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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 Melody of Earth + An Anthology of Garden and Nature Poems From Present-Day Poets + +Author: Various + +Release Date: December 30, 2011 [EBook #38438] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MELODY OF EARTH *** + + + + +Produced by Charlene Taylor, JoAnn Greenwood, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<h1> +THE MELODY OF +EARTH</h1> +<div class="bigskip"></div> + +<h1><small>AN ANTHOLOGY<br /> +OF GARDEN AND NATURE POEMS<br /> +FROM PRESENT-DAY POETS</small></h1> +<div class="hugeskip"></div> + +<h2><small>SELECTED<br /> +AND ARRANGED BY</small><br /><br /> +MRS. WALDO RICHARDS</h2> + +<div class="medskip"></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/titledec.png" width="300" height="215" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="medskip"></div> +<div class="center">BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br /> +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br /> +1918</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="center">COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY GERTRUDE MOORE RICHARDS<br /> + +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<br /> +<div class="medskip"></div> +<i>Published March 1918</i></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="center">TO<br /> + +MY DEAR SISTER<br /> + +A LOVER OF GARDENS</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>FOREWORD</h2> + + +<p>How many of us are conscious of the subtle melodies, "through which the +myriad lispings of the earth find perfect speech"?</p> + +<p>Our poets are listeners; their ears are tuned to the magic call of +secret voices that we who are not singers may never hear. They capture +the "Melody" in chalices of song, and their message is: that whosoever +will bend his ear to earth, may hear from field and furrow, from the +many-bladed grass and the soft-petalled flowers—in the soughing of the +pine tree or the rustle of leaves—an immortal music that revivifies the +soul.</p> + +<p>In the quiet tilled spots of earth, from time immemorial, men have sown +rare seeds of poetic thought that have flowered into song. Amiel wrote +in his <i>Journal</i>: "All seed-sowing is a mysterious thing whether the +seed fall into earth or into souls; man is a husbandman, and his work +rightly understood is to develop life, to sow it everywhere." The poets +are our seed-sowers, and <i>their</i> work is to develop life and to enrich +it. They are never happier than when writing about gardens and the +growing things of earth—at once their symbol and their solace. In turn +gardens have in the poets their happiest interpreters.</p> + +<p>Here I have culled and gathered together songs and poems that reflect +the melody and harmony of Nature's forces. In these days of the world's +travail, let us seek inspiration and content within the delightful +confines of these Gardens of Poetry.</p> + +<div class="signature"><span class="smcap">Gertrude Moore Richards</span></div> + +<p><i>March</i>, 1918</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></p> + +<h2>ACKNOWLEDGMENTS</h2> + + +<p>Mrs. Richards tenders her sincere thanks to the publishers and poets who +have so generously accorded their permission to use copyrighted poems:</p> + +<p>To the American Tract Society for "Seeds" and "The Philosopher's +Garden," John Oxenham, from <i>Bees in Amber</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. D. Appleton & Co. for "The Mocking-Bird," Frank L. Stanton, +from <i>Songs of the Soil</i>.</p> + +<p>To the Baker & Taylor Co. for "June Rapture" and "The Rose," Angela +Morgan, from <i>The Hour has Struck, and Other Poems</i> and <i>Utterance, and +Other Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To The Biddle Press for "The Old-fashioned Garden" and "Poppies," John +Russell Hayes, from <i>Collected Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To the Bobbs-Merrill Company for "Thoughts fer the Discuraged Farmer," +James Whitcomb Riley, from <i>Complete Works</i>.</p> + +<p>To Edmund A. Brooks, Minneapolis, for "Daffodils" and "From a +Car-Window," Ruth Guthrie Harding, from <i>The Lark went Singing, and +Other Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. Burns & Oates and to Alice Meynell (Mrs. Wilfrid Meynell) for +"To a Daisy" and "The Garden" from <i>Collected Poems</i>; for "Rosa +Mystica," Katharine Tynan (Mrs. Henry Albert Hinkson), from <i>The Flower +of Peace</i>.</p> + +<p>To The Century Co. for "Larkspur," James Oppenheim, from <i>War and +Laughter</i>; for "The Tilling," Cale Young Rice, from <i>Trails Sunward</i>; +for "The Haunted Garden," Louis Untermeyer, from <i>Challenge</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. Constable & Co. for "For These," Edward Thomas (Edward +Eastaway), from <i>An Annual of New Poetry</i>.</p> + +<p>To <i>Country Life</i> (London) and to Mrs. Gurney personally for "The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> Lord +God planted a Garden" and "A Garden in Venice," by Dorothy Frances +Gurney, from <i>Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. Thomas Y. Crowell Company for "Love planted a Rose," +Katharine Lee Bates, from <i>America, and Other Poems</i>; for "An Exile's +Garden," Sophie Jewett, from <i>Collected Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. J. M. Dent & Sons for "The Spring Beauties," Helen Gray Cone, +from <i>The Chant of Love, and Other Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. Dodd, Mead & Co. for "In a Garden," Livingston L. Biddle, +from <i>The Understanding Hills</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. George H. Doran Company for "The Cricket in the Path," "Herb +of Grace," and "Rain in the Night," Amelia Josephine Burr, from <i>In Deep +Places</i> and <i>Life and Living</i>; for "A Song in a Garden," "Shade," and +"The Poplars," Theodosia Garrison, from <i>The Dreamers, and Other Poems</i>; +for "Trees," Joyce Kilmer, from <i>Trees, and Other Poems</i>; for "June," +Douglas Malloch, from <i>The Woods</i>; for "Where Love is Life," Duncan +Campbell Scott, from "The Three Songs" in <i>Lundy's Lane, and Other +Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. Doubleday, Page & Co. for "A Prayer," "The Butterfly," and +"Before Mary of Magdala came," Edwin Markham, from <i>The Man with the +Hoe, and Other Poems</i> and <i>The Shoes of Happiness, and Other Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. Duffield & Co. for "The sweet caresses that I gave to you," +Elsa Barker, from <i>The Book of Love</i>; for "What heart but fears a +fragrance?" ("Zauber Duft"), Martha Gilbert Dickinson Bianchi, from +<i>Gabrielle, and Other Poems</i>; for "Spring," Francis Ledwidge, from +<i>Songs of the Fields</i>; for "The White Peacock," William Sharp, from +<i>Songs and Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. E. P. Dutton & Co. for "The South Wind," Siegfried Sassoon, +from <i>The Old Huntsman, and Other Poems</i>; for "The Tree," Evelyn +Underhill, from <i>Theophanies</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. H. W. Fisher & Co. for "A Dream," "The Autumn Rose," +"Fireflies," and "An Evening in Old Japan," Antoinette De Coursey +Patterson, from <i>Sonnets and Quatrains</i> and <i>The Son of Merope, and +Other Poems</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></p> + +<p>To Messrs. Harper & Brothers for "Roses in the Subway," Dana Burnet, +from <i>Poems</i>; for "The Wild Rose," and "If I were a Fairy," Charles +Buxton Going, from <i>Star-Glow and Song</i>; for "The Cardinal-Bird," Arthur +Guiterman, from <i>The Laughing Muse</i>; for "Wild Gardens," Ada Foster +Murray, from <i>Flowers of the Grass</i>; for "The Message," Helen Hay +Whitney, from <i>Sonnets and Songs</i>.</p> + +<p>To Hearst's International Library Company for "Stairways and Gardens" +and "My Flower-Room," Ella Wheeler Wilcox, from <i>World Voices</i>.</p> + +<p>To Mr. William Heinemann for "The Cactus," Laurence Hope, from <i>Stars of +the Desert</i>; for "The July Garden," R. E. Vernède, from <i>War Poems, and +Other Verses</i>; for "A Garden-Piece," Edmund Gosse, from <i>Collected +Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. Henry Holt & Co. for "The Cloister Garden at Certosa," +Richard Burton, from <i>Poems of Earth's Meaning</i>; for "The Furrow," +Padraic Colum, from <i>Wild Earth, and Other Poems</i>; for "The Three Cherry +Trees," Walter de la Mare, from <i>The Listeners, and Other Poems</i>; for "A +Late Walk," "Asking for Roses," "The Pasture," and "Putting in the +Seed," Robert Frost, from <i>A Boy's Will</i>, <i>North of Boston</i>, and <i>A +Mountain Interval</i>; for "Joe-Pyeweed," Louis Untermeyer, from <i>These +Times</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. Houghton Mifflin Company for "The Blooming of the Rose" and +the selection from "Under the Trees," Anna Hempstead Branch, from <i>The +Heart of the Road</i> and <i>The Shoes that Danced, and Other Poems</i>; for +"Spring Patchwork" and "The Flowerphone," Abbie Farwell Brown, from <i>A +Pocketful of Posies</i> and <i>Songs of Sixpence</i>; for "The Morning-Glory" +and "Jewel-Weed," Florence Earle Coates, from <i>Collected Poems</i>; for +"Nightingales" and "A Breath of Mint," Grace Hazard Conkling, from +<i>Afternoons of April</i>; for "The Golden-Rod," Margaret Deland, from <i>The +Old Garden, and Other Verses</i>; for "A Roman Garden," Florence Wilkinson +Evans, from <i>The Ride Home</i>; for "Cobwebs," Louise Imogen Guiney, from +<i>Happy Ending</i>; for "Planting," Robert Livingston, from <i>Murrer and Me</i>; +for "Primavera," George Cabot Lodge, from <i>Poems and Dramas</i>; for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span> "Ever +the Same," "Charm: To be said in the Sun," and "But we did walk in +Eden," Josephine Preston Peabody, from <i>The Singing Leaves</i> and <i>The +Singing Man</i>; for "At Isola Bella" ("A White Peacock"), Jessie B. +Rittenhouse, from <i>The Door of Dreams</i>; for "The Goldfinch," Odell +Shepard, from <i>A Lonely Flute</i>; for "Daisies" and "Witchery," Frank +Dempster Sherman, from <i>Poems</i>; for "Grandmother's Gathering Boneset," +Edith M. Thomas, from <i>In Sunshine Land</i>.</p> + +<p>To Mr. B. W. Huebsch for "Song from 'April,'" Irene Rutherford McLeod, +from <i>Songs to Save a Soul</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. George W. Jacobs & Co. for "Vestured and veiled with +twilight," Rosamund Marriott Watson, from <i>The Heart of a Garden</i>.</p> + +<p>To Mr. R. U. Johnson (publisher) for "Como in April," Robert Underwood +Johnson, from <i>Collected Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To Mr. Mitchell Kennerley for "A Song to Belinda," Theodosia Garrison, +from <i>Earth Cry</i>; for "In a Garden," Horace Holley, from <i>Divinations +and Creations</i>; for "Afternoon on a Hill," "The End of Summer," and "A +Little Ghost," Edna St. Vincent Millay, from <i>Renascence, and Other +Poems</i>; for "Welcome," John Curtis Underwood, from <i>Processionals</i>; for +"Ære Perennius," Charles Hanson Towne, from <i>A Quiet Singer</i>.</p> + +<p>To Mr. Alfred A. Knopf for "The Rain" and "The Ways of Time," William H. +Davies, from <i>Collected Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To The John Lane Company (New York) for "Loveliest of Trees," A. E. +Housman, from <i>A Shropshire Lad</i>; for "May is building her House," and +"I meant to do my work to-day," Richard Le Gallienne, from <i>The Lonely +Dancer</i>; for "The Joy of the Springtime," and "The Time of Roses," +Sarojini Naidu, from <i>The Bird of Time</i> and <i>The Broken Wing</i>; for +"Heart's Garden," Norreys Jephson O'Conor, from <i>Celtic Memories</i>; for +"Serenade," Marjorie L. C. Pickthall, from <i>The Lamp of Poor Souls</i>; for +"There is Strength in the Soil," Arthur Stringer, from <i>Open Water</i>; for +"Midsummer blooms within our quiet garden ways," "It was June in the +garden," and "Within the garden there is healthfulness," Emile +Verhaeren, from <i>The Sunlit Hours</i> and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span> <i>Afternoon</i>; for "In a Garden of +Granada," Thomas Walsh, from <i>Gardens Overseas</i>; for "The Garden of +Mnemosyne," Rosamund Marriott Watson, from <i>Collected Poems</i>; for +"Eden-Hunger," William Watson, from <i>Retrogression, and Other Poems</i>; +for "Spring Planting," Helen Hay Whitney, from <i>Herbs and Apples</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. Little, Brown & Co. for "To a Weed," Gertrude Hall, from <i>The +Age of Fairy Gold</i>; for "The Green o' the Spring," Denis A. McCarthy, +from <i>Voices from Erin</i>; for "The Baby's Valentine," Laura E. Richards, +from <i>In my Nursery</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Company for "God's Garden," Richard +Burton, from <i>Dumb in June</i>.</p> + +<p>To Mr. David McKay for "The Blossomy Barrow" and "Da Thief," Thomas +Augustine Daly, from <i>Madrigali</i>; for "A Soft Day," W. M. Letts, from +<i>Songs from Leinster</i>.</p> + +<p>To The Macmillan Company for "Old Homes," Madison Cawein, from <i>Poems</i>; +for "Up a Hill and a Hill," Fannie Stearns Davis, from <i>Myself and I</i>; +for "In the Womb," A. E. (George William Russell), from <i>Collected +Poems</i>; for "To the Sweetwilliam," Norman Gale, from <i>Collected Poems</i>; +for "Roses," Wilfrid Wilson Gibson, from <i>Battle, and Other Poems</i>; for +"Rest at Noon" and "The Hummingbird," Hermann Hagedorn, from <i>Poems and +Ballads</i>; for "The Mystery," Ralph Hodgson, from <i>Poems</i>; for "The +Dandelion" and "With a Rose, to Brunhilde," Vachel Lindsay, from +<i>General William Booth enters into Heaven, and Other Poems</i> and <i>A Handy +Guide for Beggars</i>; for "A Tulip Garden," "Fringed Gentians," and "The +Fruit Garden Path," Amy Lowell, from <i>Sword Blades and Poppy Seed</i> and +<i>The Dome of Many-coloured Glass</i>; for "It may be so: but let the +unknown be" and "Drop me the Seed," John Masefield, from <i>Lollingdon +Downs, and Other Poems</i>; for "Samuel Gardner," Edgar Lee Masters, from +<i>The Spoon River Anthology</i>; for "Go down to Kew in lilac-time" +(selection from "The Barrel-Organ"), Alfred Noyes, from <i>Poems</i>; for +"The Messenger," James Stephens, from <i>Songs from the Clay</i>; for "The +Champa Flower" and "The Flower-School," Rabindranath Tagore, from <i>The +Crescent Moon</i>; for "Indian Summer," "Alchemy,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span> "The Fountain," +"Barter," and "Wood Song," Sara Teasdale, from <i>Rivers to the Sea</i> and +<i>Love Songs</i>; for "The Message," George Edward Woodberry, from <i>Poems</i>; +for "The Song of Wandering Aengus," W. B. Yeats, from <i>Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To Mr. Elkin Mathews and to Mr. Rowland Thirlmere personally for "A +Shower," from <i>Polyclitus, and Other Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To the Manas Press, Rochester, N.Y., for "November Night" and "Arbutus," +Adelaide Crapsey, from <i>Verses</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. John P. Morton & Co., Louisville, Ky., for "Conscience," +Margaret Steele Anderson, from <i>The Flame in the Wind</i>.</p> + +<p>To Mr. Thomas Bird Mosher for "Beyond," "As in a Rose-Jar," and "My soul +is like a garden-close," Thomas S. Jones, Jr., from <i>The Voice in the +Silence</i> and <i>The Rose-Jar</i>; for "A Seller of Herbs," "The Garden at +Bemerton," and "April Weather," Lizette Woodworth Reese, from <i>A Handful +of Lavender</i>; for "Frost To-night," Edith M. Thomas, from <i>The Flower +from the Ashes</i>; for "In an Oxford Garden" and "Old Gardens," Arthur +Upson, from <i>Octaves in an Oxford Garden</i> and <i>Collected Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. G. P. Putnam's Sons for "In an Old Garden," Madison Cawein, +from <i>Moods and Melodies</i>; for "If I could dig like a Rabbit," Rose +Strong Hubbell, from <i>If I could Fly</i>; for "The Anxious Farmer," Burges +Johnson, from <i>Rhymes of Home</i>; for "In an August Garden," "Amiel's +Garden," and "The Garden," Gertrude Huntington McGiffert, from <i>A +Florentine Cycle</i>.</p> + +<p>To The Reilly & Britton Co. for "Results and Roses," Edgar A. Guest, +from <i>Heap o' Livin'</i>.</p> + +<p>To Mr. Grant Richards for "Loveliest of Trees," A. E. Housman, from <i>A +Shropshire Lad</i>.</p> + +<p>To Mr. A. M. Robertson (San Francisco) for "How many flowers are gently +met," George Sterling, from <i>The Testimony of the Sun, and Other Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. Charles Scribner's Sons for "Miracle," L. H. Bailey, from +<i>Wind and Weather</i>; for "Four O'Clocks" and "Homesick," Julia C. R. +Dorr, from <i>Poems and Last Poems</i>; for "Tell-Tale," Oliver<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span> Herford, +from <i>Overheard in a Garden</i>; for "In the Garden" and "The Deserted +Garden," Pai Ta-Shun (Frederick Peterson), from <i>Chinese Lyrics</i> (Kelly +& Walsh, Hongkong); for "The Child in the Garden," Henry van Dyke, from +<i>Collected Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. Sherman, French & Co. for "The Trees," Samuel Valentine Cole, +from <i>The Great Gray King, and Other Poems</i>; for "Her Garden," Eldredge +Denison, from <i>Ballads and Lyrics</i>; for "Moth-Flowers," Jeanne Robert +Foster, from <i>Wild Apples</i>; for "The Little God," Katharine Howard, from +<i>The Little God, and Other Poems</i>; for "Cloud and Flower," Agnes Lee, +from <i>The Sharing, and Other Poems</i>; for "The Dials" and "The Secret," +Arthur Wallace Peach, from <i>The Hill Trails</i>; for "A Garden Prayer" and +"In Memory's Garden," Thomas Walsh, from <i>The Prison Ships, and Other +Poems</i>; for "Prayer" and "With memories and odors," John Hall Wheelock, +from <i>Love and Liberation</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. Sidgwick & Jackson for "A Song of Fairies," by Elizabeth +Kirby, from <i>The Bridegroom</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. Small, Maynard & Co. for "Trees," "The Garden of Dreams," and +"An April Morning," Bliss Carman, from <i>April Airs</i>; for "The Whisper of +Earth," Edward J. O'Brien, from <i>White Fountains</i>; for "The Dews" and +"Clover," John Banister Tabb, from <i>Lyrics</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. Stewart & Kidd Company, Cincinnati, for "The Golden Bowl," +Mary McMillan, from <i>The Little Golden Fountain, and Other Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. Frederick A. Stokes Company for "A Mocking-Bird" and "The +Early Gods," Witter Bynner, from <i>Grenstone Poems</i>; for "The Proud +Vegetables" and "Iris Flowers," Mary McNeil Fenollosa, from <i>Blossoms +from a Japanese Garden</i>.</p> + +<p>To Mr. T. Fisher Unwin for "Autumnal," Richard Middleton, from <i>Poems +and Songs</i>.</p> + +<p>To Messrs. James T. White & Co. for "Flowers of June," James Terry +White, from <i>A Garden of Remembrance</i>; for "Song of the Weary Traveller," +Blanche Shoemaker Wagstaff, from <i>Narcissus, and Other Poems</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</a></span></p> + +<p>To the <i>Atlantic Monthly</i> for "April Rain," Conrad Aiken; for "Yellow +Warblers," Katharine Lee Bates; for "Safe," Robert Haven Schauffler; for +"The Lilies," George Edward Woodberry.</p> + +<p>To the <i>Century Magazine</i> for "Order," Paul Scott Mowrer.</p> + +<p>To the <i>Christian Science Monitor</i> for "Family Trees," Douglas Malloch.</p> + +<p>To the <i>Churchman</i> for "The Faithless Flowers," Margaret Widdemer.</p> + +<p>To <i>Contemporary Verse</i> for "The Road to the Pool," Grace Hazard +Conkling; for "The Night-Moth," Marion Couthouy Smith.</p> + +<p>To the <i>Craftsman</i> for "The Scissors-Man," Grace Hazard Conkling.</p> + +<p>To the <i>Delineator</i> for "In my Mother's Garden," Margaret Widdemer.</p> + +<p>To <i>Everybody's Magazine</i> for "Years Afterward," Nancy Byrd Turner.</p> + +<p>To <i>Harper's Monthly Magazine</i> for "Progress," Charlotte Becker; for +"Oh, tell me how my garden grows," Mildred Howells; for "A Song for +Winter," Mrs. Schuyler Van Rensselaer.</p> + +<p>To the <i>Independent</i> for "Blind," Harry Kemp; for "The Dusty +Hour-Glass," Amy Lowell; for "A Midsummer Garden," Clinton Scollard.</p> + +<p>To the <i>Los Angeles Graphic</i> for "A White Iris," Pauline B. Barrington.</p> + +<p>To <i>Lyric</i> for "July Midnight," Amy Lowell.</p> + +<p>To <i>Munsey's Magazine</i> for "A Puritan Lady's Garden," Sarah N. Cleghorn; +for "Spring Song," William Griffith; for "The Fountain," Harry Kemp.</p> + +<p>To <i>Mushrooms</i>, published by The John Marshall Company, for "Idealists," +Alfred Kreymborg.</p> + +<p>To <i>Others: A Magazine of New Verse</i> for "Reflections" ("Chinoiseries"), +Amy Lowell; for "Lord, I ask a Garden," R. Arevalo Martinez.</p> + +<p>To the <i>New York Sun</i> for "A Colonial Garden," James B. Kenyon.</p> + +<p>To the <i>New York Times</i> for "Grace for Gardens," Louise Driscoll; for +"The Welcome," Arthur Powell.</p> + +<p>To <i>Poetry: A Magazine of Verse</i> for "Spring Song," Hilda Conkling;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[Pg xvii]</a></span> for +"A Lady of the Snows," Harriet Monroe; for "The Magnolia," José Santos +Chocano, translated by John Pierrepont Rice.</p> + +<p>To <i>Punch</i> for "Lavender," W. W. Blair Fish.</p> + +<p>To <i>St. Nicholas</i> for "Velvets," Hilda Conkling; for "When Swallows +Build," Catherine Parmenter.</p> + +<p>To <i>Scribner's Magazine</i> for "Her Garden," Louis Dodge; for "The Path +that leads to Nowhere," Corinne Roosevelt Robinson.</p> + +<p>To the <i>Touchstone</i> for "Dawn in my Garden," Marguerite Wilkinson.</p> + +<p>To the <i>Yale Review</i> and to Mr. Brian Hooker personally for "Ballade of +the Dreamland Rose" from <i>Poems</i>; also to the <i>Yale Review</i> for the +selection from "Earth," John Hall Wheelock.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Personal acknowledgment is also made to the following poets and +individual owners of copyrights:—</p> + +<p>To Miss Zoë Akins for "The Snow-Gardens."</p> + +<p>To Mr. William Stanley Braithwaite and to Mr. Fletcher personally for +"Spring," John Gould Fletcher, printed in the <i>Poetry Review</i>.</p> + +<p>To M. G. Brereton for "The Old Brocade" from <i>A Celtic Christmas</i>.</p> + +<p>To Miss Abbie Farwell Brown for "The Wall" in manuscript.</p> + +<p>To Mrs. Grace Hazard Conkling for "The Rose" in manuscript.</p> + +<p>To Mr. Miles M. Dawson for "The Thistle" from <i>Songs of the New Time</i>.</p> + +<p>To Violet Fane (Lady Curie) for "To a New Sun-Dial" from <i>Collected +Poems</i>.</p> + +<p>To Mrs. Mary McNeil Fenollosa for "Birth of the Flowers."</p> + +<p>To Mr. Arthur Guiterman for "Tulips" and "Columbines" in manuscript.</p> + +<p>To Miss Mary R. Jewett for "Flowers in the Dark," Sarah Orne Jewett, +from <i>Verses</i> (privately printed).</p> + +<p>To Rev. Arthur Ketchum for "The Spirit of the Birch" in manuscript.</p> + +<p>To Miss Hannah Parker Kimball for "Sun, Cardinal, and Corn Flowers" from +<i>Soul and Sense</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[Pg xviii]</a></span></p> + +<p>To Mr. William Lindsey for "Two Roses" from <i>Apples of Istakhar</i>.</p> + +<p>To Catherine Markham (Mrs. Edwin Markham) for "A Garden Friend."</p> + +<p>To Mr. Lloyd Mifflin for "Draw closer, O ye Trees" from <i>The Flying +Nymph, and Other Verse</i>.</p> + +<p>To Miss Angela Morgan for "The Awakening" in manuscript.</p> + +<p>To E. Nesbit (Mrs. Hubert Bland) for "Baby Seed Song."</p> + +<p>To Mr. Shaemas O Sheel for "While April Rain went by" from <i>The Light +Feet of Goats</i> (The Franklin Press).</p> + +<p>To Mr. Clinton Scollard for "The Crocus Flame," and "Sunflowers," from +<i>Ballads Patriotic and Romantic</i>; for "In the Garden-Close at Mezra" and +"In an Egyptian Garden" from <i>The Lutes of Morn</i>.</p> + +<p>To Mrs. Emily Selinger for "Over the Garden Wall."</p> + +<p>To Mrs. May Riley Smith for "Sorrow in a Garden" in manuscript.</p> + +<p>To the estate of Frank L. Stanton for "Sweetheart-Lady."</p> + +<p>To Mr. Charles Wharton Stork for "Boulders" in manuscript, and for +"Color Notes," printed in <i>Lippincott's Magazine</i>.</p> + +<p>To Mr. Charles Hanson Towne for "A White Rose."</p> + +<p>To Katharine Tynan (Mrs. Henry Albert Hinkson) for "The Choice," +published by Messrs. Sidgwick & Jackson in <i>The Poems of To-day</i>, an +anthology.</p> + +<p>To Mr. Frederic A. Whiting for his own poems "A Rose Lover" and "A +Wonder Garden" in manuscript and for "Kinfolk" by Kate Whiting Patch.</p> + +<p>To Mr. Clement Wood for "Rose-Geranium" from <i>Glad of Earth</i>.</p> + +<p>To Mr. Henry A. Wise Wood for "The Joy of a Summer Day."</p> + + +<div class="center">NOTE</div> + +<p>With very few exceptions only the poets who are writing to-day, or who +have written within a period of ten years, are represented in this +collection; and certain favorite poems peculiarly suited to the spirit +of this book which chanced to be included in <i>High Tide</i> may be missed +here. G. M. R.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[Pg xix]</a></span></p> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<div class="center">WITHIN GARDEN WALLS<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents1"> +<tr><td align="left">Earth</td><td align="left"><i>John Hall Wheelock</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_2">2</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Furrow</td><td align="left"><i>Padraic Colum</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"There is strength in the soil"</td><td align="left"><i>Arthur Stringer</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">In the Womb</td><td align="left">"<i>A. E.</i>"</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Putting in the Seed</td><td align="left"><i>Robert Frost</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Whisper of Earth</td><td align="left"><i>Edward J. O'Brien</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"Within the garden there is healthfulness"</td><td align="left"><i>Emile Verhaeren</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">In a Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Horace Holley</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Shower</td><td align="left"><i>Rowland Thirlmere</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Rain</td><td align="left"><i>William H. Davies</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Dews</td><td align="left"><i>John B. Tabb</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Sonnet</td><td align="left"><i>John Masefield</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Charm: To be said in the Sun</td><td align="left"><i>Josephine Preston Peabody</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Dials</td><td align="left"><i>Arthur Wallace Peach</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">To a New Sundial</td><td align="left"><i>Violet Fane</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Fountain</td><td align="left"><i>Harry Kemp</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr> +</table><br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="center">THE PAGEANTRY OF GARDENS<br /><br /></div> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents2"> +<tr><td align="left">The Birth of the Flowers</td><td align="left"><i>Mary McNeil Fenollosa</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Welcome</td><td align="left"><i>Arthur Powell</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Joy of the Springtime</td><td align="left"><i>Sarojini Naidu</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Spring</td><td align="left"><i>John Gould Fletcher</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">[Pg xx]</a></span>Primavera</td><td align="left"><i>George Cabot Lodge</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Green o' the Spring</td><td align="left"><i>Denis A. McCarthy</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">An April Morning</td><td align="left"><i>Bliss Carman</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"With memories and odors"</td><td align="left"><i>John Hall Wheelock</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">April Rain</td><td align="left"><i>Conrad Aiken</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">While April Rain went by</td><td align="left"><i>Shaemas O Sheel</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Spring</td><td align="left"><i>Francis Ledwidge</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">April Weather</td><td align="left"><i>Lizette Woodworth Reese</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Daffodils</td><td align="left"><i>Ruth Guthrie Harding</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Crocus Flame</td><td align="left"><i>Clinton Scollard</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Early Gods</td><td align="left"><i>Witter Bynner</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Tulip Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Amy Lowell</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Tulips</td><td align="left"><i>Arthur Guiterman</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A White Iris</td><td align="left"><i>Pauline B. Barrington</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">May is building her House</td><td align="left"><i>Richard Le Gallienne</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Magnolia</td><td align="left"><i>José Santos Chocano</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"Go down to Kew in lilac-time"</td><td align="left"><i>Alfred Noyes</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Beyond</td><td align="left"><i>Thomas S. Jones, Jr.</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">June</td><td align="left"><i>Douglas Malloch</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">June Rapture</td><td align="left"><i>Angela Morgan</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Columbines</td><td align="left"><i>Arthur Guiterman</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Morning-Glory</td><td align="left"><i>Florence Earle Coates</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Blossomy Barrow</td><td align="left"><i>T. A. Daly</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Larkspur</td><td align="left"><i>James Oppenheim</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The July Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Robert Ernest Vernède</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"Mid-summer blooms within our quiet garden-ways"</td><td align="left"><i>Emile Verhaeren</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Poppies</td><td align="left"><i>John Russell Hayes</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Garden in August</td><td align="left"><i>Gertrude Huntington McGiffert</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxi" id="Page_xxi">[Pg xxi]</a></span>Sun, Cardinal, and Corn Flowers</td><td align="left"><i>Hannah Parker Kimball</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Sunflowers</td><td align="left"><i>Clinton Scollard</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The End of Summer</td><td align="left"><i>Edna St. Vincent Millay</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Late Walk</td><td align="left"><i>Robert Frost</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Color Notes</td><td align="left"><i>Charles Wharton Stork</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Golden Bowl</td><td align="left"><i>Mary McMillan</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Autumn Rose</td><td align="left"><i>Antoinette De Coursey Patterson</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Indian Summer</td><td align="left"><i>Sara Teasdale</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"Frost to-night"</td><td align="left"><i>Edith M. Thomas</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">November Night</td><td align="left"><i>Adelaide Crapsey</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Snow-Gardens</td><td align="left"><i>Zoë Akins</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Song for Winter</td><td align="left"><i>Mrs. Schuyler Van Rensselaer</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr> +</table><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="center">WINGS AND SONG<br /><br /></div> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents3"> +<tr><td align="left">"I meant to do my work to-day"</td><td align="left"><i>Richard Le Gallienne</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Hummingbird</td><td align="left"><i>Hermann Hagedorn</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Spring Song</td><td align="left"><i>William Griffith</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Nightingales</td><td align="left"><i>Grace Hazard Conkling</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Goldfinch</td><td align="left"><i>Odell Shepard</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Kinfolk</td><td align="left"><i>Kate Whiting Patch</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Mocking-Bird</td><td align="left"><i>Witter Bynner</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Cardinal-Bird</td><td align="left"><i>Arthur Guiterman</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Yellow Warblers</td><td align="left"><i>Katharine Lee Bates</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Witchery</td><td align="left"><i>Frank Dempster Sherman</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Spring Beauties</td><td align="left"><i>Helen Gray Cone</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Mocking-Bird</td><td align="left"><i>Frank L. Stanton</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Messenger</td><td align="left"><i>James Stephens</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Fireflies</td><td align="left"><i>Antoinette De Coursey Patterson</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">July Midnight</td><td align="left"><i>Amy Lowell</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxii" id="Page_xxii">[Pg xxii]</a></span>The Cricket in the Path</td><td align="left"><i>Amelia Josephine Burr</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rest at Noon</td><td align="left"><i>Hermann Hagedorn</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Order</td><td align="left"><i>Paul Scott Mowrer</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Night-Moth</td><td align="left"><i>Marion Couthouy Smith</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Butterfly</td><td align="left"><i>Edwin Markham</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Secret</td><td align="left"><i>Arthur Wallace Peach</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr> +</table><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="center">THE GARDENS OF YESTERDAY<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents4"> +<tr><td align="left">The Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Gertrude Huntington McGiffert</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Old Homes</td><td align="left"><i>Madison Cawein</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Puritan Lady's Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Sarah N. Cleghorn</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Old-fashioned Garden</td><td align="left"><i>John Russell Hayes</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Colonial Garden</td><td align="left"><i>James B. Kenyon</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">In my Mother's Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Margaret Widdemer</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">To the Sweetwilliam</td><td align="left"><i>Norman Gale</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rose-Geranium</td><td align="left"><i>Clement Wood</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Four O'Clocks</td><td align="left"><i>Julia C. R. Dorr</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Asking for Roses</td><td align="left"><i>Robert Frost</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Old Brocade</td><td align="left"><i>M. G. Brereton</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Stairways and Gardens</td><td align="left"><i>Ella Wheeler Wilcox</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Old Mothers</td><td align="left"><i>Charles Ross</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr> +</table><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="center">PASTURES AND HILLSIDES<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents5"> +<tr><td align="left">Song from "April"</td><td align="left"><i>Irene Rutherford McLeod</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Road to the Pool</td><td align="left"><i>Grace Hazard Conkling</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Wild Rose</td><td align="left"><i>Charles Buxton Going</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Up a Hill and a Hill</td><td align="left"><i>Fannie Stearns Davis</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Joys of a Summer Morning</td><td align="left"><i>Henry A. Wise Wood</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">South Wind</td><td align="left"><i>Siegfried Sassoon</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxiii" id="Page_xxiii">[Pg xxiii]</a></span>To a Weed</td><td align="left"><i>Gertrude Hall</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Pasture</td><td align="left"><i>Robert Frost</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Thistle</td><td align="left"><i>Miles M. Dawson</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Clover</td><td align="left"><i>John B. Tabb</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Wild Gardens</td><td align="left"><i>Ada Foster Murray</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Dandelion</td><td align="left"><i>Vachel Lindsay</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Joe-Pyeweed</td><td align="left"><i>Louis Untermeyer</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">To a Daisy</td><td align="left"><i>Alice Meynell</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Soft Day</td><td align="left"><i>W. M. Letts</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Arbutus</td><td align="left"><i>Adelaide Crapsey</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Jewel-Weed</td><td align="left"><i>Florence Earle Coates</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Wall</td><td align="left"><i>Abbie Farwell Brown</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Boulders</td><td align="left"><i>Charles Wharton Stork</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Afternoon on a Hill</td><td align="left"><i>Edna St. Vincent Millay</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Golden-Rod</td><td align="left"><i>Margaret Deland</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Path that leads to Nowhere</td><td align="left"><i>Corinne Roosevelt Robinson</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td></tr> +</table><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="center">LOVERS AND ROSES<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents6"> +<tr><td align="left">The Message</td><td align="left"><i>George Edward Woodberry</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"Where love is life"</td><td align="left"><i>Duncan Campbell Scott</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Time of Roses</td><td align="left"><i>Sarojini Naidu</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Love planted a Rose</td><td align="left"><i>Katharine Lee Bates</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Alice Meynell</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Cloud and Flower</td><td align="left"><i>Agnes Lee</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Progress</td><td align="left"><i>Charlotte Becker</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"But we did walk in Eden"</td><td align="left"><i>Josephine Preston Peabody</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Garden-Piece</td><td align="left"><i>Edmund Gosse</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"How many flowers are gently met"</td><td align="left"><i>George Sterling</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">With a Rose, to Brunhilde</td><td align="left"><i>Vachel Lindsay</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxiv" id="Page_xxiv">[Pg xxiv]</a></span>"My soul is like a garden-close"</td><td align="left"><i>Thomas S. Jones, Jr.</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Dream</td><td align="left"><i>Antoinette De Coursey Patterson</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Rose</td><td align="left"><i>Grace Hazard Conkling</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Prayer</td><td align="left"><i>John Hall Wheelock</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">In a Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Livingston L. Biddle</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Song of Fairies</td><td align="left"><i>Elizabeth Kirby</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Song to Belinda</td><td align="left"><i>Theodosia Garrison</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Sweetheart-Lady</td><td align="left"><i>Frank L. Stanton</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Heart's Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Norreys Jephson O'Conor</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Rose Lover</td><td align="left"><i>Frederic A. Whiting</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Sonnet</td><td align="left"><i>Elsa Barker</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Song in a Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Theodosia Garrison</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"It was June in the garden"</td><td align="left"><i>Emile Verhaeren</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Two Roses</td><td align="left"><i>William Lindsey</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Roses</td><td align="left"><i>Wilfrid Wilson Gibson</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Her Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Louis Dodge</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Ære Perennius</td><td align="left"><i>Charles Hanson Towne</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Ever the Same</td><td align="left"><i>Josephine Preston Peabody</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Message</td><td align="left"><i>Helen Hay Whitney</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Tell-Tale</td><td align="left"><i>Oliver Herford</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Da Thief</td><td align="left"><i>T. A. Daly</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Results and Roses</td><td align="left"><i>Edgar A. Guest</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td></tr> +</table><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="center">UNDERNEATH THE BOUGH<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents7"> +<tr><td align="left">Miracle</td><td align="left"><i>L. H. Bailey</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Awakening</td><td align="left"><i>Angela Morgan</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Shade</td><td align="left"><i>Theodosia Garrison</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Selection from "Under the Trees"</td><td align="left"><i>Anna Hempstead Branch</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Garden Friend</td><td align="left"><i>Catherine Markham</i> (<i>Mrs. Edwin Markham</i>)</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxv" id="Page_xxv">[Pg xxv]</a></span>A Lady of the Snows</td><td align="left"><i>Harriet Monroe</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Tree</td><td align="left"><i>Evelyn Underhill</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"Loveliest of trees"</td><td align="left"><i>A. E. Housman</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Spirit of the Birch</td><td align="left"><i>Arthur Ketchum</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Family Trees</td><td align="left"><i>Douglas Malloch</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Idealists</td><td align="left"><i>Alfred Kreymborg</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"Draw closer, O ye trees"</td><td align="left"><i>Lloyd Mifflin</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Trees</td><td align="left"><i>Bliss Carman</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Trees</td><td align="left"><i>Samuel Valentine Cole</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Poplars</td><td align="left"><i>Theodosia Garrison</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Trees</td><td align="left"><i>Joyce Kilmer</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td></tr> +</table><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="center">THE LOST GARDENS OF THE HEART<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents8"> +<tr><td align="left">As in a Rose-Jar</td><td align="left"><i>Thomas S. Jones, Jr.</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">In an Old Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Madison Cawein</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Garden of Dreams</td><td align="left"><i>Bliss Carman</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Homesick</td><td align="left"><i>Julia C. R. Dorr</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Ways of Time</td><td align="left"><i>William H. Davies</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Midsummer Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Clinton Scollard</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The White Rose</td><td align="left"><i>Charles Hanson Towne</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Haunted Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Louis Untermeyer</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Dusty Hour-Glass</td><td align="left"><i>Amy Lowell</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Song of Wandering Aengus</td><td align="left"><i>W. B. Yeats</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Three Cherry Trees</td><td align="left"><i>Walter de la Mare</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Old Gardens</td><td align="left"><i>Arthur Upson</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Blooming of the Rose</td><td align="left"><i>Anna Hempstead Branch</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Garden of Mnemosyne</td><td align="left"><i>Rosamund Marriott Watson</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Ballade of the Dreamland Rose</td><td align="left"><i>Brian Hooker</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Flowers of June</td><td align="left"><i>James Terry White</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxvi" id="Page_xxvi">[Pg xxvi]</a></span>In Memory's Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Thomas Walsh</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Serenade</td><td align="left"><i>Marjorie L. C. Pickthall</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"What heart but fears a fragrance?"</td><td align="left"><i>Martha Gilbert Dickinson Bianchi</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Years Afterward</td><td align="left"><i>Nancy Byrd Turner</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Autumnal</td><td align="left"><i>Richard Middleton</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"Oh, tell me how my garden grows"</td><td align="left"><i>Mildred Howells</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Her Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Eldredge Denison</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Little Ghost</td><td align="left"><i>Edna St. Vincent Millay</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Roses in the Subway</td><td align="left"><i>Dana Burnet</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td></tr> +</table><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="center">THE GARDEN OVER-SEAS<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents9"> +<tr><td align="left">A Garden Prayer</td><td align="left"><i>Thomas Walsh</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">In the Garden-Close at Mezra</td><td align="left"><i>Clinton Scollard</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Cactus</td><td align="left"><i>Laurence Hope</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The White Peacock</td><td align="left"><i>William Sharp</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">At Isola Bella</td><td align="left"><i>Jessie B. Rittenhouse</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Fountain</td><td align="left"><i>Sara Teasdale</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Champa Flower</td><td align="left"><i>Rabindranath Tagore</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">In an Egyptian Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Clinton Scollard</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Evening in Old Japan</td><td align="left"><i>Antoinette De Coursey Patterson</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Reflections</td><td align="left"><i>Amy Lowell</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">In the Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Pai Ta-Shun</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Deserted Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Pai Ta-Shun</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Roman Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Florence Wilkinson Evans</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Como in April</td><td align="left"><i>Robert Underwood Johnson</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">An Exile's Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Sophie Jewett</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Cloister Garden at Certosa</td><td align="left"><i>Richard Burton</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Garden in Venice</td><td align="left"><i>Dorothy Frances Gurney</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxvii" id="Page_xxvii">[Pg xxvii]</a></span>In a Garden of Granada</td><td align="left"><i>Thomas Walsh</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_210">210</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Amiel's Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Gertrude Huntington McGiffert</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Eden-Hunger</td><td align="left"><i>William Watson</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Garden at Bemerton</td><td align="left"><i>Lizette Woodworth Reese</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">In an Oxford Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Arthur Upson</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td></tr> +</table><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="center">THE HOMELY GARDEN<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents10"> +<tr><td align="left">"Grandmother's gathering boneset"</td><td align="left"><i>Edith M. Thomas</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Breath of Mint</td><td align="left"><i>Grace Hazard Conkling</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Seller of Herbs</td><td align="left"><i>Lizette Woodworth Reese</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Lavender</td><td align="left"><i>W. W. Blair Fish</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Dawn in my Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Marguerite Wilkinson</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Proud Vegetables</td><td align="left"><i>Mary McNeil Fenollosa</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Choice</td><td align="left"><i>Katharine Tynan</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Thoughts fer the Discuraged Farmer</td><td align="left"><i>James Whitcomb Riley</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Grace for Gardens</td><td align="left"><i>Louise Driscoll</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_226">226</a></td></tr> +</table><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="center">SILVER BELLS AND COCKLE SHELLS<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents11"> +<tr><td align="left">Planting</td><td align="left"><i>Robert Livingston</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Spring Patchwork</td><td align="left"><i>Abbie Farwell Brown</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Baby's Valentine</td><td align="left"><i>Laura E. Richards</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_232">232</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Baby Seed Song</td><td align="left"><i>E. Nesbit</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rain in the Night</td><td align="left"><i>Amelia Josephine Burr</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Little Girl's Songs—I, Spring Song; II, Velvets (By a Bed of Pansies)</td><td align="left"><i>Hilda Conkling</i> (<i>six years old</i>)</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">When Swallows Build</td><td align="left"><i>Catherine Parmenter</i> (<i>eleven years old</i>)</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_238">238</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Spring Planting</td><td align="left"><i>Helen Hay Whitney</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">If I could dig like a Rabbit</td><td align="left"><i>Rose Strong Hubbell</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Little God</td><td align="left"><i>Katharine Howard</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_240">240</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxviii" id="Page_xxviii">[Pg xxviii]</a></span>Daisies</td><td align="left"><i>Frank Dempster Sherman</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Anxious Farmer</td><td align="left"><i>Burges Johnson</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_242">242</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Over the Garden Wall</td><td align="left"><i>Emily Selinger</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Flowerphone</td><td align="left"><i>Abbie Farwell Brown</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Faithless Flowers</td><td align="left"><i>Margaret Widdemer</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Flower-School</td><td align="left"><i>Rabindranath Tagore</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Iris Flowers</td><td align="left"><i>Mary McNeil Fenollosa</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">If I were a Fairy</td><td align="left"><i>Charles Buxton Going</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Fringed Gentians</td><td align="left"><i>Amy Lowell</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_250">250</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Scissors-Man</td><td align="left"><i>Grace Hazard Conkling</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_250">250</a></td></tr> +</table><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="center">THE GARDEN OF LIFE<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents12"> +<tr><td align="left">God's Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Richard Burton</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_254">254</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"The Lord God planted a garden"</td><td align="left"><i>Dorothy Frances Gurney</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Lilies</td><td align="left"><i>George E. Woodberry</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Barter</td><td align="left"><i>Sara Teasdale</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_256">256</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Sonnet</td><td align="left"><i>John Masefield</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Tilling</td><td align="left"><i>Cale Young Rice</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_258">258</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Safe</td><td align="left"><i>Robert Haven Schauffler</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Sorrow in a Garden</td><td align="left"><i>May Riley Smith</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_260">260</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Moth-Flowers</td><td align="left"><i>Jeanne Robert Foster</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Alchemy</td><td align="left"><i>Sara Teasdale</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Flowers in the Dark</td><td align="left"><i>Sarah Orne Jewett</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Welcome</td><td align="left"><i>John Curtis Underwood</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Child in the Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Henry van Dyke</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Wonder Garden</td><td align="left"><i>Frederic A. Whiting</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">From a Car-Window</td><td align="left"><i>Ruth Guthrie Harding</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Song of the Weary Traveller</td><td align="left"><i>Blanche Shoemaker Wagstaff</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Cobwebs</td><td align="left"><i>Louise Imogen Guiney</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxix" id="Page_xxix">[Pg xxix]</a></span>Blind</td><td align="left"><i>Harry Kemp</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_269">269</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Herb of Grace</td><td align="left"><i>Amelia Josephine Burr</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Before Mary of Magdala came</td><td align="left"><i>Edwin Markham</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Conscience</td><td align="left"><i>Margaret Steele Anderson</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rosa Mystica</td><td align="left"><i>Katharine Tynan</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Mystery</td><td align="left"><i>Ralph Hodgson</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Rose</td><td align="left"><i>Angela Morgan</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">For These</td><td align="left"><i>Edward Thomas</i> (<i>Edward Eastaway</i>)</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_276">276</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Samuel Gardner</td><td align="left"><i>Edgar Lee Masters</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Seeds</td><td align="left"><i>John Oxenham</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_278">278</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"Lord, I ask a Garden"</td><td align="left"><i>R. Arevalo Martinez</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_279">279</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">My Flower-Room</td><td align="left"><i>Ella Wheeler Wilcox</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_280">280</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"Vestured and veiled with twilight"</td><td align="left"><i>Rosamund Marriott Watson</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_282">282</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Fruit Garden Path</td><td align="left"><i>Amy Lowell</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Wood Song</td><td align="left"><i>Sara Teasdale</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_284">284</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">A Prayer</td><td align="left"><i>Edwin Markham</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_284">284</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Philosopher's Garden</td><td align="left"><i>John Oxenham</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_285">285</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="left"> </td><td align="left"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Index of Titles</td><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Index of Authors</td><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_297">297</a></td></tr> +</table></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxx" id="Page_xxx">[Pg xxx]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2> +WITHIN GARDEN WALLS</h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>EARTH</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Grasshopper, your fairy song</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And my poem alike belong</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To the deep and silent earth</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>From which all poetry has birth;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>All we say and all we sing</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Is but as the murmuring</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Of that drowsy heart of hers</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>When from her deep dream she stirs:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>If we sorrow, or rejoice,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>You and I are but her voice.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Deftly does the dust express</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>In mind her hidden loveliness,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And from her cool silence stream</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The cricket's cry and Dante's dream:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>For the earth that breeds the trees</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Breeds cities too, and symphonies,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Equally her beauty flows</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Into a savior or a rose.</i><br /></span> +</div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Even as the growing grass</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Up from the soil religions pass,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And the field that bears the rye</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Bears parables and prophecy.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Out of the earth the poem grows</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Like the lily, or the rose;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And all that man is or yet may be,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Is but herself in agony</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Toiling up the steep ascent</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Towards the complete accomplishment</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>When all dust shall be, the whole</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Universe, one conscious soul.</i><br /></span> +</div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Yea, and this my poem, too,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Is part of her as dust and dew,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Wherein herself she doth declare</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Through my lips, and say her prayer.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">John Hall Wheelock</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE FURROW</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stride the hill, sower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up to the sky-ridge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flinging the seed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scattering, exultant!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mouthing great rhythms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the long sea beats<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the wide shore, behind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ridge of the hillside.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Below in the darkness—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The slumber of mothers—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cradles at rest—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fire-seed sleeping<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in white ashes!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Give to darkness and sleep:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sower, O seer!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me to the Earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the seed I would enter.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O! the growth thro' the silence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From strength to new strength;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then the strong bursting forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against primal forces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To laugh in the sunshine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gladden the world!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Padraic Colum</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>"THERE IS STRENGTH IN THE SOIL"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is strength in the soil;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the earth there is laughter and youth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is solace and hope in the upturned loam.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lo, I shall plant my soul in it here like a seed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And forth it shall come to me as a flower of song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I know it is good to get back to the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is orderly, placid, all-patient!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is good to know how quiet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And noncommittal it breathes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This ample and opulent bosom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That must some day nurse us all!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Arthur Stringer</span></div> + + +<h3>IN THE WOMB</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Still rests the heavy share on the dark soil:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the black mould thick the dew-damp lies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The horse waits patient: from his lowly toil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ploughboy to the morning lifts his eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The unbudding hedgerows dark against day's fires<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glitter with gold-lit crystals: on the rim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the unregarding city's spires<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lonely beauty shines alone for him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And day by day the dawn or dark unfolds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And feeds with beauty eyes that cannot see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How in her womb the mighty mother moulds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The infant spirit for eternity.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +"A. E."<br /> +(<span class="smcap">George William Russell</span>)</div> + + +<h3>PUTTING IN THE SEED</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">You come to fetch me from my work to-night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When supper's on the table, and we'll see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I can leave off burying the white<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft petals fallen from the apple tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">(Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea;)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And go along with you ere you lose sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of what you came for and become like me,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Slave to a springtime passion for the earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On through the watching for that early birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The sturdy seedling with arched body comes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Robert Frost</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE WHISPER OF EARTH</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">In the misty hollow, shyly greening branches<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soften to the south wind, bending to the rain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the moistened earthland flutter little whispers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathing hidden beauty, innocent of stain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Little plucking fingers tremble through the grasses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little silent voices sigh the dawn of spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little burning earth-flames break the awful stillness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little crying wind-sounds come before the King.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Powers, dominations urge the budding of the crocus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cherubim are singing in the moist cool stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seraphim are calling through the channels of the lily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God has heard the earth-cry and journeys to His throne.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Edward J. O'Brien</span></div> + + +<h3>"WITHIN THE GARDEN THERE IS +HEALTHFULNESS"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Within the garden there is healthfulness.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i4">Lavishly it gives it us<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In light that cleaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To every movement of its thousand hands<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of palms and leaves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And the good shade where it accepts,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">After long journeyings,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Our steps,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Pours on the weary limb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A force of life and sweetness like<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Its mosses dim.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">When the lake is playing with the wind and sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">It seems a crimson heart<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Within, all ardent, has begun<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To throb with the moving wave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gladiolus and the fervent rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which in their splendor move unshadowèd,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Upon their vital stems expose<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Their cups of gold and red.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Within the garden there is healthfulness.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Emile Verhaeren</span></div> + + +<h3>IN A GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I stood within a Garden during rain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uncovering to the drops my lifted brow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O joyous fancy, to imagine now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I slip, with trees and clouds, the social chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone with nature, naught to lose or gain<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Nor even to become; no, just to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A moment's personal essence, wholly free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From needs that mold the heart to forms of pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arise, I cried, and celebrate the hour!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Acclaim serener gladness; if it fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New courage, nobler vision, will survive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I have known my kinship to the flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My brotherhood with rain, and in this vale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have been a moment's friend to all alive.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Horace Holley</span></div> + + +<h3>A SHOWER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">You may have seen, when winds were high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hesitant buds would not unfold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In garden-borders chill and dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright with the Easter-lilies' gold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Then, suddenly, would come a shower—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The big breeze veering to the west—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And happier music filled the bower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the thrush's hidden nest:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The elm-tree's inconspicuous bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vanished amidst her little leaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In box and bay a fragrant gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inspired the wren's recitatives:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The woods assumed their delicate green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spoke in songs that brought you bliss:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay, and your withered heart has been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quickened on such a day as this!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Rowland Thirlmere</span></div> + + +<h3>THE RAIN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I hear leaves drinking Rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I hear rich leaves on top<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Giving the poor beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Drop after drop;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis a sweet noise to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These green leaves drinking near.