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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of The golden whales of California and
+other rhymes in the American language, by Vachel Lindsay
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: The golden whales of California and other rhymes in the American
+       language
+
+Author: Vachel Lindsay
+
+Release Date: February 7, 2023 [eBook #69969]
+
+Language: English
+
+Produced by: D A Alexander, Krista Zaleski and the Online Distributed
+             Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+             produced from images generously made available by The
+             Internet Archive)
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN WHALES OF
+CALIFORNIA AND OTHER RHYMES IN THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE ***
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  THE GOLDEN WHALES
+  OF CALIFORNIA
+
+  AND OTHER RHYMES IN THE
+  AMERICAN LANGUAGE
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF THE BOOKS OF VACHEL LINDSAY
+
+
+_Prose_:
+
+    A Handy Guide for Beggars
+
+    Adventures While Preaching the Gospel of Beauty
+
+    The Art of the Moving Picture
+
+
+_Verse_:
+
+    General William Booth Enters into Heaven and Other Poems
+
+    The Congo and Other Poems
+
+    The Chinese Nightingale and Other Poems
+
+    The Golden Whales of California and Other Rhymes in the
+    American Language
+
+It is suggested that those who are interested in a complete view of
+these works should take them in the above order. They are all published
+by The Macmillan Company.
+
+
+
+
+  THE GOLDEN WHALES
+  OF CALIFORNIA
+
+  AND OTHER RHYMES IN THE
+  AMERICAN LANGUAGE
+
+  BY
+  VACHEL LINDSAY
+
+
+  New York
+  THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+  1920
+
+  _All rights reserved_
+
+
+
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1920,
+  BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+
+  Set up and electrotyped. Published January, 1920.
+
+
+
+
+               THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED
+
+                        TO
+
+                  ISADORA BENNETT,
+               CITIZEN OF SPRINGFIELD,
+
+       because she helped me to write many of
+         the pieces, from the Golden Whales
+        of California to Alexander Campbell,
+               and because she danced
+                  the Daniel Jazz.
+
+
+
+
+For permission to reprint some of the verses in this volume the author
+is indebted to the courtesy of the editors and publishers of _The
+Chicago Daily News_, _Poetry_ (Chicago), _Contemporary Verse_, _The New
+Republic_, _The Forum_, Books and the Book World of the _New York Sun_,
+_Others_, _The Red Cross Magazine_, _Youth_, _The Independent_, and
+William Stanley Braithwaite’s anthology entitled “Victory.”
+
+
+
+
+TABLE OF CONTENTS
+
+                                                                    PAGE
+
+  A WORD ON CALIFORNIA, PHOTOPLAYS, AND SAINT
+  FRANCIS                                                           xiii
+
+
+  FIRST SECTION
+
+  THE LONGER PIECES, WITH INTERLUDES
+
+  THE GOLDEN WHALES OF CALIFORNIA                                      3
+
+  KALAMAZOO                                                           11
+
+  JOHN L. SULLIVAN, THE STRONG BOY OF BOSTON                          14
+
+  BRYAN, BRYAN, BRYAN, BRYAN                                          18
+
+  RAMESES II                                                          31
+
+  MOSES                                                               32
+
+  A RHYME FOR ALL ZIONISTS                                            33
+
+  A MEDITATION ON THE SUN                                             38
+
+  DANTE                                                               42
+
+  THE COMET OF PROPHECY                                               43
+
+  SHANTUNG, OR THE EMPIRE OF CHINA IS CRUMBLING
+  DOWN                                                                46
+
+  THE LAST SONG OF LUCIFER                                            59
+
+
+  SECOND SECTION
+
+  A RHYMED SCENARIO, SOME POEM GAMES, AND
+  THE LIKE
+
+  A DOLL’S “ARABIAN NIGHTS”                                           71
+
+  THE LAME BOY AND THE FAIRY                                          77
+
+  THE BLACKSMITH’S SERENADE                                           83
+
+  THE APPLE BLOSSOM SNOW BLUES                                        87
+
+  THE DANIEL JAZZ                                                     91
+
+  WHEN PETER JACKSON PREACHED IN THE OLD
+  CHURCH                                                              95
+
+  THE CONSCIENTIOUS DEACON                                            97
+
+  DAVY JONES’ DOOR-BELL                                               99
+
+  THE SEA SERPENT CHANTEY                                            101
+
+  THE LITTLE TURTLE                                                  104
+
+
+  THIRD SECTION
+
+  COBWEBS AND CABLES
+
+  THE SCIENTIFIC ASPIRATION                                          107
+
+  THE VISIT TO MAB                                                   108
+
+  THE SONG OF THE STURDY SNAILS                                      110
+
+  ANOTHER WORD ON THE SCIENTIFIC ASPIRATION                          113
+
+  DANCING FOR A PRIZE                                                114
+
+  COLD SUNBEAMS                                                      116
+
+  FOR ALL WHO EVER SENT LACE VALENTINES                              117
+
+  MY LADY IS COMPARED TO A YOUNG TREE                                120
+
+  TO EVE, MAN’S DREAM OF WIFEHOOD, AS DESCRIBED
+  BY MILTON                                                          121
+
+  A KIND OF SCORN                                                    123
+
+  HARPS IN HEAVEN                                                    125
+
+  THE CELESTIAL CIRCUS                                               126
+
+  THE FIRE-LADDIE, LOVE                                              128
+
+
+  FOURTH SECTION
+
+  RHYMES CONCERNING THE LATE WORLD WAR, AND THE
+  NEXT WAR
+
+  IN MEMORY OF MY FRIEND JOYCE KILMER, POET AND
+  SOLDIER                                                            133
+
+  THE TIGER ON PARADE                                                136
+
+  THE FEVER CALLED WAR                                               137
+
+  STANZAS IN JUST THE RIGHT TONE FOR THE SPIRITED
+  GENTLEMAN WHO WOULD CONQUER MEXICO                                 138
+
+  THE MODEST JAZZ-BIRD                                               140
+
+  THE STATUE OF OLD ANDREW JACKSON                                   144
+
+  SEW THE FLAGS TOGETHER                                             146
+
+  JUSTINIAN                                                          149
+
+  THE VOICE OF ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI                                 150
+
+  IN WHICH ROOSEVELT IS COMPARED TO SAUL                             151
+
+  HAIL TO THE SONS OF ROOSEVELT                                      153
+
+  THE SPACIOUS DAYS OF ROOSEVELT                                     155
+
+
+  FIFTH SECTION
+
+  RHYMES OF THE MIDDLE WEST AND SPRINGFIELD,
+  ILLINOIS
+
+  WHEN THE MISSISSIPPI FLOWED IN INDIANA                             159
+
+  THE FAIRY FROM THE APPLE-SEED                                      161
+
+  A HOT TIME IN THE OLD TOWN                                         163
+
+  THE DREAM OF ALL OF THE SPRINGFIELD WRITERS                        166
+
+  THE SPRINGFIELD OF THE FAR FUTURE                                  168
+
+  AFTER READING THE SAD STORY OF THE FALL OF
+  BABYLON                                                            170
+
+  ALEXANDER CAMPBELL                                                 172
+
+
+
+
+A WORD ON CALIFORNIA, PHOTOPLAYS, AND SAINT FRANCIS
+
+
+In _The Art of the Moving Picture_, in the chapter on California and
+America, I said, in part:
+
+“The moving picture captains of industry, like the California gold
+finders of 1849, making colossal fortunes in two or three years, have
+the same glorious irresponsibility and occasional need of the sheriff.
+They are Californians more literally than this. Around Los Angeles
+the greatest and most characteristic moving picture colonies are
+built. Each photoplay magazine has its California letter, telling of
+the putting up of new studios, and the transfer of actors with much
+slap-you-on-the-back personal gossip.
+
+“... Every type of the photoplay but the intimate is founded on some
+phase of the out-of doors. Being thus dependent, the plant can best be
+set up where there is no winter. Besides this, the Los Angeles region
+has the sea, the mountains, the desert, and many kinds of grove and
+field....
+
+“If the photoplay is the consistent utterance of its scenes, if the
+actors are incarnations of the land they walk upon, as they should
+be, California indeed stands a chance to achieve through the films an
+utterance of her own. Will this land, furthest west, be the first to
+capture the inner spirit of this newest and most curious of the arts?...
+
+“People who revere the Pilgrim Fathers of 1620 have often wished those
+gentlemen had moored their bark in the region of Los Angeles, rather
+than Plymouth Rock, that Boston had been founded there. At last that
+landing is achieved.
+
+“Patriotic art students have discussed with mingled irony and
+admiration the Boston domination of the only American culture of the
+nineteenth century, namely, literature. Indianapolis has had her day
+since then. Chicago is lifting her head. Nevertheless Boston still
+controls the text book in English, and dominates our high schools.
+Ironic feelings in this matter, on the part of western men, are based
+somewhat on envy and illegitimate cussedness, but are also grounded in
+the honest hope of a healthful rivalry. They want new romanticists and
+artists as indigenous to their soil as was Hawthorne to witch-haunted
+Salem, or Longfellow to the chestnuts of his native heath. Whatever may
+be said of the patriarchs, from Oliver Wendell Holmes to Amos Bronson
+Alcott, they were true sons of the New England stone fences and
+meeting houses. They could not have been born or nurtured anywhere else
+on the face of the earth.
+
+“Some of us view with a peculiar thrill the prospect that Los Angeles
+may become the Boston of the photoplay. Perhaps it would be better to
+say the Florence, because California reminds one of colorful Italy,
+more than of any part of the United States. Yet there is a difference.
+
+“The present day man-in-the-street, man-about-town Californian has an
+obvious magnificence about him that is allied to the eucalyptus tree,
+the pomegranate....
+
+“The enemy of California says the state is magnificent, but thin. He
+declares it is as though it were painted on a Brobdingnagian piece of
+gilt paper, and he who dampens his finger and thrusts it through finds
+an alkali valley on the other side, the lonely prickly pear, and a heap
+of ashes from a deserted camp-fire. He says the citizens of this state
+lack the richness of an æsthetic and religious tradition. He says there
+is no substitute for time. But even these things make for coincidence.
+This apparent thinness California has in common with the routine
+photoplay, which is at times as shallow in its thought as the shadow
+it throws upon the screen. This newness California has in common with
+all photoplays. It is thrillingly possible for the state and the art to
+acquire spiritual tradition and depth together.
+
+“Part of the thinness of California is not only its youth, but the
+result of the physical fact that the human race is there spread over so
+many acres of land. “Good” Californians count their mines and enumerate
+their palm trees. They count the miles of their sea-coast, and the
+acres under cultivation and the height of the peaks, and revel in large
+statistics and the bigness generally, and forget how a few men rattle
+around in a great deal of scenery. They shout the statistics across
+the Rockies and the deserts to New York. The Mississippi valley is
+non-existent to the Californian. His fellow-feeling is for the opposite
+coast line. Through the geographical accident of separation by mountain
+and desert from the rest of the country, he becomes a mere shouter,
+hurrahing so assiduously that all variety in the voice is lost. Then he
+tries gestures, and becomes flamboyant, rococo.
+
+“These are the defects of the motion picture qualities. Also its
+panoramic tendency runs wild. As an institution it advertises itself
+with a sweeping gesture. It has the same passion for coast-line. These
+are not the sins of New England. When, in the hands of masters, they
+become sources of strength, they will be a different set of virtues
+from those of New England....
+
+“When the Californian relegates the dramatic to secondary scenes, both
+in his life and his photoplay, and turns to the genuinely epic and
+lyric, he and this instrument may find their immortality together as
+New England found its soul in the essays of Emerson. Tide upon tide of
+Spring comes into California, through all four seasons. Fairy beauty
+overwhelms the lumbering grand-stand players. The tiniest garden is a
+jewelled pathway of wonder. But the Californian cannot shout ‘orange
+blossoms, orange blossoms; heliotrope, heliotrope.’ He cannot boom
+forth ‘roseleaves, roseleaves’ so that he does their beauties justice.
+Here is where the photoplay can begin to give him a more delicate
+utterance. And he can go on into stranger things, and evolve all the
+_Splendor Films_ into higher types, for the very name of California
+is splendor.... The California photoplaywright can base his _Crowd
+Picture_ upon the city-worshipping mobs of San Francisco. He can derive
+his _Patriotic_ and _Religious Splendors_ from something older and more
+magnificent than the aisles of the Romanesque, namely: the groves of
+the giant redwoods.
+
+“The campaigns for a beautiful nation could very well emanate from the
+west coast, where, with the slightest care, grow up models for all the
+world of plant arrangement and tree-luxury. Our mechanical east is
+reproved, our tension is relaxed, our ugliness is challenged, every
+time we look upon those garden-paths and forests.
+
+“It is possible for Los Angeles to lay hold of the motion picture as
+our national text book in art, as Boston appropriated to herself the
+guardianship of the national text book of literature. If California
+has a shining soul, and not merely a golden body, let her forget her
+seventeen year old melodramatics, and turn to her poets who understand
+the heart underneath the glory. Edwin Markham, the dean of American
+singers, Clark Ashton Smith, the young star-treader, George Sterling
+... have, in their songs, seeds of better scenarios than California has
+sent us....
+
+“California can tell us stories that are grim children of the tales of
+the wild Ambrose Bierce. Then there is the lovely unforgotten Nora May
+French, and the austere Edward Rowland Sill....”
+
+All this from _The Art of the Moving Picture_ may serve to answer many
+questions I have been asked as to my general ideas in the realms of
+art and verse, and it may more particularly elucidate my _personal
+attitude toward California_.
+
+One item that should perhaps chasten the native son, is that these
+motion picture people, so truly the hope of California, are not native
+sons or daughters.
+
+When I was in Los Angeles, visiting my cousin Ruby Vachel Lindsay, we
+discussed many of these items at great length, as we walked about the
+Los Angeles region together. I owe much of my conception of the more
+idealistic moods of the state to those conversations. Others who have
+shown me what might be called the Franciscan soul, of the Franciscan
+minority, are Professor and Mrs. E. Olan James, my host and hostess at
+Mills College. Another discriminating interpreter of the coast is that
+follower of Alexander Campbell, Peter Clark Macfarlane, to whom I owe
+much of my hope for a state that will some day gleam with spiritual and
+Franciscan, and not earthly gold.
+
+When I think of California, I think so emphatically of these people
+and the things they have to say to the native sons, and the rest,
+that if the discussion in this volume is not considered conclusive, I
+refer the reader to these, and to the California poets, and to motion
+picture people like Anita Loos and John Emerson, people who still dream
+of things that are not gilded, and know the difference for instance,
+between St. Francis and Mammon. For a general view of those poets of
+California who make clear its spiritual gold, turn to “Golden Songs of
+the Golden State,” an anthology collected by Marguerite Wilkinson.
+
+
+
+
+FIRST SECTION
+
+THE LONGER PIECES, WITH INTERLUDES
+
+
+
+
+THE GOLDEN WHALES OF CALIFORNIA
+
+
+_Part I. A Short Walk Along the Coast_
+
+  Yes, I have walked in California,
+  And the rivers there are blue and white.
+  Thunderclouds of grapes hang on the mountains.
+  Bears in the meadows pitch and fight.
+  (_Limber, double-jointed lords of fate,
+  Proud native sons of the Golden Gate._)
+  And flowers burst like bombs in California,
+  Exploding on tomb and tower.
+  And the panther-cats chase the red rabbits,
+  Scatter their young blood every hour.
+  And the cattle on the hills of California
+  And the very swine in the holes
+  Have ears of silk and velvet
+  And tusks like long white poles.
+  And the very swine, big hearted,
+  Walk with pride to their doom
+  For they feed on the sacred raisins
+  Where the great black agates loom.
+  Goshawfuls are Burbanked with the grizzly bears.
+  At midnight their children come clanking up the stairs.
+  They wriggle up the canyons,
+  Nose into the caves,
+  And swallow the papooses and the Indian braves.
+  The trees climb so high the crows are dizzy
+  Flying to their nests at the top.
+  While the jazz-birds screech, and storm the brazen beach
+  And the sea-stars turn flip flop.
+  The solid Golden Gate soars up to Heaven.
+  Perfumed cataracts are hurled
+  From the zones of silver snow
+  To the ripening rye below,
+  To the land of the lemon and the nut
+  And the biggest ocean in the world.
+  While the Native Sons, like lords tremendous
+  Lift up their heads with chants sublime,
+  And the band-stands sound the trombone, the saxophone and xylophone
+  And the whales roar in perfect tune and time.
+  And the chanting of the whales of California
+  I have set my heart upon.
+  It is sometimes a play by Belasco,
+  Sometimes a tale of Prester John.
+
+
+_Part II. The Chanting of the Whales_
+
+  North to the Pole, south to the Pole
+  The whales of California wallow and roll.
+  They dive and breed and snort and play
+  And the sun struck feed them every day
+  Boatloads of citrons, quinces, cherries,
+  Of bloody strawberries, plums and beets,
+  Hogsheads of pomegranates, vats of sweets,
+  And the he-whales’ chant like a cyclone blares,
+  Proclaiming the California noons
+  So gloriously hot some days
+  The snake is fried in the desert
+  And the flea no longer plays.
+  There are ten gold suns in California
+  When all other lands have one,
+  For the Golden Gate must have due light
+  And persimmons be well-done.
+  And the hot whales slosh and cool in the wash
+  And the fume of the hollow sea.
+  Rally and roam in the loblolly foam
+  And whoop that their souls are free.
+  (_Limber, double-jointed lords of fate,
+  Proud native sons of the Golden Gate._)
+  And they chant of the forty-niners
+  Who sailed round the cape for their loot
+  With guns and picks and washpans
+  And a dagger in each boot.
+  How the richest became the King of England,
+  The poorest became the King of Spain,
+  The bravest a colonel in the army,
+  And a mean one went insane.
+
+  The ten gold suns are so blasting
+  The sunstruck scoot for the sea
+  And turn to mermen and mermaids
+  And whoop that their souls are free.
+  (_Limber, double-jointed lords of fate,
+  Proud native sons of the Golden Gate._)
+  And they take young whales for their bronchos
+  And old whales for their steeds,
+  Harnessed with golden seaweeds,
+  And driven with golden reeds.
+  They dance on the shore throwing roseleaves.
+  They kiss all night throwing hearts.
+  They fight like scalded wildcats
+  When the least bit of fighting starts.
+  They drink, these belly-busting devils
+  And their tremens shake the ground.
+  And then they repent like whirlwinds
+  And never were such saints found.
+  They will give you their plug tobacco.
+  They will give you the shirts off their backs.
+  They will cry for your every sorrow,
+  Put ham in your haversacks.
+  And they feed the cuttlefishes, whales and skates
+  With dates and figs in bales and crates:--
+  Shiploads of sweet potatoes, peanuts, rutabagas,
+  Honey in hearts of gourds:
+  Grapefruits and oranges barrelled with apples,
+  And spices like sharp sweet swords.
+
+
+_Part III. St. Francis of San Francisco_
+
+  But the surf is white, down the long strange coast
+  With breasts that shake with sighs,
+  And the ocean of all oceans
+  Holds salt from weary eyes.
+
+  St. Francis comes to his city at night
+  And stands in the brilliant electric light
+  And his swans that prophesy night and day
+  Would soothe his heart that wastes away:
+  The giant swans of California
+  That nest on the Golden Gate
+  And beat through the clouds serenely
+  And on St. Francis wait.
+  But St. Francis shades his face in his cowl
+  And stands in the street like a lost grey owl.
+  He thinks of _gold_ ... _gold_.
+  He sees on far redwoods
+  Dewfall and dawning:
+  Deep in Yosemite
+  Shadows and shrines:
+  He hears from far valleys
+  Prayers by young Christians,
+  He sees their due penance
+  So cruel, so cold;
+  He sees them made holy,
+  White-souled like young aspens
+  With whimsies and fancies untold:--
+  _The opposite of gold_.
+  And the mighty mountain swans of California
+  Whose eggs are like mosque domes of Ind,
+  Cry with curious notes
+  That their eggs are good for boats
+  To toss upon the foam and the wind.
+  He beholds on far rivers
+  The venturesome lovers
+  Sailing for the sea
+  All night
+  In swanshells white.
+  He sees them far on the ocean prevailing
+  In a year and a month and a day of sailing
+  Leaving the whales and their whoop unfailing
+  On through the lightning, ice and confusion
+  North of the North Pole,
+  South of the South Pole,
+  And west of the west of the west of the west,
+  To the shore of Heartache’s Cure,
+  _The opposite of gold_,
+  On and on like Columbus
+  With faith and eggshell sure.
+
+
+_Part IV. The Voice of the Earthquake_
+
+  But what is the earthquake’s cry at last
+  Making St. Francis yet aghast:--
+
+[Sidenote: From here on, the audience joins in the refrain:--“_gold,
+gold, gold_.”]
+
+  “Oh the flashing cornucopia of haughty California
+  Is _gold, gold, gold_.
+  Their brittle speech and their clutching reach
+  Is _gold, gold, gold_.
+  What is the fire-engine’s ding dong bell?
+  The burden of the burble of the bull-frog in the well?
+  _Gold, gold, gold.
+  What_ is the color of the cup and plate
+  And knife and fork of the chief of state?
+  _Gold, gold, gold._
+  _What_ is the flavor of the Bartlett pear?
+  _What_ is the savor of the salt sea air?
+  _Gold, gold, gold._
+  _What_ is the color of the sea-girl’s hair?
+  _Gold, gold, gold._
+  In the church of Jesus and the streets of Venus:--
+  _Gold, gold, gold._
+  What color are the cradle and the bridal bed?
+  What color are the coffins of the great grey dead?
+  _Gold, gold, gold._
+  What is the hue of the big whales’ hide?
+  _Gold, gold, gold._
+  What is the color of their guts’ inside?
+  _Gold, gold, gold._
+
+  “What is the color of the pumpkins in the moonlight?
+  _Gold, gold, gold._
+  The color of the moth and the worm in the starlight?
+  _Gold, gold, gold._”
+
+
+
+
+KALAMAZOO
+
+
+  Once, in the city of Kalamazoo,
+  The gods went walking, two and two,
+  With the friendly phœnix, the stars of Orion,
+  The speaking pony and singing lion.
+  For in Kalamazoo in a cottage apart
+  Lived the girl with the innocent heart.
+
+  Thenceforth the city of Kalamazoo
+  Was the envied, intimate chum of the sun.
+  He rose from a cave by the principal street.
+  The lions sang, the dawn-horns blew,
+  And the ponies danced on silver feet.
+  He hurled his clouds of love around;
+  Deathless colors of his old heart
+  Draped the houses and dyed the ground.
+  Oh shrine of the wide young Yankee land,
+  Incense city of Kalamazoo,
+  That held, in the midnight, the priceless sun
+  As a jeweller holds an opal in hand!
+
+  From the awkward city of Oshkosh came
+  Love the bully no whip shall tame,
+  Bringing his gang of sinners bold.
+  And I was the least of his Oshkosh men;
+  But none were reticent, none were old.
+  And we joined the singing phœnix then,
+  And shook the lilies of Kalamazoo
+  All for one hidden butterfly.
+  Bulls of glory, in cars of war
+  We charged the boulevards, proud to die
+  For her ribbon sailing there on high.
+  Our blood set gutters all aflame,
+  Where the sun slept without any shame,
+  Cold rock till he must rise again.
+  She made great poets of wolf-eyed men--
+  The dear queen-bee of Kalamazoo,
+  With her crystal wings, and her honey heart.
+  We fought for her favors a year and a day
+  (Oh, the bones of the dead, the Oshkosh dead,
+  That were scattered along her pathway red!)
+  And then, in her harum-scarum way,
+  She left with a passing traveller-man--
+  With a singing Irishman
+  Went to Japan.
+
+  Why do the lean hyenas glare
+  Where the glory of Artemis had begun--
+  Of Atalanta, Joan of Arc,
+  Lorna Doone, Rosy O’Grady,
+  And Orphant Annie, all in one?
+  Who burned this city of Kalamazoo
+  Till nothing was left but a ribbon or two--
+  One scorched phœnix that mourned in the dew,
+  Acres of ashes, a junk-man’s cart,
+  A torn-up letter, a dancing shoe,
+  (And the bones of the valiant dead)?
+  Who burned this city of Kalamazoo--
+  Love-town, Troy-town Kalamazoo?
+
+  A harum-scarum innocent heart.
+
+
+
+
+JOHN L. SULLIVAN, THE STRONG BOY OF BOSTON
+
+_Inscribed to Louis Untermeyer and Robert Frost_
+
+
+  When I was nine years old, in 1889
+  I sent my love a lacy Valentine.
+  Suffering boys were dressed like Fauntleroys,
+  While Judge and Puck in giant humor vied.
+  The Gibson Girl came shining like a bride
+  To spoil the cult of Tennyson’s Elaine.
+  Louisa Alcott was my gentle guide....
+  Then ...
+  I heard a battle trumpet sound.
+  Nigh New Orleans
+  Upon an emerald plain
+  John L. Sullivan
+  The strong boy
+  Of Boston
+  Fought seventy-five red rounds with Jake Kilrain.
+
+  In simple sheltered 1889
+  Nick Carter I would piously deride.
+  Over the Elsie Books I moped and sighed.
+  St. Nicholas Magazine was all my pride,
+  While coarser boys on cellar doors would slide.
+  The grown ups bought refinement by the pound.
+  Rogers groups had not been told to hide.
+  E. P. Roe had just begun to wane.
+  Howells was rising, surely to attain!
+  The nation for a jamboree was gowned:--
+  Her hundredth year of roaring freedom crowned.
+  The British Lion ran and hid from Blaine
+  The razzle-dazzle hip-hurrah from Maine.
+  The mocking bird was singing in the lane....
+  Yet ...
+  “East side, west side, all around the town
+  The tots sang: ‘Ring a rosie--’
+  ‘London Bridge is falling down.’”
+  And ...
+  John L. Sullivan
+  The strong boy
+  Of Boston
+  Broke every single rib of Jake Kilrain.
+
+  In dear provincial 1889,
+  Barnum’s bears and tigers could astound.
+  Ingersoll was called a most vile hound,
+  And named with Satan, Judas, Thomas Paine!
+  Robert Elsmere riled the pious brain.
+  Phillips Brooks for heresy was fried.
+  Boston Brahmins patronized Mark Twain.
+  The base ball rules were changed. That was a gain.
+  Pop Anson was our darling, pet and pride.
+  Native sons in Irish votes were drowned.
+  Tammany once more escaped its chain.
+  Once more each raw saloon was raising Cain.
+  The mocking bird was singing in the lane....
+  Yet ...
+  “East side, west side, all around the town
+  The tots sang: ‘Ring a rosie’
+  ‘London Bridge is falling down.’”
+  And ...
+  John L. Sullivan
+  The strong boy
+  Of Boston
+  Finished the ring career of Jake Kilrain.
+
+  In mystic, ancient 1889,
+  Wilson with pure learning was allied.
+  Roosevelt gave forth a chirping sound.
+  Stanley found old Emin and his train.
+  Stout explorers sought the pole in vain.
+  To dream of flying proved a man insane.
+  The newly rich were bathing in champagne.
+  Van Bibber Davis, at a single bound
+  Displayed himself, and simpering glory found.
+  John J. Ingalls, like a lonely crane
+  Swore and swore, and stalked the Kansas plain.
+  The Cronin murder was the ages’ stain.
+  Johnstown was flooded, and the whole world cried.
+  We heard not of Louvain nor of Lorraine,
+  Or a million heroes for their freedom slain.
+  Of Armageddon and the world’s birth-pain--
+  The League of Nations, and the world one posy.
+  We _thought_ the world would loaf and sprawl and mosey.
+  The gods of Yap and Swat were sweetly dozy.
+  We _thought_ the far off gods of Chow had died.
+  The mocking bird was singing in the lane....
+  Yet ...
+  “East side, west side, all around the town
+  The tots sang: ‘Ring a rosie’
+  ‘LONDON BRIDGE IS FALLING DOWN.’”
+  And ...
+  John L. Sullivan knocked out Jake Kilrain.
+
+
+
+
+BRYAN, BRYAN, BRYAN, BRYAN
+
+_The Campaign of Eighteen Ninety-six, as Viewed at the Time by a
+Sixteen Year Old, etc._
+
+
+I
+
+  In a nation of one hundred fine, mob-hearted, lynching,
+      relenting, repenting millions,
+  There are plenty of sweeping, swinging, stinging, gorgeous
+      things to shout about,
+  And knock your old blue devils out.
+
+  I brag and chant of Bryan, Bryan, Bryan,
+  Candidate for president who sketched a silver Zion,
+  The one American Poet who could sing out doors.
+  He brought in tides of wonder, of unprecedented splendor,
+  Wild roses from the plains, that made hearts tender,
+  All the funny circus silks
+  Of politics unfurled,
+  Bartlett pears of romance that were honey at the cores,
+  And torchlights down the street, to the end of the world.
+  There were truths eternal in the gab and tittle-tattle.
+  There were real heads broken in the fustian and the rattle.
+  There were real lines drawn:
+  Not the silver and the gold,
+  But Nebraska’s cry went eastward against the dour and old,
+  The mean and cold.
+
+  It was eighteen ninety-six, and I was just sixteen
+  And Altgeld ruled in Springfield, Illinois,
+  When there came from the sunset Nebraska’s shout of joy:--
+  In a coat like a deacon, in a black Stetson hat
+  He scourged the elephant plutocrats
+  With barbed wire from the Platte.
+  The scales dropped from their mighty eyes.
+  They saw that summer’s noon
+  A tribe of wonders coming
+  To a marching tune.
+
+  Oh the long horns from Texas,
+  The jay hawks from Kansas,
+  The plop-eyed bungaroo and giant giassicus,
+  The varmint, chipmunk, bugaboo,
+  The horned-toad, prairie-dog and ballyhoo,
+  From all the new-born states arow,
+  Bidding the eagles of the west fly on,
+  Bidding the eagles of the west fly on.
+  The fawn, prodactyl and thing-a-ma-jig,
+  The rakaboor, the hellangone,
+  The whangdoodle, batfowl and pig,
+  The coyote, wild-cat and grizzly in a glow,
+  In a miracle of health and speed, the whole breed abreast,
+  They leaped the Mississippi, blue border of the West,
+  From the Gulf to Canada, two thousand miles long:--
+  Against the towns of Tubal Cain,
+  Ah,--sharp was their song.
+  Against the ways of Tubal Cain, too cunning for the young,
+  The long-horn calf, the buffalo and wampus gave tongue.
+
+  These creatures were defending things Mark Hanna never dreamed:
+  The moods of airy childhood that in desert dews gleamed,
+  The gossamers and whimsies,
+  The monkeyshines and didoes
+  Rank and strange
+  Of the canyons and the range,
+  The ultimate fantastics
+  Of the far western slope,
+  And of prairie schooner children
+  Born beneath the stars,
+  Beneath falling snows,
+  Of the babies born at midnight
+  In the sod huts of lost hope,
+  With no physician there,
+  Except a Kansas prayer,
+  With the Indian raid a howling through the air.
+
+  And all these in their helpless days
+  By the dour East oppressed,
+  Mean paternalism
+  Making their mistakes for them,
+  Crucifying half the West,
+  Till the whole Atlantic coast
+  Seemed a giant spiders’ nest.
+
+  And these children and their sons
+  At last rode through the cactus,
+  A cliff of mighty cowboys
+  On the lope,
+  With gun and rope.
+  And all the way to frightened Maine the old East heard them call,
+  And saw our Bryan by a mile lead the wall
+  Of men and whirling flowers and beasts,
+  The bard and the prophet of them all.
+  Prairie avenger, mountain lion,
+  Bryan, Bryan, Bryan, Bryan,
+  Gigantic troubadour, speaking like a siege gun,
+  Smashing Plymouth Rock with his boulders from the West,
+  And just a hundred miles behind, tornadoes piled across the sky,
+  Blotting out sun and moon,
+  A sign on high.
+
+  Headlong, dazed and blinking in the weird green light,
+  The scalawags made moan,
+  Afraid to fight.
