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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-12 15:21:02 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-12 15:21:02 -0800 |
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diff --git a/75356-h/75356-h.htm b/75356-h/75356-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..edf6b4d --- /dev/null +++ b/75356-h/75356-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2360 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Do You Believe in Fairies? | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } +table.autotable td { padding: 0.25em; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} /* page numbers */ + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + + +/* Poetry */ +/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry */ +.poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} + +/* Poetry indents */ +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3.0em;} +.poetry .indent2 {text-indent: -2.0em;} +.poetry .indent4 {text-indent: -1.0em;} +.poetry .indent8 {text-indent: 1.0em;} +.poetry .indent18 {text-indent: 6.0em;} +.poetry .indent22 {text-indent: 8.0em;} + +.x-ebookmaker body {margin: 0;} +.x-ebookmaker-drop {color: inherit;} + +.ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } +.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } +.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } +.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } + +.tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; +padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; padding-left: .5em; +padding-right: .5em;} + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75356 ***</div> + + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="ph2"> +Do You<br> +Believe<br> +in<br> +Fairies?</p> +<br> +<p class="ph4">by<br></p> +<p class="ph3">Leonora de Lima Andrews<br></p> +<br> +<br> +<p class="ph3"><span class="smcap">Literary Commodities</span><br></p> +<p class="ph4">25 West 43rd Street<br> +New York, N. Y.<br> +</p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="ph4"> +Copyrighted 1924<br> +by<br> +Literary Commodities<br> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="TABLE_OF_CONTENTS">TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2></div> + + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">The Little Girl</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">To Please Eight and a Half</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">The Music Charm</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">The Tale of the Fretful Child</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Ballade for Believers in Fairies</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">The Revenge of Gobble-me-up</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">The Piper</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Richard the Lion-Hearted</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Daughter-Goose Rhymes</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Beauty and the Beach</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Sensations of Swinburning</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Day Dreams</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Rain in the City at Night</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Christmas</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Romantic Adventure into Religion</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Sunday</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">New Year’s Day</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Silence</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Bluffing</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">The Delicatessen Shop</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Listening In</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Mt. Riga Road</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Rain</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Growing Pains</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Adolescence</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">To ——</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Fragment</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">To Marie</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Freudianisms</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">The Old Man Speaks</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Ballade for Moralists</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Heaven at Last</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">The Future</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<h1> +DO YOU BELIEVE IN FAIRIES?</h1> + +<p class="ph3">(A book of fantasy for grown-up children)<br> +</p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a><a id="Page_7"></a>[Pg 7]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_LITTLE_GIRL">THE LITTLE GIRL</h2></div> + + +<p>The little girl ran and ran and let the wind +blow her hair until it stood out behind her as +though it were wired. The air was so clear +and blue that she thought: “If I jump a little +I will land on the top of that mountain over +there.”</p> + +<p>But she didn’t jump. It would have been +taking a mean advantage of the mountain, +she thought. She would just fly up the side +of it, much as she was flying along the road +now. And when she had gotten to the +very topmost part, she would not deign +to look down upon all the silly people in the +valley—the people who just went on working, +and didn’t have the sense to shout with joy +because the sun was shining. She would +reach up her hand, and feel the little fleecy +cloud that was sitting so still and quiet, way +up there. She would squash it between her +fingers to see if it was wet or dry. And if it +was dry, she would wrap it around her, to +keep it warm forever, and would spend the rest +of her days trying to catch, in a rose-colored +bottle, the cold wind that went rushing past.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span></p> +<p>And so the little girl ran and ran.</p> + +<p>The wind whistled at her speed. The dewy +grass kissed her feet, and the cows in the +meadows yawned as she passed.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Then she stumbled. A round smooth rock +had rolled across her path: a granite rock, with +specks that twinkled like bad men’s eyes. It +was an orthodox rock—the sort that rarely +rolled from its ledge. It growled:</p> + +<p>“Look at this astounding young person’s +behavior on a Sunday! The idea! A gentleman +and a preacher should put an end to such +goings-on.”</p> + +<p>And so the smooth stone rolled in her path-way, +and she stumbled and fell over it.</p> + +<p>A discreet silence had settled over the countryside, +just as though all the fields were on +their best behavior. The rows and rows of +conscientiously trained beets and onions drew +themselves up in the pride of their posture. +They too are very orthodox. They look down +upon those of their vegetable brethren who +have allowed themselves to be blown away +from the straight and narrow path while still +in the seed stage. It is fair, in a kingdom of +stones, that these should do penance by eternal +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span>excommunication from the pale. And thus +pondering, in pious disgust, the beets and carrots +were spending their Sunday.</p> + +<p>The truant asparagus, long since reformed +from rigid rows, was glorifying heaven in its +own sweet way. It sprawled over the edge of +its patch, as though to cover as much of the +earth as possible—to be as near to her as possible. +It does her honor, by dressing up in +feathery finery to adorn her. It even catches +the dew-drops, and roguishly uses them as +pearls; for it makes its religion a perpetual +pageant to glorify nature, and it scorns the +priggish severity of the onion elders who have +carefully stored up all their dew, for the cultivation +of orthopedic roots.</p> + +<p>These were the extremes of the vegetable +Sunday behavior, and they are interspersed +with just such in between stages as the meadows +show,—a sort of tired business man-ish +relief from the droning haying machines, and +the hard cobble-stone wall.</p> + +<p>Over the vegetable kingdom the round +stones rule in their smooth sly fashion, appearing +in the furrows to retard the busy harrower +in his task, and censoring the human +children’s play.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span></p> +<p>But past them all the Little Girl ran, laughing +at the wind, brushing off the dirt that +spotted her starched dress, and forgetting all +about her bruises and scratches. On and on +she ran, her eye fixed on the fleecy white cloud, +her heart aching to fondle it, and her legs +tireless in their never-ending race for the stars.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="TO_PLEASE_EIGHT_AND_A_HALF">TO PLEASE EIGHT AND A HALF</h2></div> + + +<p>First of all there was Mildred, who was +eleven, and quite sedate. Then there were the +twins, Eveline and Madeline, who were eight +and a half and eight and a half and ten minutes +old, respectively, and who liked stories.</p> + +<p>“Can you tell ’em?” Madeline inquired +anxiously. She was curled up in my lap, and +when she spoke she wrinkled up her nose in +a funny little way that hid the one freckle on +its tip that was the only means of distinguishing +her from Eveline.</p> + +<p>“I’ll try,” I offered.</p> + +<p>“Make it about goblins, please,” ordered +Madeline.</p> + +<p>“And fairies,” Eveline added.</p> + +<p>“And real people, too,” suggested Mildred +who was, as I said, eleven, and almost beyond +fairies, which was rather a pity.</p> + +<p>“Once upon a time,” I started, and paused. +A grown-up had interrupted us with some +foolish grown-up question.</p> + +<p>“Once upon a time,” again I began.</p> + +<p>“You said that before,” objected Eveline.</p> + +<p>“Yes’m,” accused Madeline.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span></p> +<p>“—Many, many years ago, there was a big +forest, bigger than any you have ever seen.”</p> + +<p>“’Scuse me, Ma’am, I know where there is a +biggest forest.”</p> + +<p>“Well, this was even bigger,” I insisted. “So +big, in fact, that the leaves were as large as—as +the flowers on that chair.” I finished pointing +to the exaggerated tapestry on the furniture.</p> + +<p>“Now at the edge of the woods there was a +little village, where a blacksmith lived, with +his only daughter, Hope.</p> + +<p>“One day he sent Hope out into the forest to +pick berries. As she went into the woods, by +the little path which led from her house, there +hopped out on it a little bunny—like the ones +in the park, you know, excepting that this one +had <b>two</b> tails.”</p> + +<p>(“Why?” asked Madeline.</p> + +<p>“To clean out his house with, of course,” +explained Mildred.)</p> + +<p>“Now, although Hope had walked in the +forest ever since she was a little girl, she had +never, <b>never</b> seen a bunny with two tails. So +she followed this one. Further and further +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span>she went, and darker and darker it grew, but +Hope did not notice this, for she was too busy +watching Mr. Two-tails.</p> + +<p>“Suddenly he disappeared, and left her standing +in front of a great, green-grey stone. It +was very dark, and poor Hope was very much +frightened. I would have been, too. Wouldn’t +you?”</p> + +<p>Three heads bobbed up and down energetically, +and three pairs of eyes opened <b>very</b> +wide.</p> + +<p>“But she was a sensible little girl, and knew +that the good fairies would help her. So she +knocked on the stone. There started a whirring +noise, as of wings.</p> + +<p>“Say the magic word, and tell me your +name,” sang a silvery voice.</p> + +<p>“Hope,” said the little girl.</p> + +<p>At this the stone opened, and she went into +a beautiful little room, all lighted with fireflies +and glow-worms. On the floor sat a fairy, busy +mending a butterfly’s broken wing.</p> + +<p>‘Do you live here all alone?’ asked Hope, +as she drank honey and dew-drops which the +busy ants had brought her.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span></p> +<p>“Yes,” sighed the fairy sadly. “I used to +live with the forest goblins—”</p> + +<p>“But they are bad,” interrupted Hope. +“Father has told me stories about them.”</p> + +<p>“Not bad!” reproved the fairy “but they did +not like me to help the wood-land folks. They +made me come here, and said they would keep +every one from seeing me. Nobody can enter +without the pass-word, Hope. And I cannot +be free until a prince comes to sing to me.”</p> + +<p>“The next morning the blacksmith awoke, +and called Hope to him, but of course she did +not come. He was very much frightened and +called out all the village folk to help look for +her. Then a strange thing happened. The +blacksmith looked at the wall of his hut, and +saw a message appear in letters of gold which +said, ‘Whosoever shall find Hope shall be made +by the fairies a Prince, and shall be given a +beauteous castle.’</p> + +<p>“The villagers started out, and with them a +little apprentice lad searched too. Now, of +course, the goblins kept every one away from +the great green-grey stone, but in spite of all +the goblin’s enchantments the apprentice lad +came to the house of the fairy, because he had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span>followed a little two-tailed bunny. And when +he got there he was so happy he just sang, and +sang, and as he sang his coarse village clothes +fell off him and the royal robes of a Prince appeared +in their place.</p> + +<p>“And so he took Hope back to the village +with him, and the fairy flew out, singing and +happy to be free. At the village there was +great rejoicing, and they feasted at the Prince’s +palace for a month and a day.”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t they get sick?” inquired Mildred.</p> + +<p>“And a few years later they were married.”</p> + +<p>“And lived happily ever after?” asked Eveline, +anxiously.</p> + +<p>“And lived happily ever after!” I assured +them.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_MUSIC_CHARM">THE MUSIC CHARM +<br> +(A Tiny Tot Rhyme)</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">When the great man came to play</div> +<div class="verse indent0">He didn’t chase me far away,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But let me stand beside him so</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That I could watch his fingers go.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I never, never saw him make</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The very tiniest mistake....</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And, say, I saw that player look</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At his <b>ten</b> fingers, <b>and</b> the book</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At once! So I <b>knew</b> there must be</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Some trick that he had hid from me!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And maybe, when he’d gone away</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The spell that brought the tunes would stay!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">So when I felt that nobody</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Was bothering to notice me,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I looked about that piano</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Inside and outside, high and low,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To find that music. Timidly</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I pressed each finger on a key;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Ma said it didn’t sound the same ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">It sounded queer and sounded lame,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But I don’t care, because some day</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I’ll make him charm it so’s to stay!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And then maybe <b>I’ll</b> sit and look</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At <b>my</b> ten fingers and the book!</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_TALE_OF">THE TALE OF +THE FRETFUL CHILD</h2></div> + + +<p>There lived once upon a time, in the Land +of Grown-ups, a very little boy. As soon as he +was old enough to cry, which was when he was +very young indeed, he began to cry for an +adventure. But he always cried for it in baby talk, +which Grown-ups cannot understand because +they have forgotten it; and so nobody +knew what he wanted. They gave him milk, +and they spanked him. They sang to him and +they rocked him, and they even showed him +how the wheels in Daddy’s watch go round. +But they did not give him an adventure, and +so he kept right on crying, until bye and bye +he came to be known as That Fretful Child, +and everyone hated his parents.</p> + +<p>Now there is only one person in all Grown-up +Land who understands baby talk, and that +is the Oldest Woman in the World. People +say that she understands it only because she is +so old that she has learned everything there is +to know and is going back to begin all over +again. And, since she is as wise as she is old, +and equally as gossipy, she soon heard everyone +talking about That Fretful Child.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span></p> +<p>She suspected that the baby wanted something +very badly, and that that something was +neither warm milk, nor a spanking, nor the +wheels in Daddy’s watch. And she decided to +find out what it was that he did want.</p> + +<p>So she put on her grey cobweb scarf, which +makes her invisible, and climbed up the handle +of her carpet-sweeper, for she is a very modern +Old Woman indeed. She grasped the handle +of her carpet-sweeper, right where the shiny +part ends, said a magic word, which I have +forgotten, and Higgelley, piggelley, before you +might say “<b>I spy</b>” three times without winking, +she was driving up to the home of the +Fretful Child with a fearful clatter.</p> + +<p>Now the Fretful Child’s Mother was a regular +sort of a Mother, excepting that on Sunday’s +she always used silk handkerchiefs, embroidered +with storks, and folded in thirds, instead +of the linen ones folded in quarters that +she used every day. When she heard the +noise, and saw the carpet-sweeper drive up to +the door she became very much excited.</p> + +<p>“Look, Timothy,” she called to her husband, +who is also the Baby’s Father, “Look at the +carpet-sweeper I have found outside of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span>door.” In Grown-up Land, you see, carpet +sweepers do not always wander about by themselves.</p> + +<p>Timothy, however was not impressed. He +only said “Un-huh”, and went on reading his +newspaper.</p> + +<p>So the Fretful Child’s Mother took in the +carpet-sweeper, and put it next to the Baby’s +crib, for safe-keeping. Then, because the baby +was crying very hard indeed, she hurried away +to get him some warm milk, and left him alone +to drink it, for she had learned by experience +that he could not cry while he was doing this.</p> + +<p>When she had gone, the Oldest Woman +hopped down from the carpet-sweeper, and +took off her cobweb scarf, which made her visible. +Then she looked at the Fretful Child +over her dark green spectacles, and said:</p> + +<p>“Google de Goo.”</p> + +<p>Now the Baby was so surprised to hear anyone +besides himself speaking his language, that +he stopped swallowing warm milk, right in +the middle of a gulp, and simply stared. But, +although this is generally considered very rude, +the Oldest Woman paid no attention to it whatsoever, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span>and instead went right on to say something +which translated means:</p> + +<p>“What are you crying for, anyway?”</p> + +<p>By that time the Fretful Child had stopped +staring, and had finished his warm milk, and +was able to tell her that he wanted an adventure, +and that he wanted it badly.</p> + +<p>Upon hearing this, the Oldest Woman became +very serious indeed. She shook her head, +and wiped away a tear which had settled on +the rim of her green spectacles and was about +to roll down her nose. Then she said:</p> + +<p>“Doodle de doo,” which, as all babies know, +means “You are very young indeed, but I will +do the best I can for you.”</p> + +<p>She told him that there are very few places +where adventures still grow wild, for they have +all been collected many years ago by a group +of people called “Famous Persons”. However, +she did know of one adventure tree that was +just beginning to bear fruit. It was quite far +away, but all that one needed to get there was +a silk handkerchief embroidered with a stork. +Now this was very fortunate indeed. For you +see, the baby knew that once a week his Mother +used to wipe his tears off with a silk handkerchief, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span>and he remembered that something on it +sometimes used to bite him.</p> + +<p>“It must have been a stork,” exclaimed the +Oldest Woman, and at this she became so excited +that her eyes twinkled behind her green +spectacles.</p> + +<p>In less time than it takes to tell about it, the +baby was flying through the air on his Mother’s +silk handkerchief, with his eyes tightly closed, +and the Oldest Woman was astride a carpet-sweeper. +He could feel the wind blowing +through his hair, and the stars snapping at him +as he went whizzing past. All the time the +Oldest Woman kept saying magic words, and +telling him not to open his eyes whatever he +did, so that it all sounded something like this:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Hoity toity, keep them shut,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Ali pali poo,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Flutter, gutter, down he’ll clut</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sniggle, snaggle yo-u-u-u-u</div> +<div class="verse indent0">O-o-o-o-w</div> +<div class="verse indent0">You-u-u-u-u</div></div> +</div></div> + +<p>And all the voices of the night owls and snapping +stars echoed</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">You-u-u-u-u-u-u-U*U*U*U!</div></div> +</div></div> + +<p>Until the Fretful Child felt very pale indeed.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span></p> +<p>When at last the Oldest Woman told him +that he might look, he found that they had +flown all the way to Nowhereland. He knew +it was Nowhereland, by all the Nothings standing +about. There were tall Nothings, and +short Nothings, and fat Nothings, and thin +Nothings, and they were all kept in order by +Nobodies with grey dresses on. These Nobodies +are very much like the people in Grown-up +Land. Excepting that, as you will notice +when you look at them very closely, their faces +are made up entirely of cheeks.</p> + +<p>The Fretful Child stared about very hard +indeed. Then, because he couldn’t see any adventure +tree, he was just beginning to take a +long breath in order to cry. But he stopped +short, just as his face was beginning to turn +from pink to purple. For, right in the midst +of the Nobodies stood the most beautiful adventure +tree you ever saw. Its pale blue +branches were weighed down to the place +where the ground would have been, if there +had been a ground in Nowhereland. And from +even the lowest branches there hung luscious +adventures that were dark red, and just right +for picking. All about lay others that the wind +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span>had blown down, or that the Nobodies had +picked, tasted, and thrown away. But they +had missed the very best of all. And this was +perfectly natural, when you stop to think that +the Nobodies have no eyes, and their faces are +made up entirely of cheeks.</p> + +<p>But the Fretful Child was not a Nobody. He +had eyes. He saw the red adventures dangling +there, and he squealed and crowed, and did all +the things that fretful children never do. And +then he picked one.