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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Little Window, by Jean M. Snyder
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Little Window
+
+Author: Jean M. Snyder
+
+Release Date: September 16, 2007 [EBook #22637]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE WINDOW ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Sam W. and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from scans of public domain material produced by
+Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    A LITTLE WINDOW
+
+    JEAN M. SNYDER
+
+
+
+
+_A LITTLE WINDOW_
+
+VERSES BY
+
+JEAN M. SNYDER
+
+
+    "_In good sooth, my masters this is no door, yet it is a
+    little window that looketh upon a great world._"
+
+
+FOSTER & STEWART
+PUBLISHING CORPORATION
+BUFFALO, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+All but two of the verses in this volume originally appeared in The
+Christian Science Monitor, and are reprinted by permission.
+
+The two exceptions are "Joy" (page 46) and "Triumph" (page 49), which
+are also copyrighted and reprinted by permission.
+
+
+
+
+TABLE OF CONTENTS
+
+
+    Stars                                        7
+
+    The Brook                                    8
+
+    In Eden Valley                               9
+
+    Benediction                                 10
+
+    A Moment                                    11
+
+    The Month of Moonlight                      12
+
+    Wings                                       13
+
+    Heart's Ease                                14
+
+    The Sign Reads--"To Troutbeck"              15
+
+    I, Too                                      16
+
+    In Early Evening                            17
+
+    Fearless Winging                            18
+
+    Whimsey                                     19
+
+    Remembering                                 20
+
+    Aloofness                                   21
+
+    Listening                                   22
+
+    September's End                             23
+
+    Content                                     24
+
+    Rhythm                                      25
+
+    Contrast                                    26
+
+    Surety                                      27
+
+    Guests                                      28
+
+    Storm                                       30
+
+    A Reminder                                  31
+
+    Buffalo Harbor                              32
+
+    From a Train Window                         34
+
+    Scotland                                    35
+
+    Friends                                     36
+
+    A Poem of Color                             37
+
+    Dream                                       38
+
+    Escape                                      39
+
+    Question                                    40
+
+    When You Were a Little Girl                 42
+
+    Flight                                      44
+
+    Petit Trianon                               45
+
+    Joy                                         46
+
+    Twilight Song Service                       48
+
+    Triumph                                     49
+
+
+
+
+_A Little Window_
+
+
+
+
+_Stars_
+
+(_At Locheven_)
+
+
+    Have you walked in the woods
+    When twilight wraps a veil of mist
+    Around the gray-green trees
+    In early spring?
+    It is then the snow-white trillium
+    Gleam like stars from the carpet
+    Of last year's leaves:
+    And tall white violets glow
+    Like clouds of nebulæ along the path.
+    And flecked, like points of light
+    In the quiet pools of water
+    Among the gray-green boles,
+    Are the stars of heaven.
+
+
+
+
+_The Brook_
+
+(_Westfield, N. Y._)
+
+
+    Curling and humming its cadences,
+    It slips past me under the rim of the gorge,
+    As I peer down through the scarlet sumacs.
+    Sparkling in the sunlight,
+    Shimmering in the moonlight,
+    On and on it goes,
+    A silvery sheet of song.
+
+
+
+
+_In Eden Valley_
+
+
+    I saw
+
+    A spray of orange berries etched against the silver of a stone wall:
+
+    A scarlet vine encircling a golden sapling;
+
+    On the ground, a carmine robe that had slipped from the shoulders of
+        a maple.
+
+    A sweep of meadow,
+    A curve of bronzy hill,
+    A glow of ruby and amethyst
+    And the evergreens making deep quiet spots in it.
+
+
+
+
+_Benediction_
+
+
+    Silent, I stood in the forest--
+    Lured by the liquid song
+    Of a thrush.
+    Clear, it was, then fading
+    And softly echoed,
+    As he slipped into the embrace
+    Of the night.
+    So pure, so holy, was his song
+    That my heart was calmed
+    And I was filled
+    With serenity.
+
+
+
+
+_A Moment_
+
+
+    The beaten silver waters cut
+    By the prow of our ship,
+    Send off stars of phosphorous
+    To vie with the stars overhead.
+    Nothing but sky and the starlight,
+    And a stretch of limitless sea,
+    Nothing but peace and dominion,--
+    Silence, immensity.
+
+
+
+
+_The Month of Moonlight_
+
+
+    Moonlight is not cold!
+    It is tender and benignant,
+    Softening all it touches,
+    Hiding the roughness,
+    Covering the coarseness,
+    With a glow of silver splendor
+    And a lucent flood
+    Of beauty.
+
+
+
+
+_Wings_
+
+
+    There come to the flowers
+    In my garden
+    Butterflies, golden-spotted tawny,
+    Blue-spangled and sulphur;
+    Glistening dragon-flies, zooming bumble bees,
+    Droning honey-bees.
+
+    Softly whirring comes
+    The vivid humming-bird,
+      Sipping, sipping all day long.
+    At nightfall I hear the flutter of the
+    Luna's wings, as
+    She caresses the velvet cheek
+    Of the lily.
+
+
+
+
+_Heart's Ease_
+
+(_Locheven_)
+
+
+    I love to tread a winding path
+    Through the woods,
+    And, world weary, pause upon it.
+    The trees bend and enclose me
+    In brooding calm;
+    I feel the presence of Deity.
+
+    I hear the cadence of the stillness--
+    A stillness so alive.
+    The whisper of the leaves,
+    The song of the brook over golden stone
+    The whir of a bird's wings;
+    And I know the presence of Deity.
+
+
+
+
+_The Sign Reads--"To Troutbeck"_
+
+(_English Lakes_)
+
+
+    An upcurving lane, hedged high,
+    An ancient stile,
+    A rambling path,
+    A brook,
+    And musk,--
+    Golden bells of fragrance,
+    Fusing all the odors
+      Of English earth.
+
+
+
+
+_I, Too_
+
+
+    Robin, robin,
+    Shouting your song,
+    Your throat swelling
+    With joy!
+    Yes, I hear, I know
+    What you say.
+    For I, too,
+    Would sing
+    My praise and
+    Gratitude
+    To God!
+
+
+
+
+_In Early Evening_
+
+
+    When I drive through
+    The villages and the countryside
+    In early evening,
+    And see people sitting in gardens
+    Or at their doors
+    In peace and contentment,
+    I long to stop and speak to them.
+    They might tell me of a loved one
+    Doing some great work
+    In a big city,
+    Or of a deep sorrow,
+    And I might say a word
+    To help lighten it.
+    They might show me treasured china
+    Or a bit of lace, handmade;
+    Once some one did.
+    And I could talk with the children.
+    I long to do this,
+    But it always seems
+    That there is a hurry
+    To get to the next place.
+
+
+
+
+_Fearless Winging_
+
+
+    Into Niagara's abyss of blackness,
+    Into its cavernous chaos,
+    I saw birds wing.
+    Sweeping down
+    Through the mist
+    Of its mighty waters,
+    Undaunted by the roar,
+    Unmindful of the churning,
+    Of the terror of its power,
+    On sure pinions
+    And happy in flight
+    They dipped and soared and
+    Mounted, upward and upward.
+    Into the light
+    And the rainbow
+    Above them.
+
+
+
+
+_Whimsey_
+
+
+    In spring my hemlock
+    Dances gayly in flounces
+    Of jade green lace.
+
+    In summer moonlight
+    When a soft wind stirs
+    She dances with a delicate sapling.
+    They sway and bend in the wind,
+    And bow to the trees encircling.
+    I hear the laughter of their leaves.
+
+    In autumn she dances
+    With beech leaves in her hair,
+
+    But in winter I have found her still,
+    Crouching under a blanket of snow.
+
+
+
+
+_Remembering_
+
+(_Locheven_)
+
+
+    There is a spot in the woods
+    That is "forever England" to me.
+    A clump of beech trees
+    Steeped in silence,
+    Whose shade and solitude
+    Shuts me in with my dreams.
+    The sunshine slants through
+    Their limpid leaves
+    And turns them to translucent jade,
+    Just as it does in an English spring.
+    Violets are there, and I pluck them,
+    Remembering the bluebells
+    In the beech wood
+    At Sevenoaks.