+
+
+II
+
+  When Bryan came to Springfield, and Altgeld gave him greeting,
+  Rochester was deserted, Divernon was deserted,
+  Mechanicsburg, Riverton, Chickenbristle, Cotton Hill,
+  Empty: for all Sangamon drove to the meeting--
+  In silver-decked racing cart,
+  Buggy, buckboard, carryall,
+  Carriage, phaeton, whatever would haul,
+  And silver-decked farm-wagons gritted, banged and rolled,
+  With the new tale of Bryan by the iron tires told.
+
+  The State House loomed afar,
+  A speck, a hive, a football,
+  A captive balloon!
+  And the town was all one spreading wing of bunting, plumes,
+      and sunshine,
+  Every rag and flag, and Bryan picture sold,
+  When the rigs in many a dusty line
+  Jammed our streets at noon,
+  And joined the wild parade against the power of gold.
+
+  We roamed, we boys from High School
+  With mankind,
+  While Springfield gleamed,
+  Silk-lined.
+  Oh Tom Dines, and Art Fitzgerald,
+  And the gangs that they could get!
+  I can hear them yelling yet.
+  Helping the incantation,
+  Defying aristocracy,
+  With every bridle gone,
+  Ridding the world of the low down mean,
+  Bidding the eagles of the West fly on,
+  Bidding the eagles of the West fly on,
+  We were bully, wild and wooly,
+  Never yet curried below the knees.
+  We saw flowers in the air,
+  Fair as the Pleiades, bright as Orion,
+  --Hopes of all mankind,
+  Made rare, resistless, thrice refined.
+  Oh we bucks from every Springfield ward!
+  Colts of democracy--
+  Yet time-winds out of Chaos from the star-fields of the Lord.
+
+  The long parade rolled on. I stood by my best girl.
+  She was a cool young citizen, with wise and laughing eyes.
+  With my necktie by my ear, I was stepping on my dear,
+  But she kept like a pattern, without a shaken curl.
+
+  She wore in her hair a brave prairie rose.
+  Her gold chums cut her, for that was not the pose.
+  No Gibson Girl would wear it in that fresh way.
+  But we were fairy Democrats, and this was our day.
+
+  The earth rocked like the ocean, the sidewalk was a deck.
+  The houses for the moment were lost in the wide wreck.
+  And the bands played strange and stranger music as they trailed along.
+  Against the ways of Tubal Cain,
+  Ah, sharp was their song!
+  The demons in the bricks, the demons in the grass,
+  The demons in the bank-vaults peered out to see us pass,
+  And the angels in the trees, the angels in the grass,
+  The angels in the flags, peered out to see us pass.
+  And the sidewalk was our chariot, and the flowers bloomed higher,
+  And the street turned to silver and the grass turned to fire,
+  And then it was but grass, and the town was there again,
+  A place for women and men.
+
+
+III
+
+  Then we stood where we could see
+  Every band,
+  And the speaker’s stand.
+  And Bryan took the platform.
+  And he was introduced.
+  And he lifted his hand
+  And cast a new spell.
+  Progressive silence fell
+  In Springfield,
+  In Illinois,
+  Around the world.
+  Then we heard these glacial boulders across the prairie rolled:
+  “_The people have a right to make their own mistakes....
+  You shall not crucify mankind
+  Upon a cross of gold._”
+
+  And everybody heard him--
+  In the streets and State House yard.
+  And everybody heard him
+  In Springfield,
+  In Illinois,
+  Around and around and around the world,
+  That danced upon its axis
+  And like a darling broncho whirled.
+
+
+IV
+
+  July, August, suspense.
+  Wall Street lost to sense.
+  August, September, October,
+  More suspense,
+  And the whole East down like a wind-smashed fence.
+
+  Then Hanna to the rescue,
+  Hanna of Ohio,
+  Rallying the roller-tops,
+  Rallying the bucket-shops,
+  Threatening drouth and death,
+  Promising manna,
+  Rallying the trusts against the bawling flannelmouth;
+  Invading misers’ cellars,
+  Tin-cans, socks,
+  Melting down the rocks,
+  Pouring out the long green to a million workers,
+  Spondulix by the mountain-load, to stop each new tornado,
+  And beat the cheapskate, blatherskite,
+  Populistic, anarchistic,
+  Deacon--desperado.
+
+
+V
+
+  Election night at midnight:
+  Boy Bryan’s defeat.
+  Defeat of western silver.
+  Defeat of the wheat.
+  Victory of letterfiles
+  And plutocrats in miles
+  With dollar signs upon their coats,
+  Diamond watchchains on their vests
+  And spats on their feet.
+  Victory of custodians,
+  Plymouth Rock,
+  And all that inbred landlord stock.
+  Victory of the neat.
+  Defeat of the aspen groves of Colorado valleys,
+  The blue bells of the Rockies,
+  And blue bonnets of old Texas,
+  By the Pittsburg alleys.
+  Defeat of alfalfa and the Mariposa lily.
+  Defeat of the Pacific and the long Mississippi.
+  Defeat of the young by the old and silly.
+  Defeat of tornadoes by the poison vats supreme.
+  Defeat of my boyhood, defeat of my dream.
+
+
+VI
+
+  Where is McKinley, that respectable McKinley,
+  The man without an angle or a tangle,
+  Who soothed down the city man and soothed down the farmer,
+  The German, the Irish, the Southerner, the Northerner,
+  Who climbed every greasy pole, and slipped through every crack;
+  Who soothed down the gambling hall, the bar-room, the church,
+  The devil vote, the angel vote, the neutral vote,
+  The desperately wicked, and their victims on the rack,
+  The gold vote, the silver vote, the brass vote, the lead vote,
+  Every vote....
+
+  Where is McKinley, Mark Hanna’s McKinley,
+  His slave, his echo, his suit of clothes?
+  Gone to join the shadows, with the pomps of that time,
+  And the flame of that summer’s prairie rose.
+
+  Where is Cleveland whom the Democratic platform
+  Read from the party in a glorious hour?
+  Gone to join the shadows with pitchfork Tillman,
+  And sledge-hammer Altgeld who wrecked his power.
+
+  Where is Hanna, bull dog Hanna,
+  Low browed Hanna, who said: “Stand pat”?
+  Gone to his place with old Pierpont Morgan.
+  Gone somewhere ... with lean rat Platt.
+
+  Where is Roosevelt, the young dude cowboy,
+  Who hated Bryan, then aped his way?
+  Gone to join the shadows with mighty Cromwell
+  And tall King Saul, till the Judgment day.
+
+  Where is Altgeld, brave as the truth,
+  Whose name the few still say with tears?
+  Gone to join the ironies with Old John Brown,
+  Whose fame rings loud for a thousand years.
+
+  Where is that boy, that Heaven-born Bryan,
+  That Homer Bryan, who sang from the West?
+  Gone to join the shadows with Altgeld the Eagle,
+  Where the kings and the slaves and the troubadours rest.
+
+    Written at the Guanella Ranch, Empire, Colorado, August, 1919.
+
+
+
+
+RAMESES II
+
+
+  Would that the brave Rameses, King of Time
+  Were throned in your souls, to raise for you
+  Vast immemorial dreams dark Egypt knew,
+  Filling these barren days with Mystery,
+  With Life and Death, and Immortality,
+  The Devouring Ages, the all-consuming Sun:
+  God keep us brooding on eternal things,
+  God make us wizard-kings.
+
+
+
+
+MOSES
+
+
+  Yet let us raise that Egypt-nurtured prince,
+  Son of a Hebrew, with the dauntless scorn
+  And hate for bleating gods Egyptian-born,
+  Showing with signs to stubborn Mizraim
+  “God is one God, the God of Abraham,”
+  He who in the beginning made the Sun.
+  God send us Moses from his hidden grave,
+  God make us meek and brave.
+
+
+
+
+A RHYME FOR ALL ZIONISTS
+
+    _The Eyes of Queen Esther, and How they Conquered King
+    Ahasuerus_
+
+    “Esther had not showed her people nor her kindred.”
+
+
+I
+
+  He harried lions up the peaks.
+  In blood and moss and snow they died.
+  He wore a cloak of lions’ manes
+  To satisfy his curious pride.
+  Men saw it, trimmed with emerald bands,
+  Flash on the crested battle-tide.
+
+  Where Bagdad stands, he hunted kings,
+  Burned them alive, his soul to cool.
+  Yet in his veins god Ormadz wrought
+  To make a just man of a fool.
+  He spoke the rigid truth, and rode,
+  And drew the bow, by Persian rule.
+
+
+II
+
+  Ahasuerus in his prime
+  Was gracious and voluptuous.
+  He saw a pale face turn to him,
+  A gleam of Heaven’s righteousness:
+  A girl with hair of David’s gold
+  And Rachel’s face of loveliness.
+
+  He dropped his sword, he bowed his head.
+  She led his steps to courtesy.
+  He took her for his white north star:
+  A wedding of true majesty.
+  Oh, what a war for gentleness
+  Was in her bridal fantasy!
+
+  Why did he fall by candlelight
+  And press his bull-heart to her feet?
+  He found them as the mountain-snow
+  Where lions died. Her hands were sweet
+  As ice upon a blood-burnt mouth,
+  As mead to reapers in the wheat.
+
+  The little nation in her soul
+  Bloomed in her girl’s prophetic face.
+  She named it not, and yet he felt
+  One challenge: her eternal race.
+  This was the mystery of her step,
+  Her trembling body’s sacred grace.
+
+  He stood, a priest, a Nazarite,
+  A rabbi reading by a tomb.
+  The hardy raider saw and feared
+  Her white knees in the palace gloom,
+  Her pouting breasts and locks well combed
+  Within the humming, reeling room.
+
+  Her name was _Meditation_ there:
+  Fair opposite of bullock’s brawn.
+  I sing her eyes that conquered him.
+  He bent before his little fawn,
+  Her dewy fern, her bitter weed,
+  Her secret forest’s floor and lawn.
+
+  He gave her Shushan[1] from the walls.
+  She saw it not, and turned not back.
+  Her eyes kept hunting through his soul
+  As one may seek through battle black
+  For one dear banner held on high,
+  For one bright bugle in the rack.
+
+  The scorn that loves the sexless stars:
+  Traditions passionless and bright:
+  The ten commands (to him unknown),
+  The pillar of the fire by night:--
+  Flashed from her alabaster crown
+  The while they kissed by candlelight.
+
+  The rarest psalms of David came
+  From her dropped veil (odd dreams to him).
+  It prophesied, he knew not how,
+  Against his endless armies grim.
+  He saw his Shushan in the dust--
+  Far in the ages growing dim.
+
+  Then came a glance of steely blue,
+  Flash of her body’s silver sword.
+  Her eyes of law and temple prayer
+  Broke him who spoiled the temple hoard.
+  The thief who fouled all little lands
+  Went mad before her, and adored.
+
+  The girl was Eve in Paradise,
+  Yet Judith, till her war was won.
+  All of the future tyrants fell
+  In this one king, ere night was done,
+  And Israel, captive then as now
+  Ruled with tomorrow’s rising sun.
+
+  And in the logic of the skies
+  He who keeps Israel in his hand,
+  The God whose hope for joy on earth
+  The Gentile yet shall understand,
+  Through powers like Esther’s steadfast eyes
+  Shall free each little tribe and land.
+
+    These verses were written for the Phi Beta Kappa Society of
+    Philadelphia and read at their meeting, December 8, 1917.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] Shushan--the royal city.
+
+
+
+
+A MEDITATION ON THE SUN
+
+
+I
+
+  Come, let us think upon the great that came
+  Our spiritual solar-kings, whose fame
+  Is quenchless in the lands of mental light,
+  High planets in the vast historic game:
+
+  Youths from the sky, they came in splendid flight.
+  We hold to them as to our day and night,
+  And by them measure out our moments here,
+  Our greatness, littleness, and wrong and right.
+
+  For like the sun, we carry yesteryears
+  Within our wallets: all the ancient fears
+  And scorns and triumphs woven in our cloaks,
+  Our tall plumes bought with some lost race’s tears.
+
+  Oh Sun, I wish that all the nations bright
+  You ever looked upon were in my sight,
+  That I had stood up in your royal car
+  With your eye-rays to search out field and height:
+
+  To see young David, leading forth his sheep,
+  The Christ Child on the Hill of Nazareth sleep,
+  To watch proud Dante climb the stranger’s stairs,
+  To see the ocean round Columbus leap.
+
+  And beauty absolute man’s heart has known
+  In those old hills where the Greek blood was sown,
+  They named you young Apollo in that day
+  And served you well, and loved your chariot-throne.
+
+  Would I had looked on Venice in her prime.
+  And long had watched the prayerful Gothic time
+  When Notre Dame arose, a mystery there
+  In wicked good old Paris and its grime!
+
+
+II
+
+  Oh light, light, light! Oh Sun your light is good.
+  You stir the sap of garden, field and wood,
+  Of men and ages. And your deeds are fair,
+  And by this light, is God’s love understood.
+
+  So let us think upon Creation’s days
+  And Great Jehovah Moses came to praise:--
+  The God the Hebrews said excelled the sun,
+  To whom all psalms are due, who made the ways
+
+  The sun shall follow till he burns no more
+  Till he is cold and clinkered to the core.
+  Praise God, and not the sun too much, my soul,
+  The God behind the sun we must adore.
+
+
+III
+
+  Oh Sun, that yet will my spring thoughts astound,
+  How often this lone mendicant you found
+  Stripped in your presence of all earthly things.
+  A happy dervish whirling round and round.
+
+  You were his tree of incense and his feast,
+  You were his wagon and his harnessed beast,
+  His singing brother, yet his tyrant hard,
+  With whip and spur and shout that never ceased.
+
+  He thought of Freedom that rides round with you
+  Healing the nations with a crystal dew,
+  The comrade of your car, with Science there,
+  Making the ways of men forever new.
+
+  Would we might lift a mighty battle-cry.
+  Nations and mendicants, and shake your sky:
+  Would that you caught us singing as one man
+  That song I sang when begging days began
+  Hearing it in every beam on high:
+  “Man’s spirit-darkness shall forever die.”
+
+
+
+
+DANTE
+
+
+  Would we were lean and grim, and shaken with hate
+  Like Dante, fugitive, o’er-wrought with cares,
+  And climbing bitterly the stranger’s stairs,
+  Yet Love, Love, Love, divining: finding still
+  Beyond dark Hell the penitential hill,
+  And blessed Beatrice beyond the grave.
+  Jehovah lead us through the wilderness:
+  God make our wandering brave.
+
+
+
+
+THE COMET OF PROPHECY
+
+
+  I had hold of the comet’s mane
+  A-clinging like grim death.
+  I passed the dearest star of all,
+  The one with violet breath:
+  The blue-gold-silver Venus star,
+  And almost lost my hold....
+  Again I ride the chaos-tide,
+  Again the winds are cold.
+
+  I look ahead, I look above,
+  I look on either hand.
+  I cannot sight the fields I seek,
+  The holy No-Man’s-Land.
+  And yet my heart is full of faith.
+  My comet splits the gloom,
+  His red mane slaps across my face,
+  His eyes like bonfires loom.
+
+  My comet smells the far off grass
+  Of valleys richly green.
+  My comet sights strange continents
+  My sad eyes have not seen,
+  We gallop through the whirling mist.
+  My good steed cannot fail.
+  And we shall reach that flowery shore,
+  And wisdom’s mountain scale.
+
+  And I shall find my wizard cloak
+  Beneath that alien sky
+  And touching black soil to my lips
+  Begin to prophesy.
+  While chaos sleet and chaos rain
+  Beat on an Indian Drum
+  There in tomorrow’s moon I stand
+  And speak the age to come.
+
+
+
+
+“Confucius appeared, according to Mencius, one of his most
+distinguished followers, at a crisis in the nation’s history. ‘The
+world,’ he says, ‘had fallen into decay, and right principles had
+disappeared. Perverse discourses and oppressive deeds were waxen rife.
+Ministers murdered their rulers, and sons their fathers. Confucius was
+frightened by what he saw,--and he undertook the work of reformation.’
+
+“He was a native of the state of Lu, a part of the modern Shantung....
+Lu had a great name among the other states of Chow ... etc.” Rev. James
+Legge, Professor of Chinese, University of Oxford.
+
+
+
+
+SHANTUNG, OR THE EMPIRE OF CHINA IS CRUMBLING DOWN
+
+    _Dedicated to William Rose Benét_
+
+
+I
+
+  _Now let the generations pass--
+  Like sand through Heaven’s blue hour-glass._
+
+  In old Shantung,
+  By the capital where poetry began,
+  Near the only printing presses known to man,
+  Young Confucius walks the shore
+  On a sorrowful day.
+  The town, all books, is tumbling down
+  Through the blue bay.
+  The book-worms writhe
+  From rusty musty walls.
+  They drown themselves like rabbits in the sea.
+  _Venomous foreigners harry mandarins_
+  With pitchfork, blunderbuss and snickersnee.
+
+  In the book-slums there is thunder;
+  Gunpowder, that sad wonder,
+  Intoxicates the knights and beggar-men.
+  The old grotesques of war begin again:
+  Rebels, devils, fairies, are set free.
+
+  So ...
+  Confucius hears a carol and a hum:
+  A picture sea-child whirs from off his fan
+  In one quick breath of peach-bloom fantasy,
+  Then, in an instant bows the reverent knee--
+  A full-grown sweetheart, chanting his renown.
+  And then she darts into the Yellow Sea,
+  Calling, calling:
+  “Sage with holy brow,
+  Say farewell to China now;
+  Live like the swine,
+  Leave off your scholar-gown!
+  This city of books is falling, falling,
+  The Empire of China is crumbling down.”
+
+
+II
+
+  _Confucius, Confucius, how great was Confucius--
+  The sage of Shantung, and the master of Mencius?_
+
+  Alexander fights the East.
+  Just as the Indus turns him back
+  He hears of tempting lands beyond,
+  With sword-swept cities on the rack
+  With crowns outshining India’s crown:
+  The Empire of China, crumbling down.
+  Later the Roman sibyls say:
+  “Egypt, Persia and Macedon,
+  Tyre and Carthage, passed away;
+  And the Empire of China is crumbling down.
+  Rome will never crumble down.”
+
+
+III
+
+  _See how the generations pass--
+  Like sand through Heaven’s blue hour-glass._
+
+  Arthur waits on the British shore
+  One thankful day,
+  For Galahad sails back at last
+  To Camelot Bay.
+  The _pure_ knight lands and tells the tale:
+  “Far in the east
+  A sea-girl led us to a king,
+  The king to a feast,
+  In a land where poppies bloom for miles,
+  Where books are made like bricks and tiles.
+  I taught that king to love your name--
+  Brother and Christian he became.
+
+  “His Town of Thunder-Powder keeps
+  A giant hound that never sleeps,
+  A crocodile that sits and weeps.
+
+  “His Town of Cheese the mouse affrights
+  With fire-winged cats that light the nights.
+  They glorify the land of rust;
+  Their sneeze is music in the dust.
+  (And deep and ancient is the dust.)
+
+  “All towns have one same miracle
+  With the Town of Silk, the capital--
+  Vast book-worms in the book-built walls.
+  Their creeping shakes the silver halls;
+  They look like cables, and they seem
+  Like writhing roots on trees of dream.
+  Their sticky cobwebs cross the street,
+  Catching scholars by the feet,
+  Who own the tribes, yet rule them not,
+  Bitten by book-worms till they rot.
+  Beggars and clowns rebel in might
+  Bitten by book-worms till they fight.”
+
+  Arthur calls to his knights in rows:
+  “I will go if Merlin goes;
+  These rebels must be flayed and sliced--
+  Let us cut their throats for Christ.”
+  But Merlin whispers in his beard:
+  “China has witches to be feared.”
+
+  Arthur stares at the sea-foam’s rim
+  Amazed. The fan-girl beckons him!--
+  That slender and peculiar child
+  Mongolian and brown and wild.
+  His eyes grow wide, his senses drown.
+  She laughs in her wing, like the sleeve of a gown.
+  She lifts a key of crimson stone:
+  “The Great Gunpowder-town you own.”
+  She lifts a key with chains and rings:
+  “I give the town where cats have wings.”
+  She lifts a key as white as milk:
+  “This unlocks the Town of Silk”--
+  Throws forty keys at Arthur’s feet:
+  “These unlock the land complete.”
+
+  Then, frightened by suspicious knights,
+  And Merlin’s eyes like altar-lights,
+  And the Christian towers of Arthur’s town,
+  She spreads blue fins--she whirs away;
+  Fleeing far across the bay,
+  Wailing through the gorgeous day:
+  “My sick king begs
+  That you save his crown
+  And his learnèd chiefs from the worm and clown--
+  The Empire of China is crumbling down.”
+
+
+IV
+
+  _Always the generations pass,
+  Like sand through Heaven’s blue hour-glass!_
+
+  The time the King of Rome is born--
+  Napoleon’s son, that eaglet thing--
+  Bonaparte finds beside his throne
+  One evening, laughing in her wing,
+  The Chinese sea-child; and she cries,
+  Breaking his heart with emerald eyes
+  And fairy-bred unearthly grace:
+  “Master, take your destined place--
+  Across white foam and water blue
+  The streets of China call to you:
+  The Empire of China is crumbling down.”
+  Then he bends to kiss her mouth,
+  And gets but incense, dust and drouth.
+
+  Custodians, custodians!
+  Mongols and Manchurians!
+  Christians, wolves, Mohammedans!
+
+  In hard Berlin they cried: “O King,
+  China’s way is a shameful thing!”
+
+  In Tokio they cry: “O King,
+  China’s way is a shameful thing!”
+
+  And thus our song might call the roll
+  Of every land from pole to pole,
+  And every rumor known to time
+  Of China doddering--or sublime.
+
+
+V
+
+  _Slowly the generations pass--
+  Like sand through Heaven’s blue hour-glass._
+
+  So let us find tomorrow now:
+  Our towns are gone;
+  Our books have passed; ten thousand years
+  Have thundered on.
+  The Sphinx looks far across the world
+  In fury black:
+  She sees all western nations spent
+  Or on the rack.
+  Eastward she sees one land she knew
+  When from the stone
+  Priests of the sunrise carved her out
+  And left her lone.
+  She sees the shore Confucius walked
+  On his sorrowful day:
+  _Impudent foreigners rioting_,
+  In the ancient way;
+  Officials, futile as of old,
+  Have gowns more bright;
+  Bookworms are fiercer than of old,
+  Their skins more white;
+  Dust is deeper than of old,
+  More bats are flying;
+  More songs are written than of old--
+  More songs are dying.
+
+  Where Galahad found forty towns
+  Now fade and glare
+  Ten thousand towns with book-tiled roof
+  And garden-stair,
+  Where beggars’ babies come like showers
+  Of classic words:
+  They rule the world--immortal brooks
+  And magic birds.
+
+  The lion Sphinx roars at the sun:
+  “I hate this nursing you have done!
+  The meek inherit the earth too long--
+  When will the world belong to the strong?”
+  She soars; she claws his patient face--
+  The girl-moon screams at the disgrace.
+  The sun’s blood fills the western sky;
+  He hurries not, and will not die.
+
+  The baffled Sphinx, on granite wings,
+  Turns now to where young China sings.
+  One thousand of ten thousand towns
+  Go down before her silent wrath;
+  Yet even lion-gods may faint
+  And die upon their brilliant path.
+  She sees the Chinese children romp
+  In dust that she must breathe and eat.
+  Her tongue is reddened by its lye;
+  She craves its grit, its cold and heat.
+  The Dust of Ages holds a glint
+  Of fire from the foundation-stones,
+  Of spangles from the sun’s bright face,
+  Of sapphires from earth’s marrow-bones.
+  Mad-drunk with it, she ends her day--
+  Slips when a high sea-wall gives way,
+  Drowns in the cold Confucian sea
+  Where the whirring fan-girl first flew free.
+
+  _In the light of the maxims of Chesterfield, Mencius,
+  Wilson, Roosevelt, Tolstoy, Trotsky,
+  Franklin or Nietzsche, how great was Confucius?_
+
+  “_Laughing Asia_” brown and wild,
+  That lyric and immortal child,
+  His fan’s gay daughter, crowned with sand,
+  Between the water and the land
+  Now cries on high in irony,
+  With a voice of night-wind alchemy:
+  “O cat, O sphinx,
+  O stony-face,
+  The joke is on Egyptian pride,
+  The joke is on the human race:
+  ‘The meek inherit the earth too long--
+  When will the world belong to the strong?’
+  I am born from off the holy fan
+  Of the world’s most patient gentleman.
+  So answer me,
+  O courteous sea!
+  O deathless sea!”
+
+  And thus will the answering Ocean call:
+  “China will fall,
+  The Empire of China will crumble down,
+  When the Alps and the Andes crumble down;
+  When the sun and the moon have crumbled down,
+  The Empire of China will crumble down,
+  Crumble down.”
+
+
+
+
+In the following narrative, Lucifer is not Satan, King of Evil, who in
+the beginning led the rebels from Heaven, establishing the underworld.
+
+Lucifer is here taken as a character appearing much later, the first
+singing creature weary of established ways in music, moved with the
+lust of wandering. He finds the open road between the stars too lonely.
+He wanders to the kingdom of Satan, there to sing a song that so moves
+demons and angels that he is, at its climax, momentary emperor of Hell
+and Heaven, and the flame kindled of the tears of the demons devastates
+the golden streets.
+
+Therefore it is best for the established order of things that this
+wanderer shall be cursed with eternal silence and death. But since then
+there has been music in every temptation, in every demon voice.
+
+Along with a set of verses called _The Heroes of Time_, and another
+_The Tree of Laughing Bells_, I exchanged _The Last Song of Lucifer_
+for a night’s lodging in New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Ohio, as narrated
+in _A Handy Guide for Beggars_.
+
+The fourteenth chapter of Isaiah contains these words on Lucifer:
+
+“Thy pomp is brought down to the grave, and the noise of thy viols: the
+worm is spread under thee and the worms cover thee.
+
+“How art thou fallen from Heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning. How
+art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations.
+
+“For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into Heaven, I will
+exalt my throne above the stars of God....
+
+“All the kings of the nations, even all of them, lie in glory, every
+one in his own house.
+
+“But thou art cast out of thy grave like an abominable branch, and as
+the raiment of those that are slain, thrust through with a sword, that
+go down to the stones of the pit; as a carcass trodden under feet.
+
+“Thou shalt not be joined to them in burial, because thou hast
+destroyed thy land.”
+
+
+
+
+THE LAST SONG OF LUCIFER
+
+_To Be Read Like a Meditation_
+
+
+[Sidenote: _Lucifer dreams of his fate and then forgets the dream._]
+
+  When Lucifer was undefiled,
+  When Lucifer was young,
+  When only angel-music
+  Fell from his glorious tongue,
+  Dreaming in his innocence
+  Beneath God’s golden trees
+  By genius pure his fancy fell--
+  By sweet divine disease--
+  To a wilderness of sorrows dim
+  Beneath the ether seas.
+  That father of radiant harmony,
+  Of music transcendently bright--
+  Truest to art since heaven began,
+  Wrapped in royal, melodious light--
+  That beautiful light-bearer, lofty and loyal
+  Dreamed bitter dreams of enigma and night.
+
+  But soon the singer woke and stood
+  And tuned his harp to sing anew
+  And scorned the dreams (as well he should)
+  For only to the evil crew
+  Are dreams of dread and evil true,
+  Remembered well, or understood.
+
+[Sidenote: _The dream is fulfilled._]
+
+  But when a million years were done
+  And a million million years beside,
+  He broke his harp-strings one by one;
+  He sighed, aweary of rich things,
+  He spread his pallid, heavy wings
+  And flew to find the deathless stains,
+  The wounds that come with wanderings.
+
+[Sidenote: _He will never dream again, but the demons dream of
+wandering and singing, and doing all things just as he did in his day._]
+
+  He chose the solemn paths of Hell,
+  He sang for that dumb land too well,
+  Defying their disdain
+  Till he was cursed and slain.
+  Ah--he shall never dream again--
+  Mourn, for he shall not dream again--
+  But the demons dream in pain,
+  Of wandering in the night
+  And singing in the night,
+  Singing till they reign.
+
+[Sidenote: _Music is holy, even in the infernal world._]
+
+[Sidenote: _If Lucifer’s song could be completely remembered, one would
+be willing to pay the great price._]
+
+  Oh hallowed are the demons,
+  A-dreaming songs again,
+  And holy to my heart! the ancient music-art,
+  That echo of a memory in demon-haunted men,
+  That hope of music, sweet hope, vain,
+  That sets the world a-seeking--
+  A passion pure, a subtle pain
+  Too dear for song or speaking.
+  Oh, who would not with the demons be,
+  For the fullness of their memory
+  Of that dayspring song,
+  Of that holy thing
+  That Lucifer alone could sing,
+  That Hell and Earth so hopelessly
+  And gloriously are seeking!
+
+[Sidenote: NOW FOLLOWS WHAT EVERY DEMON SAYS IN HIS HEART, REMEMBERING
+THAT TIME]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Sidenote: _How the singer made his lyre._]
+
+  Oh, Lucifer, great Lucifer,
+  Oh, fallen, ancient Lucifer,
+  Master, lost, of the angel choir--
+  Silent, suffering Lucifer:
+  Once your alchemies of Hell
+  Wrought your chains to a magic lyre
+  All strung with threads of purple fire,
+  Till the hell-hounds moaned from your bitter spell--
+  The sweetest song since the demons fell--
+  Haunting song of the heart’s desire.
+
+[Sidenote: _How the song began._]
+
+  Oh, Lucifer, great Lucifer,
+  You who have sung in vain,
+  Ecstasy of sweet regret,
+  Ecstasy of pain,
+  Strain that the angels can never forget,
+  Haunting the children of punishment yet,
+  Bowing them, bringing their tears in the darkness;
+  Oh, the night-caves of Chaos are breathing it yet!
+  The last that your bosom may ever deliver,
+  Oh, musical master of æons and æons....
+  Nor devils nor dragons may ever forget,
+  Though the walls of our prison should crumble and shiver,
+  And the death-dews of Chaos our armor should wet,
+  For the song of the infamous Lucifer
+  Was an anthem of glorious scorning
+  And courage, and horrible pain--
+  Was the song of a Son of the Morning,
+  A song that was sung in vain.
+
+  Oh singing was only in Heaven
+  Ere Lucifer’s melody came,
+  But when Lucifer’s harp-strings grew loud in their sighing,
+  When he called up the dragons by name--
+  The song was the sorrow of sorrows,
+  The song was the Hope of Despair,
+  Or the smile of a warrior falling--
+  A prayer and a curse and a prayer--
+  Or a soul going down through the shadows and calling,
+  Or the laughter of Night in his lair;
+  The song was the fear of ten thousand tomorrows--
+  On the racks of grief and of pain--
+  The herald of silences, dreadful, unending,
+  When the last little echo should listen in vain....
+
+[Sidenote: _How the song made the demons dream they were still fighting
+for Satan._]
+
+  It was memory, memory,
+  Visions of glory,--
+  Memory, memory,
+  Visions of fight.
+  The pride of the onset,
+  The banners that fluttered,
+  The wails of the battle-pierced angels of light.
+  Song of the times of the Nether Empire
+  The age when our desperate band
+  Heaped our redoubts with the horrible fire
+  On the fringes of Holier Land--
+  Conquering always, conquering never,
+  Building a throne of sand--
+  When Satan still wielded that glorious scepter--
+  The sword of his glorious hand.
+
+  Then rang the martial music
+  Sung by the hosts of God
+  In the first of the shameful years of fear
+  When we bit the purple sod:
+  He sang that shameful battle-story--
+  He twanged each threaded torture-flame;
+  Wherever his leprous fingers came
+  They drew from the strings a groan of glory:
+
+[Sidenote: _How the song enchanted them til they were in fancy the good
+warriors of God, and they shouted their enemy’s battle-cry._]
+
+  Then we dreamed at last,
+  Then we lost the past,
+  We dreamed we were angels in battle-array:
+  We tore our hearts with God’s battle-yell
+  And the sound crashed up from the smoky fen
+  And the battle sweat stood forth
+  On the awful brows of our fighting men:
+  And the magical singer, grim and wild
+  Swept his harp again, and smiled,
+  And the harp-strings lifted our cries that day
+  Till the thundering charge reached the City on High--
+  God’s charge, that he thought
+  Had passed for aye,
+  When our last fond hope went down to die.