</p> + +<p>Now it is strange to tell about, but as soon as +the Fretful Child bit into that adventure, he +stopped being a Fretful Child, and became a +Regular Boy. Even his skin, at that very moment +forgot how to change from pink to +purple, as it used to when he wanted to cry.</p> + +<p>When the Nobodies felt what he was doing, +they became very angry indeed, and shouted +Nonsense at him, and threw Nothings at him. +But these did not hurt him much, and so he +went right on eating his adventure.</p> + +<p>The adventure did not taste at all the way he +thought it would, and it puckered his mouth +all up. So he tried to hold his breath to make +his face change from pink to purple, but it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span>wouldn’t do what he told it to. And then he +knew that the adventure must have done something +to him. He was not sure, but he strongly +suspected that it must have changed him into +a Regular Boy. So he stopped crying, even +before he had let out the tiniest bit of a sound, +and he smiled all over instead. And thereupon +the Nobodies, feeling that some thing just +hadn’t happened, dropped their nothings on +the spot. And a brand new adventure bloomed +on the tree, where the one the Fretful Child +had eaten hung.</p> + +<p>He squealed in glee, and looked around for +the Oldest Woman, but as she was as wise as +she was old, and equally as gossipy, she must +have ridden away on her carpet-sweeper to tell +her friends about it, for she was not to be +found.</p> + +<p>Just as he was wondering where she could +have gone to, he felt a tugging at his right +arm. It was the embroidered stork. Without +a minute’s delay he climbed upon the handkerchief, +stuck out his tongue at the Nobodies, +which shows that he was a Regular Boy, and, +higgelley, piggelley, before you might say “I +spy” three times without winking, he was back +in his own little crib.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span></p> +<p>His Mother was just coming to get the carpet-sweeper, +which she had left beside the crib, +for, you see, in Grown-up Land time passes +much more slowly than in Nowhere land. +There was a great to-do when she found that it +was gone, but just as she was growing very +excited about this, she noticed that the Fretful +Child had stopped crying, and this made her +even more excited (but in a different way) so +that she forgot all about the carpet-sweeper. +She rushed in to tell Timothy, her husband +about it; but he was reading the newspaper, +and only said “Un-huh.”</p> + +<p>Soon all the neighbors came in to find out +why That Fretful Child had stopped crying, +and his Mother proudly told them that she had +given him warm milk.</p> + +<p>Whereupon all the neighbors shook their +heads and opened their mouths very wide, and +went home to feed warm milk to their Fretful +Children, as they have been doing ever since.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BALLADE_FOR_BELIEVERS">BALLADE FOR BELIEVERS +IN FAIRIES</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">All dressed up in our best we ride ...</div> +<div class="verse indent2">From Adam’s Square and Harvard too</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And read the ads there for our guide</div> +<div class="verse indent2">To see what other people do;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Or if a paper we glance through,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At night time, when our curls we comb</div> +<div class="verse indent2">This lonesome thought our souls imbue</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Have you a fairy in your home?”</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Or when the little folks decide</div> +<div class="verse indent2">To play a game of house, or two,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And roles amongst them they divide ...</div> +<div class="verse indent2">John is papa, and mama’s Sue ...</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Alas the parts are far too few</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And those left out in anguish foam</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Till someone brings this thought anew</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Have you a fairy in your home?”</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">A poor stern father has denied</div> +<div class="verse indent2">To sweet sixteen a dress that’s new,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And sweet sixteen has vainly tried</div> +<div class="verse indent2">And valiantly her suit to sue ...</div> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span></p><div class="verse indent2">She sees her older dress must do</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Then finds it in a fashion tome</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Some thoughtful fairy brought to view ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Have you a fairy in your home?”</div></div> +</div></div> + + +<p class="ph3">L’Envoi</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">O, Pollyanna, here’s to you—</div> +<div class="verse indent2">I’ll greet you, if you chance to roam</div> +<div class="verse indent0">My way, and ask when I am blue</div> +<div class="verse indent2">“Have you a fairy in your home?”</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_JUSTIFICATION_AND">THE JUSTIFICATION AND +REVENGE OF GOBBLE-ME-UP +<br> +(A Story for Children with Appetites, +and for Children Who Do Not Eat.)</h2></div> + + +<p>Once upon a time, in the days of long ago, +when ogres and giants were as plentiful as +policemen, and when the ocean was dotted +with desert islands, there lived a Giant whose +name was Gobble-me-up. As you may have +guessed, he lived on one of these islands. All +about him stretched ocean, and ocean, and +more and more waves; but they didn’t bother +him at all. He just lived there alone, and was +very happy.</p> + +<p>He was a great, large, burly giant, who +would have stood over six feet tall in his stocking +feet, if he had worn stockings. He had +round red cheeks, and dancing blue eyes, and +his hair curled itself up into “irrepressible +locks” just like your favorite hero’s. He was +comfortably fat, and when he laughed he +shook all over, just the way the dessert that +we have on Sunday does.</p> + +<p>As I said, he was a very happy giant indeed, +and he used to laugh and shake all over a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span>very great deal. You see, he never realized +that he was all alone on his island, because he +had never known what it would be like to +have someone there to play with him. Every +morning when he had finished his rhubarb, he +used to walk along the seashore, dabbling his +toes in the soapy waves, and singing:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">“Gobble-me-up is my name,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">A Happy Giant am I ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And I always feel just the same ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And I’ll sing this song till I die.”</div></div> +</div></div> + +<p>When he came to this point he would always +whirl about on his left heel three times, and +clap his hands above his head.</p> + +<p>Now at the particular moment when my +story would be beginning if I hadn’t wasted +all this time talking, Gobble-me-up was just +setting out for his morning walk. He was +tossing his head in the breeze ... it was the +first day of Spring, you see ... and he +breathed in the ozone, and enjoyed it, because +he didn’t know that it was ozone. And, according +to his habit, he began to sing:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">“Gobble-me-up is my name....”</div></div> +</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span></p> +<p>when all of a sudden three clams that were +lying on the beach opened their shells very +wide, and laughed, in perfect rhythm:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">“Ha! HA!! HA!!!”</div></div> +</div></div> + +<p>Gobble-me-up looked about in surprise, and +the clams continued to laugh in a way that was +rude, even for clams.</p> + +<p>Then Gobble-me-up became very angry ... +no self-respecting Giant likes to be laughed at. +He shook his curls at them, trying to look very +fierce indeed. At last he sputtered:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">“WHAT do you</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Mean</div> +<div class="verse indent0">By</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Talking to</div> +<div class="verse indent0">ME</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Like <b>that</b>?”</div></div> +</div></div> + +<p>(He was so angry, you see, that he leaped +into free verse, a thing which had always been +against his principles.)</p> + +<p>When the clams had laughed until they +could laugh no more, and had rolled over in +the sand to wipe the perspiration off their +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span>shells, the most imposing clam answered him.</p> + +<p>“Ha! ha!” she said (I am quite sure it was +a “she”), “the idea of a giant who only eats +rhubarb ... he! he! ... the idea of <b>his</b> being +called Gobble-me-up!”</p> + +<p>At this all the other clams went off into +wild gales of laughter, and snapped their shells +to show how very funny they thought it was.</p> + +<p>Gobble-me-up was perplexed. He didn’t +quite know what they meant. But they did +not intend to leave him in any doubt about this. +They explained immediately, interrupting +each other, and acting in a way that was very +rude indeed.</p> + +<p>They said that he ought to be a “very-cannibal-and-wear-a-red-sash-and-whiskers-and-eat-up-little-boys-and-girls” +(they said it +quickly, like that) and that he ought to go +around muttering dreadful things like:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">“Fe, fi, fo, fum,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I smell the blood of an Englishmun,”</div></div> +</div></div> + +<p>instead of reciting his silly little rhymes. +They said that he should flourish a tomahawk, +and dye his hair black, or at least train it to +stand up on end. In fact they abused him horribly, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span>telling him that he was ruining the time-honored +reputation of the race of Giants. Any +Giant, they said, to be worthy of the name, +should endeavor to represent all the Giants on +every occasion. He, they said, was an unsatisfactory +specimen, and therefore deserved to be +squelched most effectively. This they felt to +be their duty, and unpleasant though it was, it +had to be done.</p> + +<p>After this last remark, they sighed sadly, +and retired into their shells.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>From that moment on, Gobble-me-up was a +changed giant. He hardly ever laughed, and +when he sang his little song he put it in a +minor key, which shows how very sad he was. +Every morning he spoiled his rhubarb by +weeping salty tears into it.</p> + +<p>He felt that he really must do <b>something</b>.</p> + +<p>He sat down on a log to think about it. He +turned his toes inward so that they might console +each other. He dug his elbows hard into +his knees, and held his forehead in his hands. +Then he said to himself:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">“The clams win out,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Without a doubt,</div> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span></p><div class="verse indent0">I’ve simply ruined my rep ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I must fix this,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Or else, I wis,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I’ll have to get some pep.”</div></div> +</div></div> + +<p>This last thought seemed to appeal to him a +great deal, even though the rhyme wasn’t very +good.</p> + +<p>But as he pondered it, he had a more awful +thought. How could he act like a blood-thirsty +Giant, and go about killing men, when he was +the only creature that was anything like a man +on the island?