diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:08:57 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:08:57 -0700 |
| commit | 068443d8d8df5323bdf3506bfa0893ac3f7a77ba (patch) | |
| tree | 7ae531aa8f287ace080688ea3e64b5bcf4ec300b /37859-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '37859-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 37859-h/37859-h.htm | 2149 |
1 files changed, 2149 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/37859-h/37859-h.htm b/37859-h/37859-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4bf3d91 --- /dev/null +++ b/37859-h/37859-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2149 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of The Call of the Mountains, by James E. Pickering +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +P.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +P.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +P.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +P.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +P.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +P.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Call of the Mountains, by James E. Pickering + +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: The Call of the Mountains + and other Poems + +Author: James E. Pickering + +Release Date: October 26, 2011 [EBook #37859] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CALL OF THE MOUNTAINS *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t1"> +The Call of the Mountains +</P> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +and other Poems +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +By +</P> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +James E. Pickering +</P> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +Author of<BR> +"The King's Temptation," "The Cap of Care," etc.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +London +<BR> +A. C. Fifield, Clifford's Inn, E.C. +<BR> +1913 +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +PRINTED BY +<BR> +WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD. +<BR> +PLYMOUTH +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +The Cap of Care +</P> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +By +</P> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +James E. Pickering +</P> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +<I>Grey Board Series, No.</I> 18. 1<I>s. net</I> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%"> +"Mr. Pickering's metrical faculties are as deft and cunning as those of +anyone now writing verse."—<I>Athenćum</I>. +</P> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +A. C. Fifield, 13 Clifford's Inn, E.C. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +Contents +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#p7">The Call of the Mountains</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p22">The Old Manor House</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p30">The Science Master</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p34">Through the Centuries</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p37">Winter</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p40">Pain and Death</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p41">Switzerland</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p44">Burial at Sea</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p47">The Master of the Marionettes</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p49">Love's Counterfeit</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p50">The Most Precious Thing</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p52">Autumn</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p53">To L</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p54">Duty</A><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +Sonnets +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#p57">Glastonbury</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p58">Galileo</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p59">Stratford-on-Avon</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p60">To a Daffodil</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p61">The Appian Way</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p62">From the Fields</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p63">Vénus de Milo</A><BR> +<A HREF="#p64">Fire</A><BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p7"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> + The Call of the Mountains +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Under the shade of the Kursaal veranda<BR> +Idly I follow the flight of the seagulls,<BR> +Gleaming like snow when their wings catch the sunshine,<BR> +While from the palm-house adjacent is wafted<BR> +Music half drowned in a babel of voices,<BR> +Fitting the mode of this temple of follies.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Far though the mountains, their influence, ever<BR> +Changeful in temper, from sombre to smiling,<BR> +Constant in wileful and mystic allurement,<BR> +Rouses unrest and a strange fascination.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Limpid and blue are the waters of Leman<BR> +Clear in the deepness, translucent and shining,<BR> +Blue as the ether's ineffable azure,<BR> +Bright in the glow of the midsummer sunshine.<BR> +Cleaving the air with their palpitant pinions,<BR> +Wheeling and drifting, the beautiful seagulls<BR> +Fly with the grace of unconscious perfection,<BR> +Crying exultant and wild in a chorus.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Are you not fit for the realm of immortals,<BR> +To float on the winds of the gardens Elysian?<BR> +Or must you hover a little while longer—<BR> +Wandering souls in a state of probation—<BR> +Half-way uplifted beyond our defilement,<BR> +Half-way removed from the land of the blessed?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Far in the distance beyond the blue water,<BR> +Rises the hoary old father of mountains,<BR> +Rugged and scarred with antiquity's furrows,<BR> +Crowned with the snows of a million winters.<BR> +Low in the shade of his ponderous presence,<BR> +Dappling the slopes, are the homesteads of peasants,<BR> +Each with its cloud of blue vapour ascending:<BR> +And sweetly the bells across the green pastures<BR> +Answer each other with voices persistent,<BR> +Telling the herdsman the tale of his charges.<BR> +Grim is the smile of the white-headed mountain<BR> +For toilers below in the slumbering valley,<BR> +Grim is the glance with a touch of derision,<BR> +Seeming to say to his towering brothers—<BR> +Catogne and the broad-shouldered heights of the Midi,<BR> +"Iguanodon,—Mastodon,—Man,—in their passing<BR> +Serve but as signs on the path of the ages."<BR> +Softly the plash of the waters of Leman<BR> +Sounds from the rough-tumbled stones at its margin:<BR> +Gently the zephyrs play over its surface,<BR> +Making it glitter with myriads of sparklets.<BR> +Swiftly the barques trim their sails in the sunshine—<BR> +Sails high and slender that swell to the breezes,<BR> +White as the snow on the breast of the Jungfrau—<BR> +Mirrored in whiteness upon the blue water.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +As I sat watching the lake and the mountains,<BR> +Slowly a haze like a curtain of muslin,<BR> +Flimsy and fine like a texture of cobweb,<BR> +Drifted and rose till it shut out the bases<BR> +And bulk of the mountains across the still water,<BR> +Whilst high above it the crests and sierras<BR> +Stood out as castles and walls of enchantment,<BR> +Raised in the air like king Solomon's city,<BR> +Held up aloft by invisible genii.