+
+
+
+
+_Aloofness_
+
+
+    Down among the docks and elevators and railroad tracks
+    On the way out of the city,
+    I pass a tiny cottage so rickety
+    That its neighbors crowd close
+    To hold it up. But there it is,
+    Its one window shining clean, and glowing
+    With a plant in a tin can and pure white curtains.
+    Hanging over the fence and filling the whole place
+    With its beauty and almost hiding the cottage
+    Is a peach tree in full bloom.
+    In the doorway I glimpse a girl
+    In a purple dress.
+    But what matters the smoke and the noise and the fog
+    To the peach tree?
+
+
+
+
+_Listening_
+
+(_Eden, N. Y._)
+
+
+    Atop Aries hill am I,
+    The lone flyer, throbbing
+    Against the sunset
+    Is higher.
+    He sees more than I,
+    But he cannot hear
+    What I hear.
+
+    I hear the wood-thrush
+    And the veery,
+    Answer each other.
+    I hear the voices
+    Of happy children
+    And the baying of hounds
+    Float up from the valley;
+    The chirp of the cricket
+    At my feet, and, then,
+    The silence of nightfall.
+
+    He sees more than I,
+    But he cannot hear
+    What I hear.
+
+
+
+
+_September's End_
+
+
+    In the ash tree
+    There is a soft rustling,
+    Lingering, like
+    A silken whisper,
+    Quite different
+    Than sound the other trees;
+    As if the bronzy leaves
+    Had much to say
+    Before they part,
+    And were loath
+    To bid farewell.
+
+
+
+
+_Content_
+
+(_Westfield, N. Y._)
+
+
+    When I linger in my garden
+    And see black swallowtails hovering
+    Over white phlox and orange zinnias,
+    And morning glories, in a heavenly blue mass
+    Surge upward on their trellis;
+    When I watch the scintillating humming-bird
+    Sip from the trumpet blossoms across my doorway,
+    I feel no urge of travel to behold
+    More of earth's beauty.
+    Here in my little garden I have it all--
+    And here I am content.
+
+
+
+
+_Rhythm_
+
+
+    Firelight, and strains of a symphony
+      Wafting in.
+    Outside, bare trees
+      Against leaden skies
+      Weave their own music
+      That throbs with the rhythm
+      Of the orchestra.
+    The wind moans, and
+      Strong, black branches
+      Sway slowly,
+      Mark the beat,
+      Then stop.
+    The wind hums,
+      Delicate, lacelike tops
+      Quiver and ripple
+      With the quick response
+      Of the violins.
+    With the shriek of the wind
+    They writhe and toss,
+      Measuring the crescendo
+      Of the brasses.
+
+
+
+
+_Contrast_
+
+
+    In an old world palace,
+    Room after room
+    Is filled with treasures--
+    Old masters, jewels, glass.
+    Yet all I remember
+    Is the stark whiteness of a gardenia
+    Blowing against a wall,
+    And the fairy music of a fountain
+    In the patio.
+
+
+
+
+_Surety_
+
+
+    I needed the dawn, but
+    My eyes beheld only clouds
+    And a valley filled with mists
+    And a mountain shutting out the east.
+    I needed the dawn, so
+    I could but wait.
+    Surely,
+    Slowly
+    Through the clouds
+    The light came,
+    Like a presence
+    Dispelling mist and cloud:
+    Even the mountain
+    Could not hide it.
+    My eyes beheld all clear,
+    And in the roseate glow,
+    Like a diamond,
+    Hung the morning star.
+
+
+
+
+_Guests_
+
+
+    There was emptiness
+    When the birds left in the fall.
+    But to fill it came late butterflies,
+    Dawdling flocks of brilliant things
+    In clouds of scintillating beauty,
+    Covering every bush and flower.
+    As silently as they came did they disappear
+    And in their place came the music
+    Of the katydid and the cricket.
+    Day and night the cheerful songs
+    Of these tiny insects were our company.
+
+    An early blizzard
+    Buried every green blade and bent to earth
+    Great trees and slender saplings
+    Under a thick weight of snow.
+    To our door came the thrushes
+    That we thought were gone,--
+    Shy thrushes, that had turned their backs
+    Upon us in summer and slipped
+    Into the depth of the woods,--
+    And whitethroats and tree sparrows,
+    Unafraid, waiting for food.
+    Even now the stillness is alive
+    With the memory of these friendly folk.
+
+
+
+
+_Storm_
+
+
+    When the storm rushes upon the deep woods,
+    It lets down curtains of mist
+    And sheets of rain, that drip
+    Crystal beads among the trees.
+    Way above, the branches lash and moan
+    And weave. Below, it is still,
+    Still as the undersea.
+    Soft fern and feathery bracken
+    Loom through the mist
+    Like branching coral,
+    And drifting leaves float down
+    Like snowy fishes,
+    Lazily moving.
+
+
+
+
+_A Reminder_
+
+
+    Down beneath the office windows
+    In a chestnut clump,
+    A robin sings all day long,
+    "Joyously, joyously!"
+
+    Above the whir of traffic,
+    The bands and the sirens,
+    Floats his song all day,
+    "Joyously, joyously!"
+
+    The lilting song brings to me,
+    The peace of field and merry brook,
+    And I myself, sing all day, too,
+    "Joyously, joyously!"
+
+
+
+
+_Buffalo Harbor_
+
+
+    Some say that it is ugly and hurry on through,
+    But I love these impressive symbols
+    Of man's ingenuity.
+    Here are the great grain elevators, looming
+    In tones and shades of grey, veiled
+    In the clouds of black smoke from the
+    Tugs at their feet;
+    Puffing engines shifting strings of cars,
+    And huge ships nosed in against each other
+    Or riding at anchor, and canal boats
+    In straight lines at the docks.
+    Farther on, across a slip, there are
+    Mountains of ore in reds and brown,
+    And pile upon pile of gravel and slag,
+    And sand in soft saffron hues,
+    Heaped up for the steel mills to devour;
+    Those gigantic mills whose tall stacks
+    Belch varicolored gases, against
+    The deep blue of the inner harbor,
+    Where the waves pound in
+    Over the sea wall.
+    All this cupped by the towering
+    City skyscrapers, and outlined against
+    The peaceful Eden hills,
+    Miles to the south.
+    And when I wait for the big bridge to lift
+    For a freighter with its important tugs,
+    I pull out of line, off to the side,
+    And let the other cars go by,
+    And look, and look.
+    I never seem to get enough.
+
+
+
+
+_From a Train Window_
+
+
+    Once, before dawn,
+    In the Mohawk valley,
+    Dots of light flashed
+    And floated off
+    Into the blackness,
+    Like sparks of flame
+    Blasted from the engine.
+    Then more and more,
+    Mile after mile,
+    Almost never ending--
+    Millions of fire-flies,
+    Like tiny torches,
+    Dancing over swamp lands
+    In the night air.
+
+
+
+
+_Scotland_
+
+(_The Highlands_)
+
+
+    Mountains,
+      Veiled in shifting vapors,
+    Mountains,
+      Bleak, foreboding,
+    Mountains,
+      Stark and overpowering.
+    Torrents,
+      Tumbling, crashing,
+      Dragging boulders
+      In their rushing,
+    Lakes,
+      Forlorn and lonesome
+    Heather
+      In magenta patches,
+    Sheep, and cattle
+      Black and somber,
+    Winding roads
+      Through massive passes.
+    Rain,
+    Sun,
+    Flowers,
+    Mist,
+    Rain,--
+      Loved Scotland!
+
+
+
+
+_Friends_
+
+(_At Lake Windermere, England_)
+
+
+    Across the lake
+    Lying calm and black
+    Under the night,
+    Floats the wail
+    Of the pipes:
+    And beyond, loom
+    Langdale Pikes, dim,
+    Shadowy sentinels.
+    Over all, the stars,
+    Like friends, faithful
+    And changeless.
+
+
+
+
+_A Poem of Color_
+
+
+    Stretched on the ground beneath the Hawthorn,
+    The perfume of its blossoms mingled with falling petals, floats
+        down to me.
+    Winged things alight there on the blanket of fragrance above,--a
+        bunting, blue as the sky, a warbler, all gold, an Admiral, wings
+        banded with crimson,
+    Make a poem of color of the Hawthorn tree.