</p> + +<p>It was a most disturbing idea, and for three +days it bothered him. He grew paler, and proportionately +thinner. He did not weep into +his rhubarb now, but left it strictly alone.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>And then he found a solution, and worked +it out in a manner truly worthy of a Giant. +This was what he did:</p> + +<p>One night, when the moon was hidden and +the stars were yawning and dropping off to +sleep, one by one, he crept out along the beach. +Without a sound, he crept up behind the three +sleeping clams. Stealthily he reached out his +left hand, took the youngest by its little neck +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span>and squashed it. Noiselessly he stretched out +his right hand, and grasped the second one. +And with a maddened shriek of triumph he +grabbed up the last clam, before it could snap +its shell at him.</p> + +<p>With an exalted countenance, he pranced +up and down the beach, shouting his paean of +victory, so that the stars stopped blinking, and +the moon peered around the corner of a cloud +to listen:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">“Gobble-me-up is my name,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">A Fearsome Giant am I,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I’ve a dreadful awesome fame,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Which nobody can deny...!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Gobble-me-up is my name,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">No Giant is madder than I ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Ha! <b>Ha!!</b> Ha! <b>Ha!!</b></div> +<div class="verse indent0">No Giant is madder than I!”</div></div> +</div></div> + +<p>Whereupon he sat down on his log, and, one +by one he <b>ate</b> the clams.</p> + +<p>It didn’t matter at all that he had indigestion +the next day. He knew that he really was +an honest-to-goodness Giant, and the thought +made him laugh and shake all over, just as he +used to do in the good old days, before the +clams had tried to disillusion him.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_PIPER">THE PIPER</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">The valley is clad in a misty white fog,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Where the Sun God dares not intrude,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The hoots of the night owls have dulled and have died,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And the whimpering night winds brood.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Over the purple-topped rims of the earth,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Riding a proud little breeze,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Are tinkling pipings that whisper that Pan,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Away from the haunts of humdrum man,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Has led forth the day from the seas....</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Dancing and prancing o’er grove and o’er hill,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Rollicking, frolicking, gay,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Glad in the fragrance, and glad in the dawn,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And proud to be leading the day.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">The grey gnomes that live in the fog hear his pipes,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And they hide in their thick weeping veils,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And they dwindle and melt at the sound of his mirth,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">When his cloven hoofs dance in the dales.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Now the King of the Day has awakened at last,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And has climbed to his throne in the sky,</div> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span></p><div class="verse indent0">And the world is astir in its workaday tasks ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But Pan has gone merrily by.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Now a child who lives in the village lane</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Hears the reed notes and tries to pursue;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Fast he leaps over rocks on the heath on his way ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">All of a sudden the piping is near ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Now it’s lost to him ... again, it is here ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">For sudden Pan comes ... e’er you grasp for his cheer,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sudden he’s sung, and away.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Away from the heart of everyday folk</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To the hills where the west wind blows;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Laughing and dancing and chasing the bees ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">(How dreary for them just to hum in their hives!)</div> +<div class="verse indent0">When the brown brook is gurgling, and sings as it flows,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And the blood-red poppy smiles as it blows ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Over the hills, and away ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Smiles that Pan comes ... e’er you see him, he goes ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sudden he’s sung, and away.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="AN_INTERVIEW_WITH">AN INTERVIEW WITH +RICHARD THE LION-HEARTED</h2></div> + + +<p>“I don’t like women,” said Richard of Brookline, +and to prove it he sucked more violently +upon a lavender lollipop.</p> + +<p>Richard spoke with all the authority of one +who has spent seven years living across the +street from five fair ladies. One might mention +that these seven years were his first spent +anywhere, and that these fair but fearsome +feminists ranged from six to sixteen. The +locale was Brookline, and the time romantic +summer—at this point my story begins.</p> + +<p>Not long ago Richard wandered down the +broad highway sucking upon his solitary lollipop, +and wearing on his eyebrows the air of a +world-weary capitalist. He did not offer to +share his bounty with the ladies across the +way, but did not object to having them watch +him from their lollipopless porch. It was this +haughty attitude that first made the Sleuth +suspect him to be a woman hater.</p> + +<p>And so the Sleuth set off upon his trail immediately, +but Richard, like many a courtly +gentleman, proved to be as diffident as he was +bold.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span></p> +<p>“Why don’t you like women?” he was asked. +And he replied:</p> + +<p>“Because.”</p> + +<p>“Because what?” the Sleuth persisted; +whereupon Richard raised his eyebrows with +an air of finality.</p> + +<p>“Because I don’t,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you like your Mama?” he was asked, +and regarded the questioner scornfully.</p> + +<p>“She isn’t a girl,” quoth he.</p> + +<p>“But she probably was once!” The Sleuth +hazarded a guess.</p> + +<p>Alas, at this point Richard was called to bed. +But the next day the argument was continued. +It was after a nerve-racking game of puss-in-the-corner, +when the assembled court had been +astonished at the lion-hearted Richard’s chivalry. +Twice had he surrendered his hard-earned +corner to a fluffy little four-year-old +blond. The Sleuth joshed him as man to man. +But Richard smiled about it, and man-like +waived present contingencies to speak glittering +generalities.</p> + +<p>“Girls,” he said, “are like fish.” But he omitted +further details; and as he mused on the +matter, his thoughts fell into metaphors. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span>“Like fish,” he repeated solemnly. And then +he spied a crop of bobbed and almost masculine +hair that was bouncing outside the hedge +fence. “Or like hares. Some say that they are +chickens, but I think that they are more like +trees.”</p> + +<p>“Because they wear fine feathers,” someone +contributed.</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” he agreed.</p> + +<p>“But you don’t think they’re all shady, do +you?” the Sleuth hastened to interpose.</p> + +<p>“Most are,” he sighed.</p> + +<p>And at this point he rose, to show that the +interview was at an end, and, swinging his tin +drum about his neck, he solemnly paraded +down the block to that very masculine tune +“Johnny get your Gun.”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="DAUGHTER-GOOSE_RHYMES">DAUGHTER-GOOSE RHYMES</h2></div> + + +<p class="ph3">I</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Little Jack Horner</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sat in a corner</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Busily writing checks ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">His partners grew lazy,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">His balance hazy,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">His creditors all became wrecks!</div></div> +</div></div> + + +<p class="ph3">II</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Flitter, flitter, little dime,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">You can stay here a long time.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">If I leave you as I oughter</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Pretty soon you’ll be a quarter!</div></div> +</div></div> + + +<p class="ph3">III</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Little Miss Millions</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Longed to have billions,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And dreamed about trillions beside;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But while she was sighing,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Not working, just crying ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Her bank account dwindled and died!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Little Miss Penny</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Didn’t have any<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span></div> +<div class="verse indent0">Money at all, but she tried;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And so she kept saving,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And ardently slaving ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And she owned a house when she died!</div></div> +</div></div> + + +<p class="ph3">IV</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Ride in a taxi,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">The Biltmore for lunch ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Eat ... for the music</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Will play while you munch.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Eat all you want to,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">While large grows your dome ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">For after you’ve eaten</div> +<div class="verse indent2">You’ll have to walk home!</div></div> +</div></div> + + +<p class="ph3">V</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Old Mr. Croesus</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Was worried to pieces</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To pay for the monthly rent ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">For what with investments,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And bonds and assessments,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">He found all his money had went!