l>y the principal, Mr. 
Dickey. Bates Scliool, St. Louis. 

Your worl<s liave, indeed, done their full 
part in stirringr the blood of the patriots of 
our ^reat country. 

Xational Council. AVorld "War Veterans, 
f'h.'jrie.'- -M. nKpluin, Adt. Oin. 

To the American I'oet. Berton Bellis — 

One of America's greatest master genius 
of poetry — and most highly recognized — 
greetings: — E. K. .\bery. 

To the American F'oet — 

^'our poems alwa.vs receive a hearty ai"»- 
plause and everybody asks for more. 

Your writings are higlily appreciated by 
the school children and adult.^. 

.Vllow vi.< to congratulate >'Ou as .Vmerioa's 
.\[aster pen — and one of our greate.^t poets, 
I am. 

Yours ver.v truly. 

W. H. HFBMAX, 

l,.ibert.v. Xeb. 

.July 1.-,. liMM. 
To the .\merican Poet — Berton Bellis: 

Your business system deserves great credit 
during and after llie great world war, in 
.■-ending typed and printed copies of your 
inspiring poems to newspapers, camps, the 
Red Cross chapter, recruiting offices, schools, 
gov»-rnment organizations, etc.. etc. 

We wisli to express our appreciation of 
your worliing gratis and spenfiing your valu- 
able linie. using .vour own funds, as we will 
never forget tliose who helped us in the great 
cause. 

Your poems did their bit as an inspiring 
force aiid we wish to congratulate you as 
one of .Xnierica's most liighly rei-ognized 
and greatest of poets. We 7'emain. 
ed soldiers of the David Rankin. .Ir.. School 
,1. A. Connelly, and ti-.e wound- 
of Jf'ch.'iiiica! Trade,-. St. T.ouis. 
Sincerely. 



Congratulations to the .Vmerican Poet who 
lias received one of tlie AVorld's Highest 
llccognitions from the Hoboes up to the 
Kings. — Helen Zulauf. 

To The .Vmerican Poet — Berton Bellis — 

Mo.st sincere congratulations from a friend 
of childhood days who has seen you climb 
from a boy up the ladder of great success 
as a poet of master skill and recognition. 
I'ame always rewards such a genius. 
Your unselfishness and a warm hesrt for 
the unfortunate have payed you beyond what 
gold can buy — ^A home in the hearts of men — 
1 am. Vours ver.v truly. 

IIRS. C. H. WHITLOW. 

1 am very sure your vvriting^s have been of 
universal inspiration where ever they have 
l>een read. 

U. S. A. — Treasury Dept. 
Colorado State Liberty Loan and 
War Savings Committees., 
Jos. Polk, Jr., 
Asst. Secretary. 

To the .\merican Poet: 

J wish to thank .N'ou for the poem "On The 
Tioad To Yeslerda.v" tliat you wrote on I'e- 
quest and dedicated to our school — "Bates 
.^cliool. St. Louis. " 

Vour poems always bring entluisiastio ap- 
plau.-:e. 

At our picnic there were several thousand 
present and wlien your poem was read and 
the principal mentioned .vou as one of the 
"Shining Lights in -American Literature" 
your name brought a heav.v round of ap- 
plause and lasted for quite a number of 
mintites. 

.\.s your poems are taught in our school, 
we are veiy familiar with them, I thank 
'.■■Ml sinr-erel.\". 

Wm. v.. P.urbes. 

To the .\meiican Poet. Berton Bellis: 

V(.tur verses were highly appreciated by 
the children of our school, who became ver.v 
eiithu.^ed over your poems and are always 
asking for more. 

My teacher says she knows of no poet who 
writes any better. 

.\\\ of >'our poems receive a heav.v ap- 
plnus.- and encore. I remain. 

Yours very truly, 

Lorettj -\nsus. 

Kns'ene Field Scliool. St. Louis. 

To the .American Poet; 

You are to be congratulated not onl.v on 
your success as a poet Ijut also for the stand 
you cook during the "great world war." 

When you were refused is a volunteer 
aiifl also in the draft "eyesisht" you took 
'■■lY your coat and hat and "got busy" and 
.t 1 .V".'Ur own time and expense had Thousands 



of your "highly inspiring:" and "full of pep" 
poems typed and printed, and understanding 
propaganda, sent them broadcast thru the 
Rieat orsanizations. schools, armies, etc., 
and they did their full part to stir up the 
patriotic blood of ours and associated nations. 

We wish you god-speed as one of -America's 
greatest and most powerful poets. 

We are. K. H. Staton, and the boys along 
the road. 

:MISS0URI HISTORICAL SOCIETY, 

Jefferson ifemorial, St. Louis. 
We congratulate you on your good work. 
Please accept our deep appreciation. 
Very sincerely, 

X'. Harvey Beauregard, 
Aru>. 

THE AMERIC.\X LEGIOX HEADQUARTERS) 

Ma8.iachusetts Branch 

Boston. ' 

"JIake It a Real Victory." It is well 
worthy of the greatest commendations. 
Leo. .A. .Spillane. 
.'^tate .Secretary. 

Congratulations to our young .American 
poet, who has made good in a great world 
crisis and wlio writes with the master pe|i 
most powerful and touching. I wish >o|i 
god-speed. I remain, sincerely, j' 

Percy Hutson. i 

Kingstree. .''. C 

PUBLIC SCHOOLS, 
Wellsville. X, V. 
We congratulate you upon your success 
as a poet. 

H. J. Stene. 
.\cting .Supt. 

PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 

Oak Park, 111. 
Poems 'Old Olory," "Farewell of the Blue 
and Gray." "Poem of Peace." "The Xew 
Memorial." 

I have placed these in tlie hands of our 
teachers of literature in the upper grades. 
W. J. Hamilton. 
Superintendent. 

PUBLIC .';ciIOOL.S. 

I'rovo, Utah. 
Vour poems "Life" and ".\ Heavenly Treas- 
ure" 1 wish to thank you very much for 
i/ie lliots therein expressed. 

My fellow t>-achers shall enjoy ihem. You 
may be a.-ssured that they will leave joy in 
•he heart of ev>'r.v reader. 

L. R Kggertsen. 

.Superintendent. 



X-PS 3503 



^fAKB IT A REAL Vl< TOIIV. 

By Bprton liellis. 

.Vatiiins bled — Ireroes died, 

.Mortals suffered — humanity cried. 

Rencath the fields where the haiveste grrow. 

Lie myriads of faithful dead, 

.Mans-led, scattered to and fro — 

Sacrifices supreme; 

They gave their all, . 

W'e have living wounded 

Who heeded the call. 

The oceans wide and fathomless deep. 
Guards bodies in everlasting: sleep — 
As tides will ebb and waves roll hl^h, 
The.se soul.s — martyrs — 
All seem to cry:, 

"Unite as brothers across the sea 

In permanent peace and liberty. 

Mock not at us who had to ilie. 

There's good in man — 

Strike down that lie! 

Let not your je.ilousy. hate and greed. 

Delay or hinder 

The League we need." 

New men will come 

Old ones will go. 

Shall we reap death 

Or peace we sow 

Or shall we in .some future year, 

Drink this same potion, 

A poisoned bitter tear — 

Or shall the babe at breast near by. 

Tomorrow in the .<!ame grave lie? 

Or shall the world united stand. 

Like, glorious America! 

A man's free land! 

Remember! 

Failure, the terrible cost — 

Is nothing but a Victory Lost. 

Author of "The Lost Companion," "The Call 
of a Soul," "Hell Has Moved to the liordir," 
"An Old Pal O'Mlne. " etc. 



aift 

'Atltlior 



)tPS 3503 



THK AMEniCA.V LKGIO.V. 

By IJerton Bellis. 

Warriors— Freemen— Heroes? 
United as comrades in peac<': 
Laurels — Honors — JIeinorie«: 
'i'liiit sliall never, never cea.se. 
The (ury ol battle.s ttie .vesterdnv. 
.Shall live in your liearLs anew. 
When gathered around your camp fire. 
Brave .sons of the red. white and blue. 






Beciowned with God's rare blessing:8. 
Victorious — Fearle.s8 and Bold — 
Erave.s of the AMERICAN LEGION. 
Thru all future your deeds will be told. 

United — Fraternal — Good fellovv.ship — 
With a clasp of a brotherly hand; 
No order possesses the power you hold. 
Or records of your great band. 
As old age creeps on its Journey > 
.Vnd your liair turns silvery gray, 
Tho your body i.< bent and feeble — 
Your memories will be fresh as today. 

.loin in the big drive for members, 

Your comrades are calling for you I 

Your buddie.s and pals in battle. 

A new drive in peace you can do. 

With the beat of drum and bvigle call. 

In memory of heroes passed away. 

At camp Area — posts — in memorial halls — 

Unite for your future day. 



Author of 
Buy a Bond.' 
etc. 



"The Victory Loan," "Get Busy— 
"HTell has Moved to the Border," 



X-PS 3503 



MAKE IT A IlKAL \ H I'OIIV. 

By Derton Bellis. 

Xiitioris bled — heroes died. 

Mortals suffered — huniaiiity ciled. 

Beneath the fields where the harvests sro»-. 

Lie myriads of faitliful diad, 

Mahsled, scattered to and fro — 

.Sacrifices supreme; 

Tliey grave their all, 

We have living wounded 

Who heeded the call. 



The oceans wide and fathomless deep. 
Guards bodies in everlasting: sleep — 
As tides will ebb and waves roll hi^rh, 
Tljeae souls — martyr 
All seem to ery: 



"Unite as brothers across the sea 

In permanent peace and liberty. 

