A 
 
 Little of 
 This 
 
 and 
 
 That
 

 
 A Little of 
 
 This 
 and That 
 
 By 
 
 Ben W. Edelman 
 Los Anpeles, Cal.
 
 9 ej 
 
 in 
 
 TO MY 
 L YEL A 
 
 498444
 
 Just You 
 
 There's a smile upon your Angel face, 
 
 And a twinkle in your eye; 
 And the golden sunbeams on your hair 
 
 Are more Heavenly than the sky. 
 There's merriment in your laughter, 
 
 There's love within your heart, so true; 
 You are the sunshine of my life 
 
 Because you are you just you. 
 
 The rose it blooms then fades away, 
 
 And its leaves fall one by one; 
 And all that's left upon the stem 
 
 Are the many thorns thereon. 
 But you are a rose more beautiful 
 
 Than the fairest that ever grew; 
 And your smiles will live forever 
 
 Because you are you just you.
 
 A Tragedy 
 
 T'was midnight. 
 
 The clock in the church tower 
 
 Was striking the hour. 
 
 The village was asleep, 
 
 Clothed in a mantle of snow. 
 
 At the foot of the winding pathway 
 
 That leads to the creek 
 
 The old mill looms up in the darkness; 
 
 While across and beyond, 
 
 Almost hidden in the tall trees, 
 
 Stands an old hut. 
 
 A gentle breeze springs up, 
 
 Rustling the branches for a moment, 
 
 And dies away. 
 
 Suddenly a light flashes out from a door 
 
 Of one of the cabins in the village. 
 
 For an instant it wavers, 
 
 Then shrinks into a narrow streak 
 
 And disappears. 
 
 Just then a shadow seems to move. 
 
 Cautiously it creeps along down the slope. 
 
 It stops, . 
 
 And for a moment hides itself 
 
 In the shrubbery that lines the pathway. 
 
 All is silent. 
 
 It moves again and reaches the old hut. 
 
 Through a break in the clouds 
 
 The shadow reveals itself 
 
 In the form of a man. 
 
 He peers through a broken window. 
 
 A fiendish smile crosses his face. 
 
 He makes no sound as he raises the window 
 
 And slowly creeping in, 
 
 He gazes at his victim 
 
 Lying asleep before him. 
 
 Hastily drawing his murderous weapon, 
 
 He plunges it deep into the heart 
 
 Of the sleeper. 
 
 A piercing shriek rents the air, 
 
 Followed by another, and another. 
 
 A groan, a moan 
 
 AND THE OLD HOG IS DEAD.
 
 Friendship 
 
 I'd like to be the kind of friend 
 That you would have me be; 
 
 I'd like to be the kind of friend 
 That you would like to see. 
 
 I'd like to mean as much to you 
 As the sun does to the day, 
 
 And strew the flowers along your path 
 To gladden you on your way. 
 
 I'd like to say those nice things 
 And do something big for you, 
 
 To keep the gray from out your hair- 
 Your eyes so bright and blue. 
 
 I'd like to give you all the joys 
 
 Before you pass away, 
 For there's fragrance in your memory 
 
 Like a beautiful summer day. 
 
 I'd like you to be happy, 
 And when your work is done 
 
 That your heart be filled with music, 
 And God had written the song. 
 
 In fact, if I but one wish had, 
 This wish, then, I would make: 
 
 I'd like to be your best of friends, 
 That friendship never break.
 
 Disillusioned 
 
 T'was a Sunday evening 
 
 The end of a hot, sultry day. 
 
 They were seated beneath the trees 
 
 In the village park. 
 
 A gentle breeze stirred the leaves. 
 
 Across the street 
 
 Stood the little brick church. 
 
 Its doors and windows were open 
 
 To cool the temperature within. 
 
 The choir had finished singing 
 
 The closing hymn, 
 
 And the notes of the organ 
 
 Were slowly dying away. 
 "Wasn't it Heavenly?" she murmured. 
 
 Just then a cricket chirped in the grass. 
 "Yes," he said, 
 
 And they say they do it 
 
 With their hind legs.
 
 The Painting 
 
 There's a painting in a frame of gold 
 
 I hold in memory dear; 
 Oftimes I gaze upon it, 
 
 Oftimes I shed a tear. 
 Its colors retain their beauty 
 
 Thru all the years of time 
 The painting is a picture, 
 
 Of mother dear o' mine.
 