+
+
+
+
+_Dream_
+
+(_Stratford-on-Avon_)
+
+
+    One warm June evening
+    I sat in the churchyard
+    Of old Trinity. I sat there for hours
+    On an ancient stone, forgetting time.
+    The Avon, as silent as the centuries it had known,
+    Glided past, carrying me on with its memories.
+    From the lush meadow across the river came the bleating of lambs,
+    And from the limes floated the song of blackbirds.
+    All about the scent of roses hung heavy.
+    Then, over the roof of Trinity, the moon arose.
+    Shakespeare saw the Avon, thus, and loved it,--
+    Winding on in the moonlight.
+
+
+
+
+_Escape_
+
+
+    How simple life can be!
+    A cabin,
+    Mountains, afar and near,
+    A brook,
+    Deer, blowing at night.
+    Perchance,
+    Rain on the roof,
+    Then,
+    The loved books,
+    A fire on the hearth,
+    And endless time
+    To think.
+    How simple life is!
+
+
+
+
+_Question_
+
+(_Locheven_)
+
+
+    Would you choose
+    The formal garden
+    With lilac hedges
+    And vistas of velvet lawn
+    And marble fountain
+    Shining pool and
+    Marble bench o'er-topped
+    By drooping willow;
+    Massed color in trim beds,
+    And stately garden house
+    Festooned with wisteria
+    And guarded by strutting peacock?
+
+              Or,
+
+    The wood's garden,
+    The wild garden,
+    Tumbling over itself
+    With pale Jacks, and violets--
+    Blue and gold, and
+    Baby ferns, tucked
+    Within sheltering gnarled roots!
+    And mossy mounds, starred
+    With Trillium and Crane's bill;
+    And patches of lavender sunlight,
+    (No, it's wild Phlox,
+    In the flickering light)--
+    And fire-flies and flapping owls,
+    At twilight, and furry rabbits,
+    Bobbing ahead up the path.
+
+    Which would you choose?
+
+
+
+
+_When You Were a Little Girl_
+
+
+    When you were a little girl
+    And you went driving with Grandfather,
+    If it rained, didn't he braid up the horse's tail
+    Binding it round with a bright silver band,
+    And fasten on the side curtains of the carriage
+    And pull the rubber "boot" over the dashboard?
+    And do you remember how the horse's feet
+    Went "Plop, plop," in and out of the mud,
+    And you felt the mist blow in on your face
+    When you managed to peer out over the curtain?
+    And didn't you snuggle up close to Grandfather
+    And hug the Fairy Tale book
+    Which he was going to listen to
+    When the rain stopped and you lunched
+    Beside the road?
+
+    Didn't your Grandfather always drive over
+    To the cheese factory, and bring out
+    The fresh cheese curd to you?
+    Can't you remember the taste, even now?
+    And sometimes, when it stormed hard, and thundered
+    And lightened, and the crashing made the horse
+    Want to run, wouldn't your Grandfather always say:
+    "Steady there, now, boy! Steady, boy!" so gently,
+    That neither you nor the horse were afraid after that
+    Because Grandfather said everything was all right,
+    And he knew. And wasn't your Grandmother
+    Waiting in the doorway, watching a bit anxiously,
+    Until you turned into the yard?
+            Mine was.
+
+
+
+
+_Flight_
+
+
+    So still lay the city,
+    So very quietly it slept,
+    That from high in the west
+    I heard the honking of geese
+    Winging southward.
+    Yearningly I listened
+    As they swept over,
+    Yearningly I cried--
+    O wild things, that I
+    Could fly as do you!
+    Then out of the silent darkness,
+    Like a flying star,
+    Flashed a plane
+    With its skyborne humans.
+    And all of a sudden
+    I remembered that I, too,
+    Could take to wings.
+
+
+
+
+_Petit Trianon_
+
+(_Versailles, France_)
+
+
+    When the long drawn notes of a bird's song
+    Echoes through the trees,
+    It brings to remembrance the songs
+    Of the blackbirds at Petit Trianon:
+    Chiming, reverberating, floating down
+    From the tops of the tall cedars
+    As from an invisible, celestial choir.
+
+    Nor can I forget the ages-old wisteria
+    Clambering over gray palace walls,
+    Nor the gamut of color in the azaleas there--
+    Pink, orange, cerise, yellow--
+    In pale green foliage.
+
+
+
+
+_Joy_
+
+
+    When your heavens are as brass
+    And joy has fled, and
+    Every door is shut,
+    Do not forget the one
+    That opens inward--
+    The door of your heart,
+    Whose handle is on the inside
+    And which only you can open.
+    Go out through that door
+    And find one whose skies
+    Are darker than yours,
+    Whose burden is heavier;
+    Bring him back with you
+    Into your heart.
+
+    There can you cleanse him with love,
+    And clothe him with garments of truth,
+    And put the ring of his unity
+    With God upon his hand;
+    There feed him with the word,
+    And let him go.
+    Then will your heavens be
+    As radiant light,
+    And your happiness and joy
+    Such as never were
+    On land or sea.
+
+
+
+
+_Twilight Song Service_
+
+(_"B.A." Chestnut Hill, Mass._)
+
+
+    In the deepening twilight there floats
+    From the chapel above, the loved hymns of healing--
+    Hymns of comfort, of courage, welling up from grateful hearts
+    And bringing reassurance of God's power
+    To one who listens below in silent prayer and praise.
+    Great peace of God, be with us all!
+    Great peace of God encompass us!
+    Speak to the waves tonight, Father, that they stand.
+    Stretch forth Thy hand and stay their power,
+    Calm them, that they overwhelm not.
+    For Thy voice is "mightier than the noise of many waters,
+    Yea, than the mighty waves of the sea."
+    This Thou canst do, O my God.
+
+
+
+
+_Triumph_
+
+
+    These are they, O God,
+    Who came out of great tribulation
+    And have washed their robes white.
+    Oh, holy triumph of those
+    Who have endured the fire
+    And the tempest's rage and, delivered,
+    Stand exalted in this very hour,
+    Purged, sanctified, and satisfied.