Mock not at us who had to die. 

There's good in man — 

Strike down that lie! 

Let not your jealousy, hate and grreed. 

Delay or hinder 

The League we need." 

New men will come 

Old ones will go. 

Shall we reap death 

Or peace we sow 

Or shall we in some future year. 

Drink this same potion, 

A poisoned bitter tear — 

Or shall ilie b.nbe at breast near by, 

Tomorrow In the .-^ame grave lie? 

Or shall the world united stand. 

Like, glorious .America! 

A man's free land! 

Remember! 

Failure, the terrible cost — 

Is nothing but a Victory Lost. 

Author of "The Lost Companion." "The Call 
of a .Soul," "Hell Has Moved to the Border," 
"An Old Pal O'Mine, " etc. 



Gift 

Author 

ocr 22 tau 



^/PS 3503. E4f^^^ 



%: 



VUV. SALVATHCH AHMV. 

By Berton l!i-llis. 

Warm tears ironi the heart of a pearl; 
Sufterlnff fiiuiitul Salvation army girl! 
Years will ii'inc: time will pa."*: 
Uiit nations will remembiT. 
And liomir llil.< lasa. 

Christiaji reverenced! God".-* message divine; 
Vour deeds — laurels — shall live; 
Thru all fvUire time. 

P.rave f oniiuereis! strong men! 
Renuuihir — chtrish! weep! 
In the memories of those; 
Now in everlasting sleep. 

Woman! feminine! you sacredly did your part: 
Voluntary; supremely; with body, soul and henrt. 
As in peace you also help"; 
And do tor those In need; 
in war you assisted those; 
Who had to tight and bleed. 

Such was the most glorious: 
.Most gracious part you played; 
Though you wer.-> only known 
.\s plain Salvation army maid. 

Like a laurel-crowned warrior 

With a hale of beaming light 

ill mercy, kindness, tenderness, .sacredness, 

.Most touching and effective to the human htiul. 

Soul, mind conscience and loving memories. 

When all creation seemed torn asunder; 

[n the turmoil of war, agony and suffering 

Heath and desolation, these soldiers of the cro."."; 

.Stepped out of the darkness of night 

Loaded with balm and myrrh for the wounded; 

tJleeding and suffering. 

Merciful, daring and superhumanly faithful; 
Surmounting all obstacles. Kind aggressive: 
Famine, misery and deep disease fled from tli in 
As from the glance of destiny. 
Helping and encouraging the armies of God 
And humanity; rescuing starving orphaned chii- 

dren; 
Widowed mothers who had been reduced .10 

wretchedness 
l!y the military hordes of Hades; 
The most brutal and barbarous known thru .ill 
The receded ages. 

The willing hearts of all humanity 

Have the warmest of tender feelings 

That can always be found locked up sacredly. 

In the .souls of those who were administered to 

Hy these angels here on earth. 

Gods workers! doers of miracles! 

-Makers of sacrifices and achievements 

That will resound thru all future history; 

And be ever green in the memories 

of Future. 

Qod looked down from his throne above 

And smiled on this band of heroes and heroine^; 

.Vnd bade them go forth on their errand of 

mercy. 
.Suffering manhood looked with sUprise and 
Admiration at this band of angels; 
Welcomed them: accepted their merciful offti- 

ings: 
Orew strong again; went again against the 
Kegions of the foe. 

Conquered: came home victors; laurel wreathed: 
But with heads uncovered with endless prai.«< ; 
For tht'se modern earthly angels. 

.Vutlior of "The Call of Liberty." "Brother.-^ 
.Vcross tjlie Sea." "Humanity's Call," "Answgfr to 
the M^ntn of Iliite, ' etc. ' 



y^' 



X-PS 3503 



( vicDi.x VI. >ii':it< 11:11. 

Uy Berton Dellis. 

When Belgium was ground clown. 

Under the mailed flsts, 

Of the ever heartless war lords, 

With their brutality and triffhtfulness; 

Unimaginable in horror and dreadfulneas; 

Ab were never known before. 



When thf> armies of destruction.. 

Bent on arson, ruin, rape — 

Drinking the blood of freedom: 

Toasting with tears 

Of oufferinR- innocent children — 

Mothers :md the aged. 

Drunk with tlie lust of conque.st. 

.V u.4Khl of warrinj? lead. 

TfjirinK the lieart out of homes; 

ricavinff human Hesh from bones. 



In the midst of the.ie trials 
or bitterness, despair, dread. 
And death; defied by autocraey 
In its most damnable deeds 
Recorded in history. 
The Lord sent a man 
AmonK men! 
Among nations: 
Who made history. 



Apostolus .lesu Chrlsti, 
Cardinal ilercler. 
An apo.xtle of humanity. 
And the rights of mankind. 
Who defied the beasts at bay- 
Who stood by his flock. 
While the wolves snarled 
And destroyed all possible. 



Has ht.story or tradition 

Rver described or mentioned 

.\. more faithful or self-sacriflcinff 

Shepherd, priest, leader, or hero 

Than he? ^, , , 1 

Who stood bravely and unfllnchlnKly 

By his own in their darkest 

.\"nd most appalling hour? ^ 

Author of "The Call of Liberty," "Brotherg 
Across the .Sea." "Humanity's Call,'' "Answer to 

ihe H\tnn of Hate." etc. 



"^ 



^,.-.i>:«?.-;,':..-i: ri," 



■J';'fA«'-».-^s- 



X-PS 3503 



■rHK HBD CKOMt* M («»K. 

Itv Rerton l!i-lli«. 

True wiiiuanhoofl : merciful motherhoodi 
Thru the awful, terrible turmoil of dread. 
War — phiKue— misiT.v and death, crave her all. 
In the srreat and gloriuus i-ause of humanity. 
.Vttentive. obedient. .<ervinir. nur.iins:. helpin;;: 
t'heerinjc the si<'l\. \vound**<l, .-ufferinK'; 
The distres.sed and dylnif. 

liattlelieldH drenched in the blood 

<tf dj^htini? heroes*, is also drenelied. 

In the faithful feminine blood of tho.se niartyr.x. 

Who in their Kloriou.s sacritlee.-< .s\ipreme. 

Suffered and died for their fellow man. 

Tis the hazy dawn of a new atfe; a new world. 
The nun is just peeping over the horizon; and 
Down in the valleys of misery, hate, dread. 

terror. 
Destruction and death, is IlKhting' up the way. 
For all the future to live free men, unyoked. 
L'nchained. un.«laved, in the land of liberty. 

Warm hearts, g-reatful souls, world wide. 
Have carved deep in their memories, 
Kind thouffhts, respect, love. 
For those aujrela of mercy; chiseled deeper; 
Than if carved in cold granite or marble; 
Their noble deeds will live in the memories 
And sraleful hearts of all men. 
In future a^es upon ages. 

Woman who rocks the cradle, who sulTer.<, 

weeps, mourns, 
.stood by as the ministering angel of merciful 

help. 
To aid those who .suffered with .soothing healin;.' 

balm. 
To nurse them back to life, in tlie thickest 
Of hell's battle lury; to do — die — with, for you. 

Feminine who produced Kldith Cavell, whoce 

soul. 
Tho in heaven lives in hearts and memories; 
.\nd will stand out as an inspiration, 
I'or those who sacrifice, gain more 
Than an.v pen, tongue or action can tell, oi 

record. 

The spirit of your sacred motherhood; 
Speaks, heckons to all humanity. 
The he.art of merciful kindness is a sacred bless- 
ing 
That pierces thru the dark clouds of despair; 
Whispering to us; telling us we are never lost. 

The birds will come; harvests will grow; 
Tears weeping suffering, your seeds to sow. 
Have blossomed forth to riot fade, wilt or die; 
Tho in clay beneath the fields silent and cold 
they lie. 

Vour deeds have taken root anew; 

Like the wild winds absorb the dew; 

.Vnd thru all time a lonesome sigh; 

Thru treetops tall and mountains high; 

The birds in heaven will ever sing; 

To your sacred souls from spring to spring. 

Earthly music from day to day; 
While here eternal your memories stay; 
'rOd spoke and sent you with tender care; 
■ .May your souls be rewarded be.vond compare! 
Friends of man in deadly pain; 
Vol! lived merciful then were slain; 
But rewarded, you now in reverence sleep; 
For only the strong know how to weep. 

Author of "The Lost Companion." "The Call 
of a Soul." "Hell Has Moved to the Border." 
"An Old Pal O'Mine, " etc. 



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(iB r f e 1 1 tt 5 s r 

Alii f\ter\> ^car n blfsstttg, 

J.lln§ juuft henlth fulltito ^mt alunif tltr U'a;; — 

Aui) fi^rtintc ^lUtr puckrts ran,"saiui<. 

3-i«ppi; cSit'm It car 



V W 1 I'llKHr;!) IIRAHT OK; XMAS. 

Those bella: thosu bcHs! those ominoua bells 

They haunt iiit- on tlif air: 
Th'\v seem to sc^y as my spirit rebels: 

"I'or She poor vou hadn't ii care," 
T!i» caroi: the caroU this Xnia» carol! 

Huypy music of holy nlKht! 
■Jhis soiiff — this song — this— to — me tautitinsi 
.sohg:; ■ , 

"Did you treat the poor souls rlgrhf?" 

.M\ own— my own — my neglected own; 

I vc allowed them to writhe in pain: 
I \ r- sov-n — I've t<o«-n — and caused them 
srv>an: 

Mv t'oiKliict has been their baine. 
To weep — to weep — yes they would all weep; 

In fuirows of bitterest tears: 
To keep — (o keeiJ — my gold to keep; 

I Ktunted the best of their years. 

