NRLF B M 7E3 315 MY SHIP AND OTHER VERSES MY SHIP AND OTHER VERSES BY EDMUND LEAMY WITH A FOREWORD By KATHARINE TYNAN NEW YORK JOHN LANE COMPANY MCMXVII COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY JOHN LANE COMPANY Press of J. J. Little & Ives Company New York, U. S. A. ?S *> TO MY MOTHER 371651 Acknowledgment Many of the verses in this volume have already seen the light of day in the following publica tions, to the Editors of which my thanks are due for permission to re-print them : The New York Evening Sun, New York Times, New York Times Magazine, Boston Globe, New York Tribune, New York American, New York Even ing Mail, The Peoples Home Journal, The Aden (Arabia) Focus, The Uganda (Africa) Herald, The East African Standard. E. L. Apologia // that my songs are sad, Beloved, Tis but to hide The joy I know, the happiness You by my side; So that the Gods who would destroy May hear my sigh And judging love a futile thing Go heedless by. vii Foreword Edmund Leamy how the name recalls an other Edmund Leamy, the truest, simplest, finest of Irish patriots and gentlemen ! has inherited the gift of true poetry, which in his father s case found expression also in stories and oratory. There is something of the wind and the weather, of wild countries and a wild adventurous young heart, in his poems. His father s adventure was the one upon which so many have embarked, will embark the great adventure for the Dark Rosa- leen. The son s adventure carries him over oceans and continents, but he has always the faithful, the untravelled heart that belongs by right to his father s son. "And yet I see the sunset adown the Western skies And glimpse within the wonderness my mother s pleading eyes. And yet I hear the West Wind sob softly in the trees x Foreword That vainly cloaks her broken call far o er the distant seas. And still when shine the dim stars my wander-heart would go Away, and back to her dear side and dreams of long ago." There is much of youth in the poems, and won der and admiration and the spirit of adventure, and the wind in the heath makes colours and life. The genuine spirit of Romance walks through his poetry, which should be as good as a sea voyage for sedentary folk in parlours. And with the riotous enjoyment of colour and phrase and swinging metre there is, as befits his father s son, nothing that is not clean and good. KATHARINE TYNAN. CONTENTS PAGE OUTWARD BOUND 17 THE SLAVE 20 "Mr LIPS WOULD SING " ... 22 AFRICA 24 LIGHT HEART 26 MY SHIP 29 LULLABY 31 THE TREASURE SEEKERS .... 33 THE VISITOR 35 VISIONS 36 A BROKEN SONG 39 AN ARABIAN INCIDENT 41 ADEN 43 THE OLD TOWN 44 MEMORY 46 THE BALLAD OF THE HOOKAH ... 48 BROKEN IDOLS 51 OLD SONGS 53 xi CONTENTS xii PAGE A WISH 55 NIGHT IN KAMPALA 56 REVELATION 58 "I WONDER " 60 WANDERLUST 61 KAMPALA OF THE HILLS 62 THE DAISY FIELD 64 Do You? 66 A SUMMER DAY 68 EAST OF SUEZ 70 LAND Ho! 72 SPRING NIGHT 74 IN THE TOILS 75 JOY o LIFE 78 Music MAGIC 79 DREAMS 82 AN INVITATION 83 GETHSEMANE 86 SUNSET IN EGYPT 87 DESOLATION 9 THE NATION 91 THE ROADHOUSE 93 KINSHIP 94 A PASSING PRAYER 95 xiii CONTENTS PAGE SURCEASE 96 THE PROMISE 97 KILLOWEN 98 CASTLES IN THE AIR 100 THE HEALER 101 DINNY S BOY 103 PORT SAID 105 ENSLAVED 107 ON BLEECKER STREET no HAPPY is HE 112 EDEN 113 THE JOURNEY 114 "WANDERER, WANDERER, WHY Do You STAND 116 THE LURE 117 OLD LOVE LETTERS 118 "MISSING" 119 RESPITE 120 THE LAST JOURNEY 121 A QUESTION 123 RESTORATION 124 GHOSTS 125 THE SOUTHERN CROSS 129 THE MAIL-RUNNER 131 AFRICAN DAWN 133 NIGHT IN AFRICA 136 MY SHIP AND OTHER VERSES Outward Bound A good ship, and a fair wind, And a pal beside me; A brave heart, a clear sky, And a star to guide me, And a woman s kiss as talisman Whate er betide me. A YOUNG land, and an old land at the ends of the earth! (Be still, be still the heart o me that hears the olden call!) Nestling neath a golden sky beyond the seven seas The massive country whispers as the sunset shadows fall God be with the goodly ship, the whipping friendly breeze That bears me as an orphan to the faith that gave me birth. 17 Outward Bound The young faith, and the old faith, and the trust of a child. (Be still, be still the heart o me, the day is yet unborn!) Dim against the misty clouds the tall towers disappear, And oh, my soul with memories of boyhood hours is torn. A young land and an old land to the south of the line, (Be still, be still the heart o me, a truce to all your fears!) Fair, and free, and far away it lies and lures me on Yet I but go in answer to the whisper of the years; Go and leave behind me, ah, so pale it is and wan The dream I dreamed in bygone days before the world was mine. A good ship, and a fair wind, And a pal beside me; 18 Outward Bound A brave heart, a clear sky, And a star to guide me, And a woman s kiss as talisman Whateer betide me! The Slave THERE once was a lad in the long ago And he lived by the open whispering sea, And daytime found him gazing out Where the shimmering sails flashed fair and free, And night time brought him golden dreams That filled his heart with ecstasy. Each morning midst the fisher nets He heard the bronzed sea-men tell Of luring lands and silver skies And olden ships. They loved to dwell On dangers passed, to see his eyes Go wide beneath the subtle spell. He dreamed his dreams and saw them grow Dim and grim, and grey with age, . . . A city bank, behind a grille, His weary pen toiled o er the page 20 The Slave Day in, day out. His heart grew tired Behind the brass-barred grinning cage. And then it came that he had power To wander wide to other lands, To live the olden dreams once dreamed, To steer his ship for far-off strands, To greet the moonlight and the stars, And grasp the dawn within his hands. And fair the day his boat embarked, And fair the bosom of the sea, And fair the dream that sang and smiled, But in his heart no answering glee, For the years had branded him a slave And never more could he be free. 21 "My Lips Would Sing- MY lips would sing a song for you, a soulful little song for you, A plaintive little song for you, upon a sum mer s day; But for the very life of me, the merry, merry life of me, The laughter-loving life of me, I cannot but be gay. For oh, the sun is shining, Dear, and who could be repining, Dear, And who would be unhappy, Dear, when all the world is young? So I will hum a melody, a mirthful little melody, A joyous little melody that never yet was sung. And you shall hear of Fairyland, of Kings and Queens of Fairyland, 22 "My Lips Would Sing- Of men and maids of Fairyland, and Love shall be the theme, And straight before your brimming eyes, a golden glint of Paradise Shall steal, My Dear, to still your sighs, and give you back your dream. And you will taste of happiness, a tiny bit of happiness, A wistful bit of happiness, upon a summer s day; And just a little smile from you, a sunny little smile from you, A trembly little smile from you shall be a poet s pay! Africa A TEAR in the soft shy morning, A dew-drop a violet spills, As the mist comes up from the marshes To fold in his arms the hills; And the heart of a dreamer quivers And leaps with a thousand thrills. A gem in the blaze of noon-time, In the drowsy shade of the trees, A ruby bright as a diamond The eye of a maid to please, An opal of wondrous beauty And never a soul that sees. A dream in the dusky evening, As the sun sinks low in the West, And the wind comes over the palm-trees With the hint of a hidden quest, And the Southern Cross in glory Shines down on a world at rest. 24 Africa And the tear can be kissed to laughter As a woman can be caressed; And the gem can be caught and prisoned To shine on