<BR> +Then in the faintly drawn lines of escarpment,<BR> +Battlements, pinnacles, turrets and bastions<BR> +Sprang into being, and fancy, untrammelled,<BR> +Pictured a palace with walls, and a fortress<BR> +Beleaguered and stormed by a shadowy army,<BR> +Massed under pennons seen dim through the vapour.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Over the drawbridge a desperate sortie<BR> +Made by the knights of the castle invested<BR> +Brings the foes quickly in conflict together.<BR> +Plumes white and restless like foam on the breakers<BR> +Drift to and fro with the tide of the battle;<BR> +Falchions and maces and curtaxes gleaming<BR> +A moment aloft, strike sparks in descending<BR> +On corslet and casque and dinted escutcheon,<BR> +Whilst out of the contest, with stumbling footsteps<BR> +The wounded are led sore stricken and helpless.<BR> +Ladies in sarcenet, arabesque broidered<BR> +With blossoms that climb fantastic in colour,—<BR> +Stiff flowers of blazonry's formal convention<BR> +That rise from the hem to the throat in profusion,<BR> +Where carcanets flash on bosoms unquiet,—<BR> +Look from their casements with eyes full of wonder,<BR> +Down on the conflict that rages below them,<BR> +Fierce in the shock and the heat of encounter,<BR> +Hearing the war-cries and clashing of weapons,<BR> +Winding of horns, and the groans of the dying.<BR> +Till all was lost in the thickening curtain,<BR> +Veiled by the mist were my golden romances.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Once when a snowstorm swept over lake Leman<BR> +Filling the distance with wildly tossed snowflakes,<BR> +I pictured a scene in the heart of the mountains,<BR> +Hidden in shadows, unknown to the climber,<BR> +Out of the range of Humanity's footsteps.<BR> +There is the cave where the slumbering ice god<BR> +Hides from the gaze of the wandering stranger,<BR> +Shut in the depths of the mountain's recesses,<BR> +Rent long ago by the force of upheavals<BR> +In the wild turmoil and labour of earthquake.<BR> +There sits the god of the cold everlasting,<BR> +Guarding the spirits of men who have perished<BR> +In their endeavours to master the secrets<BR> +Of paths that have never by footsteps been trodden.<BR> +In the ice temple his figure majestic<BR> +Looms from a throne that through aeons uncounted<BR> +Has stood in the gloom and the silence eternal.<BR> +Weird is the throng of the spirits in thraldom:<BR> +Silent they steal from their icy sepulture,<BR> +Slow-pacing figures unchanged and unchanging:<BR> +By violent death, swift, ruthless and lonely,<BR> +Sentenced to wander for ever in darkness,<BR> +Pent in the masterful ice god's dominion.<BR> +Primitive hunters with flint-headed arrows,<BR> +Whose limited minds ignored the distinction<BR> +Engendered by knowledge, of good and of evil:<BR> +Acting by impulse and guided by instinct:<BR> +Living in caves like the bears and the foxes,<BR> +Facing with cunning and courage their quarry,<BR> +Guarding their women and feeding their children,<BR> +Almost as fierce as the creatures they hunted.<BR> +Men who came later throughout the long ages,<BR> +Wandering fugitives driven by fortune<BR> +Far from their homes to the wild desolation,<BR> +Slaves of illusion that lures to destruction:<BR> +Some with a love for adventure and daring,<BR> +Some to escape from the ills that pursued them,<BR> +Some in response to the strong fascination<BR> +That calls from the heights of the untrodden mountains,<BR> +All destined by fate, that watches unceasing,<BR> +To die in the darkness forgotten for ever,<BR> +Pent in the ice god's immutable kingdom.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Wafted by breezes, my white-sailed felucca<BR> +Slipped through the blueness to where the grim stronghold<BR> +Of Chillon keeps ever in grateful remembrance<BR> +The patriot Bonivard, champion of freedom.<BR> +The pillar of pain where, writhing in torment,<BR> +The captives were scourged at cruelty's bidding,<BR> +Is still to be seen, an eloquent witness.<BR> +Tenantless now is the cavernous dungeon<BR> +Where wretches awaited through darkness unending<BR> +The dawn of their last and dreaded to-morrow.<BR> +Stripped of its horrors, the chamber of torture<BR> +Echoes no more to the shrieks of its victims,<BR> +And death's grim abode where agony ended<BR> +Is free from the crimes that redden its records.<BR> +There by the column of stone in the dungeon<BR> +Where Bonivard lay to pine through the seasons<BR> +Of six weary years, I mused on his story.<BR> +Undaunted by death's ever-threatening shadow,<BR> +Unconquered though insolent tyranny triumphed,<BR> +Chilled in the summer and frozen in winter,<BR> +Famished, neglected and loaded with fetters,<BR> +Yet borne up within by courage unflinching,<BR> +Supported by Faith when Hope had departed,<BR> +Scorning to murmur, he waited with patience.<BR> +Morning's faint light through the narrow embrasure,<BR> +The wandering cry of a sea-mew in freedom<BR> +Heightened the gloom of his roughly hewn prison,<BR> +Making a summons to death a deliverance.<BR> +Night fell about him in Stygian darkness,<BR> +While the faint lap of the waters of Leman,<BR> +Beating the ramparts with madding persistence,<BR> +Whispered despair in the still isolation.<BR> +What were his thoughts when the vault of his prison<BR> +Rang with glad cries in the glare of the torches?<BR> +Breaking the silence, dispelling the shadows<BR> +That darkened his life and threatened his reason,<BR> +What were his thoughts at the moment of freedom?<BR> +When round him a tempest of passion was raging,<BR> +An unloosened storm of passionate feeling,<BR> +When men incoherent and hoarse from the conflict<BR> +Fought for the honour of breaking his fetters,<BR> +Leaving him breathless with hearty embraces,<BR> +Weak and unmanned in the sudden revulsion,<BR> +Carried away by the flood of emotion,<BR> +With something unknown that stifled expression,<BR> +That silenced his voice and heaved in his bosom.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Strong is the spell of the dream-haunted mountains,<BR> +Ruddy with gold in the glory of sunrise,<BR> +Purple and silver and blue in the daytime,<BR> +Tinged by the amethyst splendours of sunset,<BR> +Gloomy, majestic and dark in the twilight,<BR> +Mystic by moonlight, ethereal, airy,<BR> +Changeful and fickle in hues as the opal,<BR> +Under the mutable lights and the shadows,<BR> +Ever alluring with subtle attraction.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Far, far away are the waters of Leman<BR> +Whence I have fled at the call of the mountains.<BR> +Here in the valley where rushes a torrent,<BR> +Constant and cold, be it summer or winter,<BR> +A village lies hid and hither the climbers,<BR> +Strangely alike in their eager impatience,<BR> +Wearing the look of enwrapped expectation,<BR> +Pause ere they start on their perilous journey.<BR> +Hemming me round, the implacable mountains<BR> +Shut out the world and confine me in durance,<BR> +Bending my soul to the yoke of their bondage,<BR> +Dwarfing my self and my little emotions,<BR> +Waking desire to escape limitations<BR> +And barriers imposed by narrow horizons.