+
+[Sidenote: _How, at the climax of the song Lucifer almost restored the
+first day of creation, when the Universe was happy and sinless._]
+
+[Sidenote: _How the tears of the distracted demons become a
+heaven-climbing flame._]
+
+  Oh throbbing, sweet, enthralling spell!
+  Madly, madly, oh my heart--
+  Heart of anguish, heart of Hell--
+  Beat the music through your night--
+  Pierced the strain that the wanderer
+  Wrought with fingers white;
+  For last he sang--of the morning--
+  The song of the Sons of the Morning--
+  The fire of the star-souled Lucifer
+  Before he had known a stain;
+  That song which came when the suns were young
+  And the Dayspring knew his place--
+  That joy, full born, that unknown tongue,
+  That shouting chant of the Sons of God
+  When first they saw Jehovah’s face.
+  And the Wanderer laughed, then sang it at last
+  Till it leaped as a flame to the forests on high
+  And the tears of the demons were fire in the sky.
+
+[Sidenote: _How Lucifer seemed to make himself God._]
+
+  And just for a breath he conquered and reigned,
+  For one quick pulse of time he stood;
+  By flame was crowned where God had been
+  Himself the Word sublime--
+  Himself the Most High Love unstained,
+  The Great, Good King of the Stars and Years--
+  Crowned, enthroned, by a leaping flame--
+  The fire of our love-born tears.
+
+[Sidenote: _How the angels were conquered by the sound of his music
+from afar, and the Demons were torn with love._]
+
+  And the angels bowed down, for his glory was vast--
+  Loving their conqueror, weeping, aghast--
+  While we sobbed, for a moment repenting the past,
+  And the mock-hope came, that eats and stings,
+  The hope for innocent dawns above,
+  The joy of it beat in our ears like wings,
+  Our iron cheeks seared with the tears of love--
+  Was it not enough,
+  Was it not enough
+  That our cheeks were seared with the tears of Love?
+
+[Sidenote: _Demons and angels curse the singer._]
+
+  So we cursed the harping of Lucifer
+  The lyre was lost from his leper hands
+  And the hell-hounds tore his living heart.
+  And the angels cursed great Lucifer
+  For his purple flame consumed their lands
+  Till golden ways were desert sands;
+  They hurled him down, afar, apart.
+
+[Sidenote: _The Punishment._]
+
+  Beneath where the Gulfs of Silence end,
+  Where never sighs nor songs descend,
+  Never a hell-flare in his eyes
+  Alone, alone, afar he lies....
+  Fearfully alone, beyond immortal ken
+  He is further down in the deep of pain
+  Than is Hell from the grief of men;
+  And his memories of music
+  Are rare as desert-rain.
+
+  Ended forever the ecstasy
+  And song too sweet for scorning--
+  The song that was still in vain;
+  And the shout of the battle-charge of God--
+  Ended forever the Song of the Morning--
+  The Song that was sung in vain.
+
+
+
+
+SECOND SECTION
+
+A RHYMED SCENARIO, SOME POEM GAMES, AND THE LIKE
+
+
+
+
+A DOLL’S “ARABIAN NIGHTS”
+
+_A Rhymed Scenario for Mae Marsh, when she acts in the new many-colored
+films_
+
+
+  I dreamed the play was real.
+  I walked into the screen.
+  Like Alice through the looking-glass,
+  I found a curious scene.
+  The black stones took on flame.
+  The shadows shone with eyes.
+  The colors poured and changed
+  In a Hell’s debauch of dyes,
+  In a street with incense thick,
+  In a court of witch-bazars,
+  With flambeaux by the stalls
+  Whose splutter hid the stars.
+  Camels stalked in line.
+  Courtezans tripped by
+  Dressed in silks and gems,
+  Copper diadems,
+  All the wealth they had.
+
+[Sidenote: _This refrain to be elaborately articulated and the
+instrumental music then made to match it precisely._]
+
+  _Oh quivering lights,_
+  _Arabian Nights!_
+  _Bagdad,_
+  _Bagdad!_
+
+  You were a guarded girl
+  In a palanquin of gold.
+  I was buying figs:
+  All my hands could hold.
+  You slipped a note to me.
+  Your eyes made me your slave.
+  “Twelve paces back,” you wrote.
+  No other word gave.
+  The delicate dove house swayed
+  Close-veiled, a snare most sweet.
+  “Joy” said the silver bells
+  On the palanquin-bearers’ feet.
+  Then by a mosque, a dervish
+  Yelled and whirled like mad.
+
+  _Oh quivering lights,
+  Arabian Nights!
+  Bagdad,
+  Bagdad!_
+
+  I reached a dim, still court.
+  I saw you there afar,
+  Beckoning from the roof,
+  Veiled, a cloud-wrapped star.
+  And your black slave said: “Proud boy,
+  Do you dare everything
+  With your young arm and bright steel?
+  Then climb. You are her king.”
+  And I heard a hiss of knives
+  In the doorway dark and bad.
+
+  _Oh quivering lights,
+  Arabian Nights!
+  Bagdad,
+  Bagdad!_
+
+  The stairway climbed and climbed.
+  It spoke. It shouted lies.
+  I reached a tar-black room,
+  A panther’s belly gloom,
+  Filled with howls and sighs.
+  I found the roof. Twelve kings
+  Rose up to stab me there.
+  But I sent them to their graves.
+  My singing shook the air.
+
+  My scimitar seemed more
+  Than any steel could be,
+  A whirling wheel, a pack
+  Of death-hounds guarding me.
+  And then you came like May.
+  You bound my torn breast well
+  With your discarded veil.
+  And flowery silence fell.
+  While Mohammed spread his wings
+  In the stars, you bent me back,
+  With a quick kiss touched my mouth,
+  And my heart was on the rack.
+  Oh dreadful, deathless love!
+  Oh kiss of Islam fire.
+  And your flashing hands were more
+  Than all a thief’s desire.
+
+[Sidenote: _The morning after is always noted in the Arabian Nights._]
+
+  I woke by twelve dead curs
+  On bloody, stony ground.
+  And the grey watch muttered “shame,”
+  As he tottered on his round.
+  You had written on my sword:--
+  “Goodby, O iron arm.
+  I love you much too well
+  To do you further harm.
+  And as my pledge and sign
+  You are in crimson clad.”
+
+  _Oh quivering lights,
+  Arabian Nights!
+  Bagdad,
+  Bagdad!_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  The rocs scream in the air.
+  The ghouls my pathway clear.
+  For I have drunk the soul
+  Of the dazzling maid they fear.
+  The long handclasp you gave
+  Still shakes upon my hands.
+  O, daughter of a Jinn
+  I plot in Islam lands,
+  Haunting purple streets,
+  Hissing, snarling, bold,
+
+  A robber never jailed,
+  A beggar never cold.
+  I shall be sultan yet
+  In this old crimson clad.
+
+  _Oh quivering lights,
+  Arabian Nights!
+  Bagdad,
+  Bagdad!_
+
+
+
+
+THE LAME BOY AND THE FAIRY
+
+_To be Chanted with a Suggestion of Chopin’s Berceuse_
+
+_A Poem Game. See the Chinese Nightingale, pages 93 through 97_
+
+
+  A lame boy
+  Met a fairy
+  In a meadow
+  Where the bells grow.
+
+  And the fairy
+  Kissed him gaily.
+
+  And the fairy
+  Gave him friendship,
+  Gave him healing,
+  Gave him wings.
+
+  “All the fashions
+  I will give you.
+  You will fly, dear,
+  All the long year.
+
+  “Wings of springtime,
+  Wings of summer,
+  Wings of autumn,
+  Wings of winter!
+
+  “Here is
+  A dress for springtime.”
+  And she gave him
+  A dress of grasses,
+  Orchard blossoms,
+  Wildflowers found in
+  Mountain passes,
+  _Shoes of song and
+  Wings of rhyme_.
+
+  “Here is
+  A dress for summer.”
+  And she gave him
+  A hat of sunflowers,
+  A suit of poppies,
+  Clover, daisies,
+  All from wheat-sheaves
+  In harvest time;
+  _Shoes of song and
+  Wings of rhyme_.
+
+  “Here is
+  A dress for autumn.”
+  And she gave him
+  A suit of red haw,
+  Hickory, apple,
+  Elder, paw paw,
+  Maple, hazel,
+  Elm and grape leaves.
+  And blue
+  And white
+  Cloaks of smoke,
+  And veils of sunlight,
+  From the Indian summer prime!
+  _Shoes of song and
+  Wings of rhyme._
+
+  “Here is
+  A dress for winter.”
+  And she gave him
+  A polar bear suit,
+  And he heard the
+  Christmas horns toot,
+  And she gave him
+  Green festoons and
+  Red balloons and
+  All the sweet cakes
+  And the snow flakes
+  Of Christmas time,
+  _Shoes of song and
+  Wings of rhyme_.
+
+  And the fairy
+  Kept him laughing,
+  Led him dancing,
+  Kept him climbing
+  On the hill tops
+  Toward the moon.
+
+  “We shall see silver ships.
+  We shall see singing ships,
+  Valleys of spray today,
+  Mountains of foam.
+  We have been long away,
+  Far from our wonderland.
+  Here come the ships of love
+  Taking us home.
+
+  “Who are our captains bold?
+  They are the saints of old.
+  One is Saint Christopher.
+  He takes your hand.
+  He leads the cloudy fleet.
+  He gives us bread and meat.
+  His is our ship till
+  We reach our dear land.
+
+  “Where is our house to be?
+  Far in the ether sea.
+  There where the North Star
+  Is moored in the deep.
+  Sleepy old comets nod
+  There on the silver sod.
+  Sleepy young fairy flowers
+  Laugh in their sleep.
+
+  “A hundred years
+  And
+  A day,
+  There we will fly
+  And play
+  I spy and cross tag.
+  And meet on the high way,
+  And call to the game
+  Little Red Riding Hood,
+  Goldilocks, Santa Claus,
+  Every beloved
+  And heart-shaking name.”
+
+  And the lame child
+  And the fairy
+  Journeyed far, far
+  To the North Star.
+
+
+
+
+THE BLACKSMITH’S SERENADE
+
+    _A pantomime and farce, to be acted by My Lady on one side of
+    a shutter, while the singer chants on the other, to an iron
+    guitar._
+
+
+  John Littlehouse the redhead was a large ruddy man
+  Quite proud to be a blacksmith, and he loved Polly Ann, Polly Ann.
+  Straightway to her window with his iron guitar he came
+  Breathing like a blacksmith--his wonderful heart’s flame.
+  Though not very bashful and not very bold
+  He had reached the plain conclusion his passion must be told.
+  And so he sang: “Awake, awake,”--this hip-hoo-rayious man.
+  “Do you like me, do you love me, Polly Ann, Polly Ann?
+  The rooster on my coalshed crows at break of day.
+  It makes a person happy to hear his roundelay.
+  The fido in my woodshed barks at fall of night.
+  He makes one feel so safe and snug. He barks exactly right.
+  I swear to do my stylish best and purchase all I can
+  Of the flummeries, flunkeries and mummeries of man.
+  And I will carry in the coal and the water from the spring
+  And I will sweep the porches if you will cook and sing.
+  No doubt your Pa sleeps like a rock. Of course Ma is awake
+  But dares not say she hears me, for gentle custom’s sake.
+  Your sleeping father knows I am a decent honest man.
+  Will you wake him, Polly Ann,
+  And if he dares deny it I will thrash him, lash bash mash
+  Hash him, Polly Ann.
+  Hum hum hum, fee fie fo fum--
+  And my brawn should wed your beauty
+  Do you hear me, Polly Ann, Polly Ann?”
+
+  Polly had not heard of him before, but heard him now.
+  She blushed behind the shutters like a pippin on the bough.
+  She was not overfluttered, she was not overbold.
+  She was glad a lad was living with a passion to be told.
+  But she spoke up to her mother: “Oh, what an awful man:--”
+  This merry merry quite contrary tricky trixy, Polly Ann, Polly Ann.
+
+  The neighbors put their heads out of the windows. They said:--
+  “What sort of turtle dove is this that seems to wake the dead?”
+  Yes, in their nighties whispered this question to the night.
+  They did not dare to shout it. It wouldn’t be right.
+  And so, I say, they whispered:--“Does she hear this awful man,
+  Polly Ann, Polly Ann?”
+
+  John Littlehouse the redhead sang on of his desires:
+  “Steel makes the wires of lyres, makes the frames of terrible towers
+  And circus chariots’ tires.
+  Believe me, dear, a blacksmith man can feel.
+  I will bind you, if I can to my ribs with hoops of steel.
+  Do you hear me, Polly Ann, Polly Ann?”
+
+  And then his tune was silence, for he was not a fool.
+  He let his voice rest, his iron guitar cool.
+  And thus he let the wind sing, the stars sing and the grass sing,
+  The prankishness of love sing, the girl’s tingling feet sing,
+  Her trembling sweet hands sing, her mirror in the dark sing,
+  Her grace in the dark sing, her pillow in the dark sing,
+  The savage in her blood sing, her starved little heart sing,
+  Silently sing.
+
+  “Yes, I hear you, Mister Man,”
+  To herself said Polly Ann, Polly Ann.
+
+  He shouted one great loud “_Good night_,” and laughed,
+  And skipped home.
+  And every star was winking in the wide wicked dome.
+
+  And early in the morning, sweet Polly stole away.
+  And though the town went crazy, she is his wife today.
+
+
+
+
+THE APPLE BLOSSOM SNOW BLUES
+
+    _A “blues” is a song in the mood of Milton’s Il Penseroso, or
+    a paragraph from Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy. This present
+    production is the chronicle of the secret soul of a vaudeville
+    man, as he dances in the limelight with his haughty lady. Let
+    the reader take special pains to make his own tune for this
+    production, to a very delicate drum beat._
+
+
+  “_Your_
+  Dandelion beauty,
+  _Your_
+  Cherry-blossom beauty,
+  _Your_
+  Apple-blossom beauty,
+  I will dance as I can,
+  O
+  You rag time lady,
+  O
+  You jazz dancing lady,
+  O
+  You blues-singing lady,”
+  _Thinks_ the blues-singing man.
+
+  “Your
+  Grace and slightness,
+  And your fragrant whiteness,
+  Make me see the bending
+  Of an apple-blossom bough.
+  _You_
+  Are a fairy,
+  Yet a jump-jazz dancer,
+  And your heart
+  Is a robin,
+  Singing, making merry
+  With the apple-flowers now.”
+
+  See him kneel and canter
+  And smirk and banter,
+  And essay her heart
+  While the gourd horns blow.
+  For he is her lover
+  _And_
+  Her dancing partner,
+  In the blues he made
+  Called “The Apple Blossom Snow.”
+
+  She does her duty
+  No more
+  Than her duty,
+  Yet the packed house cheers
+  To the gallery rim.
+  Her young scorn fires them,
+  Its pep inspires them,
+  They watch her lover
+  And envy him.
+
+  He does not fathom
+  What her heart has in keeping
+  Till that last circus leaping
+  Takes all by surprise.
+  Then he catches her softly,
+  Saves her gently,
+  And a mood for his soul
+  Lights her pansy eyes.
+
+  Then
+  She steps rare measures.
+  Her eyes are treasures.
+  Brave truth shines out
+  From her young-witch glance.
+  From the velvety shade,
+  Ah, the thoughts of the maid.
+  Relenting glory,
+  Unveiled by chance.
+
+  Though soon thereafter
+  She hides in laughter,
+  And flouts all his loving,
+  He will dance as he can,
+  As he can,
+  Like a man,
+  With his jazz dancing wonder,
+  With his pansy blossom wonder,
+  With his apple blossom wonder,
+  With his rag time lady,
+  The
+  Rag
+  Time
+  Man.
+
+[Sidenote: _Grand finale of jazz music, like the fall of a pile of
+dishes in the kitchen._]
+
+
+
+
+THE DANIEL JAZZ
+
+    _Let the leader train the audience to roar like lions, and to
+    join in the refrain “Go chain the lions down,” before he begins
+    to lead them in this jazz._
+
+
+[Sidenote: _Beginning with a strain of “Dixie.”_]
+
+  Darius the Mede was a king and a wonder.
+  His eye was proud, and his voice was thunder.
+  He kept bad lions in a monstrous den.
+  He fed up the lions on Christian men.
+
+[Sidenote: _With a touch of “Alexander’s Ragtime Band.”_]
+
+  Daniel was the chief hired man of the land.
+  He stirred up the jazz in the palace band.
+  He whitewashed the cellar. He shovelled in the coal.
+  And Daniel kept a-praying:--“Lord save my soul.”
+  Daniel kept a-praying:--“Lord save my soul.”
+  Daniel kept a-praying:--“Lord save my soul.”
+
+  Daniel was the butler, swagger and swell.
+  He ran up stairs. He answered the bell.
+  And _he_ would let in whoever came a-calling:--
+  Saints so holy, scamps so appalling.
+  “Old man Ahab leaves his card.
+  Elisha and the bears are a-waiting in the yard.
+  Here comes Pharaoh and his snakes a-calling.
+  Here comes Cain and his wife a-calling.
+  Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego for tea.
+  Here comes Jonah and the whale,
+  And the _Sea_!
+  Here comes St. Peter and his fishing pole.
+  Here comes Judas and his silver a-calling.
+  Here comes old Beelzebub a-calling.”
+  And Daniel kept a-praying:--“Lord save my soul.”
+  Daniel kept a-praying:--“Lord save my soul.”
+  Daniel kept a-praying:--“Lord save my soul.”
+
+  His sweetheart and his mother were Christian and meek.
+  They washed and ironed for Darius every week.
+  One Thursday he met them at the door:--
+  Paid them as usual, but acted sore.
+
+  He said:--“Your Daniel is a dead little pigeon.
+  He’s a good hard worker, but he talks religion.”
+  And he showed them Daniel in the lion’s cage.
+  Daniel standing quietly, the lions in a rage.
+
+  His good old mother cried:--
+  “Lord save him.”
+  And Daniel’s tender sweetheart cried:--
+  “Lord save him.”
+
+  And she was a golden lily in the dew.
+  And she was as sweet as an apple on the tree
+  And she was as fine as a melon in the corn-field,
+  Gliding and lovely as a ship on the sea,
+  Gliding and lovely as a ship on the sea.
+
+  And she prayed to the Lord:--
+  “_Send_ Gabriel. _Send_ Gabriel.”
+
+  King Darius said to the lions:--
+  “Bite Daniel. Bite Daniel.
+  Bite him. Bite him. Bite him!”
+
+[Sidenote: _Here the audience roars with the leader._]
+
+  Thus roared the lions:--
+  “We want Daniel, Daniel, Daniel,
+  We want Daniel, Daniel, Daniel.
+  Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
+  Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr”
+
+[Sidenote: _The audience sings this with the leader, to the old negro
+tune._]
+
+  And Daniel did not frown,
+  Daniel did not cry.
+  He kept on looking at the sky.
+  And the Lord said to Gabriel:--
+  “Go chain the lions down,
+  Go chain the lions down.
+  Go chain the lions down.
+  Go chain the lions down.”
+
+  And _Gabriel_ chained the lions,
+  And _Gabriel_ chained the lions,
+  And _Gabriel_ chained the lions,
+  And Daniel got out of the den,
+  And Daniel got out of the den,
+  And Daniel got out of the den.
+  And Darius said:--“You’re a Christian child,”
+  Darius said:--“You’re a Christian child,”
+  Darius said:--“You’re a Christian child,”
+  And gave him his job again,
+  And gave him his job again,
+  And gave him his job again.
+
+
+
+
+WHEN PETER JACKSON PREACHED IN THE OLD CHURCH
+
+    _To be sung to the tune of the old Negro Spiritual “Every time
+    I feel the spirit moving in my heart I’ll pray.”_
+
+
+  Peter Jackson was a-preaching
+  And the house was still as snow.
+  He whispered of repentance
+  And the lights were dim and low
+  And were almost out
+  When he gave the first shout:
+  “Arise, arise,
+  Cry out your eyes.”
+  And we mourned all our terrible sins away.
+  Clean, clean away.
+  Then we marched around, around,
+  And sang with a wonderful sound:--
+  “Every time I feel the spirit moving in my heart I’ll pray.
+  Every time I feel the spirit moving in my heart I’ll pray.”
+  And we fell by the altar
+  And fell by the aisle,
+  And found our Savior
+  In just a little while,
+  We all found Jesus at the break of the day,
+  We all found Jesus at the break of the day.
+  Blessed Jesus,
+  Blessed Jesus.
+
+
+
+
+THE CONSCIENTIOUS DEACON
+
+_A song to be syncopated as you please_
+
+
+  Black cats, grey cats, green cats miau--
+  Chasing the deacon who stole the cow.
+
+  He runs and tumbles, he tumbles and runs.
+  He sees big white men with dogs and guns.
+
+  He falls down flat. He turns to stare--
+  No cats, no dogs, and no men there.
+
+  But black shadows, grey shadows, green shadows come.
+  The wind says, “Miau!” and the rain says, “Hum!”
+
+  He goes straight home. He dreams all night.
+  He howls. He puts his wife in a fright.
+
+  Black devils, grey devils, green devils shine--
+  Yes, by Sambo,
+  And the fire looks fine!
+  Cat devils, dog devils, cow devils grin--
+  Yes, by Sambo,
+  And the fire rolls in.
+
+  And so, next day, to avoid the worst--
+  He takes that cow
+  Where he found her first.
+
+
+
+
+DAVY JONES’ DOOR-BELL
+
+_A Chant for Boys with Manly Voices._
+
+_Every line sung one step deeper than the line preceding._
+
+
+  Any sky-bird sings,
+      “_Ring, ring!_”
+  Any church-chime calls,
+      “_Dong ding!_”
+  Any cannon says,
+      “_Boom bang!_”
+  Any whirlwind says,
+      “_Whing whang!_”
+  The bell-buoy hums and roars,
+      “_Ding dong!_”
+  And way down deep,
+  Where fishes throng,
+  By Davy Jones’ big deep-sea door,
+  Shaking the ocean’s flowery floor,
+  His door-bell booms
+      “_Dong dong,
+      Dong dong_,”
+  Deep, deep down,
+      “_Clang boom,
+      Boom dong,
+      Boom dong,
+      Boom dong!_”
+
+
+
+
+THE SEA SERPENT CHANTEY
+
+
+I
+
+  There’s a snake on the western wave
+  And his crest is red.
+  He is long as a city street,
+  And he eats the dead.
+  There’s a hole in the bottom of the sea
+  Where the snake goes down.
+  And he waits in the bottom of the sea
+  For the men that drown.
+
+[Sidenote: _Let the audience join in the chorus._]
+
+Chorus:--
+
+  This is the voice of the sand
+  (The sailors understand)
+  “There is far more sea than sand,
+  There is far more sea than land. Yo ... ho, yo ... ho.”
+
+
+II
+
+  He waits by the door of his cave
+  While the ages moan.
+  He cracks the ribs of the ships
+  With his teeth of stone.
+  In his gizzard deep and long
+  Much treasure lies.
+  Oh, the pearls and the Spanish gold....
+  And the idols’ eyes....
+  Oh, the totem poles ... the skulls ...
+  The altars cold ...
+  The wedding rings, the dice ...
+  The buoy bells old.
+
+Chorus:--This is the voice, etc.
+
+
+III
+
+  Dive, mermaids, with sharp swords
+  And cut him through,
+  And bring us the idols’ eyes
+  And the red gold too.
+  Lower the grappling hooks
+  Good pirate men
+  And drag him up by the tongue
+  From his deep wet den.
+  We will sail to the end of the world,
+  We will nail his hide
+  To the main mast of the moon
+  In the evening tide.
+
+Chorus:--This is the voice, etc.
+
+
+IV
+
+  Or will you let him live,
+  The deep-sea thing,
+  With the wrecks of all the world
+  In a black wide ring
+  By the hole in the bottom of the sea
+  Where the snake goes down,
+  Where he waits in the bottom of the sea
+  For the men that drown?
+    Chorus:--This is the voice, etc.
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE TURTLE
+
+    _A Recitation for Martha Wakefield, Three Years Old_
+
+
+  There was a little turtle.
+  He lived in a box.
+  He swam in a puddle.
+  He climbed on the rocks.
+
+  He snapped at a musquito.
+  He snapped at a flea.
+  He snapped at a minnow.
+  And he snapped at me.
+
+  He caught the musquito.
+  He caught the flea.
+  He caught the minnow.
+  But he didn’t catch me.
+
+
+
+
+THIRD SECTION
+
+COBWEBS AND CABLES
+
+
+
+
+THE SCIENTIFIC ASPIRATION
+
+
+  Would that the dry hot wind called Science came,
+  Forerunner of a higher mystic day,
+  Though vile machine-made commerce clear the way--
+  Though nature losing shame should lose her veil,
+  And ghosts of buried angel-warriors wail
+  The fall of Heaven, and the relentless Sun
+  Smile on, as Abraham’s God forever dies--
+  Lord, give us Darwin’s eyes!
+
+
+
+
+THE VISIT TO MAB
+
+
+  When glad vacation time began
+    A snail-king said to his dear spouse,
+    “Come, let us lock our birch-bark house
+  And visit some important man.
+
+  “Each summer we have hoped to go
+    To see the sultan Gingerbread
+    Who wears chopped citron on his head
+  And currant love-locks in a row.
+
+  “And see his vizier Chocolate Bill
+    And Popcorn Man, his pale young priest.
+    They live twelve inches to the east
+  Behind the lofty brown-bread hill.”
+
+  His wife said: “Simple elegance
+    Is what we want. It is the mode
+    To take the little western road
+  To where the blue-grass fairies dance.
+
+  “I think the queen will recognize
+    Our atmosphere of wealth and ease.
+    My steel-grey shell is sure to please,
+  And she will fear your fiery eyes.”
+
+  And so they visited proud Mab.
+    The firs were laughing overhead,
+    The chattering roses burned deep-red.
+  The snails were queer and dumb and drab.
+
+  The contrast made them quite the thing.
+    A setting spells success at times.
+    Mab gave the queen a book of rhymes.
+  A tissue-cap she gave the king,
+
+  Like caps the children wear for sport.
+    And vainer than he well could say
+    He called gay Mab his “pride and stay,”
+  With pompous speeches to the court.
+
+  They journeyed home, made young indeed,
+    But opening the book of song
+    Each poem looked so deep and long
+  They could not bear to start to read.
+
+
+
+
+THE SONG OF THE STURDY SNAILS
+
+
+  Gristly bare-bone fingers
+  On my window-pane--
+  The drumbeat of a ghost
+  Louder than the rain!
+
+  Oh frail, storm-shaken hut--
+  No candle, not a spark
+  Of fire within the grate.
+  Oh the lonely dark!
+
+  Trembling by the window
+  I watched the lightning flash
+  And saw the little villains
+  Upon the outer sash
+
+  And other small musicians
+  Upon the window-pane--
+  Garden snails, a-dragging
+  Their shells amid the rain!
+
+  The thunder blew away.
+  My happiness began.
+  Over the dripping darkness
+  Rills of moonlight ran.
+
+  In the silence rich
+  The scratching of the shells
+  Became a crooning music
+  A lazy peal of bells.
+
+  So fearless in the night
+  My sluggard brothers bold!
+  Your fancies swift and glowing;
+  Your footsteps slow and cold!
+
+  My happy beggar-brothers
+  Tuning all together,
+  Playing on the pane
+  Praise of stormy weather!
+
+  Upon a ragged pillow
+  At last I laid my head
+  And watched the sparkling window
+  And the wan light on my bed.
+
+  Through the glass came flying
+  Dream snails, with leafy wings--
+  Glided on the moonbeams--
+  And all the snails were kings!
+
+  With crowns of pollen yellow
+  And eyes of firefly gold
+  Behold--to crooning music
+  Their coiling wings unrolled!
+
+  These tiny kings I saw
+  Reigning over white
+  Bisque jars of fairy flowers
+  In sturdy proud delight.
+
+  These jars in fairyland
+  Await good snails that keep
+  Vigils on the windows
+  Of beggars fast asleep.
+
+
+
+
+ANOTHER WORD ON THE SCIENTIFIC ASPIRATION
+
+
+  “There’s machinery in the butterfly.
+  There’s a mainspring to the bee.
+  There’s hydraulics to a daisy
+  And contraptions to a tree.
+
+  “If we could see the birdie
+  That makes the chirping sound
+  With psycho-analytic eyes,
+  And x ray, scientific eyes,
+  We could see the wheels go round.”
+
+  _And I hope all men
+  Who think like this
+  Will soon lie
+  Underground._
+
+
+
+
+DANCING FOR A PRIZE
+
+
+  Three fairies by the Sangamon
+    Were dancing for a prize.
+  The rascals were alike indeed
+    As they danced with drooping eyes.
+  I gave the magic acorn
+    To the one I loved the best,
+  The imp that made me think of her
+    My heart’s eternal guest,
+  My lady of the tea-rose, my lady far away,
+    Queen of the fleets of No-Man’s-Land
+  That sail to old Cathay.
+    How did the trifler hint of her?
+  Ah, when the dance was done
+    They begged me for the acorn,
+  Laughing every one.
+    Two had eyes of midnight,
+  And one had golden eyes,
+    And I gave the golden acorn
+  To the scamp with golden eyes.
+    Confessor Dandelion,
+  My priest so grey and wise
+    Whispered when I gave it
+  To the girl with golden eyes:
+    “She is like your Queen of Glory
+  On China’s holy strand
+    Who drove the coiling dragons
+  Like doves before her hand.”
+
+
+
+
+COLD SUNBEAMS
+
+
+  The Question:
+  “Tell me, where do fairy queens
+  Find their bridal veils?”
+
+  The Answer:
+  “If you were now a fairy queen
+  Then I, your faithless page and bold
+  Would win the realm by winning you.
+  Your veil would be transparent gold
+  White magic spiders wove for you
+  At cold grey dawn, from sunbeams cold
+  While robins sang amid the dew.”
+
+
+
+
+FOR ALL WHO EVER SENT LACE VALENTINES
+
+
+  The little-boy lover
+  And little-girl lover
+  Met the first time
+  At the house of a friend.
+  And great the respect
+  Of the little-boy lover.
+  The awe and the fear of her
+  Stayed to the end.
+
+  The little girl chattered
+  Incessantly chattered,
+  Hardly would look
+  When he tried to be nice.
+  But deeply she trembled
+  The little-girl lover,
+  Eaten with flame
+  While she tried to be ice.
+
+  The lion of loving
+  The terrible lion
+  Woke in the two
+  Long before they could wed.
+  The world said: “Child hearts
+  You must keep till the summer.
+  It is not allowed
+  That your hearts should be red.”
+
+  If only a wizard
+  A kindly grey wizard
+  Had built them a house
+  In a cave underground.
+  With an emerald door,
+  And honey to eat!
+  But it seemed that no wizard
+  Was waiting around.
+
+  Oh children with fancies,
+  The rarest of notions,
+  The rarest of passions
+  And hopes here below!
+  Many a child,
+  His young heart too timid
+  Has fled from his princess
+  No other to know.
+
+  I have seen them with faces
+  Like books out of Heaven,
+  With messages there
+  The harsh world should read,
+  The lions and roses and lilies of love,
+  Its tender, mystic, tyrannical need.
+
+  Were I god of the village
+  My servants should mate them.
+  Were I priest of the church
+  I would set them apart.
+  If the wide state were mine
+  It should live for such darlings,
+  And hedge with all shelter
+  The child-wedded heart.