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And when the Sun comes out,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">After this Rain shall stop,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wondrous Light will fill<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Each dark, round drop;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hope the Sun shines bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill be a lovely sight.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">William H. Davies</span></div> + + +<h3>THE DEWS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">We come and go, as the breezes blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But whence or where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath ne'er been told in the legends old<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By the dreaming seer.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The welcome rain to the parching plain<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the languid leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rattling hail on the burnished mail<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the serried sheaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silent snow on the wintry brow<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the aged year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wends each his way in the track of day<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From a clouded sphere:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still as the fog in the dismal bog<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where the shifting sheen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the spectral lamp lights the marshes damp,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With a flash unseen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We drip through the night from the starlids bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the sleeping flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And deep in their breast is our perfumed rest<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Through the darkened hours:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But again with the day we are up and away<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With our stolen dyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To paint all the shrouds of the drifting clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the eastern skies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">John B. Tabb</span></div> + + +<h3>SONNET</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It may be so; but let the unknown be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We, on this earth, are servants of the sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of the sun comes all the quick in me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His golden touch is life to everyone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +<span class="i0">His power it is that makes us spin through space,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His youth is April and his manhood bread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty is but a looking on his face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He clears the mind, he makes the roses red.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">What he may be, who knows? But we are his,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We roll through nothing round him, year by year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The withering leaves upon a tree which is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each with his greed, his little power, his fear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">What we may be, who knows? But everyone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is dust on dust a servant of the sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">John Masefield</span></div> + + +<h3>CHARM: TO BE SAID IN THE SUN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I reach my arms up, to the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And golden vine on vine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sunlight showered wild and high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around my brows I twine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I wreathe, I wind it everywhere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The burning radiancy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of brightness that no eye may dare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be the strength of me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Come, redness of the crystalline,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come green, come hither blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And violet—all alive within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I have need of you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Come honey-hue and flush of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through the pallor run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pulse on pulse of manifold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New largess of the Sun!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">O steep the silence till it sing!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O glories from the height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come down, where I am garlanding<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With light, a child of light!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Josephine Preston Peabody</span></div> + + +<h3>THE DIALS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">With fingers softer than the touch of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sundial writes the passing of the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hours unfolding slow to twilight gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gleaming moments vanish in a breath.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But sunny hours alone the sundial names;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All unrecorded are the midnight spans<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vain within the dusk the watcher scans<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The marble face; thereon no record flames.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">So on eternal dials that God may hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those more humble in the human heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No bitter deeds their passing hours impart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kind deeds alone are marked in fadeless gold!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Arthur Wallace Peach</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>TO A NEW SUNDIAL</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Oh, Sundial, you should not be young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or fresh and fair, or spick and span!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None should remember when began<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your tenure here, nor whence you sprung!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Like ancient cromlech notch'd and scarr'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would have had you sadly tow'r<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above this world of leaf and flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All ivy-tress'd and lichen-starr'd;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Ambassador of Time and Fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In contrast stern to bud and bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeming half temple and half tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wholly solemn and sedate;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Till, one with God's own works on earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lake, the vale, the mountain-brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We might have come to count you now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose home was here before our birth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But lo! a priggish, upstart thing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set here to tell so old a truth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How fleeting are our days of youth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>You</i>, that were only made last spring!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Go to!... What sermon can you preach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, mushroom—mentor pert and new?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are too old to learn of you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What you are all too young to teach!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet, Sundial, you and I may swear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternal friendship, none the less,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I'll respect your youthfulness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you'll forgive my silver hair!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Violet Fane</span></div> + + +<h3>THE FOUNTAIN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I thought my garden finished. I beheld<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each bush bee-visited; a green charm quelled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The louder winds to music; soft boughs made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Patches of silver dusk and purple shade—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet I felt a lack of something still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There was a little, sleepy-footed rill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lapsed among sun-burnished stones, where slept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fish, rainbow-scaled, while dragon-flies, adept,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Balanced on bending grass.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i22">All perfect? No.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My garden lacked a fountain's upward flow.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I coaxed the brook's young Naiad to resign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her meadow wildness, building her a shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of worship, where each ravished waif of air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might wanton in the brightness of her hair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">So here my fountain flows, loved of the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To every vagrant, aimless gust inclined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet constant ever to its source. It greets<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The face of morning, wavering windy sheets<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of woven silver; sheer it climbs the noon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shaft of bronze; and underneath the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It sleeps in pearl and opal. In the storm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It streams far out, a wild, gray, blowing form;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While on calm days it heaps above the lake,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pelting the dreaming lilies half awake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pattering jewels on each wide, green frond,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Recurrent pyramids of diamond!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Harry Kemp</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span><br /></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE PAGEANTRY OF GARDENS</h2> + +<h3>THE BIRTH OF THE FLOWERS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>God spoke! and from the arid scene</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Sprang rich and verdant bowers,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Till all the earth was soft with green,—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>He smiled; and there were flowers.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Mary McNeil Fenollosa</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE WELCOME</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">God spreads a carpet soft and green<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er which we pass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thick-piled mat of jeweled sheen—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And that is Grass.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Delightful music woos the ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The grass is stirred<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down to the heart of every spear—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ah, that's a Bird.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Clouds roll before a blue immense<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That stretches high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lends the soul exalted sense—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That scroll's a Sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Green rollers flaunt their sparkling crests;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Their jubilee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Extols brave Captains and their quests—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And that is Sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">New-leaping grass, the feathery flute,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The sapphire ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea's full-voiced, profound salute,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ah, this is Spring!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Arthur Powell</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE JOY OF THE SPRINGTIME</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Springtime, O Springtime, what is your essence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lilt of a bulbul, the laugh of a rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dance of the dew on the wings of a moonbeam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voice of the zephyr that sings as he goes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hope of a bride or the dream of a maiden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watching the petals of gladness unclose?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Springtime, O Springtime, what is your secret,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bliss at the core of your magical mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That quickens the pulse of the morning to wonder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hastens the seeds of all beauty to birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That captures the heavens and conquers to blossom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The roots of delight in the heart of the earth?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Sarojini Naidu</span></div> + + +<h3>SPRING</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">At the first hour, it was as if one said, "Arise."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the second hour, it was as if one said, "Go forth."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the winter constellations that are like patient ox-eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sank below the white horizon at the north.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">At the third hour, it was as if one said, "I thirst;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the fourth hour, all the earth was still:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then the clouds suddenly swung over, stooped, and burst;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the rain flooded valley, plain and hill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +<span class="i0">At the fifth hour, darkness took the throne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the sixth hour, the earth shook and the wind cried;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the seventh hour, the hidden seed was sown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the eighth hour, it gave up the ghost and died.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">At the ninth hour, they sealed up the tomb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the earth was then silent for the space of three hours.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But at the twelfth hour, a single lily from the gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shot forth, and was followed by a whole host of flowers.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">John Gould Fletcher</span></div> + + +<h3>PRIMAVERA</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Spirit immortal of mortality,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Imperishable faith, calm miracle<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of resurrection, truth no tongue can tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No brain conceive,—now witnessed utterly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this new testament of earth and sea,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To us thy gospel! Where the acorn fell<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The oak-tree springs: no seed is infidel!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Once more, O Wonder, flower and field and tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reveal thy secret and significance!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And we, who share unutterable things<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And feel the foretaste of eternity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply shall learn thy meaning and perchance<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Set free the soul to lift immortal wings<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And cross the frontiers of infinity.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">George Cabot Lodge</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE GREEN O' THE SPRING</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Sure, afther all the winther,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' afther all the snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis fine to see the sunshine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis fine to feel its glow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis fine to see the buds break<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On boughs that bare have been—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But best of all to Irish eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis grand to see the green!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Sure, afther all the winther,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' afther all the snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis fine to hear the brooks sing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As on their way they go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis fine to hear at mornin'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The voice of robineen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But best of all to Irish eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis grand to see the green!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Sure, here in grim New England<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The spring is always slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' every bit o' green grass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is kilt wid frost and snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, many a heart is weary<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The winther days, I ween<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh, the joy when springtime comes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' brings the blessed green!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Denis A. McCarthy</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>AN APRIL MORNING</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Once more in misted April<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world is growing green.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along the winding river<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The plumey willows lean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Beyond the sweeping meadows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The looming mountains rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like battlements of dreamland<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the brooding skies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">In every wooded valley<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The buds are breaking through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though the heart of all things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No languor ever knew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The golden-wings and bluebirds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call to their heavenly choirs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pines are blued and drifted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With smoke of brushwood fires.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And in my sister's garden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where little breezes run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden daffodillies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are blowing in the sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Bliss Carman</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>"WITH MEMORIES AND ODORS"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">With memories and odors<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wind is warm and mild;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth is like a mother<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where leaps the unborn child.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The grackles flock returning<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like rain-clouds from the south.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the world lies yearning<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Toward summer, mouth to mouth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">How soft the hills and hazy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seen through the open door!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crocus shines, a virgin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">White from the grassy floor.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The children whirl around in a ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And laugh and sing, and dance and sing:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the blackbird whistles clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">O clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"The Spring, the Spring!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">John Hall Wheelock</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>APRIL RAIN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Fall, rain! You are the blood of coming blossom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You shall be music in the young birds' throats,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You shall be breaking, soon, in silver notes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A virgin laughter in the young earth's bosom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, that I could with you reënter earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pass through her heart and come again to sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of her fertile dark to sing and run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In loveliness and fragrance of new mirth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fall, rain! Into the dust I go with you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pierce the remaining snows with subtle fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warming the frozen roots with soft desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreams of ascending leaves and flowers new.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am no longer body,—I am blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeking for some new loveliness of shape;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark loveliness that dreams of new escape,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun-surrender of unclosing bud.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take me, O Earth! and make me what you will;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel my heart with mingled music fill.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Conrad Aiken</span></div> + + +<h3>WHILE APRIL RAIN WENT BY</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Under a budding hedge I hid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While April rain went by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But little drops came slipping through,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fresh from a laughing sky:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A-many little scurrying drops,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Laughing the song they sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon found me where I sought to hide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pelted me with Spring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And I lay back and let them pelt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dreamt deliciously<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of lusty leaves and lady-blossoms<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And baby-buds I'd see<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">When April rain had laughed the land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Out of its wintry way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And coaxed all growing things to greet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With gracious garb the May.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Shaemas O Sheel</span></div> + + +<h3>SPRING</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The dews drip roses on the meadows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the meek daisies dot the sward.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Æolus whispers through the shadows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Behold the handmaid of the Lord!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden news the skylark waketh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And 'thwart the heavens his flight is curled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Attend ye as the first note breaketh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And chrism droppeth on the world.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The velvet dusk still haunts the stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Pan makes music light and gay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mountain mist hath caught a beam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And slowly weeps itself away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young leaf bursts its chrysalis<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gem-like hangs upon the bough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the mad throstle sings in bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er earth's rejuvenated brow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="center"><span class="smcap">ENVOI</span></div> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Slowly fall, O golden sands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slowly fall and let me sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrapt in the ecstasy of youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild delights of Spring.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Francis Ledwidge</span></div> + + +<h3>APRIL WEATHER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Oh, hush, my heart, and take thine ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For here is April weather!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The daffodils beneath the trees<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are all a-row together.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The thrush is back with his old note;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The scarlet tulip blowing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And white—ay, white as my love's throat—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dogwood boughs are glowing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The lilac bush is sweet again;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down every wind that passes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fly flakes from hedgerow and from lane;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bees are in the grasses.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And Grief goes out, and Joy comes in,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Care is but a feather;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every lad his love can win,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For here is April weather.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Lizette Woodworth Reese</span></div> + + +<h3>DAFFODILS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There flames the first gay daffodil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where winter-long the snows have lain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who buried Love, all spent and still?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There flames the first gay daffodil.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go, Love's alive on yonder hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yours for asking, joy and pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There flames the first gay daffodil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where winter-long the snows have lain!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Ruth Guthrie Harding</span></div> + + +<h3>THE CROCUS FLAME</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The Easter sunrise flung a bar of gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the awakening wold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What was thine answer, O thou brooding earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What token of re-birth,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of tender vernal mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou the long-prisoned in the bonds of cold?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Under the kindling panoply which God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spreads over tree and clod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I looked far abroad.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Umber the sodden reaches seemed and seer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As when the dying year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With rime-white sandals shod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faltered and fell upon its frozen bier.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some rathe quickening, some divine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Renascence not a sign!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And yet, and yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With touch of viol-chord, with mellow fret,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lyric South amid the bough-tops stirred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one lone bird<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An unexpected jet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of song projected through the morning blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though some wondrous hidden thing it knew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And so I gathered heart, and cried again:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O earth, make plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At this matutinal hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The triumph and the power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of life eternal over death and pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although it be but by some simple flower!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And then, with sudden light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was dowered my veilèd sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I beheld in a sequestered place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A slender crocus show its sun-bright face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O miracle of Grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth's Easter answer came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The revelation of transfiguring Might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that small crocus flame!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Clinton Scollard</span></div> + + +<h3>THE EARLY GODS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It is the time of violets.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is the very day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in the shadow of the wood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spring shall have her say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembering how the early gods<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Came up the violet way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are there not violets<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gods—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-day?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Witter Bynner</span></div> + + +<h3>A TULIP GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Guarded within the old red wall's embrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Marshalled like soldiers in gay company,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tulips stand arrayed. Here infantry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wheels out into the sunlight. What bold grace<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Sets off their tunics, white with crimson lace!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here are platoons of gold-frocked cavalry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With scarlet sabres tossing in the eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of purple batteries, every gun in place.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forward they come, with flaunting colors spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With torches burning, stepping out in time<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To some quick, unheard march. Our ears are dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We cannot catch the tune. In pantomime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Parades the army. With our utmost powers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We hear the wind stream through a bed of flowers.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Amy Lowell</span></div> + + +<h3>TULIPS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Brave little fellows in crimsons and yellows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Coming while breezes of April are cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winter can't freeze you, he flies when he sees you<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thrusting your spears through the redolent mold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Jolly Dutch flowers, rejoicing in showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Drink! ere the pageant of Spring passes by!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hold your carousals to Robin's espousals,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lifting rich cups for the wine of the sky!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Dignified urbans in glossy silk turbans,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Burgherlike blossoms of gardens and squares,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nodding so solemn by fountain and column,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What is the talk of your weighty affairs?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Pollen and honey (for such is your money),—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gossip and freight of the chaffering bee,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prospects of growing,—what colors are showing,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">News of rare tulips from over the sea?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Loitering near you, how often I hear you,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Just ere your petals at twilight are furled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laugh through the grasses while Evelyn passes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"There goes the loveliest flower in the world!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Arthur Guiterman</span></div> + + +<h3>A WHITE IRIS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Tall and clothed in samite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chaste and pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In smooth armor,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your head held high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its helmet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of silver:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jean D'Arc riding<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the sword blades!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Has Spring for you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrought visions,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it did for her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a garden?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Pauline B. Barrington</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>MAY IS BUILDING HER HOUSE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">May is building her house. With apple blooms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is roofing over the glimmering rooms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the oak and the beech hath she builded its beams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, spinning all day at her secret looms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With arras of leaves each wind-swayed wall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She pictureth over, and peopleth it all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With echoes and dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And singing of streams.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">May is building her house of petal and blade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the roots of the oak is the flooring made,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a carpet of mosses and lichen and clover,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each small miracle over and over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tender, travelling green things strayed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Her windows the morning and evening star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her rustling doorways, ever ajar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the coming and going<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of fair things blowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thresholds of the four winds are.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">May is building her house. From the dust of things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is making the songs and the flowers and the wings;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From October's tossed and trodden gold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She is making the young year out of the old;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Yea! out of winter's flying sleet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She is making all the summer sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the brown leaves spurned of November's feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is changing back again to spring's.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Richard Le Gallienne</span></div> + + +<h3>THE MAGNOLIA</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Deep in the wood, of scent and song the daughter,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Perfect and bright is the magnolia born;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White as a flake of foam upon still water,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">White as soft fleece upon rough brambles torn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Hers is a cup a workman might have fashioned<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Grecian marble in an age remote.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hers is a beauty perfect and impassioned,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As when a woman bares her rounded throat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There is a tale of how the moon, her lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Holds her enchanted by some magic spell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something about a dove that broods above her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or dies within her breast—I cannot tell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I cannot say where I have heard the story,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon what poet's lips; but this I know:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her heart is like a pearl's, or like the glory<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of moonbeams frozen on the spotless snow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">José Santos Chocano</span><br /> + +(<i>Translated by John Pierrepont Rice</i>)</div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>"GO DOWN TO KEW IN LILAC-TIME"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Go down to Kew in lilac-time, in lilac-time, in lilac-time;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you shall wander hand in hand with love in summer's wonderland;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London!).<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The cherry-trees are seas of bloom and soft perfume and sweet perfume,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cherry-trees are seas of bloom (and oh, so near to London!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there they say, when dawn is high and all the world's a blaze of sky<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cuckoo, though he's very shy, will sing a song for London.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The Dorian nightingale is rare, and yet they say you'll hear him there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At Kew, at Kew in lilac-time (and oh, so near to London!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The linnet and the throstle, too, and after dark the long halloo<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And golden-eyed <i>tu-whit</i>, <i>tu-whoo</i> of owls that ogle London.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">For Noah hardly knew a bird of any kind that isn't heard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At Kew, at Kew in lilac-time (and oh, so near to London!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the rose begins to pout and all the chestnut spires are out<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You'll hear the rest without a doubt, all chorussing for London:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Come down to Kew in lilac-time, in lilac-time, in lilac-time;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Come down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London!)</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And you shall wander hand in hand with love in summer's wonderland;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Come down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London!).</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Alfred Noyes</span></div> + + +<h3>BEYOND</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I wonder if the tides of Spring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will always bring me back again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mute rapture at the simple thing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of lilacs blowing in the rain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">If so, my heart will ever be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Above all fear, for I shall know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a greater mystery<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beyond the time when lilacs blow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Thomas S. Jones, Jr.</span></div> + + +<h3>JUNE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I knew that you were coming, June, I knew that you were coming!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the alders by the stream I heard a partridge drumming;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard a partridge drumming, June, a welcome with his wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And felt a softness in the air half Summer's and half Spring's.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I knew that you were nearing, June, I knew that you were nearing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw it in the bursting buds of roses in the clearing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The roses in the clearing, June, were blushing pink and red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they had heard upon the hills the echo of your tread.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I knew that you were coming, June, I knew that you were coming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ev'ry warbler in the wood a song of joy was humming.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know that you are here, June, I know that you are here—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fairy month, the merry month, the laughter of the year!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Douglas Malloch</span></div> + + +<h3>JUNE RAPTURE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Green! What a world of green! My startled soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Panting for beauty long denied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaps in a passion of high gratitude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meet the wild embraces of the wood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rushes and flings itself upon the whole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mad miracle of green, with senses wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clings to the glory, hugs and holds it fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one who finds a long-lost love at last.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Billows of green that break upon the sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In bounteous crescendos of delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wind-hurried verdure hastening up the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To where the sun its highest rapture spills;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cascades of color tumbling down the height<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In golden gushes of delicious light—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +<span class="i0">God! Can I bear the beauty of this day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or shall I be swept utterly away?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Hush—here are deeps of green, where rapture stills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sheathing itself in veils of amber dusk;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathing a silence suffocating, sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein a million hidden pulses beat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look! How the very air takes fire and thrills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hint of heaven pushing through her husk.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, joy's not stopped! 'Tis only more intense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here where Creation's ardors all condense;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here where I crush me to the radiant sod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close-folded to the very nerves of God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See now—I hold my heart against this tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The life that thrills its trembling leaves thrills me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's not a pleasure pulsing through its veins<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That does not sting me with ecstatic pains.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No twig or tracery, however fine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can bear a tale of joy exceeding mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Praised be the gods that made my spirit mad;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kept me aflame and raw to beauty's touch.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lashed me and scourged me with the whip of fate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave me so often agony for mate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tore from my heart the things that make men glad—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Praised be the gods! If I at last, by such<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Relentless means may know the sacred bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The anguished rapture of an hour like this.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Smite me, O Life, and bruise me if thou must;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mock me and starve me with thy bitter crust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But keep me thus aquiver and awake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enamoured of my life for living's sake!<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>This were the tragedy</i>—that I should pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dull and indifferent through the glowing grass.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this the reason I was born, I say—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I might know the passion of this day!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Angela Morgan</span></div> + + +<h3>COLUMBINES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i8">Late were we sleeping<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Deep in the mold,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Clasping and keeping<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Yesterday's gold—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Hoardings of sunshine,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Crimson and gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreaming of light till our dream became<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aureate bells and beakers of flame,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Splashed with the splendor of wine of flame.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Raindrop awoke us;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Zephyr bespoke us;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Chick-a-dee called us,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Bobolink called us,—<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Then we came.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Arthur Guiterman</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE MORNING-GLORY</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Was it worth while to paint so fair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy every leaf—to vein with faultless art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each petal, taking the boon light and air<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of summer so to heart?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">To bring thy beauty unto perfect flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then, like a passing fragrance or a smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vanish away, beyond recovery's power—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was it, frail bloom, worth while?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy silence answers: "Life was mine!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I, who pass without regret or grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have cared the more to make my moment fine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Because it was so brief.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">"In its first radiance I have seen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sun!—why tarry then till comes the night?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I go my way, content that I have been<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Part of the morning light!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Florence Earle Coates</span></div> + + +<h3>THE BLOSSOMY BARROW</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Antonio Sarto ees buildin' a wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But maybe he nevva gon' feenish at all.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Eet sure wonta be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Teell flower an' tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' all kinda growin' theengs sleep een da Fall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +<span class="i0">You see, deesa 'Tonio always ees want'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To leeve on a farm, so he buy wan las' mont'.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I s'posa som' day eet be verra nice place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But shape dat he find eet een sure ees "deesgrace";<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eet's busta so bad he must feexin' eet all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' firs' theeng he starta for build ees da wall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mysal' I go outa for see heem wan day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' dere I am catcha heem sweatin' away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's liftin' beeg stones from all parts of hees land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' takin' dem up to da wall een hees hand!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I say to heem: "Tony, why don'ta you gat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Som' leetla wheel-barrow for halp you weeth dat?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O! com' an' I show you w'at's matter," he said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' so we go look at hees tools een da shed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dere's fina beeg wheel-barrow dere on da floor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But w'at do you s'pose? From een under da door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Som' mornin'-glor' vines have creep eento da shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' beautiful flower, all purpla an' red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smile out from da vina so pretty an' green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dat tweest round da wheel an' da sides da machine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I look at dees Tony an' say to heem: "Wal?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' Tony he look back at me an' say: "Hal!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I no can bust up soocha beautiful theeng;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I work weeth my han's eef eet tak' me teell spreeng!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Antonio Sarto ees buildin' a wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But maybe he nevva gon' feenish at all.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Eet sure wonta be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Teell flower an' tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' all kinda growin' theengs sleep een da Fall.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">T. A. Daly</span></div> + + +<h3>LARKSPUR</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Blue morning and the beloved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hill-garden and I ...<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Blue morning and the beloved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaning, laughing and plucking,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plucking wet roses ...<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i2">(She among the roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I among the larkspur,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bob-white, warbler, meadowlark, bobolink,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Song, sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And still morning air.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I snipped off a larkspur blossom of china-blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And held it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A blossom against the sky ...<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And heaven opened out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In one small flower-face ...<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And the beloved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plucking roses, plucking roses, old-fashioned roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifted her face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With eyes of china-blue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i2">(She among the roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I among the larkspur,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bee-hum, brown-mole, downy chick, humming-bird:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Light, dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And laughter of my love.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">James Oppenheim</span></div> + + +<h3>THE JULY GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It's July in my garden; and steel-blue are the globe thistles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And French grey the willows that bow to every breeze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And deep in every currant bush a robber blackbird whistles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"I'm picking, I'm picking, I'm picking these!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">So off I go to rout them, and find instead I'm gazing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At clusters of delphiniums—the seed was small and brown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But these are spurs that fell from heaven and caught the most amazing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Colours of the welkin's own as they came hustling down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And then some roses catch my eye, or may be some Sweet Williams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or pink and white and purple peals of Canterbury bells<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Or pencilled Violas that peep between the three-leaved trilliums<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or red-hot pokers all aglow or poppies that cast spells—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And while I stare at each in turn I quite forget or pardon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blackbirds—and the blackguards—that keep robbing me of pie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what do such things matter when I have so fair a garden<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And what is half so lovely as my garden in July?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Robert Ernest Vernède</span></div> + + +<h3>"MID-SUMMER BLOOMS WITHIN OUR QUIET +GARDEN-WAYS"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Mid-summer blooms within our quiet garden-ways;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A golden peacock down the dusky alley strays;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gay flower petals strew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">—Pearl, emerald and blue—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The curving slopes of fragrant summer grass;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pools are clear as glass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the white cups of the lily-flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The currants are like jewelled fairy-bowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dazzling insect worries the heart of a rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where a delicate fern a filmy shadow throws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And airy as bubbles the thousands of bees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the young grape-clusters swarm as they please.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The air is pearly, iridescent, pure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These profound and radiant noons mature,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Unfolding even as odorous roses of clear light;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Familiar roads to distances invite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like slow and graceful gestures, one by one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound for the pearly-hued horizon and the sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Surely the summer clothes, with all her arts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No other garden with such grace and power;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And 'tis the poignant joy close-folded in our hearts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That cries its life aloud from every flaming flower.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Emile Verhaeren</span></div> + + +<h3>POPPIES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">O perfect flowers of sweet midsummer days,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The season's emblems ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As nodding lazily<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye kiss to sleep each breeze that near you strays,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And soothe the tired gazer's sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With lulling surges of your softest somnolence.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Like fairy lamps ye light the garden bed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With tender ruby glow.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not any flowers that blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can match the glory of your gleaming red;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such sunny-warm and dreamy hue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before ye lit your fires no garden ever knew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Bright are the blossoms of the scarlet sage,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bright the velvet vest<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +<span class="i2">On the nasturtium's breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright are the tulips when they reddest rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bright the coreopsis' eye;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But none of all can with your brilliant beauty vie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">O soft and slumberous flowers, we love you well;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your glorious crimson tide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mossy walk beside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Holds all the garden in its drowsy spell;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And walking there we gladly bless<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your queenly grace and all your languorous loveliness.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">John Russell Hayes</span></div> + + +<h3>THE GARDEN IN AUGUST</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">From corn-crib by the level pasture-lands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To knoll where spruce and boulders hide the road<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know it like a book, and when my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is waste and dry and hard and choked with weeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I come here till it gently blooms again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For gardens yield rich fruits that will outlast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The autumn and the winter of the soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Richest to him who toils with loving hands.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis delving thus we learn life's secrets told<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to those favored few who dig for them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Garden is an intimate and keeps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In touch with us, yet hath its own high moods,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And doth impose them on the mind of man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shame his pettiness. So do I love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its shimmering August mood keyed to the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A harlequin of color, birds and bloom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nasturtiums, zinnias, balsams, salvias blaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By vivid dahlias; tiger-lilies burn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In scarlet shadow of Jerusalem-cross;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the queen-hydrangeas splendid rule<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Barbaric marigolds; chrysanthemums<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outshine gladioli, and sunflowers flaunt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their crests of gold beneath the giant gourds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the arbor, script forgot, I muse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While gorgeous hollyhocks sway to and fro<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mark the silences, and butterflies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flit in and out like some bright memory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blinding poppies kindle slow watch-fires<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the golden altar of the sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A spell lies on the Garden. Summer sits<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With finger on her lips as if she heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The steps of Autumn echo on the hill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hush lies on the Garden. Summer dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of timid crocus thrust through drifted snow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Gertrude Huntington McGiffert</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>SUN, CARDINAL, AND CORN FLOWERS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Whence gets Earth her gold for thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Sunflower?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her woven, yellow locks so fine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must go to make that gold of thine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And whence thy red beside the stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Cardinal-flower?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She pricks some vein lies near her heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thy rich, ruddy hue may start.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And whence thy blue amid the corn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Corn-flower?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her deep-blue eyes gleam out in glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glories of her work to see.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Hannah Parker Kimball</span></div> + + +<h3>SUNFLOWERS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">My tall sunflowers love the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love the burning August noons<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the locust tunes its viol,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the cricket croons.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">When the purple night draws on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With its planets hung on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the attared winds of slumber<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wander down the sky,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Still my sunflowers love the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Keep their ward and watch and wait<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the rosy key of morning<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Opes the eastern gate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Then, when they have deeply quaffed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the brimming cups of dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You can hear their golden laughter<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All the garden through.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Clinton Scollard</span></div> + + +<h3>THE END OF SUMMER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">When poppies in the garden bleed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And coreopsis goes to seed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pansies, blossoming past their prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grow small and smaller all the time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When on the mown field, shrunk and dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brown dock and purple thistle lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smoke from forest fires at noon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can make the sun appear the moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When apple seeds, all white before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Begin to darken in the core,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know that summer, scarcely here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is gone until another year.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Edna St. Vincent Millay</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>A LATE WALK</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">When I go up through the mowing field,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The headless aftermath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Half closes the garden path.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And when I come to the garden ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The whir of sober birds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up from the tangle of the withered weeds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is sadder than any words.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A tree beside the wall stands bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But a leaf that lingered brown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Comes softly rustling down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I end not far from my going forth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By picking the faded blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the last remaining aster flower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To carry again to you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Robert Frost</span></div> + + +<h3>COLOR NOTES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The brown of fallen leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The duller brown<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of withered moss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stubble and bared sheaves,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And pale light filtering down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fields across.