<BR> +Rugged, majestic, they tower above me,<BR> +As lonely and pensive I gaze in the torrent,<BR> +Wondering now at the summons insistent,<BR> +No longer in dreams and rovings of fancy,<BR> +But weighted with impulse, defying resistance,<BR> +Rousing unrest like a spirit of evil.<BR> +So, as I linger awhile in the village,<BR> +Completely I know each day brings me nearer<BR> +To what lies beyond, in the regions of silence.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now it is over. The lights of the village,<BR> +The children at play, the clink from the smithy,<BR> +The gurgle and rush of the hurrying torrent,<BR> +The rattle of wheels, the tinkle of cowbells,<BR> +The inn's open window whence converse in fragments<BR> +Floats out with the odours of beer and tobacco,<BR> +All welcome me back with familiar voices.<BR> +Here time moves onward with rhythmic precision:<BR> +Breakfast and dinner, and bed for the darkness,<BR> +With Sunday to part one week from another:<BR> +Spring time and winter, the snow and the sunshine,<BR> +And sooner or later a cross in the churchyard.<BR> +Time lacks proportion away in the mountains.<BR> +What is a day or an hour or a lifetime<BR> +Gauged by the ebb and the flow of the ages<BR> +Shown in the tidemarks on crags prehistoric?<BR> +If, as men say, time is measured by heartbeats,<BR> +I wandered through years of vivid emotions.<BR> +Pelion and Ossa, by arrogant Titans<BR> +Profanely uplifted to challenge Olympus,<BR> +Repeated themselves in the blueness above me.<BR> +Sunsets and dawns such as glowed on the marshes,<BR> +Silurian haunts of the early creation,<BR> +Long ere the age of humanity's advent,<BR> +Gleamed through the vapours and red exhalations<BR> +Rising from bottomless pits to encolour<BR> +Weirdly the matrix, volcanic, primeval,<BR> +Riven and torn in the birth-throes of Cosmos.<BR> +Slippery ledges uneven and narrow,<BR> +Through rarefied air that maddens the pulses,<BR> +Treacherous footpaths inviting destruction,<BR> +Where fear in the heart disorders the senses.<BR> +Vertiginate chasms, abysmal, terrific,<BR> +Unfathomed and sheer with never a foothold,<BR> +Compelling the gaze with cold fascination.<BR> +Stretches of billowy acres of whiteness<BR> +Dimming the eyes with their endless expanses;<BR> +Ridges upstanding in ice walls cemented<BR> +By glacial pressure of slow-moving masses.<BR> +Caverns with ice shapes, blue-tinted, translucent:<BR> +Columns and altars and figures fantastic,<BR> +Imagined in dreams or pictured in fever,<BR> +Softly illumed by the moonlight's reflection.<BR> +There is the haunt of the evil ice maidens,<BR> +The servants of Death, who lure with their beauty,<BR> +Who bathe in the stream of the glacier water,<BR> +The glacial water that flows through the caverns,<BR> +Silent and deep as the river of Lethe.<BR> +These memories hold me. I live in a fever.<BR> +The air that I breathe, the influence round me<BR> +Are charged with a strange and volatile essence<BR> +That throbs in my veins and quickens my breathing.<BR> +Held by the mountains, I languish in bondage<BR> +Under the masterful sway of their presence.<BR> +Restless though weary I dream of their perils,<BR> +Slipping down chasms with death at the bottom,<BR> +Or over the desolate ice fields I wander,<BR> +Hopeless, forgotten and lost in the snowdrifts,<BR> +Wandering ever past hope of redemption.<BR> +Sometimes I swing with a pendulum's measure,<BR> +Fitfully swayed by the wind o'er a chasm<BR> +That gapes far below, relentless and cruel,<BR> +Conscious of all in the terrible moments<BR> +That pass till I drop to the doom that is waiting<BR> +Far in the depths of the yawning crevasses,<BR> +And wake at the instant supreme of destruction.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +To-morrow at dawn I fly from the village<BR> +Back to the peace of the waters of Leman.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Gone, gone at last, is the morbid obsession!<BR> +Gone to the shade in the regions of Limbo.<BR> +Far, far away, o'er the waters of Leman,<BR> +Mistily outlined and faint in the distance,<BR> +Threatening no longer, the dream-haunted mountains<BR> +Lazily whisper of rest and contentment.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Softly the plash of the glittering fountain<BR> +Falls on the night with the scent of mimosa,<BR> +Mingled with polyglot phrases and laughter,<BR> +Marking the pause 'twixt a waltz and mazurka.<BR> +Soft are the lamps in the Kursaal rotunda<BR> +Lighting discreetly the hall of lost footsteps<BR> +Whose gleaming mosaics are painted with garlands,<BR> +Blossoms exotic, luxuriant, languid,<BR> +Red as the souls of the people about them,<BR> +Hinting at passions through crimson and purple,<BR> +Fitting the vogue of this temple of pleasure.<BR> +On a divan in the hall where the idlers<BR> +Promenade slowly, in converse together,<BR> +I sit all alone in calm contemplation,<BR> +Hearing the orchestra faint in the distance<BR> +And the croupier's voice from his chamber seductive,<BR> +Parrot-like crying in stale iteration,<BR> +Summons and challenge across the green table.<BR> +Keen-eyed old gamesters who prowl round the players,<BR> +Seeking a pigeon to pluck at their leisure:<BR> +Black-whiskered barons with blurred reputations<BR> +Smirking at B. and his girls from Chicago:<BR> +Swaggering captains at best detrimental:<BR> +A country-bred youth just come to a fortune,<BR> +Trying in vain to conceal his amazement:<BR> +Couples awaiting the Absolute's fiat,<BR> +Now in pursuit of a flying illusion:<BR> +Hebrews from Frankfort and bankers from Paris<BR> +Chatting to ladies resplendent in diamonds;<BR> +A burgess of London whose wife says: "Disgraceful,"<BR> +But lingers to study Parisian fashions:<BR> +Gamblers inveterate bent to a system,<BR> +Silent, unheeding, absorbed in their figures:<BR> +Well-groomed young fellows, light-hearted and careless,<BR> +Come for the dance and the fun of flirtation,<BR> +Bright-eyed and merry, unconsciously breathing<BR> +The poisonous air of sepulchres whited.<BR> +Perdita, watchful and guardedly smiling,<BR> +Trying to lessen the distance between us,<BR> +Wafts me a sign with a spray of verbena.<BR> +Is she an angel, a beast or a demon,<BR> +Or spirit incarnate that onward is passing<BR> +To higher avatars by long transmigration?<BR> +Ah! how it warms one, this human deflection,<BR> +This touch with familiar follies and foibles,<BR> +After the limitless space of the aeons,<BR> +Out of the measure of time as we know it,<BR> +Far in the distant and echoless ages,<BR> +Austere, and untouched by our passing emotions,<BR> +Where I have wandered in lonely remoteness<BR> +Under the passionless spell of the mountains.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Cold and relentless, eternally lasting!<BR> +Silent inscriptions in cryptical cipher!<BR> +Unbroken record of time since creation,<BR> +Whose secret is hid from human conception.<BR> +How small are the things humanity prizes,<BR> +The feverish joys of passion and pleasure,<BR> +That pass like a dream to dusky oblivion!<BR> +How short is man's life compared with the ages<BR> +That frown from the face of the mystical mountains,<BR> +Far in the blue o'er the waters of Leman.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p22"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> + The Old Manor House +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The rusted gates whose forgings fine<BR> +Enlace a gilded coronet,<BR> +Now dim in lustreless decline,<BR> +Groaned as I passed the lichened shapes<BR> +Of rampant griffin on each side,<BR> +Stiff with heraldic, stony pride.