</div></div> +</div></div> + + +<p class="ph3">VI</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Ike and Mike</div> +<div class="verse indent0">(They look alike)<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span></div> +<div class="verse indent0">Began to work together ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But Ike was sly,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">While Mike ran dry ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">So they struck stormy weather!</div></div> +</div></div> + + +<p class="ph3">VII</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Dickory, dickory, dock,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The ticker reported the stock,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Each bull a bear,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Brokers, beware</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Dickory, dickory, dock!</div></div> +</div></div> + + +<p class="ph3">VIII</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">“Hi diddle, diddle ...”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Hoorah, ich ga bibble”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The pawn-brokers chortle in glee ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The bankers all giggle to see the fun,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And int’rest mounts high as can be!</div></div> +</div></div> + + +<p class="ph3">IX</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Sing a song of sixpence ...</div> +<div class="verse indent2">A suitcase full of rye ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But that is meant for millionaires ...</div> +<div class="verse indent2">The rest of us go dry!</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="BEAUTY_AND_THE_BEACH">BEAUTY AND THE BEACH</h2></div> + + +<p>Once upon a time before Caesar had conquered +Britain, and therefore in the very early +days indeed, there dwelt in southern England +a princess named Talc. Her life was pampered +and happy, just like the lives of all the +princesses who lived a long time ago. Each +day she sat by the edge of a pool of still green +water, and allowed her handmaidens to comb +her tresses (it was in the days, you see, when +ladies wore tresses where most modern folk +wear hair).</p> + +<p>“I am very beautiful,” she remarked casually, +glancing at herself in the pool, “but ...”</p> + +<p>“Yes, indeed, Madam,” chorused the handmaidens, +who did not realize that she was +about to say more.</p> + +<p>“Silence, wretches,” snapped the princess, +squirting water at them with a lily white hand, +and thereby mussing up her image in the pool. +Then she continued in a low tragic tone: “I +have a blemish, I tell you. My nose shines. +Poets have written of brilliant eyes and gleaming +teeth, but not one has mentioned a glittering +nose. Therefore I know that the perfect +nose does not shine. My beauty is ruined. Ah +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span>woe is me, ah woe is me!” An she bowed her +head forward, sobbing so violently that she +pulled the pigtails out of her handmaidens’ +grasp.</p> + +<p>“No more,” she roared at them, as they +started to reclaim the lost tresses. And then +she sobbed as though her heart would break, +“Oh my blemish, oh my nose, oh my nose, oh +my blemish. Throw away your combs. I am +going to tell the sea of my woe. I am going to +walk along the cliffs. You may follow at a +distance.”</p> + +<p>She sprang to her feet, and hurried to the +cliffs. She looked at the sea roaring on the +rocks below.</p> + +<p>“Oh sea,” she moaned in her grief, “what +would you do if you had a nose and it was +shiny?”</p> + +<p>As she was thus bewailing she stumbled and +fell upon the smooth, soft, chalky cliffs. When +she lifted herself up she found that her hands +were covered with a white dust.</p> + +<p>“Arabella!” she called to her handmaiden, +“bring me a bowl of water.”</p> + +<p>Talc looked into the glassy surface of the +water. Lo and behold her nose no longer +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span>shone, but was white with a thick opaque +whiteness!</p> + +<p>“My beauty!” she exulted, “my beauty has +returned! Arabella, you may get the comb +and continue in the making of my royal pigtails. +Neither my nose nor my chin shines. +I am truly beautiful.” And she rejoiced until +the tears flowed down her face, making furrows +in their whiteness.</p> + +<p>And thereafter each morning the princess +and her handmaidens could be seen prostrate +upon the cliff, solemnly rubbing their noses in +its smooth dust.</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="SENSATIONS_OF_SWINBURNING">SENSATIONS OF SWINBURNING</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">I fly through the air ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Ah where, tell me where</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Shall I land, when I drop?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Shall I splash? Shall I flop?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">When I plunge in the sea ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Will the waves cover me?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Pause I here on the brink ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Will I float? Will I sink</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Through the green, glassy waves ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Through the myriad of deep...?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">When I die, shall I sleep ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In the murm’ring sea caves?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Pray, is life fair enough...?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Shall I plunge from the bluff</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Take the ultimate jump?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And land there ...</div> +<div class="verse indent8">... with a thump?</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="DAY_DREAMS">DAY DREAMS</h2></div> + + +<p>“We had a table cloth, as white as the paint +on the wall beside my kitchen stove, when +it was new, five years ago. Ice tinkled in the +glasses, but I saw every glass cloud up to hide +the ice, because it costs an awful lot these days: +They brought the turkey in,—it must have +weighed twelve pounds. Its brown breast was +so fat it seemed about to burst. It sizzled. +Um. Then came the cranberry, all red and +clear and quivery from its mold. A pianola +played all the time, and we danced on the swell +white tiles up to the cashier’s desk.</p> + +<p>“I had on a picture hat, black velvet, trimmed +with fur and cloth of gold, just like a movie star—that’s +how I felt. Say, ain’t it queer, the +things you dream about?”</p> + +<p>A half a loaf of bread lay awry on a crumby +and rumpled and mended table cloth where +the breakfast dishes were stacked in crooked +piles. The room was dark ... an oil stove in +the corner made the hot air heavier. On the +tubs, wrapped in towels, a tiny baby lay. The +mother was speaking: and trying to wipe the +wisps of hair out of her heavy eyes. She said: +“Say, ain’t it queer the things you dream +about?”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="RAIN_IN_THE_CITY_AT_NIGHT">RAIN IN THE CITY AT NIGHT</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">The streets are black.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">They shine.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And every light,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">From lamp-post and from store,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Makes a golden path</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Across the street.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Drops of rain</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Spatter,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And trickle down</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The glowing window panes.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Red and yellow,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With silver frosting.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That’s all that I can see</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In the windows.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHRISTMAS">CHRISTMAS</h2></div> + + +<p>Christmas doesn’t come on the twenty-fifth +of December. It begins with the first cold, +snappy day, when ladies, fur-coated, and with +unaccustomed red noses patter down Broadway. +Tall fragrant pine trees, their branches +roped in, are piled on the curbs. There are +little stacks of very, very green stands, leaning +against a box of rosy cheeked apples. Delivery +boys bustle about, much more energetically +than ever before. In the windows cauliflowers +and half frozen beets cuddle in a bed +of red crepe paper in an attempt to keep warm +and cheerful. Next door the fish-man has +garnished his wares with holly and eked a +“Merry Christmas” on the frosty window +pane. On the corner the Salvation Army girl +stamps to keep warm and tinkles her little +bell.</p> + +<p>And it’s not even December twenty-fourth!</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_ROMANTIC_ADVENTURE_INTO">A ROMANTIC ADVENTURE INTO +RELIGION</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Once upon a time there</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Was a little</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Girl.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And she never read the</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Bible, and when her fond parents</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Decided that she ought to be</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Religiously educated, she</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Rebelled, and on Sundays developed</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Colds—and so forth.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">When anyone mentioned</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Saul or</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Rachel or</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Anything, she felt</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Uncomfortable</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And blushed</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And giggled</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And tried to</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Change the subject, which</div> +<div class="verse indent0">She couldn’t always do.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">And everyone accused her of not</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Having religion”</div> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span></p><div class="verse indent0">Until she fully</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Believed it.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Bye and bye</div> +<div class="verse indent0">When she grew older she</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Began to wonder</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">What this <b>religion</b></div> +<div class="verse indent0">That everybody thought so much about—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That preachers preached about—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That revivalists ranted about—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Is.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">And when she asked</div> +<div class="verse indent0">People</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Some carefully stroked their beards</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And thoughtfully cleaned their spectacles</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And said:—“It is</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The divine life in the human soul” whatever</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That is.