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The gray of slender trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The softer gray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of melting skies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What sobering ecstasies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One drinks on such a day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With chastened eyes!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Charles Wharton Stork</span></div> + + +<h3>THE GOLDEN BOWL</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I stand upon the broad and rounded summit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a high hill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the full golden flood of an October day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nearing to twilight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Below lie bouquets of woods, flat fields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White strings of roads winding like fairy tales into the distance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All steeped in sapphire mist like the blue bloom of grapes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nearby a scarlet creeper trails a fence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nearer a hawthorn tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drops its wee crimson apples into the lush green grass.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stand with head thrown back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeing and breathing deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My arms stretched out, in my two hands<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I hold a golden bowl.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Luscious fruits fulfil the yellow lustre of its hollow sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fruits like great gems,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pear of russet topaz, a ruby peach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cluster of grapes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amethysts from the dewy cave of night—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sapphire plum, a garnet apple, emerald nectarine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on them lies a rose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Oh, empty golden bowl I call my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Filled now with the precious fruits of life and time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Topped with the rosy spray of grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though dropped to me from the sky above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A crowning thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lift and hold you out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An offering,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And close my eyes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Mary McMillan</span></div> + + +<h3>THE AUTUMN ROSE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A Ghostly visitant, pale Autumn Rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haunting my garden that you once loved well:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, how you queened it ere the sweet June's close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blushed anew to hear the zephyrs tell<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Your loveliness was fairer than a dream!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now your pride of beauty is all gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like some poor sad penitent you seem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose drooping head but hides a visage wan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wasted by the coldness of the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon your faint sweet breath is borne a sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within your petals lies a tear impearled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear you to my garden say good-bye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A sudden wind—the pale rose-petals blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hither and yon—or are they flakes of snow?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Antoinette De Coursey Patterson</span></div> + + +<h3>INDIAN SUMMER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ceaseless, insistent.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The grasshopper's horn, and far off, high in the maples<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the moon waning and worn and broken,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tired with summer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Let me remember you, voices of little insects,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me remember you, soon will the winter be on us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Snow-hushed and heartless.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Over my soul murmur your mute benediction,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I gaze, oh fields that rest after harvest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As those who part look long in the eyes they lean to,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lest they forget them.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Sara Teasdale</span></div> + + +<h3>"FROST TO-NIGHT"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Apple-green west and an orange bar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the crystal eye of a lone, one star ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, "Child, take the shears and cut what you will.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frost to-night—so clear and dead-still."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Then, I sally forth, half sad, half proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I come to the velvet, imperial crowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wine-red, the gold, the crimson, the pied,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dahlias that reign by the garden-side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The dahlias I might not touch till to-night!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A gleam of the shears in the fading light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I gathered them all,—the splendid throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in one great sheaf I bore them along.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">In my garden of Life with its all-late flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heed a Voice in the shrinking hours:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Frost to-night—so clear and dead-still ..."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Half sad, half proud, my arms I fill.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Edith M. Thomas</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>NOVEMBER NIGHT</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Listen ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With faint dry sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like steps of passing ghosts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fall.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Adelaide Crapsey</span></div> + + +<h3>THE SNOW-GARDENS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Like an empty stage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gardens are empty and cold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The marble terraces rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like vases that hold no flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lake is frozen, the fountain still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The marble walls and the seats<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are useless and beautiful.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the wind and the dusk and the snow are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All is silent and white and sad!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why do I think of you?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why does your name remorselessly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strike through my heart?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why does my soul awaken and shudder?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why do I seem to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cries as lovely as music?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Surely you never came<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into these pale snow-gardens;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surely you never stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here in the twilight with me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet here I have lingered and dreamed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a face as subtle as music,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of golden hair, and of eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a child's ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have felt on my brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your finger-tips, plaintive as music ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Wonder of all wonders, O Love—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrought of sweet sounds and of dreaming!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why do you not emerge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the lilac pale petals of dusk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And come to me here in the gardens<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the wind and the snow are?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Beauty and Peace are here—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And unceasing music—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a loneliness chill and wistful,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the feeling of death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Like a crystal lily a star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leans from its leaves of silver<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gleams in the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And golden and faint in the shadows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You wait indistinctly,—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Like a phantom lamp that appears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the mirror of distance that hovers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the window at twilight—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You have come—and we stand together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With questioning eyes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreaming and cold and ghostly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In an empty garden that seems<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like an empty stage.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Zoë Akins</span></div> + + +<h3>A SONG FOR WINTER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Speak not of snow and cold and rime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now they prevail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would you have joy in winter-time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Think of the pale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New green that comes, of blossoming lilacs think,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Larkspur, and borders of the fringèd pink.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sing, if winter grants you heart to sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of summer and of spring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Would you secure some happiness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In frosty hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trust to the eye external less<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than to the powers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of inward sight that even now may show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Opaline seas, blue hilltops, and the glow<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of daybreak on the glades where thrushes sing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In summer and in spring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Gaze not on fettered lake and brook<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sullen skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in your happy memory look<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where beauty lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As once it was, as it shall be again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When sunshine floods the fields of blowing grain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sing, as must who would in winter sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of summer and of spring.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Mrs. Schuyler Van Rensselaer</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> +<h2>WINGS AND SONG</h2> + +<h3>"I MEANT TO DO MY WORK TO-DAY"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>I meant to do my work to-day—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>But a brown bird sang in the apple-tree</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And a butterfly flitted across the field,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>And all the leaves were calling me.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>And the wind went sighing over the land,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Tossing the grasses to and fro,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And a rainbow held out its shining hand—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>So what could I do but laugh and go?</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Richard Le Gallienne</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE HUMMINGBIRD</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Through tree-top and clover a-whirr and away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hi! little rover, stop and stay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Merry, absurd, excited wag—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lilliput-bird in Brobdingnag!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Wild and free as the wild thrush, and warier—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was ever a bee merrier, airier?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Wings folded so, a second or two—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was ever a crow more solemn than you?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A-whirr again over the garden, away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who calls, little rover, Bird or fay?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Agleam and aglow, incarnate bliss!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What do you know that we humans miss?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">In the lily's chalice, what rune, what spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the rose's palace, what do they tell<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">(When the door you bob in, airily)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That they hush from the robin, hide from the bee?—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Fearing the crew of chatter and song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tell to you of the chantless tongue?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Chantless! Ah, yes. Is that the sting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Masked in gay dress and whirring wing?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Faith! But a wing of such airy stuff!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What need to sing? Here's music enough.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A-whirr, and over tree-top, and through!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hi! little rover, fair travel to you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweet, absurd, excited wag—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lilliput-bird in Brobdingnag!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Hermann Hagedorn</span></div> + + +<h3>SPRING SONG</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Softly at dawn a whisper stole<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down from the Green House on the Hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enchanting many a ghostly bole<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wood song with the ancient thrill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Gossiping on the countryside,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spring and the wandering breezes say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God has thrown heaven open wide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And let the thrushes out to-day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">William Griffith</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>NIGHTINGALES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">At sunset my brown nightingales<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hidden and hushed all day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ring vespers, while the color pales<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fades to twilight gray:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little mellow bells they ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little flutes they play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are soft as though for practising<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The things they want to say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's when the dark has floated down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hide and guard and fold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know their throats that look so brown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are really made of gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No music I have ever heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can call as sweet as they!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wonder if it <i>is</i> a bird<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sings within the hidden tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or some shy angel calling me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To follow far away?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Grace Hazard Conkling</span></div> + + +<h3>THE GOLDFINCH</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Down from the sky on a sudden he drops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the mullein and juniper tops,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flushed from his bath in the midsummer shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flooding the meadowland, drunk with the wine<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Spilled from the urns of the blue, like a bold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sky-buccaneer in his sable and gold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Lightly he sways on the pendulous stem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vividly restless, a fluttering gem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then with a flash of bewildering wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dazzles away up and down, and he sings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clear as a bell at each dip as he flies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bounding along on the wave of the skies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Sunlight and laughter, a wingèd desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Motion and melody married to fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lighter than thistle-tuft borne on the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frailer than violets, how shall we find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Words that will match him, discover a name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meet for this marvel, this lyrical flame?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">How shall we fashion a rhythm to wing with him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Find us a wonderful music to sing with him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fine as his rapture is, free as the rollicking<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Song that the harlequin drops in his frolicking<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dance through the summer sky, singing so merrily<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High in the burning blue, winging so airily?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Odell Shepard</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>KINFOLK</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">O, we are Kinfolk, she and I,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The little mother-bird all brown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who broods above her nest on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And with her soft, bright eyes looks down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To read the secret of my heart,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We two from all the world apart!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">She dreams there in her swaying nest;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I dream here 'neath my sheltering vine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The same love stirs her feathered breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That makes my heart-throb seem divine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We both dream 'neath the same kind sky,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The small brown mother-bird, and I.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Kate Whiting Patch</span></div> + + +<h3>A MOCKING-BIRD</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">An arrow, feathery, alive,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He darts and sings,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then with a sudden skimming dive<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of striped wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He finds a pine and, debonair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Makes with his mate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All birds that ever rested there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Articulate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The whisper of a multitude<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of happy wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is round him, a returning brood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each time he sings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though heaven be not for them or him<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet he is wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And daily tiptoes on the rim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of paradise.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Witter Bynner</span></div> + + +<h3>THE CARDINAL-BIRD</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Where snow-drifts are deepest he frolics along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flicker of crimson, a chirrup of song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My Cardinal-Bird of the frost-powdered wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Composing new lyrics to whistle in Spring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A plump little prelate, the park is his church;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pulpit he loves is a cliff-sheltered birch;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there, in his rubicund livery dressed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arranging his feathers and ruffling his crest,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">He preaches, with most unconventional glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sermon addressed to the squirrels and me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Commending the wisdom of those that display<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brightest of colors when heavens are gray.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Arthur Guiterman</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>YELLOW WARBLERS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The first faint dawn was flushing up the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, dreamland still bewildering mine eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I looked out to the oak that, winter-long,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A winter wild with war and woe and wrong,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond my casement had been void of song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And lo! with golden buds the twigs were set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Live buds that warbled like a rivulet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath a veil of willows. Then I knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those tiny voices, clear as drops of dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those flying daffodils that fleck the blue,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Those sparkling visitants from myrtle isles—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wee pilgrims of the sun, that measured miles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Innumerable over land and sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wings of shining inches. Flakes of glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They filled that dark old oak with jubilee,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Foretelling in delicious roundelays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their dainty courtships on the dipping sprays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How they should fashion nests, mate helping mate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of milkweed flax and fern-down delicate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keep sky-tinted eggs inviolate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Listening to those blithe notes, I slipped once more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From lyric dawn through dreamland's open door,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And there was God, Eternal Life that sings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternal joy, brooding all mortal things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A nest of stars, beneath untroubled wings.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Katharine Lee Bates</span></div> + + +<h3>WITCHERY</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Out of the purple drifts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the shadow sea of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On tides of musk a moth uplifts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its weary wings of white.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Is it a dream or ghost<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a dream that comes to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here in the twilight on the coast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blue cinctured by the sea?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Fashioned of foam and froth—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the dream is ended soon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, lo, whence came the moon-white moth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Comes now the moth-white moon!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Frank Dempster Sherman</span></div> + + +<h3>THE SPRING BEAUTIES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The Puritan Spring Beauties stood freshly clad for church;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Thrush, white-breasted, o'er them sat singing on his perch.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Happy be! for fair are ye!" the gentle singer told them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But presently a buff-coat Bee came booming up to scold them.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +<span class="i2">"Vanity, oh, vanity!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Young maids, beware of vanity!"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grumbled out the buff-coat Bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Half parson-like, half soldierly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The sweet-faced maidens trembled, with pretty, pinky blushes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Convinced that it was wicked to listen to the Thrushes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when, that shady afternoon, I chanced that way to pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They hung their little bonnets down and looked into the grass.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All because the buff-coat Bee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lectured them so solemnly:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Vanity, oh, vanity!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Young maids, beware of vanity!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Helen Gray Cone</span></div> + + +<h3>THE MOCKING-BIRD</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">He didn't know much music<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When first he come along;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' all the birds went wonderin'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why he didn't sing a song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">They primped their feathers in the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' sung their sweetest notes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' music jest come on the run<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From all their purty throats!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But still that bird was silent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In summer time an' fall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He jest set still and listened,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' he wouldn't sing at all!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But one night when them songsters<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was tired out an' still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the wind sighed down the valley<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' went creepin' up the hill;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">When the stars was all a-tremble<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the dreamin' fields o' blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' the daisy in the darkness—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Felt the fallin' o' the dew,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There come a sound o' melody<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No mortal ever heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' all the birds seemed singin'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the throat o' one sweet bird!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Then the other birds went Mayin'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a land too fur to call;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there warn't no use in stayin'<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When one bird could sing for all!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Frank L. Stanton</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE MESSENGER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Bee! tell me whence do you come?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ten fields away, twenty perhaps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have heard your hum.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">If you are from the north, you may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have passed my mother's roof of straw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon your way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">If you came from the south you should<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have seen another cottage just<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inside the wood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And should you go back that way, please<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carry a message to the house<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the trees.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Say—I will wait her at the rock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside the stream, this very night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At eight o'clock.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And ask your queen when you get home<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To send my queen the present of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A honey-comb.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">James Stephens</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>FIREFLIES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Fireflies, Fireflies, little glinting creatures,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Making night lovely with a rain of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Born of the moonbeams, children all unearthly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah how you vanish from a look too bold!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Fireflies, Fireflies, lovely as our dreams are,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sewn with such fancies from the years gone by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wayward, elusive, as the playful zephyrs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hiding mid grasses, gleaming in the sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Fireflies, Fireflies, like unto the silent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brown nuns who gather for the dead to pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As theirs your mission; holy, too, your tapers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Souls of dead flowers lighting on their way.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Antoinette De Coursey Patterson</span></div> + + +<h3>JULY MIDNIGHT</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Fireflies flicker in the tops of trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flicker in the lower branches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Skim along the ground.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the moon-white lilies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is a flashing and ceasing of small, lemon-green stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As you lean against me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moon-white,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The air all about you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is slit, and pricked, and pointed with sparkles of lemon-green flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Starting out of a background of great vague trees.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Amy Lowell</span></div> + + +<h3>THE CRICKET IN THE PATH</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">She passed through the shadowy garden, so tall and so white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eyes on the stars and her face like an angel's upturned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it seemed to my thought that the dusk round her head with the light<br /></span> +<span class="i14">Of an aureole burned.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But where she had trodden unseeing, I found on the path<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cricket, so frail that her light foot had maimed it, yet strong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To valiantly pipe, tiny hero, a faint aftermath<br /></span> +<span class="i14">Of its yesterday song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And I whispered, "Alas, Little Brother, why must it befall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the passing of angels but cripples and leaves us to die?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor imp of the greensward, God trumpets me clear in thy call;<br /></span> +<span class="i14">Thou art braver than I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">"The Bright Ones of Heaven have trodden me down as they passed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I crawl in their footsteps a trampled and impotent thing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not the reason, nor question henceforth. To the last,<br /></span> +<span class="i14">While I live, I will sing."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Amelia Josephine Burr</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>REST AT NOON</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Now with a re-created mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back to the world my way I find;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Fed by the hills one little hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By meadow-slope and beechen-bower,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Cedar serene, benignant larch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hoar mountains and the azure arch<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Where dazzling vapors make vast sport<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In God's profound and spacious court.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The universe played with me. Earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harped to high heaven her sweetest mirth;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The clouds built castles for my pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And airy legions without measure<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Flung, spindrift-wise, across the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thrill my heart once and to die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I have held converse with large things;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For cherubim with cooling wings<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Brushed me, and gay stars, hid from view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Called through the arras of the blue<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And clapped their hands: "These veils uproll!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see the comrades of your soul!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The very flowers that ringed my bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their little "God-be-with-you" said,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And every insect, bird and bee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought cool cups from eternity.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Hermann Hagedorn</span></div> + + +<h3>ORDER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It is half-past eight on the blossomy bush:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The petals are spread for a sunning;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little gold fly is scrubbing his face;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The spider is nervously running<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fasten a thread; the night-going moth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is folding his velvet perfection;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And presently over the clover will come<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bee on a tour of inspection.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Paul Scott Mowrer</span></div> + + +<h3>THE NIGHT-MOTH</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">My night-moth, my white moth, out of the fragrant dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blowing in and growing like a dim star-spark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So swift in the shifting of your elfin wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So slight in your lighting, as a flower that clings,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +<span class="i0">As a boat to ride the dew, with sheer up-bearing sails,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pulsing and breathing, rocked with delicate gales,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You gleam as a dream, by my window's light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My white moth, my bright moth, my wandering wraith of night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">From the velvet screening of a great gray cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon floats swiftly, white and open-browed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flooding cloud and water with her shining trail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the night shrinks, sighing, behind the radiant veil;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night, with her shy soul, to the deep wood slips—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her shy soul, her high soul, shrine of all the stars;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you fly, like the sigh from her tender lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Athwart the wavering shadows, beating the silver bars;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You fleet in the meeting of the dark and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My light moth, my white moth, spark from the soul of night.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Marion Couthouy Smith</span></div> + + +<h3>THE BUTTERFLY</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">O winged brother on the harebell, stay—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was God's hand very pitiful, the hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wrought thy beauty at a dream's demand?<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Yes, knowing I love so well the flowery way,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>He did not fling me to the world astray—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>He did not drop me to the weary sand,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>But bore me gently to a leafy land:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Tinting my wings, He gave me to the day.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, chide no more my doubting, my despair!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I will go back now to the world of men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell, I leave thee to the world of air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet thou hast girded up my heart again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For He that framed the impenetrable plan,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And keeps His word with thee, will keep with man.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Edwin Markham</span></div> + + +<h3>THE SECRET</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">O, little bird, you sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if all months were June;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray tell me ere you go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The secret of your tune?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">"I have no hidden word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tell, nor mystic art;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I only know I sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The song within my heart!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Arthur Wallace Peach</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span><br /></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE GARDENS OF YESTERDAY</h2> + +<h3>THE GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Old gardens have a language of their own,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And mine sweet speech to linger in the heart.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>A goodly place it is and primly spaced,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>With straight box-bordered paths and squares of bloom.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Bay-trees by rows of antique urns tell tales</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Of one who loved the gardens Dante loved.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Magnolias edge the placid lily-pool</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And flank the sagging seat, whence vista leads</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To blaze of rhododendrons banked in green.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Azaleas by the scarlet quince flame up</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Against the lustrous grape-vines trellised high</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To pigeon-cote and old brick wall where hide</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>First snowdrops and the bravest violets.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>A place of solitudes whose silences</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Enfold the heart as an unquiet bird.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Gertrude Huntington McGiffert</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>OLD HOMES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Old homes among the hills! I love their gardens;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their old rock fences, that our day inherits;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their doors, round which the great trees stand like wardens;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their paths, down which the shadows march like spirits;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broad doors and paths that reach bird-haunted gardens.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I see them gray among their ancient acres,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Severe of front, their gables lichen-sprinkled,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like gentle-hearted, solitary Quakers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grave and religious, with kind faces wrinkled,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Serene among their memory-hallowed acres.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Their gardens, banked with roses and with lilies—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those sweet aristocrats of all the flowers—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Springtime mints her gold in daffodillies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Autumn coins her marigolds in showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the hours are toilless as the lilies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I love their orchards where the gay woodpecker<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flits, flashing o'er you, like a wingèd jewel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their woods, whose floors of moss the squirrels checker<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With half-hulled nuts; and where, in cool renewal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild brooks laugh, and raps the red woodpecker.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Old homes! Old hearts! Upon my soul forever<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their peace and gladness lie like tears and laughter;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Like love they touch me, through the years that sever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With simple faith; like friendship, draw me after<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreamy patience that is theirs forever.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Madison Cawein</span></div> + + +<h3>A PURITAN LADY'S GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i2">This fairy pleasance in the brake—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">This maze run wild of flower and vine—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our fathers planted for the sake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of eyes that longed for English gardens<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Amid the virgin wastes of pine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i2">Here, by the broken, moldering wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where still the tiger-lilies ride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Once grew the crown imperial,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tall blue larkspur, white Queen Margaret,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Prince's-feather, and mourning bride.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i2">Beyond their pale, a humbler throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Grew Bouncing Bet and columbine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mountain fringe ran all along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thick-set hedge of cinnamon roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And overhung the eglantine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i2">And Sunday flowers were here as well—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Adam-and-Eve within their hood,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The stately Canterbury bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, oft in churches breathing fragrance,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The sweet and pungent southernwood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i2">When ships for England cleared the bay,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">If long beside these reefs of foam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She stood, and watched them sail away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was her garden first enticed her<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To turn, and call this country "home."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Sarah N. Cleghorn</span></div> + + +<h3>THE OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Among the meadows of the countryside,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From city noise and tumult far away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where clover-blossoms spread their fragrance wide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And birds are warbling all the sunny day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a spot which lovingly I prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there a fair and sweet old-fashioned country garden lies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The gray old mansion down beside the lane<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stands knee-deep in the fields that lie around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scent the air with hay and ripening grain.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Behind the manse box-hedges mark the bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And close the garden in, or nearly close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For on beyond the hollyhocks an olden orchard grows.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +<span class="i0">So bright and lovely is the dear old place,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It seems as though the country's very heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were centered here, and that its antique grace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must ever hold it from the world apart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Immured it lies among the meadows deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its flowery stillness beautiful and calm as softest sleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The morning-glories ripple o'er the hedge<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fleck its greenness with their tinted foam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet wilding things, up to the garden's edge<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They love to wander from their meadow home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To take what little pleasure here they may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere all their silken trumpets close before the warm midday.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The larkspur lifts on high its azure spires,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And up the arbor's lattices are rolled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The quaint nasturtium's many-colored fires;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tall carnation's breast of faded gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is striped with many a faintly-flushing streak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale as the tender tints that blush upon a baby's cheek.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The old sweet-rocket sheds its fine perfumes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With golden stars the coreopsis flames,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here are scores of sweet old-fashioned blooms,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear for the very fragrance of their names,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poppies and gilly flowers and four-o'clocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cowslips and candytuft and heliotrope and hollyhocks,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Harebells and peonies and dragon-head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Petunias, scarlet sage and bergamot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Verbenas, ragged-robins, soft gold-thread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bright primrose and pale forget-me-not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wall-flowers and crocuses and columbines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Narcissus, asters, hyacinths, and honeysuckle vines.<br /></span> +</div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A sweet seclusion this of sun and shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A calm asylum from the busy world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where greed and restless care do ne'er invade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor news of 'change and mart each morning hurled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round half the globe; no noise of party feud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disturbs this peaceful spot nor mars its perfect quietude.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But summer after summer comes and goes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And leaves the garden ever fresh and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May brings the tulip, golden June the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And August winds shake down the mellow pear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man blooms and blossoms, fades and disappears,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But scarce a tribute pays the garden to the passing years.<br /></span> +</div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweet is the odor of the warm, soft rain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In violet-days when spring opes her green heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweet the apple trees along the lane<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose lovely blossoms all too soon depart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweet the brimming dew that overfills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden chalices of all the trembling daffodils.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But sweeter far, in this old garden-close<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To loiter 'mid the lovely old-time flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To breathe the scent of lavender and rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And with old poets pass the peaceful hours.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old gardens and old poets,—happy he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose quiet summer days are spent in such sweet company!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">John Russell Hayes</span></div> + + +<h3>A COLONIAL GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Down this pathway, through the shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lightly tripped the dainty maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her eyes the smile of June,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On her lips some old sweet tune.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through yon ragged rows of box,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By that awkward clump of phlox,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her favorite pansy bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a ray of light, she sped.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Satin slippers trim and neat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gleamed upon her slender feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round her ankles, deftly tied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ribbons crossed from side to side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here her pinks, old fashioned, fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathed their fragrance on the air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There her fluttering azure gown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shook the poppy's petals down.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Here a rose, with fond caress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stooped to touch a truant tress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her fillet struggling free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scorning its captivity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There a bed of rue was set<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With an edge of mignonette,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the spicy bergamot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meshed the frail forget-me-not.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honeysuckles, hollyhocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bachelor's buttons, four-o'clocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Marigolds and blue-eyed grass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Curtsied when the maid did pass.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now the braggart weeds have spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the paths she loved to tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the creeping moss has grown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er yon shattered dial-stone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still beside the ruined walks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some old flowers, on sturdy stalks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dream of her whose happy eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roam the fields of paradise.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">James B. Kenyon</span></div> + + +<h3>IN MY MOTHER'S GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There were many flowers in my mother's garden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sword-leaved gladiolas, taller far than I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sticky-leaved petunias, pink and purple flaring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Velvet-painted pansies smiling at the sky;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Scentless portulacas crowded down the borders,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White and scarlet-petalled, rose and satin-gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clustered sweet alyssum, lacy-white and scented,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sprays of gray-green lavender to keep 'til you were old.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">In my mother's garden were green-leaved hiding-places,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nooks between the lilacs—oh, a pleasant place to play!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still my heart can hide there, still my eyes can dream it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the long years lie between and I am far away;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">When the world is hard now, when the city's clanging<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tires my eyes and tires my heart and dust lies everywhere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can dream the peace still of the soft wind's blowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can be a child still and hide my heart from care.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Lord, if still that garden blossoms in the sunlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grant that children laugh there now among its green and gold—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grant that little hearts still hide its memoried sweetness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Locking one bright dream away for light when they are old!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Margaret Widdemer</span></div> + + +<h3>TO THE SWEETWILLIAM</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I search the poet's honied lines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not in vain, for columbines;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not in vain for other flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sanctify the many bowers<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Unsanctified by human souls.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See where the larkspur lifts among<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thousand blossoms finely sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still blossoming in the fragrant scrolls!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Charity, eglantine, and rue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And love-in-a-mist are all in view,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With coloured cousins; but where are you,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sweetwilliam?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The lily and the rose have books<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Devoted to their lovely looks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wit has fallen in vital showers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through England's most miraculous hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keep them fresh a thousand years.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The immortal library can show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The violet's well-thumbed folio<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stained tenderly by girls in tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shelf where Genius stands in view<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has brier and daffodil and rue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And love-lies-bleeding; but not you,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sweetwilliam.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Thus, if I seek the classic line<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For marybuds, 'tis, Shakespeare, thine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ever is the primrose born<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath Goldsmith's overhanging thorn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Herrick's breastknot I can see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The apple-blossom, fresh and fair<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +<span class="i0">As when he plucked and put it there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heedless of Time's anthology.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So flower by flower comes into view<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kept fadeless by the Olympian dew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For startled eyes; and yet not you,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sweetwilliam.<br /></span> +</div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Though gods of song have let you be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bloom in my little book for me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unwont to stoop or lean, you show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An undefeated heart, and grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As pluckily as cedars. Heat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cold, and winds that make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tumbledown sallies, cannot shake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your resolution to be sweet.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then take this song, be it born to die<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere yet the unwedded butterfly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has glimpsed a darling in the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sweetwilliam!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Norman Gale</span></div> + + +<h3>ROSE-GERANIUM</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A pungent spray of rose-geranium—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A breath of the old life.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It brings up the little five-room cottage where I was born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where I grew through a smiling childhood.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The white-bearded grandfather sits in his mended rocking-chair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His eyes far off, crooning "The Sweet By and By,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Marked with the tapping of his toe upon the weathered porch-floor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the sunshine drizzles through the great oaks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And there is my grandmother's kneeling figure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turning over the rich black earth with her trowel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the kind wrinkles on her face, as she says:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Didn't the pansies do finely this year, Clem?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the scarlet verbenas, and the larkspurs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the row of flaming salvia....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those roses ... they're Maréchal Niels ... my favorites.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And little grandson, smell this spray of rose-geranium—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just think, when grandmother was a little tiny girl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her grandmother grew them in her yard!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Clement Wood</span></div> + + +<h3>FOUR O'CLOCKS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It is mid-afternoon. Long, long ago<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each morning-glory sheathed the slender horn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It blew so gayly on the hills of morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fainted in the noontide's fervid glow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Gone are the dew-drops from the rose's heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gone with the freshness of the early hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The songs that filled the air with silver showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lovely dreams that were of morn a part.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Yet still in tender light the garden lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The warm, sweet winds are whispering soft and low;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brown bees and butterflies flit to and fro;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The peace of heaven is in the o'erarching skies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And here be four-o'clocks, just opening wide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their many colored petals to the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As glad to live as if the evening dun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were far away, and morning had not died!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Julia C. R. Dorr</span></div> + + +<h3>ASKING FOR ROSES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A house that lacks, seemingly, mistress and master,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With doors that none but the wind ever closes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its floor all littered with glass and with plaster;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It stands in a garden of old-fashioned roses.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I pass by that way in the gloaming with Mary;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"I wonder," I say, "who the owner of those is."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, no one you know," she answers me airy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"But one we must ask if we want any roses."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">So we must join hands in the dew coming coldly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There in the hush of the wood that reposes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And turn and go up to the open door boldly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And knock to the echoes as beggars for roses.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"Pray, are you within there, Mistress Who-were-you?"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis Mary that speaks and our errand discloses.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Pray are you within there? Bestir you, bestir you!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis summer again; there's two come for roses.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">"A word with you, that of the singer recalling—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Old Herrick: a saying that every man knows is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flower unplucked is but left to the falling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And nothing is gained by not gathering roses."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">We do not loosen our hands' intertwining<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Not caring so very much what she supposes),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There when she comes on us mistily shining<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And grants us by silence the boon of her roses.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Robert Frost</span></div> + + +<h3>THE OLD BROCADE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">In a black oak chest all carven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We found it laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still faintly sweet of Lavender,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An old brocade.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With that perfume came a vision,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A garden fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enclosed by great yew hedges;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A Lady there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is culling fresh blown lavender,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And singing goes<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Up and down the alleys green—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A human rose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun glints on her auburn hair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And brightens, too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silver buckles that adorn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each little shoe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her 'kerchief and her elbow sleeves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are cobweb lace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her gown, it is our old brocade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Worn with a grace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks I hear its soft frou-frou,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And see the sheen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of its dainty pink moss-rose buds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their leaves soft green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On a ground of palest shell pink,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In garlands laid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But long dead the Rose who wore it—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The old brocade.