Their lives — their lives — their lonsf blighted 
lives: ■ . 

Were forced by me Into hate. ' 

die — to die — and niy jrold survive 



to 




This toll — this toll: this Xmas time toll; 

It palsies my withered hand. 
A soul — a soul — a miserable soul. 

Why did 1 ml.suiiderstand? 
For liist— for lust.— for gilded false lust: 

Gained in gold but lost in love; 
For dust — for dust — for shiny gold dust; ■ 

For its lure I'm cursed from above. 

To Kive— to give — yes I'll gladly give; 

III live in bought up peace then; 
And live — and live — O God let me live: 

'Peace on earth good will to men!" 
In rage — in rage — in terrible rage; 

-My tired brain seems on Are; 
To cage — to cage— more gold to cage; 

Was my constant burnrtng desire. 

Ill peace — in peace — In old age peace; 

Don't let my cursed heart wither: 
• I. cease— O, cease — O. m.v Ood cease! 

For III now be a cheerful giver. 
1' ire wen: Farewell! old earth farewell! 

I'hlB is u^v departing hour; 
r!i..s,. hails— those bells— those hired dirge 
!."U^; 

.\!v coffin contains not one flower. 



THE .«AW Vol" 0\\ t:. 

Tliere i.< a, thing called Justice. 

A .'^ense of doing right. 
Vet .?omf appear liUndfoldeii; 
\iid stagger in the night. 

«'•■ prophesied a ten year.s «ar 
When we went in at the start; 

Tliev won out '1 much shorter ,tlm' : 
.■-laving niiiiionls on your part. 

These' men had wi\c8. uiothers, children; 

Who fared not as well as you; 
We cair never, never,- repay the deail; 

To the living we mti.sl in- tine. 

Ll.sten: Jlr. Taxpayer: 

Whose wealtli did i.'- |iit>icitV 
Xow. whilf- yoii reap .voni- lUvldend.- 

Can joii. your part neglect? 

People need moie than shouting. 

And glory In their pan; 
HLutead of using f r< e your moutli. 

Just open up .vour heart. 

The man in the busy shipyaiii.- 

The man of the nol.-4y mill; 
heceived a living salary: 

And not 33 and good will. 

Kut the boys who faced the music. 

Twenty tour long hours each day; 
Deserve the part' that's due them 

For service across the w«y. 

llemember there's a future; 

We might need these men once more: 
And they re always standing ready; 

So keep good will in store! 

It's about time something's doing; 

Only the honest way la right; 
rolumbia stands for equality; 

Which means share and share fllil;e. 

loot's keep our page in history. 
Bright, spotless, just and clean; 

And show to the hoys who did it. 
What Americanism does really m':in 

When anything Is worth doing; 
Don't ever stop at half way. 

Tliey rtnlahed their Job— '■veil- 
How- about your part today'i 



i. 



.-i .'i Hi' ilt i H'M> 'i n i fiwi ■'in I • fi" 1^ 

S X-PS 3503 



rr i - i Vf fi. i . -Me Mf ' -yj^ ' - ' • V T i— I V i- ^; - 



^tkd l^mms Ixam % l^m ixl |iertmt ptllh 



COPYRIGHT 1927 BY BERTON BEI.UI3 



Published Now and Then 



4543 Newberry Terrace 
ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI 



The Classic Press 



I AM RADIO 

By BERTON BELLI3 
(Official Poet of KWCR Radioplione Station) 

{ am intelligence, education, recreation and en- 
tertainment, broadcast over all lands through 
the air. 
I travel with the waves of ether — and am the 
spoken voice of man who has conquered the 
mystery of the unaeen. 
I echo all doin^rs and great events to the ears 

of the multitudes. 
I am one of the greatest wonders of ages and 
one of the most noble benefits to humanity 
of all time. 
I am the spoken voice through the spirit of the 
universal power — electricity — linked with the 
intelligence of the human being. 
I am men's thoughts scattered universally to the 

peoples of the earth. 
I know no national boundaries and recognize no 
state lines and never sleep or stop before 
a mountain — and am never to be fortified 
against. 
I am at home in the clouds, in the bowels of the 

earth and at the bottom of the deepest sea. 
I am the carrier of the voices of the master 
artists, statesmen, etc., or a transmitter of 
thoughts and teachings from the institutions 
of learning. 
I am a masterpiece of the inventive genius of 

the human mind. 
I am a saver of life by bringing instant mes- 
sages to all the world. 
I ana the largest stage in all the world — for I 
cover the world — my audience is tiie myriads 
of the multitudes — I have made the earth a 
theater. 
I am a result of the accumulative ingenuity of 
man — and show how people can serve others 
by striving to help his fellow man. 
I am the wings of instant speed for the inter- 
pretation of the intellect and conveyor of 
ideas, ideals, etc. 
I am the universal messenger. 

I am an illustrious credit to the present yenera- 

tjon, who has shown all future peoples the 

way to speak, through the ether, in time to 

come. 

I entertain and instruct little children as well 

as the aged and weary. 
I broadcast the truth of the religion of the 

"Good Will to all Men." 
I am the voice and music of men in the heavens. 
I am a hymn of humble man in the endless 

universe of God Almighty. 
I am the messages of encouragement, entertain- 
ment and comfort to the sick, disabled and 
afflicted. 
I am a powerful influence for peace and good 
will — between nations — because healthy under- 
standing is a part of me, and in war I can 
broadcast the truth over an enemy's terri- 
tory and combat greedy propaganda. 
I bring the songs and thoughts of far and dis- 
tant peoples to the firesides of those who 
are kin and friends in other lands. 
I help man to realize that all peoples over the 

earth are — human beings. 
I travel over the barren deserts, the jagged for- 
ests, the briny seas, the frigid snows, as well 
as the wastes or fertile fields — I know no 
barrier. 
I travel instantaneously over the seven seas and 

their shores. 
I am the dreams of the poets and composers ma- 
terialized in the messages and music that 
comes to your homes and meeting places. 
I am the lightning wings of the elements of ether 
and the ringing good cheer from the lands 
and climes of other continents. 



I am instant news from everywhere and instan- 
taneous fame. 

I am a force that hag b^en sou^'ht— found and 
improved by the intelligence of the human 
brain— that will forever be hearlded as— one 
of the greatest, grandest and most noble, also 
most beneficial deeds that man has achieved 
and acconipli.ijhed. 

I am a masterpiece of the ages of discovery and 
the climax of all inventions for the transmis- 
sion of men's messages— and second to none 
ever created or invented. 

I AM RADIO. 

Dedicated to "THE VOICE OP CEDAR RAPIDS." 



A GOLDEN ROAD OF DREAMS 

Swinging on the gate of memories, 

Swinging down the years of time 
Traveling down the lane of the old garden way. 

Back to that old achool sweetheart of mine. 
Over the hills of green memories. 

Back yonder in youth's happy years. 
Laughing again with friends a plenty. 

With no cares, woes or foolish fears. 

In life's garden where flowers of childhood. 
Blessed good cheer with a genuine smile. 

Where braided hair, ginghams and dimples. 
Were the rulers of the latest style. 

In the heart of honest home love, 

V/here the soul beamed happy and free. 

In a home-made heaven of happiness. 
In the old, olden days of you and me. 

Clouds silver all earthly shadows. 

Sunbeams gild all golden happy hours. 

Rainbows beautify the raging storm's end. 
Twilights reflect the glorious beauties of the 
flowers. 

Dreams refresh living glories in one's memories. 

Hearts feel the lingering happiness of yore. 
All beautiful moments lived in childhood. 

Pass aaain in sweet thoughts once more. 

Life changes from smiles to wrinkles. 
Life changes from golden to gray. 

But there's always a key to happiness. 

Locked up in our memories of yesterday. 

Back down the golden roads of childhood. 

Travels the mind of a human soul. 
Hand in hand with youth's sweet dream hours. 

Swinging along one more memory stroU. 



MOTHERS' LOVE 



Just a rose that God dropped from Heaven, 
In His supreme moment while creating His 
best, 

A master gift to all eternity, 

That for ages has withstood every test. 

Just a sunbeam that pierces all shadows. 
Just a love ray that gives us new hope. 

Just a true friend that always remembers. 
Whether we be convict or great man of note. 

Just a jowel rivaling the wealth of all ages, 
A sparkling gem sitting In the heart of a 
home, 
With a radiant luster of faithfulness and kind- 
ness. 
Sending good cheer to wherever we may roam. 

Just the best deed of our Lord in all ages. 
When showering gifts to us from above. 

Is this untold wealth of Heavenly value. 
In our own — True Mother's Love. 



. ..^,:' ■.'-■■*^ «tva*T-:-^ ':-mr xv.T'rtMei _ -— .-- - — -^ 



H ' Z H rii X^ s gvr^ 






X-PS 3503 






COPYRIGHT 1927 BY BERTON BELLIS 



Published Now and Then 



4543 Newberry Terrace 
ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI 



The Classic Press 



HOBO JIM'S GRAVE 

As I stood over some yellow clay. 
Just a newly made ruffled mound. 
Where underneath my dead pal lay. 
Buried in the potter's ground. 

My God, I felt so lonely and sad, 
Tho" I'd never had a home of my own. 
But now I had lost the last buddy I had. 
And was left in this wide world alone. 

I just couldn't keep from a thinkin' 
That God might listen to me. 
So I just ask Him if He'd lend an ear. 
To a hobo on bended knee. 