a gleaming breast; But, the dream is ever elusive And therefore the dream is best. Light Heart THERE is Springtime in the Heavens, and there s Springtime in the breeze, And the birds are singing Spring songs in the blossom-laden trees; The days are growing longer, and there s warmth in the air, And there s sweetness just in living, and there s gladness everywhere; And yet you say you re lonely, Lad, Lonely, why? Isn t the shimmering, shining sun smiling in the sky? Isn t it smiling at you in a friendly kind of way, Doesn t it look as if it wished to bid you time o day? Lonely, why, Lord love you, You re just blue! Lonely, when each living thing wants to be your friend, 26 Light Heart And God is in his Heaven; Lonely when there s love for you and kindness without end! Lonely, you re not lonely, Lad, A little blue, a little sad. Come, cheer up, Laddie; cheer up, Son, There s lots of pleasure, lots of fun, Left in the world for every one. There is Winter in the Heavens, and there s Winter in the wind, There is Winter in the tree-tops but, is Winter so unkind? The days are growing shorter, and the nights are long and cold, But, the stars they shine much brighter, and they wink and twinkle gold; And you again are lonely, Lad, Lonely, why? Isn t every snow-flake in the sullen, silent sky A little pearly tear-drop from an angel, come to bless, 27 Light Heart To lay itself against your cheek in gentle, soft caress ? Lonely, why, God bless you, You re just blue! Lonely, when the crackling frost brings glad ness to the ear, And God is in his Heaven; Lonely, when about you you can feel King Win ter near; Lonely, you re not lonely, Lad, A little blue, a little sad. Go, dry your tears, be happy, Son, There s lots of pleasure, lots of fun, Left in the world for every one! 28 My Ship MY ship is an old ship and her sails are grey and torn, And in the dim and misty night she seems a thing forlorn; Her battered sides are beetle black, her decks are scarred and old, And heavy rise the musty scents from out her crumbling hold. The young ships in the tide-way with a sneering smile sail by, And fair they flash their white sails against the sun-drenched sky, And fleet they run before the clouds that usher in a blow, But could a storm coerce my ship whene er she wished to go ! My ship is an old ship and her sails are torn and grey, 29 My Ship And she s not white and beautiful, nor fragile such as they, But she has sailed o er every sea to every land a-gleam, And on her decks make merry now the wraiths of youthful dream! Lullaby OH, honey, li l honey, come an lay yo woolly head, Upon yo mammy s bosom, play at possum bein dead, Fo a li l babe am sleepy, an it s time to go to bed, So, come, ma li l baby, ma li l lovin baby, An sleep ma li l baby, Sleepy, sleepy, sleep. Don t yo cry yo li l eyes out, sho de summer day am done, An de flowers am gone a bye-bye wit de great big yellow sun, An de stars am all a-peepin fo to ketch him on de run, But yo must sleep, ma baby, ma li l lovin baby; Ah, sleep ma li l baby, Sleepy, sleepy, sleep. 31 Lullaby Ah, hush, ma pickaninny, sho yo s mammy s li l prize, But de san man am a-comin fo to close a baby s eyes, An de angels all am creepin fro de splendour ob de skies To guard a li l baby, ma li l lovin baby; So sleep, ma li l baby, Sleepy, sleepy, sleep. The Treasure Seekers PAL o Mine, oh, Pal o Mine, or ever the dream" can die, Follow me over the shining sea, west of the sunset sky, West of the sunset sky and the moon, south of the milky way, North of the land where the dead dreams droop, east of the breaking day; Laugh again with your old-time laugh, and sing me an olden song, That we may be happy again, old man, though the arm of the sorrow be long. Slip the line, and break the sail, and whistle the friendly wind, Wind with the scent of the Southland s lips, sweeping to greet and find, Bringing us back the dreams we dreamed (We were but lads so high, 33 The Treasure Seekers You always said that they would come true, laughed when I would deny.) Bringing back to our lonely hearts, and we are now old, so old, The tales that we loved of the Spanish Main, and the lure of the buccaneer s gold. Lure of gold, and lure of lands, and lure of the Southern Sea What is the guerdon we both must pay, what is the toll to be? Never a price if down in our hearts lingers the old-time thrill, Faith of the boy in the power o dream faith that is with us still; Seeking the gold we will find the dream, and seeking the dream the gold, For that is the way that we said twould be, when we knew we could never grow old ! 34 The Visitor THE long June day we waited, a prayer in our hearts, And our voices still as a summer stream That glides through the tree-hung places In the hush of a noontime dream. The small white form that tossed on the bed in its pain . . . And the dumb-eyed mother that watched as we, Who gazed with a hopeless horror Begotten of misery. . . . And then that night, a presence, unseen, un heard To the room came gliding. . . . One an guished cry ... And a rose on the bramble withered And a star fell in the sky. 35 Visions I never watch the sun set a-down the Western skies But that within its wondernesx I see my moth ers eyes; I never hear the west wind sob softly in the trees But that there comes her broken call far o er the distant seas; And never shine the dim stars but that my heart would go Away and back to olden lands and dreams of long ago. A ROVER of the wide world, when yet my heart was young, The sea came whispering to me in well-beloved tongue, And oh! the promises she held of golden lands a-gleam 36 Visions That clung about my boy-heart and filled mine eyes with dream, And Wanderlust came luring me till neath the stars I swore That I would be a wanderer for ever, ever more. A rover of the wide world, I ve seen the North ern lights A-flashing countless colours in the knife-cold wintry nights; I ve watched the Southern Cross ablaze o er smiling, sunny lands, And seen the lazy sea caress palm-sheltered, sil ver sands; Still wild unrest is scourging me, the Wander lust of yore, And I must be a wanderer for ever, ever more. And yet, I see the sun set a-down the Western skies And glimpse within the wonderness my moth er s pleading eyes; 37 Visions And yet I hear the west wind sob softly in the trees That vainly cloak her broken call far o er the distant seas; And still when shine the dim stars my wander heart would go Away and back to her side, and dreams of long ago. A Broken Song HE was such a little song, But the April days were long, And he thought he could entwine a woman s heart; So he went his lilting way All upon a sunny day, And he laughed to see the winter cold depart. To a winsome maid he came And he gently hummed her name And his music was the wind across the sea; But her heart, alas, was stone, So he wandered back alone, And brokenly he told his tale to me. 39 A Broken Song Aye, the summer sky is blue, And the days are fair to you And me who ve seen so many sadly roll; But the whole wide world is wrong, To a little, lonely song That is sobbing, oh, so softly in my soul. 40 An Arabian Incident I MET a little Arab boy as naked as the sky That blazed in cloudless grandeur o er the street, A little chubby Arab child who passed me grave ly by, Then turned to watch me, solemnly, discreet. The stolidness of centuries was in his silent gaze, The ancient pride of kings within his blood, And he bore himself as proudly as his men of olden days, And glance for glance he gave me as we stood. Then I ventured to address him, but my Arabic was bad And he answered not at all, nor made a sign, But I felt the scorn within