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">M. G. Brereton</span></div> + + +<h3>STAIRWAYS AND GARDENS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Gardens and Stairways; those are words that thrill me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Always with vague suggestions of delight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stairways and Gardens. Mystery and grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem part of their environment; they fill all space<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With memories of things veiled from my sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In some far place.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Gardens. The word is overcharged with meaning;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It speaks of moonlight, and a closing door;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of birds at dawn—of sultry afternoons.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gardens. I seem to see low branches screening<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A vine-roofed arbor with a leaf-tiled floor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sunlight swoons.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Stairways. The word winds upward to a landing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then curves and vanishes in space above.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lights fall, lights rise; soft lights that meet and blend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stairways; and some one at the bottom standing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Expectantly with lifted looks of love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then steps descend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Gardens and Stairways. They belong with song—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With subtle scents of perfume, myrrh and musk—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With dawn and dusk—with youth, romance, and mystery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And times that were and times that are to be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stairways and Gardens.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Ella Wheeler Wilcox</span></div> + + +<h3>OLD MOTHERS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I love old mothers—mothers with white hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kindly eyes, and lips grown softly sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With murmured blessings over sleeping babes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a something in their quiet grace<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +<span class="i0">That speaks the calm of Sabbath afternoons;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A knowledge in their deep, unfaltering eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That far outreaches all philosophy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time, with caressing touch, about them weaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silver-threaded fairy-shawl of age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While all the echoes of forgotten songs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem joined to lend a sweetness to their speech.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old mothers!—as they pace with slow-timed step,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their trembling hands cling gently to youth's strength;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet mothers!—as they pass, one sees again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old garden-walks, old roses, and old loves.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Charles Ross</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + +<h2>PASTURES AND HILLSIDES</h2> + + +<h3>SONG FROM "APRIL"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>I know</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Where the wind flowers blow!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I know,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>I have been</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Where the wild honey bees</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Gather honey for their queen!</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>I would be</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>A wild flower,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Blue sky over me,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>For an hour ... an hour!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>So the wild bees</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Should seek and discover me,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And kiss me ... kiss me ... kiss me!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Not one of the dusky dears should miss me!</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>I know</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Where the wind flowers blow!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I know,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>I have been</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Where the little rabbits run</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>In the warm, yellow sun!</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Oh, to be a wild flower</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>For an hour ... an hour ...</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>In the heather!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>A bright flower, a wild flower,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Blown by the weather!</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>I know,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>I have been</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Where the wild honey bees</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Gather Honey for their queen!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Irene Rutherford McLeod</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE ROAD TO THE POOL</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I know a road that leads from town,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pale road in a Watteau gown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wild-rose sprays, that runs away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All fragrant-sandaled, slim and gray.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It slips along the laurel grove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down the hill, intent to rove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And crooks an arm of shadow cool<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around a willow-silvered pool.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I never travel very far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the pool where willows are:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a shy and native grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hovers all about the place,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And resting there I hardly know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just where it was I meant to go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contented like the road that dozes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In panniered gown of briar roses.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Grace Hazard Conkling</span></div> + + +<h3>THE WILD ROSE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Summer has crossed the fields, and where she trod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Violets bloom; the dancing wind-flowers nod,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And daisies blossom all across the sod.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +<span class="i0">She passed the brook, and in their glad surprise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The first forget-me-nots smiled at the skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And caught the very color of her eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But, sleeping in the meadow-land, she pressed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dear wild rose so closely to her breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It stole her heart—and so she loves it best.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Charles Buxton Going</span></div> + + +<h3>UP A HILL AND A HILL</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Up a hill and a hill there's a sudden orchard-slope,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a little tawny field in the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's a gray wall that coils like a twist of frayed-out rope,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And grasses nodding news one to one.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Up a hill and a hill there's a windy place to stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And between the apple-boughs to find the blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the sleepy summer sea, past the cliffs of orange sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the white charmèd ships sliding through.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Up a hill and a hill there's a little house as gray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As a stone that the glaciers scored and stained;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a red rose by the door, and a tangled garden-way,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a face at the window, checker-paned.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I could climb, I could climb, till the shoes fell off my feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Just to find that tawny field above the sea!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up a hill and a hill,—oh, the honeysuckle's sweet!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the eyes at the window watch for me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Fannie Stearns Davis</span></div> + + +<h3>THE JOYS OF A SUMMER MORNING</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The smell of the morning that lurks in the hay,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The swish of the scythe<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the roundelay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the meadow-lark as he wings away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are the joys of a summer morning.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The daisy's bloom on the meadow's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The wandering bee<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And his ceaseless quest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the tempting sweets in the clover's crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are the joys of a summer morning.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The lowing kine on a distant hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The rollicking fall<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the near-by rill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lazy drone of the ancient mill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are the joys of a summer morning.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The feathery clouds in a faultless sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The new-risen sun<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With its kindly eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the woodland breezes floating by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are the joys of a summer morning.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Henry A. Wise Wood</span></div> + + +<h3>SOUTH WIND</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Where have you been, South Wind, this May-day morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With larks aloft, or skimming with the swallow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or with blackbirds in a green, sun-glinted thicket?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Oh, I heard you like a tyrant in the valley;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your ruffian hosts shook the young, blossoming orchards;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You clapped rude hands, hallooing round the chimney,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And white your pennons streamed along the river.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">You have robbed the bee, South Wind, in your adventure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blustering with gentle flowers; but I forgave you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When you stole to me shyly with scent of hawthorn.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Siegfried Sassoon</span></div> + + +<h3>TO A WEED</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">You bold thing! thrusting 'neath the very nose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her fastidious majesty, the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even in the best ordainèd garden bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unauthorized, your smiling little head!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The gardener, mind! will come in his big boots,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drag you up by your rebellious roots,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cast you forth to shrivel in the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your daring quelled, your little weed's life done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And when the noon cools, and the sun drops low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He'll come again with his big wheelbarrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trundle you—I don't know clearly where,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But off, outside the dew, the light, the air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Meantime—ah, yes! the air is very blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gold the light, and diamond the dew,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You laugh and courtesy in your worthless way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you are gay, ah, so exceeding gay!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">You argue in your manner of a weed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You did not make yourself grow from a seed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You fancy you've a claim to standing-room,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You dream yourself a right to breathe and bloom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The sun loves you, you think, just as the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He never scorned you for a weed,—he knows!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The green-gold flies rest on you and are glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's only cross old gardeners find you bad.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">You know, you weed, I quite agree with you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am a weed myself, and I laugh too,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both, just as long as we can shun his eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let's sniff at the old gardener trudging by!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Gertrude Hall</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE PASTURE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll only stop to rake the leaves away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I'm going out to fetch the little calf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's standing by the mother. It's so young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It totters when she licks it with her tongue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Robert Frost</span></div> + + +<h3>THE THISTLE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Ha, prickle-armèd knight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How oft the world hath cursed thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou pestilence of Earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The beldame who hath nursed thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Hath hellish Proserpine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her needs lent to arm thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mischief-loving gods,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pricked sorely, may not harm thee?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Or hath the mirthful Love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Presented thee his pinions<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dress thy tiny seeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The curse of man's dominions!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thou like a maiden art<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who best can find protection<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Employed at needlework<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From idleness' infection.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And like a prude thou art<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When he who loves embraces;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou dost repel with thorns<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she with sharper phrases.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And like the wraith thou art<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherewith my heart is haunted;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye both take most delight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where ye the least are wanted.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Miles M. Dawson</span></div> + + +<h3>CLOVER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Little masters, hat in hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me in your presence stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till your silence solve for me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This your threefold mystery.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Tell me—for I long to know—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How, in darkness there below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was your fairy fabric spun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spread and fashioned, three in one.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Did your gossips gold and blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sky and Sunshine, choose for you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere your triple forms were seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suited liveries of green?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Can ye—if ye dwelt indeed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Captives of a prison seed—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the Genie, once again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Get you back into the grain?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Little masters, may I stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In your presence, hat in hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waiting till you solve for me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This your threefold mystery?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">John B. Tabb</span></div> + + +<h3>WILD GARDENS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">On the ripened grass is a bloomy mist<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of silver and rose and amethyst<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the long June wave has run.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There are glints of copper and tarnished brass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hyacinthine flames that pass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the green fires of the sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">This web of a thousand gleams and glows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was woven silently out of the snows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the patient shine and rain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +<span class="i0">It was fashioned cunningly day by day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the silken spear to the pollened spray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With its folded sheaths of grain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Oh, garden of grasses deep and wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So dear to the vagrant and the child<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the singer of an hour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">To the wayworn soul you give your balm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your cup of peace, your stringèd psalm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your grace of bud and flower.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Ada Foster Murray</span></div> + + +<h3>THE DANDELION</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">O dandelion, rich and haughty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">King of village flowers!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each day is coronation time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You have no humble hours.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I like to see you bring a troop<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To beat the blue-grass spears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To scorn the lawn-mower that would be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like fate's triumphant shears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your yellow heads are cut away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seems your reign is o'er.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By noon you raise a sea of stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More golden than before.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Vachel Lindsay</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>JOE-PYEWEED</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And the name brings back those kindly hills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the drowsing life so new to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the welcome that those purple blossoms<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With their tiny trumpets blew to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Stout and tall, they raised their clustered heads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leaping, as a lusty fellow would,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the lowlands, down the twisting cow-paths;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Running past the green and yellow wood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">How they come again—those rambling roads;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the weeds' wild jewels glowing there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Richer than a Paradise of flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was that bit of pasture growing there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Weeds—the very names call up those faint<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Half-forgotten smells and cries again ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weeds—like some old charm, I say them over,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the rolling Berkshires rise again:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Basil, Boneset, Toadflax, Tansy,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Weeds of every form and fancy;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Milk-weed, Mullein, Loose-strife, Jewel-weed,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Mustard, Thimble-weed, Tear-thumb (a cruel weed).</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Clovers in all sorts—Nonesuch, Melilot;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Staring Buttercups, a bold and yellow lot.</i><br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Daisies rioting about the place</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>With Black-eyed Susan and Queen Anne's Lace....</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Names—they blossom into colored hills;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hills whose rousing beauty flows to me ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with all its soundless, purple trumpets,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lo, the Joe-Pyeweed still blows to me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Louis Untermeyer</span></div> + + +<h3>TO A DAISY</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Slight as thou art, thou art enough to hide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like all created things, secrets from me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And stand a barrier to eternity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, how can I praise thee well and wide<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">From where I dwell—upon the hither side?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou little veil for so great mystery,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When shall I penetrate all things and thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then look back? For this I must abide,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Till thou shalt grow and fold and be unfurled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Literally between me and the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then I shall drink from in beneath a spring,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And from a poet's side shall read his book.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O daisy mine, what will it be to look<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From God's side even of such a simple thing?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Alice Meynell</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>A SOFT DAY</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i4">A soft day, thank God!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A wind from the south<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With a honeyed mouth;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A scent of drenching leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Briar and beech and lime,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">White elder-flower and thyme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the soaking grass smells sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crushed by my two bare feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While the rain drips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drips, drips, drips from the eaves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i4">A soft day, thank God!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The hills wear a shroud<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of silver cloud;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The web the spider weaves<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is a glittering net;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The woodland path is wet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the soaking earth smells sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under my two bare feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the rain drips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drips, drips, drips from the eaves.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">W. M. Letts</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>ARBUTUS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Not Spring's<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art, but hers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most cool, most virginal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winter's, with thy faint breath, thy snows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose-tinged.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Adelaide Crapsey</span></div> + + +<h3>JEWEL-WEED</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou lonely, dew-wet mountain road,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Traversed by toiling feet each day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What rare enchantment maketh thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Appear so gay?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy sentinels, on either hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rise tamarack, birch, and balsam-fir,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the familiar shrubs that greet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wayfarer;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But here's a magic cometh new—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A joy to gladden thee, indeed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This passionate out-flowering of<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The jewel-weed,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">That now, when days are growing drear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As Summer dreams that she is old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hangs out a myriad pleasure-bells<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of mottled gold!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thine only, these, thou lonely road!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though hands that take, and naught restore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rob thee of other treasured things,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thine these are, for<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A fairy, cradled in each bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To all who pass the charmèd spot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whispers in warning: "Friend, admire,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But touch me not!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">"Leave me to blossom where I sprung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A joy untarnished shall I seem;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pluck me, and you dispel the charm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And blur the dream!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Florence Earle Coates</span></div> + + +<h3>THE WALL</h3> + +<div class="center">"<i>Something there is that doesn't like a wall.</i>" (<span class="smcap">Robert Frost</span>)</div> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">"Not like a wall?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sit above the meadow in the glowing fall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tracing the grey redoubt from square to square<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which bound the acres harvest-ripe and fair,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wonder if it's true?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nay, ask the sumac and the teeming vine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lean upon the boulders,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The crimsoning ivy and the wild woodbine<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Whose eager fingers clutch the stony shoulders,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden rod, the aster and the rue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask the red squirrel with the chubby cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Skipping from stone to stone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By a quick route, his hidden hoard to seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Making the little viaduct his own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look where the woodchuck lifts a cautious head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the rocks close by the cabbage bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The honey-bees have built a secret hive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a forgotten chink;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there a grey cocoon is tucked away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shrouding a miracle in mauve and pink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wait its Easter day.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wall with pageantry is all alive!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And I who gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the dark border here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drawn like a ribbon round the pasture-ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Embroidered with the glory of the year,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do I not like the wall?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo, I remember how in days of old<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My grandsire toiled with weariness and pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dig the cumbering boulders from the mould;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Piled them in ordered rows again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fitting them firm and fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A monument to last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long after his own harried day was past.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +<span class="i2">He cleared the rocky soil for corn and grain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By which his children throve<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To carry on the race.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We live by his life-giving.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see each stone, rough like his granite face,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Uncompromising, stern, no slave to love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dowered with little grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grim with the hard, unjoyful task of living,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But strong to stand the wrath of storm and time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bolts that heaven let fall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Built of a patriot's prime,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I love the wall!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Abbie Farwell Brown</span></div> + + +<h3>BOULDERS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There is a look of wisdom in yon stones,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great boulders basking in the noonday heat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their grimness lightened by a fringe of sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh fern or moss or green-gray lichen tones.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While through the glade an insect army drones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And birds from neighboring boughs their notes repeat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These patriarchs, drowsing as in bliss complete,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest on the flowery sward their tranquil bones.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A thousand or ten thousand years ago,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shattered by frost, or by the torrent's might,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +<span class="i0">These boulders hurtled from some toppling height<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And crashed through forests to the plain below.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, reconciled to Nature's gentler mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They lie on lowly earth and find it good.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Charles Wharton Stork</span></div> + + +<h3>AFTERNOON ON A HILL</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I will be the gladdest thing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Under the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will touch a hundred flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And not pick one;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I will look at cliffs and clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With quiet eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watch the wind bow down the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the grass rise;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And when lights begin to show<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Up from the town,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will mark which must be mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And then start down.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Edna St. Vincent Millay</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE GOLDEN-ROD</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">O Rod of gold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O swaying sceptre of the year—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now frost and cold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Show Winter near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shivering leaves grow brown and sere.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bleak hillside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And marshy waste of yellow reeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And meadows wide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where frosted weeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shake on the damp wind light-winged seeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are decked with thee,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lingering Summer's latest grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sovereignty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each wind-swept space<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waves thy red gold in Winter's face—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He strives each star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In stormy pride to lay full low;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But when thy bar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resists his blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will crown thee with a puff of snow!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Margaret Deland</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE PATH THAT LEADS TO NOWHERE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There's a path that leads to nowhere<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a meadow that I know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where an inland island rises<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the stream is still and slow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There it wanders under willows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And beneath the silver green<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the birches' silent shadows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the early violets lean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Other pathways lead to Somewhere,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the one I love so well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had no end and no beginning—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Just the beauty of the dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just the windflowers and the lilies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yellow striped as adder's tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem to satisfy my pathway<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As it winds their sweets among.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There I go to meet the Spring-time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the meadow is aglow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Marigolds amid the marshes,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the stream is still and slow.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There I find my fair oasis,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And with care-free feet I tread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the pathway leads to nowhere,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the blue is overhead!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +<span class="i0">All the ways that lead to Somewhere<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Echo with the hurrying feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the Struggling and the Striving,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the way I find so sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bids me dream and bids me linger,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Joy and Beauty are its goal,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the path that leads to nowhere<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I have sometimes found my soul!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Corinne Roosevelt Robinson</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<h2>LOVERS AND ROSES</h2> + + +<h3>THE MESSAGE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>So fair the world about me lies,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>So pure is heaven above,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Ere so much beauty dies</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I would give a gift to my love;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Now, ere the long day close,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That has been so full of bliss,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I will send to my love the rose,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>In its leaves I will shut a kiss;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>A rose in the night to perish,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>A kiss through life to cherish;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Now, ere the night-wind blows,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I will send unto her the rose.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">George Edward Woodberry</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>"WHERE LOVE IS LIFE"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Where love is life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The roses blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though winds be rude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cold the snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The roses climb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Serenely slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They nod in rhyme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We know—we know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where love is life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The roses blow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Where life is love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The roses blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though care be quick<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sorrows grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their roots are twined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With rose-roots so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That rosebuds find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A way to show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where life is love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The roses blow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Duncan Campbell Scott</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE TIME OF ROSES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Love, it is the time of roses!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In bright fields and garden-closes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How they burgeon and unfold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How they sweep o'er tombs and towers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In voluptuous crimson showers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And untrammelled tides of gold!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">How they lure wild bees to capture<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the rich mellifluous rapture<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of their magical perfume,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to passing winds surrender<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their frail and dazzling splendor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rivalling your turban-plume!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">How they cleave the air adorning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The high rivers of the morning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a blithe, bejewelled fleet!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How they deck the moonlit grasses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thick rainbow tinted masses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a fair queen's bridal sheet!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Hide me in a shrine of roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drown me in a wine of roses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drawn from every fragrant grove!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Bind me on a pyre of roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burn me in a fire of roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crown me with the rose of Love!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Sarojini Naidu</span></div> + + +<h3>LOVE PLANTED A ROSE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Love planted a rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the world turned sweet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the wheat-field blows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love planted a rose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up the mill-wheel's prose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ran a music-beat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love planted a rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the world turned sweet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Katharine Lee Bates</span></div> + + +<h3>THE GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">My heart shall be thy garden. Come, my own,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into thy garden; thine be happy hours<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Among my fairest thoughts, my tallest flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From root to crowning petal thine alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Thine is the place from where the seeds are sown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Up to the sky enclosed, with all its showers.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But ah, the birds, the birds! Who shall build bowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keep these thine? O friend, the birds have flown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +<span class="i4">For as these come and go, and quit our pine<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To follow the sweet season, or, new-comers,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Sing one song only from our alder-trees,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">My heart has thoughts, which, though thine eyes hold mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fit to the silent world and other summers,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With wings that dip beyond the silver seas.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Alice Meynell</span></div> + + +<h3>CLOUD AND FLOWER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I saw the giant stalking to the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The giant cloud above the wilderness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bearing a mystery too far, too high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For my poor guess.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away I turned me, sighing: "I must seek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In lowlier places for the wonder-word.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something more little, intimate, shall speak."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bright rose stirred.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And long I looked into its face, to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At last some hidden import of the hour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And I had thought to turn from mystery—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But O, flower! flower!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Agnes Lee</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>PROGRESS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There seems no difference between<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-day and yesterday—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The forest glimmers just as green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The garden's just as gay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet, something came and something went<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within the night's chill gloom:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An old rose fell, her fragrance spent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A new rose burst in bloom.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Charlotte Becker</span></div> + + +<h3>"BUT WE DID WALK IN EDEN"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But we did walk in Eden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Eden, the garden of God;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, where no beckoning wonder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the paths we trod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No choiring sun-filled vineyard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No voice of stream or bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But was some radiant oracle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flaming with the Word!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Mine ears are dim with voices;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine eyes yet strive to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The black things here to wonder at,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mirth,—the misery.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Beloved, who wert with me there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How came these shames to be?—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On what lost star are we?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Men say: The paths of gladness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By men were never trod!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But we have walked in Eden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Eden, the garden of God.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Josephine Preston Peabody</span></div> + + +<h3>A GARDEN-PIECE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Among the flowers of summer-time she stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And underneath the films and blossoms shone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her face, like some pomegranate strangely grown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ripe magnificence in solitude;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wanton winds, deft whisperers, had strewed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her shoulders with her shining hair out blown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dyed her breast with many a changing tone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of silvery green, and all the hues that brood<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Among the flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She raised her arm up for her dove to know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he might preen him on her lovely head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I, unseen, and rising on tiptoe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bowed over the rose-barriers, and lo!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Touched not her arm, but kissed her lips instead,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Among the flowers!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Edmund Gosse</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>"HOW MANY FLOWERS ARE GENTLY MET"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">How many flowers are gently met<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within my garden fair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The daffodil, the violet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lilies dear are there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">They fade and pass, the fleeting flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brief their little light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They hold not Love's diviner hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Sower's human night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Tho' one by one their bloom depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No change thy lover knows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For mine the fragrance of thy heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O thou my perfect rose!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">George Sterling</span></div> + + +<h3>WITH A ROSE, TO BRUNHILDE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Brunhilde, with the young Norn soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That has no peace, and grim as those<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That spun the thread of life, give heed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace is concealed in every rose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in these petals peace I bring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A jewel clearer than the dew:<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A perfume subtler than the breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Spring with which it circles you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Peace I have found, asleep, awake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By many paths, on many a strand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace overspreads the sky with stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace is concealed within your hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when at night I clasp it there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wonder how you never know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The strength you shed from finger-tips:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The treasure that consoles me so.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Begin the art of finding peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beloved:—it is art, no less.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes we find it hid beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The orchards in their springtime dress:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes one finds it in oak woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes in dazzling mountain-snows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In books, sometimes. But pray begin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By finding it within a rose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Vachel Lindsay</span></div> + + +<h3>"MY SOUL IS LIKE A GARDEN-CLOSE"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">My soul is like a garden-close<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where marjoram and lilac grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where soft the scent of long ago<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the border lightly blows.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Where sometimes homing winds at play<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bear the faint fragrance of a rose—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My soul is like a garden-close<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because you chanced to pass my way.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Thomas S. Jones, Jr.</span></div> + + +<h3>A DREAM</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I dreamed a dream of roses somewhere breathing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their sweet souls out upon the summer night:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flowers I saw not, but their fragrance wreathing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like clouds of incense filled me with delight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then as if for my still further pleasure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There came a flood of sweetest melody,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But whence I knew not flowed the wondrous measure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For neither flute nor viol could I see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then in the vision love sublime, immortal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Encircled all my soul with its pure stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though I saw thee not through dreamland's portal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I knew thou only hadst inspired the dream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis thus thine influence itself discloses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In dreams of love, of music, and of roses!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Antoinette De Coursey Patterson</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE ROSE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The rose-tree wears a diadem,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Both bud and bloom of gold and fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too high upon the slender stem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For baby hands that reach for them:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And <i>Roses!</i> my brown Elsa cries:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her chubby arms in vain aspire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But rose-leaf Hilda smiles and sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And worships them with patient eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I gathered them a rose or two,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But not the shy one hanging higher<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That brushed my lips with honey-dew!<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That</i> is the rose I send to you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Grace Hazard Conkling</span></div> + + +<h3>PRAYER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Would that I might become you,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Losing myself, my sweet!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So longs the dust that lies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">About the rose's feet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">So longs the last, dim star<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hung on the verge of night;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She moves—she melts—she slips—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She trembles into the light.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">John Hall Wheelock</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>IN A GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I sat one day within a garden fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pining for thee and sad because alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wishing some fate could send thee to me there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">All things appeared to share my saddened mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each flower drooped, the sun was hid from view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very birds in silence seemed to brood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Then, as I day-dreamed with my eyes half closed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sudden the birds began to sing again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flow'rs, uplifting heads, no longer dozed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Thinking the sun had come once more for me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for all nature, to effect such change,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turned and lo! saw not the sun but thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Livingston L. Biddle</span></div> + + +<h3>A SONG OF FAIRIES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Oh, the beauty of the world is in this garden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I hear it stir on every hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See how the flowers keep still because of it!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">hear how it trembles in the blackbird's song!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a secret in it, a blessed mystery.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fain would weep to feel it near me, my eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">grow dim before these unseen wings.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And the secret is in other places, it is in songs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">and music and all lovers' hearts.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hush now, and walk on tiptoe, for these are fairy things.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Elizabeth Kirby</span></div> + + +<h3>A SONG TO BELINDA</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Belinda in her dimity,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whereon are wrought pink roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trips through the boxwood paths to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A-down the garden-closes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though a hundred roses came,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">('Twas so I thought) to meet me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though one rosebud said my name<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bent its head to greet me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Belinda, in your rose-wrought dress<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You seemed the garden's growing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tilt and toss o' you, no less<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than wind-swayed posy blowing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas so I watched in sweet dismay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lest in that happy hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sudden you'd stop and thrill and sway<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And turn into a flower.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Theodosia Garrison</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>SWEETHEART-LADY</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">De roses lean ter love her an' des won't leave de place;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">De climbin' mawnin'-glories sweet-smilin' in her face;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">De twinklin' pathway know her an' seem ter pass de word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' de South Win' singin' ter her ter match de mockin'-bird.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i6">She sweetheart ter de Springtime,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">W'en de dreamy roses stir,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">An' Winter shine lak' Summer<br /></span> +<span class="i8">An' wear a rose fer her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">"Sweetheart!" sing de Medder, w'en lak' de light she pass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">De River take de tune up: "Make me yo' lookin'-glass!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But des who her true lover she never let 'em know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">De Win' is sich a tell-tale, an' de River run on so!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i6">But Springtime come a-courtin'<br /></span> +<span class="i8">An' let de blossoms fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">An' Summer say: "I loves you!"<br /></span> +<span class="i8">She sweetheart ter 'em ALL!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Frank L. Stanton</span></div> + + +<h3>HEART'S GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I have a garden filled with many flowers:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mignonette, the sweet-pea, and the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Daisies, and daffodils, whose color glows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fairer for the verdure which embowers<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Their beauty, and sets forth their hidden powers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To charm my heart, whenever at the close<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of day's dull hurry I would seek repose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my still garden through the darkening hours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Thus, Lady, do I keep a place apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein my love for you cloistered shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far from the rattle of the city cart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even as my garden, where daily I may see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flowers of your love, and none from me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May win the hidden secret of my heart.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Norreys Jephson O'Conor</span></div> + + +<h3>A ROSE LOVER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Do thou, my rose, incline<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy heart to mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If love be real<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, whisper, whisper low<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I at last may know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quick! breathe it now!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sigh,—a tear,—a vow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, any lightest thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its cadences to sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That loved am I, and not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, not forgot!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Frederic A. Whiting</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>SONNET</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The sweet caresses that I gave to you<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are but the perfume of the Rose of Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The color and the witchery thereof,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not the Rose itself. Each is a clue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Merely, whereby to seek the hidden, true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Substantial blossom. Like the Jordan dove<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A kiss is but a symbol from above—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An emblem the Reality shines through.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The Rose of Love is ever unrevealed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In all its beauty, for the sight of it<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were perilous with purpose of the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hand of Life has cautiously concealed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pollen-chamber of the infinite<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flower, and its petals only half uncurled.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Elsa Barker</span></div> + + +<h3>A SONG IN A GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Will the garden never forget<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That it whispers over and over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Where is your lover, Nanette?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where is your lover—your lover?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, roses I helped to grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, lily and mignonette,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Must you always question me so,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Where is your lover, Nanette?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since you looked on my joy one day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is my grief then a lesser thing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have you only this to say<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I pray you for comforting?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Now that I walk alone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here where our hands were met,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must you whisper me everyone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Where is your lover, Nanette?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I have mourned with you year and year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the Autumn has left you bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now that my heart is sere<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Does not one of your roses care?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, help me forget—forget,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor question over and over,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Where is your lover, Nanette?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where is your lover—your lover?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Theodosia Garrison</span></div> + + +<h3>"IT WAS JUNE IN THE GARDEN"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i2">It was June in the garden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was our time, our day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our gaze with love on everything<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Did fall;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +<span class="i2">They seemed then softly opening,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And they saw and loved us both,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The roses all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The sky was purer than all limpid thought;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Insect and bird<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swept through the golden texture of the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Unheard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our kisses were so fair they brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exaltation to both light and bird.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seemed as though a happiness at once<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had skied itself and wished the heavens entire<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For its resplendent fire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And life, all pulsing life, had entered in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the fissures of our beings to the core,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To fling them higher.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And there was nothing but invocatory cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mad impulses, prayers and vows that cleave<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The archèd skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sudden yearning to create new gods,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In order to believe.