 My Sweetheart 
 
 Have you seen her? She, my sweetheart, 
 Handsomest of all the women. 
 Eyes that sparkle like the sunrise. 
 Blue eyes that twinkle 
 Like twin stars in heaven 
 On the gleaming of the water, 
 Through the splendor of the moonlight. 
 
 Hair so soft, with golden tresses, 
 Golden, as the shadows 
 From the sunrise to the sunset 
 Shadows of the golden poppy. 
 
 Lips of crimson and of laughter, 
 As the laughter of the brooklet 
 Through the forests and the rivers 
 Young and beautiful, My Sweetheart. 
 
 Comes She, from a land far distant, 
 From a land of legends and traditions, 
 Where the Western sky 
 Dips beneath the rolling waters 
 Waters of the Great Pacific. 
 
 O'er the mountains, green in summer, 
 O'er the mountains, white in winter. 
 Mountain groves, with singing pine trees 
 And the odor of the forests. 
 
 O'er the mountains into valleys 
 Valleys, covered with green meadows, 
 With silver streams, and water courses. 
 You can trace them 
 By the rushing of the Springtime. 
 
 Meadows rich with wheat and cornfield, 
 Rich with Orange, Grape in cluster; 
 With the fragrance of the wildflower, 
 And the poppy and the prarie lily, 
 Meadows sloping toward the sea.
 
 My Sweetheart 
 
 (Continued) 
 
 In the twilight of an evening 
 When the land was in the autumn, 
 When the trees were painted scarlet, 
 And the leaves were stained with yellow, 
 Came she forth my lovely Sweetheart. 
 And they named, and called her Lyela, 
 Called her Lyela, Star of Evening. 
 
 Out of childhood into maiden 
 Grew my lovely Star of Evening 
 Grew up like the pure white lily 
 Like a fair and tender lily, 
 With the beauty of the Moonlight, 
 With the beauty of the Starlight, 
 Grew the lovliest of all lilies. 
 
 All our songs we sang together, 
 Songs of dreams, and songs of laughter; 
 Songs of love, and songs of longing, 
 And our hearts were filled with gladness, 
 Filled our hearts with joy and cheer. 
 
 And the years have flown onward, 
 Through the roses in the summer 
 Through the rainclouds in the winter. 
 Years of joy, years of pleasure, 
 Years of happiness, and of splendor. 
 
 Hand in hand we'll walk together 
 Through life's journey, 
 To the portals of the sunset 
 To the Kingdom of the blessed 
 To the Home of God, in Heaven. 
 
 New York, 1920.
 
 The East and the West 
 
 Oh the desolate land of the Empire State! 
 
 Frozen State. 
 
 The land of ice and snow, 
 
 With its lightning and thunder, 
 
 And storms without number, 
 
 And the sleet, 
 
 And the cold winds that blow. 
 
 This is the land of the East 
 
 Frozen East. 
 
 The land with its shivering poor, 
 
 Whose hearts are like lead, 
 
 And whose hopes 
 
 Have all fled, 
 
 And grim deaths talks in thru their door. 
 
 Oh for the land of the Golden State- 
 Beautiful State. 
 
 The land of the orange and wine, 
 With its gardens, and flowers, 
 And vine-covered bowers 
 The glorious land of sunshine. 
 This is the land of the West- 
 Beautiful West 
 The land of the olive and lime, 
 Where the lilacs and rose, 
 And the wild poppy grows, 
 The land of Summer-time.
 
 Little Nell 
 
 I met her on the street one day 
 
 She was so cold and wet; 
 And as she gazed into my eyes, 
 
 Seemed glad that we had met. 
 
 I put her gently in my car, 
 And took her home with me; 
 
 She cuddled close within my arms, 
 And was happy as could be. 
 
 Her hair was of a golden brown, 
 
 Her teeth so pearly white; 
 Her eyes they sparkled like the stars, 
 
 And she was of medium height. 
 
 She'd always go along with me 
 
 When I went out to ride; 
 A happy smile was on her face 
 
 As she sat by -my side. 
 
 You wonder who my friend may be? 
 
