University of California Berkeley 
 
 
NINA JONES 
 HER BOOK 
 
 
 
NINAONES 
 
 PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY 
 SAN FRANCISCO 
 
Copyright, 1916 
 
 By PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY 
 SAN FRANCISCO 
 
TO 
 MY FATHER 
 
 Take this my book 
 A poor offering 
 For so much kindness, 
 But my all. I bring 
 And lay it in your hand 
 Today. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A SONG OF LITTLE THINGS 3 
 
 "Missis" 5 
 
 To MRS. CARRINGTON 7 
 
 WINDS THAT BLOW 9 
 
 LONELINESS n 
 
 THE SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT 13 
 
 After "On! THAT WE Two WERE MAYING!" . . 15 
 
 MY MOTHER'S EYES 17 
 
 THE WAR 19 
 
 THE DAYS WE PLAYED 21 
 
 SILENCE 23 
 
 THE DREAMER 25 
 
 CONSOLATION 27 
 
 HEART OF THE WINDS THAT CROSS THE HILL ... 29 
 
 DEATH 31 
 
 INCONSTANCY 33 
 
 A PRAYER 35 
 
 FLEURDELIS 37 
 
 KATHERINE FEBRUARY 23, 1916 39 
 
 A LULLABY . 41 
 
 WE CHASED THE BUTTERFLIES OF DREAMS ... 43 
 
 DISTANCE 45 
 
 AWAKENING 47 
 
 SOMEWHERE OUT OF THE DARKNESS SWEET ... 49 
 
 SOMETHING OF CHILDHOOD 51 
 
 THE WAVES THAT WASHED AWAY THE SAND 53 
 
 [v] ' 
 
NINA JONES 
 HER BOOK 
 
A SONG OF LITTLE THINGS 
 
 HITTLE birds upon the wing 
 Flying off together, 
 Bursting little hearts to sing 
 Of the golden weather. 
 Little birds upon the wing! 
 
 Little sails out on the sea, 
 Gulls and sails aflying, 
 In the winds of Destiny 
 Each the other vieing. 
 Little sails out on the sea! 
 
 Little stars up in the sky, 
 Heaven's lamps ashining. 
 Do you ever wonder why, 
 Are you never pining 
 For the birds and sails that fly? 
 Little stars up in the sky! 
 
 [3] 
 
"MlSSIE" 
 
 HE NAME you had for me, 
 
 (You called it yesterday) 
 As blossoms of rosemary, 
 
 The little name "Missie." 
 It fell so light and gay, 
 The name you had for me. 
 
 Did it guide you happily 
 Back, or will you say? 
 As blossoms of rosemary! 
 
 Little name that was the key 
 
 To the springtimes early May, 
 The name you had for me. 
 
 Sweet and dear eternally, 
 
 Smiling at the sun loved day, 
 As blossoms of rosemary. 
 
 Who shall take this name from me? 
 When my hair is turning grey! 
 No. It shall be April's fee 
 As blossoms of rosemary. 
 
 [5] 
 
To MRS. CARRINGTON 
 
 ), SONNET, tell her that I miss 
 The little touch upon the waiting hand; 
 e ever ready words, "I understand;" 
 HerTundly thought; the imprint of her kiss. 
 And whisper how her words did much impress, 
 As a seer's finger writing on the desert sand, 
 This life of mine; how she ambition fanned 
 Until it was a flame of lovliness. 
 
 She may, within her dear heart's warmer clime, 
 Send me a word, as the swift passing ship 
 Takes brief a second from its glass of time, 
 To signal the small shallop's toss and dip. 
 I pause o'er I remember we are friends 
 Even to the world's eternal sunset ends. 
 
WINDS THAT BLOW 
 
 that blow the roses sweet 
 Over the walls of the garden, 
 Out into the dusty street 
 
 And never ask a pardon, 
 
 Do you never wonder where 
 
 The ashes of those roses go, 
 
 Or is it you do not care? 
 
 Winds that blow! 
 
 [9] 
 
LONELINESS 
 
 THINK of you the whole day through. 
 
 My thoughts, they voyage swift and 
 
 speed 
 
 Upon the winds across the mead. 
 The winds that sing the song of you! 
 
 I watch alone, the stars that gleam 
 Their vagrant way across the sky. 
 I know a little bird will fly 
 One day to you as in a dream. 
 
 And you will come, hearing my call, 
 So silently upon the sand. 
 I will reach out and clasp your hand, 
 Remembering and forgiving all. 
 
 By permission 
 
 The International Magazine 
 
 hi] 
 
THE SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT 
 
 SHIPS that pass in the night, 
 Through the silvering grey of the sea, 
 Are ever a welcome delight. 
 
 The ships that pass in the night 
 
 May hold a dream's swift flight; 
 
 Some fair dream for you or me. 
 
 The ships that pass in the night 
 
 Through the silvering grey of the sea! 
 