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Emile Verhaeren</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>TWO ROSES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A fair white rose sedately grows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the garden wall. There blows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No wind to ruff her petals white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No stain of earth, no touch of blight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pure face of my ladye shows.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The queen of all the walls enclose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might be mine own, an' if I chose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But yet, but yet I cannot slight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wild red rose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Outside the garden wall she throws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her clinging tendrils, and she knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How strong the winds of passion smite;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's fragrant, though not faultless quite;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just as she is, none shall depose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My wild red rose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">William Lindsey</span></div> + + +<h3>ROSES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Red roses floating in a crystal bowl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You bring, O love; and in your eyes I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blossom on blossom, your warm love of me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burning within the crystal of your soul—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red roses floating in a crystal bowl.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Wilfrid Wilson Gibson</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>HER GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">This friendly garden, with its fragrant roses,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was not ours, when she was here below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so, in that low bed where she reposes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The beauty of it all she cannot know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But in the evening when the birds are calling<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fragrance rises like a breath of myrrh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my empty heart, benignly falling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Becomes a little prayer to send to her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">So, in that silent, lonely bed that holds her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where nevermore the shadows rise or flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think a dream of radiant spring enfolds her—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of bloom and bird and bending bough ... and me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Louis Dodge</span></div> + + +<h3>ÆRE PERENNIUS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">As long as the stars of God<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hang steadfast in the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the blossoms 'neath the sod<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Awake when Spring is nigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As long as the nightingale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sings love-songs to the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Winter wind in the vale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Makes moan o'er the virgin snows—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +<span class="i0">As long as these things be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would tell my love for thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">As long as the rose of June<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bursts forth in crimson fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the mellow harvest-moon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shines over hill and spire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As long as heaven's dew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At morning kisses the sod;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As long as you are you,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I know that God is God—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As long as these things be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would tell my love for thee!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Charles Hanson Towne</span></div> + + +<h3>EVER THE SAME</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">King Solomon walked a thousand times<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forth of his garden-close;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saw there spring no goodlier thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be sure, than the same little rose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Under the sun was nothing new,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or now, I well suppose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But what new thing could you find to sing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More rare than the same little rose?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing is new; save I, save you,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And every new heart that grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the same Earth met, that nurtures yet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Breath of the same little rose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Josephine Preston Peabody</span></div> + + +<h3>THE MESSAGE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">When one has heard the message of the Rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For what faint other calling shall he care?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dark broodings turn to find their lonely lair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vain world keeps her posturing and pose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, with his crimson secret, which bestows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heaven in his heart, to Heaven lifts his prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And knows all glory trembling through the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As on triumphal journeying he goes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">So through green woodlands in the twilight dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Led by the faint, pale argent of a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">What though to others it is weary night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature holds out her wide, sweet heart to him;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, leaning o'er the world's mysterious bar,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His soul is great with everlasting light.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Helen Hay Whitney</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>TELL-TALE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The Lily whispered to the Rose:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"The Tulip's fearfully stuck up.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You'd think to see the creature's pose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She was a golden altar-cup.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's method in her boldness, too;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She catches twice her share of Dew."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The Rose into the Tulip's ear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Murmured: "The Lily is a sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Don't you believe she <i>powders</i>, dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To make herself so saintly white?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She takes some trouble, it is plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her reputation to sustain."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Said Tulip to the Lily white:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"About the Rose—what do you think?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her color? Should you say it's quite—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Well, quite a natural shade of pink?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Natural!" the Lily cried. "Good Saints!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, <i>everybody</i> knows she paints!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Oliver Herford</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>DA THIEF</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i2">Eef poor man goes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' steals a rose<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Een Juna-time—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wan leetla rose—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You gon' su'pose<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Dat dat's a crime?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Eh! w'at? Den taka look at me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For here bayfore your eyes you see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wan thief dat ees so glad an' proud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gona brag of eet out loud!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So moocha good I do, an' feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From dat wan leetla rose I steal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dat eef I gon' to jail to-day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dey could no tak' my joy away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, lees'en! here ees how eet com':<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Las' night w'en I am walkin' home<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From work een hotta ceety street,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ees sudden com' a smal so sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eet maka heaven een my nose—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I look an' dere I see da rose!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not wan, but manny, fine an' tall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dat peep at me above da wall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, too, I close my eyes an' find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anudder peecture een my mind;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I see a house dat's small an' hot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where manny pretta theengs is not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where leetla woman, good an' true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ees work so hard da whole day through,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's too wore out, w'en com's da night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For smile an' mak' da housa bright.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But, presto! now I'm home an' she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ees settin' on da step weeth me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bambino, sleepin' on her breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ees nevva know more sweeta rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' nevva was sooch glad su'prise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like now ees shina from her eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An' all baycause to-night she wear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wan leetla rose stuck een her hair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She ees so please'! Eet mak' me feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shoulda sooner learned to steal.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i2">Eef "thief's" my name<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I feel no shame;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Eet ees no crime—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dat rose I got.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Eh! w'at? O! not<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Een Juna-time!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">T. A. Daly</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>RESULTS AND ROSES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The man who wants a garden fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or small or very big,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With flowers growing here and there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must bend his back and dig.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The things are mighty few on earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wishes can attain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whate'er we want of any worth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We've got to work to gain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It matters not what goal you seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its secret here reposes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You've got to dig from week to week<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To get Results or Roses.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Edgar A. Guest</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span><br /></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> + +<h2>UNDERNEATH THE BOUGH</h2> + + +<h3>MIRACLE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Yesterday the twig was brown and bare;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To-day the glint of green is there</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To-morrow will be leaflets spare;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I know no thing so wondrous fair</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>No miracle so strangely rare.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>I wonder what will next be there!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">L. H. Bailey</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE AWAKENING</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">You little, eager, peeping thing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You embryonic point of light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pushing from out your winter night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How you do make my pulses sing!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tiny eye amid the gloom—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The merest speck I scarce had seen—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So doth God's rapture rend the tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this wee burst of April green!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And lo, 'tis here—and lo! 'Tis there—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spurting its jets of sweet desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In upward curling threads of fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like tapers kindling all the air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, scarce it seems an hour ago<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These branches clashed in bitter cold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What Power hath set their veins aglow?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O soul of mine, be bold, be bold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If from this tree, this blackened thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hard as the floor my feet have prest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This flame of joy comes clamoring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hues as red as robin's breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waking to life this little twig—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O faith of mine, be big! Be big!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Angela Morgan</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>SHADE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The kindliest thing God ever made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His hand of very healing laid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon a fevered world, is shade.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">His glorious company of trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throw out their mantles, and on these<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dust-stained wanderer finds ease.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Green temples, closed against the beat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of noontime's blinding glare and heat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Open to any pilgrim's feet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The white road blisters in the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, half the weary journey done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enter and rest, Oh, weary one!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And feel the dew of dawn still wet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath thy feet, and so forget<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The burning highway's ache and fret.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">This is God's hospitality,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whoso rests beneath a tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath cause to thank Him gratefully.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Theodosia Garrison</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>SELECTION FROM "UNDER THE TREES"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The wonderful, strong, angelic trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With their blowing locks and their bared great knees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nourishing bosoms, shout all together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rush and rock through the glad wild weather.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">They are so old they teach me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With their strong hands they reach me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into their breast my soul they take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And keep me there for wisdom's sake.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">They teach me little prayers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-day I am their child;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet breath of their innocent airs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blows through me strange and wild.<br /></span> +</div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I never feel afraid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the trees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of trees are houses made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And even with these,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unhewn, untouched, unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is something homelike in the safe sweet green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Intimate in the shade.<br /></span> +</div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">We are all brothers! Come, let's rest awhile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the great kinship. Underneath the trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let's be at home once more, with birds and bees<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And gnats and soil and stone. With these I must<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Acknowledge family ties. Our mother, the dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wistful and investigating eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Searches my soul for the old sturdiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Valor, simplicity! Stout virtues these,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We learned at her dear knees.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Friend, you and I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once played together in the good old days.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you remember? Why, brother, down what wild ways<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We traveled, when—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That's right! Draw close to me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come now, let's tell the tale beneath the old roof-tree.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Anna Hempstead Branch</span></div> + + +<h3>A GARDEN FRIEND</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">O comrade tree, perhaps alive as I—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One process lacking of this mortal clay—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me your constant outlook to the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The courtesy and cheer that fill your day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Your noble gift of perfect service teach;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your wisdom in the wild storm softly bent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aware 'twill end; your patience that can reach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the years from clod to firmament.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Catherine Markham</span> (<span class="smcap">Mrs. Edwin Markham</span>)</div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>A LADY OF THE SNOWS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The mountain hemlock droops her lacy branches<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, so tenderly<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the summer sun!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet she has power to baffle avalanches—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She, rising slenderly<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Where the rivers run.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">So pliant yet so powerful! Oh, see her<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spread alluringly<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Her thin sea-green dress!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now from white winter's thrall the sun would free her<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To bloom unenduringly<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In his glad caress.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Harriet Monroe</span></div> + + +<h3>THE TREE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Spread, delicate roots of my tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feeling, clasping, thrusting, growing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sensitive pilgrim root tips roaming everywhere.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into resistant earth your filaments forcing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down in the dark, unknown, desirous:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The strange ceaseless life of you, eating and drinking of earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The corrosive secretions of you, breaking the stuff of the world to your will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Tips of my tree in the springtime bursting to terrible beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Folded green life, exquisite, holy exultant;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel in you the splendour, the autumn of ripe fulfilment,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love and labour and death, the sacred pageant of life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the sweet curled buds of you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the opening glory of leaves, tissues moulded of green light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Veined, cut, perfect to type,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each one like a child of high lineage bearing the sigil of race.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The open hands of my tree held out to the touch of the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As love that opens its arms and waits on the lover's will;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The curtsey, the sway, and the toss of the spray as it sports with the breeze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rhythmical whisper of leaves that murmur and move in the light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crying of wind in the boughs, the beautiful music of pain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus do you sing and say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sorrow, the effort, the sweet surrender, the joy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Come! tented leaves of my tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High summer is here, the moment of passionate life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hushed, the maternal hour.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in the shaded green your mystery shielding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heir of the ancient woods and parent of forests to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! to your keeping is given the Father's life-giving thought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thing that is dream and deed and carries the gift of the past.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this, for this, great tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glory of maiden leaves, the solemn stretch of the bough,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The wise persistent roots<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the stuff of the world their filaments forcing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breaking the earth to their need.<br /></span> +</div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Tall tree, your name is peace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You are the channel of God:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His mystical sap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Elixir of infinite love, syrup of infinite power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swelling and shaping, brooding and hiding,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With out-thrust of delicate joy, with pitiless pageant of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sings in your cells;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its rhythmical cycle of life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In you is fulfilled.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Evelyn Underhill</span></div> + + +<h3>"LOVELIEST OF TREES"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Loveliest of trees, the cherry now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is hung with bloom along the bough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stands about the woodland ride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wearing white for Eastertide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Now, of my threescore years and ten,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twenty will not come again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And take from seventy springs a score,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It only leaves me fifty more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And since to look at things in bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fifty springs are little room,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About the woodlands I will go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the cherry hung with snow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">A. E. Housman</span></div> + + +<h3>THE SPIRIT OF THE BIRCH</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I am the dancer of the wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shimmer in the solitude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men call me Birch Tree, yet I know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In other days it was not so.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am a Dryad slim and white<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who danced too long one summer night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Dawn found and prisoned me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Captive I moaned my liberty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let the wood wind flutes begin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their elfin music, faint and thin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sway, I bend, retreat, advance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And evermore—I dance! I dance!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Arthur Ketchum</span></div> + + +<h3>FAMILY TREES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">You boast about your ancient line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But listen, stranger, unto mine:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">You trace your lineage afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back to the heroes of a war<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Fought that a country might be free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, farther—to a stormy sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where winter's angry billows tossed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er which your Pilgrim Fathers crossed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, more—through yellow, dusty tomes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You trace your name to English homes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the distant, unknown West<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay open to a world's behest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, back to days of those Crusades<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Turk and Christian crossed their blades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You point with pride to ancient names,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To powdered sires and painted dames;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You boast of this—your family tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now listen, stranger, unto me:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">When armored knights and gallant squires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your own belovèd, honored sires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were in their infants' blankets rolled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fathers' youngest sons were old;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they broke forth in infant tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fathers' heads were crowned with years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, ere the mighty Saxon host<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of which you sing had touched the coast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looked back as far as you look now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, when the Druids trod the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My venerable fathers stood<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And gazed through misty centuries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As far as even Memory sees.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Britain's eldest first beheld<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light, my fathers then were eld.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You of the splendid ancestry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who boast about your family tree,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Consider, stranger, this of mine—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bethink the lineage of a Pine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Douglas Malloch</span></div> + + +<h3>IDEALISTS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Brother Tree:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why do you reach and reach?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you dream some day to touch the sky?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brother Stream:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why do you run and run?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you dream some day to fill the sea?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brother Bird:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why do you sing and sing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you dream—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Young Man:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Why do you talk and talk and talk?</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Alfred Kreymborg</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>"DRAW CLOSER, O YE TREES"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i4">O quiet cottage room,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose casements, looking o'er the garden-close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are hid in wildings and the woodbine bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And many a clambering rose,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i4">Sweet is thy light subdued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gracious and soft, lingering upon my book,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As that which shimmers through the branchèd wood<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Above some dreamful nook!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i4">Leaning within my chair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the curtain I can see the stir—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gentle undulations of the air—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sway the dark-layered fir;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i4">And, in the beechen green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mark many a squirrel romp and chirrup loud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While far beyond, the chestnut-boughs between,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Floats the white summer cloud.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i4">Through the loopholes in the leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the yellow slopes of far-off farms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see the rhythmic cradlers and the sheaves<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Gleam in the binders' arms.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +<span class="i4">At times I note, nearby,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flicker tapping on some hollow bole;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And watch the sun, against the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The fluting oriole;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i4">Or, when the day is done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the warm splendors make the oak-top flush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear him, full-throated in the setting sun,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The darling wildwood thrush.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i4">O sanctuary shade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enfold one round! I would no longer roam:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let not the thought of wandering e'er invade<br /></span> +<span class="i4">This still, reclusive home!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i4">Draw closer, O ye trees!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Veil from my sight e'en the loved mountain's blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world may be more fair beyond all these,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Yet I would know but you!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Lloyd Mifflin</span></div> + + +<h3>TREES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">In the Garden of Eden, planted by God,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There were goodly trees in the springing sod,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Trees of beauty and height and grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stand in splendor before His face.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Apple and hickory, ash and pear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oak and beech and the tulip rare,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The trembling aspen, the noble pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweeping elm by the river line;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Trees for the birds to build and sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lilac tree for a joy in spring;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Trees to turn at the frosty call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And carpet the ground for their Lord's footfall;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Trees for fruitage and fire and shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trees for the cunning builder's trade;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Wood for the bow, the spear, and the flail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The keel and the mast of the daring sail;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">He made them of every grain and girth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the use of man in the Garden of Earth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Then lest the soul should not lift her eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the gift to the Giver of Paradise,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">On the crown of a hill, for all to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God planted a scarlet maple tree.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Bliss Carman</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE TREES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There's something in a noble tree—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What shall I say? a soul?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For 'tis not form, or aught we see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In leaf or branch or bole.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some presence, though not understood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dwells there alway, and seems<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be acquainted with our mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mingles in our dreams.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I would not say that trees at all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were of our blood and race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, lingering where their shadows fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I sometimes think I trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A kinship, whose far-reaching root<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grew when the world began,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made them best of all things mute<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To be the friends of man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Held down by whatsoever might<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unto an earthly sod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They stretch forth arms for air and light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As we do after God;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when in all their boughs the breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Moans loud, or softly sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As our own hearts in us, the trees<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are almost human things.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +<span class="i0">What wonder in the days that burned<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With old poetic dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dead Phaëthon's fair sisters turned<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To poplars by the stream!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In many a light cotillion stept<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The trees when fluters blew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a tear, 'tis said, they wept<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For human sorrow too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Mute, said I? They are seldom thus;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They whisper each to each,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each and all of them to us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In varied forms of speech.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Be serious," the solemn pine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is saying overhead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Be beautiful," the elm-tree fine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has always finely said;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">"Be quick to feel," the aspen still<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Repeats the whole day long;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, from the green slope of the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The oak-tree adds, "Be strong."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When with my burden, as I hear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their distant voices call,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I rise, and listen, and draw near,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Be patient," say they all.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Samuel Valentine Cole</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE POPLARS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">My poplars are like ladies trim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each conscious of her own estate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In costume somewhat over prim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In manner cordially sedate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like two old neighbours met to chat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside my garden gate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">My stately old aristocrats—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fancy still their talk must be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of rose-conserves and Persian cats,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lavender and Indian tea;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wonder sometimes as I pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If they approve of me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I give them greeting night and morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I like to think they answer, too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With that benign assurance born<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When youth gives age the reverence due,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bend their wise heads as I go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As courteous ladies do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Long may you stand before my door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, kindly neighbours garbed in green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bend with rustling welcome o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The many friends who pass between;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where the little children play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look down with gracious mien.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Theodosia Garrison</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>TREES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I think that I shall never see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A poem lovely as a tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A tree whose hungry mouth is prest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A tree that looks at God all day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lifts her leafy arms to pray;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A tree that may in Summer wear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A nest of robins in her hair;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Upon whose bosom snow has lain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who intimately lives with rain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Poems are made by fools like me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But only God can make a tree.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Joyce Kilmer</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span><br /></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE LOST GARDENS OF THE HEART</h2> + + +<h3>AS IN A ROSE-JAR</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>As in a rose-jar filled with petals sweet</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Blown long ago in some old garden place,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Mayhap, where you and I, a little space</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Drank deep of love and knew that love was fleet—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Or leaves once gathered from a lost retreat</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>By one who never will again retrace</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Her silent footsteps—one, whose gentle face</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Was fairer than the roses at her feet;</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>So, deep within the vase of memory</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>I keep my dust of roses fresh and dear</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>As in the days before I knew the smart</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Of time and death. Nor aught can take from me</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>The haunting fragrance that still lingers here—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>As in a rose-jar, so within the heart!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Thomas S. Jones, Jr.</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>IN AN OLD GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Old phantoms haunt it of the long-ago;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old ghosts of old-time lovers and of dreams:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the quiet sunlight there, meseems,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see them walking where those lilies blow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hardy phlox sways to some garments' flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The salvia there with sudden scarlet streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Caught from some ribbon of some throat that gleams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Petunia fair, in flounce and furbelow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seem to hear their whispers in each wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wanders 'mid the flowers. There they stand!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the shadows of that apple tree!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are not dead, whom still it keeps in mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This garden, planted by some lovely hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That keeps it fragrant with its memory.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Madison Cawein</span></div> + + +<h3>THE GARDEN OF DREAMS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">My heart is a garden of dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where you walk when day is done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair as the royal flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calm as the lingering sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Never a drouth comes there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor any frost that mars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the wind of love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the early stars,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The living breath that moves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whispering to and fro,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the voice of God in the dusk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the garden long ago.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Bliss Carman</span></div> + + +<h3>HOMESICK</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">O my garden! lying whitely in the moonlight and the dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far across the leagues of distance flies my heart to-night to you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I see your stately lilies in the tender radiance gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a dim, mysterious splendor, like the angels of a dream!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I can see the stealthy shadows creep along the ivied wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bosky depths of verdure where the drooping vine-leaves fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the tall trees standing darkly with their crowns against the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While overhead the harvest moon goes slowly sailing by.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I can see the trellised arbor, and the roses' crimson glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the lances of the larkspurs all glittering, row on row,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wilderness of hollyhocks, where brown bees seek their spoil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And butterflies dance all day long, in glad and gay turmoil.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +<span class="i0">O, the broad paths running straightly, north and south and east and west!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, the wild grape climbing sturdily to reach the oriole's nest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, the bank where wild flowers blossom, ferns nod and mosses creep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a tangled maze of beauty over all the wooded steep!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Just beyond the moonlit garden I can see the orchard trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With their dark boughs overladen, stirring softly in the breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the shadows on the greensward, and within the pasture bars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The white sheep huddling quietly beneath the pallid stars.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">O my garden! lying whitely in the moonlight and the dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far across the restless ocean flies my yearning heart to you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I turn from storied castle, hoary fane, and ruined shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the dear, familiar pleasaunce where my own white lilies shine—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">With a vague, half-startled wonder if some night in Paradise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the battlements of heaven I shall turn my longing eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the dim, resplendent spaces and the mazy stardrifts through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my garden lying whitely in the moonlight and the dew!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Julia C. R. Dorr</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE WAYS OF TIME</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">As butterflies are but winged flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Half sorry for their change, who fain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So still and long they live on leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would be thought flowers again.—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">E'en so my thoughts, that should expand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And grow to higher themes above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Return like butterflies to lie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the old things I love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">William H. Davies</span></div> + + +<h3>A MIDSUMMER GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There is a little garden-close,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Girdled by golden apple trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That through the long sweet summer hours<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is haunted by the hum of bees.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The poppy tosses here its torch,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the tall bee-balm flaunts its fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And regally the larkspur lifts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The slender azure of its spire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And from the phlox and mignonette<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rich attars drift on every hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when star-vestured twilight comes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pale moths weave a saraband.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And crickets in the aisles of grass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With their clear fifing pierce the hush;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And somewhere you may hear anear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The passion of the hermit-thrush.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It is a place where dreams convene,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dreams of the dead years gone astray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of love and loveliness borne back<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From some forgotten yesterday.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It is a memory-hallowed spot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where joy assumes its vernal guise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And two walk silent side by side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Youth's glory shining in their eyes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Clinton Scollard</span></div> + + +<h3>THE WHITE ROSE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">This is the spirit flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ghost of an old regret;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All night she stands in the garden-close,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And her face with tears is wet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I love the pale white rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For she always seems to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pallid nun who dreams all day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a distant memory.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! how well I know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That every garden spot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is haunted by a gentle ghost<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who will not be forgot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the garden of the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere the sun of life is set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O many a wild rose blooms and dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of many an old regret!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Charles Hanson Towne</span></div> + + +<h3>A HAUNTED GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Between the moss and stone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lonely lilies rise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wasted and overgrown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tangled garden lies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weeds climb about the stoop<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And clutch the crumbling walls;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The drowsy grasses droop—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The night wind falls.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The place is like a wood;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No sign is there to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where rose and iris stood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That once she loved so well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where phlox and asters grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A leafless thornbush stands,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And shrubs that never knew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her tender hands....<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Over the broken fence<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The moonbeams trail their shrouds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their tattered cerements<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cling to the gauzy clouds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In ribbons frayed and thin—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And startled by the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silence shrinks deeper in<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The depths of night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Useless lie spades and rakes;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rust's on the garden-tools.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, where the moonlight makes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nebulous silver pools,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A ghostly shape is cast—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Something unseen has stirred ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was it a breeze that passed?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was it a bird?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Dead roses lift their heads<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Out of a grassy tomb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From ruined pansy-beds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A thousand pansies bloom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gate is opened wide—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The garden that has been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now blossoms like a bride ...<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Who entered in?</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Louis Untermeyer</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE DUSTY HOUR-GLASS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It had been a trim garden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With parterres of fringed pinks and gillyflowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">and smooth-raked walks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silks and satins had brushed the box edges<br /></span> +<span class="i8">of its alleys.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The curved stone lips of its fishponds<br /></span> +<span class="i8">had held the rippled reflections of tricorns and<br /></span> +<span class="i12">powdered periwigs.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The branches of its trees had glittered with lanterns,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">and swayed to the music of flutes and violins.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Now, the fishponds are green with scum;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And paths and flower-beds<br /></span> +<span class="i8">are run together and overgrown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only at one end is an octagonal Summerhouse<br /></span> +<span class="i8">not yet in ruins.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the lozenged panes of its windows,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">you can see the interior:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dusty bench; a fireplace,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">with a lacing of letters carved in the stone above it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A broken ball of worsted<br /></span> +<span class="i8">rolled away into a corner.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Dolci, dolci, i giorni passati!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Amy Lowell</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I went out to the hazel wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because a fire was in my head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cut and peeled a hazel wand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hooked a berry to a thread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when white moths were on the wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And moth-like stars were flickering out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dropped the berry in a stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And caught a little silver trout.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">When I had laid it on the floor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I went to blow the fire a-flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But something rustled on the floor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some one called me by my name:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It had become a glimmering girl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With apple-blossom in her hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who called me by my name and ran<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And faded through the brightening air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Though I am old with wandering<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through hollow lands and hilly lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will find out where she has gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kiss her lips and take her hands;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And walk among long dappled grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pluck till time and times are done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silver apples of the moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden apples of the sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">W. B. Yeats</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE THREE CHERRY TREES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i2">There were three cherry trees once,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grew in a garden all shady;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there for delight of so gladsome a sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Walked a most beautiful lady,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dreamed a most beautiful lady.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i2">Birds in those branches did sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blackbird and throstle and linnet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she walking there was by far the most fair—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lovelier than all else within it,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blackbird and throstle and linnet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i2">But blossoms to berries do come,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All hanging on stalks light and slender,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one long summer's day charmed that lady away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With vows sweet and merry and tender;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A lover with voice low and tender.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i2">Moss and lichen the green branches deck;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weeds nod in its paths green and shady;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet a light footstep seems there to wander in dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ghost of that beautiful lady,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That happy and beautiful lady.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Walter de la Mare</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>OLD GARDENS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The white rose tree that spent its musk<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For lovers' sweeter praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stately walks we sought at dusk,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have missed thee many days.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Again, with once-familiar feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I tread the old parterre—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah, its bloom is now less sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than when thy face was there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I hear the birds of evening call;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I take the wild perfume;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pluck a rose—to let it fall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And perish in the gloom.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Arthur Upson</span></div> + + +<h3>THE BLOOMING OF THE ROSE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">What is it like, to be a rose?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Old Roses, softly</i>, "Try and see."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Nay, I will tarry. Let me be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my green peacefulness and smile.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will stay here and dream awhile.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis well for little buds to dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dream—dream—who knows—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, is it good to be a rose?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old roses, tell me! Is it good?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Old Roses, very softly</i>, "Good."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I am afraid to be a rose!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This little sphere wherein I wait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Curled up and small and delicate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lets in a twilight of pure green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein are dreams of night and morn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sweet stillness of a world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all things are that are unborn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Old Roses</i>, "Better to be born."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I cannot be a bud for long.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sheath is like a heart full blown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, the silence of a song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Withdrawn into that heart alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well knowing that it shall be sung.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outside the great world comes and goes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think I doubt, to be a rose—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Old Roses</i>, "Doubt? To be a Rose!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Anna Hempstead Branch</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE GARDEN OF MNEMOSYNE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There are no roses in the garden now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The summer birds have vanished oversea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ashen keys hang rusty on the bough,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Autumn's gold ensigns flame from tree to tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Music and perfume sleep, and light is fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Autumn's fine gold is faery gold, we know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where shall we turn for joy when flowers are dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When birds are silent, and the cold winds blow?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The summer birds have vanished oversea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Memory's palace-courts are full of song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There sings a nightingale for you and me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And there a hidden lute plays all day long.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There are no roses in the garden now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Memory's garden grows each day more fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sun, moon, and stars her orchard close endow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And there bloom roses—roses everywhere.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Rosamund Marriott Watson</span></div> + + +<h3>BALLADE OF THE DREAMLAND ROSE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Where the waves of burning cloud are rolled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the further shore of the sunset sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a land of wonder that none behold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There blooms a rose on the Dreamland Tree<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +<span class="i0">That stands in the Garden of Mystery<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the River of Slumber softly flows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whenever a dream has come to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A petal falls from the Dreamland Rose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">In the heart of the tree, on a branch of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A silvern bird sings endlessly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mystic song that is ages old,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A mournful song in a minor key,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full of the glamour of faery;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And whenever a dreamer's ears unclose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the sound of that distant melody,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A petal falls from the Dreamland Rose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Dreams and visions in hosts untold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Throng around on the moonlit lea:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreams of age that are calm and cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dreams of youth that are fair and free—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark with a lone heart's agony,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bright with a hope that no one knows—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whenever a dream and a dream agree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A petal falls from the Dreamland Rose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<div class="center"><span class="smcap">ENVOI</span><br /></div> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Princess, you gaze in a reverie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the drowsy firelight redly glows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slowly you raise your eyes to me ...<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A petal falls from the Dreamland Rose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Brian Hooker</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE FLOWERS OF JUNE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">These flowers of June<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gates of memory unbar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These flowers of June<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such old-time harmonies retune,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I fain would keep the gates ajar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So full of sweet enchantment are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These flowers of June.