<BR> +Then through the grass-grown drive I passed<BR> +With ancient oaks on either hand,<BR> +Throwing their shadows dark and vast<BR> +Upon the bracken at their feet<BR> +Where rabbits peeped in fear and ran<BR> +From the rare sound of living man.<BR> +For here no more the sumptuous train<BR> +Displays the pomp of falconry;<BR> +No more, besprent with mire and rain,<BR> +The messenger-at-arms rides in:<BR> +Nor, with his retinue of knights<BR> +Some great man at the house alights.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Above the portico<BR> +Of the great silent house,<BR> +The quarterings' tinctures glow,<BR> +Blazoning its history,<BR> +From the old Sieur de Caulx,<BR> +Whose heavy Norman sword<BR> +Helped Harold's overthrow,<BR> +And whose long line of sons<BR> +Stretches, like a shadow,<BR> +Thrown in the eventide,<BR> +Through the old folio<BR> +Where illumined pages<BR> +Bravely the records show,<BR> +Till the last, lonely heir<BR> +Was carried down below,<BR> +To the cold marble vaults<BR> +A century ago.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A gallery o'erlooks the hall,<BR> +A gallery where minstrels played<BR> +And with their lutes sweet music made,<BR> +While from the weapons on the wall,<BR> +Reflected shone the lights that glowed<BR> +Above the hospitable board<BR> +When each successive, generous lord<BR> +His loyalty or grandeur showed.<BR> +Kings feasted there with stately dames,<BR> +Ambassadors and Cardinals<BR> +Who, cheered with wine and madrigals,<BR> +Fed with their fancies amorous flames.<BR> +And at some great eventful scene<BR> +Full many a dance the chamber graced,<BR> +Pavanes and sarabands were paced,<BR> +And minuets when Anne was queen.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +My footsteps echoing from the panelled walls,<BR> +Stayed the long sleep of years,<BR> +Stirring the thick, accumulated dust<BR> +To movement in the ray of light that falls,<BR> +From a half-shuttered oriel which appears<BR> +Between the rafters, just<BR> +Where a stone mullion its carved apex rears.<BR> +Faint voices whispered round me as I stood<BR> +Spellbound and listening there:<BR> +The ghostly strains of melodies forgot,<BR> +The happy laughter of fair womanhood:<BR> +Children in noisy play, without a care:<BR> +Fierce cries with passion hot,<BR> +Triumphant some, and some wild with despair.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Leaving the chamber so haunted by voices,<BR> +Fearful, I hastened to where the great staircase<BR> +Rears its proud height in a double ascension<BR> +Till it is hid in the deepening shadows.<BR> +Stiffly upstanding on each chief baluster,<BR> +Absently gaze the historical griffins,<BR> +Plunged in their silent and deep meditation.<BR> +Many a Caulx have they seen pass before them,<BR> +Long generations in motley procession,<BR> +Halting and feeble, the sick and the aged:<BR> +Sanguine and joyous, the young and the hopeful:<BR> +Manhood triumphant, crestfallen or thoughtless:<BR> +Urbane and discreet, my lady's confessor:<BR> +Stealthily creeping, the villainous traitor:<BR> +Quick and impatient, the fortunate lover:<BR> +Children unconscious of aught but their playthings:<BR> +Nobles in ermine, and simpering ladies:<BR> +Then, the one end of all human emotions,<BR> +Slow-pacing figures who bear on their shoulders,<BR> +Silenced for ever, some lord of the staircase.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The steward, from the all-pervading gloom,<BR> +Flung wide the shutters of the drawing-room,<BR> +Showing a terrace graced with urn and faun<BR> +And steps that led to a neglected lawn,<BR> +Whilst rounded hill and valley far were seen<BR> +Lit by the summer's radiating sheen.<BR> +The room's magnificence, its noble size<BR> +And faded splendour filled me with surprise.<BR> +A costly pierglass in its tarnished frame,<BR> +Which once reflected gallant squire and dame,<BR> +Now with fidelity displayed the clear<BR> +And gleaming lustres of the chandelier,<BR> +Pendent, with ten score sconces silver chased,<BR> +From the high ceiling which a master graced<BR> +With courtly scenes wherein could be descried<BR> +Ancestral figures in their pomp and pride.<BR> +The sunlight played on gilded girandole,<BR> +On silver candlestick and stiff console,<BR> +All of that period when here befell<BR> +The scene on which the steward loves to dwell,<BR> +Showing the floor's dark stain of sombre red<BR> +And how it came about that blood was shed.<BR> +I marked the punchbowls, full of leaves and dust,<BR> +A slim sword, silver-hiked, flecked with rust:<BR> +A daintily escutcheoned chiffonier,<BR> +Inlaid with shell and finished with veneer:<BR> +Timepieces silent, set in ormolu:<BR> +The damask screens of faded red and blue.<BR> +And, to enhance the chamber's stately air,<BR> +Great Chippendale had made each slender chair.<BR> +The stream of life, arrested, seemed to wait<BR> +A magic word to set it flowing straight.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Heated by wine and ombre-play,<BR> +Two hundred years ago or more,<BR> +Three gamblers, on a morning gray,<BR> +Quarrelled about a questioned score.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Two blades were soon engaged. A tierce,<BR> +Ill parried, stretched a swordsman low,<BR> +Who lunged with failing point but fierce,<BR> +And dying, dropped before his foe.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And when the growing light of morn<BR> +Lit the Venetian mirror's face,<BR> +He died, 'twixt pain and passion torn,<BR> +And left a curse upon the place.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And from that day the records show<BR> +A slowly creeping, sure decline<BR> +That, just a hundred years ago,<BR> +Ended the once illustrious line.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Sometimes upon the dusky hour<BR> +That comes before the sun's first rays,<BR> +When things occult display their power,<BR> +A strange light on the chamber plays<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +That is not of the earth or sky,<BR> +While hurrying footsteps come and go<BR> +And then into the silence die<BR> +With whispered mutterings hoarse and low.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A sliding panel, by the wainscot hid,<BR> +Showed, in the unmarked thickness of the walls,<BR> +A narrow passage and a secret stair<BR> +That brought us to the level of the moat.<BR> +Long dry and choked with bracken and with brier,<BR> +It made a rugged pathway to a court<BR> +Where stands the ruin of an ancient tower,<BR> +Fenced in with walls pierced by an entrance low.<BR> +"Here," said my guide, "when James the first was king,<BR> +"A daughter of the house, through three long years,<BR> +"Was by her father close a prisoner kept<BR> +"Because she would not wed the man he chose.<BR> +"Stern and unyielding, as became her race,<BR> +"She set her will against her father's strength.<BR> +"Through all the time she saw no living face:<BR> +"No sound of human voice, except her own,<BR> +"Fell on her ear. She nothing saw but clouds<BR> +"That swept athwart the cold and pitiless sky,<BR> +"And blinking stars at night that rose and set<BR> +"Across the little window in the roof:<BR> +"Then she went mad and on the stony walls<BR> +"One day beat out her life in frenzied rage,<BR> +"And refuge found beyond her father's power."