It was just as I was sayin' my last good-bye 
"That my mind to Heaven did soar, 
So I prayed to God for my partner's soul. 
As I'd never done before. 

"Lord, Jim wasn't much on church goin* 
How to pray he never did know; 
'Cause church folks ain't much on knowin' 
Or carin' about the soul of a hobo. 

Lord, Jim never done no stealin'. 
He never did care for wealth. 
In his heart was a human feelin' 
Clean goodness was just himself. 

Please do take care of him. Lord, 
Give him a chance in the promised land, 
I ain't no choir to play an accord, 
But here is my askin' hand. 

Heavenly harps are made of costly gold. 
But if Jim ain't used to that. 
If some poor sufferer his story told, 
Jim 'ud help wherever he's at. 

Lord, I don't know much about prayin' 
But am forced to ask this by my grief. 
An' I know you will hear what I'm askin' 
'Cause Heaven's alius been my belief." 

I planted a nice young cherry tree 
Right over the spot where he laid, 
So every spring when the blossoms come 
The robins can sing in their shade. 

It ain't no tomb, it's just a plain mound. 
Where he rests in the potter's field. 
Somehow, I know in my heart of hearts, 
God heard me when I appealed. 

For a mockin' bird a singin' close by. 
Eight up on a wilier limb. 
Seemed to say to God right up in the sky, 
"O, God, you must take Jim in." 



Thou 

Or 

Thou 

Or 
Thou 

Or 

Thou 

Or 



TO A DROP OP WATER 

hast trickled in the veins of conquerors, 
the perspiration of a weakling's fear, 
hast fjuenched the thirst of fair maidens' 
lovely lips, 

been the salty brine of a mother's tear, 
haat been the warm sweat of the toiler's 
brow, 

white froth on the girth of a slave, 
hast been excised by a battle-ship's prow, 
dripped in some mouldy, cold grave. 



Thou hast played thy part in a summer shower. 
That moistens this good fertile earth. 

Thou hast opened the petals of fragrant flowers. 
And given foliage a grand new birth. 

Thou hast nourished with moisture the golden 
grains. 

And all fruitage so luscious and sweet, 
Thou hast shined as pearl on morning dew. 

That's an elixir to o'er wearied feet. 
Thou hast furnished power to run many mills. 

Civilization's indispensable tool. 
And sparkled in the glass of cheery red wines 

For both temperate and the fool. 

Thou hast been the part of dampness foul. 

In the dungeon of the condemned. 
Thou hast anointed the martyr's brow. 

In castles, or used for cities' walls to mend. 
Thou hast found rest in the microbe's home. 

And hast saved many a human life. 
Thou hast been a part of the mammoth seas. 

In their wave beatings — turmoil and strife. 

Thou hast lived forever — and yet forever 

You still are forever new. 
You either travel >ip in celestial skies. 

Or are a part of the destroying mildew. 
Thou hast seemed a part of a sheet of gold, 

When the sun cast its beam on the lake. 
Thou hast been the part of a crystal spring. 

Where the bathing birds daily partake. 

Thou hast been winding ribbons of gauze tur- 
quoise. 

In tributaries of a mountain stream. 
Thou hast been. the mists that beclouded our eyes. 

In Heaven's fond twilight dream. 
Thou hast traveled towards the majestic sun. 

Forming clouds of raUiant-hued flame. 
Of silvered images floating high, o'er 

Man's earthly and beloved domain. 

Thy values are varied and numerous. 

More than human tongue or pen can tell. 
Far more than one can estimate. 

Though it's just a small drop in hell. 
Thou hast dampened the songbird's musical 
throat. 

As he warbles his notes with glee. 
Thou hast helped to grow the seasoned fruits. 

That ripen on the bearing tree. 

Thou hast been a part of the honey sweet. 

Sipped from the fragrant wild flowers. 
Thou hast been the origin of the perfume. 

That's emitted from the shady bowers. 
Thou hast been part of the storm — the mighty 
shower. 

And the ocean or a peaceful stream. 
Thou hast been the magic wand of earth. 

That awakened nature's foliage dream. 

Thou hast lent thy mite in shaping the earth. 

Worn the mountains and leveled the land. 
Thou hast assisted in giving powers. 

More than humble man can understand. 
Thou hast dripped in blood from a guillotine. 

Or hast glistened in the vessels of a shrine. 
Thou hast made of a fog a natural screen. 

Or nourished gods of an ancient divine. 



Thou hast sparkled as a fetish to the gods. 

On the altar of divine sacrifice. 
Thou hast been softly sprinkled in baptismal 
— rites. 

In the hope of a future paradise. 



MISTAKES 

Let each mistake be a mile post. 
On your future road — to win — 

To help in life's ever — hard school. 
Of experience 

Make each mistake a memory marker. 
That you'll never pass again. 



X-PS 3^03 



"■*«»SS«!»S»*«~ 



onm front % ^tnt d ^ttimi | 



Published Now and Then 



COPYRIGHT 1927 BY BERTON BELLIS 

4543 Newberry Terrare 
ST. LOUIS. MISSOUEI 



The Classic Press 



I AM MUSIC 

(Dedicated to Columbia Univenity) 

I am the sons ot the universe. 
I am the gurgle o( the sparkling, silvery brook- 
let, the monotone of falling waters of the 
mountain stream, the dance of the rain on 
the lonely cabin roof. 
I am the patter of children's bare feet on a city 
street that offsets the dull clamor of busy 
commerce. 
I am the harmonies of the earth and celestial 

bodies. 
I am the voice of the reasoning power of the 

eternal love of God. 
I am the unspoken, unarticulated voice of love. 
I am the siren of the universe. 
I am the spirit that breathed the happiness of 

the universe into existence. 
I am the wooing voice that brings peace and 

order out of wreckage and chaos. 
I inspired the Songs of Solomon and Psalms of 

David. 
I am the wordless, winning voice of the Almighty, 

the eternal God. 
I am the paradise of deep love in human feelings 

and emotions. 
I both inflame and soothe. 

I furnish comfort to the aged who have lost a 
life's mate — and bring sweet dreams of yes- 
teryear and childhood. 
I lull restless babies to sleep and excite war- 
riors to battle. 
I soothe the vanquished in defeat and cheer the 

victor in success. 
I congratulate the proud parent at the birth of a 
child and soothe him when one has passed 
to the Great Beyond. 
I was the inspiring notes from the harp of old, 
blind Homer, and aided him in composing his 
immortal verse. 
I deeply touch the world with shame for the 
way they have treated past great masters 
such as Mozart in the garret and others. 
I furnished cheer and comfort to the bard Dante 

in his miserable exile. 
I utilize the crude harp of the child, the coarse 
bagpipe of the Scotch Highlander, and the 
magic flute of the hillside shepherds. 
I melt audiences to tears through lovely lips and 

with drum and fife I scale the Alps. 
I am purity — truth — wholesomeness and you 
when your heart is true and your soul is 
merry. 
I am the promoter of art and enlightenment. 
I am the kind words of admonition from a loving 

father to his son. 
I am the thoughts of an artist who works only 
for the betterment of humanity — and forgets 
himself. 
I am the devoted lover speaking wooing words 

of magical Are to his soul mate. 
I am the sweetest and most enchanting chord 

that touches the human ear. 
I am the beautiful voice of love that a mother 

sings to her bal>e. 
I am that hypnotic — something — that man can 
feel but cannot see, and I am free by the 
grace of God to both king and peasant. 
I am the tamer of wild beasta and soother of 

the savage breast. 
I am the inspiration of the human soul that 
radiates from the stringed instrument of pan, 
by lovers of beauty and mankind. 
I am the human soul in action and in tune with 

the Omnipotent Infinite. 
I am the chimes of the combined merry laughter 

of children, 
I am the bitterness and salt in a maiden's tear, 
or illuminating sunbeams of her soul in her 
laughter, that rings with love. 



I deeply touch the heart and soul and am deeply 
felt by both friend or foe. 

I am the song of the poet interpreted into the 
songs of ages. 

I am poetry in harmony with God and the in- 
spiration of the infinite universe. 

I am the Heavenly chords that enchants and en- 
trances the human soul. 

I am the euphonious chords whispering through 
the summer zephyrs in the unpruned, nat- 
ural wildwoods. 

I am the charming fascinator of the happiness 
and inner deep feelings of nature's expres- 
sion. *^ 

I furnish music at the awakening hour in the 
song of the robin from the heavens and echo 
the voice of paradise at eventide in the super 
strains of the nightingale. 

I supply your good-night anthem in the nightly 
carol of the grasshopper. 

I am the sweet lullaby at the cradle and the hymn 
of God s eternal peace at the grave. 
I AM MUSIC 



THE CALL OP A SOUL 
An Aiuwer to "Some Time." 



My heart seems withered in sorrow. 
The hours are lonesome and blue, 
I dread the expected tomorrow. 
You don't know how I miss you. 
All the world seems bleak and barren. 
Since the day we two had to part. 
Even songbirds to me sing no gladness. 
You are craved by a true broken heart. 

Sunshine to me seems darkened. 
The stars they twinkle no more. 
All nature seems only to haunt me. 
Since my happiest days seem o'er. 
At evening I gaze up to heaven. 
And pick out the brightest star. 
Just stunned as I dream and wonder. 
Of my own who from me is afar. 

The sorrow of mourning the living. 
Is far worse than grieving the dead. 
Thank God, that you are forgiving. 
My heart's smothered in misery and dread. 
Miserable hours are now my companions. 
My conscience now knows I was wrong, 
I have found the falsehood of others. 
Missed life's rarest and sweetest song. 

