MC-NRLF 573 051 LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. Received Accession Of TH UHIVBRSITT THE LATEST AND LATER POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED THE HICKS-JUDD CO., PUBLISHERS, 23 FIRST STREET, S. F., CAL. Copyright 1896 BY ANNA MORRISON REED LAYTONVILLE, CAT.. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED CONTENTS. PAGE Across the Wire .......................................... 16 " Afterwards " ............................................ 14 A Golden Dream In Memory of Leon ................... 56 Ante-Mortem ...... ........................................ 84 As a Nun Would Tell Her Beads . ......................... 68 At Twilight Hallow-E en ................................. 23 Browning ............................ ..................... 43 California ............................. .................... 9 Christmas, 1890 ............................................ 40 Death of President Garfield a Monody .................... 34 Death of General Grant a Monody ....................... 74 Easter, 1895 .................................... ........... 17 Fragments ........ ................. ...................... 21, 47 " Gertrude and Theodore "a Lay of Ye Modern Knight and Lady Fair ........................................ 48 Good Friday ............................................. 53 Her King .................. . ............................. 3 1 Hurt ....................................................... 3 2 " I Do Begrudge to Time " ................................ 78 In Humboldt .............................................. 18 " I Pass Her Grave " ..................................... 55 " I Thirst" ............................................ 61 June ...................................................... 5 Last Night ........................................ . ........ 19 Love s Magic Seal ....................................... 65 Mother a Reverie ...................................... 38 My Life Is Devoted to Memories of You " ............... 62 CONTENTS. PAGE My Lover 22 My Treasure 13 " No Babes in Arms" a Satire 69 Ode to Progress Prize Poem 66 Retrospect 46 Revealed The Vision of " Far Cathay " n Sacramento 82 Song In Mexico 12 Sunset 52 "The Cup of Gold" Bright Emblem of Our Peerless State 10 The Eclipse 63 " The Gladdest Heart " 81 Three Minstrels 15 To a Charming Portrait of a Gypsy Maiden 79 To My Beloved 64 To the Native Sons of the Golden West 60 To the University of California 73 Washington 1789-1889 42 Wasted 45 Your Life and Mine 20 PART FIRST. THE LATEST POEMS. ITJHI7BKSIT7 TO MY CHILDREN, In whose love and companionship I have found the greatest happiness that life has afforded me. ANNA M. REED. >> Of POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. ftJHIVBRSITT OUEEN of the Coast, she stands here emerald- 1 crowned, Waiting her ships that sail in from the sea, Fairer than all the western world to me, Is this young Goddess whom the years have found. Ocean and land, with riches rare and sweet, Loyally bring their treasures to her feet ; In her brave arms she holds with proud content The varied plenty of a continent ; In her fair face, and in her dreaming eyes, Shines the bright promise of her destinies; Winds kiss her cheek, and fret the restless tides, She in their truth with faith divine confides, Watching the course of empire s brilliant fate, She looks serenely through the Golden Gate. 10 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. Cup of BRIGHT EMBLEM or OUR PEERLESS STATE. J\ CROSS the valley-land and hill, The south wind blows, and drones the bee, Until his drowsy minstrelsy, In fragrant chalices grows still. Amidst a sea with orange flushed, Like undulating waves of gold, A million yellow buds unfold. And like the bee, my song is hushed. A golden noon, a golden land, And gathered in a golden hour, The treasure of this matchless flower, Until at last I silent stand, Soul-satisfied, and drinking up The incense from each tawny cup. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 11 THE VISION or "FAR CATHAY."* JN THIS "White City" by the lake, Where lilies blow and fountains play, And swans glide through the crystal spray, I read God s answer for the sake Of him who suffered wrong and pain, Yet crossed in faith the trackless main, Where quest was stayed, nor sail was furled, Till Christ he bore to this new world. O spires of pearl ! O domes of gold ! O arch and column wealth untold, Of every treasured gem of art, Revealed you hold a a nation s pride, The things for which Columbus died, Because they lived in his brave heart. * Columbian Exposition, Chicago, 1893. 12 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. IN MEXICO. yES, parted, we are parted, And I am broken-hearted, The southern cross shines o er his way, And I am broken-hearted. He wrote: u O Love remember! From May until December, My heart is constant as the sun From May until December." O tropic sun ! touch kindly The face I love so blindly, Across the mesas safely guide, The one I love so blindly. Asunder, yes, asunder, The sands^his feet lie under, The mescal blooms around his way, And we are far asunder. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 13 I H A VB found a gem priceless and rare in the world of men; And all earth s hoards from bank and mine, Where gold and silver and diamonds shine, Could not buy from me this thing divine. For sweeter than life and not one breath Can be bartered away from the tyrant death Dearer than fame, for which men die, The jewel that treasure cannot buy. No vault that stands in the busy marts Can hold what I keep in my " heart of hearts," Where no rust may mar, nor bars conceal, And thieves are powerless to break and steal. It shines with a wonderful changeless light, Which brightens sorrow and banishes night, And while destiny weaves a fate untold, It runs through the web like a warp of gold. August, 1892. 14 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. Q PALE, sweet face ! Believe me I know I & understand Even though ocean-parted, and parted by the land, Longing and broken-hearted for touch of lip or hand. O voice ! to me the sweetest that I have ever heard, And dearer than the music of wind or singing bird, You need not break the silence, e en by a writ ten word. You have blest me, and forever, by look and touch and tone, And time can rob me never, nor make you less my own, Although without your presence, I am bereft alone. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 15 I trust you ocean-parted, and parted by the land, Wild for the old caresses, of cheek, or lip, or hand I love you O I love you ! I know and under stand. In memory of Trinidad, September 3, 1892. minstrels sing, at dawn and dark 1 And through the slumberous golden noon The dove, the robin, and the lark, Here at the threshold of the June. At dawn the robin s matin song, Is first to wake the dreaming notes, And while its changes still prolong, The Angelus rings clear and strong, From out a myriad yellow throats. Then as the daylight waxes dim, The wood-dove coos her vesper hymn. The robin at the early dawn, The lark at noon at dark the dove,. Three minstrels but the theme is love. 16 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. Across tl?e "$)ire. 7\ CROSS the wire rny darling has called to me to-day, And I have read between the lines, and I know what he would say; For through the formal message, which tells me only half, There glows a subtle meaning, and I bless the telegraph. And with this yellow slip in hand, which is sometimes so dread When it brings misfortune s tidings, when it tells us of the dead, I sit and dream a thousand things more golden than its hue, For I love him, and he loves me, and I know that he is true. Across the wire my darling from busy mart to mart Has sent the words that link us. thought to thought, as heart to heart; A few brief hours and by his side I ll hear the other half, And know how sweet the reason why I bless the telegraph. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 17 Gaster-1895. " I am the Resurrection and the Life, he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live." 7] T DAWN beside Jerusalem the Roman sol- fe dier paced his round About the sepulcher; where chain, And high priests seal securely bound, That it might never rise again, Dead love Our Saviour and our King, Who came glad promises to bring And save from death our fallen race. A glorious light dispersed the gloom, And rent the rock which closed the tomb, His first best promise kept to man, We wait within another morn; Forever safe from blight or ban A perfect day, of better things, For peace and joy and love it brings, And we, at last, shall see His face. 18 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. ^n J^umbolbt. 7] LONG the roads and sweet by-ways fe The fireweed and golden-rod Sway in the wind and whispering nod, Through these long sunny autumn days. I know the wild azaleas blow Where every day you come and go, Along the grades so wild and steep, The laden vines with berries creep, With crimson clusters in the grass That tempt one always as they pass. Do you remember one sweet day, We came from Ferndale, by the bluff? You said you d cast the world away, If I would say love was enough Without reproach without regret Ah love ! there s nothing I forget. I turned away from you, and all That might have made my life complete, And yet no worse thing can befall, Since we in life no more shall meet. I chose for both the " better part," Which leaves me with a famished heart. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 19 But, day by day, in fancy s light, Through time s unceasing, restless flight, I live; and dream. of you and all These precious memories recall And fain would stoop to kiss the sod Where once we gathered golden-rod. September, 1896. GLAMOUR of last night, Its moonlight and its dreams, The spell that bound us waking seems To hold me yet in long delight. The memory of each word and look, Still thrills me to the finger-tips, As did your eyes and your sweet lips, That made my soul an open book, Its treasures bared to your dear sight. Since you have found its mystery out, And tenderly its secrets read, My truth you cannot longer doubt; Nor I the loving heart that led, Your wandering feet to fondly trace, The paths which brought us face to face. 20 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. your ife anb QHARDS and lees after meat and wine Such is your life, my own, and mine After the feast, the " husks and swine." The idle word and the careless smile ; The endless tasks that the days beguile, And hearts that almost break, meanwhile. But you remember, and so do I, The fond red lip and the loving eye These and the thoughts that never die. Of the twilight hush which fell so soon, Your darling presence within the room, A brief, sweet hour, and then the gloom. How do I live? because I dare Make my days but a living prayer, That I shall find you again, somewhere. After the storms that around us sweep, After the toil, and the tears I weep, Into your arms I shall sometime creep. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 21 Hurt by the waves as they toss and swell, Tired of the things I have done so well, With only strength at the last to tell How I have loved you, throughout all time ; How I have suffered, and made no sign, True to a passion sublime divine. Husks and dregs after fruit and wine, Pearls that are cast to the hungry swine, Such is your life, my own and mine. fragment. HEART has grown so heavy with the burden of its care, That to Sorrow s gloomy portal I have fled and left no trace; But like moths from out the darkness to the light of thy loved face, My thoughts go fluttering ever from the night of my despair. 22 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. TN THE haze of the desolate desert s expanse, I am lost in a dream of my lover ; On the long distant lines of the hills bare and brown The flush of the snnset lies over. The genius of light on their tops whets his lance, And strikes at them over and over. I watch the long track running over the sand Where the swift-moving cars bore him over, Away from the lovelight which shone from my eyes, The light that has shone for no other. I reach out my arms and long for his kiss, For the lips and the eyes of my lover. What mattered the wide, silent, sand-drifted waste, Where the wind was a merciless rover; Over yucca and cactus and bayonet-bush, Where these flourish alone and no other. The desert a paradise seemed to me when I was clasped in the arms of my lover. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 23 I never again will wonder at fate; The strife of my life is all over; The hunger, the longing, the weary nnrest, Like a child on the breast of its mother; Like a child that was lost, at last I fonnd peace On the passionate heart of my lover. He will not forget me. I read in his eyes The pain that none else might discover, When he bid me good-bye with a smile on his lips, That the trnth might be known to no other. And the desert of life will bloom like a rose When I next see the face of my lover. Mohave Desert, 1893. H ALLOW-E EN. ERE with my head on your breast, Here while the crickets sing, Here let me safely rest, Dreaming of youth and spring. 24 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. Kiss from my face the care, Left there by tears and pain, Till the brightness it used to wear, Shines from my eyes again. Much have I missed in life Much has my heart been wrung, But this is a sweeter hour, Than poet has ever sung. Your face is like heaven to me, I read in your tender eyes, All that this world could be, In the radiance of Paradise. The daylight has darkened long, While safe from the world apart, I hear but the cricket s song And the beating of your dear heart. O hold me close ! in the gloom, Of the matchless hour when we meet, In the fragrant dusk of the room, To die in your arms were sweet. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 25 Tired of the world and its ways Tired of its passion and strife, And the ceaseless confusion of days Which make up the burden of life. 1894. PART SECOND. THE LATER POEMS. To THE MEMORY OF MY MOTHER. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 31 71 WINSOME maiden planned her life 4) How, when she was her hero s wife, He should be royal among men, And worthy of a diadem. Through all the devious ways of earth She sought her king ; The snows of Winter fell before She walked o er flowers of vanished Spring Into the Summer s fragrant heat ; She bent her quest, with rapid feet, Then saddened; still she journeyed down The Autumn hillsides, bare and brown, Through shadowy eves and golden morns ; And lo ! she found him crowned with thorns. 32 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. Curt. Q OMETIMES while passing through a wood land scene, When all the world looks fair and wondrous bright, Suddenly breaks a hawk s wild cruel scream, And flies a bird, pursued, in aimless flight, Into your very bosom, fluttering there, While you stroke softly all its plumage torn By beak and claw of that fierce thing of prey, Whose murderous chase has caused its an guished fright. Bearing it home, its heart-tides quiet run, Fades from its eyes the look of frightened pain, Secure it preens its feathers in the sun, And seems to be its happy self again. Night gently conies, and underneath its wing, Its head is folded in a trusting sleep, Upon its breast there is no stain of red, And yet, when dark has worn away to dawn, The bird lies dead. av THS 3*X POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 33 So I have come to you *N^ Deep in my soul an unrelenting hurt, On your fond heart lies my defenseless head, In your dear arms I ll shelter find awhile, But fade from out the sunshine of your smile, To slip away among the silent dead; But yet I bless you for this love which bans And would detain me in a world grown sweet; The healing touch of your beloved hands, That would so tenderly and deftly save And hold me, even from the solemn grave. 34 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. of Presibent Cjarfielb A. MONODY READ IN UKIAH, CALIFORNIA, MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 1881. (From the Ukiah Dispatch and Democrat.) MRS. ANNA M. REED then stepped to the front and read the following eloquent and most beautiful monody on the death of him who has gone from earth s Iscenes of toil and trouble to the realms of everlasting life, where " the wicked cease from troubling," and the <l weary be at rest " ; there where " the small and the great " are gathered. The reading was almost faultless, and the impression made was one of deep solemnity. The sentiments are those of a truly Christian heart, and the pathos therein contained awakened the tenderest emotions. ^UOLL all the bells! a great soul s passed away From clouds and shadows to the perfect day; The wasted garment that is left behind Must be to ashes and to dust consigned. The tears of suffering death has wiped away, But who shall dry the eyes of those who stay The aged mother and the faithful wife ? The children wailing for that ended life? The nation calling for the leader slain, Who long weeks languished on his bed of pain? Toll all the bells, beat low the muffled drum; In long procession mourning millions come To honor him who, in a land of laws, POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 35 By lawless hand has died, without a cause. Beside the ocean, that, with measured surge, Chanted his first and grandest funeral dirge Sublimest minstrel at the feet of God; It still sang on, while fell the mystic rod And moaned a requiem for the parting soul Soaring beyond this little world s control. No human voice may sing of him so well, Nor all the grandeur of his history tell ; But to his memory, out of many lands, Will struggling genius lift aspiring hands To him who fortune s darkest frowns withstood And kept his every aim still great and good Who reached the summit of the hill of fame With life unblemished and unsullied name A grand rebuke to every weaker heart That tempted, turneth from the better part; Reproaching those who, like the one of old, Their birthright for a "mess of pottage" sold. His mind, untrammeled, was as broad as earth ; His heart was centered at his family hearth- He made his home a type of all things seem Of which the honest Christian soul can dream, Fit emblem of that home in fairer lands 36 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. Where mansions wait, not built by human hands. The annals of the past one truth repeat Of those whose lives with greatness were re plete This fact more eloquent than all beside, Whatever their history, they all have died. Sceptre or crown, the pride of place or power To frail mortality loaned but for an hour, When death had pointed to the solemn bier, They learned the mockery of all things here ; Sowing that others might the harvest reap. Along the wayside they have gone to sleep Tired of the treasures that the years may rust, Tired of the things that are but sordid dust, Tired of the gold that thieves break through and steal, Tired of the wrongs successive years reveal The graves of such, like landmarks, strew the sod, Pointing submission to the will of God. But though the souls of men like him we mourn On waves of mystery are beyond us borne A grateful world their names perpetuate, And well may strive their deeds to emulate ; POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 37 For though they drift beyond the tides of pain We. feel indeed they have not lived in vain. A proud inheritance has this one left To all his loved ones and the land bereft His pure example may the world defy His glorious principles can never die ; Nor that so blessed and so heaven-sent, On which its authors based our government, Where earnest manhood by its simple worth, Depends not on the accident of birth By honest labor, without gold to buy, May earn and reach its stations proud and high. Oh ! let the flags droop low toll all the bells ; We lay him down amid our last farewells. Under the earth, with loving tributes dressed, Do w r e resign him to his lasting rest ; And to Columbia, still safe and free, We trust the honor of his memory ; As turns his sacred clay to kindred sod, His martyred spirit finds repose with God. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. IN THE brush fence by the lane I hear the stormbirds crying, And I know the winter rain Soon will beat where thou art lying ; For the wind and rain are near, When the stormbirds are a- cry ing. A brave bright winter rose Taps the window where I m sitting ; Its heart with beauty glows, While the autumn hours are flitting ; It taps the silent pane Of the window where I m sitting. The south wind kisses light Its petals, curved and folded, Like a picture warm and bright, Close in the heart enfolded Like a dream of love and youth, In the heart of age enfolded. And it speaks to me of thee, While the stormbirds are a-crying, POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 39 Though, thy face I cannot see, Thy memory is lying In the winter of my heart, Best, brightest, and undying. I dream of thee so dear, Before the woodfire glowing; I hear the herd-bells clear, And the cattle softly lowing ; The sounds foretell the rain, While the fire is brightly glowing. In thought I pass the lane Where stormbirds are a-crying, As to some sacred fane, To the grave where thou art lying, Through fragrant pine-wood aisles Where the sunset glow is dying ; Where one can not hear the noise Of a footfall on the mosses ; Where the pine leaves lightly poise Like a pile of russet flosses ; Where the rabbit or the squirrel, With silent footstep, crosses ; Where the brake, with quiv ring fronds, Beside the gravestone whispers 40 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. The earliest matin songs, And at eve the sadder vespers, That the night wind softly taught The leaves to chant in whispers. There so quietly you sleep, While the restless winds are sighing. In the grave so dark and deep, Nor heed the stormbirds crying, Nor the tears that fall like rain, And my heart within me dying. The rose taps on the pane, And the stormbirds are a-crying, And I soon will hear the rain Beat through the wind s low sighing, While rose leaves flutter down On the grave where thou art lying. Christmas, 1890 liJHEN, neath the stars of Bethlehem, The angels sang: " Good will to men," And " Peace on earth," a promise gave, Since man was ransomed from the grave, All earth, with sweet foreboding, smiled, Because was born a homeless child. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 41 A million spires point to the sky Where He, transfigured, took His flight, Toward that great unsleeping Eye, Watching o er death, and sin, and night, For eighteen hundred years has been His triumph most devoutly sung, O er death, and sin, and suffering, In every clime in every tongue. Yet, while the organ grandly swells Within our great cathedral walls T Chime answering chime of silvery bells, Upon the air of Christmas falls. Fair women, decked in silk and lace, Go warm and blest to softly pray, And hasten to each sacred place That gladly welcomes Christmas day. Oh, Prince of Peace, who lived and died ! Oh, why upon this holy morn, When sounds and scenes of reverence tell This was the day that Thou wert born, As from these temples of our pride The happy worshipers have filed, Why, cold and hungry, just outside, Do we still find the homeless child ? 42 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 1789-1889. T\ CROSS a century of change fe We reach our hands to thee Toward one bright and changeless thing, Thy honored memory. Along the battlements of Time No hero lived and died Whose name in song and deathless rhyme Is uttered with such pride. . It stirs the hearts of free-born men, And whispers to the slave The truths that e en make eloquent The silence of thy grave. No stain was on thy grand career, Of lust, or pride or greed ; Thy sword was never bared because Of some unhallowed creed. O Washington ! if from the realms Of perfect love and light The immortal thought of one like thee May earthward take its flight, POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 43 Look down upon this land to-day Across from sea to sea Thy great soul will be thrilled to know How much we honor thee. We ask in thy dear name to be Made faithful to our trust, And lay our wreaths of immortelles Upon thy sacred dust. PE DIED in Venice citadel of songs, To which for ages all romance belongs; At whose proud shrine the poet and the sage Have left the offering of every age. He died in Venice; but with dreaming eyes, By the Rialto and the Bridge of Sighs; And in and out a hundred water-ways, For years he glided through the perfect days. 44 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. He died in Venice; but through all he dreamed The golden sunshine of Italia streamed, Where centered all those memories that endure Around the home of Tasso and the Moor. He died in Venice, but his work was done Long years before his sands of life were run So ideal days he lived that did beseem The closing visions of a poet s dream. He died in Venice, where the lapping sea Kept time to that diviner minstrelsy With which his gifted soul through time was fraught To live eternal in the world of thought. But the worn garment that is left behind They bear away to rest among its kind, In that far land where, in the Abbey s shade, Beside congenial dust, it will be laid. A poet s love, a poet s life and death, Blest from the earliest to his latest breath; But of all things that could his age befall, To die in Venice seems the best of all. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 45 P]OT TIME, that sacred heritage to all, For in the cycles that have passed away I cannot count me one lost, idle day, Nor opportunity; to fate s most meager gift, I have been eager, heart and hand to lift. What waste could then my faithful life befall ? A cheek whose roses bloomed for eyes so blind, They did not see they were the rarest kind ; Words that the world had listened for for years, Falling unanswered on the dullest ears ; A heart worn out as fond as ever beat, Its wine of life spilled at unworthy feet; A soul so tortured, as years come and go, Its wasted treasure, God alone can know. 46 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. Retrospect is a witching mem ry my heart so oft recalls A silver cornet ringing above the palace walls, Where from a draperied window a bright young face looked down Upon my lady s garden that graced Yokaya s town. Where passion flower and jasmine diffused a fragrant balm ; Where shone the brilliant salvia and whispered pine and palm ; The willow o er the fountain, with fingers long and slim, Reached to the sparkling water that kissed the fretted brim, And many a woodland songster, awearied with the heat, Bathed in the cooling crystal and sang his matin sweet. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 47 O days, whose dawn s pink splendor waxed to a golden noon ! O perfume, song and blossom, in life s impas sioned rune ! O south wind, blowing gently the petals at my feet! O twilight, stealing over! O kisses, rare and sweet ! O little maiden, singing beside the stately hall! O silver cornet ! ringing above the palace wall ! fragment [IN AN ALBUM.] 1 WILL not wish you gold, or love, or fame Too many sins committed in their name, Sweep through the ages, and with dark surprise Their annals blast the light of artless eyes. Virtue alone can bless and crown your youth, Therefore I consecrate its days to truth. 