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Time passed, and it was late<BR> +When once again I stood<BR> +Outside the ancient gate,<BR> +Where the stone griffins ramped,<BR> +Cold as relentless fate<BR> +Changeless as destiny.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And I said: "'Tis in vain,<BR> +Guardians impassible,<BR> +That ye your watch maintain<BR> +Over the ghosts of Caulx,<BR> +While the years wax and wane<BR> +Century by century.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"For behold! I have been<BR> +Among them and have heard<BR> +Their voices, I have seen<BR> +With swift-discerning eyes<BR> +Over their wide demesne<BR> +Of human history."<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p30"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> + The Science Master +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"We build," he said, "on elemental things!"<BR> +And paused to glance around the silent class.<BR> +"On facts well ascertained which insight brings,<BR> +"And which in due development must pass<BR> +"From the first phase, remote, removed,<BR> +"To the Effect. Thus, link by link, we trace<BR> +"The lengthening chain of Verity, full proved<BR> +"By Knowledge, Reason, Logic, each in place."<BR> +It seemed conclusive to us students then.<BR> +The man's prestige had weight. Authority<BR> +Made him for us above all other men;<BR> +He was the head of our academy.<BR> +His calm assumption and incisive way,<BR> +Admitting no alternative nor doubt,<BR> +As he intoned his long familiar lay,<BR> +Made his pronouncements clear as if cut out<BR> +Of crystal, cold with mathematic test,<BR> +Through which he viewed complacently the span<BR> +And limit of all scientific quest,<BR> +Quite heedless of the growing range of man.<BR> +His narrow field so finished and complete,<BR> +His standards and his logic's hampering line<BR> +Look small where now the long perspectives meet,<BR> +Converging in a new horizon's shine.<BR> +All this was years ago. What would he say,<BR> +I wonder, if he could revisit us<BR> +And, with the knowledge of the present day,<BR> +See space and pain reduced to minimus,<BR> +Electric currents hand in hand with steam,<BR> +Men borne in ships across the trackless air,<BR> +The widening story of the earth's old scheme<BR> +Told in its strata, and, with arduous care,<BR> +The age of man thrust back unfathomed years,<BR> +New elements, a new chronology<BR> +And growing lore that year by year appears<BR> +To show how distant is finality?<BR> +It sets my fancy roving and I try<BR> +In idle hours to think what may befall.<BR> +Naught seems impossible, no thought too high,<BR> +No dream too mad, to realise it all.<BR> +What, for example, is the human mind?<BR> +Whence comes it, great or small, at some man's birth?<BR> +A fool's or sage's, base or all refined!<BR> +What holds it till his body turns to earth?<BR> +And whither goes it with the failing breath?<BR> +And is the Aura's essence to remain<BR> +Ever elusive at the hour of death,<BR> +To perish or another home attain?<BR> +Or, with close knowledge of man's growing germ,<BR> +Shall we not train it and direct its course,<BR> +As now we cultivate the floral sperm,<BR> +And simple weeds to complex beauty force?<BR> +Life is a thing of phases manifold,<BR> +By shades diminishing from high to low,<BR> +Man, protoplasm, beast, all we are told,<BR> +To perish in an equal overthrow.<BR> +Our view of life at best is incomplete.<BR> +We judge by its effect and action, blind<BR> +To its real essence, as to that we meet,<BR> +Acting unseen, when wire to wire we bind.<BR> +Think of what might be, once this secret known,<BR> +Full knowledge of Life's spark, and with the power<BR> +To rescue from Death's dark and silent zone<BR> +The souls of some great men whose natures tower<BR> +Above their fellows and can ill be spared<BR> +From some great task far-reaching and benign.<BR> +I hear a reader say: "This man has dared<BR> +"To claim for us an attribute divine!<BR> +"Our times are in God's hands." And I reply:<BR> +We do not hesitate to take a life,<BR> +The claims of social law to satisfy,<BR> +And punish men whose minds with crime are rife.<BR> +What then more fitting, given the knowledge there,<BR> +To lengthen lives that worthy ends fulfil,<BR> +And measure by new standards just and fair<BR> +The worth of life as it is good or ill?<BR> +Have we exhausted chemistry's domain?<BR> +Squeezed dry the elements we say we know?<BR> +And does the spinning universe contain<BR> +No more our theories to overthrow?<BR> +How far does gravitation serve our needs—<BR> +The force that keeps each planet in its place,<BR> +Resistless, constant, yet with varying speeds,<BR> +For ever acting in unbounded space?<BR> +Some day perhaps pent man will learn to brave<BR> +An alien atmosphere, and, from afar,<BR> +Of weight and distance master, not the slave,<BR> +Bring us new wisdom from some distant star.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p34"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Through the Centuries<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +While yet the Saxons ruled, a puissant Thane<BR> +Made with his unkempt band of mounted spears<BR> +A seizin of a hide of forest land<BR> +Whereon he built a house of ample size,<BR> +With dining-hall and bowers and sleeping-lofts,<BR> +And stables shutting in a stone-paved yard:<BR> +And round the whole he set a ponderous fence<BR> +Of sharpened stakes fast bound with metal bands.<BR> +And "Yan, the Wulf," for thus the Thane was known,<BR> +Called the place "Wulfden" in his savage tongue.<BR> +And here, year after year, he lived at ease,<BR> +Oft making sallies for a cattle raid,<BR> +Or fighting with some other such as he,<BR> +To come back weary at the fall of night,<BR> +Driving a herd before him, and his men<BR> +Sweating beneath the spoil of plundered foes.<BR> +Once as he sat at supper in his hall,<BR> +Bemused with mead and satisfied with food,<BR> +There came a wandering bedesman to his gate<BR> +Craving permission "in Fayre Jesu's name"<BR> +To build a church of stone within the shade<BR> +Of his protection. And, in generous mood,<BR> +The Thane gave gruff assent; and time slipped by.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then William swept the land, and, to reward<BR> +One of his knights, gave him the Wulf's demesne<BR> +To hold in fee, and on the Saxon's land<BR> +Arose a fortress with embattled walls,<BR> +With donjon, keep and moat and tilting-yard,<BR> +To hold in thraldom all the country-side.<BR> +But still was left the little Saxon church,<BR> +Unchanged save that the Norman owner gave<BR> +New consecration in his patron's name,<BR> +St. Martinus of Tours, a warrior saint<BR> +Who guarded through the centuries his race.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then in the War of Roses came the crash<BR> +That brought extinction to the feudal name<BR> +And desolation to its crumbling home.<BR> +And yet, though scarred by time and gray with age,<BR> +The little church of Saxon days remained<BR> +The emblem of a never-dying faith.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The years rolled by and then there came a day<BR> +Which gave a new possessor to the place,<BR> +A nobleman in favour with that queen<BR> +Who loved a witty tongue and ready sword<BR> +When coupled with good looks and brave attire.