+
+
+
+
+MY LADY IS COMPARED TO A YOUNG TREE
+
+
+  When I see a young tree
+  In its white beginning,
+  With white leaves
+  And white buds
+  Barely tipped with green,
+  In the April weather,
+  In the weeping sunshine--
+  Then I see my lady,
+  My democratic queen,
+  Standing free and equal
+  With the youngest woodland sapling
+  Swaying, singing in the wind,
+  Delicate and white:
+  Soul so near to blossom,
+  Fragile, strong as death;
+  A kiss from far off Eden,
+  A flash of Judgment’s trumpet--
+  April’s breath.
+
+
+
+
+TO EVE, MAN’S DREAM OF WIFEHOOD AS DESCRIBED BY MILTON
+
+
+  Darling of Milton--when that marble man
+  Saw you in shadow, coming from God’s hand
+  Serene and young, did he not chant for you
+  Praises more quaint than he could understand?
+
+  “To justify the ways of God to man”--
+  So, self-deceived, his printed purpose runs.
+  His love for you is the true key to him,
+  And Uriel and Michael were your sons.
+
+  Your bosom nurtured his Urania.
+  Your meek voice, piercing through his midnight sleep
+  Shook him far more than silver chariot wheels
+  Or rattling shields, or trumpets of the deep.
+
+  Titan and lover, could he be content
+  With Eden’s narrow setting for your spell?
+  You wound soft arms around his brows. He smiled
+  And grimly for your home built Heaven and Hell.
+
+  That was his posy. A strange gift, indeed.
+  We bring you what we can, not what is fit.
+  Eve, dream of wifehood! Each man in his way
+  Serves you with chants according to his wit.
+
+
+
+
+A KIND OF SCORN
+
+
+  You do not know my pride
+  Or the storm of scorn I ride.
+
+  I am too proud to kiss you and leave you
+  Without wonders
+  Spreading round you like flame.
+  I am too proud to leave you
+  Without love
+  Haunting your very name:
+  Until you bear the Grail
+  Above your head in splendor
+  O child, dear and pale.
+  I am too proud to leave you
+  Though we part forevermore
+  Till all your thoughts
+  Go up toward Glory’s door.
+
+  Oh, I am but a sinner proud and poor,
+  Utterly without merit
+  To help you climb in wonder
+  A stair toward Heaven’s door--
+  Except that I have prayed my God,
+  And He will give the Grail,
+  And you will mourn no longer,
+  Beset, confused, and pale.
+  And God will lift you far on high,
+  The while I pray and pray
+  Until the hour I die.
+  The effectual fervent prayer availeth much.
+  And my first prayer ascends this proud harsh day.
+
+
+
+
+HARPS IN HEAVEN
+
+
+  I will bring you great harps in Heaven,
+  Made of giant shells
+  From the jasper sea.
+  With a thousand burnt up years behind,
+  What then of the gulf from you to me?
+  It will be but the width of a thread,
+  Or the narrowest leaf of our sheltering tree.
+
+  You dare not refuse my harps in Heaven.
+  Or angels will mock you, and turn away.
+  Or with angel wit,
+  Will praise your eyes,
+  And your pure Greek lips, and bid you play,
+  And sing of the love from them to you,
+  And then of my poor flaming heart
+  In the far off earth, when the years were new.
+
+  I will bring you such harps in Heaven
+  That they will shake at your touch and breath,
+  Whose threads are rainbows,
+  Seventy times seven,
+  Whose voice is life, and silence death.
+
+
+
+
+THE CELESTIAL CIRCUS
+
+
+  In Heaven, if not on earth,
+  You and I will be dancing.
+  I will whirl you over my head,
+  A torch and a flag and a bird,
+  A hawk that loves my shoulder,
+  A dove with plumes outspread.
+  We will whirl for God when the trumpets
+  Speak the millennial word.
+
+  We will howl in praise of God,
+  Dervish and young cyclone.
+  We will ride in the joy of God
+  On circus horses white.
+  Your feet will be white lightning,
+  Your spangles white and regal,
+  We will leap from the horses’ backs
+  To the cliffs of day and night.
+
+  We will have our rest in the pits of sleep
+  When the darkness heaps upon us,
+  And buries us for æons
+  Till we rise like grass in the spring.
+  We will come like dandelions,
+  Like buttercups and crocuses,
+  And all the winter of our sleep
+  But make us storm and sing.
+
+  We will tumble like swift foam
+  On the wave-crests of old ghostland,
+  And dance on the crafts of doom,
+  And wrestle on the moon.
+  And Saturn and his triple ring
+  Will be our tinsel circus,
+  Till all sad wraiths of yesterday
+  With the stars rejoice and croon.
+
+  O dancer, love undying,
+  My soul, my swan, my eagle,
+  The first of our million dancing years
+  Dawns, dawns soon.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRE-LADDIE, LOVE
+
+
+  The door has a bolt.
+  The window a grate.
+  O friend we are trapped
+  In the factory, Fate.
+  The flames pierce the ceiling.
+  The brands heap the floor.
+  But listen, dear heart:
+  A song at the door!
+  The forcing of bolts,
+  The hewing of oak!
+  A sword breaks the lock
+  With one cleaving stroke.
+  Naked and fair
+  Unscathed and wild
+  Behold he comes swiftly,
+  An elfin-eyed child.
+  The fire-laddie, _Love_,
+  Is our hero this night,
+  As he walks on the embers
+  His plumes are cloud white.
+  He sings of the lightning
+  And snow of desire,
+  His step parts the veil
+  Of the factory fire.
+  Oh his chubby child hands,
+  Oh his long curls agleam,
+  From out their soft tossing
+  Comes thunder and dream.
+  Our fire-laddie, Love,
+  At the last moment here,
+  To bear us away
+  To a road without fear,
+  To the dark, to the wind,
+  To the mist, to the dawn,
+  Where the lilac blooms nod
+  By the rain renewed lawn.
+  To a land of deep knowledge
+  Our tired feet are led,
+  While the stars of new morning
+  Still glint overhead.
+  Sweet Love walks between us
+  With silences long.
+  His step is the music.
+  The day is the song.
+
+
+
+
+FOURTH SECTION
+
+RHYMES CONCERNING THE LATE WORLD WAR AND THE NEXT WAR
+
+
+
+
+IN MEMORY OF MY FRIEND JOYCE KILMER, POET AND SOLDIER
+
+    _Written Armistice Day, November eleventh, 1918_
+
+
+  I hear a thousand chimes,
+  I hear ten thousand chimes,
+  I hear a million chimes
+  In Heaven.
+  I see a thousand bells,
+  I see ten thousand bells,
+  I see a million bells
+  In Heaven.
+
+  Listen, friends and companions.
+  Through the deep heart,
+  Sweetly they toll.
+
+  I hear the chimes
+  Of tomorrow ring,
+  The azure bells
+  Of eternal love....
+  I see the chimes
+  Of tomorrow swing:
+  On unseen ropes
+  They gleam above.
+
+  Rejoice, friends and companions.
+  Through the deep heart
+  Sweetly they toll.
+
+  They shake the sky
+  They blaze and sing.
+  They fill the air
+  Like larks a-wing,
+  Like storm-clouds
+  Turned to blue-bell flowers.
+  Like Spring gone mad,
+  Like stars in showers.
+
+  Join the song,
+  Friends and companions.
+  Through the deep heart
+  Sweetly they toll.
+
+  And some are near,
+  And touch my hand,
+  Small whispering blooms
+  From Beulah Land.
+  Giants afar
+  Still touch the sky,
+  Still give their giant
+  Battle-cry.
+
+  Join hands, friends and companions.
+  Through the deep heart
+  Sweetly they toll.
+
+  And every bell
+  Is voice and breath
+  Of a spirit
+  Who has conquered death,
+  In this great war
+  Has given all,
+  Like Kilmer
+  Heard the hero-call.
+
+  Join hands,
+  Poets,
+  Friends,
+  Companions.
+  Through the deep heart
+  Sweetly they toll!
+
+
+
+
+THE TIGER ON PARADE
+
+
+  The Sparrow and the Robin on a toot
+  Drunk on honey-dew and violet’s breath
+  Came knocking at the brazen bars of Death.
+  And Death, no other than a tiger caged,
+  In a street parade that had no ending,
+  Roared at them and clawed at them and raged--
+  Whose chirping was the height of their offending.
+  His paws too big--their fluttering bodies small
+  Escaped unscathed above the City Hall.
+
+  They learned new dances, scattering birdy laughter,
+  And filled again their throats with honey-dew.
+  A Maltese kitten killed them, two days after.
+  But they had had their fill. It was enough:--
+  Had quarreled, made up, on many a lilac swayed,
+  Darted through sunny thunder-clouds and rainbows,
+  High above that tiger on parade.
+
+
+
+
+THE FEVER CALLED WAR
+
+
+  Love and Kindness,
+  Two sad shadows
+  Over the old nations,
+  Bigger than the world,
+  Mists above a grave!
+
+  Says Love, the shadow
+  To Kindness the shadow:--
+  “I weep for the children
+  No miracle will save.
+  All the little children
+  Are down with the fever,
+  Thousands upon thousands,
+  Blind and deaf and mad.
+  Their fathers are all dead,
+  And the same raging fever
+  Is burning up the children,
+  The babes that once were glad.”
+
+
+
+
+STANZAS IN JUST THE RIGHT TONE FOR THE SPIRITED GENTLEMEN WHO WOULD
+CONQUER MEXICO
+
+
+ALEXANDER
+
+  Would I might waken in you Alexander,
+  Murdering the nations wickedly,
+  Flooding his time with blood remorselessly,
+  Sowing new Empires, where the Athenian light,
+  Knowledge and music, slay the Asian night,
+  And men behold Apollo in the sun.
+  God make us splendid, though by grievous wrong.
+  God make us fierce and strong.
+
+MOHAMMED
+
+  Would that on horses swifter than desire
+  We rode behind Mohammed ’round the zones
+  With swords unceasing, sowing fields of bones,
+  Till New America, ancient Mizraim,
+  Cry: “Allah is the God of Abraham.”
+  God make our host relentless as the sun,
+  Each soul your spear, your banner and your slave,
+  God help us to be brave.
+
+NAPOLEON
+
+  Would that the cold adventurous Corsican
+  Woke with new hope of glory, strong from sleep,
+  Instructed how to conquer and to keep
+  More justly, having dreamed awhile, yea crowned
+  With shining flowers, God-given; while the sound
+  Of singing continents, following the sun,
+  Calls freeborn men to guard Napoleon’s throne
+  Who makes the eternal hopes of man his own.
+
+
+
+
+THE MODEST JAZZ-BIRD
+
+
+  The Jazz-bird sings a barnyard song--
+    A cock-a-doodle bray,
+  A jingle-bells, a boiler works,
+    A he-man’s roundelay.
+
+  The eagle said, “My noisy son,
+    I send you out to fight!”
+  So the youngster spread his sunflower wings
+    And roared with all his might.
+
+  His headlight eyes went flashing
+    From Oregon to Maine;
+  And the land was dark with airships
+    In the darting Jazz-bird’s train.
+
+  Crossing the howling ocean,
+    His bell-mouth shook the sky;
+  And the Yankees in the trenches
+    Gave back the hue and cry.
+
+  And Europe had not heard the like--
+    And Germany went down!
+  The fowl of steel with clashing claws
+    Tore off the Kaiser’s crown.
+
+
+
+
+When the statue of Andrew Jackson before the White House in Washington
+is removed, America is doomed. The nobler days of America’s innocence,
+in which it was set up, always have a special tang for those who are
+tasty. But this is not all. It is only the America that has the courage
+of her complete past that can hold up her head in the world of the
+artists, priests and sages. It is for us to put the iron dog and deer
+back upon the lawn, the John Rogers group back into the parlor, and get
+new inspiration from these and from Andrew Jackson ramping in bronze
+replica in New Orleans, Nashville and Washington, and add to them a
+sense of humor, till it becomes a sense of beauty that will resist the
+merely dulcet and affettuoso.
+
+Please read Lorado Taft’s _History of American Sculpture_, pages
+123-127, with these matters in mind. I quote a few bits:
+
+“... The maker of the first equestrian statue in the history of
+American sculpture: Clark Mills.... Never having seen General Jackson
+or an equestrian statue, he felt himself incompetent ... the incident,
+however, made an impression on his mind, and he reflected sufficiently
+to produce a design which was the very one subsequently executed....
+Congress appropriated the old cannon captured by General Jackson....
+Having no notion, nor even suspicion of a dignified sculptural
+treatment of a theme, the clever carpenter felt, nevertheless, the need
+of a feature.... He built a colossal horse, adroitly balanced on the
+hind legs, and America gazed with bated breath. Nobody knows or cares
+whether the rider looks like Jackson or not.
+
+“The extraordinary pose of the horse absorbs all attention, all
+admiration. There may be some subconscious feeling of respect for a
+rider who holds on so well....”
+
+
+
+
+THE STATUE OF OLD ANDREW JACKSON
+
+_Written while America was in the midst of the war with Germany,
+August, 1918_
+
+
+  Andrew Jackson was eight feet tall.
+  His arm was a hickory limb and a maul.
+  His sword was so long he dragged it on the ground.
+  Every friend was an equal. Every foe was a hound.
+
+  Andrew Jackson was a Democrat,
+  Defying kings in his old cocked hat.
+  His vast steed rocked like a hobby horse.
+  But he sat straight up. He held his course.
+
+  He licked the British at Noo Orleens;
+  Beat them out of their elegant jeans.
+  He piled the cotton-bales twenty feet high,
+  And he snorted “freedom,” and it flashed from his eye.
+
+  And the American Eagle swooped through the air,
+  And cheered when he heard the Jackson swear:--
+  “By the Eternal, let them come.
+  Sound Yankee Doodle. Let the bullets hum.”
+
+  And his wild men, straight from the woods, fought on
+  Till the British fops were dead and gone.
+
+  And now Old Andrew Jackson fights
+  To set the sad big world to rights.
+  He joins the British and the French.
+  He cheers up the Italian trench.
+  He’s making Democrats of these,
+  And freedom’s sons of Japanese.
+  His hobby horse will gallop on
+  Till all the infernal Huns are gone.
+
+  Yes,
+  Yes,
+  Yes!
+  By the Eternal!
+  Old Andrew Jackson!
+
+
+
+
+SEW THE FLAGS TOGETHER
+
+
+  Great wave of youth, ere you be spent,
+  Sweep over every monument
+  Of caste, smash every high imperial wall
+  That stands against the new World State,
+  And overwhelm each ravening hate,
+  And heal, and make blood-brothers of us all.
+  Nor let your clamor cease
+  Till ballots conquer guns.
+  Drum on for the world’s peace
+  Till the Tory power is gone.
+  Envenomed lame old age
+  Is not our heritage,
+  But springtime’s vast release, and flaming dawn.
+
+  Peasants, rise in splendor
+  And your accounting render
+  Ere the lords unnerve your hand!
+  Sew the flags together.
+  Do not tear them down.
+  Hurl the worlds together.
+  Dethrone the wallowing monster
+  And the clown.
+  Resolving:--
+  “Only that shall grow
+  In Balkan furrow, Chinese row,
+  That blooms, and is perpetually young.”
+  That only be held fine and dear
+  That brings heart-wisdom year by year
+  And puts this thrilling word upon the tongue:
+  “The United States of Europe, Asia, and the World.”
+
+  “Youth will be served,” now let us cry.
+  Hurl the referendum.
+  Your fathers, five long years ago,
+  Resolved to strike, too late.
+  Now
+  Sun-crowned crowds
+  Innumerable,
+  Of boys and girls
+  Imperial,
+  With your patchwork flag of brotherhood
+  On high,
+  With every silk
+  In one flower-banner whirled--
+  Rise,
+  Citizens of one tremendous state,
+  The United States of Europe, Asia, and the World.
+
+  The dawn is rose-drest and impearled.
+  The guards of privilege are spent.
+  The blood-fed captains nod.
+  So Saxon, Slav, French, German,
+  Rise,
+  Yankee, Chinese, Japanese,
+  All the lands, all the seas,
+  With the blazing rainbow flag unfurled,
+  Rise, rise,
+  Take the sick dragons by surprise,
+  Highly establish,
+  In the name of God,
+  The United States of Europe, Asia, and the World.
+
+    Written for William Stanley Braithwaite’s Victory Anthology
+    issued at once, after Armistice Day, November, 1918.
+
+
+
+
+JUSTINIAN
+
+(_The Tory Reply_)
+
+
+  Nay, let us have the marble peace of Rome,
+  Recorded in the Code Justinian,
+  Till Pagan Justice shelters man from man.
+  Fanatics snarl like mongrel dogs; the code
+  Will build each custom like a Roman Road,
+  Direct as daylight, clear-eyed as the sun.
+  God grant all crazy world-disturbers cease.
+  God give us honest peace.
+
+
+
+
+THE VOICE OF ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI
+
+
+  I saw St. Francis by a stream
+  Washing his wounds that bled.
+  The aspens quivered overhead.
+  The silver doves flew round.
+
+  Weeping and sore dismayed
+  “Peace, peace,” St. Francis prayed.
+
+  But the soft doves quickly fled.
+  Carrion crows flew round.
+  An earthquake rocked the ground.
+
+  “War, war,” the west wind said.
+
+
+
+
+IN WHICH ROOSEVELT IS COMPARED TO SAUL
+
+    _Written and published in 1913, and republished five years
+    later, in The Boston Transcript, on the death of Roosevelt._
+
+
+  Where is David?... Oh God’s people
+  Saul has passed, the good and great.
+  Mourn for Saul, the first anointed,
+  Head and shoulders o’er the state.
+
+  He was found among the prophets:
+  Judge and monarch, merged in one.
+  But the wars of Saul are ended,
+  And the works of Saul are done.
+
+  Where is David, ruddy shepherd,
+  God’s boy-king for Israel?
+  Mystic, ardent, dowered with beauty,
+  Singing where still waters dwell?
+
+  Prophet, find that destined minstrel
+  Wandering on the range today,
+  Driving sheep, and crooning softly
+  Psalms that cannot pass away.
+
+  “David waits,” the prophet answers,
+  “In a black, notorious den,
+  In a cave upon the border,
+  With four hundred outlaw men.
+
+  “He is fair and loved of women,
+  Mighty hearted, born to sing:
+  Thieving, weeping, erring, praying,
+  Radiant, royal rebel-king.
+
+  “He will come with harp and psaltry,
+  Quell his troop of convict swine,
+  Quell his mad-dog roaring rascals,
+  Witching them with tunes divine.
+
+  “They will ram the walls of Zion,
+  They will win us Salem hill,
+  All for David, shepherd David,
+  Singing like a mountain rill.”
+
+
+
+
+HAIL TO THE SONS OF ROOSEVELT
+
+    “_Out of the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong came
+    forth sweetness._”--_Samson’s riddle._
+
+
+  There is no name for brother
+  Like the name of Jonathan
+  The son of Saul.
+  And so we greet you all:
+  The sons of Roosevelt--
+  The sons of Saul.
+
+  Four brother Jonathans went out to battle.
+  Let every Yankee poet sing their praise
+  Through all the days--
+  What David sang of Saul
+  And Jonathan, beloved more than all.
+
+  God grant such sons, begot of our young men,
+  To make each generation glad again.
+  Let sons of Saul be springing up again:
+  Out of the eater, fire and power again.
+  From the lost lion, honey for all men.
+
+  I hear the sacred Rocky Mountains call,
+  I hear the Mississippi Jordan call:
+  “_Stand up, America, and praise them all,
+  Living and dead, the fine young sons of Saul!_”
+
+
+
+
+THE SPACIOUS DAYS OF ROOSEVELT
+
+
+  These were the spacious days of Roosevelt.
+  Would that among you chiefs like him arose
+  To win the wrath of our united foes,
+  To chain King Mammon in the donjon-keep,
+  To rouse our godly citizens that sleep
+  Till as one soul, we shout up to the sun
+  The battle-yell of freedom and the right--
+  “Lord, let good men unite.”
+
+  Nay, I would have you lonely and despised.
+  Statesmen whom only statesmen understand,
+  Artists whom only artists can command,
+  Sages whom all but sages scorn, whose fame
+  Dies down in lies, in synonyms for shame
+  With the best populace beneath the sun.
+  God give us tasks that martyrs can revere,
+  Still too much hated to be whispered here.
+
+  Would we might drink, with knowledge high and kind
+  The hemlock cup of Socrates the king,
+  Knowing right well we know not anything,
+  With full life done, bowing before the law,
+  Binding young thinkers’ hearts with loyal awe,
+  And fealty fixed as the ever-enduring sun--
+  God let us live, seeking the highest light,
+  God help us die aright.
+
+  Nay, I would have you grand, and still forgotten,
+  Hid like the stars at noon, as he who set
+  The Egyptian magic of man’s alphabet;
+  Or that far Coptic, first to dream in pain
+  That dauntless souls cannot by death be slain--
+  Conquering for all men then, the fearful grave.
+  God keep us hid, yet vaster far than death.
+  God help us to be brave.
+
+
+
+
+FIFTH SECTION
+
+RHYMES OF THE MIDDLE WEST AND SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS
+
+
+
+
+WHEN THE MISSISSIPPI FLOWED IN INDIANA
+
+_Inscribed to Bruce Campbell, who read_ Tom Sawyer _with me in the old
+house_
+
+
+  Beneath Time’s roaring cannon
+  Many walls fall down.
+  But though the guns break every stone,
+  Level every town:--
+  Within our Grandma’s old front hall
+  Some wonders flourish yet:--
+  The Pavement of Verona,
+  Where stands young Juliet,
+  The roof of Blue-beard’s palace,
+  And Kublai Khan’s wild ground,
+  The cave of young Aladdin,
+  Where the jewel-flowers were found,
+  And the garden of old Sparta
+  Where little Helen played,
+  The grotto of Miranda
+  That Prospero arrayed,
+  And the cave, by the Mississippi,
+  Where Becky Thatcher strayed.
+
+  On that Indiana stairway
+  Gleams Cinderella’s shoe.
+  Upon that mighty mountainside
+  Walks Snow-white in the dew.
+  Upon that grassy hillside
+  Trips shining Nicolette:--
+  That stairway of remembrance
+  Time’s cannon will not get--
+  That chattering slope of glory
+  Our little cousins made,
+  That hill by the Mississippi
+  Where Becky Thatcher strayed.
+
+  Spring beauties on that cliffside,
+  Love in the air,
+  While the soul’s deep Mississippi
+  Sweeps on, forever fair.
+  And he who enters in the cave,
+  Nothing shall make afraid,
+  The cave by the Mississippi
+  Where Tom and Becky strayed.
+
+
+
+
+THE FAIRY FROM THE APPLE-SEED
+
+
+  Oh apple-seed I planted in a silly shallow place
+  In a bowl of wrought silver, with Sangamon earth within it,
+  Oh baby tree that came, without an apple on it,
+  A tree that grew a tiny height, but thickened on apace,
+  With bossy glossy arms, and leaves of trembling lace.
+
+  One night the trunk was rent, and the heavy bowl rocked round,
+  The boughs were bending here and there, with a curious locust sound,
+  And a tiny dryad came, from out the doll tree,
+  And held the boughs in ivory hands,
+  And waved her black hair round,
+  And climbed, and ate with merry words
+  The sudden fruit it bore.
+  And in the leaves she hides and sings
+  And guards my study door.
+
+  She guards it like a watchdog true
+  And robbers run away.
+  Her eyes are lifted spears all night,
+  But dove-eyes in the day.
+
+  And she is stranger, stronger
+  Than the funny human race.
+  Lovelier her form, and holier her face.
+  She feeds me flowers and fruit
+  With a quaint grace.
+  She dresses in the apple-leaves
+  As delicate as lace.
+  This girl that came from Sangamon earth
+  In a bowl of silver bright
+  From an apple-seed I planted in a silly shallow place.
+
+
+
+
+A HOT TIME IN THE OLD TOWN
+
+
+  Guns salute, and crows and pigeons fly,
+  Bronzed, Homeric bards go striding by,
+  Shouting “Glory” amid the cannonade:--
+  It is the cross-roads
+  Resurrection
+  Parade.
+
+  Actors, craftsmen, builders, join the throng,
+  Painters, sculptors, florists tramp along,
+  Farm-boys prance, in tinsel, tin and jade:--
+  It is the cross-roads
+  Love and Laughter
+  Crusade.
+
+  The sun is blazing big as all the sky,
+  The mustard-plant with the sunflower climbing high,
+  With the Indian corn in fiery plumes arrayed:--
+  It is the cross-roads
+  Love and Beauty
+  Crusade.
+
+  Free and proud and mellow jamboree,
+  Roar and foam upon the prairie sea,
+  Tom turkeys sing the sun a serenade:--
+  It is the cross-roads
+  Resurrection
+  Parade.
+
+  Our sweethearts dance, with wands as white as milk,
+  With veils of gold and robes of silver silk,
+  Their caps in velvet pansy-patterns made:--
+  It is the cross-roads
+  Resurrection
+  Parade.
+
+  Wandering ’round the shrines we understand,
+  Waving oak-boughs cheap and close at hand,
+  And field-flowers fair, for which no man has paid:--
+  It is the cross-roads
+  Love and Beauty
+  Crusade.
+
+  Hieroglyphic marchers here we bring.
+  Rich inscriptions strut and talk and sing.
+  A scroll to read, a picture-word brigade:--
+  It is the cross-roads
+  Love and Laughter
+  Crusade.
+
+  Swans for symbols deck the banners rare,
+  Mighty acorn-signs command the air,
+  For hearts of oak, by flying beauty swayed:--
+  It is the cross-roads
+  Resurrection
+  Parade.
+
+  The flags are big, like rainbows flashing ’round,
+  They spread like sails, and lift us from the ground,
+  Star-born ships, that have come in masquerade:--
+  It is the cross-roads
+  Resurrection
+  Parade.
+
+
+
+
+THE DREAM OF ALL THE SPRINGFIELD WRITERS
+
+
+  I’ll haunt this town, though gone the maids and men,
+  The darling few, my friends and loves today.
+  My ghost returns, bearing a great sword-pen
+  When far off children of their children play.
+
+  That pen will drip with moonlight and with fire.
+  I’ll write upon the church-doors and the walls.
+  And reading there, young hearts shall leap the higher
+  Though drunk already with their own love-calls.
+
+  Still led of love and arm in arm, strange gold
+  Shall find in tracing the far-speeding track
+  The dauntless war-cries that my sword-pen bold
+  Shall carve on terraces and tree-trunks black--
+
+  On tree-trunks black beneath the blossoms white:--
+  Just as the phosphorent merman, bound for home
+  Jewels his fire-path in the tides at night
+  While hurrying sea-babes follow through the foam.
+
+  And in December when the leaves are dead
+  And the first snow has carpeted the street
+  While young cheeks flush a healthful Christmas red
+  And young eyes glisten with youth’s fervor sweet--
+
+  My pen shall cut in winter’s snowy floor
+  Cries that in channelled glory leap and shine,
+  My Village Gospel, living evermore
+  Amid rejoicing, loyal friends of mine.
+
+
+
+
+THE SPRINGFIELD OF THE FAR FUTURE
+
+
+  Some day our town will grow old.
+  “She is wicked and raw,” men say,
+  “Awkward and brash and profane.”
+  But the years have a healing way.
+  The years of God are like bread,
+  Balm of Gilead and sweet.
+  And the soul of this little town
+  Our Father will make complete.
+
+  Some day our town will grow old,
+  Filled with the fullness of time,
+  Treasure on treasure heaped
+  Of beauty’s tradition sublime.
+  Proud and gay and grey
+  Like Hannah with Samuel blest.
+  Humble and girlish and white
+  Like Mary, the manger guest.
+
+  Like Mary the manger queen
+  Bringing the God of Light
+  Till Christmas is here indeed
+  And earth has no more of night,
+  And hosts of Magi come,
+  The wisest under the sun
+  Bringing frankincense and praise
+  For her gift of the Infinite One.
+
+
+
+
+AFTER READING THE SAD STORY OF THE FALL OF BABYLON
+
+
+  Oh Lady, my city, and new flower of the prairie,
+  What have we to do with this long time ago?
+  Oh lady love,
+  Bud of tomorrow,
+  With eyes that hold the hundred years
+  Yet to ebb and flow,
+  And breasts that burn
+  With great great grandsons
+  All their valor, all their tears,
+  A century hence shall know,
+  What have we to do
+  With this long time ago?
+
+
+
+
+ALEXANDER CAMPBELL
+
+“The present material universe, yet unrevealed in all its area, in
+all its tenantries, in all its riches, beauty and grandeur will be
+wholly regenerated. Of this fact we have full assurance since He that
+now sits upon the throne of the Universe has pledged His word for it,
+saying: ‘Behold I will create all things new,’ consequently, ‘new
+heavens, new earth,’ consequently, new tenantries, new employments,
+new pleasures, new joys, new ecstasies. There is a fullness of joy, a
+fullness of glory and a fullness of blessedness of which no living man,
+however enlightened, however enlarged, however gifted, ever formed or
+entertained one adequate conception.”
+
+The above is the closing paragraph in Alexander Campbell’s last essay
+in the _Millennial Harbinger_, which he had edited thirty-five years.
+This paragraph appeared November, 1865, four months before his death.
+
+
+
+
+I--MY FATHERS CAME FROM KENTUCKY
+
+  I was born in Illinois,--
+  Have lived there many days.
+  And I have Northern words,
+  And thoughts,
+  And ways.
+
+  But my great grandfathers came
+  To the west with Daniel Boone,
+  And taught his babes to read,
+  And heard the red-bird’s tune;
+
+  And heard the turkey’s call,
+  And stilled the panther’s cry,
+  And rolled on the blue-grass hills,
+  And looked God in the eye.
+
+  And feud and Hell were theirs;
+  Love, like the moon’s desire,
+  Love like a burning mine,
+  Love like rifle-fire.
+
+  I tell tales out of school
+  Till these Yankees hate my style.
+  Why should the young cad cry,
+  Shout with joy for a mile?
+
+  Why do I faint with love
+  Till the prairies dip and reel?
+  My heart is a kicking horse
+  Shod with Kentucky steel.
+
+  No drop of my blood from north
+  Of Mason and Dixon’s line.
+  And this racer in my breast
+  Tears my ribs for a sign.
+
+  But I ran in Kentucky hills
+  Last week. They were hearth and home....
+  And the church at Grassy Springs,
+  Under the red-bird’s wings
+  Was peace and honeycomb.
+
+
+
+
+II--WRITTEN IN A YEAR WHEN MANY OF MY PEOPLE DIED
+
+
+  I have begun to count my dead.
+  They wave green branches
+  Around my head,
+  Put their hands upon my shoulders,
+  Stand behind me,
+  Fly above me--
+  Presences that love me.
+  They watch me daily,
+  Murmuring, gravely, gaily,
+  Praising, reproving, readily.
+  And every year that company
+  Grows the greater, steadily.
+  And every day I count my dead
+  In robes of sunrise, blue and red.
+
+
+
+
+III--A RHYMED ADDRESS TO ALL RENEGADE CAMPBELLITES, EXHORTING THEM TO
+RETURN
+
+
+I
+
+  O prodigal son, O recreant daughter,
+  When broken by the death of a child
+  You called for the greybeard Campbellite elder,
+  Who spoke as of old in the wild.
+  His voice held echoes of the deep woods of Kentucky.
+  He towered in apostolic state,
+  While the portrait of Campbell emerged from the dark:
+  That genius beautiful and great.
+  And millennial trumpets poised, half lifted,
+  Millennial trumpets that wait.
+
+
+II
+
+  Like the woods of old Kentucky
+  The memories of childhood
+  Arch up to where gold chariot wheels go ringing,
+  To where the precious airs are terraces and roadways
+  For witnesses to God, forever singing.
+  Like Mammoth Cave, Kentucky, the memories of childhood
+  Go in and in forever underground
+  To river and fountain of whispering and mystery
+  And many a haunted hall without a sound.
+  To Indian hoards and carvings and graveyards unexplored.
+  To pits so deep a torch turns to a star
+  Whirling ’round and going down to the deepest rocks of earth,
+  To the fiery roots of forests brave and far.