+    These are they who have surrendered
+    All the vanities of mortal selfhood,
+    And serve Thee
+    Day and night in Thy temple,
+    Lifting others to behold
+    The tearless, ageless, deathless reality
+    Of Thy glory.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+Minor typographic errors have been corrected without note.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Little Window, by Jean M. Snyder
+
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Little Window, by Jean M. Snyder
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Little Window
+
+Author: Jean M. Snyder
+
+Release Date: September 16, 2007 [EBook #22637]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE WINDOW ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Sam W. and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from scans of public domain material produced by
+Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+<h1 style="padding-top: 3em; padding-bottom: 1.5em;">A LITTLE WINDOW</h1>
+
+<h2 style="padding-bottom:3em;">JEAN M. SNYDER</h2>
+
+
+<p class="center" style="font-size: x-large"><i>A LITTLE WINDOW</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">VERSES BY</p>
+
+<p class="center" style="padding-bottom: 3em;">JEAN M. SNYDER</p>
+
+<p class="center" style="padding-top: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 1.5em;">&ldquo;<i>In good sooth, my masters this is
+no door, yet it is a little window
+that looketh upon a great world.</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="center" style="padding-top: 3em; padding-bottom: 3em;">FOSTER &amp; STEWART<br />
+PUBLISHING CORPORATION<br />
+<span class="smcap">Buffalo, New York</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p>All but two of the verses in this volume
+originally appeared in The Christian Science
+Monitor, and are reprinted by permission.</p>
+
+<p>The two exceptions are &ldquo;Joy&rdquo; (page
+<a href="#Page_46">46</a>) and &ldquo;Triumph&rdquo; (page <a href="#Page_49">49</a>), which
+are also copyrighted and reprinted by
+permission.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="60%" summary="Table of Contents">
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Stars</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">The Brook</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">In Eden Valley</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Benediction</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">A Moment</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">The Month of Moonlight</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Wings</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Heart&rsquo;s Ease</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">The Sign Reads&mdash;&ldquo;To Troutbeck&rdquo;</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">I, Too</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">In Early Evening</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Fearless Winging</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Whimsey</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Remembering</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Aloofness</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Listening</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">September&rsquo;s End</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Content</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Rhythm</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Contrast</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Surety</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Guests</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Storm</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">A Reminder</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Buffalo Harbor</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">From a Train Window</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Scotland</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Friends</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">A Poem of Color</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Dream</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Escape</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Question</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">When You Were a Little Girl</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Flight</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Petit Trianon</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Joy</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Twilight Song Service</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">Triumph</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h1 style="padding-bottom: 3em;"><i>A Little Window</i></h1>
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg&nbsp;7]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Stars</i></h2>
+
+<h3>(<i>At Locheven</i>)</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Have you walked in the woods<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When twilight wraps a veil of mist<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Around the gray-green trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In early spring?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is then the snow-white trillium<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gleam like stars from the carpet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of last year&rsquo;s leaves:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tall white violets glow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like clouds of nebul&aelig; along the path.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And flecked, like points of light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the quiet pools of water<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among the gray-green boles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are the stars of heaven.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg&nbsp;8]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>The Brook</i></h2>
+
+<h3>(<i>Westfield, N. Y.</i>)</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Curling and humming its cadences,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It slips past me under the rim of the gorge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As I peer down through the scarlet sumacs.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sparkling in the sunlight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shimmering in the moonlight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On and on it goes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A silvery sheet of song.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg&nbsp;9]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>In Eden Valley</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I saw<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A spray of orange berries etched against the silver of a stone wall:<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A scarlet vine encircling a golden sapling;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On the ground, a carmine robe that had slipped from the shoulders of a maple.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A sweep of meadow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A curve of bronzy hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A glow of ruby and amethyst<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the evergreens making deep quiet spots in it.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg&nbsp;10]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Benediction</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Silent, I stood in the forest&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lured by the liquid song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of a thrush.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clear, it was, then fading<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And softly echoed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As he slipped into the embrace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So pure, so holy, was his song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That my heart was calmed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I was filled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With serenity.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg&nbsp;11]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>A Moment</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The beaten silver waters cut<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the prow of our ship,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Send off stars of phosphorous<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To vie with the stars overhead.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nothing but sky and the starlight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a stretch of limitless sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nothing but peace and dominion,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Silence, immensity.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg&nbsp;12]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>The Month of Moonlight</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Moonlight is not cold!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is tender and benignant,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Softening all it touches,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hiding the roughness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Covering the coarseness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a glow of silver splendor<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a lucent flood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of beauty.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg&nbsp;13]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Wings</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There come to the flowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In my garden<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Butterflies, golden-spotted tawny,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blue-spangled and sulphur;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Glistening dragon-flies, zooming bumble bees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Droning honey-bees.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Softly whirring comes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The vivid humming-bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sipping, sipping all day long.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At nightfall I hear the flutter of the<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Luna&rsquo;s wings, as<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She caresses the velvet cheek<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the lily.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg&nbsp;14]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Heart&rsquo;s Ease</i></h2>
+
+<h3><i>(Locheven)</i></h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I love to tread a winding path<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the woods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, world weary, pause upon it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The trees bend and enclose me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In brooding calm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I feel the presence of Deity.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I hear the cadence of the stillness&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A stillness so alive.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The whisper of the leaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The song of the brook over golden stone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The whir of a bird&rsquo;s wings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I know the presence of Deity.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg&nbsp;15]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>The Sign Reads&mdash;&ldquo;To Troutbeck&rdquo;</i></h2>
+
+<h3>(<i>English Lakes</i>)</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">An upcurving lane, hedged high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An ancient stile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A rambling path,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A brook,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And musk,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Golden bells of fragrance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fusing all the odors<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of English earth.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg&nbsp;16]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>I, Too</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Robin, robin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shouting your song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your throat swelling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With joy!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes, I hear, I know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What you say.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I, too,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would sing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My praise and<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gratitude<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To God!<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg&nbsp;17]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>In Early Evening</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When I drive through<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The villages and the countryside<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In early evening,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And see people sitting in gardens<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or at their doors<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In peace and contentment,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I long to stop and speak to them.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They might tell me of a loved one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doing some great work<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In a big city,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or of a deep sorrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I might say a word<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To help lighten it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They might show me treasured china<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or a bit of lace, handmade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Once some one did.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I could talk with the children.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I long to do this,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But it always seems<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That there is a hurry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To get to the next place.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg&nbsp;18]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Fearless Winging</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Into Niagara&rsquo;s abyss of blackness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into its cavernous chaos,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saw birds wing.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweeping down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the mist<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of its mighty waters,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Undaunted by the roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unmindful of the churning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the terror of its power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On sure pinions<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And happy in flight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They dipped and soared and<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mounted, upward and upward.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the rainbow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above them.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg&nbsp;19]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Whimsey</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In spring my hemlock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dances gayly in flounces<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of jade green lace.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In summer moonlight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When a soft wind stirs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She dances with a delicate sapling.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They sway and bend in the wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bow to the trees encircling.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I hear the laughter of their leaves.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In autumn she dances<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With beech leaves in her hair,<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But in winter I have found her still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Crouching under a blanket of snow.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg&nbsp;20]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Remembering</i></h2>
+
+<h3>(<i>Locheven</i>)</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There is a spot in the woods<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That is &ldquo;forever England&rdquo; to me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A clump of beech trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Steeped in silence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose shade and solitude<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shuts me in with my dreams.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sunshine slants through<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their limpid leaves<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And turns them to translucent jade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Just as it does in an English spring.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Violets are there, and I pluck them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remembering the bluebells<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the beech wood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At Sevenoaks.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg&nbsp;21]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Aloofness</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Down among the docks and elevators and railroad tracks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the way out of the city,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I pass a tiny cottage so rickety<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That its neighbors crowd close<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hold it up. But there it is,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its one window shining clean, and glowing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a plant in a tin can and pure white curtains.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hanging over the fence and filling the whole place<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With its beauty and almost hiding the cottage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is a peach tree in full bloom.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the doorway I glimpse a girl<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In a purple dress.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But what matters the smoke and the noise and the fog<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the peach tree?<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg&nbsp;22]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Listening</i></h2>