 [13] 
 
After "On! THAT WE Two WERE 
 
 MAYING" 
 
 OH ! THAT we two were sailing 
 Down the breast of the distant stream. 
 Like little white drifts playing 
 In the shade of the river's dream.- 
 Oh! that we two sat, dear one, 
 On the banks of the golden rod, 
 Watching the twilight beckon 
 O'er the clouds that reach to God. 
 Oh ! that we two lay sleeping 
 In our haven beneath the sea, 
 With our hearts in Love's safe keeping 
 And our souls in Eternity. 
 
 [15] 
 
MY MOTHER'S EYES 
 
 HE HAS blue eyes, that smile 
 And hold the depth of angels' tears; 
 That shine through stars, the while 
 
 Gazing backward at the years. 
 
 They are so true, these lovely eyes, 
 
 And ever gaze a new sweet thought 
 
 But who would not surmise 
 
 She has blue eyes ! 
 
 17] 
 
THE WAR 
 
 *--^r CRASHED upon the world its mighty woe> 
 And tore its bloody path through many 
 ^J^^ hearts 
 A thing malign that is all nations' foe, 
 War! the destroying hand of all the arts. 
 It turns Time back to dreaded savage parts. 
 The wreaking knife of murder's gory force, 
 It hurls the best in man into its carts 
 Of carnage, ravage; heedless of remorse 
 That comes too late with Death's unflinching 
 course. 
 
THE DAYS WE PLAYED 
 
 DAYS we played in the shimmering sea 
 Andyoursongwaslightonthequietair, 
 Happy the hours and happier we, 
 Without a sorrow and with a laugh for care! 
 Now was there ever so merry a pair 
 Dancing in sunshine beneath the lea? 
 The days we played in the shimmering sea 
 And your song was light on the quiet air! 
 The salt shone diadem-like in your hair, 
 We can not say love was not there, 
 But in the Autumn he set himself free. 
 The days we played in the shimmering sea 
 And your song was light on the quiet air. 
 
 [21 
 
SILENCE 
 
 [ILENCE is the lull that follows gales at sea, 
 The pause before the voice of lovers' 
 
 speech, 
 
 The stillness of the grey dawn's mystery, 
 The aftermath of twilight on the beach. 
 It is God given within human reach. 
 
 It is found in emotion's greatest hour, 
 A thing too subtle for expression's form. 
 It dwells in the heart of a forest flower 
 And sails like a light cloud before the storm, 
 Unseen, unheard, but with insistent power. 
 
 [23] 
 
THE DREAMER 
 
 OREAM that my dwelling is within your 
 heart, 
 Imagine that my visioning is your 
 
 own, 
 
 Look up and see me laughing down the path 
 Of memories, together we have sown. 
 
 Suppose that life were a meadow green, 
 The years the field flowers that blow, 
 
 And through the tall grasses hand in hand 
 Singing, like happy children we go. 
 
 Oh say that, "The sad road is covered/' 
 That," The dogwood's abloom in the Spring. 1 
 
 And once more we shall sit in the twilight 
 With silence remembering! 
 
CONSOLATION 
 
 E still! 
 
 No ill 
 
 Can come to you. 
 
 So deep 
 
 And fathomless 
 
 Is death. 
 
 No breath, 
 
 An end of pain. 
 
 I call, 
 
 Tis all 
 
 My sad heart knows. 
 
 Silent, 
 
 Intent, 
 
 Upon your slumber. 
 
 But near 
 
 I hear 
 
 Your spirit speak, 
 
 In dreams, 
 
 It seems. 
 
 [27] 
 
HEART OF THE WINDS THAT CROSS 
 THE HILL 
 
 BEART of the winds that cross the hill 
 And come with the sweet of the hay,- 
 Through my curtained window sill; 
 Heart of the winds that cross the hill, 
 Bringing a breath of the ocean's chill, 
 And cooling the summer's day; 
 Heart of the winds that cross the hill 
 And come with the sweet of the hay! 
 
 [29] 
 
DEATH 
 
 IE TEARS rained from the sky 
 I Oh stormy weeping. 
 
 ' The sun hung sadly behind a cloud 
 
 Fofyou were sleeping 
 
 In that last unwakeful rest. 
 
 The world was grey. 
 
 Even the green almond swayed in sorrow, 
 
 The old priest came to pray 
 
 And I beside your still form stood 
 
 Turned fast to stone; 
 
 Then through the rainbow that swiftly 
 
 swayed above 
 I saw your face alone! 
 
 By permission 
 
 The International Magazine 
 
 [31] 
 
INCONSTANCY 
 
 I LOVE the world! 
 I love you. 
 I could not be true 
 To just you, 
 So I love the world 
 Including you. 
 
 33 
 
A PRAYER 
 
 OH LET our prayers come unto Thee 
 And listen in Thy greater heart. 
 To the torn world eternally 
 Oh let our prayers come unto Thee ! 
 Until from sin our souls are free 
 And we have done our given part, 
 Oh let our prayers come unto Thee 
 And listen in Thy greater heart. 
 