+
+
+III
+
+  As I built cob-houses with small cousins on the floor:
+  (The talk was not meant for me).
+  Daguerreotypes shone. The back log sizzled
+  And my grandmother traced the family tree.
+  Then she swept to the proverbs of Campbell again.
+  And we glanced at the portrait of that most benign of men
+  Looking down through the evening gleam
+  With a bit of Andrew Jackson’s air,
+  More of Henry Clay
+  And the statesmen of Thomas Jefferson’s day:
+  With the face of age,
+  And the flush of youth,
+  And that air of going on, forever free.
+
+  For once upon a time ...
+  Long, long ago ...
+  In the holy forest land
+  There was a jolly pre-millennial band,
+  When that text-armed apostle, Alexander Campbell
+  Held deathless debate with the wicked “infi-del.”
+  The clearing was a picnic ground.
+  Squirrels were barking.
+  The seventeen year locust charged by.
+  Wild turkeys perched on high.
+  And millions of wild pigeons
+  Broke the limbs of trees,
+  Then shut out the sun, as they swept on their way.
+  But ah, the wilder dove of God flew down
+  To bring a secret glory, and to stay,
+  With the proud hunter-trappers, patriarchs that came
+  To break bread together and to pray
+  And oh the music of each living throbbing thing
+  When Campbell arose,
+  A pillar of fire,
+  The great high priest of the Spring.
+
+  He stepped from out the Brush Run Meeting House
+  To make the big woods his cathedrals,
+  The river his baptismal font,
+  The rolling clouds his bells,
+  The storming skies his waterfalls,
+  His pastures and his wells.
+  Despite all sternness in his word
+  Richer grew the rushing blood
+  Within our fathers’ coldest thought.
+  Imagination at the flood
+  Made flowery all they heard.
+  The deep communion cup
+  Of the whole South lifted up.
+
+  Who were the witnesses, the great cloud of witnesses
+  With which he was compassed around?
+  The heroes of faith from the days of Abraham
+  Stood on that blue-grass ground--
+  While the battle-ax of thought
+  Hewed to the bone
+  That the utmost generation
+  Till the world was set right
+  Might have an America their own.
+  For religion Dionysian
+  Was far from Campbell’s doctrine.
+  He preached with faultless logic
+  An American Millennium:
+  The social order
+  Of a realist and farmer
+  With every neighbor
+  Within stone wall and border.
+  And the tongues of flame came down
+  Almost in spite of him.
+  And now all but that Pentecost is dim.
+
+
+IV
+
+  I walk the forest by the Daniel Boone trail.
+  By guide posts quaint.
+  And the blazes are faint
+  In the rough old bark
+  Of silver poplars
+  And elms once slim,
+  Now monoliths tall.
+  I walk the aisle,
+  The cathedral hall
+  That is haunted still
+  With chariots dim,
+  Whispering still
+  With debate and call.
+
+  I come to you from Campbell.
+  Turn again, prodigal
+  Haunted by his name!
+  Artist, singer, builder,
+  The forest’s son or daughter!
+  You, the blasphemer
+  Will yet know repentance,
+  And Campbell old and grey
+  Will lead you to the dream-side
+  Of a pennyroyal river.
+  While your proud heart is shaken
+  Your confession will be taken
+  And your sins baptized away.
+
+  You, statesman-philosopher,
+  Sage with high conceit
+  Who speak of revolutions, in long words,
+  And guide the little world as best you may:
+  I come to you from Campbell
+  And say he rides your way
+  And will wait with you the coming of his day.
+  His horse still threads the forest,
+  Though the storm be roaring down....
+  Campbell enters now your log-house door.
+  Indeed you make him welcome, after many years,
+  While the children build cob-houses on the floor.
+
+  Let a thousand prophets have their due.
+  Let each have his boat in the sky.
+  But you were born for his secular millennium
+  With the old Kentucky forest blooming like Heaven,
+  And the red birds flying high.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber’s Notes
+
+Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations
+in hyphenation and accents have been standardised but all other
+spelling and punctuation remains unchanged.
+
+Italics are represented thus _italic_.
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN WHALES OF CALIFORNIA
+AND OTHER RHYMES IN THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE ***
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+<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The golden whales of California and other rhymes in the American language, by Vachel Lindsay</p>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
+at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
+are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
+country where you are located before using this eBook.
+</div>
+
+<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The golden whales of California and other rhymes in the American language</p>
+<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Vachel Lindsay</p>
+<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 7, 2023 [eBook #69969]</p>
+<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p>
+  <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: D A Alexander, Krista Zaleski and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p>
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN WHALES OF CALIFORNIA AND OTHER RHYMES IN THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE ***</div>
+
+
+
+
+<h1>  THE GOLDEN WHALES
+  OF CALIFORNIA</h1>
+
+<p class="center">  AND OTHER RHYMES IN THE
+  AMERICAN LANGUAGE
+</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter bbox">
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="LIST_OF_THE_BOOKS_OF_VACHEL_LINDSAY">LIST OF THE BOOKS OF VACHEL LINDSAY</h2>
+
+
+<p><i>Prose</i>:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>A Handy Guide for Beggars</p>
+
+<p>Adventures While Preaching the Gospel of Beauty</p>
+
+<p>The Art of the Moving Picture</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><i>Verse</i>:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>General William Booth Enters into Heaven and Other Poems</p>
+
+<p>The Congo and Other Poems</p>
+
+<p>The Chinese Nightingale and Other Poems</p>
+
+<p>The Golden Whales of California and Other Rhymes in the
+American Language</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>It is suggested that those who are interested in a complete view of
+these works should take them in the above order. They are all published
+by The Macmillan Company.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+
+
+
+<p class="center xbig">  THE GOLDEN WHALES
+  OF CALIFORNIA</p>
+
+<p class="center big">  AND OTHER RHYMES IN THE
+  AMERICAN LANGUAGE</p>
+
+<p class="center p4">  BY<br>
+  VACHEL LINDSAY</p>
+
+</div>
+<p class="center p6">  New York<br>
+  THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br>
+  1920</p>
+
+<p class="center p6">  <i>All rights reserved</i>
+</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p class="center">
+<span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1920,<br>
+<span class="smcap">By</span> THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br>
+<br>
+Set up and electrotyped. Published January, 1920.<br>
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p class="center">
+<span class="small">THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED<br>
+<br>
+TO</span><br>
+<br>
+ISADORA BENNETT,<br>
+<span class="small">CITIZEN OF SPRINGFIELD,</span><br>
+<br>
+because she helped me to write many of<br>
+the pieces, from the Golden Whales<br>
+of California to Alexander Campbell,<br>
+and because she danced<br>
+the Daniel Jazz.<br>
+</p>
+
+</div>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+
+
+<p>For permission to reprint some of the verses in this volume the author
+is indebted to the courtesy of the editors and publishers of <i>The
+Chicago Daily News</i>, <i>Poetry</i> (Chicago), <i>Contemporary
+Verse</i>, <i>The New Republic</i>, <i>The Forum</i>, Books and the
+Book World of the <i>New York Sun</i>, <i>Others</i>, <i>The Red Cross
+Magazine</i>, <i>Youth</i>, <i>The Independent</i>, and William Stanley
+Braithwaite’s anthology entitled “Victory.”</p>
+</div>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="TABLE_OF_CONTENTS">TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<table class="autotable">
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdr">PAGE</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Word on California, Photoplays, and Saint Francis</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_xiii">xiii</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdc" colspan="2">FIRST SECTION</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdc" colspan="2">THE LONGER PIECES, WITH INTERLUDES</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Golden Whales of California</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Kalamazoo</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">John L. Sullivan, the Strong Boy of Boston</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Bryan, Bryan, Bryan, Bryan</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Rameses II</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Moses</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Rhyme for All Zionists</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Meditation on the Sun</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Dante</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Comet of Prophecy</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Shantung, or the Empire of China Is Crumbling Down</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Last Song of Lucifer</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdc" colspan="2">SECOND SECTION</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdc" colspan="2">A RHYMED SCENARIO, SOME POEM GAMES, AND THE LIKE</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Doll’s “Arabian Nights”</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Lame Boy and the Fairy</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Blacksmith’s Serenade</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Apple Blossom Snow Blues</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Daniel Jazz</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_91">91</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">When Peter Jackson Preached in the Old Church</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Conscientious Deacon</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Davy Jones’ Door-Bell</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Sea Serpent Chantey</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Little Turtle</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdc" colspan="2">THIRD SECTION</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdc" colspan="2">COBWEBS AND CABLES</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Scientific Aspiration</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Visit to Mab</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Song of the Sturdy Snails</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Another Word on the Scientific Aspiration</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Dancing for a Prize</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Cold Sunbeams</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">For All Who Ever Sent Lace Valentines</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">My Lady Is Compared to a Young Tree</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">To Eve, Man’s Dream of Wifehood, as Described by Milton</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Kind of Scorn</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Harps in Heaven</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Celestial Circus</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Fire-Laddie, Love</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdc" colspan="2">FOURTH SECTION</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdc" colspan="2">RHYMES CONCERNING THE LATE WORLD WAR, AND THE NEXT WAR</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In Memory of My Friend Joyce Kilmer, Poet and Soldier</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Tiger on Parade</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Fever Called War</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Stanzas in Just the Right Tone for the Spirited Gentleman Who Would Conquer Mexico</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Modest Jazz-Bird</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_140">140</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Statue of Old Andrew Jackson</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Sew the Flags Together</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Justinian</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Voice of St. Francis of Assisi</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In Which Roosevelt Is Compared to Saul</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Hail to the Sons of Roosevelt</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Spacious Days of Roosevelt</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdc" colspan="2">FIFTH SECTION</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdc" colspan="2">RHYMES OF THE MIDDLE WEST AND SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">When the Mississippi Flowed in Indiana</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Fairy from the Apple-Seed</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Hot Time in the Old Town</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Dream of All of the Springfield Writers</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_166">166</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Springfield of the Far Future</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">After Reading the Sad Story of the Fall of Babylon</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Alexander Campbell</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</span>
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_WORD_ON_CALIFORNIA_PHOTOPLAYS_AND_SAINT_FRANCIS">A WORD ON CALIFORNIA, PHOTOPLAYS, AND SAINT FRANCIS</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>In <i>The Art of the Moving Picture</i>, in the chapter on California
+and America, I said, in part:</p>
+
+<p>“The moving picture captains of industry, like the California gold
+finders of 1849, making colossal fortunes in two or three years, have
+the same glorious irresponsibility and occasional need of the sheriff.
+They are Californians more literally than this. Around Los Angeles
+the greatest and most characteristic moving picture colonies are
+built. Each photoplay magazine has its California letter, telling of
+the putting up of new studios, and the transfer of actors with much
+slap-you-on-the-back personal gossip.</p>
+
+<p>“... Every type of the photoplay but the intimate is founded on some
+phase of the out-of doors. Being thus dependent, the plant can best be
+set up where there is no winter. Besides this, the Los Angeles region
+has the sea, the mountains, the desert, and many kinds of grove and
+field....</p>
+
+<p>“If the photoplay is the consistent utterance of its scenes, if the
+actors are incarnations of the land they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</span> walk upon, as they should
+be, California indeed stands a chance to achieve through the films an
+utterance of her own. Will this land, furthest west, be the first to
+capture the inner spirit of this newest and most curious of the arts?...</p>
+
+<p>“People who revere the Pilgrim Fathers of 1620 have often wished those
+gentlemen had moored their bark in the region of Los Angeles, rather
+than Plymouth Rock, that Boston had been founded there. At last that
+landing is achieved.</p>
+
+<p>“Patriotic art students have discussed with mingled irony and
+admiration the Boston domination of the only American culture of the
+nineteenth century, namely, literature. Indianapolis has had her day
+since then. Chicago is lifting her head. Nevertheless Boston still
+controls the text book in English, and dominates our high schools.
+Ironic feelings in this matter, on the part of western men, are based
+somewhat on envy and illegitimate cussedness, but are also grounded in
+the honest hope of a healthful rivalry. They want new romanticists and
+artists as indigenous to their soil as was Hawthorne to witch-haunted
+Salem, or Longfellow to the chestnuts of his native heath. Whatever may
+be said of the patriarchs, from Oliver Wendell Holmes to Amos Bronson
+Alcott, they were true sons<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</span> of the New England stone fences and
+meeting houses. They could not have been born or nurtured anywhere else
+on the face of the earth.</p>
+
+<p>“Some of us view with a peculiar thrill the prospect that Los Angeles
+may become the Boston of the photoplay. Perhaps it would be better to
+say the Florence, because California reminds one of colorful Italy,
+more than of any part of the United States. Yet there is a difference.</p>
+
+<p>“The present day man-in-the-street, man-about-town Californian has an
+obvious magnificence about him that is allied to the eucalyptus tree,
+the pomegranate....</p>
+
+<p>“The enemy of California says the state is magnificent, but thin. He
+declares it is as though it were painted on a Brobdingnagian piece of
+gilt paper, and he who dampens his finger and thrusts it through finds
+an alkali valley on the other side, the lonely prickly pear, and a heap
+of ashes from a deserted camp-fire. He says the citizens of this state
+lack the richness of an æsthetic and religious tradition. He says there
+is no substitute for time. But even these things make for coincidence.
+This apparent thinness California has in common with the routine
+photoplay, which is at times as shallow in its thought as the shadow
+it throws upon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</span> the screen. This newness California has in common with
+all photoplays. It is thrillingly possible for the state and the art to
+acquire spiritual tradition and depth together.</p>
+
+<p>“Part of the thinness of California is not only its youth, but the
+result of the physical fact that the human race is there spread over so
+many acres of land. “Good” Californians count their mines and enumerate
+their palm trees. They count the miles of their sea-coast, and the
+acres under cultivation and the height of the peaks, and revel in large
+statistics and the bigness generally, and forget how a few men rattle
+around in a great deal of scenery. They shout the statistics across
+the Rockies and the deserts to New York. The Mississippi valley is
+non-existent to the Californian. His fellow-feeling is for the opposite
+coast line. Through the geographical accident of separation by mountain
+and desert from the rest of the country, he becomes a mere shouter,
+hurrahing so assiduously that all variety in the voice is lost. Then he
+tries gestures, and becomes flamboyant, rococo.</p>
+
+<p>“These are the defects of the motion picture qualities. Also its
+panoramic tendency runs wild. As an institution it advertises itself
+with a sweeping gesture. It has the same passion for coast-line. These
+are not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvii">[Pg xvii]</span> the sins of New England. When, in the hands of masters, they
+become sources of strength, they will be a different set of virtues
+from those of New England....</p>
+
+<p>“When the Californian relegates the dramatic to secondary scenes, both
+in his life and his photoplay, and turns to the genuinely epic and
+lyric, he and this instrument may find their immortality together as
+New England found its soul in the essays of Emerson. Tide upon tide of
+Spring comes into California, through all four seasons. Fairy beauty
+overwhelms the lumbering grand-stand players. The tiniest garden
+is a jewelled pathway of wonder. But the Californian cannot shout
+‘orange blossoms, orange blossoms; heliotrope, heliotrope.’ He cannot
+boom forth ‘roseleaves, roseleaves’ so that he does their beauties
+justice. Here is where the photoplay can begin to give him a more
+delicate utterance. And he can go on into stranger things, and evolve
+all the <i>Splendor Films</i> into higher types, for the very name of
+California is splendor.... The California photoplaywright can base his
+<i>Crowd Picture</i> upon the city-worshipping mobs of San Francisco.
+He can derive his <i>Patriotic</i> and <i>Religious Splendors</i> from
+something older and more magnificent than the aisles of the Romanesque,
+namely: the groves of the giant redwoods.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xviii">[Pg xviii]</span></p>
+
+<p>“The campaigns for a beautiful nation could very well emanate from the
+west coast, where, with the slightest care, grow up models for all the
+world of plant arrangement and tree-luxury. Our mechanical east is
+reproved, our tension is relaxed, our ugliness is challenged, every
+time we look upon those garden-paths and forests.</p>
+
+<p>“It is possible for Los Angeles to lay hold of the motion picture as
+our national text book in art, as Boston appropriated to herself the
+guardianship of the national text book of literature. If California
+has a shining soul, and not merely a golden body, let her forget her
+seventeen year old melodramatics, and turn to her poets who understand
+the heart underneath the glory. Edwin Markham, the dean of American
+singers, Clark Ashton Smith, the young star-treader, George Sterling
+... have, in their songs, seeds of better scenarios than California has
+sent us....</p>
+
+<p>“California can tell us stories that are grim children of the tales of
+the wild Ambrose Bierce. Then there is the lovely unforgotten Nora May
+French, and the austere Edward Rowland Sill....”</p>
+
+<p>All this from <i>The Art of the Moving Picture</i> may serve to
+answer many questions I have been asked as to my general ideas in the
+realms of art and verse, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xix">[Pg xix]</span> it may more particularly elucidate my
+<i>personal attitude toward California</i>.</p>
+
+<p>One item that should perhaps chasten the native son, is that these
+motion picture people, so truly the hope of California, are not native
+sons or daughters.</p>
+
+<p>When I was in Los Angeles, visiting my cousin Ruby Vachel Lindsay, we
+discussed many of these items at great length, as we walked about the
+Los Angeles region together. I owe much of my conception of the more
+idealistic moods of the state to those conversations. Others who have
+shown me what might be called the Franciscan soul, of the Franciscan
+minority, are Professor and Mrs. E. Olan James, my host and hostess at
+Mills College. Another discriminating interpreter of the coast is that
+follower of Alexander Campbell, Peter Clark Macfarlane, to whom I owe
+much of my hope for a state that will some day gleam with spiritual and
+Franciscan, and not earthly gold.</p>
+
+<p>When I think of California, I think so emphatically of these people
+and the things they have to say to the native sons, and the rest,
+that if the discussion in this volume is not considered conclusive, I
+refer the reader to these, and to the California poets, and to motion
+picture people like Anita Loos and John Emerson, people who still dream
+of things that are not gilded, and know<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xx">[Pg xx]</span> the difference for instance,
+between St. Francis and Mammon. For a general view of those poets of
+California who make clear its spiritual gold, turn to “Golden Songs of
+the Golden State,” an anthology collected by Marguerite Wilkinson.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="FIRST_SECTION">FIRST SECTION<br>
+
+<span class="small">THE LONGER PIECES, WITH INTERLUDES</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_GOLDEN_WHALES_OF_CALIFORNIA">THE GOLDEN WHALES OF CALIFORNIA</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="center"><i>Part I. A Short Walk Along the Coast</i></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yes, I have walked in California,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the rivers there are blue and white.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Thunderclouds of grapes hang on the mountains.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bears in the meadows pitch and fight.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">(<i>Limber, double-jointed lords of fate,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Proud native sons of the Golden Gate.</i>)</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And flowers burst like bombs in California,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Exploding on tomb and tower.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the panther-cats chase the red rabbits,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Scatter their young blood every hour.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the cattle on the hills of California</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the very swine in the holes</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Have ears of silk and velvet</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And tusks like long white poles.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the very swine, big hearted,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Walk with pride to their doom</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For they feed on the sacred raisins</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where the great black agates loom.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Goshawfuls are Burbanked with the grizzly bears.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">At midnight their children come clanking up the stairs.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They wriggle up the canyons,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Nose into the caves,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And swallow the papooses and the Indian braves.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The trees climb so high the crows are dizzy</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Flying to their nests at the top.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While the jazz-birds screech, and storm the brazen beach</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the sea-stars turn flip flop.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The solid Golden Gate soars up to Heaven.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Perfumed cataracts are hurled</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">From the zones of silver snow</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To the ripening rye below,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To the land of the lemon and the nut</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the biggest ocean in the world.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While the Native Sons, like lords tremendous</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Lift up their heads with chants sublime,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the band-stands sound the trombone, the saxophone and xylophone</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the whales roar in perfect tune and time.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the chanting of the whales of California</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I have set my heart upon.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">It is sometimes a play by Belasco,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sometimes a tale of Prester John.</div>
+  </div>
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Part II. The Chanting of the Whales</i></p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">North to the Pole, south to the Pole</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The whales of California wallow and roll.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They dive and breed and snort and play</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the sun struck feed them every day</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Boatloads of citrons, quinces, cherries,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of bloody strawberries, plums and beets,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Hogsheads of pomegranates, vats of sweets,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the he-whales’ chant like a cyclone blares,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Proclaiming the California noons</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">So gloriously hot some days</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The snake is fried in the desert</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the flea no longer plays.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">There are ten gold suns in California</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When all other lands have one,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For the Golden Gate must have due light</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And persimmons be well-done.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the hot whales slosh and cool in the wash</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the fume of the hollow sea.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Rally and roam in the loblolly foam</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And whoop that their souls are free.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">(<i>Limber, double-jointed lords of fate,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Proud native sons of the Golden Gate.</i>)</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And they chant of the forty-niners</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Who sailed round the cape for their loot</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With guns and picks and washpans</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And a dagger in each boot.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">How the richest became the King of England,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The poorest became the King of Spain,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The bravest a colonel in the army,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And a mean one went insane.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The ten gold suns are so blasting</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The sunstruck scoot for the sea</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And turn to mermen and mermaids</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And whoop that their souls are free.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">(<i>Limber, double-jointed lords of fate,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Proud native sons of the Golden Gate.</i>)</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And they take young whales for their bronchos</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And old whales for their steeds,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Harnessed with golden seaweeds,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And driven with golden reeds.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They dance on the shore throwing roseleaves.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They kiss all night throwing hearts.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They fight like scalded wildcats</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When the least bit of fighting starts.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They drink, these belly-busting devils</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And their tremens shake the ground.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And then they repent like whirlwinds</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And never were such saints found.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They will give you their plug tobacco.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They will give you the shirts off their backs.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They will cry for your every sorrow,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Put ham in your haversacks.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And they feed the cuttlefishes, whales and skates</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With dates and figs in bales and crates:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Shiploads of sweet potatoes, peanuts, rutabagas,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Honey in hearts of gourds:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Grapefruits and oranges barrelled with apples,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And spices like sharp sweet swords.</div>
+  </div>
+
+
+<p class="center"><i>Part III. St. Francis of San Francisco</i></p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">But the surf is white, down the long strange coast</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With breasts that shake with sighs,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the ocean of all oceans</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Holds salt from weary eyes.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">St. Francis comes to his city at night</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And stands in the brilliant electric light</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And his swans that prophesy night and day</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Would soothe his heart that wastes away:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The giant swans of California</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That nest on the Golden Gate</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And beat through the clouds serenely</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And on St. Francis wait.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But St. Francis shades his face in his cowl</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And stands in the street like a lost grey owl.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He thinks of <i>gold</i> ... <i>gold</i>.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He sees on far redwoods</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Dewfall and dawning:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Deep in Yosemite</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Shadows and shrines:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He hears from far valleys</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Prayers by young Christians,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He sees their due penance</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">So cruel, so cold;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He sees them made holy,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">White-souled like young aspens</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With whimsies and fancies untold:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>The opposite of gold</i>.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the mighty mountain swans of California</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Whose eggs are like mosque domes of Ind,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Cry with curious notes</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That their eggs are good for boats</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To toss upon the foam and the wind.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He beholds on far rivers</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The venturesome lovers</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sailing for the sea</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">All night</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In swanshells white.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He sees them far on the ocean prevailing</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In a year and a month and a day of sailing</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Leaving the whales and their whoop unfailing</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">On through the lightning, ice and confusion</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">North of the North Pole,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">South of the South Pole,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And west of the west of the west of the west,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To the shore of Heartache’s Cure,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>The opposite of gold</i>,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">On and on like Columbus</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With faith and eggshell sure.</div>
+  </div>
+
+
+<p class="center"><i>Part IV. The Voice of the Earthquake</i></p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">But what is the earthquake’s cry at last</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Making St. Francis yet aghast:—</div>
+  </div>
+
+<div class="sidenote">From here on, the audience joins in the refrain:—“<i>gold,
+gold, gold</i>.”</div>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Oh the flashing cornucopia of haughty California</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Is <i>gold, gold, gold</i>.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Their brittle speech and their clutching reach</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Is <i>gold, gold, gold</i>.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">What is the fire-engine’s ding dong bell?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The burden of the burble of the bull-frog in the well?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Gold, gold, gold.</i></div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>What</i> is the color of the cup and plate</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And knife and fork of the chief of state?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Gold, gold, gold.</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>What</i> is the flavor of the Bartlett pear?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>What</i> is the savor of the salt sea air?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Gold, gold, gold.</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>What</i> is the color of the sea-girl’s hair?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Gold, gold, gold.</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the church of Jesus and the streets of Venus:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Gold, gold, gold.</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">What color are the cradle and the bridal bed?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">What color are the coffins of the great grey dead?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Gold, gold, gold.</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">What is the hue of the big whales’ hide?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Gold, gold, gold.</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">What is the color of their guts’ inside?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Gold, gold, gold.</i></div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“What is the color of the pumpkins in the moonlight?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Gold, gold, gold.</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The color of the moth and the worm in the starlight?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Gold, gold, gold.</i>”</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="KALAMAZOO">KALAMAZOO</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Once, in the city of Kalamazoo,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The gods went walking, two and two,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With the friendly phœnix, the stars of Orion,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The speaking pony and singing lion.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For in Kalamazoo in a cottage apart</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Lived the girl with the innocent heart.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Thenceforth the city of Kalamazoo</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Was the envied, intimate chum of the sun.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He rose from a cave by the principal street.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The lions sang, the dawn-horns blew,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the ponies danced on silver feet.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He hurled his clouds of love around;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Deathless colors of his old heart</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Draped the houses and dyed the ground.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh shrine of the wide young Yankee land,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Incense city of Kalamazoo,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That held, in the midnight, the priceless sun</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">As a jeweller holds an opal in hand!</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">From the awkward city of Oshkosh came</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Love the bully no whip shall tame,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bringing his gang of sinners bold.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And I was the least of his Oshkosh men;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But none were reticent, none were old.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And we joined the singing phœnix then,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And shook the lilies of Kalamazoo</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">All for one hidden butterfly.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bulls of glory, in cars of war</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We charged the boulevards, proud to die</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For her ribbon sailing there on high.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Our blood set gutters all aflame,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where the sun slept without any shame,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Cold rock till he must rise again.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She made great poets of wolf-eyed men—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The dear queen-bee of Kalamazoo,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With her crystal wings, and her honey heart.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We fought for her favors a year and a day</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">(Oh, the bones of the dead, the Oshkosh dead,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That were scattered along her pathway red!)</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And then, in her harum-scarum way,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She left with a passing traveller-man—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With a singing Irishman</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Went to Japan.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Why do the lean hyenas glare</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where the glory of Artemis had begun—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of Atalanta, Joan of Arc,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Lorna Doone, Rosy O’Grady,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Orphant Annie, all in one?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Who burned this city of Kalamazoo</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till nothing was left but a ribbon or two—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">One scorched phœnix that mourned in the dew,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Acres of ashes, a junk-man’s cart,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A torn-up letter, a dancing shoe,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">(And the bones of the valiant dead)?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Who burned this city of Kalamazoo—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Love-town, Troy-town Kalamazoo?</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">A harum-scarum innocent heart.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="JOHN_L_SULLIVAN_THE_STRONG_BOY_OF_BOSTON">JOHN L. SULLIVAN, THE STRONG BOY OF BOSTON</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Inscribed to Louis Untermeyer and Robert Frost</i></p>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">When I was nine years old, in 1889</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I sent my love a lacy Valentine.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Suffering boys were dressed like Fauntleroys,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While Judge and Puck in giant humor vied.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Gibson Girl came shining like a bride</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To spoil the cult of Tennyson’s Elaine.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Louisa Alcott was my gentle guide....</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then ...</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I heard a battle trumpet sound.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Nigh New Orleans</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Upon an emerald plain</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">John L. Sullivan</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The strong boy</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of Boston</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Fought seventy-five red rounds with Jake Kilrain.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">In simple sheltered 1889</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Nick Carter I would piously deride.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Over the Elsie Books I moped and sighed.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">St. Nicholas Magazine was all my pride,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While coarser boys on cellar doors would slide.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The grown ups bought refinement by the pound.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Rogers groups had not been told to hide.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">E. P. Roe had just begun to wane.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Howells was rising, surely to attain!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The nation for a jamboree was gowned:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Her hundredth year of roaring freedom crowned.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The British Lion ran and hid from Blaine</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The razzle-dazzle hip-hurrah from Maine.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The mocking bird was singing in the lane....</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yet ...</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“East side, west side, all around the town</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The tots sang: ‘Ring a rosie—’</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">‘London Bridge is falling down.’”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And ...</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">John L. Sullivan</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The strong boy</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of Boston</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Broke every single rib of Jake Kilrain.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">In dear provincial 1889,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Barnum’s bears and tigers could astound.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Ingersoll was called a most vile hound,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And named with Satan, Judas, Thomas Paine!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Robert Elsmere riled the pious brain.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Phillips Brooks for heresy was fried.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Boston Brahmins patronized Mark Twain.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The base ball rules were changed. That was a gain.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Pop Anson was our darling, pet and pride.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Native sons in Irish votes were drowned.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Tammany once more escaped its chain.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Once more each raw saloon was raising Cain.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The mocking bird was singing in the lane....</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yet ...</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“East side, west side, all around the town</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The tots sang: ‘Ring a rosie’</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">‘London Bridge is falling down.’”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And ...</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">John L. Sullivan</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The strong boy</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of Boston</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Finished the ring career of Jake Kilrain.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">In mystic, ancient 1889,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Wilson with pure learning was allied.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Roosevelt gave forth a chirping sound.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Stanley found old Emin and his train.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Stout explorers sought the pole in vain.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To dream of flying proved a man insane.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The newly rich were bathing in champagne.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Van Bibber Davis, at a single bound</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Displayed himself, and simpering glory found.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">John J. Ingalls, like a lonely crane</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Swore and swore, and stalked the Kansas plain.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Cronin murder was the ages’ stain.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Johnstown was flooded, and the whole world cried.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We heard not of Louvain nor of Lorraine,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Or a million heroes for their freedom slain.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of Armageddon and the world’s birth-pain—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The League of Nations, and the world one posy.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We <i>thought</i> the world would loaf and sprawl and mosey.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The gods of Yap and Swat were sweetly dozy.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We <i>thought</i> the far off gods of Chow had died.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The mocking bird was singing in the lane....</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yet ...</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“East side, west side, all around the town</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The tots sang: ‘Ring a rosie’</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">‘<span class="smcap">London Bridge is falling down</span>.’”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And ...</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">John L. Sullivan knocked out Jake Kilrain.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="BRYAN_BRYAN_BRYAN_BRYAN">BRYAN, BRYAN, BRYAN, BRYAN</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The Campaign of Eighteen Ninety-six, as Viewed at the Time by a
+Sixteen Year Old, etc.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="center">I</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">In a nation of one hundred fine, mob-hearted, lynching,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent6">relenting, repenting millions,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">There are plenty of sweeping, swinging, stinging, gorgeous</div>
+    <div class="verse indent6">things to shout about,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And knock your old blue devils out.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I brag and chant of Bryan, Bryan, Bryan,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Candidate for president who sketched a silver Zion,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The one American Poet who could sing out doors.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He brought in tides of wonder, of unprecedented splendor,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Wild roses from the plains, that made hearts tender,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">All the funny circus silks</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of politics unfurled,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bartlett pears of romance that were honey at the cores,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And torchlights down the street, to the end of the world.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">There were truths eternal in the gab and tittle-tattle.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">There were real heads broken in the fustian and the rattle.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">There were real lines drawn:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Not the silver and the gold,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But Nebraska’s cry went eastward against the dour and old,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The mean and cold.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">It was eighteen ninety-six, and I was just sixteen</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Altgeld ruled in Springfield, Illinois,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When there came from the sunset Nebraska’s shout of joy:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In a coat like a deacon, in a black Stetson hat</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He scourged the elephant plutocrats</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With barbed wire from the Platte.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The scales dropped from their mighty eyes.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They saw that summer’s noon</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A tribe of wonders coming</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To a marching tune.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh the long horns from Texas,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The jay hawks from Kansas,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The plop-eyed bungaroo and giant giassicus,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The varmint, chipmunk, bugaboo,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The horned-toad, prairie-dog and ballyhoo,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">From all the new-born states arow,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bidding the eagles of the west fly on,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bidding the eagles of the west fly on.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The fawn, prodactyl and thing-a-ma-jig,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The rakaboor, the hellangone,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The whangdoodle, batfowl and pig,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The coyote, wild-cat and grizzly in a glow,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In a miracle of health and speed, the whole breed abreast,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They leaped the Mississippi, blue border of the West,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">From the Gulf to Canada, two thousand miles long:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Against the towns of Tubal Cain,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Ah,—sharp was their song.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Against the ways of Tubal Cain, too cunning for the young,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The long-horn calf, the buffalo and wampus gave tongue.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">These creatures were defending things Mark Hanna never dreamed:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The moods of airy childhood that in desert dews gleamed,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The gossamers and whimsies,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The monkeyshines and didoes</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Rank and strange</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of the canyons and the range,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The ultimate fantastics</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of the far western slope,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And of prairie schooner children</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Born beneath the stars,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Beneath falling snows,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of the babies born at midnight</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the sod huts of lost hope,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With no physician there,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Except a Kansas prayer,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With the Indian raid a howling through the air.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And all these in their helpless days</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">By the dour East oppressed,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Mean paternalism</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Making their mistakes for them,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Crucifying half the West,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till the whole Atlantic coast</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Seemed a giant spiders’ nest.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And these children and their sons</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">At last rode through the cactus,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A cliff of mighty cowboys</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">On the lope,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With gun and rope.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And all the way to frightened Maine the old East heard them call,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And saw our Bryan by a mile lead the wall</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of men and whirling flowers and beasts,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The bard and the prophet of them all.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Prairie avenger, mountain lion,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bryan, Bryan, Bryan, Bryan,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Gigantic troubadour, speaking like a siege gun,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Smashing Plymouth Rock with his boulders from the West,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And just a hundred miles behind, tornadoes piled across the sky,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Blotting out sun and moon,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A sign on high.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Headlong, dazed and blinking in the weird green light,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The scalawags made moan,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Afraid to fight.</div>