All my thoughts seem dark and dreary, 

I feel this lonesome despair. 

There's none to replace my dearie. 

For others I cannot care. 

I'm starved for the sunshine you gave me. 

Hungry for the happiness of the past. 

Life seems just cold and barren, 

I cannot forget to the last. 

It seems you are ever before me, 
I know not such a thing as rest. 
Each moment I want you only. 
Love's fire has kindled my breast. 
I know not the joy of laughter. 
Flaming passions have smouldered away. 
All life seems dead — though living. 
My soul seems burning today. 

My thorned heart is bleeding and aching. 

Too much for a human to bear. 

My soul la forever seeking, 

And calling you moat everywhere. 

What a fool I wag to grow angry. 

What a price I had to pay, 

I have felt the sting of the glitter. 

And the horror of true love's decay. 



X-PS 35Q3 



-^ 






Published Now and Then 



COPYRIGHT 1927 BY BEHTON BELLIS 

454S Newberry Terrace 
ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI 



The Classic Press 



A WILDWOOD SYMPHONY 

Where toadstooU hide 'neath the cat-taik that 
border the old lagoon. 
The moor.Klow dresses the orange blosaoma in 
silvery glitter, while they perfume. 
Hawthorn flowers incense the wonder skiea where 
birds lavish their plume, 
'Neath the brush hides the ballfrogs where the 
insect meets his doom. 
Bowed grasses pearled with honey dew look like 
glittering gems, 
Sparkling as soft zephyrs dance and carve their 
easy bending stems. 
Hid-summer breezes whistle an old love song 
through the poplar tree. 
While old wagon wheels creak and bring back 
old memories to me. 

Where the mockingbirds are singinic and the mea- 
dow lark answers back. 
Ivy vines are now hiding our old cabin shack. 
Ad oriole is calling to his mate the last notes 
before the night. 
While an old sleepy owl sentinels from an old 
bare limb, so all will be right. 
Where flery clouds seem blazing in the arial gar- 
den of the gods. 
And the heavens seem a crystal sphere at 
which the old oak nods. 
Where the humming of the brooklet and gentle 
laughter of the rill. 
Keep time v.ith falling waters o'er the cascade 
on the hill. 

Where the male bird sings a love song and his 
mate answers with a note. 
Songs more beautiful than humble man ever 
wrote. 
Where hard working ants drag little sticks and 
hornets torment the bees. 
Where bears hunt wild honey hidden in the 
trunks of hollow trees. 
A hound dog brays from gome distant hill as he 
trees a coon somewhere. 
Or some wildcat snarls back and bristles up his 
hair. 
Where the woodchuck digs a home and the rabbit 
tries to hide, 
And weeping willows dip and kiss the living 
waters at their side. 

Wild birds now sing in the green where mighty 
empires stood, now dust beneath our feet. 
Where pomp and glory reined, now age sounds 
her echoes of decayed defeat. 
Man's marble monuments blow away in dust 
while God builds mountains that grow. 
Nature's will is like the sunshine and man's 
like the melting snow. 
Man murmers a soliloquy to himself in burning 
ecstasy of the wild, 
After all gieat civilizations to nature are as 
a child. 
Man can but a picture paint or poem write, 
while God improves eternity. 
Then closes His day with dream twilights in a 
sparkling velvet canopy. 

Man hides his weepings in a heart that sighs, like 
rust hides in flowers' roots. 
But laughing spirits are soaring high in new 
found flower shoots. 
What fools have listened to the sweet words of 
the knave reaping a .Judas kiss 7 
Yet, the oldest flower of the bed would not let 
it go amiss. 
The magic influence of the enchanting lane melts 
two hearts into one. 
Where words of living passions are as flames 
of electric .sun. 



Love like burning lava cremates flowers into 
incenie divine. 
Invigorating human veins, intoxicating souls 
into heartbeau of cheerful rhyme. 

Every living soul has a yonder star ao the sky- 

lark sings. 
And all is fair until cupid runs amiss and 

tangles up the strings. 
Then like the crazy wasp stinging everything it 

Creating havock in the hives of the harvest 
honey bees. 
What is an empire to nature when time takes a 
notion all things to recall? 
All creation is so vast man knows little at all 
Lies are like icy arrows poisoning happiness in 
a terrible stinging death. 
Like the frost killing summer's flowers in a 
frigid cold dead breath. 
Who knows but that a worm is happier than the 
most powerful king 7 
Who can say what microbes mate in a wedding 
ring? * 



IN THE LAND OF GOLDEN DREAMS 

The wealth of happiness stirs my blood. 

Beauty enriches my soul. 
My pulse quickens at the jeweled thought. 

Where contentment is my goal. 
Let others throw embittered ink. 

To sizzle and flame with hate. 
Or utter a satiric phrase. 

But to my thoughts give a healthy state. 

Hours in the land of golden dreams. 
Sailing on nature's true highway. 
Let your thoughts glisten gleams, 

While sunbeams dance in the fray 
A soul can drift on the best of life, 
■»,!:'•',''* i'?''',"Y°'"* ™ gurgling currents. 
While birds bathe on the brooklet's fringe 
Wrong thoughts are only truants. " ' 

Purest passion's heat will warm your soul 
To natural instincts that are tender- 
When one makes happiness a goal. 
Troubles vanish like a dying ember. 

Y^, golden dreams of the parts of life. 

Enchants a soul so bewitching, 
That radiates friendship for everyone. 

And goodfellowship is most enriching. 
^°i,?L 'i™*^' '*''* * ''■''' '" golden dream's, 

-Vhether you be crowned king or toiling peasant. 
nor what is life without happiest content. 

And making others' moments most pleasant? 



A DREAMER 



I'™ a dreamer and gladly admit it, 

And love life's songs and flowers and bees. 
I m lazy and dream by the roadside. 

Near dancing shadows, beneath lovely trees 
I m a gypsy and very proud of it. 

And roam in the big open spaces. 
Just a vagabond that glories in travel 

And in viewing new and strange faces. 

I'm a rolling stone that keeps on rolling 

Down mountains and through valleys and glen 
And sleep near the lullabies of nature 

T'vt". w'"i"? -',"."? ^' '"'d by real men. 
Ive a hatred of whistles for labor. 

Just instruments invented by man 
To enslave human labor for gold's luster, 

And not created by God in His plan 



■J 



X-PS 3503 



^titd ^0atts fom i\\t ^txx xA '|3a*tmt pi>llt5 



COPYRIGHT 1927 BY BERTON BELLIS 



Published Now and Then 



4543 Newberry Terraca 
ST. LOUIS. MISSOURI 



The Classic Press 



THE SONG OF THE ARCHAEOLOGIST 

Soiif?a of the ages — songs of the universe — songs 
of eternity. 
The archaeologist works and sings with the 
drifting, golden sanda of time. 
Books of earth strata — books of parchment — 
books of paprus — books of baked clay. 
Digging — heaving — studying man's good and 
self-made ages of crime. 

Vatilts of the mighty — graves of the weak — dust 
of slumbering humanity, 
Speaks to ua from the shadows in the depths 
of ancient care, 
Eternal love — everlasting hate — human poison — 
human brotherhood, 
All are under man'a control when he wants to 
be fair. 
Running waters — living verdure — perfumed flow- 
ers — ripened fruits, 
All grace the earth and give the human food, 
drink and rest. 
Youth of generations — knowledge of ages — in- 
telligence inherited, 
AH stimulate mankind as falls the hazy cur- 
tain of the past. 

Peacock thrones — lion stalls — crocodile ponds — 
vats of boiling oil. 
Decorating the courts of ancient power hungry 
man. 
Marble statutes — mud gods — broken and forgotten 
idola — pottery, 
All breathe the life of some ancient and buried 
clan. 

Slave chains — handcuffs — dancinsf girls' tambour- 
ines — harem eunuchs' whips. 
Passions, lust and fire quenched 'neath the 
ruins of today. 
Musk, sandalwood — frankencaae — holy incense. 
Perfume rises again when the sun warms the 
long dead clay. 
Christian — Mohammedist — Buddist — Zarosterist — 
Jew, 
All trod the way of life and each helped to 
till the sod, 
Cacausian — Arab— Tartar — Negro — Mongolian, 
All visioned, worshipped and through their 
creeds understood their God. 

War dancing — spirit dancing — dancing girls for 
mighty Pharoahs, 
Rhythm of graceful movements where souls of 
red blood burned. 
Lions — jackals — lizards — crocodiles — cobras — spi- 
ders — tarantulas. 
Now keep silent watch o'er the ruins that 
creeping time has earned. 
Philosophers — prophets — scientists — inventors — 
educators. 
Worming into knowledge and , registering the 
facta. 
Painters — poeta — pontiffs — warriors — statesmen — 
rulers. 
Pass in moving episodes of history as we scent 
and follow their tracks. 
Slaves — soldiers — peasants — serfs — savages — bar- 
barians. 
All pass in view as their living history speaks 
anew, 
Ra — Path — Troth — Pan — Apollo — ^Veniia — Herculea 
--Thor, 
Heathen priests lived in luxury as keepers of 
the idola and the gods. 

Babylon — Ur — Memphis — ^Troy — Carthage — Damas- 
cus—Samarkand, 
We bridge the gap of knowledge between yes- 
terday and tomorrow, 



Gladiators' bladea and shields — Knights' chains 
and armour — my ladle's handkerchief. 
All are web covered in the mould of historic 
sorrow. 