<BR> +He built a great Elizabethan pile,<BR> +The ground-plan shaped to form the royal E,<BR> +Conforming to the fashion of the times<BR> +When loyalty spoke even from silent stone.<BR> +And he, to please his lady's pious whim,<BR> +(Though ten years wed, he called her Sweetheart still)<BR> +Forbore to raze the chapel to the ground,<BR> +But stayed with flying buttress either side,<BR> +Repaired the roof and made it to her mind.<BR> +And there they lie, both in one marble tomb<BR> +On which their effigies with clasping hands<BR> +Bear witness to an everlasting love.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And when vacation brings its hours of rest<BR> +I sometimes sit within the Saxon church<BR> +And muse upon the changes time has brought<BR> +Save to the faith that reared the little shrine,<BR> +And still builds churches "in Fayre Jesu's name."<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p37"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Winter<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +'Tis winter and the darkening skies<BR> +Awake regretful memories<BR> +Of wooded hill and sunlit plain,<BR> +Ringing with anthems to the sun<BR> +Until his arching course was run<BR> +And nightingales took up the strain.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The trees, then dense with leaves and flowers,<BR> +Stood through the long and smiling hours,<BR> +Housing an honest little folk,<BR> +Throbbing with life by day and night,<BR> +Whose voices, vibrant with delight,<BR> +Of happy labour ever spoke.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The trees now spread their haggard arms,<BR> +Bared of their pristine, leafy charms,<BR> +To cold and unresponsive skies<BR> +That neither smile nor weep, but chill<BR> +With cold indifference, and kill<BR> +Hope that all nature underlies.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A dreary moan floats on the wind<BR> +From the gaunt oaks, that, ill defined,<BR> +Show spectral shapes against the sky<BR> +From which the fleeting day has flown<BR> +While dead leaves on the earth are strown<BR> +To mark the summer's mortuary.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Where are the thousand things of life<BR> +That erstwhile made the place all rife<BR> +With busy hum and restless wing<BR> +And turmoil of a world of love?<BR> +The blackbird on her nest above,<BR> +Below, the beetle tunnelling.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Gone with the happiness I knew<BR> +Because the heavens were always blue,<BR> +While the sun shone from day to day<BR> +And winter was not. 'Twas as far<BR> +And nebulous as yonder star<BR> +That throws its cold and sickly ray<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Where once a glorious flood of light<BR> +Ceased only with the falling night.<BR> +Gloom hovers where triumphant joy<BR> +Beatified each passing hour,<BR> +For Winter now with ruthless power<BR> +Fulfils its mission to destroy.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<I>The Voice of Winter.</I><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"I bring not death but rest to flower and tree,<BR> +"And nurse the flame divine, Vitality,<BR> +"That burns immortal since primeval night<BR> +"When the Creator said: 'Let there be light!'<BR> +"And loosed the sun upon his blazing way<BR> +"To roll for ever through an endless day."<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p40"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> + Pain and Death +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Amid the fields of Asphodel<BR> +Musing one day by chance,<BR> +Imperious Jove<BR> +Let memory rove<BR> +And turned his gaze austere<BR> +To where Arcadian shepherds dwell,<BR> +The land of song and dance,<BR> +Where Death was not<BR> +And Time forgot<BR> +To send the rolling year:<BR> +Where man, untried by trouble's test,<BR> +Found the supreme of life in rest.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Immortal man without a care<BR> +Rivalled the gods above:<BR> +Free, effortless,<BR> +In sheer idlesse<BR> +Aping divinity.<BR> +So he was made by Jove to share<BR> +A mortal life and love<BR> +By anguish tried<BR> +And purified<BR> +For Death's cold sanctity.<BR> +Thus 'twas ordained that Death and Pain<BR> +Should raise man to a nobler plane.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p41"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Switzerland<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Land of mountain, lake and river,<BR> +Waterfalls, and rushing streams<BR> +By the wayside where the cattle<BR> +Gather with their bells a-ringing,<BR> +In the day's departing beams.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Land of glorious dawns and sunsets,<BR> +Glowing shades of every hue,<BR> +Mists enchanted, floating, rising,<BR> +Fine-spun softness, tints Olympian,<BR> +Regal purple, virgin blue.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Tinkling zither, echoing jodel,<BR> +Horns that loudly hail the morn<BR> +From the upland's stony pathways<BR> +Where the snowline meets the outposts<BR> +Of the forest, sparse and lorn.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Nether tracts by sunlight heated,<BR> +Show the vines in serried rows,<BR> +Basking through the drowsy summer<BR> +Till their rich and generous vintage<BR> +From the wine-press redly flows.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Land of mountain peaks stupendous,<BR> +Lakes that fade to meet the sky!<BR> +Land for gods, for dreaming poets,<BR> +Fit for men of soaring greatness,<BR> +Sons of gifted ancestry.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Gods I found not, neither poets,<BR> +Only little men who toil<BR> +To supply the passing stranger,<BR> +Bound upon the wheel of pleasure,<BR> +With the produce of the soil.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +What would Bonivard or Calvin<BR> +Think of you, my little men,<BR> +With your minds on money turning,<BR> +While you strain with itching fingers<BR> +Fast the golden calf to pen?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Yet I love your honest peasants<BR> +Dwelling on the mountain slope,<BR> +Slow and stolid, yet the children<BR> +Of the spirit born of freedom,<BR> +Of the patience born of hope.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +For among these humble toilers,<BR> +From the grasping instinct free,<BR> +Still we find the cheerful-hearted,<BR> +Earnest, honest Switzer people<BR> +With the old simplicity.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p44"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Burial at Sea<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +'Twas midnight in the southern seas<BR> +And windless. On the placid deep<BR> +Flashed sparkling phosphorescences,<BR> +While moonbeams, bright in silver bars,<BR> +Lay like a pathway to the stars.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Tireless, our engines, day and night,<BR> +A month had throbbed their endless round<BR> +Without a pause to mark time's flight.<BR> +We heard it all unconsciously<BR> +Till suddenly it ceased to be.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +For now the slowing pulse that beat,<BR> +Stopped in the vessel's iron breast<BR> +And quickly changed my slumber sweet<BR> +To wandering and uneasy thought<BR> +Of what the midnight might have brought.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Gaining the deck, I looked around<BR> +With drowsy eyes and half asleep,<BR> +And saw a something wrapped and bound<BR> +And weighted. I was standing near<BR> +Some hapless seaman's simple bier.