 .35 
 
FLEURDE Lis 
 
 SPRING to color o'er the hills of France, 
 ,In glory purpling the martial fields, 
 And waving pinions of fair romance, 
 
 In winds that sing of battle and of chance. 
 
 And ye art blazoned even on their shields ! 
 
 Ye grow in the damp of the trenches' mire, 
 In the hot passion of war's wretched cause, 
 And give thy fresh bloom to the cannon's fire, 
 (Too frail to burn on a funeral pyre ). 
 Oh what care ye for this world's mock applause ! 
 
 Ye die on stems made green by April's tears, 
 On youthful graves ye thrive to bloom anew. 
 Thou art the ghosts of a hundred buried years, 
 Of other lily flowers that here grew, 
 Returned to face the horror and the fears! 
 
 [37] 
 
KATHERINE 
 
 FEBRUARY 23, 1916 
 
 ON'T YOU say she's sleeping, sleeping, 
 Resting peacefully today? 
 Won't you see the angels keeping 
 Watch above her lovely clay? 
 
 Does your heart stop still and listen 
 For her footfall on the stair? 
 Do you close wet eyes that glisten 
 With the sad tears always there? 
 
 Won't you think her sleeping, sleeping, 
 In that home below the hill, 
 With the cool green ivy creeping 
 Over door and window sill ? 
 
 Oh, poor lonely heart a'aching, 
 Give her tears and violets white, 
 Only know that she is waking 
 Out of darkness into Light. 
 
 [39] 
 
A LULLABY 
 
 in these happy arms my pet, 
 J Dream that the fluted notes of Pan 
 Are dancing o'er your coverlet, 
 And baby stars are looking down 
 Upon you, child, and even yet 
 Are dancing o'er your coverlet. 
 
 Rest through the quiet night, my sweet, 
 Know that God is looking down, 
 Guiding to Dreamland your little feet. 
 And sweet thoughts linger o'er your bed, 
 While mother's prayers with them meet 
 Guiding to Dreamland your little feet. 
 
WE CHASED THE BUTTERFLIES OF 
 DREAMS 
 
 CHASED the butterflies of dreams 
 lnto the fields of yesterday, 
 And caught one mid the moonlight 
 
 beams. 
 
 We chased the butterflies of dreams, 
 That danced beside the shady streams. 
 They lingered, but to fly away. 
 We chased the butterflies of dreams 
 Into the fields of yesterday! 
 
 [43] 
 
DISTANCE 
 
 I LOVED you, dear, 
 I never told you so. 
 I pressed your lips, 
 You did not dream or know. 
 I called your name, 
 You could not hear so far, 
 For I'm the ingenue You the star! 
 
 By permission 
 
 The Theatre Magazine 
 
 [45! 
 
AWAKENING 
 
 -r^i 
 
 OJ 
 
 JKNEW it not for love 
 When first you touched my hand. 
 The trembling of my heart 
 I did not understand. 
 
 I knew it not for love 
 When first you kissed me, dear,- 
 And yet it seemed not strange 
 That you should be so near. 
 
 I knew it not for love 
 Until you went away, 
 Then came the wild desire 
 For you and yesterday. 
 
 [47] 
 
SOMEWHERE OUT OF THE DARKNESS 
 SWEET 
 
 foMEWHERE out of the darkness sweet, 
 The darkness of the narrow grave, 
 
 I hear the soft tread of your feet. 
 
 Somewhere out of the darkness sweet, 
 Or is it but a mere conceit 
 Of longing that the spirit gave? 
 Somewhere out of the darkness sweet, 
 The darkness of the narrow grave! 
 
 [49] 
 
SOMETHING OF CHILDHOOD 
 
 I HAVE this with me always 
 The love of little things, 
 A torn book from my childhood, 
 A worn out doll that clings 
 Around memory, that lingers 
 And in the tree top sings. 
 
 I have not yet forgotten 
 The toy house on the lawn, 
 
 The wee and shabby furniture 
 Quite rickety and torn, 
 
 I close my eyes and wonder 
 
 Where has my childhood gone? 
 
 I think sometime I'll find it 
 
 Beside a shaded brook, 
 With johnny-jump-ups on its bank 
 
 Like in a story book 
 
 The little girl I used to know 
 
 With childhood's wondering look. 
 
 [51] 
 
THE WAVES THAT WASHED AWAY 
 THE SAND 
 
 HE WAVES that washed away the sand 
 
 Swept our two names into the sea 
 
 They acted as a fairy wand. 
 The waves that washed away the sand, 
 Left nothing that we two had planned, 
 But set our hearts and summer free. 
 The waves that washed away the sand 
 Swept our two names into the sea. 
 
 53] 
 
HERE ENDS THE BOOK OF NINA JONES PUB- 
 LISHED BY PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY, AND 
 SEEN THROUGH THEIR TOMOYE PRESS 
 UNDER THE TYPOGRAPHICAL DIRECTION OF 
 HERMAN A. FUNKE, IN SAN FRANCISCO, 
 DURING THE MONTH OF SEPTEMBER, 
 NINETEEN HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN 
 
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