+
+<h3>(<i>Eden, N. Y.</i>)</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Atop Aries hill am I,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lone flyer, throbbing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against the sunset<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is higher.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sees more than I,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he cannot hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What I hear.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I hear the wood-thrush<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the veery,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Answer each other.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I hear the voices<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of happy children<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the baying of hounds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Float up from the valley;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The chirp of the cricket<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At my feet, and, then,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The silence of nightfall.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He sees more than I,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he cannot hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What I hear.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg&nbsp;23]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>September&rsquo;s End</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the ash tree<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is a soft rustling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lingering, like<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A silken whisper,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quite different<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than sound the other trees;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if the bronzy leaves<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had much to say<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before they part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And were loath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To bid farewell.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg&nbsp;24]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Content</i></h2>
+
+<h3>(<i>Westfield, N. Y.</i>)</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When I linger in my garden<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And see black swallowtails hovering<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over white phlox and orange zinnias,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And morning glories, in a heavenly blue mass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Surge upward on their trellis;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When I watch the scintillating humming-bird<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sip from the trumpet blossoms across my doorway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I feel no urge of travel to behold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More of earth&rsquo;s beauty.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here in my little garden I have it all&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And here I am content.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg&nbsp;25]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Rhythm</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Firelight, and strains of a symphony<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wafting in.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Outside, bare trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Against leaden skies<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Weave their own music<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That throbs with the rhythm<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the orchestra.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wind moans, and<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Strong, black branches<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sway slowly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mark the beat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Then stop.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wind hums,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Delicate, lacelike tops<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Quiver and ripple<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With the quick response<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the violins.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the shriek of the wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They writhe and toss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Measuring the crescendo<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of the brasses.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg&nbsp;26]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Contrast</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In an old world palace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Room after room<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is filled with treasures&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Old masters, jewels, glass.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet all I remember<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is the stark whiteness of a gardenia<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blowing against a wall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the fairy music of a fountain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the patio.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg&nbsp;27]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Surety</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I needed the dawn, but<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My eyes beheld only clouds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a valley filled with mists<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a mountain shutting out the east.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I needed the dawn, so<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I could but wait.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Surely,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slowly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the clouds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The light came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a presence<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dispelling mist and cloud:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even the mountain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could not hide it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My eyes beheld all clear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in the roseate glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a diamond,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hung the morning star.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg&nbsp;28]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Guests</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There was emptiness<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the birds left in the fall.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But to fill it came late butterflies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dawdling flocks of brilliant things<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In clouds of scintillating beauty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Covering every bush and flower.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As silently as they came did they disappear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in their place came the music<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the katydid and the cricket.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Day and night the cheerful songs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of these tiny insects were our company.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg&nbsp;29]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">An early blizzard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Buried every green blade and bent to earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great trees and slender saplings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under a thick weight of snow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To our door came the thrushes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That we thought were gone,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shy thrushes, that had turned their backs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon us in summer and slipped<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the depth of the woods,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And whitethroats and tree sparrows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unafraid, waiting for food.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even now the stillness is alive<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the memory of these friendly folk.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg&nbsp;30]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Storm</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When the storm rushes upon the deep woods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It lets down curtains of mist<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sheets of rain, that drip<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Crystal beads among the trees.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Way above, the branches lash and moan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And weave. Below, it is still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still as the undersea.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soft fern and feathery bracken<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loom through the mist<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like branching coral,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And drifting leaves float down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like snowy fishes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lazily moving.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg&nbsp;31]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>A Reminder</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Down beneath the office windows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In a chestnut clump,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A robin sings all day long,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Joyously, joyously!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Above the whir of traffic,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bands and the sirens,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Floats his song all day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Joyously, joyously!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The lilting song brings to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The peace of field and merry brook,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I myself, sing all day, too,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Joyously, joyously!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg&nbsp;32]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Buffalo Harbor</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Some say that it is ugly and hurry on through,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I love these impressive symbols<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of man&rsquo;s ingenuity.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here are the great grain elevators, looming<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In tones and shades of grey, veiled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the clouds of black smoke from the<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tugs at their feet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Puffing engines shifting strings of cars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And huge ships nosed in against each other<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or riding at anchor, and canal boats<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In straight lines at the docks.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Farther on, across a slip, there are<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mountains of ore in reds and brown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pile upon pile of gravel and slag,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sand in soft saffron hues,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heaped up for the steel mills to devour;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg&nbsp;33]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Those gigantic mills whose tall stacks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Belch varicolored gases, against<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The deep blue of the inner harbor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the waves pound in<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over the sea wall.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All this cupped by the towering<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">City skyscrapers, and outlined against<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The peaceful Eden hills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Miles to the south.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when I wait for the big bridge to lift<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For a freighter with its important tugs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I pull out of line, off to the side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let the other cars go by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And look, and look.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I never seem to get enough.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg&nbsp;34]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>From a Train Window</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Once, before dawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the Mohawk valley,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dots of light flashed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And floated off<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the blackness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like sparks of flame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blasted from the engine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then more and more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mile after mile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Almost never ending&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Millions of fire-flies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like tiny torches,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dancing over swamp lands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the night air.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg&nbsp;35]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Scotland</i></h2>
+
+<h3>(<i>The Highlands</i>)</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Mountains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Veiled in shifting vapors,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mountains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bleak, foreboding,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mountains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stark and overpowering.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Torrents,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Tumbling, crashing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dragging boulders<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In their rushing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lakes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Forlorn and lonesome<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heather<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In magenta patches,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sheep, and cattle<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Black and somber,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Winding roads<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through massive passes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mist,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rain,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Loved Scotland!<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg&nbsp;36]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Friends</i></h2>
+
+<h3>(<i>At Lake Windermere, England</i>)</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Across the lake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lying calm and black<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Floats the wail<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the pipes:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And beyond, loom<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Langdale Pikes, dim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shadowy sentinels.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over all, the stars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like friends, faithful<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And changeless.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg&nbsp;37]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>A Poem of Color</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Stretched on the ground beneath the Hawthorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The perfume of its blossoms mingled with falling petals, floats down to me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Winged things alight there on the blanket of fragrance above,&mdash;a bunting, blue as the sky, a warbler, all gold, an Admiral, wings banded with crimson,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Make a poem of color of the Hawthorn tree.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg&nbsp;38]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Dream</i></h2>
+
+<h3>(<i>Stratford-on-Avon</i>)</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">One warm June evening<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I sat in the churchyard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of old Trinity. I sat there for hours<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On an ancient stone, forgetting time.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Avon, as silent as the centuries it had known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Glided past, carrying me on with its memories.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the lush meadow across the river came the bleating of lambs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from the limes floated the song of blackbirds.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All about the scent of roses hung heavy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, over the roof of Trinity, the moon arose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shakespeare saw the Avon, thus, and loved it,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Winding on in the moonlight.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg&nbsp;39]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Escape</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How simple life can be!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A cabin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mountains, afar and near,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A brook,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deer, blowing at night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perchance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rain on the roof,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The loved books,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A fire on the hearth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And endless time<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To think.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How simple life is!<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg&nbsp;40]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Question</i></h2>