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A shapeless form in canvas lay,<BR> +Stretched on a wooden grating low,<BR> +Waiting the word to pass away<BR> +Into the silent depths of sea<BR> +And boundless realm of fantasy.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Before the bulwark's opening stood<BR> +A group about a lantern's light<BR> +Moveless like figures carved in wood,<BR> +Whilst one with gruff solemnity,<BR> +Read prayers for those who die at sea.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Then at the end, with sudden leap,<BR> +That sent the sparkling water high,<BR> +The body plunged into the deep<BR> +Amid a million points of light<BR> +That glittered as it sank from sight.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Scarce had a moment passed, before<BR> +The men with silent haste had gone:<BR> +The engines plied their task, once more,<BR> +The ship her steady course pursued<BR> +Across the moonlit solitude.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The morning dawned, the hours passed by<BR> +And life on board from day to day<BR> +Was changeless as the sea and sky.<BR> +And so unreal the memory seemed<BR> +I wondered if I had not dreamed.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p47"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Master of the Marionettes<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +'Twas at the fair of Epinetz,<BR> +And all the country-side was there.<BR> +Each booth gave out its blatant strains,<BR> +And grinning came the sheepish swains,<BR> +Who greeted with approving stare<BR> +The movements of the marionettes,<BR> +While from his place well hid from sight<BR> +The master laboured, faint and white.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A villain dark, with cloak and plume,<BR> +Through two acts of imbroglio,<BR> +Pursued a maid of laughing mien<BR> +Who played a ribboned tambourine<BR> +And loved a gay incognito,<BR> +By whom the villain met his doom,<BR> +While Pierrot, in a comic part,<BR> +Danced to conceal a breaking heart.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +'Twas late. The snow fell thick and still<BR> +The market place in silence lay.<BR> +The master, tired and overwrought,<BR> +For troupe and self a lodging sought.<BR> +The inn was full. He went his way<BR> +Across the heath; beyond the hill<BR> +Dawn found him wrapped from head to feet<BR> +In winter's snowy winding-sheet.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +And as he sank in deadly sleep,<BR> +His spirit, like a floating haze,<BR> +Wavered a moment o'er the snow,<BR> +A valediction to bestow.<BR> +And solemnly, with wistful gaze,<BR> +The puppets bowed in reverence deep,<BR> +Speeding with farewells and regrets<BR> +The master of the Marionettes.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p49"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Love's Counterfeit<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Old as mankind, yet with immortal youth:<BR> +Unyielding, ardent, sinuous and bold,<BR> +Alluring ever in the guise of truth.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Where is the fire that warmed me yesterday?<BR> +And where the flame that will to-morrow blaze<BR> +To leave me shivering by its ashes gray?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The wind that sweetly sings in ocean caves,<BR> +Then dallies with the wallflowers on the tower<BR> +May fan assassins and sweep over graves.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +What pleasure has a kiss that fever brings?<BR> +Or one grown cold with satisfied desire?<BR> +The love that on the senses fiercely plays,<BR> +Comes like a wind and passes like a fire.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p50"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Most Precious Thing<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +What do men rate at the highest in life?<BR> +Diamonds that glow,<BR> +The finest in water,<BR> +In colour and form:<BR> +Such as an eastern king's favourite wife<BR> +Wears strung in a row,<BR> +Or, as those that in slaughter,<BR> +In sack or in storm<BR> +Of a citadel's heights,<BR> +Are torn from a Khalifah slain in the strife?<BR> +No. Diamonds decline when Love claims his own,<BR> +And freely are bartered for kisses alone.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Some say that virtue is prized more than all,<BR> +Virtue that scorns<BR> +The baseness and ill<BR> +The decalogue cites<BR> +And sternly forbids to great and to small.<BR> +But when on the horns<BR> +Of dilemma, men kill<BR> +Compunction, whose lights<BR> +Die in darkness profound,<BR> +Where mortals are fated to stumble and fall,<BR> +Renouncing for kisses the wisdom of time<BR> +To find in the sacrifice something sublime.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Rank, Riches and Fame have, each in their way,<BR> +A hold on the mind<BR> +That we think is supreme,<BR> +And sweep man along<BR> +To sated ambition's omnipotent sway:<BR> +Till one day we find<BR> +They are vain as a dream,<BR> +Or a beautiful song<BR> +Evanescently grand:<BR> +And the value we see of the brave display<BR> +Of Riches and Fame and Rank at their best,<BR> +Is far below kisses when put to the test.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p52"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Autumn<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +A light mist creeps across the downs:<BR> +A gleam through clouds is faintly seen:<BR> +The grass is wet with heavy dew:<BR> +Sear are the leaves that once were green.<BR> +I walk at midday when the sun<BR> +Throws still some welcome warmth and light:<BR> +A chill comes with the afternoon,<BR> +And icy is the air at night.<BR> +Summer is dead. Its shrouded form<BR> +Lies on the logs that make its pyre,<BR> +And fancy sees its ghost ascend,<BR> +A shadowy wraith above the fire.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p53"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +To L<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Just at this time of great content<BR> +Old memories come between the lights<BR> +To chasten with their whispers faint<BR> +The passing Christmas merriment.<BR> +Yet through it all, one constant note<BR> +Chimes with the season's higher sense,<BR> +Love's influence unchanged remains,<BR> +Fragrant and sweet as frankincense.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p54"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Duty<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +What is a year that comes and goes<BR> +Unless it mark a noble deed?<BR> +We sow the seed<BR> +Of flower or weed:<BR> +Thrice happy he who leaves a rose.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +What is a life in vainness spent,<BR> +That will not bear the common test,<BR> +When, laid to rest<BR> +In earth's cold breast,<BR> +We sleep at last, insentient?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +What is a gift bestowed on man,<BR> +Unless he spreads abroad its light<BR> +And turns its might<BR> +To aid the right<BR> +And strives to do the best he can?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +What matters it if all your toil<BR> +Thankless for ever must remain?<BR> +When by your pain<BR> +One soul will gain<BR> +Somewhat to calm its mortal coil.