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And some</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sat up straight</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And promptly answered</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“The natural gratitude to God for creating us which makes us want to obey his commands, in return,” which</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Was clearer, but sounded too much like a</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Bargain.</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span></p> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">And she asked some who had been</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Brought up on</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Catechisms and</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Things.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And they</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Looked shocked at the</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Question.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Perhaps because they</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Didn’t know.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">And there were many</div> +<div class="verse indent0">More answers</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The girl thought</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That, as there</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Were so many and</div> +<div class="verse indent0">So many people had</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Bothered about it,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">It must be pretty</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Important and</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Useful.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">And so she looked</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Up in card indices and</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Read many</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Deep books<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span></div> +<div class="verse indent0">And had many</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Deep discussions</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And things.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Finally she decided</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Religion is a very</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Personal thing,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And so</div> +<div class="verse indent0">There couldn’t be a</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Single definition for</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Everyone.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">But as for herself, she</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Considered it</div> +<div class="verse indent0">One’s idea of perfection,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The attempt to live up to this idea as an ideal,</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">And</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">One’s attitude toward the world in trying to do this.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">And as for the ways of “getting religion”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">She could not believe</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That this should be</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Thrust upon a poor defenseless<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span></div> +<div class="verse indent0">Babe, or that a mean advantage should be</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Taken of his</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Youth</div> +<div class="verse indent0">By his parents, in biasing his</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Later saner judgment by</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Prejudicing him in favor of certain</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Opinions that They</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Happened to have.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">She did not mean</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That one should not read the</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Bible, or obey general morals or</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Know who Rachel was or</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Be as uneducated, as</div> +<div class="verse indent0">She. She meant that one should be</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Left to oneself,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">When it comes to thinking out</div> +<div class="verse indent0">What his Motive in life,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Conception of perfection, and</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Explanation of the big whys of</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Life, and</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Things</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Like that</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Are.</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span></p> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">For one must get an</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Understanding of such</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Things</div> +<div class="verse indent0">(If one is to have a <b>real</b> understanding of them)</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Either through</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Much theory,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Or better,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">By the experience which only</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Living gives—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">If you get what I mean.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">But,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Thought the girl,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">What is the use of</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Worrying</div> +<div class="verse indent0">About things like that</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Anyhow?</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">And then she</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Realized how</div> +<div class="verse indent0">People always turn toward</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Religion</div> +<div class="verse indent0">When they are in</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Trouble; as the</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Religious revival in</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Europe now<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span></div> +<div class="verse indent0">Shows.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And she realized the</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Comfort that they</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Get</div> +<div class="verse indent0">From it.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And after all</div> +<div class="verse indent0">It is only natural that when</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Material things</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And means toward the real end</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Go wrong,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And one feels blue,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That one should try to</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Look ahead</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And beyond</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At the <b>real</b> goal,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And get</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Cheered up,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">By the confirmation that there <b>is</b> a goal.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And that is one use of</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Religion.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">And besides</div> +<div class="verse indent0">People</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Are apt to be too</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Materialistic, nowadays.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And the very presence of ideals,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Or recognition of their presence,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span></div> +<div class="verse indent0">Will lead one</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Beyond</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Such narrowness</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Such binding materialism, and so</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Will lead to</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Higher ideals—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Hence</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Higher strivings—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Hence</div> +<div class="verse indent0">A better world—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Which is</div> +<div class="verse indent0">An asset in itself,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">If you get what I</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Mean.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">And this is the</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Real</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Use of religion.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">And with this off her mind she felt better.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="SUNDAY">SUNDAY</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">A-top the palisades that touch the sky</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Where friendly elms flirt with each passing cloud,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">There let me lie—with Heaven for my shroud,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With Nature live, and close to Nature die.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">I, too, would flirt with clouds that pass me by,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Holding my head aloft, my spirit proud,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Only by Nature’s wrath shall I be cowed,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Only by hand of Providence I die.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">For Art we live, since Art is Nature’s toy,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Fashioned each man in mold almost the same ...</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Religion, Nation, Race ... are things of name.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Cast these aside—God’s playthings are for joy.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Amongst the waves that vainly slap the shore,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Please God, help me to carry on some more.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="NEW_YEARS_DAY">NEW YEAR’S DAY</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">An evening dress in a window ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sheer,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Crimson;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">An ostrich fan beside it ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Soft</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Willowy.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Outside the hard cold glass,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">A woman.