+
+<h3>(<i>Locheven</i>)</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Would you choose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The formal garden<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With lilac hedges<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And vistas of velvet lawn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And marble fountain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shining pool and<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Marble bench o&rsquo;er-topped<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By drooping willow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Massed color in trim beds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stately garden house<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Festooned with wisteria<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And guarded by strutting peacock?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">Or,<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg&nbsp;41]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The wood&rsquo;s garden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wild garden,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tumbling over itself<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With pale Jacks, and violets&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blue and gold, and<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Baby ferns, tucked<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within sheltering gnarled roots!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mossy mounds, starred<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Trillium and Crane&rsquo;s bill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And patches of lavender sunlight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(No, it&rsquo;s wild Phlox,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the flickering light)&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fire-flies and flapping owls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At twilight, and furry rabbits,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bobbing ahead up the path.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Which would you choose?<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg&nbsp;42]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>When You Were a Little Girl</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When you were a little girl<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And you went driving with Grandfather,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If it rained, didn&rsquo;t he braid up the horse&rsquo;s tail<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Binding it round with a bright silver band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fasten on the side curtains of the carriage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pull the rubber &ldquo;boot&rdquo; over the dashboard?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And do you remember how the horse&rsquo;s feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Went &ldquo;Plop, plop,&rdquo; in and out of the mud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And you felt the mist blow in on your face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When you managed to peer out over the curtain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And didn&rsquo;t you snuggle up close to Grandfather<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hug the Fairy Tale book<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which he was going to listen to<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the rain stopped and you lunched<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beside the road?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg&nbsp;43]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Didn&rsquo;t your Grandfather always drive over<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the cheese factory, and bring out<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fresh cheese curd to you?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can&rsquo;t you remember the taste, even now?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sometimes, when it stormed hard, and thundered<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lightened, and the crashing made the horse<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Want to run, wouldn&rsquo;t your Grandfather always say:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Steady there, now, boy! Steady, boy!&rdquo; so gently,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That neither you nor the horse were afraid after that<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Because Grandfather said everything was all right,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he knew. And wasn&rsquo;t your Grandmother<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Waiting in the doorway, watching a bit anxiously,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until you turned into the yard?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Mine was.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg&nbsp;44]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Flight</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So still lay the city,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So very quietly it slept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That from high in the west<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I heard the honking of geese<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Winging southward.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yearningly I listened<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As they swept over,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yearningly I cried&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O wild things, that I<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could fly as do you!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then out of the silent darkness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a flying star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flashed a plane<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With its skyborne humans.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all of a sudden<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I remembered that I, too,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could take to wings.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg&nbsp;45]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Petit Trianon</i></h2>
+
+<h3>(<i>Versailles, France</i>)</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When the long drawn notes of a bird&rsquo;s song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Echoes through the trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It brings to remembrance the songs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the blackbirds at Petit Trianon:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chiming, reverberating, floating down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the tops of the tall cedars<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As from an invisible, celestial choir.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nor can I forget the ages-old wisteria<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clambering over gray palace walls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor the gamut of color in the azaleas there&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pink, orange, cerise, yellow&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In pale green foliage.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg&nbsp;46]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Joy</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When your heavens are as brass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And joy has fled, and<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Every door is shut,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Do not forget the one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That opens inward&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The door of your heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose handle is on the inside<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And which only you can open.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Go out through that door<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And find one whose skies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are darker than yours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose burden is heavier;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bring him back with you<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into your heart.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg&nbsp;47]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">There can you cleanse him with love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And clothe him with garments of truth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And put the ring of his unity<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With God upon his hand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There feed him with the word,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let him go.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then will your heavens be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As radiant light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And your happiness and joy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such as never were<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On land or sea.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg&nbsp;48]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Twilight Song Service</i></h2>
+
+<h3>(<i>&ldquo;B.A.&rdquo; Chestnut Hill, Mass.</i>)</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the deepening twilight there floats<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the chapel above, the loved hymns of healing&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hymns of comfort, of courage, welling up from grateful hearts<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bringing reassurance of God&rsquo;s power<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To one who listens below in silent prayer and praise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great peace of God, be with us all!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great peace of God encompass us!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Speak to the waves tonight, Father, that they stand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stretch forth Thy hand and stay their power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Calm them, that they overwhelm not.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Thy voice is &ldquo;mightier than the noise of many waters,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, than the mighty waves of the sea.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This Thou canst do, O my God.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg&nbsp;49]</a></span></p>
+<h2><i>Triumph</i></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">These are they, O God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who came out of great tribulation<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And have washed their robes white.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, holy triumph of those<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who have endured the fire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the tempest&rsquo;s rage and, delivered,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stand exalted in this very hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Purged, sanctified, and satisfied.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These are they who have surrendered<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All the vanities of mortal selfhood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And serve Thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Day and night in Thy temple,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lifting others to behold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tearless, ageless, deathless reality<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Thy glory.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<div class="bbox">
+<p><b>Transcriber's Note</b></p>
+
+<p>Minor typographic errors have been corrected without note.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Little Window, by Jean M. Snyder
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@@ -0,0 +1,1411 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Little Window, by Jean M. Snyder
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Little Window
+
+Author: Jean M. Snyder
+
+Release Date: September 16, 2007 [EBook #22637]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE WINDOW ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Sam W. and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from scans of public domain material produced by
+Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    A LITTLE WINDOW
+
+    JEAN M. SNYDER
+
+
+
+
+_A LITTLE WINDOW_
+
+VERSES BY
+
+JEAN M. SNYDER
+
+
+    "_In good sooth, my masters this is no door, yet it is a
+    little window that looketh upon a great world._"
+
+
+FOSTER & STEWART
+PUBLISHING CORPORATION
+BUFFALO, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+All but two of the verses in this volume originally appeared in The
+Christian Science Monitor, and are reprinted by permission.
+
+The two exceptions are "Joy" (page 46) and "Triumph" (page 49), which
+are also copyrighted and reprinted by permission.
+
+
+
+
+TABLE OF CONTENTS
+
+
+    Stars                                        7
+
+    The Brook                                    8
+
+    In Eden Valley                               9
+
+    Benediction                                 10
+
+    A Moment                                    11
+
+    The Month of Moonlight                      12
+
+    Wings                                       13
+
+    Heart's Ease                                14
+
+    The Sign Reads--"To Troutbeck"              15
+
+    I, Too                                      16
+
+    In Early Evening                            17
+
+    Fearless Winging                            18
+
+    Whimsey                                     19
+
+    Remembering                                 20
+
+    Aloofness                                   21
+
+    Listening                                   22
+
+    September's End                             23
+
+    Content                                     24
+
+    Rhythm                                      25
+
+    Contrast                                    26
+
+    Surety                                      27
+
+    Guests                                      28
+
+    Storm                                       30
+
+    A Reminder                                  31
+
+    Buffalo Harbor                              32
+
+    From a Train Window                         34
+
+    Scotland                                    35
+
+    Friends                                     36
+
+    A Poem of Color                             37
+
+    Dream                                       38
+
+    Escape                                      39
+
+    Question                                    40
+
+    When You Were a Little Girl                 42
+
+    Flight                                      44
+
+    Petit Trianon                               45
+
+    Joy                                         46
+
+    Twilight Song Service                       48
+
+    Triumph                                     49
+
+
+
+
+_A Little Window_
+
+
+
+
+_Stars_
+
+(_At Locheven_)
+
+
+    Have you walked in the woods
+    When twilight wraps a veil of mist
+    Around the gray-green trees
+    In early spring?
+    It is then the snow-white trillium
+    Gleam like stars from the carpet
+    Of last year's leaves:
+    And tall white violets glow
+    Like clouds of nebulae along the path.
+    And flecked, like points of light
+    In the quiet pools of water
+    Among the gray-green boles,
+    Are the stars of heaven.
+
+
+
+
+_The Brook_
+
+(_Westfield, N. Y._)
+
+
+    Curling and humming its cadences,
+    It slips past me under the rim of the gorge,
+    As I peer down through the scarlet sumacs.
+    Sparkling in the sunlight,
+    Shimmering in the moonlight,
+    On and on it goes,
+    A silvery sheet of song.
+
+
+
+
+_In Eden Valley_
+
+
+    I saw
+
+    A spray of orange berries etched against the silver of a stone wall:
+
+    A scarlet vine encircling a golden sapling;
+
+    On the ground, a carmine robe that had slipped from the shoulders of
+        a maple.
+
+    A sweep of meadow,
+    A curve of bronzy hill,
+    A glow of ruby and amethyst
+    And the evergreens making deep quiet spots in it.
+
+
+
+
+_Benediction_
+
+
+    Silent, I stood in the forest--
+    Lured by the liquid song
+    Of a thrush.
+    Clear, it was, then fading
+    And softly echoed,
+    As he slipped into the embrace
+    Of the night.
+    So pure, so holy, was his song
+    That my heart was calmed
+    And I was filled
+    With serenity.
+
+
+
+
+_A Moment_
+
+
+    The beaten silver waters cut
+    By the prow of our ship,
+    Send off stars of phosphorous
+    To vie with the stars overhead.
+    Nothing but sky and the starlight,
+    And a stretch of limitless sea,
+    Nothing but peace and dominion,--
+    Silence, immensity.
+
+
+
+
+_The Month of Moonlight_
+
+
+    Moonlight is not cold!
+    It is tender and benignant,
+    Softening all it touches,
+    Hiding the roughness,
+    Covering the coarseness,
+    With a glow of silver splendor
+    And a lucent flood
+    Of beauty.
+
+
+
+
+_Wings_
+
+
+    There come to the flowers
+    In my garden
+    Butterflies, golden-spotted tawny,
+    Blue-spangled and sulphur;
+    Glistening dragon-flies, zooming bumble bees,
+    Droning honey-bees.
+
+    Softly whirring comes
+    The vivid humming-bird,
+      Sipping, sipping all day long.
+    At nightfall I hear the flutter of the
+    Luna's wings, as
+    She caresses the velvet cheek
+    Of the lily.
+
+
+
+
+_Heart's Ease_
+
+(_Locheven_)
+
+
+    I love to tread a winding path
+    Through the woods,
+    And, world weary, pause upon it.
+    The trees bend and enclose me
+    In brooding calm;
+    I feel the presence of Deity.
+
+    I hear the cadence of the stillness--
+    A stillness so alive.
+    The whisper of the leaves,
+    The song of the brook over golden stone
+    The whir of a bird's wings;
+    And I know the presence of Deity.
+
+
+
+
+_The Sign Reads--"To Troutbeck"_
+
+(_English Lakes_)
+
+
+    An upcurving lane, hedged high,
+    An ancient stile,
+    A rambling path,
+    A brook,
+    And musk,--
+    Golden bells of fragrance,
+    Fusing all the odors
+      Of English earth.
+
+
+
+
+_I, Too_
+
+
+    Robin, robin,
+    Shouting your song,
+    Your throat swelling
+    With joy!
+    Yes, I hear, I know
+    What you say.
+    For I, too,
+    Would sing
+    My praise and
+    Gratitude
+    To God!
+
+
+
+
+_In Early Evening_
+
+
+    When I drive through
+    The villages and the countryside
+    In early evening,
+    And see people sitting in gardens
+    Or at their doors
+    In peace and contentment,
+    I long to stop and speak to them.