48 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. "gertrube cmb ^fyeobore" A LAY OF YE MODERN KNIGHT AND LADY FAIR. UJITH a ring of hoofs I heard them pass, As the horses spurned the brittle grass ; A youth and maid of our modern time, On the morning side of life s sweet prime. Active and graceful, and fair and young As any that poet has ever sung ; No knight of old, with spurs bedight Could be to me a braver sight, E en though he went with plume and glove To joust for the sake of his lady love. And she what maid of olden time, Extolled in song or praised in rhyme, Compares with her, whose form and face Are perfect in their winsome grace ? They rode through the waning Summer s hours, Where the sunlight sifted in golden showers Through the woodland aisles in a solemn hush, Through the firs and pine and hazel brush, And down by the lessening river s brim Where the sedge, with fingers long and slim, POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 49 Reached to the waters, clear and cool, And dabbled in each shadowy pool. Across their path the startled deer Bounded away with a sudden fear ; The grouse, from the shade of the deepest wood, Drummed and called to their mottled brood. Again and again was softly heard The tender fretting of some bird That o er her nest, in a shy alarm, Hovered, to keep her young from harm ; The twittering quail to cover sped, The silent rabbit as quickly fled. They rode away through the pathways dim To the redwood forest s farthest rirn. While the sun sank down in the Golden West And rested awhile on the ocean s breast. Into the forest, darkly dim I dreamed of them she dreamed of him And he not on the tented field, Where there s only a life to take or yield Will this knight of mine his battle wage; But amidst the strife of this wond rous age, Where swords are rusting, while gallant men Reach nobler vict ries by tongue or pen, 50 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. Where the proudest destiny ever sought Is to rule a king in the realm of thought. And what of her? O God above! Keep her, and shield and crown with love; The only thing of this world a part That is worth the price of a woman s heart. They have ridden away through the rosy light, Ridden away from sound and sight; Fairer than ever was writ or sung To the clang of hoofs their laughter rung. Into the future dim and unknown They will go on but I am alone, Dreaming of them from the world apart Their laughter echoes against my heart. BETWEEN the roses of the May \& Looks out the radiant face of June ; Blushing, she seems afraid to cross The threshold of the Spring so soon ; While my heart echoes, beat for beat, The tread of her reluctant feet. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 51 Passionate languor in her eyes, The kiss of Summer on her mouth I love her harmony of birds I love her soft winds of the South Her cumulus clouds that grandly rise Across the sunlight of her skies. A lily with its laughing lips Greets me, and now a star-like shine Thrills me from heart to finger-tips With fragrance of the jessamine; A dove her gentle note prolongs, Answering the last late robin s songs. As here I fondly weave my dreams, While waiting face to face with June Of you, my darling beautiful As bird song, blossom and perfume Lulled on the Summer s slumberous breast, I dream, and know that I am blest. 52 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. evening s genius with his sword of flame Guards well the portal of the dying day ; His lance of light he strikes against the hills, v f . Breaks on sm4 glistening peaks its glancing ray ; He marshalls grandly on a crimson sea His cloudship navy s golden argosy, Whose flaunting banner in the sunset glow Bids brave defiance to the dark ning foe ; Who, swift advancing, o er him softly flings The purple shadow of the twilight s wings, Till war s red flush before the night wind s breath Fades out into the sullen gray of death, And star-eyed night, prevailing all too soon, Hangs out the silver sickle of the moon. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 53 (Joob fribay O-DAY the Saviour died suffered the Cruci fied, Yet could His failing eyes see the repentant s tear, Saying : " In Paradise thou shalt with Me ap pear." a Father, forgive!" He prayed; such blessed words He said, " They know not what they do." This in the face of death, This for His enemies, asked with His latest breath. Yet do His children now turn from His face and bow, Not to this lowly one; down to strange gods beside; And in their lust and pride, still is He crucified. How long will they profane His pure and sacred name? Placing His holy sign, His emblems so divine, In midst of mockery, on each unhallowed shrine? 54 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. " I thirst ! " to each poor heart, struck by some poisoned dart, Treading the narrow way ready to faint and fall, To the parched lips that cry, earth gives her bitter gall. Oh, let us kneel to-day ! kneel in the dust and pray, Close to His bleeding feet; seeking our soul s relief, InJ^deep repentant grief e en like the dying thief. Jesus, the u Prince of Peace," when shall the striving cease ? Dark roll the waves of death; can we the cur rent stem ? Seeing at last Thy face touching Thy gar ment s hem ? Forgive each idle word Thy outraged ears have heard, Each sinful act forgive; into Thy hands receive At death our sorrowing souls, that they may live. This day the Saviour died suffered the. Cruci fied; POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 55 Yet He, the suppliant, heard, and He could pity ing see, Saying: " In Paradise, to-day, thou shalt be with Me." Pass f^e? PERE, to and fro Time s wearied slave I come and go, and pass her grave; A level lane three roads divide, Where I would fain oft pause beside, I still pass by, oil either side. God help me ! As the whip of care Still urges on my lagging feet, No time to pray, no time to greet, And save me ere I quite despair. Since she is lying with the dead, I have no place to lay my head, And weep for all that I have borne. I pass her grave, nor pause to mourn; My heart alone stays with the dead. 56 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. IN MEMORY or LEON. " There s not a joy the world can give like that it takes away." the yellow Feather River Rolled its tide afar, With its fruit, an orange laden, Grew at Bidwell s Bar. There a little maid, one morning, Looking on the scene, Tree and flower and fruit were mingled In a summer dream. Steep the graded terrace steeper Was the mountain side, Where the scarlet trumpet creeper Trailed above the tide. Not more scarlet was the blossom Than her dainty lips, Like twin rose leaves, curved and folded, With exquisite tips. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 57 And so soft and brown and changing Were her tender eyes, Like a pool seen late in summer Where a shadow lies. In her hands were tiger lilies, Gathered ere the sun Had the time to kiss each chalice Golden, every one. As she gazed with gentle longing Through the lambent air, A boy came running down the hillside, Crowned with tawny hair. Blue his eyes yes, blue as heaven, And his form and face Promise bore of manly beauty, In their strength and grace. O er the garden wall he bounded, Plucking fruit and flower, Tossed them to the little maiden In a fragrant shower. 