his eyes, a little tubby lad, The descendant of an old and honoured line. 41 An Arabian Incident And so I turned to leave him, by the incident impressed, But stopped and placed a coin upon my hand, The silent speaking language of the East and of the West, And my little kingling seemed to understand. He shuffled shyly towards me, took the shiny silver thing Then ran and hid himself behind a wall, Forgetting all the instincts that were worthy of a king A little, human youngster, after all! 42 Aden BARREN rock and rugged grandeur Rising from the sea, Mysteries of ancient people Greet the soul of me But, I see in English faces Longing for a tree. Hunger for the rolling meadows And the perfumed loam, Oft I watch them unobserved Wistfully they roam, In their eyes dumb, silent longings And a prayer for home. 43 The Old Town THE day is rife with olden dreams That deep entwine my heart To lure me back to olden loves When that I must depart, A thousand memories are born To cloud and blind these eyes That look to dim and distant lands To stars in other skies. So fair, so fair the waning flowers, The brown October trees, So sweet, so dear, the melody That ripples on the breeze; Ah, beautiful, the little town, The blue and smiling sea, The well-remembered simple things No more, no more to be. The songs the birds each morning sang As climbed the youngling sun, 44 The Old Town The silence and the peacefulness When the long day was done, And God himself a-keeping watch O er this wee Paradise But, Wanderlure is in my heart And dream is in my eyes. Ah, dream is in these eyes of mine And wander in my soul, And I must seek a thousand ways A sweet elusive goal; And I must live each luring dream Till, weary, I would rest, And learn perchance that after all The old, old dreams were best. 45 Memory WHEN I was I, and You were You, And moonlit nights were fair, The stars were dimmed before your eyes And prisoned in your hair; And every song the soft winds sang Dream-laden from the South Were but the music of your voice, The sweetness of your mouth. The secrets of the plashing waves That only dreamers hear, Were once the words that quivering You whispered in my ear; The tale you told, the dearest tale That lights a woman s eyes Who holds within her tiny hands The keys of paradise. Ah, if my dream is but a dream As dreams of mortals are, Memory And Faith be but a futile thing- The love of moth for star; Yet who may chide in jealousy As laggard Time plods by If still within my heart I hold What cannot die! 47 The Ballad of the Hookah SQUATTIN on the floor I wuz like an ero in a story, Puffin o an ookah pipe, a Sultan at me side, S welp me but I almost bust a-thinkin o the glory, Me wot never wuz a one much given unto pride. Coffee from a bronzen jug he poured with jew elled fingers Often filled the tiny cup I eld within me and, Talkin to me equal-like Lor ! ow the mem ory lingers In me art as incense angs in that there furrin land. Took the ookah from me an* e showed me ow to smoke it Pullin at it steady till there came the gurgle sound 4 8 The Ballad of the Hookah "Go it kind o gentle-like or otherwise you ll choke it!" Sez the Sultan low to me a-squattin on the ground. Once again I takes a drag an bli me I could do it! "Bubble, bubble," growled the pipe. I almost owled with joy! Smokin like an old and I, but Lor ! I came to rue it As is rued the first cigar wot s smoked by any boy. Ead a-sudden went a-swimmin an the room went reelin , Kind o hasty-like I rose an staggered to me bunk, Never ad I known before, a queerer, stranger feelin , Like as if the stars an moon, an all the world wuz drunk! Crikey! Wot an ead I ad the same I m not forgettin , 49 The Ballad of the Hookah Lasted me a week or two, or mayhap it wuz three, But, when all is said an done, I never am re- grettin The time I smoked an ookah with a Prince in Araby! Broken Idols HE was a youngster of twenty-odd years Heigh ho for the old days Never a sorrow, and never a care Lurked in his heart as he bounded up-stair Into his room with its bed and a chair Heigh ho for the old days! Laughing he was all the long summer hours Heigh ho for the old days. Heart-whole and happy, and poor as could be Eating his dinner, and drinking his tea, Dreaming mayhap o a girl o er the sea Heigh ho for the old days. Riches he found, and the heart o the world Heigh ho for the old days. Heart of a friend, and the heart of a maid, Bloom of a rose-bud that never would fade, Big was his love, and he was not afraid Heigh ho for the old days. 51 Broken Idols Big was his love, and his heart without fear Heigh ho for the old days. Never suspicious, he never would send Thought of unfaithfulness of wife or of friend, Aye, but he knew in the grim, bitter end Heigh ho for the old days. Knew as his idols around him crashed down Heigh ho for the old days. Watched as his dreams were swept swiftly away, Glamour of gold, and the light of the day, Idols beloved, with their poor feet of clay Heigh ho for the old days. Tired are his eyes, and it s dim is their power Heigh ho for the old days. Yet, do they see when the fire glistens bright, Softly and sadly, alone in the night, Visions that come till his tears blot the sight Heigh ho for the old days! Old Songs THEY come in the lonely silence Over the silver sea, Haunted with olden longing And olden memory, Sweet with their madding music Dear to the heart of me. Millions of years, or only One, and an endless day! One! Was it long in passing? Only the stars can say; Only the sighing breezes; Only the laughing spray. Futile the words and senseless Lacking the boast of rhyme, Paltry, mayhap, and trivial Perfect alone in time Songs that I knew, Ah, Foolish- Loved in another clime. 53 Old Songs Haunting they bring me wistful Crash of the grinding cars, Follies of old I followed, Lights that eclipsed the stars, Poor little hopes once nurtured, Youth, and redeeming scars. Blame ye a poet s fancies, Wraiths of a dreamer brain, Visions that cloud the sun-set; Jewels that gem the rain? Sweet, ah, sweet is the olden Music that sings again! 54 A Wish OH, little girl, may you never know Of the empty pain in my heart; May you never guess as you come and go, How its chords lie torn apart. May you never dream on a starlit night, Of the havoc you wrought within, When I worshipped afar, who had no right, And knew that I never could win. May you never suffer the lasting scar Of a love which was not to be; May you always be happy as angels are, And God have pity on me! 55 Night in Kampala THE sun has sought the velvet arms of night And gone to rest. The soft West wind sighs by; The palm-trees quiver in the waning light ; One little star peeps shyly from the sky. The birds have ceased their galaxy of song And stilled is every tiny feathered throat; Now flashes bright the merry starry throng, And rises now the cricket s quickening note. Deep in the marsh the bull-frog joins his cries To those of thousand toads that louder grow; The hum of insects rises to the skies, And Time throbs on with measured beat and slow. All silent in the town the gay bazaars, Save where the crabbed merchants two or three 56 Night in Kampala Count over in the dim light of the stars The profits of the day and usury. Within a small grass hut a native boy Upon a harp plays low with tireless power; A woman croons a simple song of joy, And melody and dream are in the hour. The Afric night steals softly o er my soul, I shut my eyes and let my thoughts go roam, Knowing well that they will seek a cherished goal And lead me back to long ago and home! 57 Revelation THE Unknown lures them blindly on And they come with a rousing cheer, To toil and toil on a barren shore For that which they hold most dear, But the day is long, in a rousing song Is hidden many a tear. And it s oh, for the sight of a blade of grass, And the shade of a friendly tree, And a winding lane in the April rain, And the country across the sea; But it s ever and ever the blazing sun And the glow of a tropic sky, And the drifting sand in a foreign land And a dream that never can die. The Unknown holds a thousand charms And calls with insistent cries, 58 Revelation Till youngsters come from their own firesides To look with unchallenged eyes, To give their youth in the search for truth, And to find the truth and the lies. And it s oh, for the song of a rippling brook Through the woods on a summer s day, And a daisy field by its side revealed And the perfume of new-mown hay, Rut it s ever the rocks of a barren coast That rise to the Aden sky, And the stinging sand in a foreign land, And a dream that never can die, Heigh ho! A dream that never can die! 59 "I Wonder- I WONDER do you think of me Across the trackless miles of sea Within your land so very fair And sometimes wish that I was there; And oftentimes I wonder, dear, What you would do If I, when all the stars a-gleam Are shining bright, on wings of dream Should come to you! 60 Wanderlust THEY say Broadway is pretty when the lamps are blazing bright Perhaps there is a glamour o er it all But I see not its beauty when I roam it of a night, For in my soul there is a luring call; A subtle, silent whisper from the meadow and the tree, Through all the grinding, crashing of the cars ; A tugging at my heart-strings and a longing wish to flee The place where there s no room for God- made stars; A craving for the open road, a love for simple things, The scent of wild-grown flow rs and new- mown hay; For Wanderlust is in me and I m praying God for wings The country is a-calling in the May! 61 Kampala of the Hills SHE nods beneath the noon-day sun And beckons and beguiles, Her eyes are filled with merriment, Her lips are wreathed in smiles; She seems to wear a woman s form, She wreaks a woman s wiles. She nestles in the seven hills A dew-drop in a rose, And dim at night beneath the stars With mystery she glows; But, oh, another vision glides Whene er the West wind blows. A quivering gleam of olden friends And lands across the sea, Of dear days nigh forgotten now And days which ne er can be, 62 Kampala of the Hills It brings unbidden tears to eyes Of wanderers like me. A glimpse of home Ah, God be kind! Ah, Land of wonder thrills! My heart but craves the Spring again, The yellow daffodils, The love that calls incessantly Beyond Kampala s hills! The Daisy Field THERE S a wealth of yellow daisies in the field beside my door, And they nod and dance before me in the sun ; Such lovely yellow daisies I have never seen before, And they seem to whisper, "Come and join our fun!" They are flinging back the sunlight, they are beautiful and gay, I would dearly like to join them for a while, But of course it s quite impossible, I m old and turning grey, And I nearly have forgotten how to smile. And yet they sway seductively and flirting with the breeze, They would thrall me with the wanton in their eyes, The Daisy Field And I wish I were a little child to play again with these And frolic in a daisy paradise. I wish I were a child again to mingle with their glory, To share the lilting laughter of the day With sun-light and with star-shine, and Life an unread story, And all my world a daisy field in play! Do You? Do you miss me as I miss you? Tell me, little Maiden, true. Do the days drift slow along As a saddened lonely song Wearied in a world of wrong; Do the stars shine in the skies Drear and dim with dewy eyes Yond the pale of Paradise; Do the West winds whisper low As to rest at night they go Memories of long ago; Is your life a dream devoid, Empty of all bliss-enjoyed Bygone days? Is Faith destroyed? 66 Do You? If your world seems so to be, Then I know you long for me Half as much as I for Thee! Do you miss me, tell me true, Half as much as I miss you? A Summer Day SUNSHINE in the blue sky, and sunshine on the sea! (Glory! What a fairyland!) and all the world is young, Life and Love and laughter a blend of melody, And the smiling heavens answer in a kindred, kindly tongue. You shall be a Princess, and I shall be a King! Only for a day, my Dear, ah, time so fleetly flies, But, within our tired hearts, the memory will sing To give us every toiling hour a gleam of para dise. Starlight in the black sky, and starshine on the sea! Fare thee well, O Summer Day, and come ye soon again; 68 A Summer Day Life and love and laughter, so full of ecstasy, And smiling eyes that bring a balm to ease the whole world s pain! East of Suez EAST o Suez, bli me, an the sun a-blazin ot, Touch o fever comin on, just as like as not, Not a bloomin ouse-maid in the ole un ealthy land, Not a blinkin public- ouse, and not a blinkin band, Not a bloomin bit o fun the ole unendin day But toilin for me livin an a-drawin o me pay. I would give me bloomin eyes, eart, an* ands, an all, Just to ear an ol -time pal give an ol -time call : " Ullo, wot cheer, Arf a pint o beer, Arf a pint o bitter at the oF Brown Cow? Drink it down with laughter, Sorrow may come after, But grin, you bloomin beggar, for at least you re appy now! 70 East of Suez East o Suez, s welp me, I m holdin o me own, Reapin now the arvest o the folly I ave sown; Tbinkin o the long ago, an dreamin o the nights Spent within the glitter o a million gleamin lights; Pinin for the drinks I ve ad, an sighin o me sighs, Thinkin o the star-shine in a Christian wom an s eyes; Longin for the city an the city s bloomin all, Longin for an old-time pal with is ol -time call : " Ullo, wot cheer, Arf a pint o beer, Arf a pint o bitter at the ol Brown Cow? Drink it down with laughter, Sorrow may come after, But grin, you bloomin beggar, for at least you re appy now!" Land Hoi SMILING sky and smiling waters, oh, the day was fair. (Through the black night we had come like a hint of woe, Darkened lights and battened hatches, murmured words and cautious steering, Fearful of a hidden terror, of a lurking, un seen foe.) Straight before us like a jewel flashing in the sun Proud she rose and beckoned us as we smiled again, Smiled and laughed with lightsome hearts at danger o er and beauty fore us, Blew a kiss or two, mayhap, to greet the shores of Spain. Who of us but dreamed again for who of us but saw Through the clouds, dim, wraith-like castles claimed them as his own 72 Land Ho! Of the days long gone and vanished when the faith was in the dreaming, And a dream was all the world when ne er the world was known Glory! There is little gladness in the hearts of men Weaned by the toiling hours and shattered by the years But, one moment fair and fleeting eyes were oped to olden wonders As we saw our dream again veiled in misty tears. 