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Pale cheeked,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Red nosed,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Clutches a furless muff</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And pulls her frayed coat collar</div> +<div class="verse indent0">About her scrawny neck.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Gentleman in a high hat,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Tan gloves,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Yellow cane,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Fur coat.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Buys spring flowers</div> +<div class="verse indent0">From a dirty-faced Greek.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Confetti in long yellow streamers,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Lying on the grey curbstone.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Shivering children</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Rolling it up.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="SILENCE">SILENCE</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">You think the house is silent when you’re out?</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">The ticking clock</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Obtrudes its measured beat,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Slower than before.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The windows knock.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">’Way down the hall I hear a creaking door.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">A tenseness in the air ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Someone behind me.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Frantically I try to think ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Of other things ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Of anything ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“This is mere nonsense ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Nonsense,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Nonsense ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The room <b>is</b> empty!”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Hush ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">What was that noise out in the hall?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That brushing sound...?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That creaking...?</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Oh, how can you think</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The house is silent when I’m here alone?</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BLUFFING">BLUFFING</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">So that was Russian Art—A blotch of red</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And yellow flames, and towers childishly</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Drawn in thick lines, and curved as though the walls</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Were falling in. Scores and scores of these</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Were crowded in a narrow frame, thick piled</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That left us stunned, amazed—we could not guess</div> +<div class="verse indent0">From the queer Russian signs and mumbled words</div> +<div class="verse indent0">What we were meant to think the show was for.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">But going out, we coughed importantly</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And then we said “Here’s a new tone in Art.”</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">While inwardly we wondered what <b>that</b> meant.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_DELICATESSEN_SHOP">THE DELICATESSEN SHOP</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">You must have noticed, on a Sunday night,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The line of husbands, forming on the right, ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">A bent old fogey, and a spatted fop</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Are rubbing shoulders in the crowded shop</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Where lurid signs proclaim a pale green tea</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Or shriek in praise of chicken fricassee.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Furtively they take their places in line</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And meditate the where-withall to dine ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Then whisper it quite deprecatingly,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And steal away as humble as can be!</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="LISTENING_IN">LISTENING IN. +<br> +(Recess in a College Corridor)</h2></div> + + +<p>Footsteps paced down the hall—slow, meditative +footsteps, with long intervals between +them. Then there was a swish of skirts, and +little pattering taps on the hard marble. Then +both footsteps stopped, and I heard a high +treble tittering, and a deep long-drawn out, +but kindly roar. There was a clatter as though +books had fallen on the floor—another titter, +and rather a bored basso sigh. A bell rang. +The pattering and swishing recommenced and +faded out of earshot. The steady, determined +strides drew nearer and nearer—and by that +time the second bell had rung—and the door +was slowly opened.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="MT_RIGA_ROAD">MT. RIGA ROAD</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">If I could draw—</div> +<div class="verse indent18">The country lies</div> +<div class="verse indent0">A beacon to my pointed pen,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Enticing me to sketch again,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Or paint the colored twilight skies.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">If I could play—</div> +<div class="verse indent22">I’d harmonize</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The babbling brooks in mossy glen</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Or sing the whispered words of men</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Or wordless songs in misty eyes.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">I wish that God had given to me</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Expression that real artists show ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The power to understand and see,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Uplifted by the will to know.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Instead, I write my paltry stint,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Which usually isn’t fit to print.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="RAIN">RAIN</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Here’s the pool, close to the lake</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Where the humming rainbow flies</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Seek their prey with myriad eyes,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Where the maple, touched with red,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Bends across the dusty pool,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Bathing in its welcome cool,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sunspots break the veil of leaves</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Like diluted drops of gold,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Cloud the pool with dust-like mold.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Now the sunspots fade away.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Buzzing flies hum louder still,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Tense the air hangs damp and chill,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And the maple’s glittering leaves</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Turn their silver-frosted backs</div> +<div class="verse indent2">To the wind. A pine-tree cracks.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">On its breast the first rain falls.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Drops like pebbles sharply pelt,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Widen to a ring, and melt.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="GROWING_PAINS">GROWING PAINS</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">When I was a rosy, wide-eyed child</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And the world was new to me</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I tried to explore it with searching eyes</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That knew no secrecy.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And I came one day, in my wanderings,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">On a curtain of green and gold</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With the deepest colors reflected in</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Each mysterious fold.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And I tried to break through it, and tried to go ’round</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To pluck at the colors that shone,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But as I reached toward it, it vanished away.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And I cried in the forest, alone.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Seven years passed, e’er I saw it again,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">All proud in my new-found teens ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But I passed by the gate with a haughty glance,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And I scoffed at its beckoning greens.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Seven years more, and I find it again,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In my own private fairy wood.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Its shimmering colors, and sun-flecked hues</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Call me, as naught else could.</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span></p> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">The gates are translucent. There, tinted with rose,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Is the sapphire blue of a cloudless day ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And I know there are reaped the harvests of love,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And I know there the children of happiness play.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">But I know that for me the gate is shut ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And I feel that I trespass on hallowed ground,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">So I fix my eyes on the stones below,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And I follow the lone path, homeward bound.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="ADOLESCENCE">ADOLESCENCE</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Childlike still, we gaze at fleeting fairy thoughts,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Childlike still, we cast pale shadows in the air—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Civilized imaginations—weakling sparks</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That we’ve folded fast in words—and buried there.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Look: A school of doves on silver-frosted wings</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Hold the sunshine for a moment as they fly,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Toss a vagrant shaft of sunbeams in the air</div> +<div class="verse indent0">As they float across a shining turquoise sky.