58 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. Blushing, then, she thanked him sweetly, With a glad surprise Dimpling all her smiling features, Shining from her eyes. * * ***** As she bore her treasures homeward Over hill and stream, All her pure young soul was lifted In a sunny dream. Through the future rode to meet her, On a steed so rare, A blue-eyed prince, in royal velvet, With long golden hair. x ***** * And so shrined in her fond mem ry, Lived from day to day, Crowned with curls of rippling splendor, Her own prince alway. On life s sea, uneven, drifting, Each the other s face did see Seldom; and death s fiat falling, Parted them eternally. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 59 Not one orange tree, but thousands Grace trie plains of Butte, And like sands upon the seashore Lies their golden fruit. But one tree, where miners, delving, Left but seam and scar, Crowning all the desolation In the past afar; With its fruit and creamy blossoms, Each a separate star, One no other tree can rival Grows at Bidwell s Bar. And, alas ! Time sees the passing Of all, good and fair Cold his heart low in the grave mold Lies his golden hair. 60 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. of WO THE Native Sons of the Golden West, The genius of this bright century sings, In a land where the kiss of the sun on her breast Gives life to a thousand beautiful things. Where the golden orange and scarlet fire Of fragrant pomegranate blossoms shine; Where tropical beauty and northern balm Blend in the shadows of palm and pine. To the Pioneer and the Native Son Give honor, O Land of the golden West ! One s work is over, but just begun For the other for honor and fame the quest. To the Native Sons of the Golden West The Century s Genius prophetic sings Not alone of the past, but a future blest By a countless treasure of beautiful things. September 9tb, 1890. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 61 ** o> hirst " Darling, you may always know that I am as constant as the sun." you the traveler on the desert waste, Dying of thirst, would still refuse to taste When loving hands too gladly offered up To the parched lips the overflowing cup ? This have I done ; yet with beseeching hands, Famished, my soul cries from life s desert sands. As to the mirage returns the weary eyes, Or as the lost look back to Paradise, So to thy image, from this barren way, My tortured spirit turns day after day. Ere it is yielded, duty- worn and faint, Uttering for thee its hopeless, last complaint, Can it be sin, from this far waste of pain, To crave some token of thy truth again ? 1885 62 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. of T SAILED beneath a burning sun, By coral reefs and isles of balm, Where orange groves and silvery palm By faint spice winds were gently fanned, Until I reached a tropic land. And with three thousand miles between The shores whereon two oceans fret, I bravely said, u I will forget," And there beneath the Southern Cross I crept out in the breathless night ; My heart was breaking, and the stars Shone dimly on my fevered sight Ah ! vain is change of time or place ; In heaven itself I see thy face ! POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 71 ROUND a trackless waste of sky A dead world haunts this world of ours, Upon whose pulseless breast no bird May sing in joy among the flowers Whence life and love and all have fled And left it silent, cold and dead. The only thing that still seems bright, The blessed sun s reflected light, The tender radiance so serene That falls in moonlight s silvery sheen. . As on my heart these shadowy thoughts Had left the while their sombre trace, A shadow from the weary world Fell over Luna s ghost-like face. 64 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. VOU CANNOT come to me, & But with this gift that God has given I can reach out, o er land and sea, O er barriers of earth and heaven, And touch your heart exquisitely. The bird caged with a golden wire Sings not always for those who feed, Supplying every grosser need ; Above the tumult of her fate She listens, and she hears her mate ; She dreams a dream of vanished Springs, She beats her wings, and sings, and sings The world says, u Sweetly sings" but, oh ! You hear the undertone of woe. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 65 OFT HAVE I smiled, when in yonth s halcyon time, I heard in song, or read in deathless rhyme, How gallant knights, bedight in plnnie and glove, Had met and fought, and gladly died for love. How ladies, too, and maidens wondrons fair, Had wept, and pined, and died in love s despair ; How Guinivere her crown and fame forgot, And sweet Elaine had died for Launcelot ; How Cleopatra, on the storied Nile, Did Antony from all the world beguile ; How brave Colonna mourned beside the sea Her worshiped lord, till death had set her free ; How Abelard the cloister vainly sought, And saintly Heloise her vows forgot. Oft then I smiled ; for love, in that bright hour, Seemed to my fancy but a boasted power ; But now these things, prefiguring my fate, But faintly symbol all I know and feel ; This ardent passion, time cannot abate, Since on my soul, love set his magic seal. 66 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. to Progress PRIZE POEM Awarded the gold medal by the Agricultural Association of I^ake and Mendo- cino Counties, 1887. of this grand century, and guardian of the free, Who can a tribute worthily bring from our hearts to thee ? When, neath the Star of Bethlehem, angels sang that blessed morn, " Peace on earth, good will to all men," Prog ress, thou wert also born. The ages past had never known thee, for man. unjust oppressed His fellow man ; who, suffering, saw might as- right confessed. Ask Egypt s hordes, who toiled as helpless slaves To build her kings imperishable graves ; Or Grecian art, that on each heathen fane Left us the dower of some immortal name ; Or Rome s imperial grandeur crumbling down,. If it was Progress marked their great renown. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 67 No! since the world and all its works began, Have Art and Science been the slaves of man; Degraded oft, ignoble scopes to fill, To snit the vagaries of the human will. So Freedom s smile o er Superstition s horde Accomplished more than power of fire and sword; While Christian liberty, o er land and sea, Enlightens all, and makes the poorest free; And things that were but dreams to Greece and Rome, With us to grand realities have grown. A homeless child so touched the human soul, He made the world akin one wondrous whole. His story echoes down the aisles of time, In every language told by tongues sublime; Nor will it cease till every land has heard The precious promise of His sacred word, That truth and justice shall prevail alone Where ihey are not, Progress, thou art not known. <38 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. B ARE so far apart even from ocean to ocean As a nun would tell her beads, only with more devotion, Counting the days when we met, As the chain slips over my fingers, Over each thought of you my heart caressingly lingers. The long, bright lance of the sun, Reaching away from the sunset, Touches my hair and eyes, And the lips you kissed, when you told me, Constant you d always be while the sun in his shining should hold me. The heart and the lips you love, grow warm his red rays under. Constant I know you are, though we are so far asunder. God bless and keep you so on the shore of an other ocean As a nun her beads, the hours I tell, only with more devotion. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. A SATIRE Suggested by seeing the above notice at the entrance to one of our fashionable theatres. T T 7HILE Fashion trips within the door That Thespis opens wide before her, Pleasure and Vice, and many more, Beside their goddess qnickly enter, Folly comes in, and Crime, her brother All children of the same vile mother; The courtesan, with painted charms But listen, not "the babe in arms." For Innocence there is no place In all this grand and brilliant throng; Tis well, for on its modest face Blushes must burn for scene and song; Or, if unconscious, still its cries Might through the tearful silence steal, Marring the sense of ears and eyes That drink the rantings of Camille. 70 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. Camille, sin-stamped, her life of crime Can never touch an honest heart, E en painted by the fingers fine Of sentiment and finished art, Forgive all like her, and wish them good, But ask not trne, pure womanhood To shed the sympathetic tear Over her guilty, weak career. ****** Over the rich man s palace gate Those words might well be placed quite often, When nothing can his craving sate, His greed for power, and pride of station. Some prince of style, with endless means, Whose social traits a strange transition From when he lived on u pork and beans " Now swell with limitless ambition. His wife, in fashion s trappings decked, Now leads a band of kindred spirits, Of whom she is the " great elect," To "kettledrums" and other places; Forgetting how, in earlier times, She once scoured kettles in the mines Before she hoisted o er her charms The motto of " No babes in arms." POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 7] Her fragile health, admits no more The cares that earnest woman busy ; Though grand receptions by the score Cannot fatigue, nor dancing weary. " A babe so breaks a mother s rest ! " As all her thousand friends attest, While gossiping their usual way Of husbands who are apt to stray, And have a liking" for their club, Where everybody smokes and swaggers, While telling cronies where s the rub In politics and other matters. A bad state of affairs at best, For husbands, wives, and all the rest. No sleep at Nature s fittest time The night filled with unholy revels. What wonder that their faces wear Too oft the look of heartless devils ? And men who could have loved, at rest, A baby on a mother s breast To view with interest are agog A "thing" that pets a poodle-dog. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. The eyes of faith have looked beyond This life, that even at its best Is filled with care and pain nntold Its trinniphs filled with strange unrest, And pictured an existence grand And glorious in an unknown land, Where all that pure in heart have been As little children enter in. While over all the hopeless dead, Entering at last the gates of doom, That sentence unrevoked and dread, God s fiat traces in the gloom, To meet and blast despairing eyes That turn away from Paradise And read above Hell s wild alarms : " There enter here no babes in arms." ~ - > Of TH1 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 73 of California 7y\ ECCA of my lost youth, ( Between thy shrine and my sad heart, The years with pallid faces stand And hold us far apart. I reached aspiring hands Hung ring toward thy "mount of light"; God filled them, measuring not my plans He doeth all things right. His tasks appointed well, To idle heart-break not allied, Gave nature as my "Alma Mater " And duty for my guide. But echoes of thy fame Waft by on wings of memory, And day by day my constant thoughts Like pilgrims go to thee. 74 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. of (jeneral grant A MONODY Read by the Author at the Memorial Exercises at Ukiah, Mendocino County, California, August 8, 1885. ULJHO HAS not stood within the chilling gloom Where some bright pathway ended in the tomb, And from its portal could no longer trace A future blank, for want of one loved face ? Then, dazed and broken, blindly faltering back, Resumed the round of life s repellent track? What family circle has not broken been By this decree, provoked by man s first sin? This awful mystery; whose fingers cold Can touch impartially the young or old, Point out the fairest for the fatal dart, And still the beating of the noblest heart. No pride of station and no boast of power Prolongs a life for even one short hour. The cottager or claimant of a throne, On God s great mercy both depend alone; No other power, at last, endures to save, And all distinctions level in the grave. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 75 Toil s implement the monarch s royal crown, At that dark threshold are alike laid down. We come as beggars from the Master s hand, And at life s close, we still as suppliant s stand Oh ! may His mercy, like a mantle, fall At that dread hour, in charity, on all. What, though our burdens be of pain and care, So great they seem, more than the heart can bear; Be patient still, we all will lay them soon Down by the portals of the quiet tomb; And in the silence of that awful shade, How many a fault to nothingness will fade ! The hoarded treasures of the countless years Have been resigned before that shrine of tears. For there, each heart has said a last u good-bye/ And broken there is every earthly tie And when we hold the wreaths that triumph gave, We all turn back to lay them on some grave. ^yi****** What meed of praise what tribute shall we pay To him the nation meets to mourn to-day ? Who danger s gauntlet oft in safety ran; 76 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. Who lived a hero, but to die a man. He was but human but his faults were few; His life was honest, and his purpose true. .Blame not that noble one, that fortune led His feet where war had made the pathway red His country called; he did her grief assuage, And saved America her heritage. Where w^rong has been, alone, God knoweth best, And there alone His punishment will rest. But no just thought confuses now with him That awful scourging of a people s sin. Over his coffin, sorrowing to-day, Bow d are the vet rans of the blue and gray. Over his grave, unworthy strife will cease, And North and South clasp hands in lasting peace. The flag, whose honor he- has saved, hangs low; And all the land is draped in signs of woe; And many a cheek with honest tears is wet, Now, that at last his star of life is set. But though the flowers we bring be doomed to fade, And loving hands that weave them shall be laid POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 77 To moulder