Guillotines — blood stained arena sands — head 
chopping axes — human torch stakes. 
Hidden rrsmances and tortures that racked the 
body and maddened the brain. 
Splendor — pomj) — display — hunger — poverty — su- 
perstition — black art. 
Cunning — treachery — intrigues — brought the op- 
pressed masses pain. 
Egotism — despotism — cruel ambition — tyranny — 
dictators — hirelings, 
Mephistophole's mask of deceit mocka the vir- 
gin's sweetest smile. 
Dynasties — religious bigotry — crafty heathen 
monks — political scorpions, 
Poisoned men's brains for each step and as- 
sassinated knowledge with bile. 

Funeral pyres — racks — pillories — bone breaking 
wheels — thumb screws. 
Torturing the learned, honest, intelligent, 
truthful thinkers of the land. 
Truth — reason — light — facts — toleration — knowl- 
edge — culture. 
Retarded by the crafty — stem rulers and 
heathen priests* command. 
Display— hunger— poverty — passions — curses — 
pestilence — disease — filth. 

Fooled multitudes and the rabble milled into 
murder mobs- 
Mummies — bronze statutes — paintings — carvings — 
engraved poems. 
All repeat the wail of the oppressed and echo 
anguished sobs. 
Temples — sarcophagi — ems — imager — jeweled 
strong boxes — furniture. 
Covered with deaert sands where birds never, 
never sing. 
Gravel — glacial deposits — corrosion — dry ocean 
beda — eternal overgrow. 
Knitting a vale of interest aa each year comes 
back to spring. 

Pyramids — sunken baths — Indian mounds — altars 
— sacrifice blocks. 
Zasher's tomb and records of th^ ancient ar- 
chitect god Imhotep, 
Ice — snow — oceans — deserts — date palms — northern 
pines. 
Men's minds are perfumed by men's knowledge 
gathered in each forward step. 

Ravens — eagles — hawks — vuItiTrea — buzzards — fal- 
cons, 
Man travels back past the guide posts of an- 
cient time, 
Greed — lust — jealousy — contempt — robbery — brib- 
ery — a r so n — m u rder. 
Hate has baptised man's happiness all along 
the living human line. 
Green pastures — ermine capped mountains — silver- 
purple clouds — jagged trees. 
Twilight songs of the star spangled desert 
night winds. 
Sand dunea — guUeys — barren rocks — oasia — flow- 
ers, 
Singing the hymn of ages as the universe a 
cycle bends. 

Brownish golden sands — creeping to eternity — ■ 
waters always traveling. 
Yellow-gray cliffs of rock where remains are 
held fast. 
Fossil shadows — mastedons' bones — sunken great- 
ness — eraced animal glory. 
Worlds eternally drifting into the fathomlesa 
future from out the past. 



X-PS 3503 



^tkd ^§utmts frmiT tlj^ l^m of ^a*tot ^^Ilis 



COPYRIGHT 1927 BY BERTON BELLIS 



Published Now and Then 



4543 Newberry Terrace 
ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI 



The Classic Press 



AND SHB— CALLED HDC— HER FOOL 

He followed her footstepa* 

He bathed in her smile* 
He worshiped her graces, 

And lavished her in style. 
He sans sweet love sont^s. 

And showered her with praise. 
He drank deep of her eyes, 

And dreamed of new days — 
And she — called him — her fooL 

He thought life all sunshine. 

And golden her voice, 
He gloried in her tresses. 

And felt her — his choice. 
He walked in the moonlight. 

And sang from his heart. 
He was real and romantic. 

In love's honest art — 
And she — called him — her fool. 

He drank deep of love's nectar. 

And pressed perfume from the rose. 
He was torn on hate's thorns. 

And love's passions arose. 
He forgot his good senses, 

And fell a willing slave. 
His — will — had sunken. 

In a deep living grave. 
And she — called him — her fooL 

Like all fools since the ag^. 

Began long, long ago. 
He understood — not women — 

But worshiped — a show — 
A fool and a vampire. 

Played the game of life. 
He dreamed — that he — could make poison, 

A sweet charming wife — 
And she — called him — her fool. 

When love's fire burned lowly. 

And she found new game. 
Then the fool fell in the mire. 

Where staggers the dregs of love's slain. 
He fell to the bottom. 

Of hell's lowest pit. 
And she mocked him — and scoffed him — 

And sneered — while she'd— spit — ■ 
And she — called him — her fool. 

(Dedicated to a Copper-Head). 



DOWN ON THE MOOR 



As I stood on the wastes of the nether moor ; 

And gazed at the surging sea ; 
And looked into the cobalt of the vast beyond ; 

Bewildered — and yet my soul— care free. 
As I ]j:azed across the waters afoam ; 

Bright twilight played and enchanted the sky ; 
While warm soft breezes invigorated my frame; 

Nature dazzled vny much becharmed eye. 

On the shaded hills, now emerald green ; 

Flowers scented the cool evening air ; 
While songbirds warbled their soft lullabies; 

To their young ones safe nestling there. 
The roses were peeping foretelling of spring; 

Flocks of birds had winged their flight home; 
Bright stars had begun the horizon to fleck ; 

Making footprints on heaven's blue dome. 

All life and living is a beautiful dream ; 

Each sphere has its unique delight; 
I come — I am here — and whenever I go — 

God's gifts will my evils requite. 
I am content with a God to create such love ; 

Such beauties — and wonderous charm ; 
And know when my soul leaves this sphere; 

I'll never know the meaning of harm. 



PHANTOM SHIPS IN TWILIGHT SEAS 

Like in the days of old when pirates bold roamed 
o'er the white capped seas. 
Floating clouds o'er head, like ships from ages 
agone, sailing before the breeze. 
Blazing 'neath the twilight sun like phantom 
ships of bygone days. 
Some were scuttled and met Davy Jones and 
others found new plunderlust frays. 
Rolling thunders echoed like the cannon's roar 
in the horizon's saffron space, 
Lightning belched flames from the cannon's 
mouth in aurora's fighting chase. 
Stars blazed like shrapnel fire-balls shot at some 
lirized argosy. 
In a broadside from a black flaged wolf on the 
hungry howling sea. 

Sea gulls sailing in the rainbow purple-blue-gold, 
seemed like bombs nf lead. 
While a parrot cursed the captain's commands 
turning the azure-blue to red. 
The sun looked like a flery cannon ball shot in 
the golden west. 
The moon followed on like a parting shot at 
the frigate's armored crest, 
Salt breezes moulded upturned hats, rolling 
boots and blood chilling steel. 
Or a pilot drunk with East Indian wines stag- 
gered at the wheel. 
You could smell the musk and incense burn as 
ships smouldered in the deep. 
While tear-pearls fell like drops of rain from 
a maiden's mournful weep. 

Galleys of sweating slaves on the Mediterranean 
sea off Algers or Tripoli, 
Or galleons near Hellenic coasts, or on an 
Italian enchanting sea. 
Where gorgeous vessels dipped their sails in the 
cobalt starlight blue. 
Ghost ships sailing with their canvass spread 
before the j^ales that blew. 
Strong chests of bronze, iron and oak, o'er heavy 
anchors a-weigh. 
Pirate demons unfurled their sails and gambled 
for women in the bay. 
Booty of gold and silver bouillon, .slaves and 
spice from the blood drenched coasts. 
King or chief held in ransome's bondage by 
mocking scoffing hosts. 

Scorching winds from the inferno's bowles tanned 
the faces of the lot. 
Fiends of the raging elements and souls that 
even God forgot. 
Priest or pilgrim, princess or slave, walked the 
plank to a watery ^rave. 
Christian, Jew, or Mohammedan, met eternity 
beneath the wave. 
Savage breasts and angels' souls, in the devil's 
r-frip above the yawning foam. 
Cursing, drunken laughter, screeching yells, or 
prayers loarned at home. 
Silence, hissing shouts, bleeding human forms 
thrown o'er the bow. 
Quivering flesh and hearts torn out — seemed 
to call for cheers — somehow. 

Cat-o-nine-tails red-striped the virgin's back while 

brutes laughed at her snow white form. 
Then molten burning lead, like beads of red, 

broke loose in heaven's storm. 
'Twas a volcanic shower belched from a seething 

lake of everlasting fire. 
The elements had won the fight against man's 

greed and savage beastly desire — 
Then the phantom ships disappeared in the hazy 

mists of ages in their fii;;ht. 
And the moon once more, rose hir?h o'er head, 

and :^miled at a dreamer's doiight. 



X-PS 3503 



"^*5-!-errt- 



^tkd P^^ms ixmn % l^m of ^^rtmt ^^Ilts 



COPYRIGHT 1927 BY BERTON BELLIS 



Published Now and Then 



4548 Newberry Terrace 
ST. LOtJIS» MISSOURI 



The Classic Press 



NATURE KNOWS NO SHROUD 

Beautiful cherry blossoms grow and draw life 
from the grave of earth. 
For there is no iioil bat haa had life — death — 
and rebirth. 
ScoldinfiT robins dresa the plum tree's hair — or 
linnets sin^ in wild-land's glory, 
A lonesome soul's aching pain turns to hopeful 
love in life's ever chan^ng story. 
Wild canaries miss the hawk's swift death by 
hidinsT in the goldenrod. 
As an eagle talon's a rattlesnake— blended in 
the sod. 
Lakes of Are seem burning in cloudland skies of 
sunset's glittering gold. 
Where our old cares take counsel of the wise 
and bum dead and cold. 

O'er the hill's green breast a beautiful butterfly 
snubs a shaggy moth, 
While wood-fringe against yonder sky looks 
like old brown laced cloth. 
Yoa can hear fiddlers of rubbing branches 
resined by the bleeding pine. 
While dancing leaves swing partners and all 
nature is in rhyme. 
What angels dropped the moonstones that bead 
the morning dew 7 
This earth hatf been a graveyard — ^yet — has bom 
life forever new. 
Where aurora, goddess of the wonder twilight, 
dreams in heaven's azure blue. 
Which stuns a bouI with beauty's bewitching 
art — showing God Is forever true. 

Dampness corrodes foul weedllngs growing fra- 
grant roses in their place. 
Breathing perfume, and loveliness to blush on 
the earth's wrinkled face. 
Where peach blow looks like some ancient mystic 
Chinese porcelain, 
Dng up from the ages of the past and breathes 
an incensed poppy dream. 
Green shooting sprouts push snails aside and 
bow to the summer's breeze. 
Near timid ferns where crickets hide in cool 
shadows of stately trees. 
Beautiful red and bluebirds alternate flying across 
an emerald lane. 
Or a mournful raincrow throats a note that 
makes one think of rain. 

Redheaded woodpeckers trip-hammer a worm- 
eaten tree standing in the wood. 
While swallows fly o'er cane-brake where a 
flirting sunflower stood. 
Wild geese fly in earth shading flocks flying to- 
ward northern summer skies. 
O'er lavender flowers in evening's afterglow in 
blooms beyond a prize. 
Floating dust of past human hearts rides with 
honey pollen in the breeze. 
Enlivened anew by singing birds and buzzing 
honey bees. 
Living, stunning, royal beauty, robes all creation, 
for — nature knows no shroud, 
Only man and litle things feel an impulse that's 
lowly and proad. 

One season's fruits are next year's flowera — so 
with all living things. 
Fall's fading blossoms arise after melted snows 
and gladdens early springs. 
The dark portals of earth's velvet night are 
brilliantly shining on the other side. 
So as in life^there is no death — as o'er eter- 
nity's highway we ride. 
Living shade timbers are later a mansion's walls, 
wanning those of the human kind. 



Passing along as a generation in the chain of 
life — a spark blown by our great God's 
mind. 
The lazy moon rolls from a distant hill and hangs 
on the branch of some naked tree. 
While wild, sweet singing birds sing songs of 
love — God's messages, throaghout eternity. 



LIVING GOLD 



The white swan brings her broodings o'er the 
green padded lily pond, 
While green and purple throated blackbirds 
scold from some naked tree beyond. 
Mockingbirds look into the brown-gray dusk and 
sing from the mead. 
While soft winds carry thistle-down and bright 
velvet from the reed. 
Where waltzing bugs dance and glide o'er silvery 
waters of the spring. 
Or frogs leap in and ripples float to green moss 
banks in a crystal ring. 

The trees wear burnished locks and crowns of 
glittering, living gold. 
And dew drops, like pearls on a string, fall in 
a jeweled fold. 
The crescent moon dips up the stars and spills 
meteors o'er the earth. 
While dream clouds float silently weeping and 
giving meadows a glad rebirth. 
Where the crafty spider pursues the fly and the 
bald hornet takes his part. 
Stinging, struggling, flghting, tearing web 
threads and spearing to the heart. 
Where sunsets reflect the colors of wild flowers 
to mankind. 
Telling all creation before the night that God 
has a purposeful mind. 
Where grasshoppers carol an evening song and 
scold earth worms who are hid, 
'Neath the carpet mass where dancing shadows 
are from sunbeams rid. 
Where the velvet night spreads Its purple portals 
o'er the azure sky. 
And then some sweet wren to her young sings 
a wildland lullaby. 

Where the moon's silver disk Is spanned across 
the starlight night. 
In eternities chase of the sun and moon in 
peaceful delight. 
What human soul seeing and feeling the beauties 
of the universe, 
Fears death's glorious adventure that ends not 
with the hearse 7 
The sun has thawed the hills and flowers open to 
the bees. 
The swan's swimming pond looks like a looking- 
glass hidden 'neath soughing trees. 
The oriole is lyrically singing while a snail peeps 
from his armored shell. 
While some caterpiller has wreathed and spun 
a thread o'er a floral bell. 
The sun has gilded a path o'er the moon's silvered 
highway. 
While stars like sparkling diamonds enrich the 
dome after a happy day. 

Foolish moths hurl themselves against the per- 
fumed zephyrs of the night. 
Where locust and magnolia bloom scent the 
cool air with delight. 
Where a wild call from some silver wolf seems a 
dirge of a dying, changing soul. 
Or winds rock the blue-bells and the elements 
ring a natural toll. 
Where bloerling-hearts dip perfume o'er the ones 
who crush them down. 
Baptizing sweet fragrance to grace the careless 
fool, or, clown. 



I 




.-.i-W 



PS 3503 



oflHWqW ^iyO^I^ I J I HH IW 



.-^DVDIi^MT 109T RV RRRTON BELt-lS 



Published Now and Then 



COPYRIGHT 1927 BY BEHTON BKLL19 

4&4S N«wbtnT Terrace 
ST. L0UI3, MISSOUBI 



The Classic Press 



PEACEFUL VALLEY 

Breezes carry the wine fragrance of the wild 
throughout eternity. 
While rivulets with chan^ng shades bowknot 
the land. 
Stormbirda chatter in the old catalpa tree making 
umbrellas of the leaves. 
While the busy ant drags tiny timbers and 
countless grains of sand ; 
The oriole builds a nest of twigs looking like a 
bullet in some tree. 
While fireflies weave golden lights in the velvet 
tapestry that's coming o'er the green. 
Drunken zephyrs stagger o'er the grasses laidened 
with the perfumed honey dew. 
On hills that slumber each year then rerobe in 
another brilliant scene. 

Nature's wealth of eternal glory is celebrated by 
the star fires of the universe. 
While little man's brain tries to drink in what 
such wonders mean, 
Birds of the wild sing the chorus of the ages 
'round an old oak tree. 
While winter's naked branches shadow iron 
bars across the woodland floor like a prison 
dream. 
Scarlet flaming purple down and emerald-topa* 
evening skies dazzle the brain, 
While tear pearls bead the grasses in the dew 
of earthly dawn, 
Billowy autumn clouds make rain while leaves 
dance up to the sky, 
A feast in this natural gallery of fine arts is a 
glory to look upon. 

Sparrows quarreling o*er worms and darting 

shadows dance in rhythm. 
Where the lightning and verdure purified air 

floats on and on, 
The morning star greets the universe with a wink 

o'er the main, 
While the evening stars go to sleep in nature's 

phenomenon. 
Birds hurdle small branches in the old naked, 

dead, worm eaten tree. 
While wild fowl span the light wind o'er the 

river banks of green. 
Rotting old logs act as silent watchmen o er the 

snakefeeder and darting butterfly. 
While wild game sip pure waters and rest and 

bask and dream. 

There is no death where all is life as matter and 
force simply change. 
Living summer's breezes sigh through the hem- 
lock and laugh with the blushing of the 
rose. 
Nature recloaks throughout eternity in the same 
garments restyled, 
Man can meet God in the open and nature her 
laws will disclose. 
All life refreshes and reforms in the paradise of 
endless time. 
Life will live — yet, life must pay aa nature 
demands her toll. 
First comes the sunlight, then shadows, then 
light again upon endless forms, 
Aa in all skies is the watchful hawk bent upon 
destroying the singing soul. 

Lovely women like the flowers break their heart 

and bleed upon the thorn. 
Then think what a pauper Croesus was in the 

natural gardens of the eternal God. 
Butterflies break their wings riding against the 

heavy storm. 
Like humble man's nature of envious greed as 

he struts hi« slave kept sod. 
The smiling sun cheered the universe with a 

peep o'er the edge of Heaven's blue, 



While enchanting, sweet notes are rolling down 
the ages in the voice of the bird. 
Wild music from the wind played timbers or the 
happy monotone nf the waterfall, 

In the stimulating magic of wonderous joy 
that cannot be told by word. 

Where the depths of the human soul seem arte- 
sian wells of joy and love. 
Where cobalt and saffron burn in skies of end- 
less blue, 
Gypsy twilights sow golden beams on floating 
clouds each shaping some ancient god. 
Why should man worry about empty care when 
all life can be true? 
Each grain of sand upon the earth has lived in 
some former time, 
For there ia a battle of all living things from 
the Heavens down to the mire. 
The soul of beauty is the grace of God that 
bewilders small thinking men. 
Even the sweetest passions sometimes smoulder 
long then burst again in fire. 

The breathing of the universe is wide and man 
knows not its end. 
One breath of nature is an eternity to man and 
all living things. 
The smiling moon has disked across the centuries 
until our time of today. 
Like the rose on the desert surrounded by the 
fireflies of the springs ; 
Soft breezes always pipe the river-reed and upon 
the weeping willows sigh. 
The eagle cuts the air and meets its shadow 
upon the mountain peak. 
The brown disappearing pheasant drums the air 
then sails motionless away, 
While the crouching panther climbs on high 
for unsuspecting forage to seek. 

Yonder woodland is a city where birds sing, love 
and play. 
In the symphony of the wildwood near a chorus 
of waters on a mountain side. 
Winds blow down the canyons like a trumpet of 
the ages. 
Causing the rumbling, cracking, creaking, and 
breaking of the timber down a slide. 
Lazy winds drink up the dew and intoxicate 
like exhilarative wine. 
Awakening the hidden instincts of man like a 
new dream from the popy seed. 
O, nature can invigorate and cause happiness or 
poison with the vine. 
Where thorns tear and thistles pierce or flowers 
perfume aa they bleed. 



ETERNAL LOVE 



Through countless ages, through all time, 
I'll be yours, and you'll be mine ; 
Two souls with but a single thought. 
Two mates together brought; 
Awakened by love kindled bright. 
Each to each other a shining light. 

When alone, just lost and sad. 

He misses her, and she her lad ; 

AH future days we are no more two. 

For you are me, and I am you ; 

With burning hearts so kind and true. 

To please, to help, and good things do. 

Good tidings I send, a wealth of love, 

I swear I'm yours. To Him Above, 

For such blessings as you have in store. 

Shall receive love in return forever more» 

And pvery day a blessing true. 

May God so grant. I'll give to you. 



\. . 



X-PS 3505 




What People Say: 



"The doors of the Bates School, St. Louis, 
Mo., are always open to America's greatest 
living poet — Berton Boliii?." — From an address 
of the Principal, Mr. Dickey. 

* *■ ♦ • 

"I am sure your writings wiU always be 
of universal inspiration for the people." — ■ 
Professor Dr. Cornelius Rybner, f. Head of 
the Department of Music, Columbia University. 

"While I am not an expert judire of poetry, 
I can at least agree with many of ■ your 
thoughts. War certainly makes a dismal pic- 
ture." — ^William Jennings Bryan. 

Poem "Andrew Carnegie." I shall show a 
copy of these verses to Mr. Carnegie.'*— Henry 
S. Pritchett, President, The Carnegie Founda- 
tion For The Advancement of Teaching. 

» * # * 

Poem "College." "I am glad to have the 
opportunity of seeing It."^ — John G. Hibben, 
President, Princeton University. 

"You show a keen insight into the heart of 
a child and a keen appreciation of their view 
point of life." — A. C. Strange, Supt, Public 

techools. Baker, Orfegon. 

* + * ^ 

"Your poems were read at two cemeteries 
around Washington, Memorial Day. The Con- 
federates had their re-union here — National — 
and I gave several of the poems and the 
parties appreciated it."— Asst. Adjt. Gen. O. 
H. Oldroyd. G. A. R. 

* * * * 

"I have read your poem which appears to 
me to be very much worth while. I am today 
referring it to the Liberty Loan Committee. 
Glad to be of service to you." — Champ Clark, 
Speaker, House of Representatives, Washing- 
ton, D, C— Poem, "THE VICTORY LOAN." 

* * * * 

"My fellow teachers shall enjoy them. You 
may be assured that they will leave joy in 
the heart of every reader."— L. E. Eggersen, 
Supt. Public Schools, Prove, Utah. 

"I thank you very much in sending your 
noble and generous poem. It is highly inspir- 
ing in thought and your thoughts are deep 
and elevated. I have been very happy i n 
reading it, and take great pleasure in congra- 
tulating you." — Joseph Barthelmy, Profe-saor 
of law at the University of Paris and at the 
School of Political Science. Member of the 

Chamber of Deputies, Paris, France. 

* * * * 

"Farewell Of The Blue And The Gray." 
"Have read it with much interest and your 
sentiments indorsed by all the Old Boys in 
the Georgia Soldiers' Home, Please accept 
thanks from The Old Confederate Veterans of 
Georgia." -* * ♦ ♦ 

■"One never knows what genius is alongside 
them until it bursts out in all its splendor." 
Joseph A. Rose, Department of Commerce, San 
Juan, P. R. Light House Service. 

* * * * 

"1 congratulate you upon the success you 
have achieved." — H. J. Allen, Governor of 
Kansas. * * * » 

"As a friend and associate of President Wil- 
son, I am deeply moved by your tender tribute 
to him, and your fine understanding of his 
pui*poseB and aims." — Former Secretary of 
War, Newton D. Baker, 



"I hasten to thank you for the poems which 
you have composed about me with exquisite 
amiability. I am touched by your benevolent 
sentiments towards me, I see in them praise 
addressed to our people and that especially it 
is which above all gives it value in my sight* 
I eagerly seize this opportunity to transmit 
to you my expression of the profound .grati- 
tude felt by the Belgians to the noble Ameri- 
can nation. The brotherly aid of the United 
States has naved them from famine and ser- 

vatude." — Cardinal Mercier. 

» » * * 

"To the American poet Berton Bellis. Most 
sincere congratulations from a friend of child- 
hood days who has seen you climb from a 
boy up the ladder of great success as a poet of 
master skill and recognition. Fame always 
rewards such a genius. Your unselfishness 
and warm heart for the unfortunate have paid 
you beyond what gold can buy— A home in 

the hearts of men." — Mrs- C. H. Whitlow. 

**■*■» 

"Your works have, indeed, done their full 
part in stirring the blood of the patriots of 
our great country." — National Council, World 

War Vetei-ans, Charles M. Raphun, Adjt. Gen. 

» * ♦ * 

"Farewell Of The Bhie And The Gray." I 
certainly congratulate you on your poem and 
its fine wording and it is just as you say, 
"the hour is drawing near,", though far apart 
in the fiO's we are brothers and friends now. 
Shall distribute copies in our G. A. R. Posts." 
—Joseph Brooks. Post Dept. Commander, 
Headfiuarters, Baltimore, Md. 

"His Excellency finds most beautiful." — 

President Monical of Cuba. 

* * # » 

"Your verses touching as they do, upon a 
world's suffering and grief and with their fine 
Christian sentiment, reach me through the 
mails. I am glad to have them with the au- 
thor's signature. The cross has come to have 
a great, new, significance to us all." — A. H. 
Armstrong, Executive Secretary, Tlie Church 

Federation of St. Louis. 

■* * * * 

"I am President of the Adams County Mem- 
orial Association and will have one or more 
of these poems read on Memorial Day." — 
James E. Adams, Quincy. 111. 

"Your poems do wonderful things to help 
lift this sad and tired world up out of all 
sorrows onward and beyond to those heights 
of happiness."— Alexander Geddes. 

-*■*»■»■ 

"The grade teachers perused your tribute 
to the teachers with no little feeling of ap- 
preciation. "STAND BACK OF YOUR 
TEACHERS OF LEARNING" it is just that, 
which will enable them to take courage and 
more courage." — A. G. Willow, Sec'y. St. 

Louis, Mo. 

* * ♦ * 

"We congratulate you on your good work." 
— Missouri Historical Society, Jefferson Mem- 
orial, St. Louis, Mo., N. Harvey Beauregard, 
Arc. r * * * 

"T have placed these in the hands of our 
teachers of literature in the upper grades." — 
W. J. Hamilton, Supt. Public School, Oak 
Park. 111. * * ♦ * 

"While teaching school at Freeburg, III., I 
asked my pupils who was the greatest modern 
poet during the World War and what was 
their favorite poem ? They named Berton 
Bellis as the poet and 'The Poem Of Peace* as 
their favorite poem. — B. Waldo Smith. 



■) 



X- PS 3503 



COMING ON THE AIR 

By BERTON BELLIS 

Good morning, afternoon or evening 

Wherever you may be 1 
To the ladies, gentlemen and children. 

At home or across the sea. 
We send warm and cheerful greetings to all you 

folks, 
And hope as you turn the dial, 

That you tune us in and stay with us. 
While we send you happiness and a smile. 

As Radio knows no houndary lines. 

Or positions, or even a clan, ,- 

Our messages speed on and on, - ''' 

To the heart of every man. 
The entertainers of our station. 

And working staff as well, . 

All enjoy entertaining you. 

Much more than we can tell. 

To lighten your hearts and cheer your souls, 

And make life more worth while. 
To radiate gladdened heartbeats. 

And make goodfellowship the style. 
May the notes from our musical instruments. 

And human voices cheer your heart. 
So we may become lasting friends. 

Before this hour we part. 

And when our program is over. 

We'll not ask for pay. 
But it you have time, drop us a line. 

Or telegraph, and say I 
You don't know how it cheers the bunch. 

To read your warm encore. 
It's the inspiration for our crowd. 

And brines 'em back once more. . ' 

So. all of you folks just feel, '■ 

That we grasp you by the hand, 
.\nd shake old friends! 'cause, 

We're all just folks, that you can understand. 
Now listen in and we'll do our best. 

To entertain you for a while. 
And remember friend— we appreciate you, .-. 

For honest, warm friendship is our style. 






■ ''I: 



", r ' • 



X- PS 3503 



LIMITATIONS 

BY 

Louis P. Brown 



j 



COPYRIGHT 1927 
BY 
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HILDEBRAND 



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COPYRIGHT 1927 

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405 4»TH ST. PLACE. DES MOINES. IOWA 



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PS 3503 



THE WIFE OF URIAH 



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COPYRIGHT 1927 

BY 

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X- PS 3503 



CAIN 

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COPYRIGHT 1927 

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405 49TH ST. PLACE. DES MOINES. IOWA 



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Divine Among Women 



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IMPERATOR 



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Copyright 1939 

By LOUIS P. BROWN 

405 Forty-ninth Street Place 

Des Moines, Iowa 



X- PS 3503 '' ;' , 






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THURSDAY NIGHT. OCTOBER 4th 
FULTON THEATRE. WEST 46th ST. - . 



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^DEEP 
ARE THE ROOTS 

The new play by 

ARNAUD D'USSEAU & JAMES GOW 

(Authors of TOMORROW THE WORLD) 

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Staged by ELIA KAZAN ■ 

Produced by Kermit Bloomgarden & George Heller