73 Spring Night THE wind among the tree-tops and the moon upon the sea; The splash of restless waves across the sands; The whisper of the ocean alive with luring plea A-mingling with the sighs of other lands. The silence of the heavens, and the glory of the stars ; The heavy scent of flowers and grassy sod ; The soul within me bursting the mortal prison bars To greet the awful majesty of God! 74 In the Toils THERE S wormwood in the heart o me, there s cobweb round my soul, My eyes are filled with longing to be free, I m dreaming of the mountains where the mighty rivers roll, And crash o er crag and cranny to the sea. I am stifling in the city where the best is but a lie, Where men can think of nothing else but gold Where lives are crushed and broken, and the weary long to die, And clamour for the birth-right they have sold. High buildings are around me, and they re crowding me to death, The streets are bright with futile, fatal flare, And many folks seem happy, but I cannot draw a breath 75 In the Toils And all those smiles are masks to cover care. For lonely, lonely faces pass me by most every day, And every one so vainly tries to smile, But down within the hearts o them there s sor row all the way, There s hatred of the city and its guile. Or perhaps it is a longing for the manhood they have lost, The memory of the men they used to be, Ere came the city craving, and they reckoned not the cost, But cast their bread upon the purple sea. I often want to go to them and take them by the hand They seem so very, very much alone Just gaze into their lonely eyes and say I un derstand, And prove that every heart is not of stone. In the Toils But such things must not happen; in the city you pass by Each one whom you have never met before, Yet every one is friendly where the mountains kiss the sky, And every one is clean white to the core. I m sick of all the city, where convention plays its part, I m dreaming of the mountains by the sea For cobweb s round the soul of me and sorrow s in my heart, I m longing and I m praying to be free! 77 Joy o Life HAVE you ever dreamed, as I have dreamed, O the will-o -the-wisp o fame Have you fought and sought, as I have done, And found it an empty name? Have you hoped with hope, as I have hoped, Till your heart was wet with tears, And found, as I, that sorrows abound, In the long, loag line o years? Have you tried and failed, as once I failed Have you conquered at last, to smile? If so, you ll learn, as I have learned, That the game, after all, s worth while; And some day you ll know, as I, too, know, That spite the sorrow and pain, The heart-worn strife, the toil o life You d live it all over again! Music Magic Perhaps there is no magic in this dull, old world of ours; Perhaps there are no Fairy Tales to gladden heart-break hours; Perhaps there is no beauty, and perhaps all things are wrong; But still there is the wonder of a little, old-time song! A SQUEAKING and battered old organ, rattling a moss-covered tune, Stood in the street of the city, there, in the heat of the noon; Banging of roses and sunshine, thrilling of lands far away, Whispering songs of my childhood sorrowful, simple and gay; I was a child for the moment, filled with a child s petty fears, Dreaming, and dreaming, and dreaming, never a thought of the tears. 79 Music Magic Then, as the music was softened, singing of love and of life, Brought it back thoughts of the old days, far from the toil and the strife, Glimmer of gold in the star-light, shimmer of silk by the sea; Words that were whispered, half-spoken, dreams that were never to be. Sweet intermingled with sadness, what is as dear as the past? Is there a day in the future that is as fair as the last? Music, oh, music, the master, there in the heat of the noon, A squeaking and battered old organ, rattling a moss-covered tune, Carried me back in my dreaming, far, to the long, long ago; Feeling way down in my heart-chords hope I thought never could glow; Brought to me who was a failure, beaten and crossed in the fight, 80 Music Magic Help in the hour of the darkness pointed the way to the light. Perhaps there is no magic in this dull, old world of ours; Perhaps there are no Fairy Tales to gladden heart-break hours; Perhaps there is no beauty, and perhaps all things are wrong; But still there is the wonder of a little, old-time song! 81 Dreams IF you can fight, as I must fight, The daily grinding toil; Then you will know the after-glow, The peace from out the moil. If you are loved, as I am loved, The earth s a Paradise; And you will play the game alway, Nor care to win the prize. If you can hope, as I may hope, With faith that still endures, Then you will win, through all the sin The world itself is yours. And you will dream, as I can dream, And dreams are fairer far Than love, and gold, and earth so old, Or other things that are! 82 An Invitation AH, fly with me to happiness, through the heart of the merry May, And follow me down the friendly road that lies at the end o day, And sing with me a simple tune in a mystical, magic tongue, For then we will come to Tir-na-noge, if only our hearts are young. If but our hearts are young, my dear, and our lips are alive for song, We ll give not a sigh for this world s woe, but laugh at it all night long, And o er the road with flying feet to the portals of Fairyland, We will travel, Asthore, with the gentle moon, and the stars that go hand-in-hand. 83 An Invitation And there, a queen of Tir-na-nogc, to her with a queen s caress, Will take us, my dear, within her arms, and softly our pain will bless; And we will find the prize we seek (Ah, the laugh of a little child!) But we must be young, so young, my dear, in our hearts that are beating wild. And oh, our lips must mark a song, a lullaby sweet and low, to waken the heart of a wee, wee babe of the ever so long ago, To ope his eyes in Fairyland to the love that he long has flown And cuddle himself against our hearts that will know him again their own. So come with me to Tir-na-noge, through the heart of the merry May, And follow me down the friendly road that lies at the end o day, An Invitation And sing with me a simple tune in a mystical, magic tongue, For then we will win to happiness, if only our hearts are young! 85 Gethsemane BREATHES there a man who claimeth not One lonely spot, His own Gethsemane, Whither with his inmost pain He fain Would weary plod, Find the surcease that is known In wind a-moan And sobbing sea, Cry his sorrow hid of men And then Touch hands with God. 86 Sunset in Egypt SILENCE, and a sense of loneliness, and a longing for a friend; The low gaunt plains of the desert rolling to the hills, The hills of Egypt, west of the world s end, And a wonder that thrills and thrills. Grim the mountains grand, imperious, proud, They marked the ribbed sky, grey and brown and blue With rugged thrust that pierced a sun-splashed cloud, As with a sudden splendour ever new The diamond of the day drooped a ruby in the far away, And sank beyond the low grey slaty sky. And then as though there crept a sudden dawn, Yellow and saffron, crimson, gold and green Sunset in Egypt The great wild clouds with new-found light flashed out Range on range in utter rout, As though obedient to a touch unseen, As though in homage to a nod . . . Silence, and a feeling of awe, and the pres ence of God. Then suddenly a low mysterious sound From out the ground, The pattering of fairy feet across a fairy dell, The sweet, recurrent tinkling of a laughing sil ver bell, The murmur in the woodlands of a drowsy sum mer stream, The whisper of a woman s voice upon the wings of dream The night wind of the desert in our ears Sang and sobbed, and through unbidden tears Each saw his dream again of all the years. Each saw and dreamed and prayed, with fear and unafraid 88 Sunset in Egypt And slowly rose the moon, the crescent moon, To lend new charms and hint of Paradise That yet would vanish soon . . . I heard a strong man breathing in the dark, And one who mutter d that all faith was lies, And yet a woman came to me and smiled With the glory of the sunset in her eyes! Desolation How we yearned for Spring, dear you and I, The winter seemed so weary- weighted, long; Each day we watched the saddened sky- Each day we prayed for one red robin s song. And then at last bloomed Spring, but you and I Had gone our different ways for e er to part ; And now though summer hours are nigh, There s winter, bitter winter in my heart. 