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p57"></A> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> + Sonnets +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Glastonbury<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Beacon of Christian truth! across the years<BR> +Thy flame undying glows in Faith's clear sight,<BR> +As once the Holy Grail's effulgence bright<BR> +Shone on the pure in heart, the Saints' compeers,<BR> +Who knew no more life's bitterness and fears<BR> +But dwelt thenceforth upon a nobler height,<BR> +Rapt in the radiance of Redemption's light<BR> +That still to the elect of God appears.<BR> +Each Christmas sees, before thy ancient shrine,<BR> +Its sacred thorn burst into glorious flower,<BR> +Of Heaven's immortal life a constant sign,<BR> +Shown to mankind in graciousness benign,<BR> +To make eternal with enlightening power<BR> +The revelation of a truth divine.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p58"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Galileo<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The medieval pomp and civic pride<BR> +Which once made Pisa famous, long have lain<BR> +Forgotten with her pageants brief and vain<BR> +That flashed inconstant on the Arno's tide.<BR> +But, toned to softened hues, her walls abide,<BR> +Enclosing baptistery, tower, and fane<BR> +Wherein yet swings the lamp with brazen chain<BR> +That marked the pendulum's time-measured stride<BR> +And though the centuries, in lengthening roll,<BR> +Show ever fainter through perspective time<BR> +The fame depicted in the mouldering scroll,<BR> +They cannot dim the shining aureole<BR> +Around Galileo's name. Each hourly chime<BR> +Proclaims the law that swung the girandole.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p59"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Stratford-on-Avon<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The hushed repose of some fair temple's shade<BR> +Falls on the pilgrim when he treads the ways<BR> +Where first the world to Shakespeare's childish gaze<BR> +Disclosed its wonders when his footsteps strayed;<BR> +Where, fired with love, he roamed the forest glade,<BR> +Storing clear memories for other days;<BR> +And where, at last, acclaimed and crowned with bays,<BR> +He dropped the lyre no other hand has played.<BR> +Fame watches o'er the deathless poet's sleep,<BR> +Her fanfares echoing still their wild applause,<BR> +While sweet Melpomene and Thalia weep,<BR> +For theirs no more the grandest flight that soars,<BR> +But lower planes where smaller spirits sweep,<BR> +Whose whispers sound like waves on distant shores.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p60"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +To a Daffodil<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Bright messenger of life renewed and love,<BR> +Joy fills thy golden chalice to the brim,<BR> +Fit symbol of the sacred seraphim<BR> +Who with their blazing phalanx headlong drove<BR> +The Star of Morning from his seat above,<BR> +Scattering celestial sparks through voidness dim,<BR> +To fall upon our planet's curving rim<BR> +And bloom as thy fair flowers in mead and grove.<BR> +As victory's anthem stirred the heavenly choir,<BR> +Awaking rapture in triumphant praise,<BR> +So thou in spring dost mortal souls inspire<BR> +With new-born hope and consecrated fire,<BR> +Reflected glory from ethereal rays,<BR> +To make divine the human heart's desire.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p61"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Appian Way<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Road of the dead! whose stately avenue<BR> +Of ruined tombs reveals the glorious past,<BR> +When proud patrician chariots rolling fast<BR> +And litters borne by slaves of ebon hue<BR> +Breasted the throng that ever thicker grew<BR> +And onward hurried where the portal vast<BR> +Showed praetor, tribune and plebeian massed<BR> +With traders from afar beyond the blue.<BR> +Road of the dead! thy voices haunted me,<BR> +Once as I lingered on a starlit night,<BR> +Seeing thy restless ghosts in fantasy:<BR> +And Peter paused again in act to flee:<BR> +With downcast eyes and pale with sudden fright,<BR> +Then whispered low: "Quo vadis Domine?"<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<I>Note</I>.—Tradition has it that Peter in a moment of weakness fled to +escape martyrdom, but was turned back by a vision of his Master. The +little church of Quo vadis Domine on the Appian Way commemorates this. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p62"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +From the Fields<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The village chime drifts on the summer breeze,<BR> +In softened cadence o'er expanses green,<BR> +Across the river, winding slow between<BR> +Broad fields of clover where marauding bees<BR> +Lighten their toil with murmured harmonies,<BR> +Whilst corn in rolling waves of verdant sheen<BR> +Lends rhythmic movement to the rural scene<BR> +And sighs responsive to the wind-stirred trees.<BR> +The mingled voices, like a poet's rhyme,<BR> +Link with their music pensiveness and joy:<BR> +Yet each has meaning in its wayward time:<BR> +The wind of freedom sings in every clime,<BR> +The bee, that labour's sweetness cannot cloy,<BR> +And life is measured by the warning chime.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p63"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Vénus de Milo<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Immortal beauty, touched by fire divine<BR> +That glows as in thy pristine days, I see<BR> +The white-robed priests and virgins joyfully<BR> +Bearing their gifts of honey, flowers and wine,<BR> +With sounding reed and timbrel, to thy shrine,<BR> +Whilst thou, impassive, waitest the decree<BR> +Of heaven, to speak with cold solemnity<BR> +That which unfolds a deity's design.<BR> +Gone are the gods and heroes of the past<BR> +To shine in distant stars with pallid gleam,<BR> +Subdued and faint beyond the darkness vast,<BR> +Their power forgot, their glory overcast;<BR> +Yet thou remainest in thy grace supreme<BR> +And fadeless splendour that was ne'er surpassed.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="p64"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Fire<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +To man primeval, the bright god of day<BR> +Seemed lord of all things, and he bent the knee,<BR> +To adoration moved unconsciously;<BR> +And lo! the instinct which had made him pray,<BR> +Showed him the mystic fire that latent lay<BR> +Within the drying branches of the tree<BR> +And brought the earth, in all its purity,<BR> +The essence of the sun's benignant ray.<BR> +Of Nature's elements the most refined,<BR> +Free from pollution and corruption dire,<BR> +Art thou, O strong and changeless spirit kind.<BR> +Unfailing source of good, thou wast designed<BR> +To be the first, man's reverence to inspire,<BR> +And light the pathway of his groping mind.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +FINIS<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Call of the Mountains, by James E. Pickering + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CALL OF THE MOUNTAINS *** + +***** This file should be named 37859-h.htm or 37859-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/8/5/37859/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</BODY> + +</HTML> + |