 Your mind I will dispel; 
 She's only a PUP of the mongrel breed, 
 
 And I christened her, LITTLE NELL.
 
 Lyela 
 
 My California Rose 
 
 In my reverie of memories 
 
 There's a face that comes to me. 
 With ruby lips and golden hair, 
 
 And a voice of melody. 
 There's a little vine-clad cottage, 
 
 Where the blue Pacific flows, 
 With a garden of sweet scented flowers 
 
 Where bloomed my California Rose. 
 
 Her eyes were filled with laughter, 
 
 Her heart was blithe and gay, 
 As she romped in this garden of Eden 
 
 All through the live long day. 
 There were jasamines and bluebells in blossom 
 
 Along the hedge where the wild poppy grows 
 She's my sweetheart, the fairest of flowers, 
 
 And I call her my California Rose. 
 
 You may sing of the red rose of passion, 
 Of the white rose that breathes words of love; 
 
 But My Rose in this garden of flowers 
 Is an Angel from Heaven above.
 
 Beatae Memoriae 
 
 I worshiped him, 
 
 I idolized him. 
 
 To me, He was 
 
 A man above all men. 
 
 None knew him 
 
 But to love him, 
 
 None knew him 
 
 But to do him honor. 
 
 He was a Holy man 
 
 Pure in heart, 
 
 Pure in mind, 
 
 Sincere in his faith, 
 
 Loyal to its precepts. 
 
 He knew 
 
 But the one righteous path. 
 
 He was a Godlike man. 
 
 I worshiped him 
 
 I idolized him 
 
 MY FATHER.
 
 Lonesome 
 
 The Moon it hides its rays of splendor, 
 
 And casts its shadows here for me; 
 The world seems dreary, I shed a tear, 
 
 And weep in silence for love of thee. 
 
 The wild thrush twitters in the hedge, 
 
 The nightingale is singing, too, 
 The gentle breeze they all seem to whisper your name 
 
 I guess I'm lonesome, sweetheart dear, for you. 
 
 The orange blossoms are in bloom. 
 
 But droop and wither for want of care; 
 
 The roses have lost their sweet perfume, 
 And somehow there's a sadness in the air. 
 
 The mocking-bird is silent in his song. 
 
 The sky it lacks its azure of blue; 
 There's a longing deep within my heart 
 
 I know I'm lonesome, sweetheart dear, for you.
 
 A Dream 
 
 
 I dreamt a dream. 
 
 I lay as one dead. 
 
 Then, in a vision 
 
 I beheld my soul 
 
 Wing its flight upwards 
 
 On a cloud of rainbow tinting 
 
 Through Starland. 
 
 I gazed about. 
 A strange, irresponsible happiness 
 
 Possessed me 
 
 Like an overpowering essence. 
 
 The splendor of the beautiful sunshine, 
 
 And the ecstacy of the keen atmosphere, 
 
 Was enchanting. 
 
 A phantasy of colors dazzled me. 
 
 I saw phantom figures 
 
 With spread wings 
 
 Flying without effort 
 
 Or conscious movement of any sort 
 
 Simply lifted by an unknown wave. 
 
 "What place is this?" 
 
 I asked of them, 
 
 And they answered 
 
 THIS IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN.
 
 A Dream 
 
 (Continued) 
 
 Suddenly there were heard sounds 
 As of the clatter of hoofs of horses 
 
 On cobbled streets; 
 The rushing and shouting of voices, 
 
 And the tramp of many feet. 
 
 "From whence come these sounds?" I asked. 
 
 And they answered, 
 
 "Come, look. 
 
 See you that spot 
 
 Where all the Spirits of the world below 
 
 Are gathered? 
 
 THAT SPOT IS HELL." 
 
 "Why," I asked, 
 
 Do these Spirits 
 
 That look so wise, so brave, so daring 
 
 Cause this tumult?" 
 
 And they said, 
 
 "Because 
 
 PROHIBITION 
 
 Goes into effect at once, 
 
 And they seek the juice 
 
 That Cheers 
 
 And makes Merry." 
 
 "Enough," I cried, 
 
 And thus awakened 
 
 I rushed out into the open. 
 
 "Where goest thou?" 
 
 Someone asked. 
 "I seek the juice," I shouted; 
 "I AM GOING TO HELL."
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below.
 
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