90 The Nation I DREAMED of a mighty nation, peopled with millions of men, Flying their banner of freedom hope in their hearts again; Living the lives of the fearless, living the lives of the free; Rising and ever rising, as the restless tides of the sea. I saw them shake off the shackles that fettered them long ago, Ere they sought in the golden Westland the peace that the East can t know. I heard them singing of freedom, I heard them singing of love; And the song of their glad rejoicings rose to the Heavens above; And every man was a brother, and every man was a friend, The Nation And Heaven was all around them, and Heaven would never end. But then, there came in my dreaming, something which changed it all, Something which caused that freedom to totter and slowly fall, Something above that singing which rose to the purple sky The voices of little children raised in a deso late cry. I saw then a world of toilers, struggling as ever of old, Fighting and scrambling, a-praying for glittering dirt called gold, And the strong ones preyed on the weak ones, and the weak ones cried for death; And the land they had loved and longed for, they cursed with their dying breath! I dreamed of a fearless nation from the East to the Western waves And then I awoke from my dreaming to find it a land of slaves! 92 The Roadhouse INTO an Inn beside the Old Post Road Beloved by me in days of headlong youth, When life was sweet and laughter lightly flowed, I entered with the naked eyes of truth. Unchanged! It seemed as twere but yester night That I had bade the madcap scene farewell; The same wild crash of song, the blaze of light, And Folly there with her old luring spell. And yet so changed; or was it I grown old To thrill no more to joys of youth a-gleam; Ah, dear dim days agone the world is cold To him who stands within the husks of dream ! 93 Kinship HAVE you gone, as I ve gone, in the hours of your pain, To the sea where the ships glitter by? Have you stood, as I ve stood, in the withering rain, When your heart was too broken to cry? Have you watched, as I ve watched, every ves sel grow small In the East where the sky clambers down? Then you ve felt, as I ve felt, a great pity for all Who are locked in the grip of the town; And you will, when you win to a wealth uncon- fined, And you sail for far lands over-sea, Pause a moment to think of us still left behind, And you ll breathe a wee blessing for me. So that when I go down to the sea and look out To the land where my fondest dreams lie, I can hail you my kinsman in one silent shout And know you will answer my cry. 94 A Passing Prayer THE sea is blue to-day As never twas before, Soft green the crowning trees O er top the sunny shore, And all the world is good And I am twenty-four. Oh, God, when I am old, And all my world is grey, And my poor heart is tired, My eyes too dim for play, Give back in dreams to me The memory of to-day! 95 Surcease A LONG road, and a fair road, And a starlit night in June; With an old black pipe for comfort, And a dream with my heart attune; With a tried, true friend beside me I will tramp till the dream is done, And my cares like the leaves in Autumn Will drop from me, one by one ; And my soul from its slough of sorrow Will rise with a faith new-born, To linger a while with laughter Or ever is come the morn! The Promise BELOVED, when I am dead, And o er the unknown road have wound my way A-down the sunset-coloured clouds, Beyond the day, You will at eventide The confidential hour we loved of old, Cry out to me above the distant stars That twinkle gold. Cry out, and heed my cry, Till all the slumb ring heavens vast awake To marvel at a tryst so kept For old sake s sake. 97 Killowen SURE, it is a mighty city, an* the sights are sim ply grand, An the people here are pleasant spoke an kind; But, I m thinkin o Killowen, in that lovely, lonely land That so many years ago I left behind. Tis a little tiny village in the mountains by the sea, Half hidden like a bee within a bud, But, Glory! What a wonderland of beach, and field, and tree, And it s back there I d be goin 5 if I c u d. Tis not grand like its proud neighbours on the left and on the right, An very few have heard of it at all ; But, Killowen is imbedded in my heart each day and night, 98 Killowen An it s I can ever hear her gently call. When the sad East wind is whinin by the build- in s over here, An the streets are softly drenched in silver rain, I know Killowen s cryin for the ones she loved so dear, An I wish that all her tears were not in vain. For Killowen, fair Killowen, sure it s heavy is my heart, An my soul is sunk in sorrow every day, An I m weary that I ever had the mad, wild wish to part But what s the good of sorrow? I m away. Away from all the friendly folk, the fields of perfumed loam, The mountains, and the golden gorse-clad hill ; Killowen s far, too far, away; I never can go home An yet I love to think some day I will! 99 Castles in the Air WE have builded o er and o er Castles in the air. Tenderly with loving lore, We have watched each turret soar High o er hills of care. We have seen them crashing fall (Ah, that dreams are frail!) Down the mighty turrets tall, Battlements, and spires, and all; When our hopes were pale. We have railed at sorrow s crown Weary in our pain As our dreams went rushing down; But we smile beneath the frown We can build again. 100 The Healer I WILL go down to the sea, and the hills, and the kindly wind; Battered and sick in heart and body and soul ; And the seat to her bosom will take me, massive and kind, Banish my sorrow and make me well and whole. Ah, the pain I have suffered, the loneliness fruit of pain; Shattered the dream and dead the love in my heart. I will mingle my tears with the wind. The whimpering rain Answer will cry; and the burden of hate de part. In the dawn of the day when the hills are dif fused with gold, Sparkling the sky, the sunshine luringly young, 101 The Healer I will go and be laved of my pain and the sor row of old, Hearkening sea-wards the song in the well- loved tongue. I will come from the sea, and the hills, and the kindly wind, Proud in my faith, and strong for work or for play; And the hurt that was powerful will vanish, cringing and blind; Laughing I ll scoff at the torment that drove me way. 102 Dinny s Boy "MAYBE I spoils him," says Dinny to me, "Maybe, but, I love him so; I m all he has in this whole world, you see, I, an I ll soon have to go. "Little gossoon with a merry blue eye, Laughin and singin all day Friends whom I have, will they hark to his cry When I have gone far away? "Will they be near to him, will they be dear; Will they e er listen at all? When he is lonely and finds the earth drear, Who will go answer his call? "When I am dead, who will care for him then? Who will be good to the lad? Mem ry is weak in the best of us men, No one will love like his dad. 103 Dinny s Boy "He shall be happy as long as I live, I who am ageing and wan; All that I own to him gladly I give For who will be kind when I m gone?" 104 Port Said A BIT of the East, and a bit of the West, At the end of the world s end, And a bit of the worst, and a bit of the best, And a bit of a dream, and the hint of a quest, And misery and sorrow in merriment dressed At the end of the world s end. And this I had dreamed, in the halcyon days, Of the end of the world s end; And this was mine own. In the tortuous ways Flowed the colours of life, but the drabs and the greys Were drowned in the crimsons and lost in their maze At the end of the world s end. And only the good and the greatness was there At the end of the world s end, And the perfume of incense was sweet in the air, 105 Port Said The smile of a woman, the rose in her hair- But far off I heard a low cry of despair, A wee, little, choked little, cry of despair- At the end of the world s end. 106 Enslaved Over the sea a whisper, tremulous, soft and low, Calling, and calling, and calling, whenever the south winds blow But I am tied by a thousand ties that will not let me go. YOUNG, so young, are the years of me, but old, so old my heart, And deep the grief of an ancient woe, and the pain of an ancient smart, As the stately ships of the seven seas to the ends of the earth depart. I was the thrall of beauty. God, for the glint of sea! Bright in the languorous sunshine and green in the vessel s lee, Or gold and grey in the dawning sun that slaved the heart of me. 107 Enslaved Long ago in the lap of her, when all the world was young, And wild the wind in the trackless sky o er a fathomless space was flung, To the soul of me from the soul of her she spoke with a mother s tongue. Black as the cloak of Satan starred with a splash of gold Whipped by the wind in a midnight blow proud, and imperial, cold Or sweet her song in the lonely night, and sweet the tale she told. Sweet the song, and the talc so sweet, and ever comes her cry From out the lips of the homesick wind in the labyrinth wastes of sky, And my heart is thrilled with an olden thrill as the dream-laden ships go by. 1 08 Enslaved Ever a breath, a whisper ever a cry I know Calling, and calling, and calling, or murmuring soft and low But I am tied by a thousand ties that will not let me go! 109 On Bleecker Street DIRTY little smudged face, and bare and battered feet, Playing in the sunshine, laughing at the heat, Light of heart and care-free, down on Bleecker Street. Wonder what you think, boy, wonder do you dream Summer in the country, and field, and wood, and stream, Wind among the roses, and stars that glow and gleam? Wonder if the message that makes the summer dear, Song that thrills my heart-strings murmurs in your ear; If it came a-wooing, I wonder would you hear? no On Bleecker Street If it came a-wooing, Ah, God is kind and wise, Would not wake the hunger in a baby s eyes, Till that heart could answer the call of para dise. So you play, and happy, I wonder does she know She who is your mother and loves you, baby, so Ache for that you share not the gifts that God would show? Ill Happy Is He HAPPY is he who when the day is o er Can smile farewell to the slow setting sun, And know the bliss which thrills a faithful soul In consciousness of work attempted done. Who joyously can greet the glowing stars, And weary of the toil, by labour spent, Can wend his way to peacefulness and home And softly cry to God "I am content!" 112 Eden SUNSHINE on a new-mown field, The perfume ling ring sweet, Wind among the trembling trees With the noise of pattering feet, Summertime for all the world But oh, the time is fleet. Gather ye your rosebuds red And press them to you near, Fold your dreams within your heart If that you hold them dear, Laugh and love with wanton joy, Lest come too soon the tear. Sunshine on a new-mown field, (The rain beyond the skies,) Summer song, and summer day, And love in women s eyes . . . Raised to strike in Winter s hands The sword of Paradise The Journey WE RE toiling up an olden road the road that leads to Fairyland, (Honey, can t you see that star pointing out the way?) Don t you think there s some one watching guiding us to Fairyland, Some one who has trudged before the road we trudge to-day? Poppy petals nodding by the winding road to Fairyland Call to us so wearied, and their siren song is sleep; All the trees are murmuring, "It s very far to Fairyland, Very far and lonely, and the road is rough and steep!" 114 The Journey In your eyes is shining all the longing known in Fairyland, For the little, tiny tot who wandered there one day. Let the road be wearisome, our love will win to Fairyland (Honey, can t you hear the croon of little babes at play?) "Wanderer, Wanderer, Why Do You Stand- WANDERER, Wanderer, Why do you stand, as the sun sets glowing? I m longing for my own land and the soft wind blowing. Wanderer, Wanderer, Why do you gaze with your sad eyes dreaming? I m visioning my own home and the star-shine gleaming. Wanderer, Wanderer, Why do you pause with your whole soul sighing? I m praying for my own Love and her tired heart dying. Wanderer, Wanderer, Why do you weep? Is the world all sorrow? I m thinking of my grief to-day, and the long to-morrow. 116 The Lure I HAVE a hungering for the sea, . The smell of the salt, and the sting of the spray in my face, The song of the wind in the lonely ways, And the lure of limitless space; The glint of stars in the tropic night, And the glorious grey of the dawn in a fath omless sky, The splashing of waves by the cleaving prow, And the screech of gulls flying by; The sights, the sounds, and the mysteries, The presence of God, and the touch of His comforting hand; The sea, and a ship, and an old-time quest, And the dimming, distancing land. 117 Old Love Letters A FRAGRANT perfume clings around them still, Of violets, and clover, and of thyme, And memories of one fair woodland hill, And You and I where rambling roses climb. Of You and I, the dear, dear dreams we planned The vows we gave, and whispered soft and low- The centuries our deathless love had spanned And that was only one short year ago. "Forever thine." "Thine own till life is run," Your letters read. My head swims fast awhirl For you are married to another one, And I, to-morrow, wed another girl. 118 "Missing!" THE bare, brief, brutal lines; The news withheld, yet told; To grip the heart with ghastly fear, As blood runs cold. Unknown, a loved one s fate; The yawning, sick ning dread, To view him wounded and alone, Or captured. Dead! . . . Not dead, dear God, not dead (We who have loved him so) But safe and sound, and winning home Ah, God! To know! To know! 119 Respite THE dawn upon the hills o home Beside the grey-lit sea, A-shining as in days of yore To thrill the heart of me, A wanderer a wanderer Who yet again must flee! . . . A little while to live and laugh, A little while to play, Then on and on across the world Beyond the break o day . . . The lights of home Ah, loved of old- Shine dim across the bay. . . . 1 20 The Last Journey THE wind-swept sky, the wind-swept sea, and all the world before us, (God be with the golden dream that lures us on again.) With Romance at the tiller, and the screeching gulls in chorus To welcome us, to welcome us the rovers of the main ! Exulting at the freedom with the freedom of steering, Only to be out again upon the open sea, Nor wishful to be home at all, nor care what shore we re nearing, Exulting at the freedom with the freedom of the free. But those of us who dreamed our dream and saw it swiftly winging 121 The Last Journey Down the road to anywhere, and watched with brimming eyes; We steal into the pilot house where Romance softly singing Tells us oh, so gently that our port is Paradise. 122 A Question E EN though our dream was doomed to die Was it then not worth the dreaming? The stolen hours, the scented hours, And the moonlight silver gleaming. The whispered word, the touch of lips, And the south wind softly blowing, The limpid eyes, the dream-filled eyes, And the love beyond all knowing. The song that laughed within our ears, And our hearts with gladness teeming Though deep the pain and the dream in vain, Do you regret the dreaming? 123 Restoration WHEN comes my time to go, be kind, ah, kind, Take what is left of me; Lay me at rest on a lonely shore With my face to the sea. Touch your lips to my wearied brow, Taking a man s farewell, Giving me back to my love of old And her simple spell. Each to each ere the dream may die (Ever will faith atone) That the sea may claim what was hers, at last, And I, mine own! 124 Ghosts THESE, these, come to me these! Dear Make-believe, and memories, Half-forgotten, half-remembered things that dream Would make to seem Too cruelly real, too poignant for a Wanderer to know. And yet as glows the glory of the Cross, The wonder and the beauty of the South, They come caressing, Brushing their lips against my mouth, Folding me, and holding me, pressing Their shadowy beings, and whispering dear words very low And sweet against my all-too-heeding ear, So marvellously close, and so most terribly near. Sunshine on a field, and poppies swaying, And little children playing 125 Ghosts In the laughter of the day; And far away The whistle of a train . . . Then rain, The sweet, warm smell of summer rain, And new-mown hay; And trees glistening, and drenched grass; And little feet that pass Hurriedly across the gravel walks, the loam To the sanctuary of home Perfumed with the flowers of June, The roses that stood In myriad clusters on the wood Of the well-remembered table in the hall Down by the place where coats were hung Or flung Hastily Children s coats and things on pegs upon the wall. These come to me A mother s eyes glistening with the glories Of thrice told Fairy stories Ere sleep flew down on angel wings, and light, 126 Ghosts Delicately, Folded her arms and uncomplaining led away From the wonders of the day, Sleepy, little, weary heads Couched in small, and snowy beds To the wonderness of Dream-land in the king dom of Night. And then a loved one, dear words spoken, Foolish, little, simple things, but most magic ally true, Promises that Time would find un-broken; And lips gainst yielding lips, warm form to form, Hot breath to breath. A trinket given as a token, Some precious gem; and Time on winged feet flying, And in the dusk, the droning wings of Death. . . . Ah, Christ! The dreams Youth brought of Fortune, Fame, 127 Ghosts And glorious Name, And Gold, shining as the sunshine on a wom an s hair When she is young, and dear, and kind, And eyes are not yet blind To the good, the sweet, the loveliness of life, Nor see the sordidness, the strife, The great enveloping mantle of Despair. These come to me Poor, little, frail, and precious things, they fade, Grow dim, and vanish in the air as smoke wind-blown From friendly chimneys into the unresisting sky And infinity, And I am left immeasurably alone. 128 The Southern Cross I FIRST saw a brooch upon your breast, Dear, delicate, and precious thing, Fine gold and diamonds ; you pressed It close against your bosom, and you smiled At me. That smile caressed My being as a flame . . . I breathed your name , And said What was t I said, My lips close to your brown, delightful head? Ah yes, I murmured words taught me of para dise, And then, "This cross of Southern skies But gains its glory from the glory in your eyes." And You did not you laugh And call me dear, and foolish names, And lock your fingers then in mine, and say "The real cross flames As sunshine in the day." . . . 129 The Southern Cross The Southern Cross is gleaming over-head, Flashing and flaming in the velvet skies But I see a little brooch upon your breast, And the glory that was stolen from your eyes. 130 The Mail-Runner As ugly as sin, and as black as the Pit, With clothes nothing much and those few do not fit, A goat-skin or two, and a rag on his back, He bears on his shoulders a dream-crowded pack. He comes like a shadow far over the hills, He comes with his burden of sorrows and thrills, Of love and of laughter. As light as the foam He springs down the trail with the letters from Home! And here s one for you and another for me To bring us a glimpse of the whispering sea, The tang of the salt and the touch of the brine, And a dream that was yours, and a dream that was mine. And this gives us Spring in the far, far away, The perfume of Thyme, and the scent of the hay, The Mail-Runner And the husk of a memory broken and pale These, these are the letters that come by the Mail. And what would ye have but the trust of a friend, A letter to read, and a day-dream to spend, A heart that can smile through the mist of the years, And the dear written word that would banish the tears ? Though ugly he be and as black as the Pit, With clothes nothing much and those few do not fit, He might be an angel with wings white as foam For he brings to us Wanderers letters from Home! 132 African Dawn THE first red tints flung on the Eastern sky Splash and grow large as running streams of fire: The night is o er. The brilliant stars on high Still blazing bright grow dim to vanish, as desire Unsatisfied must wander down to die. - . . A sound shatters the silence. The beat of a drum, Impatient and shrill, calling the tillers of the soil From slumber, and from dreams, and blissful peace To wakefulness and toil. And then the notes are stilled; once more the world Is handed back to silence. 133 African Dawn But loud a cry, ere yet the gonfalons of night are fully furled, Comes pealing through the air A long, wild, drawn-out monotone Summoning the faithful unto prayer, to prayer ! From out the winding, honey-combed bazaars, Blinking in the stars, Shadowy shapes with muffled heads bowed low, Old and young eagerly they plod A-down the tracks of sand called streets, to that dim mosque To cry their cry again "There is no God but God!" The birds burst into song, even as at home Yourself have heard them on a morn in Spring The sun comes dancing o er the waves To fling His rays on all the world of Love, and Light, and Melody 134 African Dawn For those, who would, to see . . . But they know not Christians the greys, the golds, the yellows, and the reds, The swaying flowers that in the sun-light nod, The myriad scents, the Melody, the things that sing of God They sleep shapeless and dishevelled lumps ly ing in their beds. 135 Night in Africa As sinks the sun, the wind comes slowly sigh ing Through the solemn and silent trees like fin gers playing Gently, and softly, on heart-strings crying, Crooning, and sobbing; the fingers straying Now on a tremulous, plaintive chord, then sad der, Touching the depths of woe and the old world s sorrow; Springing at will to a glorious note, and gladder, Throbbing of Love and Hope in a great to morrow. Softly the shimmering stars come shyly peeping Out of the heavens to marvel, their curious eyes Filled with wonder the world should so lie sleeping, Figures of death, and deaf to the music creeping, 136 Night in Africa Sodden with slumber and lost to their para dise. So is the night with music and myst ry passing, So is the dawn approaching on winged feet, Far to the Eastward the sun-barbed cohorts are massing, Massing to shatter the dusk and the music sweet. Dim grow the stars, and the night grows older and older, Sweet sings the wind, and his sad voice sweeter and bolder, Down to the sea and away o er the silent Deep To where in a distant land a dreamer stirs in his sleep. 137 (M\ KRSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY BERKELEY THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW Books not returned on time are subject to a fine of 50c per volume after the third da\ overdue. Incn to $1.00 per volume after the sixth d., not in demand may lie rein-wed if application i> made expiration of loan period. JAN 80 1919 13 APR 271932 JAN8019iqo,_c 371651 UNIVERSITY OF CAUFORNIA LIBRARY