+  </div>
+
+
+<p class="center">II</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">When Bryan came to Springfield, and Altgeld gave him greeting,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Rochester was deserted, Divernon was deserted,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Mechanicsburg, Riverton, Chickenbristle, Cotton Hill,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Empty: for all Sangamon drove to the meeting—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In silver-decked racing cart,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Buggy, buckboard, carryall,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Carriage, phaeton, whatever would haul,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And silver-decked farm-wagons gritted, banged and rolled,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With the new tale of Bryan by the iron tires told.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The State House loomed afar,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A speck, a hive, a football,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A captive balloon!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the town was all one spreading wing of bunting, plumes,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent6">and sunshine,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Every rag and flag, and Bryan picture sold,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When the rigs in many a dusty line</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Jammed our streets at noon,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And joined the wild parade against the power of gold.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">We roamed, we boys from High School</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With mankind,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While Springfield gleamed,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Silk-lined.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh Tom Dines, and Art Fitzgerald,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the gangs that they could get!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I can hear them yelling yet.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Helping the incantation,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Defying aristocracy,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With every bridle gone,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Ridding the world of the low down mean,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bidding the eagles of the West fly on,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bidding the eagles of the West fly on,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We were bully, wild and wooly,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Never yet curried below the knees.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We saw flowers in the air,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Fair as the Pleiades, bright as Orion,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">—Hopes of all mankind,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Made rare, resistless, thrice refined.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh we bucks from every Springfield ward!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Colts of democracy—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yet time-winds out of Chaos from the star-fields of the Lord.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The long parade rolled on. I stood by my best girl.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She was a cool young citizen, with wise and laughing eyes.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With my necktie by my ear, I was stepping on my dear,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But she kept like a pattern, without a shaken curl.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">She wore in her hair a brave prairie rose.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Her gold chums cut her, for that was not the pose.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">No Gibson Girl would wear it in that fresh way.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But we were fairy Democrats, and this was our day.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The earth rocked like the ocean, the sidewalk was a deck.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The houses for the moment were lost in the wide wreck.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the bands played strange and stranger music as they trailed along.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Against the ways of Tubal Cain,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Ah, sharp was their song!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The demons in the bricks, the demons in the grass,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The demons in the bank-vaults peered out to see us pass,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the angels in the trees, the angels in the grass,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The angels in the flags, peered out to see us pass.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the sidewalk was our chariot, and the flowers bloomed higher,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the street turned to silver and the grass turned to fire,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And then it was but grass, and the town was there again,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A place for women and men.</div>
+  </div>
+
+
+<p class="center">III</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then we stood where we could see</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Every band,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the speaker’s stand.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Bryan took the platform.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And he was introduced.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And he lifted his hand</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And cast a new spell.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Progressive silence fell</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In Springfield,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In Illinois,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Around the world.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then we heard these glacial boulders across the prairie rolled:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“<i>The people have a right to make their own mistakes....</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>You shall not crucify mankind</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Upon a cross of gold.</i>”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And everybody heard him—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the streets and State House yard.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And everybody heard him</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In Springfield,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In Illinois,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Around and around and around the world,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That danced upon its axis</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And like a darling broncho whirled.</div>
+  </div>
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">IV</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">July, August, suspense.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Wall Street lost to sense.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">August, September, October,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">More suspense,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the whole East down like a wind-smashed fence.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then Hanna to the rescue,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Hanna of Ohio,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Rallying the roller-tops,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Rallying the bucket-shops,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Threatening drouth and death,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Promising manna,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Rallying the trusts against the bawling flannelmouth;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Invading misers’ cellars,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Tin-cans, socks,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Melting down the rocks,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Pouring out the long green to a million workers,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Spondulix by the mountain-load, to stop each new tornado,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And beat the cheapskate, blatherskite,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Populistic, anarchistic,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Deacon—desperado.</div>
+  </div>
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">V</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Election night at midnight:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Boy Bryan’s defeat.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Defeat of western silver.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Defeat of the wheat.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Victory of letterfiles</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And plutocrats in miles</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With dollar signs upon their coats,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Diamond watchchains on their vests</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And spats on their feet.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Victory of custodians,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Plymouth Rock,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And all that inbred landlord stock.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Victory of the neat.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Defeat of the aspen groves of Colorado valleys,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The blue bells of the Rockies,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And blue bonnets of old Texas,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">By the Pittsburg alleys.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Defeat of alfalfa and the Mariposa lily.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Defeat of the Pacific and the long Mississippi.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Defeat of the young by the old and silly.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Defeat of tornadoes by the poison vats supreme.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Defeat of my boyhood, defeat of my dream.</div>
+  </div>
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">VI</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where is McKinley, that respectable McKinley,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The man without an angle or a tangle,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Who soothed down the city man and soothed down the farmer,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The German, the Irish, the Southerner, the Northerner,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Who climbed every greasy pole, and slipped through every crack;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Who soothed down the gambling hall, the bar-room, the church,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The devil vote, the angel vote, the neutral vote,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The desperately wicked, and their victims on the rack,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The gold vote, the silver vote, the brass vote, the lead vote,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Every vote....</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where is McKinley, Mark Hanna’s McKinley,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His slave, his echo, his suit of clothes?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Gone to join the shadows, with the pomps of that time,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the flame of that summer’s prairie rose.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where is Cleveland whom the Democratic platform</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Read from the party in a glorious hour?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Gone to join the shadows with pitchfork Tillman,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And sledge-hammer Altgeld who wrecked his power.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where is Hanna, bull dog Hanna,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Low browed Hanna, who said: “Stand pat”?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Gone to his place with old Pierpont Morgan.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Gone somewhere ... with lean rat Platt.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where is Roosevelt, the young dude cowboy,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Who hated Bryan, then aped his way?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Gone to join the shadows with mighty Cromwell</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And tall King Saul, till the Judgment day.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where is Altgeld, brave as the truth,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Whose name the few still say with tears?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Gone to join the ironies with Old John Brown,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Whose fame rings loud for a thousand years.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where is that boy, that Heaven-born Bryan,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That Homer Bryan, who sang from the West?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Gone to join the shadows with Altgeld the Eagle,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where the kings and the slaves and the troubadours rest.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>Written at the Guanella Ranch, Empire, Colorado, August, 1919.</p>
+</div>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="RAMESES_II">RAMESES II</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Would that the brave Rameses, King of Time</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Were throned in your souls, to raise for you</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Vast immemorial dreams dark Egypt knew,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Filling these barren days with Mystery,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With Life and Death, and Immortality,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Devouring Ages, the all-consuming Sun:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God keep us brooding on eternal things,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God make us wizard-kings.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="MOSES">MOSES</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yet let us raise that Egypt-nurtured prince,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Son of a Hebrew, with the dauntless scorn</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And hate for bleating gods Egyptian-born,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Showing with signs to stubborn Mizraim</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“God is one God, the God of Abraham,”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He who in the beginning made the Sun.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God send us Moses from his hidden grave,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God make us meek and brave.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_RHYME_FOR_ALL_ZIONISTS">A RHYME FOR ALL ZIONISTS</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p class="center"><i>The Eyes of Queen Esther, and How they Conquered King
+Ahasuerus</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p class="center">“Esther had not showed her people nor her kindred.”</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="center">I</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He harried lions up the peaks.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In blood and moss and snow they died.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He wore a cloak of lions’ manes</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To satisfy his curious pride.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Men saw it, trimmed with emerald bands,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Flash on the crested battle-tide.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where Bagdad stands, he hunted kings,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Burned them alive, his soul to cool.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yet in his veins god Ormadz wrought</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To make a just man of a fool.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He spoke the rigid truth, and rode,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And drew the bow, by Persian rule.</div>
+  </div>
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">II</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Ahasuerus in his prime</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Was gracious and voluptuous.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He saw a pale face turn to him,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A gleam of Heaven’s righteousness:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A girl with hair of David’s gold</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Rachel’s face of loveliness.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He dropped his sword, he bowed his head.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She led his steps to courtesy.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He took her for his white north star:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A wedding of true majesty.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh, what a war for gentleness</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Was in her bridal fantasy!</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Why did he fall by candlelight</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And press his bull-heart to her feet?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He found them as the mountain-snow</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where lions died. Her hands were sweet</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">As ice upon a blood-burnt mouth,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">As mead to reapers in the wheat.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The little nation in her soul</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bloomed in her girl’s prophetic face.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She named it not, and yet he felt</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">One challenge: her eternal race.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">This was the mystery of her step,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Her trembling body’s sacred grace.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He stood, a priest, a Nazarite,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A rabbi reading by a tomb.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The hardy raider saw and feared</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Her white knees in the palace gloom,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Her pouting breasts and locks well combed</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Within the humming, reeling room.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Her name was <i>Meditation</i> there:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Fair opposite of bullock’s brawn.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I sing her eyes that conquered him.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He bent before his little fawn,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Her dewy fern, her bitter weed,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Her secret forest’s floor and lawn.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He gave her Shushan<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> from the walls.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She saw it not, and turned not back.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Her eyes kept hunting through his soul</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">As one may seek through battle black</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For one dear banner held on high,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For one bright bugle in the rack.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The scorn that loves the sexless stars:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Traditions passionless and bright:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The ten commands (to him unknown),</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The pillar of the fire by night:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Flashed from her alabaster crown</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The while they kissed by candlelight.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The rarest psalms of David came</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">From her dropped veil (odd dreams to him).</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">It prophesied, he knew not how,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Against his endless armies grim.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He saw his Shushan in the dust—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Far in the ages growing dim.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then came a glance of steely blue,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Flash of her body’s silver sword.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Her eyes of law and temple prayer</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Broke him who spoiled the temple hoard.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The thief who fouled all little lands</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Went mad before her, and adored.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The girl was Eve in Paradise,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yet Judith, till her war was won.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">All of the future tyrants fell</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In this one king, ere night was done,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Israel, captive then as now</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Ruled with tomorrow’s rising sun.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And in the logic of the skies</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He who keeps Israel in his hand,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The God whose hope for joy on earth</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Gentile yet shall understand,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Through powers like Esther’s steadfast eyes</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Shall free each little tribe and land.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>These verses were written for the Phi Beta Kappa Society of
+Philadelphia and read at their meeting, December 8, 1917.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote">
+
+<a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Shushan—the royal city.
+
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_MEDITATION_ON_THE_SUN">A MEDITATION ON THE SUN</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="center">I</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Come, let us think upon the great that came</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Our spiritual solar-kings, whose fame</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Is quenchless in the lands of mental light,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">High planets in the vast historic game:</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Youths from the sky, they came in splendid flight.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We hold to them as to our day and night,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And by them measure out our moments here,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Our greatness, littleness, and wrong and right.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">For like the sun, we carry yesteryears</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Within our wallets: all the ancient fears</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And scorns and triumphs woven in our cloaks,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Our tall plumes bought with some lost race’s tears.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh Sun, I wish that all the nations bright</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">You ever looked upon were in my sight,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That I had stood up in your royal car</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With your eye-rays to search out field and height:</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">To see young David, leading forth his sheep,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Christ Child on the Hill of Nazareth sleep,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To watch proud Dante climb the stranger’s stairs,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To see the ocean round Columbus leap.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And beauty absolute man’s heart has known</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In those old hills where the Greek blood was sown,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They named you young Apollo in that day</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And served you well, and loved your chariot-throne.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Would I had looked on Venice in her prime.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And long had watched the prayerful Gothic time</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When Notre Dame arose, a mystery there</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In wicked good old Paris and its grime!</div>
+  </div>
+
+
+<p class="center">II</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh light, light, light! Oh Sun your light is good.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">You stir the sap of garden, field and wood,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of men and ages. And your deeds are fair,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And by this light, is God’s love understood.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">So let us think upon Creation’s days</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Great Jehovah Moses came to praise:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The God the Hebrews said excelled the sun,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To whom all psalms are due, who made the ways</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The sun shall follow till he burns no more</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till he is cold and clinkered to the core.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Praise God, and not the sun too much, my soul,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The God behind the sun we must adore.</div>
+  </div>
+
+
+<p class="center">III</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh Sun, that yet will my spring thoughts astound,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">How often this lone mendicant you found</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Stripped in your presence of all earthly things.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A happy dervish whirling round and round.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">You were his tree of incense and his feast,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">You were his wagon and his harnessed beast,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His singing brother, yet his tyrant hard,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With whip and spur and shout that never ceased.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He thought of Freedom that rides round with you</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Healing the nations with a crystal dew,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The comrade of your car, with Science there,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Making the ways of men forever new.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Would we might lift a mighty battle-cry.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Nations and mendicants, and shake your sky:</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Would that you caught us singing as one man</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That song I sang when begging days began</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Hearing it in every beam on high:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Man’s spirit-darkness shall forever die.”</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="DANTE">DANTE</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Would we were lean and grim, and shaken with hate</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like Dante, fugitive, o’er-wrought with cares,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And climbing bitterly the stranger’s stairs,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yet Love, Love, Love, divining: finding still</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Beyond dark Hell the penitential hill,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And blessed Beatrice beyond the grave.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Jehovah lead us through the wilderness:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God make our wandering brave.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_COMET_OF_PROPHECY">THE COMET OF PROPHECY</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I had hold of the comet’s mane</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A-clinging like grim death.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I passed the dearest star of all,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The one with violet breath:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The blue-gold-silver Venus star,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And almost lost my hold....</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Again I ride the chaos-tide,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Again the winds are cold.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I look ahead, I look above,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I look on either hand.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I cannot sight the fields I seek,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The holy No-Man’s-Land.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And yet my heart is full of faith.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">My comet splits the gloom,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His red mane slaps across my face,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His eyes like bonfires loom.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">My comet smells the far off grass</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of valleys richly green.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">My comet sights strange continents</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">My sad eyes have not seen,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We gallop through the whirling mist.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">My good steed cannot fail.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And we shall reach that flowery shore,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And wisdom’s mountain scale.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And I shall find my wizard cloak</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Beneath that alien sky</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And touching black soil to my lips</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Begin to prophesy.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While chaos sleet and chaos rain</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Beat on an Indian Drum</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">There in tomorrow’s moon I stand</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And speak the age to come.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span></p>
+<p>“Confucius appeared, according to Mencius, one of his most
+distinguished followers, at a crisis in the nation’s history. ‘The
+world,’ he says, ‘had fallen into decay, and right principles had
+disappeared. Perverse discourses and oppressive deeds were waxen rife.
+Ministers murdered their rulers, and sons their fathers. Confucius was
+frightened by what he saw,—and he undertook the work of reformation.’</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>“He was a native of the state of Lu, a part of the modern Shantung....
+Lu had a great name among the other states of Chow ... etc.” Rev. James
+Legge, Professor of Chinese, University of Oxford.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="SHANTUNG_OR_THE_EMPIRE_OF_CHINA_IS_CRUMBLING_DOWN">SHANTUNG, OR THE EMPIRE OF CHINA IS CRUMBLING DOWN</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p class="center"><i>Dedicated to William Rose Benét</i></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="center">I</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Now let the generations pass—</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Like sand through Heaven’s blue hour-glass.</i></div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">In old Shantung,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">By the capital where poetry began,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Near the only printing presses known to man,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Young Confucius walks the shore</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">On a sorrowful day.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The town, all books, is tumbling down</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Through the blue bay.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The book-worms writhe</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">From rusty musty walls.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They drown themselves like rabbits in the sea.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Venomous foreigners harry mandarins</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With pitchfork, blunderbuss and snickersnee.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the book-slums there is thunder;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Gunpowder, that sad wonder,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Intoxicates the knights and beggar-men.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The old grotesques of war begin again:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Rebels, devils, fairies, are set free.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">So ...</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Confucius hears a carol and a hum:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A picture sea-child whirs from off his fan</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In one quick breath of peach-bloom fantasy,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then, in an instant bows the reverent knee—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A full-grown sweetheart, chanting his renown.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And then she darts into the Yellow Sea,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Calling, calling:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Sage with holy brow,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Say farewell to China now;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Live like the swine,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Leave off your scholar-gown!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">This city of books is falling, falling,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Empire of China is crumbling down.”</div>
+  </div>
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">II</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Confucius, Confucius, how great was Confucius—</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>The sage of Shantung, and the master of Mencius?</i></div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Alexander fights the East.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Just as the Indus turns him back</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He hears of tempting lands beyond,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With sword-swept cities on the rack</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With crowns outshining India’s crown:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Empire of China, crumbling down.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Later the Roman sibyls say:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Egypt, Persia and Macedon,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Tyre and Carthage, passed away;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the Empire of China is crumbling down.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Rome will never crumble down.”</div>
+  </div>
+
+
+<p class="center">III</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>See how the generations pass—</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Like sand through Heaven’s blue hour-glass.</i></div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Arthur waits on the British shore</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">One thankful day,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For Galahad sails back at last</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To Camelot Bay.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The <i>pure</i> knight lands and tells the tale:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Far in the east</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A sea-girl led us to a king,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The king to a feast,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In a land where poppies bloom for miles,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where books are made like bricks and tiles.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I taught that king to love your name—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Brother and Christian he became.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“His Town of Thunder-Powder keeps</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A giant hound that never sleeps,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A crocodile that sits and weeps.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“His Town of Cheese the mouse affrights</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With fire-winged cats that light the nights.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They glorify the land of rust;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Their sneeze is music in the dust.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">(And deep and ancient is the dust.)</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“All towns have one same miracle</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With the Town of Silk, the capital—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Vast book-worms in the book-built walls.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Their creeping shakes the silver halls;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They look like cables, and they seem</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like writhing roots on trees of dream.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Their sticky cobwebs cross the street,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Catching scholars by the feet,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Who own the tribes, yet rule them not,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bitten by book-worms till they rot.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Beggars and clowns rebel in might</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bitten by book-worms till they fight.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Arthur calls to his knights in rows:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“I will go if Merlin goes;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">These rebels must be flayed and sliced—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Let us cut their throats for Christ.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But Merlin whispers in his beard:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“China has witches to be feared.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Arthur stares at the sea-foam’s rim</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Amazed. The fan-girl beckons him!—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That slender and peculiar child</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Mongolian and brown and wild.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His eyes grow wide, his senses drown.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She laughs in her wing, like the sleeve of a gown.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She lifts a key of crimson stone:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“The Great Gunpowder-town you own.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She lifts a key with chains and rings:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“I give the town where cats have wings.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She lifts a key as white as milk:</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“This unlocks the Town of Silk”—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Throws forty keys at Arthur’s feet:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“These unlock the land complete.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then, frightened by suspicious knights,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Merlin’s eyes like altar-lights,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the Christian towers of Arthur’s town,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She spreads blue fins—she whirs away;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Fleeing far across the bay,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Wailing through the gorgeous day:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“My sick king begs</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That you save his crown</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And his learnèd chiefs from the worm and clown—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Empire of China is crumbling down.”</div>
+  </div>
+
+
+<p class="center">IV</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Always the generations pass,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Like sand through Heaven’s blue hour-glass!</i></div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The time the King of Rome is born—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Napoleon’s son, that eaglet thing—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bonaparte finds beside his throne</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">One evening, laughing in her wing,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Chinese sea-child; and she cries,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Breaking his heart with emerald eyes</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And fairy-bred unearthly grace:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Master, take your destined place—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Across white foam and water blue</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The streets of China call to you:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Empire of China is crumbling down.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then he bends to kiss her mouth,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And gets but incense, dust and drouth.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Custodians, custodians!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Mongols and Manchurians!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Christians, wolves, Mohammedans!</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">In hard Berlin they cried: “O King,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">China’s way is a shameful thing!”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">In Tokio they cry: “O King,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">China’s way is a shameful thing!”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And thus our song might call the roll</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of every land from pole to pole,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And every rumor known to time</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of China doddering—or sublime.</div>
+  </div>
+
+
+<p class="center">V</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Slowly the generations pass—</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Like sand through Heaven’s blue hour-glass.</i></div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">So let us find tomorrow now:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Our towns are gone;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Our books have passed; ten thousand years</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Have thundered on.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Sphinx looks far across the world</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In fury black:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She sees all western nations spent</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Or on the rack.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Eastward she sees one land she knew</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When from the stone</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Priests of the sunrise carved her out</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And left her lone.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She sees the shore Confucius walked</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">On his sorrowful day:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Impudent foreigners rioting</i>,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the ancient way;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Officials, futile as of old,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Have gowns more bright;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bookworms are fiercer than of old,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Their skins more white;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Dust is deeper than of old,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">More bats are flying;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">More songs are written than of old—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">More songs are dying.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where Galahad found forty towns</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Now fade and glare</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Ten thousand towns with book-tiled roof</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And garden-stair,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where beggars’ babies come like showers</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of classic words:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They rule the world—immortal brooks</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And magic birds.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The lion Sphinx roars at the sun:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“I hate this nursing you have done!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The meek inherit the earth too long—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When will the world belong to the strong?”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She soars; she claws his patient face—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The girl-moon screams at the disgrace.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The sun’s blood fills the western sky;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He hurries not, and will not die.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The baffled Sphinx, on granite wings,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Turns now to where young China sings.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">One thousand of ten thousand towns</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Go down before her silent wrath;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yet even lion-gods may faint</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And die upon their brilliant path.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She sees the Chinese children romp</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In dust that she must breathe and eat.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Her tongue is reddened by its lye;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She craves its grit, its cold and heat.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Dust of Ages holds a glint</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of fire from the foundation-stones,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of spangles from the sun’s bright face,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of sapphires from earth’s marrow-bones.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Mad-drunk with it, she ends her day—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Slips when a high sea-wall gives way,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Drowns in the cold Confucian sea</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where the whirring fan-girl first flew free.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>In the light of the maxims of Chesterfield, Mencius,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Wilson, Roosevelt, Tolstoy, Trotsky,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Franklin or Nietzsche, how great was Confucius?</i></div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“<i>Laughing Asia</i>” brown and wild,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That lyric and immortal child,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His fan’s gay daughter, crowned with sand,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Between the water and the land</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Now cries on high in irony,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With a voice of night-wind alchemy:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“O cat, O sphinx,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">O stony-face,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The joke is on Egyptian pride,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The joke is on the human race:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">‘The meek inherit the earth too long—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When will the world belong to the strong?’</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I am born from off the holy fan</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of the world’s most patient gentleman.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">So answer me,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">O courteous sea!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">O deathless sea!”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And thus will the answering Ocean call:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“China will fall,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Empire of China will crumble down,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When the Alps and the Andes crumble down;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When the sun and the moon have crumbled down,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Empire of China will crumble down,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Crumble down.”</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span></p>
+<p>In the following narrative, Lucifer is not Satan, King of Evil, who in
+the beginning led the rebels from Heaven, establishing the underworld.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Lucifer is here taken as a character appearing much later, the first
+singing creature weary of established ways in music, moved with the
+lust of wandering. He finds the open road between the stars too lonely.