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">For a moment there’s the glitter of their wings ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just a moment ... then the sunbeam melts away</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And the happy brightness of the turquoise sky</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Has faded, like their silver wings, to grey.</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="TO-">TO—</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Glorious love, if the passion were thine,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To thee I would open my heart and myself;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Yours is the spirit to whom I’d resign,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Yours are the arms I would rest in, in sleep.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Yours is the face I would look to for help,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Yours are the hopes that would buoy me, until</div> +<div class="verse indent0">After our labors had won, or had failed,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Yours are the thoughts that would guide me on still.</div></div> +</div></div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak" id="FRAGMENT">FRAGMENT</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Glorious Virgin, thine the light ...</div> +<div class="verse indent2">The spark-fire of maternal love ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Of thine own self, hast thou made</div> +<div class="verse indent2">A Living God, thy Monument.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="TO_MARIE">TO MARIE</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Such a dainty little miss</div> +<div class="verse indent4">Is Marie,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Whom I love to pet and kiss ...</div> +<div class="verse indent4">Sweet Marie!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Auburn hair in sunny wave,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Freckled face, now sad, now grave ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Would you teach me to behave ...</div> +<div class="verse indent4">Dear Marie?</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">You’ve culled learning from deep books</div> +<div class="verse indent4">Fair Marie,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">A Phi Beta ... and such looks!</div> +<div class="verse indent4">Oh Marie!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That you set my heart a-flutter,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Not the wise words that you utter ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">It’s your charm that makes me stutter ...</div> +<div class="verse indent4">My Marie!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">But though lyrics I indite you,</div> +<div class="verse indent4">Fair Marie,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Ardent love letters I write you,</div> +<div class="verse indent4">Still Marie,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">You prefer to let me pine, dear,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Lonely hours have been mine, dear.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh your art is superfine, dear,</div> +<div class="verse indent4">Dear Marie!</div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span></p> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">But I never give up hope,</div> +<div class="verse indent4">Of Marie,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Liberally I hand soft soap</div> +<div class="verse indent4">To Marie ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">For I know when I grow older,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And my beaux affairs grow bolder ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">By her tactics, I’ll be colder</div> +<div class="verse indent4">Than Marie!</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="FREUDIANISMS">FREUDIANISMS</h2></div> + + +<p>Then the fish all turn into girls, and the +shimmery tale of the goldfish-in-chief changes +into dance slippers. Soon her voice begins to +call to you. It grows louder and louder. At +last you realized that she is saying—</p> + +<p>“Eight o’clock—time to get up!”</p> + +<p>You heave a sleepy sigh and look at the +clock. It says “eight o’clock” but it is probably +fast. You turn over and try to remember +that dream about goldfish. Or was it +girls? Girls or goldfish? Goldfish or girls? +They both begin with “g”. Queer, “g.” Stands +for “goloshes” and “grapes” and “gloves” +and—</p> + +<p>“Ten minutes past eight.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” you drone dutifully. (But you +know it isn’t all right).</p> + +<p>You turn on your back and stare at the ceiling. +There is no use in getting up yet. You +would spend so much time just dressing and +undressing. Think of the hours people spend +in clothing themselves. If all those minutes +were laid end to end they would probably +reach from their elbows to—</p> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span></p> +<p>And then the door bell rings, and someone +says something about mail.</p> + +<p>Mail!</p> + +<p>That’s different.</p> + +<p>In a minute you are up and rushing into the +hall-way.</p> + +<p>“Mail!”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_OLD_MAN_SPEAKS">THE OLD MAN SPEAKS</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">I dare not come to you with virile phrase</div> +<div class="verse indent4">To tell you to give heed to what I say:</div> +<div class="verse indent4">To live your life in age-instructed way,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To light your dawn with sunset’s fading rays.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">I dare not wish to live again my days.</div> +<div class="verse indent4">I, too, was careless when birds sang in May,</div> +<div class="verse indent4">I loved to wander on the primrose way,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Untaught, I crashed through life’s conflicting maze.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Reverance, sanctity, and holy awe,</div> +<div class="verse indent4">Your body’s kingdom, and your soul the king.</div> +<div class="verse indent4">These are the messages of God I bring,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To keep your holiness without a flaw.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent4">God gave to you the priceless gift of youth,</div> +<div class="verse indent4">And I, unheeded, offer you mere truth.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BALLADE_FOR_MORALISTS">BALLADE FOR MORALISTS</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Sing me a lilting, laughing song,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Some spritely, springtime roundelay,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That’s not too burdensome or long ...</div> +<div class="verse indent2">That hasn’t got too much to say.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">O sing of goblin, elf or fay,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And deck your verse with imagery</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Just this remember: Make it gay ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">O poet, do not preach to me!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Weave me weird tales of old Hong Kong,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Of China, or of far Cathay,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With pig-tailed heroes, called Hoo Chong</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Who struggle in a tyrant’s sway.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Be sure the setting of your lay</div> +<div class="verse indent0">(If it should end unpleasantly)</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Be very, very far away ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">O poet, do not preach to me!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">If to some antique, classic wrong</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Poetic tribute you would pay ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Resound some martyr’s funeral gong ...</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Awake the tears of yesterday ...<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span></div> +<div class="verse indent2">I am not one to bid you nay,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But this I beg you earnestly</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Don’t tack a moral to your lay ...</div> +<div class="verse indent0">O poet, do not preach to me!</div></div> +</div></div> + + +<p class="ph3">L’envoi</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">I only hope some poet may</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Read this, and act accordingly,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Not tear into bits, and say:</div> +<div class="verse indent2">“O poet, do not preach to me!”</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="HEAVEN_AT_LAST">HEAVEN, AT LAST</h2></div> + + +<p>I staggered up the last step of the golden +stairs and stood puffing and gasping. St. +Peter came over to me and flapped his wings +in my face. I noticed that the wings were all +lettered—A.B.C.D.—I didn’t look further.</p> + +<p>“Your admittance ticket,” he growled, and +gloatingly fingered his keys. The largest was +square and shiny—a Phi Beta Kappa Key.</p> + +<p>I pulled a crumpled sheet of 8-¹⁄₂×11 paper +from my pocket. St. Peter took it, slowly +looked at it upside down, then sideways, then +right side up.</p> + +<p>“Un-huh,” said St. Peter at last, with celestial +vagueness, “Un-huh,” he repeated wisely.</p> + +<p>“May I ...” I whispered.</p> + +<p>St. Peter turned around slowly, showing me +a great expanse of wing.</p> + +<p>“Close your eyes,” he said, “and pull out a +feather, and while you are about it, take one +for each of your little friends.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t see which one to choose, if I close +my eyes,” I objected most knowingly.</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t make any difference which one +you choose,” said St. Peter, “I only give them +out as souvenirs. A feather doesn’t really +help you to fly. It just gives you confidence. +The rest is up to you.”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_FUTURE">THE FUTURE</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Far in the depths of the dark green sea</div> +<div class="verse indent0">A forest of scrawny weeds</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Imprisons a giant and holds him fast,</div> +<div class="verse indent4">Twine themselves round his knotted hand</div> +<div class="verse indent4">And chain him down to their sunless land</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Where the waves rush raging past.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">His face is hard with deep’ning lines,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And his eyes are glazed with slime,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Yet, deep in his heart there grows a hope</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That he will be freed by time.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">He is the God of Things to Be,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Chained to the floor of the thoughtless sea.</div></div> +</div></div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_note">Transcriber’s note</h2> +<div class="tnote"> + +<p>Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice. Inconsistencies in hyphenation +have been standardized where appropriate.</p> + + + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_9">9</a>: “rogueishly uses them”</td> +<td class="tdl">“roguishly uses them”</td> +</tr> +</table> + + +</div> +</div> + + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75356 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75356-h/images/cover.jpg b/75356-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cbc8a37 --- /dev/null +++ b/75356-h/images/cover.jpg |