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Was it the bloom of the laurel sprays,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That wakened remembrance of singing birds?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or, was it the charm of remembered words,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That set my heart singing through somber days?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I longed for the summer-time, flower and tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lo! the summer-time came with thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bloom is no more, but the charm still stays.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">James Terry White</span></div> + + +<h3>IN MEMORY'S GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There is a garden in the twilight lands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Memory, where troops of butterflies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flutter adown the cypress paths, and bands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of flowers mysterious droop their drowsy eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There through the silken hush come footfalls faint<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hurried through the vague parterres, and sighs<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Whispering of rapture or of sweet complaint<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like ceaseless parle of bees and butterflies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And by one lonely pathway steal I soon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To find the flowerings of the old delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our hearts together knew—when lo, the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Turns all the cypress alleys into white.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Thomas Walsh</span></div> + + +<h3>SERENADE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Dark is the iris meadow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark is the ivory tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lightly the young moth's shadow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleeps on the passion-flower.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Gone are our day's red roses.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So lovely and lost and few,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the first star uncloses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A silver bud in the blue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Night, and a flame in the embers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the seal of the years was set,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the almond-bough remembers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How shall my heart forget?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Marjorie L. C. Pickthall</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>"WHAT HEART BUT FEARS A FRAGRANCE?"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">What heart but fears a fragrance?<br /></span> +<span class="i14">Alien they<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who breathe in the white lilac only May;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there be other spirits unto whom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fate's kiss lies dreaming in each stray perfume!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Who mock at ghosts of odour—poor they be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bereft the scented balms of memory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For unto one in April's rain-blest earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There starts for aye the sharp, glad cry of birth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Love will find in rooms unbarred for years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Familiar sweetness loosing sudden tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clasping the will in mastering embrace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in the presence of a phantom grace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Then there be odours pungent—fires in Fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gipsying of boyhood to recall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there be perfumes holy—nay, but one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose pang is like none other 'neath the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To drown the sinking senses in a joy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond all time to weaken or destroy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Odours there be that swoon, entreat, caress—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Elusive thrall, to doom or stab or bless;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each vagrant scent that holds the breath in fee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth wed the heart in Life's eternity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Who fear no wraiths of fragrance—sorry they;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who breathe in lilac odours only May;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there be other mortals unto whom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White magic wanders in each stray perfume.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Martha Gilbert Dickinson Bianchi</span></div> + + +<h3>YEARS AFTERWARD</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It is not sight or sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, when a heart forgets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most makes it to remember:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's some old poignant scent re-found—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like breath of April violets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or apples of September.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It isn't song or scene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That stirs the tears again:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's brush smoke from the hills at night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spicy and sweet; or that wet, keen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long lost aroma of delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh ploughed fields after rain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Nancy Byrd Turner</span></div> + + +<h3>AUTUMNAL</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Across the scented garden of my dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where roses grew, Time passes like a thief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among my trees his silver sickle gleams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The grass is stained with many a ruddy leaf;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And on cold winds the petals float away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That were the pride of June and her array.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The bare boughs weave a net upon the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To catch Love's wings and his fair body bruise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are no flowers in the rosary—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No song-birds in the mournful avenues;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though on the sodden air not lightly breaks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The elegy of Youth, whom love forsakes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah, Time! one flower of all my garden spare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One rose of all the roses, that in this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I may possess my love's perfumed hair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all the crimson secrets of her kiss.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grant me one rose that I may drink its wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from her lips win the last anodyne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">For I have learnt too many things to live,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I have loved too many things to die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But all my barren acres I would give<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For one red blossom of eternity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To animate the darkness and delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spaces and the silences of night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But dreams are tender flowers that in their birth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are very near to death, and I shall reap,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Who planted wonder, unavailing earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Harsh thorns and miserable husks of sleep.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have had dreams, but have not conquered Time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love shall vanish like an empty rhyme.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Richard Middleton</span></div> + + +<h3>"OH, TELL ME HOW MY GARDEN GROWS"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Oh, tell me how my garden grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now I no more may labor there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do still the lily and the rose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bloom on without my fostering care?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Do peonies blush as deep with pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The larkspurs burn as bright a blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And velvet pansies stare as wide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I wonder, as they used to do?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The tender things that would not blow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unless I coaxed them, do they raise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their petals in a sturdy row,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forgetful, to the stranger's gaze?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Or do they show a paler shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sigh a little in the wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For one whose sheltering presence made<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their step-dame Nature less unkind?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, tell me how my garden grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where I no more may take delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if some dream of me it knows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who dream of it by day and night.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Mildred Howells</span></div> + + +<h3>HER GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">This was her dearest walk last year. Her hands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set all the tiny plants, and tenderly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pressed firm the unfamiliar soil; and she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was who watered them at evening time.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She loved them; and I too, because of her.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now another June has come, while I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Am walking in the shadow, sad, alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet when I reach the rose-path that was hers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And breathe the fragrancy of bud and bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She stands beside; the murmur of the leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The well-remembered rustle of her gown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And low her whisper comes, "My dear! My dear!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is her garden. Only she and I—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But always we—may walk its hallowed ways;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the thoughts she planted in my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunned with her smile, and chastened with her tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again have blossomed—love's perennials.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Eldredge Denison</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE LITTLE GHOST</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I knew her for a little ghost<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That in my garden walked,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wall is high—higher than most—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the green gate was locked;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And yet I did not think of that<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till after she was gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I knew her by the broad white hat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All ruffled, she had on,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">By the dear ruffles round her feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By her small hands, that hung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their lace mitts, austere and sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her gown's white folds among.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I watched to see if she would stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What she would do,—and, oh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She looked as if she liked the way<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I let my garden grow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">She bent above my favorite mint<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With conscious garden grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She smiled and smiled,—there was no hint<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of sadness in her face;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">She held her gown on either side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To let her slippers show,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And up the walk she went with pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The way great ladies go;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And where the wall is built in new,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And is of ivy bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She paused,—then opened and passed through<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A gate that once was there.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Edna St. Vincent Millay</span></div> + + +<h3>ROSES IN THE SUBWAY</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A wan-cheeked girl with faded eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Came stumbling down the crowded car,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clutching her burden to her breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As though she held a star.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Roses, I swear it! Red and sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And struggling from her pinched white hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roses ... like captured hostages<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From far and fairy lands!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The thunder of the rushing train<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was like a hush.... The flower scent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathed faintly on the stale, whirled air<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like some dim sacrament—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I saw a garden stretching out<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And morning on it like a crown—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er a bed of crimson bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My mother ... stooping down.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Dana Burnet</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE GARDEN OVER-SEAS</h2> + + +<h3>A GARDEN PRAYER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>That we are mortals and on earth must dwell</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Thou knowest, Allah, and didst give us bread—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And remembering of our souls didst give us food of flowers—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Thy name be hallowed.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Thomas Walsh</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>IN THE GARDEN-CLOSE AT MEZRA</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">In the garden-close at Mezra,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the cactus was in flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We sat apart together<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the languid noonday hour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I was her Arab lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Of course it was all in play!)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I called her "Star-of-Twilight,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I called her "Dream-of-Day."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">She—has she quite forgotten?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soothly, I do not know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ever she tenderly opens<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The volume of Long Ago.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But I—I can still remember<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her lips like the cactus flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the garden-close at Mezra<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the languid noonday hour!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Clinton Scollard</span></div> + + +<h3>THE CACTUS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The scarlet flower, with never a sister-leaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stemless, springs from the edge of the Cactus-thorn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus from the rugged wounds of desperate grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A beautiful Thought, perfect and pure, is born.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Laurence Hope</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE WHITE PEACOCK</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Here where the sunlight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Floodeth the garden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the pomegranate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reareth its glory<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of gorgeous blossom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the oleanders<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dream through the noontides;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like surf o' the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round cliffs of basalt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thick magnolias<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In billowy masses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Front the sombre green of the ilexes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here where the heat lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale blue in the hollows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where blue are the shadows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the fronds of the cactus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where pale blue the gleaming<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fir and cypress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the cones upon them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amber or glowing with virgin gold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here where the honey-flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes the heat fragrant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As though from the gardens<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Gulistan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the bulbul singeth<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Through a mist of roses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A breath were borne:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here where the dream-flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cream-white poppies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silently waver,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where the Scirocco,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faint in the hollows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foldeth his soft white wings in the sunlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lieth sleeping<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in the heart of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sea of white violets:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, as the breath, as the soul of this beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moveth in silence, and dreamlike, and slowly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White as a snow-drift in mountain-valleys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When softly upon it the gold light lingers:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White as the foam o' the sea that is driven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er billows of azure agleam with sun-yellow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cream-white and soft as the breasts of a girl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moves the White Peacock, as though through the noontide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dream of the moonlight were real for a moment.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dim on the beautiful fan that he spreadeth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foldeth and spreadeth abroad in the sunlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dim on the cream-white are blue adumbrations,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shadows so pale in their delicate blueness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That visions they seem as of vanishing violets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fragrant white violets veined with azure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale, pale as the breath of blue smoke in far woodlands.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Here, as the breath, as the soul of this beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White as the cloud through the heats of the noontide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moves the White Peacock.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">William Sharp</span></div> + + +<h3>AT ISOLA BELLA</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Once at Isola Bella,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With sunset in the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We stood on the topmost terrace—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You and I.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Around us Lago Maggiore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Incomparably fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave back the hues of heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the Italian air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Then up the marble terrace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Below the cypress trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came a flock of milk-white peacocks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With fans spread to the breeze.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Rose-pink on each outspread feather,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rose-pink upon the crest,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never were birds in plumage<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So ravishingly drest!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Wherever we walked they followed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stately at our feet,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +<span class="i0">No picture so enchanting<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will any hour repeat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And here in the murky city<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those milk-white peacocks seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To follow and follow me ever<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like ghosts of a haunting dream.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Jessie B. Rittenhouse</span></div> + + +<h3>THE FOUNTAIN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">All through the deep blue night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fountain sang alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It sang to the drowsy heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the satyr carved in stone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The fountain sang and sang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the satyr never stirred—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the great white moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the empty heaven heard.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The fountain sang and sang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While on the marble rim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The milk-white peacocks slept,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their dreams were strange and dim.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Bright dew was on the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the ilex, dew,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The dreamy milk-white birds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were all a-glisten, too.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The fountain sang and sang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The things one cannot tell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreaming peacocks stirred<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the gleaming dew-drops fell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Sara Teasdale</span></div> + + +<h3>THE CHAMPA FLOWER</h3> + +<p>Supposing I became a champa flower, just for fun, and +grew on a branch high up that tree, and shook in the wind with +laughter and danced upon the newly budded leaves, would you +know me, mother?</p> + +<p>You would call, "Baby, where are you?" and I should +laugh to myself and keep quite quiet.</p> + +<p>I should slyly open my petals and watch you at your work.</p> + +<p>When after your bath, with wet hair spread on your shoulders, +you walked through the shadow of the champa tree to the +little court where you say your prayers, you would notice the +scent of the flower, but not know that it came from me.</p> + +<p>When after the midday meal you sat at the window reading +<i>Ramayana</i>, and the tree's shadow fell over your hair and your +lap, I should fling my wee little shadow on to the page of your +book, just where you were reading.</p> + +<p>But would you guess that it was the tiny shadow of your +little child?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + +<p>When in the evening you went to the cow-shed with the lighted +lamp in your hand, I should suddenly drop on to the earth again +and be your own baby once more, and beg you to tell me a story.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been, you naughty child?"</p> + +<p>"I won't tell you, mother." That's what you and I would +say then.</p> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Rabindranath Tagore</span></div> + + +<h3>IN AN EGYPTIAN GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Can it be winter otherwhere?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forsooth, it seems not so!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moonlight on the garden square<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must be the only snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all about me, fragrant fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blooms of summer blow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Wine-lipped and beautiful and bland,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rose displays its dower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heavy-scented citron and<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stainless lily-tower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whiter than a houri's hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">El Ful, the Arab flower.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">In purple silhouette a palm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lifts from a vine-wreathed plinth<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Against a sky whose cloudless calm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is hued like hyacinth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And echoes with a bulbul's psalm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The jasmine labyrinth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">In life's tumultuous ocean swell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here is a charmèd isle;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear a late muezzin tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His holy tale the while,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like the faint notes of a bell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The boat-songs of old Nile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Across my spirit thrills no theme<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That is not marvel-bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see within the lotus gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The nectar of delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, tasting it, I drift and dream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adown the glamoured night!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Clinton Scollard</span></div> + + +<h3>EVENING IN OLD JAPAN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Peaceful and mellow looks the sky to-night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As some great Buddha made of ivory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon whose brow is set a moonstone white,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shining emblem of its purity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A dim blue haze like incense, rising high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Merges together mountain, tree, and stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But over all still broods an ivory sky<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cloudless as Buddha's face, one gem agleam.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Antoinette de Coursey Patterson</span></div> + + +<h3>REFLECTIONS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">When I looked into your eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw a garden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With peonies, and tinkling pagodas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And round-arched bridges<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over still lakes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A woman sat beside the water<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a rain-blue, silken garment.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She reached through the water<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pluck the crimson peonies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the surface.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But as she grasped the stems,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They jarred and broke into white-green ripples.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as she drew out her hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The water drops dripping from it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stained her rain-blue dress like tears.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Amy Lowell</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>IN THE GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Do you remember, Sister,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden afternoon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we looked upon the lotus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And listened to the croon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the doves that sat together<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the flowers of June?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And deep among the valleys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A far, sweet sound was heard—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some fluter in the forest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That like a magic bird<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sang of the unseen heavens<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mystic Way and Word.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Pai Ta-Shun</span></div> + + +<h3>THE DESERTED GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I hear no more the swish of silks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along the marble walks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The autumn wind blows sharp and cold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the flowerless stalks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">In place of petals of the peach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fast drifts the yellow leaf;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And looking in the lotus-pond<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see one face of grief.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Pai Ta-Shun</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>A ROMAN GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">All night above that garden the rose-flushed moon will sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making the darkness deeper where hides the nightingale.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Below the Sabine mountain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tossed and slender fountain<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Will curve, a lily pale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where the plumed pine soars tallest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis there, O nightingale, thou callest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the loud water leaps the highest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis there, O nightingale, thou criest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dripping luscious dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hark, oh, hark!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wonderful, delirious,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soul of joy mysterious.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A garden full of fragrances,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of pauses and of cadences,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whence come they all?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of cypresses and ilex-trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plumes and dark candles like to these<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were long ago Persephone's.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">All night within that garden<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The glimmering gods of stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The satyrs and the naiads<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Will laugh to be alone,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In starless courts of shadows<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By silence overgrown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save for the nightingale's<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Wild lyric thither blown.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">By pools and dusky closes<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Dim shapes will move about,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twirled wands and masks and faces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dancers and wreaths of roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The moonlight's trick, no doubt.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A naked nymph upon the stair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sculptured vine that clasps the air,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then one Bacchic bird somewhere<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Will pour his passion out.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All night above that garden the rose-flushed moon will sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making the darkness deeper where hides the nightingale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Down yonder velvet alley,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Floats Daphne like a feather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A finger bidding silence,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The dark and she together.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look, where the secret fount is misting.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Apollo, thou shalt have thy trysting:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For where a ruined sphinx lay smiling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wood-girl waits thee, white, beguiling.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All night above that garden the rose-flushed moon will sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making the darkness deeper where hides the nightingale.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Florence Wilkinson Evans</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>COMO IN APRIL</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The wind is Winter, though the sun be Spring:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The icy rills have scarce begun to flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birds unconfidently fly and sing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">As on the land once fell the northern foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hostile mountains from the passes fling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their vandal blasts upon the lake below.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Not yet the round clouds of the Maytime cling<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Above the world's blue wonder's curving show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tempt to linger with their lingering.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet doth each slope a vernal promise know:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">See, mounting yonder, white as angel's wing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A snow of bloom to meet the bloom of snow.<br /></span> +</div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Love, need we more than our imagining<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To make the whole year May? What though<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind be Winter if the heart be Spring?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Robert Underwood Johnson</span></div> + + +<h3>AN EXILE'S GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I live in the heart of a garden<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With cypresses all about;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the east and west, and the south and north,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Straight shadowy paths run out.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +<span class="i0">There are ancient gods in my garden;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They have faces young and pale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a hundred thousand roses here<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Enrapture the nightingale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet, among the gods of the garden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The roses and gods, I think,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Daylong, of a far-off clover field,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the song of a bob-o-link.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Sophie Jewett</span></div> + + +<h3>THE CLOISTER GARDEN AT CERTOSA</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It is a place monastic, set above<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The city's pride and pleasuring below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The benediction of the sky breathes love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Over the olive trees and vines a-row.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The old gray walls are delicate to prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And silence; in the corridors dim-lit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lurks many a painting, many a fresco rare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Done by some brother for the joy of it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Pale lavender and red pomegranate trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Roses and poppies spilling garden sweets;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tall lush grass and grain, and, circling these,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cool of cloistral walks and shadowed seats.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +<span class="i0">By a sun-dial in the center, rests<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One brown-robed Father; and his lips recite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some holy word; little he heeds the jests<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of those who make the world their chief delight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">While Florence, far below, from dreamy towers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throws back the sun and tolls the tranquil hours.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Richard Burton</span></div> + + +<h3>A GARDEN IN VENICE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There is a garden in a vineyard set<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath the spell of Adriatic skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A lovely place of dreams and ecstasies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of color tangled in a verdant net,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shimmer of the low lagoon whose fret<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Washes the garden's length, and rose that vies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With rose, pomegranate and tall flowers that rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above their fellows in one glory met.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there I think in the still summer night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When all the world is sleeping save the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the blest nightingale who shuns the noon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The closed flowers open out of sheer delight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the white lilies bow their slender stalks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For thro' them, 'neath the vines Madonna walks.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Dorothy Frances Gurney</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>IN A GARDEN OF GRANADA</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The city rumour rises all the day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Across the potted plants along the wall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun and winds upon the slopes hold sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tossing the dust and shadows in a squall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The sun is old and weary—weary here<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the ageing roofs and miradors,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The broken terraces and basins drear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where each old bell its ancient echoes pours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Ringing—what memories to ring—to those<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That linger here—the lizard and the cat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That haunt these solitudes in state morose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the long day their silent habitat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Untroubled,—save when in the moonlight steals<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some voice in song across the lower wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sudden magic each old rafter feels,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The while the echoes round it rise and fall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">For as the wail of love or sorrow rings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Along the night soft steps are on the stair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pathway; in the broken window wings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are stirring, and white arms are lolling there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And that old rose tree lifts its head anew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And there is perfume o'er the hills afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From where Alhambra's crescent cleaves the blue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To where agleam Genil and Darro are.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">O Voice!—what is thy necromantic word<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That all Granada waits adown the years?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it the sound some love-swept night has heard?—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cry of love amid the cry of tears?—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Thomas Walsh</span></div> + + +<h3>AMIEL'S GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">His Garden! His bright candelabra trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">En fête. His lilacs steeped in joy! His sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Limpid and blue! The same flecked shadows lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Athwart this path he paced. His reveries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Float in the air. His moods, his ecstasies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still linger charmed. Pale butterflies flit by—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were one his soul it had not found on high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Banquet more choice than those infinities<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He daily knew. And now no one to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hovering hours, the singing grass, to feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wrinkles of the soul smooth out, to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God's shadow bend down from eternity—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His garden empty! Yet I gently steal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest I disturb his dreams still smiling near.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Gertrude Huntington McGiffert</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>EDEN-HUNGER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">O that a nest, my mate! were once more ours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where we, by vain and barren change untutored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could have grave friendships with wise trees and flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And live the great, green life of field and orchard!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">From the cold birthday of the daffodils,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'en to that listening pause that is November,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O to confide in woods, confer with hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And then—then, to that palmland you remember,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Fly swift, where seas that brook not Winter's rule<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are one vast violet breaking into lilies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There where we spent our first strange wedded Yule,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the far, golden, fire-hearted Antilles.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">William Watson</span></div> + + +<h3>THE GARDEN AT BEMERTON</h3> + +<div class="center">FOR A FLYLEAF OF HERBERT'S POEMS</div> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Year after year, from dusk to dusk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet this English garden grows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steeped in two centuries' sun and musk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walled from the world in gray repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harbor of honey-freighted bees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wealthy with the rose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Here pinks with spices in their throats<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nod by the bitter marigold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here nightingales with haunting notes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When west and east with stars are bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From out the twisted hawthorn-trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sing back the weathers old.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">All tuneful winds do down it pass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The leaves a sudden whiteness show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And delicate noises fill the grass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The only flakes its spaces know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are petals blown off briers long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heaped on blades below.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah! dawn and dusk, year after year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis more than these that keeps it rare!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We see the saintly Master here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pacing along the alleys fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And catch the throbbing of a song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the amber air!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Lizette Woodworth Reese</span></div> + + +<h3>IN AN OXFORD GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">As one whose road winds upward turns his face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the valleys where he late hath stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaning upon his staff in peace to brood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On many a beauty of the distant place,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +<span class="i0">So I in this cool garden pause a space,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reviewing many things in many a mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Accumulating friends in solitude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the assembly of my thoughts and days.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Arthur Upson</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE HOMELY GARDEN</h2> + + +<h3>"GRANDMOTHER'S GATHERING BONESET"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Grandmother's gathering boneset to-day;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>In the garret she'll dry and hang it away.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Next winter I'll "need" some boneset tea—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I wish she wouldn't think always of me!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Edith M. Thomas</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>A BREATH OF MINT</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">What small leaf-fingers veined with emerald light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay on my heart that touch of elfin might?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">What spirals of sharp perfume do they fling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To blur my page with swift remembering?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Borne in a country basket marketward,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their message is a music spirit-heard,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A pebble-hindered lilt and gurgle and run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of tawny singing water in the sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Their coolness brings that ecstasy I knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down by the mint-fringed brook that wandered through<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">My mellow meadows set with linden-trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loud with the summer jargon of the bees.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Their magic has its way with me until<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see the storm's dark wing shadow the hill<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">As once I saw: and draw sharp breath again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feel their arrowy fragrance pierce the rain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">O sudden urging sweetness in the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exhaled, diffused about me everywhere,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Yours is the subtlest word the summer saith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vanished summers sigh upon your breath.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Grace Hazard Conkling</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>A SELLER OF HERBS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Black, comely, of abiding cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three times a week she fares,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Townward from gabled Windermere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sell her dainty wares.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Green balms she brings from winding lanes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some in handfuls tall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the old days of Annes and Janes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grown by a kitchen wall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Keen mint has she in dewy sprigs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With spears of violet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the spiced bloom of elder-twigs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a field's hollow set.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">My snatch of May I get from her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In white buds off a tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">June in one whiff of lavender,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That breaks my heart for me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The swaying boughs of Windermere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each gust that takes the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High over the town roar I hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When that old stall I pass.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +<span class="i0">What homely memories are mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At sight of her quaint stalks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of grave dusks mellowing like wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down long, box-bordered walks;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Of garret windows eastward thrust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of rafters shining dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heaped with herbs as gray as dust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All scented to the brim.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">This lady of the market-place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three times a week and more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pray her seasons thick with grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ever at her door,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Shut from the road by wall of stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ample cherry trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A garden fair as Herrick's own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And just as full of bees!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Lizette Woodworth Reese</span></div> + + +<h3>LAVENDER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Gray walls that lichen stains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That take the sun and the rains,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Old, stately, and wise:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clipt yews, old lawns flag-bordered,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In ancient ways yet ordered;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">South walks where the loud bee plies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Daylong till Summer flies—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here grows Lavender, here breathes England.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Gay cottage gardens, glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comely, unkempt, and mad,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Jumbled, jolly, and quaint;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nooks where some old man dozes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Currants and beans and roses<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mingling without restraint;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A wicket that long lacks paint—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here grows Lavender, here breathes England.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Sprawling for elbow-room,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spearing straight spikes of bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clean, wayward, and tough;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet and tall and slender,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True, enduring, and tender,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Buoyant and bold and bluff,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Simplest, sanest of stuff—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus grows Lavender, thence breathes England.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">W. W. Blair Fish</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>DAWN IN MY GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I went into my garden at break of Delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before Joy had risen in the Eastern sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see how many cucumbers had happened over night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And how much higher stood the corn that yesterday was high.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I went into my garden when Rest had fallen away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the tops of blue hills, from the valleys gold and green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see how far the beans had travelled up into the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And whether all my lettuces were glad and cool and clean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I went into my garden when Mirth was laughing low<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the sharp-scented leaves of the lush tomato vines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the long blue-grey leaves of the turnips in a row,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where early in the every day the dew shakes and shines.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Oh, Rest had slipped away from the valleys green and gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the tops of blue hills that were silent all the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the big, round Joy was rising, busy and bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I went into my garden at break of Delight!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Marguerite Wilkinson</span></div> + + +<h3>THE PROUD VEGETABLES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">In a funny little garden not much bigger than a mat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There lived a thriving family, its members all were fat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But some were short, and some were tall, and some were almost round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And some ran high on bamboo poles, and some lay on the ground.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of these old Father Pumpkin was, perhaps, the proudest one.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He claimed to trace his family vine directly from the sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"We both are round and yellow, we both are bright," said he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"A stronger family likeness one could scarcely wish to see."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Old Mrs. Squash hung on the fence; she had a crooked neck,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps 'twas hanging made it so,—her nerves were quite a wreck.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near by, upon a planted row of faggots, dry and lean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young cucumbers climbed to swing their Indian clubs of green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A big white <i>daikon</i> hid in earth beneath his leafy crest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mole-like sweet potatoes crept around his quiet nest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above were growing pearly pease, and beans of many kinds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pods like tiny castanets to mock the summer winds.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There, in a spot that feels the sun, the swarthy egg-plant weaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great webs of frosted tapestry and hangs them out for leaves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its funny azure blossoms give a merry, shrivelled wink,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lifting up the leaves display great drops of purple ink.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Now, life went on in harmony and pleasing indolence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Mrs. Squash had vertigo and tumbled off the fence;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not to earth she fell! Alas,—but down, with all her force,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon old Father Pumpkin's head, and cracked his skull, of course.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +<span class="i0">At this a fearful din arose. The pods began to split,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cucumbers turned a sickly hue, the <i>daikon</i> had a fit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet potatoes rent the ground,—the egg-plant dropped his loom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While every polished berry seemed to gain an added gloom.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And, worst of all, there came a man, who once had planted them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He dug that little family up by root and leaf and stem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He piled them high in baskets, in a most unfeeling way—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All this was told me by the cook,—we ate the last to-day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Mary McNeil Fenollosa</span></div> + + +<h3>THE CHOICE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">When skies are blue and days are bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A kitchen-garden's my delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set round with rows of decent box<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blowsy girls of hollyhocks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Before the lark his Lauds hath done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ere the corncrake's southward gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the thrush good-night hath said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the young Summer's put to bed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The currant-bushes' spicy smell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Homely and honest, likes me well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The while on strawberries I feast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And raspberries the sun hath kissed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Beans all a-blowing by a row<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hives that great with honey go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With mignonette and heaths to yield<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The plundering bee his honey-field.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweet herbs in plenty, blue borage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the delicious mint and sage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rosemary, marjoram, and rue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thyme to scent the winter through.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Here are small apples growing round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And apricots all golden-gowned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And plums that presently will flush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And show their bush a Burning Bush.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Cherries in nets against the wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Master Thrush his madrigal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sings, and makes oath a churl is he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who grudges cherries for a fee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Lavender, sweet-briar, orris. Here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall Beauty make her pomander,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sweet-balls for to lay in clothes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wrap her as the leaves the rose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Take roses red and lilies white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A kitchen-garden's my delight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its gillyflowers and phlox and cloves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its tall cote of irised doves.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Katharine Tynan</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THOUGHTS FER THE DISCURAGED FARMER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The summer winds is sniffin' round the bloomin' locus' trees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the clover in the pastur' is a big day fer the bees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they been a-swiggin' honey, above board and on the sly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tel they stutter in theyr buzzin' and stagger as they fly.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flicker on the fence-rail 'pears to jest spit on his wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And roll up his feathers, by the sassy way he sings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hoss-fly is a-whettin'-up his forelegs fer biz,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the off-mare is a-switchin' all of her tail they is.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">You can hear the blackbirds jawin' as they foller up the plow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, theyr bound to git theyr brekfast, and theyr not a carin' how;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So they quarrel in the furries, and they quarrel on the wing—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But theyr peaceabler in pot-pies than any other thing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it's when I git my shotgun drawed up in stiddy rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's as full of tribbelation as a yeller-jacket's nest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a few shots before dinner, when the sun's a-shinin' right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems to kindo'-sorto' sharpen up a feller's appetite!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">They's been a heap o' rain, but the sun's out to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the clouds of the wet spell is all cleared away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the woods is all the greener, and the grass is greener still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It may rain again to-morry, but I don't think it will.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some says the crops is ruined, and the corn's drownded out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And propha-sy the wheat will be a failure, without doubt;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the kind Providence that has never failed us yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will be on hand onc't more at the 'leventh hour, I bet!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Does the medder-lark complain, as he swims high and dry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the waves of the wind and the blue of the sky?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Does the quail set up and whissel in a disappointed way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Er hang his head in silence, and sorrow all the day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the chipmuck's health a-failin'?—Does he walk, er does he run?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Don't the buzzards ooze around up thare jest like they've allus done?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is they anything the matter with the rooster's lungs er voice?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ort a mortul be complainin' when dumb animals rejoice?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Then let us, one and all, be contented with our lot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The June is here this morning, and the sun is shining hot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! let us fill our harts up with the glory of the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And banish ev'ry doubt and care and sorrow fur away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever be our station, with Providence fer guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sich fine circumstances ort to make us satisfied;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fer the world is full of roses, and the roses full of dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the dew is full of heavenly love that drips fer me and you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">James Whitcomb Riley</span></div> + + +<h3>GRACE FOR GARDENS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Lord God in Paradise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look upon our sowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bless the little gardens<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the good green growing!