+He wanders to the kingdom of Satan, there to sing a song that so moves
+demons and angels that he is, at its climax, momentary emperor of Hell
+and Heaven, and the flame kindled of the tears of the demons devastates
+the golden streets.</p>
+
+<p>Therefore it is best for the established order of things that this
+wanderer shall be cursed with eternal silence and death. But since then
+there has been music in every temptation, in every demon voice.</p>
+
+<p>Along with a set of verses called <i>The Heroes of Time</i>, and
+another <i>The Tree of Laughing Bells</i>, I exchanged <i>The Last Song
+of Lucifer</i> for a night’s lodging in New Jersey, Pennsylvania and
+Ohio, as narrated in <i>A Handy Guide for Beggars</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span></p>
+
+<p>The fourteenth chapter of Isaiah contains these words on Lucifer:</p>
+
+<p>“Thy pomp is brought down to the grave, and the noise of thy viols: the
+worm is spread under thee and the worms cover thee.</p>
+
+<p>“How art thou fallen from Heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning. How
+art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations.</p>
+
+<p>“For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into Heaven, I will
+exalt my throne above the stars of God....</p>
+
+<p>“All the kings of the nations, even all of them, lie in glory, every
+one in his own house.</p>
+
+<p>“But thou art cast out of thy grave like an abominable branch, and as
+the raiment of those that are slain, thrust through with a sword, that
+go down to the stones of the pit; as a carcass trodden under feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Thou shalt not be joined to them in burial, because thou hast
+destroyed thy land.”</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_LAST_SONG_OF_LUCIFER">THE LAST SONG OF LUCIFER</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>To Be Read Like a Meditation</i></p>
+
+<div class="poetry-cont-side">
+<div class="poetry">
+
+<div class="sidenote"><i>Lucifer dreams of his fate and then forgets the
+dream.</i></div>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">When Lucifer was undefiled,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When Lucifer was young,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When only angel-music</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Fell from his glorious tongue,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Dreaming in his innocence</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Beneath God’s golden trees</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">By genius pure his fancy fell—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">By sweet divine disease—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To a wilderness of sorrows dim</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Beneath the ether seas.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That father of radiant harmony,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of music transcendently bright—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Truest to art since heaven began,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Wrapped in royal, melodious light—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That beautiful light-bearer, lofty and loyal</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Dreamed bitter dreams of enigma and night.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">But soon the singer woke and stood</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And tuned his harp to sing anew</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And scorned the dreams (as well he should)</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For only to the evil crew</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Are dreams of dread and evil true,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Remembered well, or understood.</div>
+  </div>
+<div class="sidenote"><i>The dream is fulfilled.</i></div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">But when a million years were done</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And a million million years beside,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He broke his harp-strings one by one;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He sighed, aweary of rich things,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He spread his pallid, heavy wings</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And flew to find the deathless stains,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The wounds that come with wanderings.</div>
+  </div>
+
+<div class="sidenote"><i>He will never dream again, but the demons dream of
+wandering and singing, and doing all things just as he did in his
+day.</i></div>
+
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He chose the solemn paths of Hell,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He sang for that dumb land too well,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Defying their disdain</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till he was cursed and slain.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Ah—he shall never dream again—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Mourn, for he shall not dream again—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But the demons dream in pain,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of wandering in the night</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And singing in the night,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Singing till they reign.</div>
+  </div>
+<div class="sidenote"><i>Music is holy, even in the infernal world.</i></div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span>Oh hallowed are the demons,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A-dreaming songs again,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And holy to my heart! the ancient music-art,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That echo of a memory in demon-haunted men,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That hope of music, sweet hope, vain,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That sets the world a-seeking—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A passion pure, a subtle pain</div>
+<div class="sidenote"><i>If Lucifer’s song could be completely remembered, one
+would be willing to pay the great price.</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Too dear for song or speaking.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh, who would not with the demons be,</div>
+
+    <div class="verse indent2">For the fullness of their memory</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of that dayspring song,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of that holy thing</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That Lucifer alone could sing,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That Hell and Earth so hopelessly</div>
+<div class="sidenote">NOW FOLLOWS WHAT EVERY DEMON SAYS IN HIS HEART, REMEMBERING
+THAT TIME</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And gloriously are seeking!</div>
+  </div>
+
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span> <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span> <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span> <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span> <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span></p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span> <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span> <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span> <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span> <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="sidenote"><i>How the singer made his lyre.</i></div>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh, Lucifer, great Lucifer,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh, fallen, ancient Lucifer,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Master, lost, of the angel choir—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Silent, suffering Lucifer:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Once your alchemies of Hell</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Wrought your chains to a magic lyre</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">All strung with threads of purple fire,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till the hell-hounds moaned from your bitter spell—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The sweetest song since the demons fell—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Haunting song of the heart’s desire.</div>
+  </div>
+
+<div class="sidenote"><i>How the song began.</i></div>
+
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh, Lucifer, great Lucifer,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">You who have sung in vain,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Ecstasy of sweet regret,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Ecstasy of pain,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Strain that the angels can never forget,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Haunting the children of punishment yet,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bowing them, bringing their tears in the darkness;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh, the night-caves of Chaos are breathing it yet!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The last that your bosom may ever deliver,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh, musical master of æons and æons....</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Nor devils nor dragons may ever forget,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Though the walls of our prison should crumble and shiver,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the death-dews of Chaos our armor should wet,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For the song of the infamous Lucifer</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Was an anthem of glorious scorning</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And courage, and horrible pain—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Was the song of a Son of the Morning,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A song that was sung in vain.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh singing was only in Heaven</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Ere Lucifer’s melody came,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But when Lucifer’s harp-strings grew loud in their sighing,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When he called up the dragons by name—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The song was the sorrow of sorrows,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The song was the Hope of Despair,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Or the smile of a warrior falling—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A prayer and a curse and a prayer—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Or a soul going down through the shadows and calling,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Or the laughter of Night in his lair;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The song was the fear of ten thousand tomorrows—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">On the racks of grief and of pain—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The herald of silences, dreadful, unending,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When the last little echo should listen in vain....</div>
+  </div>
+
+<div class="sidenote"><i>How the song made the demons dream they were still
+fighting for Satan.</i></div>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span>It was memory, memory,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Visions of glory,—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Memory, memory,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Visions of fight.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The pride of the onset,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The banners that fluttered,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The wails of the battle-pierced angels of light.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Song of the times of the Nether Empire</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The age when our desperate band</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Heaped our redoubts with the horrible fire</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">On the fringes of Holier Land—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Conquering always, conquering never,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Building a throne of sand—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When Satan still wielded that glorious scepter—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The sword of his glorious hand.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then rang the martial music</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sung by the hosts of God</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the first of the shameful years of fear</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When we bit the purple sod:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He sang that shameful battle-story—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He twanged each threaded torture-flame;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Wherever his leprous fingers came</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They drew from the strings a groan of glory:</div>
+  </div>
+
+<div class="sidenote"><i>How the song enchanted them til they were in fancy the
+good warriors of God, and they shouted their enemy’s battle-cry.</i></div>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then we dreamed at last,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then we lost the past,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We dreamed we were angels in battle-array:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We tore our hearts with God’s battle-yell</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the sound crashed up from the smoky fen</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the battle sweat stood forth</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">On the awful brows of our fighting men:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the magical singer, grim and wild</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Swept his harp again, and smiled,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the harp-strings lifted our cries that day</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till the thundering charge reached the City on High—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God’s charge, that he thought</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Had passed for aye,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When our last fond hope went down to die.</div>
+  </div>
+
+ <div class="sidenote">   <i>How, at the</i>
+    <i>climax of the</i>
+    <i>song Lucifer</i>
+    <i>almost restored</i>
+    <i>the</i>
+    <i>first day of</i>
+    <i>creation, when</i>
+    <i>the Universe</i>
+    <i>was happy</i>
+    <i>and sinless.</i>
+  </div>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh throbbing, sweet, enthralling spell!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Madly, madly, oh my heart—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span>Heart of anguish, heart of Hell—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Beat the music through your night—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Pierced the strain that the wanderer</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Wrought with fingers white;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For last he sang—of the morning—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The song of the Sons of the Morning—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The fire of the star-souled Lucifer</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Before he had known a stain;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That song which came when the suns were young</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the Dayspring knew his place—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That joy, full born, that unknown tongue,</div>
+
+<div class="sidenote"><i>How the tears of the distracted demons become a
+heaven-climbing flame.</i></div>
+
+    <div class="verse indent2">That shouting chant of the Sons of God</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When first they saw Jehovah’s face.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the Wanderer laughed, then sang it at last</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till it leaped as a flame to the forests on high</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the tears of the demons were fire in the sky.</div>
+  </div>
+
+<div class="sidenote"><i>How Lucifer seemed to make himself God.</i></div>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And just for a breath he conquered and reigned,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For one quick pulse of time he stood;</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">By flame was crowned where God had been</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Himself the Word sublime—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Himself the Most High Love unstained,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Great, Good King of the Stars and Years—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Crowned, enthroned, by a leaping flame—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The fire of our love-born tears.</div>
+  </div>
+
+<div class="sidenote"><i>How the angels were conquered by the sound of his music
+from afar, and the Demons were torn with love.</i></div>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the angels bowed down, for his glory was vast—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Loving their conqueror, weeping, aghast—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While we sobbed, for a moment repenting the past,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the mock-hope came, that eats and stings,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The hope for innocent dawns above,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The joy of it beat in our ears like wings,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Our iron cheeks seared with the tears of love—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Was it not enough,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Was it not enough</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That our cheeks were seared with the tears of Love?</div>
+  </div>
+
+<div class="sidenote"><i>Demons and angels curse the singer.</i></div>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">So we cursed the harping of Lucifer</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The lyre was lost from his leper hands</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the hell-hounds tore his living heart.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the angels cursed great Lucifer</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For his purple flame consumed their lands</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till golden ways were desert sands;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They hurled him down, afar, apart.</div>
+  </div>
+
+<div class="sidenote"><i>The Punishment.</i></div>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Beneath where the Gulfs of Silence end,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where never sighs nor songs descend,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Never a hell-flare in his eyes</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Alone, alone, afar he lies....</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Fearfully alone, beyond immortal ken</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He is further down in the deep of pain</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Than is Hell from the grief of men;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And his memories of music</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Are rare as desert-rain.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Ended forever the ecstasy</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And song too sweet for scorning—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The song that was still in vain;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the shout of the battle-charge of God—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Ended forever the Song of the Morning—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Song that was sung in vain.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="SECOND_SECTION">SECOND SECTION<br>
+A RHYMED SCENARIO, SOME POEM GAMES, AND THE LIKE</h2>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+</div>
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_DOLLS_ARABIAN_NIGHTS">A DOLL’S “ARABIAN NIGHTS”</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><i>A Rhymed Scenario for Mae Marsh, when she acts in the new
+many-colored films</i></p>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-cont-side">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I dreamed the play was real.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I walked into the screen.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like Alice through the looking-glass,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I found a curious scene.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The black stones took on flame.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The shadows shone with eyes.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The colors poured and changed</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In a Hell’s debauch of dyes,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In a street with incense thick,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In a court of witch-bazars,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With flambeaux by the stalls</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Whose splutter hid the stars.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Camels stalked in line.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Courtezans tripped by</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Dressed in silks and gems,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Copper diadems,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">All the wealth they had.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span></p>
+<div class="sidenote"><i>This refrain to be elaborately articulated and the
+instrumental music then made to match it precisely.</i></div>
+
+<div class="poetry-cont-side">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Oh quivering lights,</i> </div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Arabian Nights!</i>      </div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Bagdad,</i>              </div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Bagdad!</i>              </div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">You were a guarded girl</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In a palanquin of gold.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I was buying figs:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">All my hands could hold.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">You slipped a note to me.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Your eyes made me your slave.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Twelve paces back,” you wrote.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">No other word gave.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The delicate dove house swayed</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Close-veiled, a snare most sweet.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Joy” said the silver bells</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">On the palanquin-bearers’ feet.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then by a mosque, a dervish</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yelled and whirled like mad.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Oh quivering lights,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Arabian Nights!</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Bagdad,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Bagdad!</i></div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I reached a dim, still court.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I saw you there afar,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Beckoning from the roof,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Veiled, a cloud-wrapped star.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And your black slave said: “Proud boy,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Do you dare everything</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With your young arm and bright steel?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then climb. You are her king.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And I heard a hiss of knives</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the doorway dark and bad.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Oh quivering lights,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Arabian Nights!</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Bagdad,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Bagdad!</i></div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The stairway climbed and climbed.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">It spoke. It shouted lies.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I reached a tar-black room,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A panther’s belly gloom,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Filled with howls and sighs.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I found the roof. Twelve kings</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Rose up to stab me there.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But I sent them to their graves.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">My singing shook the air.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">My scimitar seemed more</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Than any steel could be,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A whirling wheel, a pack</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of death-hounds guarding me.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And then you came like May.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">You bound my torn breast well</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With your discarded veil.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And flowery silence fell.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While Mohammed spread his wings</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the stars, you bent me back,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With a quick kiss touched my mouth,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And my heart was on the rack.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh dreadful, deathless love!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh kiss of Islam fire.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And your flashing hands were more</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Than all a thief’s desire.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="sidenote"><i>The morning after is always noted in the Arabian
+Nights.</i></div>
+
+<div class="poetry-cont-side">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I woke by twelve dead curs</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">On bloody, stony ground.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the grey watch muttered “shame,”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">As he tottered on his round.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">You had written on my sword:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Goodby, O iron arm.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I love you much too well</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To do you further harm.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And as my pledge and sign</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">You are in crimson clad.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Oh quivering lights,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Arabian Nights!</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Bagdad,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Bagdad!</i></div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">
+
+<p> * <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span> <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span> <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span> <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span></p>
+<p> * <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span> <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span> <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span> <span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">*</span></p>
+</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The rocs scream in the air.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The ghouls my pathway clear.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For I have drunk the soul</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of the dazzling maid they fear.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The long handclasp you gave</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Still shakes upon my hands.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">O, daughter of a Jinn</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I plot in Islam lands,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Haunting purple streets,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Hissing, snarling, bold,</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">A robber never jailed,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A beggar never cold.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I shall be sultan yet</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In this old crimson clad.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Oh quivering lights,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Arabian Nights!</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Bagdad,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Bagdad!</i></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_LAME_BOY_AND_THE_FAIRY">THE LAME BOY AND THE FAIRY</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>To be Chanted with a Suggestion of Chopin’s Berceuse</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>A Poem Game. See the Chinese Nightingale, pages 93 through 97</i></p>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">A lame boy</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Met a fairy</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In a meadow</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where the bells grow.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the fairy</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Kissed him gaily.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the fairy</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Gave him friendship,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Gave him healing,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Gave him wings.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“All the fashions</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I will give you.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">You will fly, dear,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">All the long year.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Wings of springtime,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Wings of summer,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Wings of autumn,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Wings of winter!</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Here is</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A dress for springtime.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And she gave him</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A dress of grasses,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Orchard blossoms,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Wildflowers found in</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Mountain passes,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Shoes of song and</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Wings of rhyme</i>.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Here is</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A dress for summer.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And she gave him</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A hat of sunflowers,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A suit of poppies,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Clover, daisies,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">All from wheat-sheaves</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In harvest time;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Shoes of song and</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Wings of rhyme</i>.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Here is</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A dress for autumn.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And she gave him</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A suit of red haw,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Hickory, apple,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Elder, paw paw,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Maple, hazel,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Elm and grape leaves.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And blue</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And white</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Cloaks of smoke,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And veils of sunlight,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">From the Indian summer prime!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Shoes of song and</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Wings of rhyme.</i></div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Here is</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A dress for winter.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And she gave him</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A polar bear suit,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And he heard the</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Christmas horns toot,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And she gave him</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Green festoons and</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Red balloons and</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">All the sweet cakes</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the snow flakes</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of Christmas time,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Shoes of song and</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Wings of rhyme</i>.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the fairy</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Kept him laughing,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Led him dancing,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Kept him climbing</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">On the hill tops</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Toward the moon.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“We shall see silver ships.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We shall see singing ships,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Valleys of spray today,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Mountains of foam.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We have been long away,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Far from our wonderland.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Here come the ships of love</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Taking us home.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Who are our captains bold?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They are the saints of old.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">One is Saint Christopher.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He takes your hand.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He leads the cloudy fleet.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He gives us bread and meat.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His is our ship till</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We reach our dear land.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Where is our house to be?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Far in the ether sea.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">There where the North Star</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Is moored in the deep.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sleepy old comets nod</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">There on the silver sod.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sleepy young fairy flowers</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Laugh in their sleep.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“A hundred years</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A day,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">There we will fly</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And play</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I spy and cross tag.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And meet on the high way,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And call to the game</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Little Red Riding Hood,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Goldilocks, Santa Claus,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Every beloved</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And heart-shaking name.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the lame child</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the fairy</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Journeyed far, far</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To the North Star.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_BLACKSMITHS_SERENADE">THE BLACKSMITH’S SERENADE</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p class="center"><i>A pantomime and farce, to be acted by My Lady on one side
+of a shutter, while the singer chants on the other, to an iron
+guitar.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">John Littlehouse the redhead was a large ruddy man</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Quite proud to be a blacksmith, and he loved Polly Ann, Polly Ann.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Straightway to her window with his iron guitar he came</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Breathing like a blacksmith—his wonderful heart’s flame.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Though not very bashful and not very bold</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He had reached the plain conclusion his passion must be told.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And so he sang: “Awake, awake,”—this hip-hoo-rayious man.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Do you like me, do you love me, Polly Ann, Polly Ann?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The rooster on my coalshed crows at break of day.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">It makes a person happy to hear his roundelay.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The fido in my woodshed barks at fall of night.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He makes one feel so safe and snug. He barks exactly right.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I swear to do my stylish best and purchase all I can</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of the flummeries, flunkeries and mummeries of man.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And I will carry in the coal and the water from the spring</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And I will sweep the porches if you will cook and sing.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">No doubt your Pa sleeps like a rock. Of course Ma is awake</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But dares not say she hears me, for gentle custom’s sake.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Your sleeping father knows I am a decent honest man.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Will you wake him, Polly Ann,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And if he dares deny it I will thrash him, lash bash mash</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Hash him, Polly Ann.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Hum hum hum, fee fie fo fum—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And my brawn should wed your beauty</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Do you hear me, Polly Ann, Polly Ann?”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Polly had not heard of him before, but heard him now.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She blushed behind the shutters like a pippin on the bough.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She was not overfluttered, she was not overbold.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She was glad a lad was living with a passion to be told.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But she spoke up to her mother: “Oh, what an awful man:—”</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">This merry merry quite contrary tricky trixy, Polly Ann, Polly Ann.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The neighbors put their heads out of the windows. They said:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“What sort of turtle dove is this that seems to wake the dead?”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yes, in their nighties whispered this question to the night.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They did not dare to shout it. It wouldn’t be right.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And so, I say, they whispered:—“Does she hear this awful man,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Polly Ann, Polly Ann?”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">John Littlehouse the redhead sang on of his desires:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Steel makes the wires of lyres, makes the frames of terrible towers</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And circus chariots’ tires.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Believe me, dear, a blacksmith man can feel.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I will bind you, if I can to my ribs with hoops of steel.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Do you hear me, Polly Ann, Polly Ann?”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And then his tune was silence, for he was not a fool.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He let his voice rest, his iron guitar cool.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And thus he let the wind sing, the stars sing and the grass sing,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The prankishness of love sing, the girl’s tingling feet sing,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Her trembling sweet hands sing, her mirror in the dark sing,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Her grace in the dark sing, her pillow in the dark sing,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The savage in her blood sing, her starved little heart sing,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Silently sing.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Yes, I hear you, Mister Man,”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To herself said Polly Ann, Polly Ann.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He shouted one great loud “<i>Good night</i>,” and laughed,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And skipped home.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And every star was winking in the wide wicked dome.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And early in the morning, sweet Polly stole away.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And though the town went crazy, she is his wife today.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_APPLE_BLOSSOM_SNOW_BLUES">THE APPLE BLOSSOM SNOW BLUES</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p class="hang"><i>A “blues” is a song in the mood of Milton’s Il Penseroso, or
+a paragraph from Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy. This present
+production is the chronicle of the secret soul of a vaudeville
+man, as he dances in the limelight with his haughty lady. Let
+the reader take special pains to make his own tune for this
+production, to a very delicate drum beat.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“<i>Your</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Dandelion beauty,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Your</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Cherry-blossom beauty,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Your</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Apple-blossom beauty,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I will dance as I can,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">O</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">You rag time lady,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">O</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">You jazz dancing lady,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">O</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">You blues-singing lady,”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Thinks</i> the blues-singing man.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Your</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Grace and slightness,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And your fragrant whiteness,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Make me see the bending</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of an apple-blossom bough.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>You</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Are a fairy,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yet a jump-jazz dancer,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And your heart</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Is a robin,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Singing, making merry</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With the apple-flowers now.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">See him kneel and canter</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And smirk and banter,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And essay her heart</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While the gourd horns blow.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For he is her lover</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>And</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Her dancing partner,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the blues he made</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Called “The Apple Blossom Snow.”</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">She does her duty</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">No more</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Than her duty,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yet the packed house cheers</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To the gallery rim.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Her young scorn fires them,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Its pep inspires them,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They watch her lover</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And envy him.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He does not fathom</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">What her heart has in keeping</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till that last circus leaping</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Takes all by surprise.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then he catches her softly,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Saves her gently,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And a mood for his soul</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Lights her pansy eyes.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She steps rare measures.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Her eyes are treasures.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Brave truth shines out</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">From her young-witch glance.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">From the velvety shade,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Ah, the thoughts of the maid.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Relenting glory,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Unveiled by chance.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Though soon thereafter</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She hides in laughter,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And flouts all his loving,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He will dance as he can,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">As he can,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like a man,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With his jazz dancing wonder,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With his pansy blossom wonder,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With his apple blossom wonder,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With his rag time lady,</div>
+<div class="sidenote"><i>Grand finale of jazz music, like the fall of a pile of
+dishes in the kitchen.</i><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Rag</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Time</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Man.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_DANIEL_JAZZ">THE DANIEL JAZZ</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p class="hang"><i>Let the leader train the audience to roar like lions, and to
+join in the refrain “Go chain the lions down,” before he begins
+to lead them in this jazz.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<div class="poetry-cont-side">
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="sidenote"><i>Beginning with a strain of “Dixie.”</i></div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Darius the Mede was a king and a wonder.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His eye was proud, and his voice was thunder.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He kept bad lions in a monstrous den.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He fed up the lions on Christian men.</div>
+  </div>
+
+<div class="sidenote"><i>With a touch of “Alexander’s Ragtime Band.”</i></div>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Daniel was the chief hired man of the land.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He stirred up the jazz in the palace band.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He whitewashed the cellar. He shovelled in the coal.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Daniel kept a-praying:—“Lord save my soul.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Daniel kept a-praying:—“Lord save my soul.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Daniel kept a-praying:—“Lord save my soul.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Daniel was the butler, swagger and swell.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He ran up stairs. He answered the bell.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And <i>he</i> would let in whoever came a-calling:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Saints so holy, scamps so appalling.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Old man Ahab leaves his card.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Elisha and the bears are a-waiting in the yard.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Here comes Pharaoh and his snakes a-calling.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Here comes Cain and his wife a-calling.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego for tea.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Here comes Jonah and the whale,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the <i>Sea</i>!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Here comes St. Peter and his fishing pole.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Here comes Judas and his silver a-calling.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Here comes old Beelzebub a-calling.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Daniel kept a-praying:—“Lord save my soul.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Daniel kept a-praying:—“Lord save my soul.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Daniel kept a-praying:—“Lord save my soul.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">His sweetheart and his mother were Christian and meek.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They washed and ironed for Darius every week.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">One Thursday he met them at the door:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Paid them as usual, but acted sore.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He said:—“Your Daniel is a dead little pigeon.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He’s a good hard worker, but he talks religion.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And he showed them Daniel in the lion’s cage.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Daniel standing quietly, the lions in a rage.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">His good old mother cried:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Lord save him.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Daniel’s tender sweetheart cried:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Lord save him.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And she was a golden lily in the dew.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And she was as sweet as an apple on the tree</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And she was as fine as a melon in the corn-field,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Gliding and lovely as a ship on the sea,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Gliding and lovely as a ship on the sea.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And she prayed to the Lord:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“<i>Send</i> Gabriel. <i>Send</i> Gabriel.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">King Darius said to the lions:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Bite Daniel. Bite Daniel.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bite him. Bite him. Bite him!”</div>
+  </div>
+
+<div class="sidenote"><i>Here the audience roars with the leader.</i></div>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Thus roared the lions:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“We want Daniel, Daniel, Daniel,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We want Daniel, Daniel, Daniel.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr”</div>
+  </div>
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span></p>
+<div class="sidenote"><i>The audience sings this with the leader, to the old negro
+tune.</i></div>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Daniel did not frown,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Daniel did not cry.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He kept on looking at the sky.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the Lord said to Gabriel:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Go chain the lions down,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Go chain the lions down.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Go chain the lions down.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Go chain the lions down.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And <i>Gabriel</i> chained the lions,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And <i>Gabriel</i> chained the lions,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And <i>Gabriel</i> chained the lions,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Daniel got out of the den,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Daniel got out of the den,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Daniel got out of the den.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Darius said:—“You’re a Christian child,”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Darius said:—“You’re a Christian child,”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Darius said:—“You’re a Christian child,”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And gave him his job again,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And gave him his job again,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And gave him his job again.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="WHEN_PETER_JACKSON_PREACHED_IN_THE_OLD_CHURCH">WHEN PETER JACKSON PREACHED IN THE OLD CHURCH</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p class="hang"><i>To be sung to the tune of the old Negro Spiritual “Every
+time I feel the spirit moving in my heart I’ll pray.”</i></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Peter Jackson was a-preaching</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the house was still as snow.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He whispered of repentance</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the lights were dim and low</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And were almost out</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When he gave the first shout:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Arise, arise,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Cry out your eyes.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And we mourned all our terrible sins away.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Clean, clean away.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then we marched around, around,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And sang with a wonderful sound:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Every time I feel the spirit moving in my heart I’ll pray.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Every time I feel the spirit moving in my heart I’ll pray.”</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And we fell by the altar</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And fell by the aisle,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And found our Savior</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In just a little while,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We all found Jesus at the break of the day,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We all found Jesus at the break of the day.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Blessed Jesus,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Blessed Jesus.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_CONSCIENTIOUS_DEACON">THE CONSCIENTIOUS DEACON</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>A song to be syncopated as you please</i></p>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Black cats, grey cats, green cats miau—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Chasing the deacon who stole the cow.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He runs and tumbles, he tumbles and runs.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He sees big white men with dogs and guns.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He falls down flat. He turns to stare—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">No cats, no dogs, and no men there.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">But black shadows, grey shadows, green shadows come.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The wind says, “Miau!” and the rain says, “Hum!”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He goes straight home. He dreams all night.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He howls. He puts his wife in a fright.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Black devils, grey devils, green devils shine—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yes, by Sambo,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the fire looks fine!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Cat devils, dog devils, cow devils grin—</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yes, by Sambo,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the fire rolls in.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And so, next day, to avoid the worst—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He takes that cow</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where he found her first.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="DAVY_JONES_DOOR-BELL">DAVY JONES’ DOOR-BELL</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>A Chant for Boys with Manly Voices.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Every line sung one step deeper than the line preceding.</i></p>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Any sky-bird sings,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent6">“<i>Ring, ring!</i>”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Any church-chime calls,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent6">“<i>Dong ding!</i>”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Any cannon says,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent6">“<i>Boom bang!</i>”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Any whirlwind says,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent6">“<i>Whing whang!</i>”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The bell-buoy hums and roars,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent6">“<i>Ding dong!</i>”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And way down deep,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where fishes throng,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">By Davy Jones’ big deep-sea door,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Shaking the ocean’s flowery floor,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His door-bell booms</div>
+    <div class="verse indent6">“<i>Dong dong,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent6"><i>Dong dong</i>,”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Deep, deep down,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent6">“<i>Clang boom,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent6"><i>Boom dong,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent6"><i>Boom dong,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent6"><i>Boom dong!</i>”</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_SEA_SERPENT_CHANTEY">THE SEA SERPENT CHANTEY</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+
+<p class="center">I</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">There’s a snake on the western wave</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And his crest is red.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He is long as a city street,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And he eats the dead.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">There’s a hole in the bottom of the sea</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where the snake goes down.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And he waits in the bottom of the sea</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For the men that drown.</div>
+  </div>
+
+<div class="sidenote"><i>Let the audience join in the chorus.</i></div>
+
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Chorus:—</p>
+    <div class="verse indent2">This is the voice of the sand</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">(The sailors understand)</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“There is far more sea than sand,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">There is far more sea than land. Yo ... ho, yo ... ho.”</div>
+  </div>
+
+
+<p class="center">II</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He waits by the door of his cave</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While the ages moan.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He cracks the ribs of the ships</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With his teeth of stone.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In his gizzard deep and long</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Much treasure lies.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh, the pearls and the Spanish gold....</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the idols’ eyes....</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh, the totem poles ... the skulls ...</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The altars cold ...</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The wedding rings, the dice ...</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The buoy bells old.</div>
+  </div>
+
+<p>Chorus:—This is the voice, etc.</p>
+
+
+<p class="center">III</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Dive, mermaids, with sharp swords</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And cut him through,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And bring us the idols’ eyes</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the red gold too.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Lower the grappling hooks</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Good pirate men</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And drag him up by the tongue</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">From his deep wet den.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We will sail to the end of the world,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We will nail his hide</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To the main mast of the moon</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the evening tide.</div>
+  </div>
+
+<p>Chorus:—This is the voice, etc.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span></p>
+
+
+<p class="center">IV</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Or will you let him live,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The deep-sea thing,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With the wrecks of all the world</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In a black wide ring</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">By the hole in the bottom of the sea</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where the snake goes down,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where he waits in the bottom of the sea</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For the men that drown?</div>
+  </div>
+<p>Chorus:—This is the voice, etc.</p>
+
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_LITTLE_TURTLE">THE LITTLE TURTLE</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p class="center"><i>A Recitation for Martha Wakefield, Three Years Old</i></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">There was a little turtle.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He lived in a box.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He swam in a puddle.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He climbed on the rocks.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He snapped at a musquito.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He snapped at a flea.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He snapped at a minnow.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And he snapped at me.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He caught the musquito.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He caught the flea.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He caught the minnow.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But he didn’t catch me.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THIRD_SECTION">THIRD SECTION
+<br>
+<span class="small">COBWEBS AND CABLES</span></h2>
+</div>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_SCIENTIFIC_ASPIRATION">THE SCIENTIFIC ASPIRATION</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Would that the dry hot wind called Science came,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Forerunner of a higher mystic day,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Though vile machine-made commerce clear the way—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Though nature losing shame should lose her veil,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And ghosts of buried angel-warriors wail</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The fall of Heaven, and the relentless Sun</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Smile on, as Abraham’s God forever dies—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Lord, give us Darwin’s eyes!</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_VISIT_TO_MAB">THE VISIT TO MAB</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">When glad vacation time began</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">A snail-king said to his dear spouse,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">“Come, let us lock our birch-bark house</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And visit some important man.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Each summer we have hoped to go</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">To see the sultan Gingerbread</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">Who wears chopped citron on his head</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And currant love-locks in a row.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“And see his vizier Chocolate Bill</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">And Popcorn Man, his pale young priest.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">They live twelve inches to the east</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Behind the lofty brown-bread hill.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">His wife said: “Simple elegance</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">Is what we want. It is the mode</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">To take the little western road</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To where the blue-grass fairies dance.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“I think the queen will recognize</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">Our atmosphere of wealth and ease.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">My steel-grey shell is sure to please,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And she will fear your fiery eyes.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And so they visited proud Mab.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">The firs were laughing overhead,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">The chattering roses burned deep-red.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The snails were queer and dumb and drab.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The contrast made them quite the thing.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">A setting spells success at times.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">Mab gave the queen a book of rhymes.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A tissue-cap she gave the king,</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like caps the children wear for sport.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">And vainer than he well could say</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">He called gay Mab his “pride and stay,”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With pompous speeches to the court.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">They journeyed home, made young indeed,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">But opening the book of song</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">Each poem looked so deep and long</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They could not bear to start to read.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_SONG_OF_THE_STURDY_SNAILS">THE SONG OF THE STURDY SNAILS</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Gristly bare-bone fingers</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">On my window-pane—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The drumbeat of a ghost</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Louder than the rain!</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh frail, storm-shaken hut—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">No candle, not a spark</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of fire within the grate.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh the lonely dark!</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Trembling by the window</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I watched the lightning flash</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And saw the little villains</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Upon the outer sash</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And other small musicians</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Upon the window-pane—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Garden snails, a-dragging</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Their shells amid the rain!</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The thunder blew away.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">My happiness began.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Over the dripping darkness</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Rills of moonlight ran.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the silence rich</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The scratching of the shells</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Became a crooning music</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A lazy peal of bells.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">So fearless in the night</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">My sluggard brothers bold!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Your fancies swift and glowing;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Your footsteps slow and cold!</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">My happy beggar-brothers</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Tuning all together,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Playing on the pane</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Praise of stormy weather!</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Upon a ragged pillow</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">At last I laid my head</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And watched the sparkling window</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the wan light on my bed.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Through the glass came flying</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Dream snails, with leafy wings—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Glided on the moonbeams—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And all the snails were kings!</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">With crowns of pollen yellow</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And eyes of firefly gold</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Behold—to crooning music</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Their coiling wings unrolled!</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">These tiny kings I saw</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Reigning over white</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bisque jars of fairy flowers</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In sturdy proud delight.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">These jars in fairyland</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Await good snails that keep</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Vigils on the windows</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of beggars fast asleep.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="ANOTHER_WORD_ON_THE_SCIENTIFIC_ASPIRATION">ANOTHER WORD ON THE SCIENTIFIC ASPIRATION</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“There’s machinery in the butterfly.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">There’s a mainspring to the bee.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">There’s hydraulics to a daisy</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And contraptions to a tree.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“If we could see the birdie</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That makes the chirping sound</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With psycho-analytic eyes,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And x ray, scientific eyes,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We could see the wheels go round.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>And I hope all men</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Who think like this</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Will soon lie</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Underground.</i></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="DANCING_FOR_A_PRIZE">DANCING FOR A PRIZE</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Three fairies by the Sangamon</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">Were dancing for a prize.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The rascals were alike indeed</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">As they danced with drooping eyes.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I gave the magic acorn</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">To the one I loved the best,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The imp that made me think of her</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">My heart’s eternal guest,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">My lady of the tea-rose, my lady far away,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">Queen of the fleets of No-Man’s-Land</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That sail to old Cathay.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">How did the trifler hint of her?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Ah, when the dance was done</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">They begged me for the acorn,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Laughing every one.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">Two had eyes of midnight,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And one had golden eyes,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">And I gave the golden acorn</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To the scamp with golden eyes.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">Confessor Dandelion,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">My priest so grey and wise</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">Whispered when I gave it</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To the girl with golden eyes:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">“She is like your Queen of Glory</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">On China’s holy strand</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">Who drove the coiling dragons</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like doves before her hand.”</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="COLD_SUNBEAMS">COLD SUNBEAMS</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Question:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Tell me, where do fairy queens</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Find their bridal veils?”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Answer:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“If you were now a fairy queen</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then I, your faithless page and bold</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Would win the realm by winning you.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Your veil would be transparent gold</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">White magic spiders wove for you</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">At cold grey dawn, from sunbeams cold</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While robins sang amid the dew.”</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="FOR_ALL_WHO_EVER_SENT_LACE_VALENTINES">FOR ALL WHO EVER SENT LACE VALENTINES</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The little-boy lover</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And little-girl lover</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Met the first time</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">At the house of a friend.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And great the respect</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of the little-boy lover.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The awe and the fear of her</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Stayed to the end.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The little girl chattered</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Incessantly chattered,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Hardly would look</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When he tried to be nice.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But deeply she trembled</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The little-girl lover,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Eaten with flame</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While she tried to be ice.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The lion of loving</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The terrible lion</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Woke in the two</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Long before they could wed.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The world said: “Child hearts</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">You must keep till the summer.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">It is not allowed</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That your hearts should be red.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">If only a wizard</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A kindly grey wizard</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Had built them a house</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In a cave underground.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With an emerald door,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And honey to eat!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But it seemed that no wizard</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Was waiting around.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh children with fancies,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The rarest of notions,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The rarest of passions</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And hopes here below!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Many a child,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His young heart too timid</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Has fled from his princess</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">No other to know.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I have seen them with faces</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like books out of Heaven,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With messages there</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The harsh world should read,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The lions and roses and lilies of love,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Its tender, mystic, tyrannical need.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Were I god of the village</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">My servants should mate them.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Were I priest of the church</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I would set them apart.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">If the wide state were mine</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">It should live for such darlings,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And hedge with all shelter</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The child-wedded heart.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="MY_LADY_IS_COMPARED_TO_A_YOUNG_TREE">MY LADY IS COMPARED TO A YOUNG TREE</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">When I see a young tree</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In its white beginning,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With white leaves</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And white buds</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Barely tipped with green,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the April weather,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the weeping sunshine—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then I see my lady,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">My democratic queen,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Standing free and equal</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With the youngest woodland sapling</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Swaying, singing in the wind,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Delicate and white:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Soul so near to blossom,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Fragile, strong as death;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A kiss from far off Eden,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A flash of Judgment’s trumpet—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">April’s breath.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="TO_EVE_MANS_DREAM_OF_WIFEHOOD_AS_DESCRIBED_BY_MILTON">TO EVE, MAN’S DREAM OF WIFEHOOD AS DESCRIBED BY MILTON</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Darling of Milton—when that marble man</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Saw you in shadow, coming from God’s hand</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Serene and young, did he not chant for you</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Praises more quaint than he could understand?</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“To justify the ways of God to man”—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">So, self-deceived, his printed purpose runs.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His love for you is the true key to him,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Uriel and Michael were your sons.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Your bosom nurtured his Urania.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Your meek voice, piercing through his midnight sleep</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Shook him far more than silver chariot wheels</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Or rattling shields, or trumpets of the deep.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Titan and lover, could he be content</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With Eden’s narrow setting for your spell?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">You wound soft arms around his brows. He smiled</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And grimly for your home built Heaven and Hell.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">That was his posy. A strange gift, indeed.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We bring you what we can, not what is fit.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Eve, dream of wifehood! Each man in his way</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Serves you with chants according to his wit.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_KIND_OF_SCORN">A KIND OF SCORN</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">You do not know my pride</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Or the storm of scorn I ride.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I am too proud to kiss you and leave you</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Without wonders</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Spreading round you like flame.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I am too proud to leave you</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Without love</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Haunting your very name:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Until you bear the Grail</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Above your head in splendor</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">O child, dear and pale.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I am too proud to leave you</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Though we part forevermore</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till all your thoughts</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Go up toward Glory’s door.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh, I am but a sinner proud and poor,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Utterly without merit</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To help you climb in wonder</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A stair toward Heaven’s door—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Except that I have prayed my God,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And He will give the Grail,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And you will mourn no longer,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Beset, confused, and pale.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And God will lift you far on high,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The while I pray and pray</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Until the hour I die.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The effectual fervent prayer availeth much.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And my first prayer ascends this proud harsh day.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="HARPS_IN_HEAVEN">HARPS IN HEAVEN</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I will bring you great harps in Heaven,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Made of giant shells</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">From the jasper sea.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With a thousand burnt up years behind,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">What then of the gulf from you to me?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">It will be but the width of a thread,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Or the narrowest leaf of our sheltering tree.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">You dare not refuse my harps in Heaven.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Or angels will mock you, and turn away.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Or with angel wit,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Will praise your eyes,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And your pure Greek lips, and bid you play,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And sing of the love from them to you,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And then of my poor flaming heart</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the far off earth, when the years were new.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I will bring you such harps in Heaven</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That they will shake at your touch and breath,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Whose threads are rainbows,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Seventy times seven,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Whose voice is life, and silence death.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_CELESTIAL_CIRCUS">THE CELESTIAL CIRCUS</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">In Heaven, if not on earth,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">You and I will be dancing.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I will whirl you over my head,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A torch and a flag and a bird,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A hawk that loves my shoulder,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A dove with plumes outspread.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We will whirl for God when the trumpets</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Speak the millennial word.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">We will howl in praise of God,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Dervish and young cyclone.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We will ride in the joy of God</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">On circus horses white.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Your feet will be white lightning,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Your spangles white and regal,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We will leap from the horses’ backs</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To the cliffs of day and night.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">We will have our rest in the pits of sleep</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When the darkness heaps upon us,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And buries us for æons</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till we rise like grass in the spring.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We will come like dandelions,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like buttercups and crocuses,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And all the winter of our sleep</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But make us storm and sing.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">We will tumble like swift foam</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">On the wave-crests of old ghostland,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And dance on the crafts of doom,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And wrestle on the moon.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Saturn and his triple ring</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Will be our tinsel circus,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till all sad wraiths of yesterday</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With the stars rejoice and croon.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">O dancer, love undying,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">My soul, my swan, my eagle,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The first of our million dancing years</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Dawns, dawns soon.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_FIRE-LADDIE_LOVE">THE FIRE-LADDIE, LOVE</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span></p><div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The door has a bolt.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The window a grate.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">O friend we are trapped</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the factory, Fate.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The flames pierce the ceiling.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The brands heap the floor.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But listen, dear heart:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A song at the door!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The forcing of bolts,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The hewing of oak!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A sword breaks the lock</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With one cleaving stroke.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Naked and fair</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Unscathed and wild</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Behold he comes swiftly,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">An elfin-eyed child.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The fire-laddie, <i>Love</i>,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Is our hero this night,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">As he walks on the embers</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His plumes are cloud white.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He sings of the lightning</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And snow of desire,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His step parts the veil</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of the factory fire.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh his chubby child hands,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh his long curls agleam,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">From out their soft tossing</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Comes thunder and dream.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Our fire-laddie, Love,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">At the last moment here,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To bear us away</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To a road without fear,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To the dark, to the wind,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To the mist, to the dawn,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where the lilac blooms nod</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">By the rain renewed lawn.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To a land of deep knowledge</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Our tired feet are led,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While the stars of new morning</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Still glint overhead.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sweet Love walks between us</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With silences long.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His step is the music.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The day is the song.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="FOURTH_SECTION">FOURTH SECTION<br>
+<span class="small">
+RHYMES CONCERNING THE LATE WORLD WAR AND THE NEXT WAR</span></h2>
+</div>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="IN_MEMORY_OF_MY_FRIEND_JOYCE_KILMER_POET_AND_SOLDIER">IN MEMORY OF MY FRIEND JOYCE KILMER, POET AND SOLDIER</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p class="center"><i>Written Armistice Day, November eleventh, 1918</i></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I hear a thousand chimes,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I hear ten thousand chimes,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I hear a million chimes</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In Heaven.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I see a thousand bells,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I see ten thousand bells,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I see a million bells</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In Heaven.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Listen, friends and companions.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Through the deep heart,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sweetly they toll.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I hear the chimes</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of tomorrow ring,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The azure bells</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of eternal love....</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I see the chimes</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of tomorrow swing:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">On unseen ropes</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They gleam above.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Rejoice, friends and companions.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Through the deep heart</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sweetly they toll.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">They shake the sky</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They blaze and sing.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They fill the air</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like larks a-wing,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like storm-clouds</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Turned to blue-bell flowers.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like Spring gone mad,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like stars in showers.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Join the song,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Friends and companions.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Through the deep heart</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sweetly they toll.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And some are near,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And touch my hand,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Small whispering blooms</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">From Beulah Land.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Giants afar</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Still touch the sky,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Still give their giant</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Battle-cry.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Join hands, friends and companions.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Through the deep heart</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sweetly they toll.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And every bell</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Is voice and breath</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of a spirit</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Who has conquered death,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In this great war</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Has given all,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like Kilmer</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Heard the hero-call.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Join hands,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Poets,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Friends,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Companions.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Through the deep heart</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sweetly they toll!</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_TIGER_ON_PARADE">THE TIGER ON PARADE</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Sparrow and the Robin on a toot</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Drunk on honey-dew and violet’s breath</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Came knocking at the brazen bars of Death.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Death, no other than a tiger caged,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In a street parade that had no ending,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Roared at them and clawed at them and raged—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Whose chirping was the height of their offending.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His paws too big—their fluttering bodies small</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Escaped unscathed above the City Hall.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">They learned new dances, scattering birdy laughter,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And filled again their throats with honey-dew.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A Maltese kitten killed them, two days after.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But they had had their fill. It was enough:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Had quarreled, made up, on many a lilac swayed,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Darted through sunny thunder-clouds and rainbows,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">High above that tiger on parade.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_FEVER_CALLED_WAR">THE FEVER CALLED WAR</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Love and Kindness,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Two sad shadows</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Over the old nations,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bigger than the world,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Mists above a grave!</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Says Love, the shadow</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To Kindness the shadow:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“I weep for the children</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">No miracle will save.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">All the little children</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Are down with the fever,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Thousands upon thousands,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Blind and deaf and mad.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Their fathers are all dead,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the same raging fever</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Is burning up the children,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The babes that once were glad.”</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="STANZAS_IN_JUST_THE_RIGHT_TONE_FOR_THE_SPIRITED_GENTLEMEN_WHO_WOULD">STANZAS IN JUST THE RIGHT TONE FOR THE SPIRITED GENTLEMEN WHO WOULD
+CONQUER MEXICO</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Alexander</span></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Would I might waken in you Alexander,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Murdering the nations wickedly,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Flooding his time with blood remorselessly,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sowing new Empires, where the Athenian light,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Knowledge and music, slay the Asian night,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And men behold Apollo in the sun.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God make us splendid, though by grievous wrong.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God make us fierce and strong.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Mohammed</span></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Would that on horses swifter than desire</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">We rode behind Mohammed ’round the zones</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With swords unceasing, sowing fields of bones,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till New America, ancient Mizraim,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Cry: “Allah is the God of Abraham.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God make our host relentless as the sun,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Each soul your spear, your banner and your slave,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God help us to be brave.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Napoleon</span></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Would that the cold adventurous Corsican</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Woke with new hope of glory, strong from sleep,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Instructed how to conquer and to keep</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">More justly, having dreamed awhile, yea crowned</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With shining flowers, God-given; while the sound</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of singing continents, following the sun,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Calls freeborn men to guard Napoleon’s throne</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Who makes the eternal hopes of man his own.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_MODEST_JAZZ-BIRD">THE MODEST JAZZ-BIRD</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Jazz-bird sings a barnyard song—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">A cock-a-doodle bray,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A jingle-bells, a boiler works,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">A he-man’s roundelay.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The eagle said, “My noisy son,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">I send you out to fight!”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">So the youngster spread his sunflower wings</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">And roared with all his might.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">His headlight eyes went flashing</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">From Oregon to Maine;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the land was dark with airships</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">In the darting Jazz-bird’s train.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Crossing the howling ocean,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">His bell-mouth shook the sky;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the Yankees in the trenches</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">Gave back the hue and cry.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span></p>
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Europe had not heard the like—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">And Germany went down!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The fowl of steel with clashing claws</div>
+    <div class="verse indent4">Tore off the Kaiser’s crown.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span></p>
+<p>When the statue of Andrew Jackson before the White House in Washington
+is removed, America is doomed. The nobler days of America’s innocence,
+in which it was set up, always have a special tang for those who are
+tasty. But this is not all. It is only the America that has the courage
+of her complete past that can hold up her head in the world of the
+artists, priests and sages. It is for us to put the iron dog and deer
+back upon the lawn, the John Rogers group back into the parlor, and get
+new inspiration from these and from Andrew Jackson ramping in bronze
+replica in New Orleans, Nashville and Washington, and add to them a
+sense of humor, till it becomes a sense of beauty that will resist the
+merely dulcet and affettuoso.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Please read Lorado Taft’s <i>History of American Sculpture</i>, pages
+123-127, with these matters in mind. I quote a few bits:</p>
+
+<p>“... The maker of the first equestrian statue in the history of
+American sculpture: Clark Mills.... Never having seen General Jackson
+or an equestrian statue, he felt himself incompetent ... the incident,
+however, made an impression on his mind, and he reflected sufficiently
+to produce a design which was the very one subsequently<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> executed....