+    They might tell me of a loved one
+    Doing some great work
+    In a big city,
+    Or of a deep sorrow,
+    And I might say a word
+    To help lighten it.
+    They might show me treasured china
+    Or a bit of lace, handmade;
+    Once some one did.
+    And I could talk with the children.
+    I long to do this,
+    But it always seems
+    That there is a hurry
+    To get to the next place.
+
+
+
+
+_Fearless Winging_
+
+
+    Into Niagara's abyss of blackness,
+    Into its cavernous chaos,
+    I saw birds wing.
+    Sweeping down
+    Through the mist
+    Of its mighty waters,
+    Undaunted by the roar,
+    Unmindful of the churning,
+    Of the terror of its power,
+    On sure pinions
+    And happy in flight
+    They dipped and soared and
+    Mounted, upward and upward.
+    Into the light
+    And the rainbow
+    Above them.
+
+
+
+
+_Whimsey_
+
+
+    In spring my hemlock
+    Dances gayly in flounces
+    Of jade green lace.
+
+    In summer moonlight
+    When a soft wind stirs
+    She dances with a delicate sapling.
+    They sway and bend in the wind,
+    And bow to the trees encircling.
+    I hear the laughter of their leaves.
+
+    In autumn she dances
+    With beech leaves in her hair,
+
+    But in winter I have found her still,
+    Crouching under a blanket of snow.
+
+
+
+
+_Remembering_
+
+(_Locheven_)
+
+
+    There is a spot in the woods
+    That is "forever England" to me.
+    A clump of beech trees
+    Steeped in silence,
+    Whose shade and solitude
+    Shuts me in with my dreams.
+    The sunshine slants through
+    Their limpid leaves
+    And turns them to translucent jade,
+    Just as it does in an English spring.
+    Violets are there, and I pluck them,
+    Remembering the bluebells
+    In the beech wood
+    At Sevenoaks.
+
+
+
+
+_Aloofness_
+
+
+    Down among the docks and elevators and railroad tracks
+    On the way out of the city,
+    I pass a tiny cottage so rickety
+    That its neighbors crowd close
+    To hold it up. But there it is,
+    Its one window shining clean, and glowing
+    With a plant in a tin can and pure white curtains.
+    Hanging over the fence and filling the whole place
+    With its beauty and almost hiding the cottage
+    Is a peach tree in full bloom.
+    In the doorway I glimpse a girl
+    In a purple dress.
+    But what matters the smoke and the noise and the fog
+    To the peach tree?
+
+
+
+
+_Listening_
+
+(_Eden, N. Y._)
+
+
+    Atop Aries hill am I,
+    The lone flyer, throbbing
+    Against the sunset
+    Is higher.
+    He sees more than I,
+    But he cannot hear
+    What I hear.
+
+    I hear the wood-thrush
+    And the veery,
+    Answer each other.
+    I hear the voices
+    Of happy children
+    And the baying of hounds
+    Float up from the valley;
+    The chirp of the cricket
+    At my feet, and, then,
+    The silence of nightfall.
+
+    He sees more than I,
+    But he cannot hear
+    What I hear.
+
+
+
+
+_September's End_
+
+
+    In the ash tree
+    There is a soft rustling,
+    Lingering, like
+    A silken whisper,
+    Quite different
+    Than sound the other trees;
+    As if the bronzy leaves
+    Had much to say
+    Before they part,
+    And were loath
+    To bid farewell.
+
+
+
+
+_Content_
+
+(_Westfield, N. Y._)
+
+
+    When I linger in my garden
+    And see black swallowtails hovering
+    Over white phlox and orange zinnias,
+    And morning glories, in a heavenly blue mass
+    Surge upward on their trellis;
+    When I watch the scintillating humming-bird
+    Sip from the trumpet blossoms across my doorway,
+    I feel no urge of travel to behold
+    More of earth's beauty.
+    Here in my little garden I have it all--
+    And here I am content.
+
+
+
+
+_Rhythm_
+
+
+    Firelight, and strains of a symphony
+      Wafting in.
+    Outside, bare trees
+      Against leaden skies
+      Weave their own music
+      That throbs with the rhythm
+      Of the orchestra.
+    The wind moans, and
+      Strong, black branches
+      Sway slowly,
+      Mark the beat,
+      Then stop.
+    The wind hums,
+      Delicate, lacelike tops
+      Quiver and ripple
+      With the quick response
+      Of the violins.
+    With the shriek of the wind
+    They writhe and toss,
+      Measuring the crescendo
+      Of the brasses.
+
+
+
+
+_Contrast_
+
+
+    In an old world palace,
+    Room after room
+    Is filled with treasures--
+    Old masters, jewels, glass.
+    Yet all I remember
+    Is the stark whiteness of a gardenia
+    Blowing against a wall,
+    And the fairy music of a fountain
+    In the patio.
+
+
+
+
+_Surety_
+
+
+    I needed the dawn, but
+    My eyes beheld only clouds
+    And a valley filled with mists
+    And a mountain shutting out the east.
+    I needed the dawn, so
+    I could but wait.
+    Surely,
+    Slowly
+    Through the clouds
+    The light came,
+    Like a presence
+    Dispelling mist and cloud:
+    Even the mountain
+    Could not hide it.
+    My eyes beheld all clear,
+    And in the roseate glow,
+    Like a diamond,
+    Hung the morning star.
+
+
+
+
+_Guests_
+
+
+    There was emptiness
+    When the birds left in the fall.
+    But to fill it came late butterflies,
+    Dawdling flocks of brilliant things
+    In clouds of scintillating beauty,
+    Covering every bush and flower.
+    As silently as they came did they disappear
+    And in their place came the music
+    Of the katydid and the cricket.
+    Day and night the cheerful songs
+    Of these tiny insects were our company.
+
+    An early blizzard
+    Buried every green blade and bent to earth
+    Great trees and slender saplings
+    Under a thick weight of snow.
+    To our door came the thrushes
+    That we thought were gone,--
+    Shy thrushes, that had turned their backs
+    Upon us in summer and slipped
+    Into the depth of the woods,--
+    And whitethroats and tree sparrows,
+    Unafraid, waiting for food.
+    Even now the stillness is alive
+    With the memory of these friendly folk.
+
+
+
+
+_Storm_
+
+
+    When the storm rushes upon the deep woods,
+    It lets down curtains of mist
+    And sheets of rain, that drip
+    Crystal beads among the trees.
+    Way above, the branches lash and moan
+    And weave. Below, it is still,
+    Still as the undersea.
+    Soft fern and feathery bracken
+    Loom through the mist
+    Like branching coral,
+    And drifting leaves float down
+    Like snowy fishes,
+    Lazily moving.
+
+
+
+
+_A Reminder_
+
+
+    Down beneath the office windows
+    In a chestnut clump,
+    A robin sings all day long,
+    "Joyously, joyously!"
+
+    Above the whir of traffic,
+    The bands and the sirens,
+    Floats his song all day,
+    "Joyously, joyously!"
+
+    The lilting song brings to me,
+    The peace of field and merry brook,
+    And I myself, sing all day, too,
+    "Joyously, joyously!"
+
+
+
+
+_Buffalo Harbor_
+
+
+    Some say that it is ugly and hurry on through,
+    But I love these impressive symbols
+    Of man's ingenuity.
+    Here are the great grain elevators, looming
+    In tones and shades of grey, veiled
+    In the clouds of black smoke from the
+    Tugs at their feet;
+    Puffing engines shifting strings of cars,
+    And huge ships nosed in against each other
+    Or riding at anchor, and canal boats
+    In straight lines at the docks.
+    Farther on, across a slip, there are
+    Mountains of ore in reds and brown,
+    And pile upon pile of gravel and slag,
+    And sand in soft saffron hues,
+    Heaped up for the steel mills to devour;
+    Those gigantic mills whose tall stacks
+    Belch varicolored gases, against
+    The deep blue of the inner harbor,
+    Where the waves pound in
+    Over the sea wall.
+    All this cupped by the towering
+    City skyscrapers, and outlined against
+    The peaceful Eden hills,
+    Miles to the south.
+    And when I wait for the big bridge to lift
+    For a freighter with its important tugs,
+    I pull out of line, off to the side,
+    And let the other cars go by,
+    And look, and look.
+    I never seem to get enough.