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Give us sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give us rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bless the orchards<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the grain!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Lord God in Paradise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Please bless the beans and peas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give us corn full on the ear—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We will praise Thee, Lord, for these!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bless the blossom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the root,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bless the seed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the fruit!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Lord God in Paradise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Over my brown field is seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trembling and adventuring.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A miracle of green.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Send such grace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As you know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keep it safe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And make it grow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Lord God in Paradise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the wonder of the seed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wondering, we praise you, while<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We tell you of our need.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Look down from Paradise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look upon our sowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bless the little gardens<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the good green growing!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give us sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give us rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bless the orchards<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the grain!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Louise Driscoll</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> + +<h2>SILVER BELLS AND COCKLE SHELLS</h2> + + +<h3>PLANTING</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>The sky is blue and soft to-day,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The grass is green this month of May,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And Muvver with her spade and rake</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>My little garden helps me make;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>For every one must plant more seeds</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To grow the food that each one needs:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Potatoes, corn, green peas, and beets,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The kind of beans that sister eats,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>We plant in rows marked by a string,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>For neatness is the one great thing;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The earth is then raked smooth and pressed</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And Nature 'tends to all the rest.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Robert Livingston</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>SPRING PATCHWORK</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">If I could patch a coverlet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From pieces of the Spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What dreams a happy child would have<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath so fair a thing!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A center of the dear blue sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A bordering of green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With patches of the yellow sun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All chequered in between.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Bright ribbons of the silky grass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Laced prettily across,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With satin of new little leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And velvet of the moss.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">In every corner, violets,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Half-hidden from the view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many-flowered squares betwixt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of pinky tints and blue;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Of flossy silk and gossamer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of tissue and brocade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A warp of rosy morning mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A woof of purple shade.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Embroideries of little vines,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spider-webs of lace,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With tassels of the alder tied<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At each convenient place.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">With gold-thread I would sew the seams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And needles of the pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, never child in all the world<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would have a quilt like mine!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Abbie Farwell Brown</span></div> + + +<h3>BABY'S VALENTINE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Valentine, O Valentine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pretty little Love of mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little Love whose yellow hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes the daffodils despair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little Love whose shining eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fill the stars with sad surprise:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hither turn your ten wee toes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each a tiny shut-up rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">End most fitting and complete<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the rosy-pinky feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Toddle, toddle here to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I'm waiting, do you see?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waiting for to call you mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Valentine, O Valentine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Valentine, O Valentine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will dress you up so fine!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Here's a frock of tulip-leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trimmed with lace the spider weaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's a cap of larkspur blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just precisely made for you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's a mantle scarlet-dyed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once the tiger-lily's pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spotted all with velvet black<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the fire-beetle's back;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lady-slippers on your feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now behold you all complete!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come and let me call you mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Valentine, O Valentine!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Valentine, O Valentine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now a wreath for you I'll twine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will set you on a throne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the damask rose has blown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dropping all her velvet bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carpeting your leafy room:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here while you shall sit in pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Butterflies all rainbow-pied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dandy beetles gold and green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Creeping, flying, shall be seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every bird that shakes his wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every katydid that sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wasp and bee with buzz and hum.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hither, hither see them come,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Creeping all before your feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rendering their homage meet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But 'tis I that call you mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Valentine, O Valentine!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Laura E. Richards</span></div> + + +<h3>BABY SEED SONG</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are you awake in the dark?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here we lie cosily, close to each other:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hark to the song of the lark—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Waken!" the lark says, "waken and dress you;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Put on your green coats and gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blue sky will shine on you, sunshine caress you—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Waken! 'tis morning—'tis May!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What kind of flower will you be?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll be a poppy—all white, like my mother;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Do be a poppy like me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What! you're a sun-flower? How I shall miss you<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When you're grown golden and high!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I shall send all the bees up to kiss you;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Little brown brother, good-bye.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>RAIN IN THE NIGHT</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Raining, raining,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All night long;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes loud, sometimes soft,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Just like a song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There'll be rivers in the gutters<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lakes along the street.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It will make our lazy kitty<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wash his little dirty feet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The roses will wear diamonds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like kings and queens at court;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the pansies all get muddy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Because they are so short.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I'll sail my boat to-morrow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In wonderful new places,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But first I'll take my watering-pot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wash the pansies' faces.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Amelia Josephine Burr</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>A LITTLE GIRL'S SONGS</h3> + +<div class="center">I<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Spring Song</span></div> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I love daffodils.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love Narcissus when he bends his head.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can hardly keep March and spring and Sunday and daffodils<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of my rhyme of song.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you know anything about the spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When it comes again?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God knows about it while winter is lasting:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flowers bring him power in the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And birds bring it, and children.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is sometimes sad and alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up there in the sky trying to keep his worlds happy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bring him songs when he is in his sadness, and weary.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tell him how I used to wander out to study stars and the moon he made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flowers in the dark of the wood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I keep reminding him about his flowers he has forgotten,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that snowdrops are up.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What can I say to make him listen?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"God," I say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Don't you care!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nobody must be sad or sorry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the spring-time of flowers."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="center">II<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Velvets</span><br /> + +<i>By a Bed of Pansies</i></div> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">This pansy has a thinking face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the yellow moon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This one has a face with white blots:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I call him the clown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here goes one down the grass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a pretty look of plumpness:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She is a little girl going to school<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her hands in the pockets of her pinafore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her name is Sue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I like this one, in a bonnet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waiting—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eyes are so deep!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But these on the other side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These that wear purple and blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are the Velvets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The king with his cloak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The queen with her gown,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The prince with his feather.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These are dark and quiet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stay alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>I know you, Velvets</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Color of Dark,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Like the pine-tree on the hill</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>When stars shine!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Hilda Conkling</span><br /> +(<i>Six years old</i>)</div> + + +<h3>WHEN SWALLOWS BUILD</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">When apple-blossom time doth come<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And with their scent the air is filled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fields are full of buttercups,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis then the swallows build.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And when the rippling brooks are deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Filled to the overflowing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When o'er the hills and meadows fair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The south wind's softly blowing,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">With sun a-shining, birds a-singing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till their joyous throats are thrilled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with all the world in laughter,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis then the swallows build.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Catherine Parmenter</span><br /> +(<i>Eleven years old</i>)</div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>SPRING PLANTING</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">"What shall we plant for our Summer, my boy,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seeds of enchantment and seedlings of joy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brave little cuttings of laughter and light?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then shall our summer be flowery and bright."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">"Nay!—You are wrong in your planting," said he,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Have we not grass and the weeds and a tree?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why should we water and weary away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For sake of a flower that lives but a day!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">So she made gardens which he would not dig,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tended her apricot, apple and fig.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, when one morning he chanced to appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sadly he noticed—"No trespassing here."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Helen Hay Whitney</span></div> + + +<h3>IF I COULD DIG LIKE A RABBIT</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">If I could dig holes in the ground like a rabbit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">D'you know what I'd do?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well, I'd dig a deep hole—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Right under that tree—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I'd go down—and down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And find out where the tree starts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'd find out how it eats and drinks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what makes it grow....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yes I would!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +<span class="i0">P'r'aps I could dig a hole right up into that tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And—see—it—grow!...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But p'r'aps I couldn't.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Anyway I could dig 'way down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see all the flower seeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the grass seeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And under that big rock there might be some rock seeds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'd see everything start growing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Do all the seeds make noises<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they start to grow?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What do You s'pose about that?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I s'pose they sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Cause they're so glad to come up here and see the sunshine....<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Well, anyway I'd find out all about it, 'way down there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then I'd want to come up home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'd have so much to tell to You!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">If I could dig holes like a rabbit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's just what I would do.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Rose Strong Hubbell</span></div> + + +<h3>THE LITTLE GOD</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Mother says there's a little god<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Lives in my garden.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I asked her—"In the tree?"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I asked her—"In the fountain?"<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And she said, yes, that she,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plain as plain could be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Everywhere could see<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The little god.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"What's he look like, mother?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh," she said, "like the flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the summer showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the morning dew,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like you."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She says he's everywhere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my garden—I can't see him there.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Katharine Howard</span></div> + + +<h3>DAISIES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">At evening when I go to bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see the stars shine overhead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are the little daisies white<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That dot the meadow of the Night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And often while I'm dreaming so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the sky the Moon will go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is a lady, sweet and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who comes to gather daisies there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">For, when at morning I arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's not a star left in the skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's picked them all and dropped them down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the meadows of the town.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Frank Dempster Sherman</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE ANXIOUS FARMER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It was awful long ago<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I put those seeds around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I guess I ought to know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I stuck 'em in the ground.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Cause I noted down the day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a little diary book,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's gotten losted somewhere and<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I don't know where to look.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But I'm certain anyhow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They've been planted most a week<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it must be time by now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For their little sprouts to peek.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They've been watered every day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a very speshul care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And once or twice I've dug 'em up to<br /></span> +<span class="i4">see if they were there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I fixed the dirt in humps<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Just the way they said I should;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I crumbled all the lumps<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Just as finely as I could.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I found a nangle-worm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A-poking up his head,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He maybe feeds on seeds and such,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">and so I squushed him dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A seed's so very small,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dirt all looks the same;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How can they know at all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The way they ought to aim?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so I'm waiting round<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In case of any need;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A farmer ought to do his best for<br /></span> +<span class="i4">every single seed!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Burges Johnson</span></div> + + +<h3>OVER THE GARDEN WALL</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">By the side of a wall in a garden gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A little Rose-bush grew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the first dear days of the month of May,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Loved by the sun and dew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It gazed to the top of the wall so high<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With happy longing and pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When it heard the children laugh and cry<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As they passed on the other side.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And into its leaves and buds there came<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A beautiful thought of God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I can climb to the heights of love and fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If my roots are in the sod."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Then up and over the garden-wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It clambered far and wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shedding its sweetness for one and all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As they passed on the other side,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The weary laborer, the beggar cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wise man and the fool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mother and daughter, the grandam old<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the children going to school.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The breezes scattered its pink and white<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a perfumed shower for all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the beautiful days of June were bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the Rose on the Garden-wall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Our hearts are like the Roses of June,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They can live for one and all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Giving their love as a blessed boon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From a palace or cottage wall.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Emily Selinger</span></div> + + +<h3>THE FLOWERPHONE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">See the morning-glories hung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the vine for me to use:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark! A flower-bell has rung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I can talk now, if I choose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"Hellow Central! Oh, hello!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give me Puck of Fairyland—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mr. Puck, I want to know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What I cannot understand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">"How the leaves are scalloped out;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where's the den of Dragon Fly?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What do crickets chirp about?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where do flowers go when they die?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">"How far can a Fairy see?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why are woodsy things afraid?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who lives in the hollow tree?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How are cobweb carpets made?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">"Why do Fairies hide?—Hello!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What? I cannot understand—"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's the way they always do,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They've cut me off from Fairyland!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Abbie Farwell Brown</span></div> + + +<h3>THE FAITHLESS FLOWERS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I went this morning down to where the Johnny-Jump-Ups grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like naughty purple faces nodding in a row.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stayed 'most all the morning there—I sat down on a stump<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And watched and watched and watched them—and they never gave a jump!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And Golden-Glow that stands up tall and yellow by the fence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It doesn't glow a single bit—it's only just pretence—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ran down after tea last night to watch them in the dark—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had to light a match to see; they didn't give a spark!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And then the Bouncing Bets don't bounce—I tried them yesterday,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I picked a big pink bunch down in the meadow where they stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I took a piece of string I had and tied them in a ball,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And threw them down as hard as hard—they never bounced at all!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And tiger-lilies may look fierce, to meet them all alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All tall and black and yellowy and nodding by a stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they're no more like tigers than the dogwood's like a dog,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or bulrushes are like a bull or toadwort like a frog!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I like the flowers very much—they're pleasant as can be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For bunches on the table, and to pick and wear and see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still it doesn't seem quite fair—it does seem very queer—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They don't do what they're named for—not at any time of year!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Margaret Widdemer</span></div> + + +<h3>THE FLOWER-SCHOOL</h3> + +<p>When storm clouds rumble in the sky and June showers +come down,</p> + +<p>The moist east wind comes marching over the heath to blow +its bagpipes among the bamboos.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then crowds of flowers come out of a sudden, from nobody +knows where, and dance upon the grass in wild glee.</p> + +<p>Mother, I really think the flowers go to school underground.</p> + +<p>They do their lessons with doors shut, and if they want to +come out to play before it is time, their master makes them stand +in a corner.</p> + +<p>When the rains come down they have their holidays.</p> + +<p>Branches clash together in the forest, and the leaves rustle +in the wild wind, the thunder-clouds clap their giant hands and +the flower children rush out in dresses of pink and yellow and +white.</p> + +<p>Do you know, mother, their home is in the sky, where the +stars are.</p> + +<p>Haven't you seen how eager they are to get there? Don't +you know why they are in such a hurry?</p> + +<p>Of course, I can guess to whom they raise their arms: they +have their mother as I have my own.</p> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Rabindranath Tagore</span></div> + + +<h3>IRIS FLOWERS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">My mother let me go with her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(I had been good all day),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the iris flowers that bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In gardens far away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +<span class="i0">We walked and walked through hedges green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through rice-fields empty still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To where we saw a garden gate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath the farthest hill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">She pointed out the rows of "flowers";—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I saw no planted things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But white and purple butterflies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tied down with silken strings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">They strained and fluttered in the breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So eager to be free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I begged the man to let them go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But mother laughed at me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">She said that they could never rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like birds, to heaven so blue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But even mothers do not know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some things that children do.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">That night, the flowers untied themselves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And softly stole away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fly in sunshine round my dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Until the break of day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Mary McNeil Fenollosa</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>IF I WERE A FAIRY</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I'd love to sit on a clover-top<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swing and shake, till the dew would drop<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In spray;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To croon a song for the bumble-bee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To leave his golden honey with me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sway and swing, till the wind would stop<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To play.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I'd weave a hammock of spider-thread<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Loose-hung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where grasses nodded above my head<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And swung.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all day long, while the hammock swayed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'd twine and tangle the sun and shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the crickets' song, "It is time for bed!"<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Was sung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Then wrapped in a wee gold sunset cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I'd lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While night winds sang to the stars that crowd<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all night long, I would swing and sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While fireflies lighted their lamps to peep—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, hush!" they'd whisper, if frogs sang loud—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">"Oh hush-a-by!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Charles Buxton Going</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>FRINGED GENTIANS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Near where I live there is a lake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As blue as blue can be, winds make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It dance as they go blowing by.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think it curtseys to the sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It's just a lake of lovely flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my Mamma says they are ours;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they are not like those we grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be our very own, you know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">We have a splendid garden, there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are lots of flowers everywhere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roses, and pinks, and four o'clocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hollyhocks, and evening stocks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Mamma lets us pick them, but never<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must we pick any gentians—ever!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For if we carried them away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They'd die of homesickness that day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Amy Lowell</span></div> + + +<h3>THE SCISSORS-MAN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">As I was busy with my tools<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That make my garden neat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard a little crooked tune<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come drifting up the street.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +<span class="i0">It didn't seem to have an end<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like others that are plain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You always felt it going on<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till it began again.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It came quite near: I heard it call,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dropped my tools and ran<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To peer out through the gate;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I thought it might be Pan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But it was just the scissors-man<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who walked along and played<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon a little instrument<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He told me he had made.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Now, if you hope to see a god<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As hard to find as Pan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's sad when it turns out to be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A plain old scissors-man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But when my mother came to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The crooked tune he made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She said his instrument was like<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some pipes that Pan had played.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And I must ask the scissors-man<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If he had ever known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or met a queer old god who played<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On pipes much like his own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +<span class="i0">He would not tell: and when I asked<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who taught him how to play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He made that crooked tune again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And laughed and went away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Grace Hazard Conkling</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE GARDEN OF LIFE</h2> + + +<h3>GOD'S GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>The years are flowers and bloom within</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Eternity's wide garden;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The rose for joy, the thorn for sin,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>The gardener God, to pardon</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>All wilding growths, to prune, reclaim,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And make them rose-like in His name.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Richard Burton</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>"THE LORD GOD PLANTED A GARDEN"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The Lord God planted a garden<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the first white days of the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And He set there an angel warden<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a garment of light enfurled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">So near to the peace of Heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That the hawk might nest with the wren,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For there in the cool of the even<br /></span> +<span class="i2">God walked with the first of men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And I dream that these garden-closes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With their shade and their sun-flecked sod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their lilies and bowers of roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were laid by the hand of God.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The kiss of the sun for pardon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The song of the birds for mirth,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One is nearer God's heart in a garden<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than anywhere else on earth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Dorothy Frances Gurney</span></div> + + +<h3>THE LILIES</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Ever the garden has a spiritual word:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the slow lapses of unnoticed time<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It drops from heaven, or upward learns to climb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathing an earthly sweetness, as a bird<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is in the porches of the morning heard;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> +<span class="i2">So, in the garden, flower to flower will chime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And with the music thought and feeling rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hushed soul is with new glory stirred.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Beauty is silent,—through the summer day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sleeps in her gold,—O wondrous sunlit gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frosting the lilies, virginal array!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Green, full-leaved walls the fragrant sculpture hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warm, orient blooms!—how motionless are they—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Speechless—the eternal loveliness untold!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">George E. Woodberry</span></div> + + +<h3>BARTER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Life has loveliness to sell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All beautiful and splendid things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blue waves whitened on a cliff,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soaring fire that sways and sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And children's faces looking up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Holding wonder like a cup.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Life has loveliness to sell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Music like a curve of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scent of pine trees in the rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eyes that love you, arms that hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for your spirit's still delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Holy thoughts that star the night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Spend all you have for loveliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Buy it and never count the cost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For one white singing hour of peace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Count many a year of strife well lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for a breath of ecstasy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give all you have been, or could be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Sara Teasdale</span></div> + + +<h3>SONNET</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Drop me the seed, that I, even in my brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May be its nourishing earth. No mortal knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From what immortal granary comes the grain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor how the earth conspires to make the rose;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But from the dust and from the wetted mud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes help, given or taken; so with me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in my brain the essence of my blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall give it stature until Beauty be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It will look down, even as the burning flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiles upon June, long after I am gone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dust-footed Time will never tell its hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through dusty Time its rose will draw men on,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Through dusty Time its beauty shall make plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man, and, Without, a spirit scattering grain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">John Masefield</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE TILLING</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The dull ox, Sorrow, treads my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dragging the harrow, Pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And turning the old year's tillage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the sod again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So, well do I know the Tiller<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will bring once more the grain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For grief comes never to the strong—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor dull despair's benumbing wrong—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But from them spring a hidden throng<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of seeds, for new life fain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">So heavily do I let the hoofs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trample the deeps of me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For only thus is spirit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brought to fecundity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when the ox is stabled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the harrow set aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With calm I watch a new world grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweetly green, up out of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, glad of the Tiller, then I know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He too is satisfied.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Cale Young Rice</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>SAFE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Now shall your beauty never fade;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For it was budding when you passed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond this glare, into the shade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of fairer gardens unforecast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, by the dreaded Gardener's spade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beauty, transplanted once, shall ever last.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Now never shall that glorious breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wither, those deft hands lose their art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor those glad shoulders be oppressed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By failing breath or fluttering heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor, from the cheek by dawn possessed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The subtle ecstasy of hue depart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Forever shall you be your best,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nay, far more luminously shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than when our comradeship was blessed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By what on earth seemed most divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before your body passed to rest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With what I then supposed this heart of mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Now shall your bud of beauty blow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far lovelier than I knew before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, such a little time ago,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I looked upon your face, and swore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Helen's never moved men so<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When her white, magic hands enkindled war.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +<span class="i0">As you sweep on from power to power<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall every earthward thought you think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Irradiate my lonely hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till I shall taste the golden drink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Life, and see the full-blown flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose opening bud was mine, beyond the brink.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Robert Haven Schauffler</span></div> + + +<h3>SORROW IN A GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Here in this ancient garden<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Winter days had flown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I came, with Comrade Sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To dwell with her alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Here in this sweet seclusion<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far from the World's cold stare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What exquisite communings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sorrow and I would share!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">What banquets of remembrance!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What luxury of tears!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Sorrow in a garden<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the rose-scented years!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But one day when she called me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I did not hear her voice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I only heard the lilies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which sang "Rejoice, rejoice!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The world was gold and azure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The air was sweet with birds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My garden laughed with rapture<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How could I hear her words?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">For June was in the garden<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And June was in my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And since that hour pale Sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I have dwelt apart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But often in the twilight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When birds and gardens sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel her presence with me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her arms about me creep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And when the ghosts of Summer<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the dead roses talk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear her softly sobbing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Along the moonlit walk.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I never can forget her<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So intimate were we!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Sorrow, in my garden<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Abides no more with me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">May Riley Smith</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>MOTH-FLOWERS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The pale moth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trembles in the white moonlight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus my heart trembles with love!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The rose petals fall—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The red petals of my heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the breath of love!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Cool, sweet tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of honey, the jasmine weeps;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burning fall the tears of love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Oh, how bitter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the White Poppy, Death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are no more dreams of love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Jeanne Robert Foster</span></div> + + +<h3>ALCHEMY</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I lift my heart as spring lifts up<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A yellow daisy to the rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart will be a lovely cup<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Altho' it holds but pain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">For I shall learn from flower and leaf<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That color every drop they hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To change the lifeless wine of grief<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To living gold.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Sara Teasdale</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>FLOWERS IN THE DARK</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Late in the evening, when the room had grown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too hot and tiresome with its flaring light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And noisy voices, I stole out alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the darkness of the summer night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Down the long garden-walk I slowly went,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A little wind was stirring in the trees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I only saw the whitest of the flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I was sorry that the earlier hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that fair evening had been so ill spent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because I said, "I am content with these<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear friends of mine who only speak to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With their delicious fragrance, and who tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me their gracious welcome silently."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The leaves that touch my hand with dew are wet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I find the tall white lilies I love well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I linger as I pass the mignonette,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what surprise could clearer be than this:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To find my sweet rose waiting with a kiss!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Sarah Orne Jewett</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>WELCOME</h3> + +<div class="cpoem2"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There is a hillside garden that their tender hands have tended,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Below a house that holds for me a shrine of joy and light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there beneath a cloudless sun when June is warm and splendid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see them coming home to me, three girls in garments white.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Alice with lilies in her hands, and little dark Dolores<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Showing her glowing marigolds; and Iris last of all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the arbor by the wall of purple morning-glories,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bringing my crimson ramblers back that sought to scale the wall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Alice with smiles along her lips; Dolores still and tender;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Iris whose eyes can tell me more than tongue shall ever say;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They offer to my open arms their bodies soft and slender,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bringing the best of summer here, they garlanded to-day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Into my study they have swept, and brasses from Benares,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vases from Venice they have filled, and hung their wreaths around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The portrait where their mother smiles like the tall tranquil Maries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Perugino used to paint, with hair like sunlight crowned.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"Mother is coming home to-day." (The words themselves are singing.)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"How long it is," our litany, forgotten, they repeat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making their last response to love, their last oblation bringing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till at the hour of evensong, their voices still more sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tremble and sanctify the house where happy hearts shall meet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">John Curtis Underwood</span></div> + + +<h3>THE CHILD IN THE GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">When to the garden of untroubled thought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I came of late, and saw the open door,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wished again to enter, and explore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet, wild ways with stainless bloom inwrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bowers of innocence with beauty fraught,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It seemed some purer voice must speak before<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I dared to tread that garden loved of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Eden lost unknown and found unsought.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Then just within the gate I saw a child,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A stranger-child, yet to my heart most dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He held his hands to me, and softly smiled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With eyes that knew no shade of sin or fear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Come in," he said, "and play awhile with me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am the little child you used to be."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Henry van Dyke</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>A WONDER GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">"And a little child shall lead them"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into her world, beneath her smiling skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A little child with wide, wondering eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deep with the mystery that in them lies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her soft hand plucks a stem asunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And with the dream that is a part<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of Childhood's heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She questions:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">"Now I want to wonder!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">She "wants to wonder" how so fair a thing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is born; from what it springs, and why it blooms:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence comes its sweet, elusive odor rare,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The garnered fragrance of a hundred Junes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was it all planned,—or just some lovely blunder?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus gazing, with the seeking look that lies<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In Childhood's eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She questions:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">"Now I want to wonder!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Dear Child, your groping mind seeks far and true:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mankind and Nature,—all "want to wonder" too.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Frederic A. Whiting</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>FROM A CAR-WINDOW</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Pines, and a blur of lithe young grasses;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gold in a pool, from the western glow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spread of wings where the last thrush passes—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thoughts of you as the sun dips low.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Quiet lane, and an irised meadow ...<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(<i>How many summers have died since then?</i>) ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish you knew how the deepening shadow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lies on the blue and green again!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Dusk, and the curve of field and hollow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Etched in gray when a star appears:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunset,... twilight,... and dark to follow,...<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thoughts of you thro' a mist of tears.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Ruth Guthrie Harding</span></div> + + +<h3>SONG OF THE WEARY TRAVELLER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I am weary. I would rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the wide earth's swelling breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nurtured by the quiet sod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the fragrant dew has trod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soothed by all the winds that pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearing voices in the grass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the little insect things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Happier than the mightiest kings!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I am weary. I would sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In some quiet perfumed deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where no human touch could bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tears to me or anything.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There I would forget to weep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my silent cloister keep,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There I would the earth embrace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meeting Beauty face to face.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I am weary. I would go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the fields are white with snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the violets are lain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far from human strife and pain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far from longing and delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thro' the endless starry night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There I would forget to weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my silent cloister keep.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Blanche Shoemaker Wagstaff</span></div> + + +<h3>COBWEBS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Who would not praise thee, miracle of Frost?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some gesture overnight, some breath benign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lo! the tree's a fountain all a-shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hedge a throne of unimagined cost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wheel and fan along a wall embossed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spider's humble handiwork shows fine<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +<span class="i0">With jewels girdling every airy line;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the small mason in the cold be lost.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Web after web, a morning snare of bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Starring with beauty the whole neighbourhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May well beget an envy clean and good.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When man goes too into the earth-abyss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And God in His altered garden walks, I would<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My secret woof might gleam so fair as this.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Louise Imogen Guiney</span></div> + + +<h3>BLIND</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The Spring blew trumpets of color;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her Green sang in my brain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard a blind man groping<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Tap—tap" with his cane;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I pitied him his blindness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But can I boast, "I see?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps there walks a spirit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close by, who pities me,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A spirit who hears me tapping<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The five-sensed cane of mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid such unguessed glories—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I—am worse than blind!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Harry Kemp</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>HERB OF GRACE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I do not know what sings in me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I only know it sings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When pale the stars, and every tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is glad with waking wings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I only know the air is sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wondrous flowers unseen—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That unaccountably complete<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is June's accustomed green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The wind has magic in its touch;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strange dreams the sunsets give.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life I have questioned overmuch—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-day, I live.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Amelia Josephine Burr</span></div> + + +<h3>BEFORE MARY OF MAGDALA CAME</h3> + +<blockquote><p>Now in the place where he was crucified there was a garden; and in the garden +a new sepulchre.... The first day of the week cometh Mary Magdalene early +... unto the sepulchre.... And ... she turned herself back, and saw Jesus +standing.... Jesus saith unto her, Mary. She turned herself, and saith unto +him ... Master. St. John.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">From silvering mid-sea to the Syrian sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was the time of blossom in the land.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On field and hill and down the steep ravine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ran foam and fire of bloom and ripple of green.<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The Sepulchre was open wide, and thrown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the crushed, hurt lilies lay the Stone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A light wind stirred the Garden: everywhere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The smell of myrrh was out upon the air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For three days He had traveled with the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now was risen to go with stiller tread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old earth ways again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stay the heart and build the hope of men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He made a luster in that leafy place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His form serene, majestical; His face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Touched with a cryptic beauty like the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lit by the moon when night begins to be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The cold gray east was warming into rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the steep ravine where Kedron goes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now suddenly on the morning faint with flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jerusalem with all her clamors came—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A snarl of noises from the far-off street,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dispute and barter and the clack of feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A moment it brawled upward and was gone—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faded, forgotten in the deep still dawn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He passed across the morning: felt the cool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keen, kindling air blown upward from the pool.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A busy wind brought little tender smells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From barley fields and weeds by April wells.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up in the tree-tops where the breezes ran<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old sweet noises in the nests began;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And once He paused to listen while a bird<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shouted the joy till all the Garden heard.