+Congress appropriated the old cannon captured by General Jackson....
+Having no notion, nor even suspicion of a dignified sculptural
+treatment of a theme, the clever carpenter felt, nevertheless, the need
+of a feature.... He built a colossal horse, adroitly balanced on the
+hind legs, and America gazed with bated breath. Nobody knows or cares
+whether the rider looks like Jackson or not.</p>
+
+<p>“The extraordinary pose of the horse absorbs all attention, all
+admiration. There may be some subconscious feeling of respect for a
+rider who holds on so well....”</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_STATUE_OF_OLD_ANDREW_JACKSON">THE STATUE OF OLD ANDREW JACKSON</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Written while America was in the midst of the war with Germany,
+August, 1918</i></p>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Andrew Jackson was eight feet tall.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His arm was a hickory limb and a maul.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His sword was so long he dragged it on the ground.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Every friend was an equal. Every foe was a hound.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Andrew Jackson was a Democrat,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Defying kings in his old cocked hat.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His vast steed rocked like a hobby horse.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But he sat straight up. He held his course.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He licked the British at Noo Orleens;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Beat them out of their elegant jeans.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He piled the cotton-bales twenty feet high,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And he snorted “freedom,” and it flashed from his eye.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the American Eagle swooped through the air,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And cheered when he heard the Jackson swear:—</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“By the Eternal, let them come.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sound Yankee Doodle. Let the bullets hum.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And his wild men, straight from the woods, fought on</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till the British fops were dead and gone.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And now Old Andrew Jackson fights</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To set the sad big world to rights.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He joins the British and the French.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He cheers up the Italian trench.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He’s making Democrats of these,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And freedom’s sons of Japanese.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His hobby horse will gallop on</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till all the infernal Huns are gone.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yes,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yes,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yes!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">By the Eternal!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Old Andrew Jackson!</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="SEW_THE_FLAGS_TOGETHER">SEW THE FLAGS TOGETHER</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Great wave of youth, ere you be spent,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sweep over every monument</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of caste, smash every high imperial wall</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That stands against the new World State,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And overwhelm each ravening hate,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And heal, and make blood-brothers of us all.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Nor let your clamor cease</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till ballots conquer guns.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Drum on for the world’s peace</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till the Tory power is gone.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Envenomed lame old age</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Is not our heritage,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But springtime’s vast release, and flaming dawn.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Peasants, rise in splendor</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And your accounting render</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Ere the lords unnerve your hand!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sew the flags together.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Do not tear them down.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Hurl the worlds together.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Dethrone the wallowing monster</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the clown.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Resolving:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Only that shall grow</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In Balkan furrow, Chinese row,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That blooms, and is perpetually young.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That only be held fine and dear</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That brings heart-wisdom year by year</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And puts this thrilling word upon the tongue:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“The United States of Europe, Asia, and the World.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Youth will be served,” now let us cry.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Hurl the referendum.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Your fathers, five long years ago,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Resolved to strike, too late.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Now</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sun-crowned crowds</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Innumerable,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of boys and girls</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Imperial,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With your patchwork flag of brotherhood</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">On high,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With every silk</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In one flower-banner whirled—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Rise,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Citizens of one tremendous state,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The United States of Europe, Asia, and the World.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The dawn is rose-drest and impearled.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The guards of privilege are spent.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The blood-fed captains nod.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">So Saxon, Slav, French, German,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Rise,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yankee, Chinese, Japanese,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">All the lands, all the seas,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With the blazing rainbow flag unfurled,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Rise, rise,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Take the sick dragons by surprise,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Highly establish,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the name of God,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The United States of Europe, Asia, and the World.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>Written for William Stanley Braithwaite’s Victory Anthology
+issued at once, after Armistice Day, November, 1918.</p>
+</div>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="JUSTINIAN">JUSTINIAN</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>The Tory Reply</i>)</p>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Nay, let us have the marble peace of Rome,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Recorded in the Code Justinian,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till Pagan Justice shelters man from man.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Fanatics snarl like mongrel dogs; the code</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Will build each custom like a Roman Road,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Direct as daylight, clear-eyed as the sun.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God grant all crazy world-disturbers cease.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God give us honest peace.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_VOICE_OF_ST_FRANCIS_OF_ASSISI">THE VOICE OF ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I saw St. Francis by a stream</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Washing his wounds that bled.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The aspens quivered overhead.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The silver doves flew round.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Weeping and sore dismayed</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Peace, peace,” St. Francis prayed.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">But the soft doves quickly fled.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Carrion crows flew round.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">An earthquake rocked the ground.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“War, war,” the west wind said.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="IN_WHICH_ROOSEVELT_IS_COMPARED_TO_SAUL">IN WHICH ROOSEVELT IS COMPARED TO SAUL</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p class="hang"><i>Written and published in 1913, and republished five years
+later, in The Boston Transcript, on the death of Roosevelt.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where is David?... Oh God’s people</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Saul has passed, the good and great.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Mourn for Saul, the first anointed,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Head and shoulders o’er the state.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He was found among the prophets:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Judge and monarch, merged in one.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But the wars of Saul are ended,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the works of Saul are done.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where is David, ruddy shepherd,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God’s boy-king for Israel?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Mystic, ardent, dowered with beauty,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Singing where still waters dwell?</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Prophet, find that destined minstrel</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Wandering on the range today,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Driving sheep, and crooning softly</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Psalms that cannot pass away.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“David waits,” the prophet answers,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“In a black, notorious den,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In a cave upon the border,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With four hundred outlaw men.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“He is fair and loved of women,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Mighty hearted, born to sing:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Thieving, weeping, erring, praying,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Radiant, royal rebel-king.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“He will come with harp and psaltry,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Quell his troop of convict swine,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Quell his mad-dog roaring rascals,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Witching them with tunes divine.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">“They will ram the walls of Zion,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They will win us Salem hill,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">All for David, shepherd David,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Singing like a mountain rill.”</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="HAIL_TO_THE_SONS_OF_ROOSEVELT">HAIL TO THE SONS OF ROOSEVELT</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>“<i>Out of the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong
+came forth sweetness.</i>”—<i>Samson’s riddle.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">There is no name for brother</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like the name of Jonathan</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The son of Saul.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And so we greet you all:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The sons of Roosevelt—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The sons of Saul.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Four brother Jonathans went out to battle.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Let every Yankee poet sing their praise</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Through all the days—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">What David sang of Saul</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Jonathan, beloved more than all.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">God grant such sons, begot of our young men,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To make each generation glad again.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Let sons of Saul be springing up again:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Out of the eater, fire and power again.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">From the lost lion, honey for all men.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I hear the sacred Rocky Mountains call,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I hear the Mississippi Jordan call:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“<i>Stand up, America, and praise them all,</i></div>
+    <div class="verse indent2"><i>Living and dead, the fine young sons of Saul!</i>”</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_SPACIOUS_DAYS_OF_ROOSEVELT">THE SPACIOUS DAYS OF ROOSEVELT</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">These were the spacious days of Roosevelt.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Would that among you chiefs like him arose</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To win the wrath of our united foes,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To chain King Mammon in the donjon-keep,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To rouse our godly citizens that sleep</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till as one soul, we shout up to the sun</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The battle-yell of freedom and the right—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Lord, let good men unite.”</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Nay, I would have you lonely and despised.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Statesmen whom only statesmen understand,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Artists whom only artists can command,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sages whom all but sages scorn, whose fame</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Dies down in lies, in synonyms for shame</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With the best populace beneath the sun.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God give us tasks that martyrs can revere,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Still too much hated to be whispered here.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Would we might drink, with knowledge high and kind</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The hemlock cup of Socrates the king,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Knowing right well we know not anything,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With full life done, bowing before the law,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Binding young thinkers’ hearts with loyal awe,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And fealty fixed as the ever-enduring sun—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God let us live, seeking the highest light,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God help us die aright.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Nay, I would have you grand, and still forgotten,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Hid like the stars at noon, as he who set</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Egyptian magic of man’s alphabet;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Or that far Coptic, first to dream in pain</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That dauntless souls cannot by death be slain—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Conquering for all men then, the fearful grave.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God keep us hid, yet vaster far than death.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">God help us to be brave.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="FIFTH_SECTION">FIFTH SECTION<br>
+RHYMES OF THE MIDDLE WEST AND SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS</h2>
+</div>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="WHEN_THE_MISSISSIPPI_FLOWED_IN_INDIANA">WHEN THE MISSISSIPPI FLOWED IN INDIANA</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Inscribed to Bruce Campbell, who read</i> Tom Sawyer <i>with me in
+the old house</i></p>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Beneath Time’s roaring cannon</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Many walls fall down.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But though the guns break every stone,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Level every town:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Within our Grandma’s old front hall</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Some wonders flourish yet:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The Pavement of Verona,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where stands young Juliet,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The roof of Blue-beard’s palace,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Kublai Khan’s wild ground,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The cave of young Aladdin,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where the jewel-flowers were found,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the garden of old Sparta</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where little Helen played,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The grotto of Miranda</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That Prospero arrayed,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the cave, by the Mississippi,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where Becky Thatcher strayed.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">On that Indiana stairway</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Gleams Cinderella’s shoe.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Upon that mighty mountainside</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Walks Snow-white in the dew.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Upon that grassy hillside</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Trips shining Nicolette:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That stairway of remembrance</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Time’s cannon will not get—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That chattering slope of glory</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Our little cousins made,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That hill by the Mississippi</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where Becky Thatcher strayed.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Spring beauties on that cliffside,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Love in the air,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While the soul’s deep Mississippi</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sweeps on, forever fair.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And he who enters in the cave,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Nothing shall make afraid,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The cave by the Mississippi</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Where Tom and Becky strayed.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_FAIRY_FROM_THE_APPLE-SEED">THE FAIRY FROM THE APPLE-SEED</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh apple-seed I planted in a silly shallow place</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In a bowl of wrought silver, with Sangamon earth within it,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh baby tree that came, without an apple on it,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A tree that grew a tiny height, but thickened on apace,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With bossy glossy arms, and leaves of trembling lace.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">One night the trunk was rent, and the heavy bowl rocked round,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The boughs were bending here and there, with a curious locust sound,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And a tiny dryad came, from out the doll tree,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And held the boughs in ivory hands,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And waved her black hair round,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And climbed, and ate with merry words</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The sudden fruit it bore.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And in the leaves she hides and sings</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And guards my study door.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">She guards it like a watchdog true</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And robbers run away.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Her eyes are lifted spears all night,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But dove-eyes in the day.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And she is stranger, stronger</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Than the funny human race.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Lovelier her form, and holier her face.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She feeds me flowers and fruit</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With a quaint grace.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">She dresses in the apple-leaves</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">As delicate as lace.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">This girl that came from Sangamon earth</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In a bowl of silver bright</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">From an apple-seed I planted in a silly shallow place.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_HOT_TIME_IN_THE_OLD_TOWN">A HOT TIME IN THE OLD TOWN</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Guns salute, and crows and pigeons fly,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bronzed, Homeric bards go striding by,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Shouting “Glory” amid the cannonade:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">It is the cross-roads</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Resurrection</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Parade.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Actors, craftsmen, builders, join the throng,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Painters, sculptors, florists tramp along,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Farm-boys prance, in tinsel, tin and jade:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">It is the cross-roads</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Love and Laughter</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Crusade.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The sun is blazing big as all the sky,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The mustard-plant with the sunflower climbing high,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With the Indian corn in fiery plumes arrayed:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">It is the cross-roads</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Love and Beauty</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Crusade.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Free and proud and mellow jamboree,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Roar and foam upon the prairie sea,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Tom turkeys sing the sun a serenade:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">It is the cross-roads</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Resurrection</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Parade.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Our sweethearts dance, with wands as white as milk,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With veils of gold and robes of silver silk,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Their caps in velvet pansy-patterns made:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">It is the cross-roads</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Resurrection</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Parade.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Wandering ’round the shrines we understand,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Waving oak-boughs cheap and close at hand,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And field-flowers fair, for which no man has paid:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">It is the cross-roads</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Love and Beauty</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Crusade.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Hieroglyphic marchers here we bring.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Rich inscriptions strut and talk and sing.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A scroll to read, a picture-word brigade:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">It is the cross-roads</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Love and Laughter</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Crusade.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Swans for symbols deck the banners rare,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Mighty acorn-signs command the air,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For hearts of oak, by flying beauty swayed:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">It is the cross-roads</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Resurrection</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Parade.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">The flags are big, like rainbows flashing ’round,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They spread like sails, and lift us from the ground,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Star-born ships, that have come in masquerade:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">It is the cross-roads</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Resurrection</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Parade.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_DREAM_OF_ALL_THE_SPRINGFIELD_WRITERS">THE DREAM OF ALL THE SPRINGFIELD WRITERS</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I’ll haunt this town, though gone the maids and men,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The darling few, my friends and loves today.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">My ghost returns, bearing a great sword-pen</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When far off children of their children play.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">That pen will drip with moonlight and with fire.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I’ll write upon the church-doors and the walls.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And reading there, young hearts shall leap the higher</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Though drunk already with their own love-calls.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Still led of love and arm in arm, strange gold</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Shall find in tracing the far-speeding track</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The dauntless war-cries that my sword-pen bold</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Shall carve on terraces and tree-trunks black—</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">On tree-trunks black beneath the blossoms white:—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Just as the phosphorent merman, bound for home</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Jewels his fire-path in the tides at night</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While hurrying sea-babes follow through the foam.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And in December when the leaves are dead</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the first snow has carpeted the street</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While young cheeks flush a healthful Christmas red</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And young eyes glisten with youth’s fervor sweet—</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">My pen shall cut in winter’s snowy floor</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Cries that in channelled glory leap and shine,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">My Village Gospel, living evermore</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Amid rejoicing, loyal friends of mine.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_SPRINGFIELD_OF_THE_FAR_FUTURE">THE SPRINGFIELD OF THE FAR FUTURE</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Some day our town will grow old.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“She is wicked and raw,” men say,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">“Awkward and brash and profane.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But the years have a healing way.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The years of God are like bread,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Balm of Gilead and sweet.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the soul of this little town</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Our Father will make complete.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Some day our town will grow old,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Filled with the fullness of time,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Treasure on treasure heaped</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of beauty’s tradition sublime.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Proud and gay and grey</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like Hannah with Samuel blest.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Humble and girlish and white</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like Mary, the manger guest.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like Mary the manger queen</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bringing the God of Light</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till Christmas is here indeed</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And earth has no more of night,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And hosts of Magi come,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The wisest under the sun</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bringing frankincense and praise</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For her gift of the Infinite One.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="AFTER_READING_THE_SAD_STORY_OF_THE_FALL_OF_BABYLON">AFTER READING THE SAD STORY OF THE FALL OF BABYLON</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh Lady, my city, and new flower of the prairie,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">What have we to do with this long time ago?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Oh lady love,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Bud of tomorrow,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With eyes that hold the hundred years</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Yet to ebb and flow,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And breasts that burn</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With great great grandsons</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">All their valor, all their tears,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A century hence shall know,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">What have we to do</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With this long time ago?</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="ALEXANDER_CAMPBELL">ALEXANDER CAMPBELL</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>“The present material universe, yet unrevealed in all its area, in
+all its tenantries, in all its riches, beauty and grandeur will be
+wholly regenerated. Of this fact we have full assurance since He that
+now sits upon the throne of the Universe has pledged His word for it,
+saying: ‘Behold I will create all things new,’ consequently, ‘new
+heavens, new earth,’ consequently, new tenantries, new employments,
+new pleasures, new joys, new ecstasies. There is a fullness of joy, a
+fullness of glory and a fullness of blessedness of which no living man,
+however enlightened, however enlarged, however gifted, ever formed or
+entertained one adequate conception.”</p>
+
+<p>The above is the closing paragraph in Alexander Campbell’s last essay
+in the <i>Millennial Harbinger</i>, which he had edited thirty-five
+years. This paragraph appeared November, 1865, four months before his
+death.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="I-MY_FATHERS_CAME_FROM_KENTUCKY">I—MY FATHERS CAME FROM KENTUCKY</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I was born in Illinois,—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Have lived there many days.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And I have Northern words,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And thoughts,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And ways.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">But my great grandfathers came</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To the west with Daniel Boone,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And taught his babes to read,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And heard the red-bird’s tune;</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And heard the turkey’s call,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And stilled the panther’s cry,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And rolled on the blue-grass hills,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And looked God in the eye.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">And feud and Hell were theirs;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Love, like the moon’s desire,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Love like a burning mine,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Love like rifle-fire.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I tell tales out of school</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till these Yankees hate my style.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Why should the young cad cry,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Shout with joy for a mile?</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Why do I faint with love</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till the prairies dip and reel?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">My heart is a kicking horse</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Shod with Kentucky steel.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">No drop of my blood from north</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of Mason and Dixon’s line.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And this racer in my breast</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Tears my ribs for a sign.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">But I ran in Kentucky hills</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Last week. They were hearth and home....</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the church at Grassy Springs,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Under the red-bird’s wings</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Was peace and honeycomb.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="II-WRITTEN_IN_A_YEAR_WHEN_MANY_OF_MY_PEOPLE_DIED">II—WRITTEN IN A YEAR WHEN MANY OF MY PEOPLE DIED</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I have begun to count my dead.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They wave green branches</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Around my head,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Put their hands upon my shoulders,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Stand behind me,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Fly above me—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Presences that love me.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">They watch me daily,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Murmuring, gravely, gaily,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Praising, reproving, readily.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And every year that company</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Grows the greater, steadily.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And every day I count my dead</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In robes of sunrise, blue and red.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="III-A_RHYMED_ADDRESS_TO_ALL_RENEGADE_CAMPBELLITES_EXHORTING_THEM_TO">III—A RHYMED ADDRESS TO ALL RENEGADE CAMPBELLITES, EXHORTING THEM TO
+RETURN</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+
+<p class="center">I</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">O prodigal son, O recreant daughter,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When broken by the death of a child</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">You called for the greybeard Campbellite elder,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Who spoke as of old in the wild.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His voice held echoes of the deep woods of Kentucky.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He towered in apostolic state,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While the portrait of Campbell emerged from the dark:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That genius beautiful and great.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And millennial trumpets poised, half lifted,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Millennial trumpets that wait.</div>
+  </div>
+
+
+<p class="center">II</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like the woods of old Kentucky</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The memories of childhood</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Arch up to where gold chariot wheels go ringing,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To where the precious airs are terraces and roadways</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For witnesses to God, forever singing.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Like Mammoth Cave, Kentucky, the memories of childhood</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Go in and in forever underground</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To river and fountain of whispering and mystery</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And many a haunted hall without a sound.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To Indian hoards and carvings and graveyards unexplored.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To pits so deep a torch turns to a star</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Whirling ’round and going down to the deepest rocks of earth,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To the fiery roots of forests brave and far.</div>
+  </div>
+
+<p class="center">III</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">As I built cob-houses with small cousins on the floor:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">(The talk was not meant for me).</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Daguerreotypes shone. The back log sizzled</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And my grandmother traced the family tree.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then she swept to the proverbs of Campbell again.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And we glanced at the portrait of that most benign of men</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Looking down through the evening gleam</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With a bit of Andrew Jackson’s air,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">More of Henry Clay</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the statesmen of Thomas Jefferson’s day:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With the face of age,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the flush of youth,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And that air of going on, forever free.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">For once upon a time ...</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Long, long ago ...</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the holy forest land</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">There was a jolly pre-millennial band,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When that text-armed apostle, Alexander Campbell</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Held deathless debate with the wicked “infi-del.”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The clearing was a picnic ground.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Squirrels were barking.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The seventeen year locust charged by.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Wild turkeys perched on high.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And millions of wild pigeons</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Broke the limbs of trees,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Then shut out the sun, as they swept on their way.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But ah, the wilder dove of God flew down</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To bring a secret glory, and to stay,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With the proud hunter-trappers, patriarchs that came</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To break bread together and to pray</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And oh the music of each living throbbing thing</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">When Campbell arose,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">A pillar of fire,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The great high priest of the Spring.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">He stepped from out the Brush Run Meeting House</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">To make the big woods his cathedrals,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The river his baptismal font,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The rolling clouds his bells,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The storming skies his waterfalls,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His pastures and his wells.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Despite all sternness in his word</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Richer grew the rushing blood</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Within our fathers’ coldest thought.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Imagination at the flood</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Made flowery all they heard.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The deep communion cup</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of the whole South lifted up.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Who were the witnesses, the great cloud of witnesses</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With which he was compassed around?</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The heroes of faith from the days of Abraham</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Stood on that blue-grass ground—</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While the battle-ax of thought</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Hewed to the bone</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That the utmost generation</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Till the world was set right</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Might have an America their own.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">For religion Dionysian</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Was far from Campbell’s doctrine.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">He preached with faultless logic</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">An American Millennium:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The social order</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of a realist and farmer</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With every neighbor</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Within stone wall and border.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the tongues of flame came down</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Almost in spite of him.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And now all but that Pentecost is dim.</div>
+  </div>
+
+
+<p class="center">IV</p>
+
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I walk the forest by the Daniel Boone trail.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">By guide posts quaint.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the blazes are faint</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">In the rough old bark</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of silver poplars</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And elms once slim,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Now monoliths tall.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I walk the aisle,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The cathedral hall</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">That is haunted still</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With chariots dim,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Whispering still</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With debate and call.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">I come to you from Campbell.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Turn again, prodigal</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Haunted by his name!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Artist, singer, builder,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">The forest’s son or daughter!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">You, the blasphemer</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Will yet know repentance,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And Campbell old and grey</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Will lead you to the dream-side</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Of a pennyroyal river.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While your proud heart is shaken</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Your confession will be taken</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And your sins baptized away.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">You, statesman-philosopher,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Sage with high conceit</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Who speak of revolutions, in long words,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And guide the little world as best you may:</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">I come to you from Campbell</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And say he rides your way</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And will wait with you the coming of his day.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">His horse still threads the forest,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Though the storm be roaring down....</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Campbell enters now your log-house door.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Indeed you make him welcome, after many years,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">While the children build cob-houses on the floor.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent2">Let a thousand prophets have their due.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Let each have his boat in the sky.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">But you were born for his secular millennium</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">With the old Kentucky forest blooming like Heaven,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And the red birds flying high.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="center p4">THE END</p>
+
+
+<p class="center p4">PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
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+<div class="chapter transnote">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber’s Notes</h2>
+
+<p>Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations
+in hyphenation and accents have been standardised but all other
+spelling and punctuation remains unchanged.</p>
+
+</div>
+
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+<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN WHALES OF CALIFORNIA AND OTHER RHYMES IN THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE ***</div>
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