+
+
+
+
+_From a Train Window_
+
+
+    Once, before dawn,
+    In the Mohawk valley,
+    Dots of light flashed
+    And floated off
+    Into the blackness,
+    Like sparks of flame
+    Blasted from the engine.
+    Then more and more,
+    Mile after mile,
+    Almost never ending--
+    Millions of fire-flies,
+    Like tiny torches,
+    Dancing over swamp lands
+    In the night air.
+
+
+
+
+_Scotland_
+
+(_The Highlands_)
+
+
+    Mountains,
+      Veiled in shifting vapors,
+    Mountains,
+      Bleak, foreboding,
+    Mountains,
+      Stark and overpowering.
+    Torrents,
+      Tumbling, crashing,
+      Dragging boulders
+      In their rushing,
+    Lakes,
+      Forlorn and lonesome
+    Heather
+      In magenta patches,
+    Sheep, and cattle
+      Black and somber,
+    Winding roads
+      Through massive passes.
+    Rain,
+    Sun,
+    Flowers,
+    Mist,
+    Rain,--
+      Loved Scotland!
+
+
+
+
+_Friends_
+
+(_At Lake Windermere, England_)
+
+
+    Across the lake
+    Lying calm and black
+    Under the night,
+    Floats the wail
+    Of the pipes:
+    And beyond, loom
+    Langdale Pikes, dim,
+    Shadowy sentinels.
+    Over all, the stars,
+    Like friends, faithful
+    And changeless.
+
+
+
+
+_A Poem of Color_
+
+
+    Stretched on the ground beneath the Hawthorn,
+    The perfume of its blossoms mingled with falling petals, floats
+        down to me.
+    Winged things alight there on the blanket of fragrance above,--a
+        bunting, blue as the sky, a warbler, all gold, an Admiral, wings
+        banded with crimson,
+    Make a poem of color of the Hawthorn tree.
+
+
+
+
+_Dream_
+
+(_Stratford-on-Avon_)
+
+
+    One warm June evening
+    I sat in the churchyard
+    Of old Trinity. I sat there for hours
+    On an ancient stone, forgetting time.
+    The Avon, as silent as the centuries it had known,
+    Glided past, carrying me on with its memories.
+    From the lush meadow across the river came the bleating of lambs,
+    And from the limes floated the song of blackbirds.
+    All about the scent of roses hung heavy.
+    Then, over the roof of Trinity, the moon arose.
+    Shakespeare saw the Avon, thus, and loved it,--
+    Winding on in the moonlight.
+
+
+
+
+_Escape_
+
+
+    How simple life can be!
+    A cabin,
+    Mountains, afar and near,
+    A brook,
+    Deer, blowing at night.
+    Perchance,
+    Rain on the roof,
+    Then,
+    The loved books,
+    A fire on the hearth,
+    And endless time
+    To think.
+    How simple life is!
+
+
+
+
+_Question_
+
+(_Locheven_)
+
+
+    Would you choose
+    The formal garden
+    With lilac hedges
+    And vistas of velvet lawn
+    And marble fountain
+    Shining pool and
+    Marble bench o'er-topped
+    By drooping willow;
+    Massed color in trim beds,
+    And stately garden house
+    Festooned with wisteria
+    And guarded by strutting peacock?
+
+              Or,
+
+    The wood's garden,
+    The wild garden,
+    Tumbling over itself
+    With pale Jacks, and violets--
+    Blue and gold, and
+    Baby ferns, tucked
+    Within sheltering gnarled roots!
+    And mossy mounds, starred
+    With Trillium and Crane's bill;
+    And patches of lavender sunlight,
+    (No, it's wild Phlox,
+    In the flickering light)--
+    And fire-flies and flapping owls,
+    At twilight, and furry rabbits,
+    Bobbing ahead up the path.
+
+    Which would you choose?
+
+
+
+
+_When You Were a Little Girl_
+
+
+    When you were a little girl
+    And you went driving with Grandfather,
+    If it rained, didn't he braid up the horse's tail
+    Binding it round with a bright silver band,
+    And fasten on the side curtains of the carriage
+    And pull the rubber "boot" over the dashboard?
+    And do you remember how the horse's feet
+    Went "Plop, plop," in and out of the mud,
+    And you felt the mist blow in on your face
+    When you managed to peer out over the curtain?
+    And didn't you snuggle up close to Grandfather
+    And hug the Fairy Tale book
+    Which he was going to listen to
+    When the rain stopped and you lunched
+    Beside the road?
+
+    Didn't your Grandfather always drive over
+    To the cheese factory, and bring out
+    The fresh cheese curd to you?
+    Can't you remember the taste, even now?
+    And sometimes, when it stormed hard, and thundered
+    And lightened, and the crashing made the horse
+    Want to run, wouldn't your Grandfather always say:
+    "Steady there, now, boy! Steady, boy!" so gently,
+    That neither you nor the horse were afraid after that
+    Because Grandfather said everything was all right,
+    And he knew. And wasn't your Grandmother
+    Waiting in the doorway, watching a bit anxiously,
+    Until you turned into the yard?
+            Mine was.
+
+
+
+
+_Flight_
+
+
+    So still lay the city,
+    So very quietly it slept,
+    That from high in the west
+    I heard the honking of geese
+    Winging southward.
+    Yearningly I listened
+    As they swept over,
+    Yearningly I cried--
+    O wild things, that I
+    Could fly as do you!
+    Then out of the silent darkness,
+    Like a flying star,
+    Flashed a plane
+    With its skyborne humans.
+    And all of a sudden
+    I remembered that I, too,
+    Could take to wings.
+
+
+
+
+_Petit Trianon_
+
+(_Versailles, France_)
+
+
+    When the long drawn notes of a bird's song
+    Echoes through the trees,
+    It brings to remembrance the songs
+    Of the blackbirds at Petit Trianon:
+    Chiming, reverberating, floating down
+    From the tops of the tall cedars
+    As from an invisible, celestial choir.
+
+    Nor can I forget the ages-old wisteria
+    Clambering over gray palace walls,
+    Nor the gamut of color in the azaleas there--
+    Pink, orange, cerise, yellow--
+    In pale green foliage.
+
+
+
+
+_Joy_
+
+
+    When your heavens are as brass
+    And joy has fled, and
+    Every door is shut,
+    Do not forget the one
+    That opens inward--
+    The door of your heart,
+    Whose handle is on the inside
+    And which only you can open.
+    Go out through that door
+    And find one whose skies
+    Are darker than yours,
+    Whose burden is heavier;
+    Bring him back with you
+    Into your heart.
+
+    There can you cleanse him with love,
+    And clothe him with garments of truth,
+    And put the ring of his unity
+    With God upon his hand;
+    There feed him with the word,
+    And let him go.
+    Then will your heavens be
+    As radiant light,
+    And your happiness and joy
+    Such as never were
+    On land or sea.
+
+
+
+
+_Twilight Song Service_
+
+(_"B.A." Chestnut Hill, Mass._)
+
+
+    In the deepening twilight there floats
+    From the chapel above, the loved hymns of healing--
+    Hymns of comfort, of courage, welling up from grateful hearts
+    And bringing reassurance of God's power
+    To one who listens below in silent prayer and praise.
+    Great peace of God, be with us all!
+    Great peace of God encompass us!
+    Speak to the waves tonight, Father, that they stand.
+    Stretch forth Thy hand and stay their power,
+    Calm them, that they overwhelm not.
+    For Thy voice is "mightier than the noise of many waters,
+    Yea, than the mighty waves of the sea."
+    This Thou canst do, O my God.
+
+
+
+
+_Triumph_
+
+
+    These are they, O God,
+    Who came out of great tribulation
+    And have washed their robes white.
+    Oh, holy triumph of those
+    Who have endured the fire
+    And the tempest's rage and, delivered,
+    Stand exalted in this very hour,
+    Purged, sanctified, and satisfied.
+    These are they who have surrendered
+    All the vanities of mortal selfhood,
+    And serve Thee
+    Day and night in Thy temple,
+    Lifting others to behold
+    The tearless, ageless, deathless reality
+    Of Thy glory.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+Minor typographic errors have been corrected without note.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Little Window, by Jean M. Snyder
+
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