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">There in the morning, on the old worn ways—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New-risen from the sacrament of death—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He looked toward Olivet with tender gaze:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old things of the heart came back from other days—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The happy, homely shop in Nazareth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The noonday shadow of a wayside tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That had befriended Him in Galilee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet talks in Bethany by the chimney stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And night-long lingering talks with John alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then He thought of all the weary men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He would have gathered as a mother hen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gathers her brood under her wings at night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then He saw the ages in one flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heard as a great sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All of the griefs that had been and must be....<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">As He stood looking on the endless sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the Garden went a sobbing cry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He turned, and saw where the tall almonds are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His Mary of Magdala, wildly pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fast-fleeting down the trail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And suddenly His face was like a star!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He spoke; she knew—a blaze of happy tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then "Master!" ... and the word rings down the years!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Edwin Markham</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>CONSCIENCE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Wisdom am I<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When thou art but a fool;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My part the man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When thou hast played the clod;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast lost thy garden?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the eve is cool,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harken!—'tis I who walk<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There with thy God!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Margaret Steele Anderson</span></div> + + +<h3>ROSA MYSTICA</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">This rose so exquisite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So perfect, so complete,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty beyond all price,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the hour it dies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">God makes Him roses fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With such magnificent haste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Multitudes, multitudes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In gardens, fields and woods.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The roses tell His praise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their little length of days;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Testify to His name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gold on gold, flame on flame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> +<span class="i0">They are scarce here, scarce blown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they are gone, are flown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gardener's broom must sweep them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the darkness heap them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Drift of rose-leaves upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The garden-bed, the lawn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The exquisite thought of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is scattered, wasted abroad.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">What of the soul of the rose?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shall not die with those;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It shall wake, shall live again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In God's rose-garden.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">It shall climb rose-trellises<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before God's palaces;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Eternal Rose shall cover<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The House of God all over.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">She shall breathe out her soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet living, made whole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall offer her oblation<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of her purest passion.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">She shall know all bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where God's garden is:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose drinking her fill is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of joy with her sister lilies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Where the Water of Life sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bathes her from head to feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The River of Life flows—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is the Rose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Katharine Tynan</span></div> + + +<h3>THE MYSTERY</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">He came and took me by the hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Up to a red rose tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He kept His meaning to Himself<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But gave a rose to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I did not pray Him to lay bare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mystery to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enough the rose was Heaven to smell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And His own face to see.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Ralph Hodgson</span></div> + + +<h3>THE ROSE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">And so must life be many-veined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The loves that hurt, the fate that blent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My life with myriad lives and ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The processes that probed and pained,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pencillings of nights and days—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cross currents, tangling as they went,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With oh, such conflict in my soul!—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +<span class="i0">How should I know that they were meant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just to make living sweet and whole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just to unclose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God's perfect rose?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Angela Morgan</span></div> + + +<h3>FOR THESE</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">An acre of land between the shore and the hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon a ledge that shows my Kingdoms three,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lovely visible earth and sky and sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where what the curlew needs not, the farmer tills:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A house that shall love me as I love it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well-hedged, and honoured by a few ash trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That linnets, greenfinches, and goldfinches<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall often visit and make love in and flit;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">A garden I need never go beyond,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broken but neat, whose sunflowers every one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are fit to be the sign of the Rising Sun:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spring, a brook's bend, or at least a pond!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">For these I ask not, but neither too late<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor yet too early, for what men call content,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And also that something may be sent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be contented with, I ask of fate.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Edward Thomas</span> (<span class="smcap">Edward Eastaway</span>)</div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>SAMUEL GARDNER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I who kept the greenhouse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lover of trees and flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft in life saw this umbrageous elm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Measuring its generous branches with my eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And listened to its rejoicing leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lovingly patting each other<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sweet æolian whispers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And well they might:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the roots had grown so wide and deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the soil of the hill could not withhold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aught of its virtue, enriched by rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And warmed by the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But yielded it all to the thrifty roots,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through which it was drawn and whirled to the trunk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thence to the branches, and into the leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefrom the breeze took life and sang.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now I, an under-tenant of the earth, can see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the branches of a tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spread no wider than its roots.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how shall the soul of a man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be larger than the life he has lived?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Edgar Lee Masters</span></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>SEEDS</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">What shall we be like when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We cast this earthly body and attain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To immortality?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What shall we be like then?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah, who shall say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What vast expansions shall be ours that day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What transformations of this house of clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fit the heavenly mansions and the light of day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, who shall say?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">But this we know,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We drop a seed into the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tiny, shapeless thing, shrivelled and dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, in the fulness of its time, is seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A form of peerless beauty, robed and crowned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the pride of any earthly queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instinct with loveliness, and sweet and rare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The perfect emblem of its Maker's care.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">This from a shrivelled seed?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Then may man hope indeed!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">For man is but the seed of what he shall be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, in the fulness of his perfecting,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> +<span class="i0">He drops the husk and cleaves his upward way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through earth's retardings and the clinging clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the sunshine of God's perfect day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No fetters then! No bonds of time or space!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But powers as ample as the boundless grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That suffered man, and death, and yet, in tenderness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set wide the door, and passed Himself before—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As He had promised—to prepare a place.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Yea, we may hope!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For we are seeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dropped into earth for heavenly blossoming.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perchance, when comes the time of harvesting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His loving care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May find some use for even a humble tare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">We know not what we shall be—only this—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we shall be made like Him—as He is.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">John Oxenham</span></div> + + +<h3>"LORD, I ASK A GARDEN"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Lord, I ask a garden in a quiet spot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">where there may be a brook with a good flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">an humble little house covered with bell-flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and a wife and a son who shall resemble Thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I should wish to live many years, free from hates,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and make my verses, as the rivers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">that moisten the earth, fresh and pure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord, give me a path with trees and birds.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I wish that you would never take my mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">for I should wish to tend her as a child<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and put her to sleep with kisses, when somewhat old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">she may need the sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">R. Arevalo Martinez</span></div> + + +<h3>MY FLOWER-ROOM</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">My flower-room is such a little place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce twenty feet by nine, yet in that space<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have met God; yea, many a radiant hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have talked with Him, the All-Embracing Cause,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About His laws.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he has shown me, in each vine and flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such miracles of power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That day by day this flower-room of mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has come to be a shrine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Fed by the self-same soil and atmosphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale, tender shoots appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rising to greet the light in that sweet room.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One speeds to crimson bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One slowly creeps to unassuming grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One climbs, one trails,<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> +<span class="i0">One drinks the light and moisture,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One exhales.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up through the earth together, stem by stem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two plants push swiftly in a floral race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till one sends forth a blossom like a gem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one gives only fragrance.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a seed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So small it scarce is felt within the hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie hidden such delights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of scents and sights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When by the elements of Nature freed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As paradise must have at its command.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">From shapeless roots and ugly bulbous things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What gorgeous beauty springs!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such infinite variety appears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hundred artists in a hundred years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could never copy from a floral world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The marvels that in leaf and bud lie curled.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor could the most colossal mind of man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Create one little seed of plant or vine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without assistance from the First Great Plan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without the aid divine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Who but a God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could draw from light and moisture, heat and cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fashion in earth's mold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A multitude of blooms to deck one sod?<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Who but a God?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not one man knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just why the bloom and fragrance of the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or how its tints were blent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or why the white camellia, without scent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up through the same soil grows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or how the daisy and the violet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blades of grass first on wild meadows met.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not one, not one man knows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wisest but suppose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This flower-room of mine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has come to be a shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I go hence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each day with larger faith and reverence.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Ella Wheeler Wilcox</span></div> + + +<h3>"VESTURED AND VEILED WITH TWILIGHT"</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Vestured and veiled with twilight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lulled in the winter's ease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dim, and happy, and silent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My garden dreams by its trees.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Urn of the sprayless fountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glimmering nymph and faun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gleam through the dark-plumed cedar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fade on the dusky lawn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Here is no stir of summer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here is no pulse of spring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never a bud to burgeon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Never a bird to sing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Dreams—and the kingdom of quiet!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Only the dead leaves lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the fallen roses<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Under the shrouded sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Folded and fenced with silence<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mindless of moil and mart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is twilight here in my garden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And twilight here in my heart.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Rosamund Marriott Watson</span></div> + + +<h3>THE FRUIT GARDEN PATH</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">The path runs straight between the flowering rows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A moonlit path hemmed in by beds of bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where phlox and marigolds dispute for room<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tall, red dahlias and the briar rose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis reckless prodigality which throws<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into the night these wafts of rich perfume<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which sweep across the garden like a plume.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the trees a single bright star glows.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear garden of my childhood, here my years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have run away like little grains of sand;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The moments of my life, its hopes and fears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have all found utterance here, where now I stand;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My eyes ache with the weight of unshed tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You are my home, do you not understand?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Amy Lowell</span></div> + + +<h3>WOOD SONG</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">I heard a woodthrush in the dusk<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Twirl three notes and make a star—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart that walked with bitterness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Came back from very far.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Three shining notes were all he had,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet they made a starry call—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I caught life back against my breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And kissed it, scars and all.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Sara Teasdale</span></div> + + +<h3>A PRAYER</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Teach me, Father, how to go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Softly as the grasses grow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hush my soul to meet the shock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the wild world as a rock;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my spirit, propt with power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make as simple as a flower.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the dry heart fill its cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a poppy looking up;<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Let life lightly wear her crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a poppy looking down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When its heart is filled with dew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its life begins anew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Teach me, Father, how to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kind and patient as a tree.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joyfully the crickets croon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under shady oak at noon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beetle, on his mission bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tarries in that cooling tent.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me, also, cheer a spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hidden field or garden grot—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Place where passing souls can rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the way and be their best.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Edwin Markham</span></div> + + +<h3>THE PHILOSOPHER'S GARDEN</h3> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i2">"<i>See this my garden,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Large and fair!</i>"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Thus, to his friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Philosopher.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">"<i>'Tis not too long</i>,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His friend replied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With truth exact,—<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +<span class="i2">"<i>Nor yet too wide.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>But well compact,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>If somewhat cramped</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>On every side.</i>"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><br /> +<span class="i0">Quick the reply—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"<i>But see how high!—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>It reaches up</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>To God's blue sky!</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">John Oxenham</span></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>INDEX OF TITLES</h2> + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Ære Perennius, <i>Charles Hanson Towne</i>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.</li> +<li>Afternoon on a Hill, <i>Edna St. Vincent Millay</i>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> +<li>Alchemy, <i>Sara Teasdale</i>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>.</li> +<li>Amiel's Garden, <i>Gertrude Huntington McGiffert</i>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>.</li> +<li>Anxious Farmer, The, <i>Burges Johnson</i>, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>.</li> +<li>April Morning, An, <i>Bliss Carman</i>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.</li> +<li>April Rain, <i>Conrad Aiken</i>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</li> +<li>April Weather, <i>Lizette Woodworth Reese</i>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li> +<li>Arbutus, <i>Adelaide Crapsey</i>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.</li> +<li>As in a Rose-Jar, <i>Thomas S. Jones, Jr.</i>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li> +<li>Asking for Roses, <i>Robert Frost</i>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.</li> +<li>At Isola Bella, <i>Jessie B. Rittenhouse</i>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>.</li> +<li>Autumn Rose, The, <i>Antoinette De Coursey Patterson</i>, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</li> +<li>Autumnal, <i>Richard Middleton</i>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>.</li> +<li>Awakening, The, <i>Angela Morgan</i>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Baby Seed Song, <i>E. Nesbit</i>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li> +<li>Baby's Valentine, <i>Laura E. Richards</i>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>.</li> +<li>Ballade of the Dreamland Rose, <i>Brian Hooker</i>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</li> +<li>Barter, <i>Sara Teasdale</i>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>.</li> +<li>Before Mary of Magdala came, <i>Edwin Markham</i>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li> +<li>Beyond, <i>Thomas S. Jones, Jr.</i>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</li> +<li>Birth of the Flowers, The, <i>Mary McNeil Fenollosa</i>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.</li> +<li>Blind, <i>Harry Kemp</i>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>.</li> +<li>Blooming of the Rose, The, <i>Anna Hempstead Branch</i>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</li> +<li>Blossomy Barrow, The, <i>T. A. Daly</i>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>.</li> +<li>Boulders, <i>Charles Wharton Stork</i>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.</li> +<li>Breath of Mint, A, <i>Grace Hazard Conkling</i>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>.</li> +<li>But we did walk in Eden, <i>Josephine Preston Peabody</i>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>.</li> +<li>Butterfly, The, <i>Edwin Markham</i>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Cactus, The, <i>Laurence Hope</i>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li> +<li>Cardinal-Bird, The, <i>Arthur Guiterman</i>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> +<li>Champa Flower, The, <i>Rabindranath Tagore</i>, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>.</li> +<li>Charm: To be said in the Sun, <i>Josephine Preston Peabody</i>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>.</li> +<li>Child in the Garden, The, <i>Henry van Dyke</i>, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>.</li> +<li>Choice, The, <i>Katharine Tynan</i>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.</li> +<li>Cloister Garden at Certosa, The, <i>Richard Burton</i>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>.</li> +<li>Cloud and Flower, <i>Agnes Lee</i>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> +<li>Clover, <i>John B. Tabb</i>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li> +<li>Cobwebs, <i>Louise Imogen Guiney</i>, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></li> +<li>Colonial Garden, A, <i>James B. Kenyan</i>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> +<li>Color Notes, <i>Charles Wharton Stork</i>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>.</li> +<li>Columbines, <i>Arthur Guiterman</i>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>.</li> +<li>Como in April, <i>Robert Underwood Johnson</i>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>.</li> +<li>Conscience, <i>Margaret Steele Anderson</i>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>.</li> +<li>Cricket in the Path, The, <i>Amelia Josephine Burr</i>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li> +<li>Crocus Flame, The, <i>Clinton Scollard</i>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Da Thief, <i>T. A. Daly</i>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li> +<li>Daffodils, <i>Ruth Guthrie Harding</i>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</li> +<li>Daisies, <i>Frank Dempster Sherman</i>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>.</li> +<li>Daisy, To a, <i>Alice Meynell</i>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li> +<li>Dandelion, The, <i>Vachel Lindsay</i>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</li> +<li>Dawn in my Garden, <i>Marguerite Wilkinson</i>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> +<li>Deserted Garden, The, <i>Pai Ta-Shun</i>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</li> +<li>Dews, The, <i>John B. Tabb</i>, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>.</li> +<li>Dials, The, <i>Arthur Wallace Peach</i>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>.</li> +<li>"Draw closer, O ye trees," <i>Lloyd Mifflin</i>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.</li> +<li>Dream, A, <i>Antoinette De Coursey Patterson</i>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li> +<li>Dusty Hour-Glass, The, <i>Amy Lowell</i>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Early Gods, The, <i>Witter Bynner</i>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li> +<li>Earth, <i>John Hall Wheelock</i>, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>.</li> +<li>Eden-Hunger, <i>William Watson</i>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>.</li> +<li>Egyptian Garden, In an, <i>Clinton Scollard</i>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li> +<li>End of Summer, The, <i>Edna St. Vincent Millay</i>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>.</li> +<li>Evening in Old Japan, <i>Antoinette De Coursey Patterson</i>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</li> +<li>Ever the Same, <i>Josephine Preston Peabody</i>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</li> +<li>Exile's Garden, An, <i>Sophie Jewett</i>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Faithless Flowers, The, <i>Margaret Widdemer</i>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li> +<li>Family Trees, <i>Douglas Malloch</i>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>.</li> +<li>Fireflies, <i>Antoinette De Coursey Patterson</i>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>.</li> +<li>Flower-School, The, <i>Rabindranath Tagore</i>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>.</li> +<li>Flowerphone, The, <i>Abbie Farwell Brown</i>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>.</li> +<li>Flowers in the Dark, <i>Sarah Orne Jewett</i>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>.</li> +<li>Flowers of June, The, <i>James Terry White</i>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</li> +<li>For These, <i>Edward Thomas</i>, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li> +<li>Fountain, The, <i>Harry Kemp</i>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.</li> +<li>Fountain, The, <i>Sara Teasdale</i>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>.</li> +<li>Four O'Clocks, <i>Julia C. R. Dorr</i>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li> +<li>Fringed Gentians, <i>Amy Lowell</i>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>.</li> +<li>From a Car-Window, <i>Ruth Guthrie Harding</i>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>.</li> +<li>"Frost to-night," <i>Edith M. Thomas</i>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.</li> +<li>Fruit Garden Path, The, <i>Amy Lowell</i>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</li> +<li>Furrow, The, <i>Padraic Colum</i>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Garden, The, <i>Gertrude Huntington McGiffert</i>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li> +<li>Garden, The, <i>Alice Meynell</i>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></li> +<li>Garden at Bemerton, The, <i>Lizette Woodworth Reese</i>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>.</li> +<li>Garden Friend, A, <i>Catherine Markham</i>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</li> +<li>Garden in August, The, <i>Gertrude Huntington McGiffert</i>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li> +<li>Garden in Venice, A, <i>Dorothy Frances Gurney</i>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>.</li> +<li>Garden of Dreams, The, <i>Bliss Carman</i>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</li> +<li>Garden of Mnemosyne, The, <i>Rosamund Marriott Watson</i>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</li> +<li>Garden-Piece, A, <i>Edmund Gosse</i>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</li> +<li>Garden Prayer, A, <i>Thomas Walsh</i>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li> +<li>"Go down to Kew in lilac-time," <i>Alfred Noyes</i>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.</li> +<li>God's Garden, <i>Richard Burton</i>, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>.</li> +<li>Golden Bowl, The, <i>Mary McMillan</i>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>.</li> +<li>Golden-Rod, The, <i>Margaret Deland</i>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</li> +<li>Goldfinch, The, <i>Odell Shepard</i>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>.</li> +<li>Grace for Gardens, <i>Louise Driscoll</i>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li> +<li>"Grandmother's gathering boneset," <i>Edith M. Thomas</i>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li> +<li>Green o' the Spring, The, <i>Denis A. McCarthy</i>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Haunted Garden, A, <i>Louis Untermeyer</i>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li> +<li>Heart's Garden, <i>Norreys Jephson O'Conor</i>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>.</li> +<li>Her Garden, <i>Eldredge Denison</i>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li> +<li>Her Garden, <i>Louis Dodge</i>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.</li> +<li>Herb of Grace, <i>Amelia Josephine Burr</i>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li> +<li>Homesick, <i>Julia C. R. Dorr</i>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.</li> +<li>"How many flowers are gently met," <i>George Sterling</i>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li> +<li>Hummingbird, The, <i>Hermann Hagedorn</i>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>"I meant to do my work to-day," <i>Richard Le Gallienne</i>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>.</li> +<li>Idealists, <i>Alfred Kreymborg</i>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li> +<li>If I could dig like a Rabbit, <i>Rose Strong Hubbell</i>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.</li> +<li>If I were a Fairy, <i>Charles Buxton Going</i>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>.</li> +<li>In a Garden, <i>Livingston L. Biddle</i>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>.</li> +<li>In a Garden, <i>Horace Holley</i>, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>.</li> +<li>In a Garden of Granada, <i>Thomas Walsh</i>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>.</li> +<li>In an Egyptian Garden, <i>Clinton Scollard</i>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li> +<li>In an Old Garden, <i>Madison Cawein</i>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</li> +<li>In an Oxford Garden, <i>Arthur Upson</i>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</li> +<li>In Memory's Garden, <i>Thomas Walsh</i>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</li> +<li>In my Mother's Garden, <i>Margaret Widdemer</i>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</li> +<li>In the Garden, <i>Pai Ta-Shun</i>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</li> +<li>In the Garden-Close at Mezra, <i>Clinton Scollard</i>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li> +<li>In the Womb, <i>A. E.</i>, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>.</li> +<li>Indian Summer, <i>Sara Teasdale</i>, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>.</li> +<li>Iris Flowers, <i>Mary McNeil Fenollosa</i>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>.</li> +<li>"It was June in the garden," <i>Emile Verhaeren</i>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Jewel-Weed, <i>Florence Earle Coates</i>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.</li> +<li>Joe-Pyeweed, <i>Louis Untermeyer</i>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></li> +<li>Joy of the Springtime, The, <i>Sarojini Naidu</i>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> +<li>Joys of a Summer Morning, The, <i>Henry A. Wise Wood</i>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li> +<li>July Garden, The, <i>Robert Ernest Vernède</i>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.</li> +<li>July Midnight, <i>Amy Lowell</i>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>.</li> +<li>June, <i>Douglas Malloch</i>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</li> +<li>June Rapture, <i>Angela Morgan</i>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Kinfolk, <i>Kate Whiting Patch</i>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Lady of the Snows, A, <i>Harriet Monroe</i>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li> +<li>Larkspur, <i>James Oppenheim</i>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</li> +<li>Late Walk, A, <i>Robert Frost</i>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>.</li> +<li>Lavender, <i>W. W. Blair Fish</i>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>.</li> +<li>Lilies, The, <i>George E. Woodberry</i>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>.</li> +<li>Little Ghost, The, <i>Edna St. Vincent Millay</i>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li> +<li>Little Girl's Songs, A, <i>Hilda Conkling</i>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>.</li> +<li>Little God, The, <i>Katharine Howard</i>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.</li> +<li>"Lord, I ask a Garden," <i>R. Arevalo Martinez</i>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>.</li> +<li>Love planted a Rose, <i>Katharine Lee Bates</i>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</li> +<li>"Loveliest of trees," <i>A. E. Housman</i>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Magnolia, The, <i>José Santos Chocano</i>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> +<li>May is building her House, <i>Richard Le Gallienne</i>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>.</li> +<li>Message, The, <i>Helen Hay Whitney</i>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.</li> +<li>Message, The, <i>George Edward Woodberry</i>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li> +<li>Messenger, The, <i>James Stephens</i>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li> +<li>"Mid-summer blooms within our quiet garden-ways," <i>Emile Verhaeren</i>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>.</li> +<li>Midsummer Garden, A, <i>Clinton Scollard</i>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</li> +<li>Miracle, <i>L. H. Bailey</i>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>.</li> +<li>Mocking-Bird, A, <i>Witter Bynner</i>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li> +<li>Mocking-Bird, The, <i>Frank L. Stanton</i>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>.</li> +<li>Morning-Glory, The, <i>Florence Earle Coates</i>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>.</li> +<li>Moth-Flowers, <i>Jeanne Robert Foster</i>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>.</li> +<li>My Flower-Room, <i>Ella Wheeler Wilcox</i>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>.</li> +<li>"My soul is like a garden-close," <i>Thomas S. Jones, Jr.</i>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.</li> +<li>Mystery, <i>Ralph Hodgson</i>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>New Sundial, To a, <i>Violet Fane</i>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>.</li> +<li>Night-Moth, The, <i>Marion Couthouy Smith</i>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> +<li>Nightingales, <i>Grace Hazard Conkling</i>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>.</li> +<li>November Night, <i>Adeline Crapsey</i>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>"Oh, tell me how my garden grows," <i>Mildred Howells</i>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li> +<li>Old Brocade, The, <i>M. G. Brereton</i>, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li> +<li>Old Gardens, <i>Arthur Upson</i>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</li> +<li>Old Homes, <i>Madison Cawein</i>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</li> +<li>Old Mothers, <i>Charles Ross</i>, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> +<li>Old-fashioned Garden, The, <i>John Russell Hayes</i>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.</li> +<li>Order, <i>Paul Scott Mowrer</i>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> +<li>Over the Garden Wall, <i>Emily Selinger</i>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</li> +<li>Oxford Garden, In an, <i>Arthur Upson</i>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Pasture, The, <i>Robert Frost</i>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> +<li>Path that leads to Nowhere, The, <i>Corinne Roosevelt Robinson</i>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.</li> +<li>Philosopher's Garden, The, <i>John Oxenham</i>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>.</li> +<li>Planting, <i>Robert Livingston</i>, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>.</li> +<li>Poplars, The, <i>Theodosia Garrison</i>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>.</li> +<li>Poppies, <i>John Russell Hayes</i>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>.</li> +<li>Prayer, <i>John Hall Wheelock</i>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>.</li> +<li>Prayer, A, <i>Edwin Markham</i>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>.</li> +<li>Primavera, <i>George Cabot Lodge</i>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</li> +<li>Progress, <i>Charlotte Becker</i>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>.</li> +<li>Proud Vegetables, The, <i>Mary McNeil Fenollosa</i>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> +<li>Puritan Lady's Garden, A, <i>Sarah N. Cleghorn</i>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.</li> +<li>Putting in the Seed, <i>Robert Frost</i>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Rain, The, <i>William H. Davies</i>, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>.</li> +<li>Rain in the Night, <i>Amelia Josephine Burr</i>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>.</li> +<li>Reflections, <i>Amy Lowell</i>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>.</li> +<li>Rest at Noon, <i>Hermann Hagedorn</i>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li> +<li>Results and Roses, <i>Edgar A. Guest</i>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li> +<li>Road to the Pool, The, <i>Grace Hazard Conkling</i>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li> +<li>Roman Garden, A, <i>Florence Wilkinson Evans</i>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</li> +<li>Rosa Mystica, <i>Katharine Tynan</i>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>.</li> +<li>Rose, The, <i>Grace Hazard Conkling</i>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>.</li> +<li>Rose, The, <i>Angela Morgan</i>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li> +<li>Rose-Geranium, <i>Clement Wood</i>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>.</li> +<li>Rose Lover, A, <i>Frederic A. Whiting</i>, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>.</li> +<li>Roses, <i>Wilfrid Wilson Gibson</i>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.</li> +<li>Roses in the Subway, <i>Dana Burnet</i>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Safe, <i>Robert Haven Schauffler</i>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.</li> +<li>Samuel Gardner, <i>Edgar Lee Masters</i>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</li> +<li>Scissors-Man, The, <i>Grace Hazard Conkling</i>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>.</li> +<li>Secret, The, <i>Arthur Wallace Peach</i>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> +<li>Seeds, <i>John Oxenham</i>, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>.</li> +<li>Selection from "Under the Trees," <i>Anna Hempstead Branch</i>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.</li> +<li>Seller of Herbs, A, <i>Lizette Woodworth Reese</i>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>.</li> +<li>Serenade, <i>Marjorie L. C. Pickthall</i>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>.</li> +<li>Shade, <i>Theodosia Garrison</i>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>.</li> +<li>Shower, A, <i>Rowland Thirlmere</i>, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>.</li> +<li>Snow-Gardens, The, <i>Zoë Akins</i>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>.</li> +<li>Soft Day, A, <i>W. M. Letts</i>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li> +<li>Song for Winter, A, <i>Mrs. Schuyler Van Rensselaer</i>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>.</li> +<li>Song from "April," <i>Irene Rutherford McLeod</i>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</li> +<li>Song in a Garden, A, <i>Theodosia Garrison</i>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>.</li> +<li>Song of Fairies, A, <i>Elizabeth Kirby</i>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>.</li> +<li>Song of the Weary Traveller, <i>Blanche Shoemaker Wagstaff</i>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>.</li> +<li>Song of Wandering Aengus, The, <i>W. B. Yeats</i>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li> +<li>Song to Belinda, A, <i>Theodosia Garrison</i>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>.</li> +<li>Sonnet: "Drop me the seed, that I, even in my brain," <i>John Masefield</i>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></li> +<li>Sonnet: "It may be so; but let the unknown be," <i>John Masefield</i>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.</li> +<li>Sonnet: "The sweet caresses that I gave to you," <i>Elsa Barker</i>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>.</li> +<li>Sorrow in a Garden, <i>May Riley Smith</i>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>.</li> +<li>South Wind, <i>Siegfried Sassoon</i>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> +<li>Spirit of the Birch, The, <i>Arthur Ketchum</i>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>.</li> +<li>Spring, <i>John Gould Fletcher</i>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> +<li>Spring, <i>Francis Ledwidge</i>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>.</li> +<li>Spring Beauties, The, <i>Helen Gray Cone</i>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li> +<li>Spring Patchwork, <i>Abbie Farwell Brown</i>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>.</li> +<li>Spring Planting, <i>Helen Hay Whitney</i>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.</li> +<li>Spring Song, <i>Hilda Conkling</i>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>.</li> +<li>Spring Song, <i>William Griffith</i>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>.</li> +<li>Stairways and Gardens, <i>Ella Wheeler Wilcox</i>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>.</li> +<li>Sun, Cardinal, and Corn Flowers, <i>Hannah Parker Kimball</i>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</li> +<li>Sunflowers, <i>Clinton Scollard</i>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</li> +<li>Sweetheart-Lady, <i>Frank L. Stanton</i>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>.</li> +<li>Sweetwilliam, To the, <i>Norman Gale</i>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Tell-Tale, <i>Oliver Herford</i>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> +<li>"The Lord God planted a garden," <i>Dorothy Frances Gurney</i>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>.</li> +<li>"There is strength in the soil," <i>Arthur Stringer</i>, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>.</li> +<li>Thief, Da, <i>T. A. Daly</i>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li> +<li>Thistle, The, <i>Miles M. Dawson</i>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> +<li>Thoughts fer the Discuraged Farmer, <i>James Whitcomb Riley</i>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li> +<li>Three Cherry Trees, The, <i>Walter de la Mare</i>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li> +<li>Tilling, The, <i>Cale Young Rice</i>, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</li> +<li>Time of Roses, The, <i>Sarojini Naidu</i>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.</li> +<li>To a Daisy, <i>Alice Meynell</i>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li> +<li>To a New Sundial, <i>Violet Fane</i>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>.</li> +<li>To a Weed, <i>Gertrude Hall</i>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> +<li>To the Sweetwilliam, <i>Norman Gale</i>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li> +<li>Tree, The, <i>Evelyn Underhill</i>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li> +<li>Trees, <i>Bliss Carman</i>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>.</li> +<li>Trees, <i>Joyce Kilmer</i>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>.</li> +<li>Trees, The, <i>Samuel Valentine Cole</i>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>.</li> +<li>Tulip Garden, A, <i>Amy Lowell</i>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li> +<li>Tulips, <i>Arthur Guiterman</i>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</li> +<li>Two Roses, <i>William Lindsey</i>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>"Under the Trees," Selection from, <i>Anna Hempstead Branch</i>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.</li> +<li>Up a Hill and a Hill, <i>Fannie Stearns Davis</i>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Velvets, <i>Hilda Conkling</i>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>.</li> +<li>"Vestured and veiled with twilight," <i>Rosamund Marriott Watson</i>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Wall, The, <i>Abbie Farwell Brown</i>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>.</li> +<li>Ways of Time, The, <i>William H. Davies</i>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</li> +<li>Weed, To a, <i>Gertrude Hall</i>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> +<li>Welcome, <i>John Curtis Underwood</i>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>.</li> +<li>Welcome, The, <i>Arthur Powell</i>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></li> +<li>"What heart but fears a fragrance?" <i>Martha Gilbert Dickinson Bianchi</i>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</li> +<li>When Swallows Build, <i>Catherine Parmenter</i>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>.</li> +<li>"Where love is life," <i>Duncan Campbell Scott</i>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.</li> +<li>While April Rain went by, <i>Shaemas O Sheel</i>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</li> +<li>Whisper of Earth, The, <i>Edward J. O'Brien</i>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> +<li>White Iris, A, <i>Pauline B. Barrington</i>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> +<li>White Peacock, The, <i>William Sharp</i>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.</li> +<li>White Rose, The, <i>Charles Hanson Towne</i>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li> +<li>Wild Gardens, <i>Ada Foster Murray</i>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li> +<li>Wild Rose, The, <i>Charles Buxton Going</i>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li> +<li>Witchery, <i>Frank Dempster Sherman</i>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li> +<li>With a Rose, to Brunhilde, <i>Vachel Lindsay</i>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li> +<li>"With memories and odors," <i>John Hall Wheelock</i>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li> +<li>"Within the garden there is healthfulness," <i>Emile Verhaeren</i>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> +<li>Wonder Garden, A, <i>Frederic A. Whiting</i>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>.</li> +<li>Wood Song, <i>Sara Teasdale</i>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li>Years Afterward, <i>Nancy Byrd Turner</i>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></li> +<li>Yellow Warblers, <i>Katharine Lee Bates</i>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>INDEX OF AUTHORS</h2> + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">A. E.,</span> <a href="#Page_4">4</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Aiken, Conrad,</span> <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Akins, Zoë,</span> <a href="#Page_55">55</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Anderson, Margaret Steele,</span> <a href="#Page_273">273</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Bailey, L. H.,</span> <a href="#Page_148">148</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Barker, Elsa,</span> <a href="#Page_135">135</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Barrington, Pauline B.,</span> <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Bates, Katharine Lee,</span> <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Becker, Charlotte,</span> <a href="#Page_125">125</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Bianchi, Martha Gilbert Dickinson,</span> <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Biddle, Livingston L.,</span> <a href="#Page_131">131</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Branch, Anna Hempstead,</span> <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Brereton, M. G.,</span> <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Brown, Abbie Farwell,</span> <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Burnet, Dana,</span> <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Burr, Amelia Josephine,</span> <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Burton, Richard,</span> <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Bynner, Witter,</span> <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Carman, Bliss,</span> <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Cawein, Madison,</span> <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Chocano, José Santos,</span> <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Cleghorn, Sarah N.,</span> <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Coates, Florence Earle,</span> <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Cole, Samuel Valentine,</span> <a href="#Page_162">162</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Colum, Padraic,</span> <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Cone, Helen Gray,</span> <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Conkling, Grace Hazard,</span> <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Conkling, Hilda,</span> <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Crapsey, Adelaide,</span> <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Daly, T. A.,</span> <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Davies, William H.,</span> <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Davis, Fannie Stearns,</span> <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Dawson, Miles M.,</span> <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">De la Mare, Walter,</span> <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Deland, Margaret,</span> <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Denison, Eldredge,</span> <a href="#Page_189">189</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Dodge, Louis,</span> <a href="#Page_139">139</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Dorr, Julia C. R.,</span> <a href="#Page_91">91</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Driscoll, Louise,</span> <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">E., A.,</span> <a href="#Page_4">4</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Eastaway, Edward,</span> <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Evans, Florence Wilkinson,</span> <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Fane, Violet,</span> <a href="#Page_13">13</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Fenollosa, Mary McNeil,</span> <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Fish, W. W. Blair,</span> <a href="#Page_219">219</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Fletcher, John Gould,</span> <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Foster, Jeanne Robert,</span> <a href="#Page_262">262</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Frost, Robert,</span> <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Gale, Norman,</span> <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Garrison, Theodosia,</span> <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Gibson, Wilfrid Wilson,</span> <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Going, Charles Buxton,</span> <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Gosse, Edmund,</span> <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Griffith, William,</span> <a href="#Page_62">62</a>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Guest, Edgar A.,</span> <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Guiney, Louise Imogen,</span> <a href="#Page_268">268</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Guiterman, Arthur,</span> <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Gurney, Dorothy Frances,</span> <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Hagedorn, Hermann,</span> <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hall, Gertrude,</span> <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Harding, Ruth Guthrie,</span> <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hayes, John Russell,</span> <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Herford, Oliver,</span> <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hodgson, Ralph,</span> <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Holley, Horace,</span> <a href="#Page_7">7</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hooker, Brian,</span> <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hope, Laurence,</span> <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Housman, A. E.,</span> <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Howard, Katharine,</span> <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Howells, Mildred,</span> <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Hubbell, Rose Strong,</span> <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Jewett, Sarah Orne,</span> <a href="#Page_263">263</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Jewett, Sophie,</span> <a href="#Page_207">207</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Johnson, Burges,</span> <a href="#Page_242">242</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Johnson, Robert Underwood,</span> <a href="#Page_207">207</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Jones, Thomas S., Jr.,</span> <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Kemp, Harry,</span> <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Kenyon, James B.,</span> <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Ketchum, Arthur,</span> <a href="#Page_156">156</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Kilmer, Joyce,</span> <a href="#Page_165">165</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Kimball, Hannah Parker,</span> <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Kirby, Elizabeth,</span> <a href="#Page_131">131</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Kreymborg, Alfred,</span> <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Ledwidge, Francis,</span> <a href="#Page_26">26</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lee, Agnes,</span> <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Le Gallienne, Richard,</span> <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Letts, W. M.,</span> <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lindsay, Vachel,</span> <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lindsey, William,</span> <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Livingston, Robert,</span> <a href="#Page_230">230</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lodge, George Cabot,</span> <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Lowell, Amy,</span> <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">McCarthy, Denis A.,</span> <a href="#Page_22">22</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">McGiffert, Gertrude Huntington,</span> <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">McLeod, Irene Rutherford,</span> <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">McMillan, Mary,</span> <a href="#Page_51">51</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Malloch, Douglas,</span> <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Markham, Catherine,</span> <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Markham, Edwin,</span> <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Martinez, R. Arevalo,</span> <a href="#Page_279">279</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Masefield, John,</span> <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Masters, Edgar Lee,</span> <a href="#Page_277">277</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Meynell, Alice,</span> <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Middleton, Richard,</span> <a href="#Page_186">186</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Mifflin, Lloyd,</span> <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Millay, Edna St. Vincent,</span> <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Monroe, Harriet,</span> <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Morgan, Angela,</span> <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Mowrer, Paul Scott,</span> <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Murray, Ada Foster,</span> <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Naidu, Sarojini,</span> <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Nesbit, E.,</span> <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Noyes, Alfred,</span> <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">O'Brien, Edward J.,</span> <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">O'Conor, Norreys Jephson,</span> <a href="#Page_133">133</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Oppenheim, James,</span> <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">O Sheel, Shaemas,</span> <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Oxenham, John,</span> <a href="#Page_278">278</a>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Pai Ta-Shun,</span> <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Parmenter, Catherine,</span> <a href="#Page_238">238</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Patch, Kate Whiting,</span> <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></li> +<li><span class="smcap">Patterson, Antoinette De Coursey,</span> <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Peabody, Josephine Preston,</span> <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Peach, Arthur Wallace,</span> <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Pickthall, Marjorie L. C.,</span> <a href="#Page_184">184</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Powell, Arthur,</span> <a href="#Page_19">19</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Reese, Lizette Woodworth,</span> <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Rice, Cale Young,</span> <a href="#Page_258">258</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Rice, John Pierrepont,</span> <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Richards, Laura E.,</span> <a href="#Page_232">232</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Riley, James Whitcomb,</span> <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Rittenhouse, Jessie B.,</span> <a href="#Page_198">198</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Robinson, Corinne Roosevelt,</span> <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Ross, Charles,</span> <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Russell, George William,</span> <a href="#Page_4">4</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Sassoon, Siegfried,</span> <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Schauffler, Robert Haven,</span> <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Scollard, Clinton,</span> <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Scott, Duncan Campbell,</span> <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Selinger, Emily,</span> <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Sharp, William,</span> <a href="#Page_196">196</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Shepard, Odell,</span> <a href="#Page_63">63</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Sherman, Frank Dempster,</span> <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Smith, Marion Couthouy,</span> <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Smith, May Riley,</span> <a href="#Page_260">260</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Stanton, Frank L.,</span> <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Stephens, James,</span> <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Sterling, George,</span> <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Stork, Charles Wharton,</span> <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Stringer, Arthur,</span> <a href="#Page_4">4</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Tabb, John B.,</span> <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Tagore, Rabindranath,</span> <a href="#Page_200">200</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Teasdale, Sara,</span> <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Thirlmere, Rowland,</span> <a href="#Page_8">8</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Thomas, Edith M.,</span> <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Thomas, Edward,</span> <a href="#Page_276">276</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Towne, Charles Hanson,</span> <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Turner, Nancy Byrd,</span> <a href="#Page_186">186</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Tynan, Katharine,</span> <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Underhill, Evelyn,</span> <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Underwood, John Curtis,</span> <a href="#Page_264">264</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Untermeyer, Louis,</span> <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Upson, Arthur,</span> <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Van Dyke, Henry,</span> <a href="#Page_265">265</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Van Rensselaer, Mrs. Schuyler,</span> <a href="#Page_57">57</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Verhaeren, Emile,</span> <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Vernède, Robert Ernest,</span> <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Wagstaff, Blanche Shoemaker,</span> <a href="#Page_267">267</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Walsh, Thomas,</span> <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Watson, Rosamund Marriott,</span> <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Watson, William,</span> <a href="#Page_212">212</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Wheelock, John Hall,</span> <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">White, James Terry,</span> <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Whiting, Frederic A.,</span> <a href="#Page_134">134</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Whitney, Helen Hay,</span> <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Widdemer, Margaret,</span> <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Wilcox, Ella Wheeler,</span> <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Wilkinson, Marguerite,</span> <a href="#Page_221">221</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Wood, Clement,</span> <a href="#Page_90">90</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Wood, Henry A. Wise,</span> <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li> +<li><span class="smcap">Woodberry, George Edward,</span> <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><span class="smcap">Yeats, W. B.,</span> <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li> +</ul> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> +<div class="center"> +The Riverside Press<br /> +<br /> +CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS<br /> +<br /> +U. S. A.<br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="transnote"> +<div class="center"><big>Transcriber's Notes:</big></div> + +<p>Punctuation and obvious spelling errors repaired, but variant spellings retained.</p> + +<p>Inconsistent indentations within a poem were retained.</p> + +<p>In original, book title "Melody of Earth" appears twice at beginning, and +"Index of Titles" and "Index of Authors" headings appear +twice before their respective indexes. These redundancies were removed.</p> + +<p>Shaemas O Sheel: name occurs consistently with no punctuation after the O.</p> + +<p>Spaces were removed from spaced contractions: for example, "'t was" to "'twas," "that 's" to "that's," "did n't" to "didn't."</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Melody of Earth, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MELODY OF EARTH *** + +***** This file should be named 38438-h.htm or 38438-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/4/3/38438/ + +Produced by Charlene Taylor, JoAnn Greenwood, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +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. 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