back into the common clay, Forgotten like the tributes of this day He leaves one thing, that will not be forgot, To live immortal in the people s thought. When liberty, enlightening the world, All false usurpers from their thrones has hurled ; When creeds no more perplex fanatic fools, Who live by rote, and worship God by rules ; When parties die and prejudice is dead And ignorance and in their narrow stead, A people live, by truth and reason led A Christian people o er the whole earth spread Then will the greatness of this man be known; Though back to dust the monumental stone Has crumbled, his memory will shine Throughout the ages of all coming time. So fear not now, within the Nation s sight, This glorious epitaph of him to write : He leaves, emblazoned on the scroll of fame, The matchless splendor of a deathless name. 78 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. T DO begrudge to Time this lip s fond red, This heart s warm pulse, which beat with hope and truth Through all the years, while lingered yet my youth, By love s assurance most divinely fed. Into the face of pain I bravely looked, Nor shrank before the horrid face of death. While I could hope to meet thy constant eyes, For me life s desert seemed a paradise. But O my darling ! I am sad to-night ; Upon the edge of duty and of care The finer fabrics of my life are worn ; My ardent being feels a strange despair That time prevails; and e en for thy dear sake, The heart that was so brave will surely break. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 79 Q Cf? QT>m i n S Portrait of a I<ines dedicated to the hard-working and poorly-paid artists of California. N\ Y PRETTY little Gypsy, you ve caused me (> bitter woe ; But how, my little Gypsy, no man snail ever know. For I shall never tell it, and you will never speak, And so, between the two of us, the secret we will keep. Your eyes are dark and solemn, beneath each raven tress, As though you sought to question the cause of my distress ; And so, although you ve brought me a grief I shall not name, I like to sit and watch you, and I love you all the same. You have never told my fortune, but you com fort and you bless, For your eyes, with tender glances, are like a mute caress, 80 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. As with fawn-like grace and freedom you stand and look at me, Your lovely arm entwining the sturdy green wood tree. And I thank a kindly Providence that in this age of greed, When every selfish worldling makes gain his only creed, There are a few brave spirits who, in the sordid strife, Catch and hold, with pen or pencil, the lovelier things of life. A bit of charming landscape, an eye alight with love A thought that inspiration has sought and found, above The plane, where many thousands toil and strive till life has flown, To build up for the thankless, their piles of brick and stone. The hand whose cunning caught you, from fancy or from fact, Whose brush on canvas fixed you, with genius and with tact, POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 81 My gratitude shall follow along Time s check ered flight, For to me my little Gypsy will bring life -long delight. (jlabbest CTZHE GLADDEST heart in all the world is 1 mine And yet, like showers that fall aslant the shine Of April suns, and, in a tearful way, Deny the radiant splendor of the day, This sobbing breath these tears upon my cheek, Give sad denial to the words I speak. For in the years betwixt this and the grave, And that long rest its solemn silence brings, While shines for us the blest and constant sun, Through Autumn s sere and flower-encircled Springs, There waits no day that we may call our own Upon this sin-cursed earth the slave of time When I may answer you and tell you why The gladdest heart in all the world is mine. 82 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. TN THE moonlight, o er the sidewalk, long the shadows fall, And trace so restlessly their shape upon the con vent wall; While my heart, with all its longing to that city far and dim, Turns to-night, despite of distance is again with him. And upon his face I see the shadow of the years, As he might, upon my own, read the traces of my tears And still nearer than the nearest I am with him in my thought; Does my spirit seek his presence, wild with yearning, thus unsought ? No; and so it reaches, in the night so sweet and still, Over rock and plain and meadow, o er valley r land and hill, Over all the years of hunger, for the blessing of his smile. And unspeaking lingers near his side a little while. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 83 Once, the tide of life all thrilling, in a Summer s night, Clasped a moment in his arms, I touched the borders of delight; But I turned, my being shaken, and with falter ing, aimless feet, Fled for years the love forbidden, still so strangely sweet. And those waves of feeling, breaking through the cruel years, Leave my heart a hopeless wreck, beneath the current of my tears ; Yet it turns with all its yearning to that city far and dim, And to-night, all else forgetting, is again with him. 84 POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. this strange garment that my soul has worn Has burned away beneath the fitful flashes Of that wild fever that no cure has known, Until the heart consumes to coldest ashes " Life s fitful fever," burning with such loss Of thought and feeling earth s diviner treasure, So many precious things among the dross, Their value would a life-time take to measure. When " dust to dust " a strange voice softly says, And sadly drop the valley clods above me, While telling o er the events of my days, Amid the tears of those who think they love me ; If they could know the seeming endless pain That I had passed beyond and died, They would not, surely, wish me back again, Where all that s Christ-like still is crucified. POEMS OF ANNA MORRISON REED. 85 That priceless debt the world cannot repay A child s lost faith in all its vain assurance, The hope that turns toward a brighter day, Through months of toil, and patience, and endurance. This is the sum, too oft, through changing years, Of sacrifice no words may fitly tell ; And so, despite the most regretful tears, We sleep, "after life s fitful fever," well. I have so suffered thus a glad relief Seems possible ; and now, as time is fleeting, I look where death stands, just beyond my grief, And know that there no pulse of pain is beating; Where sin, ingratitude, and pride and lust, That have so marred the frail thing I am wearing, Lying beside that poor handful of dust, Are left at last, while I go on uncaring. We offer special facilities to authors desirous of publishing books* Our establishment is the largest on the Coast, and work is done complete under one roof, We submit estimates, A: THE HICKSxJUDD CO, Printers Publishers Bookbinders 23 First Street, San Francisco, CaL or TOT UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Due two weeks after date, 001 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY