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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/76651-0.txt b/76651-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..20087f2 --- /dev/null +++ b/76651-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2356 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76651 *** + + + + + +[Illustration: _Samuel R Brown_] + + + + + Happy Days + +[Illustration: + + Carolings of Colorado, Etc. + + By + + Sam Brown + + Author of + “May-Day Dreams,” + etc. +] + + DENVER, COLORADO + THE REED PUBLISHING COMPANY + Nineteen Hundred and Four + + + + + Copyright, 1904 + By SAMUEL R. BROWN + + + PRESS OF + The Reed Publishing Company + DENVER + + + + + Dedicated + + WITH KINDEST REGARDS, TO + OUR GENTLE, SAD-FACED + TOURIST SUMMER-GUEST + + + + +_PUBLISHERS’ ANNOUNCEMENT_ + + +_As in subsequent pages of this little work its author has had so much +to say regarding himself and the land of his nativity, we deem it but +proper that he and the reader should be made more fully acquainted here +at the outset. Permit, therefore, this brief biographical sketch. Born +in the sunny valley of the South Platte, near the present site of the +Queen City of the Plains (Denver), the author is of course a native of +the Centennial State (Colorado)._ + +_In the days of his boyhood the wooly bison and the prong-horned +antelope still ranged in countless droves upon the Great Plains, and +the antlered elk and the mule deer, among the airy table-lands and in +the more-sequestered, grassy forest-glades of the Rocky Mountains, were +most plentiful indeed. The little red Indian papooses were his earliest +childhood playmates, and the “big braves,” Cheyenne Charley, the +Arapahoe chief, Black Kettle, and the fat old Ute, Colorow, are still +well remembered by him. The long lines of freight and emigrant wagons; +the “Overland stage coaches,” the ox and mule teams, the various motley +crowds of old-time denizens of those then “first days” of stir and +change, of sanguine strife and hardy enterprise, were all familiar +objects of his youthful vision._ + +_Being reared thus, amidst wild and savage life, and born a native of a +then savage wild-land, his poetic efforts of these later happier days +will no doubt prove of especial interest to the people of the middle +Great West and the Rocky Mountain region generally._ + + THE PUBLISHERS. + + + + +Contents + + + Portrait and Autograph of the Author Frontispiece + + Publishers’ Announcement 4 + + Prefatory 9 + + + _POEMS_ + + A Happy Loiterer 27 + + Angling in the Platte 28 + + Autumnal Sports 33 + + At My Little Cabin Home 42 + + At Littleton--“In the Good Old Summer Time” 58 + + At Englewood on an Afternoon in May 59 + + At Manitou 69 + + At Denver 70 + + A Felicitous Medical Prescription 75 + + A Requiem 86 + + Be Joyous, Be Gentle, Worthy, Kind 52 + + Beautiful Colorado 57 + + Colorado Skies 15 + + Down Among the Grasses 18 + + Differences of Opinion 82 + + Felicitous Retroflections 67 + + Greetings to Gladness 13 + + In the Wild Wild-Woods To-day 20 + + I’ll Sing Some Songs for Fame To-night 21 + + Introverse Retrospection 64 + + In the Forest 83 + + King Mammon 45 + + Live Merrily 14 + + “Lo Que Es El Mundi” 46 + + Little Love A-Fishing Went 68 + + Maid of Denver, Are You Camping? 22 + + Maid of Denver, Take My Arm 23 + + My Colorado 56 + + My Motor-Cycle Girl and I 79 + + My Summer Girl and Me 84 + + New Glad Voices 91 + + Of Paradise, Etc. 73 + + On Immortality 74 + + Poet, May I Pail Your Cow? 24 + + Pot-Hunting Beside the Platte 35 + + Recuperating in Nature’s Sanitarium 31 + + Regret 72 + + Seeking Our Two Little Brown Boys 60 + + Sundry Sweets 65 + + Supplementary 89 + + To Ye Cheerless Hermit 30 + + The Antelope Hunt 37 + + To Walter Whitman 44 + + To Ye Worthy Sailor Man 50 + + Tears 61 + + To Our Little Joy-Prince--Cherub Delight 62 + + To Our Lady of Woe 71 + + To Those Dark Eyes that Haunt Me Still 77 + + Wild-Woodland Ramblings 17 + + Was Man Made to Mourn? 25 + + _PROSE SKETCHES_ + + Farewell!--I Am Still Camping 87 + + May-Day Beside the Platte 92 + + My Native Lakes 95 + + Those Are the Rocky Mountains 98 + + + + +_PREFATORY_ + + +My dear unexacting, much-forgiving reader--lover of rural-songs and +of rural singers: Now, since having spent many happy days in the +health-gaining pursuit after the fleet-winged goddess Pleasure, and +in camping on the trail of the scarcely less inconstant muse, among +Colorado’s grassy, grove-filled valleys, arid plains, and lofty, +snow-capped mountains, with the sad-faced “tourist friend” sometimes, +and sometimes with some others, for the writer’s camp-fire side +companions, and having found life good and Nature joyous, and as “There +is more or less poetry about the souls of all men”--(and some women +also, perhaps!) it is not strange, therefore, (is it?) that the author +of this unpretentious little book has fallen, half-unconsciously, as +it were, into hymning joy-notes to Nature and to disconsolate humanity +(presumably!) likewise. + +Now, trusting, therefore, that a more lengthy retrospection will not +be necessary to sufficiently apologize for our unpremeditated literary +transgressions, our impromptu sentimental love-ditties, etc., we +therefore, with best wishes to all and with malice to none, and with +the reader’s kind permission, will accordingly without further delay +or comment, proceed to the final rehearsal of our felicitous, although +evidently artless, minstrelsy. + + THE AUTHOR. + + + + +HAPPY DAYS + +CAROLINGS OF COLORADO ETC. + + + + +_GREETINGS TO GLADNESS_ + + + Come, Bliss. Who likes a fretting child? + It is the mirthful spright we love. + On Joy, propitious gods have smiled. + No worthier cherub dwells above. + + In laughing eyes we lingering gaze; + There’s beauty in a happy face! + If Gladness lacked in classic mould + Were not his charms yet manifold? + + Come, Spirit, then--come, social Cheer. + We crave diversion and delight. + With thy sweet smiles dry Sorrow’s tear; + Bright angels’ visits make our lives more bright. + + + + +_LIVE MERRILY_ + + + Why pensive, mortals? Why still? Why sad? + Cheer up, dear fellows, and be glad. + Live merrily--live while you may, + Gaily, gaily tripping along life’s way, + Waste not--dejectedly brooding--waste not these few brief, fleeting + hours, + After death, as after night, dawns the brighter, fairer day. + Be happy, then, be thankful, grateful as the conscious, smiling + flowers. + + Have hope, have faith, have charity; + Trust to inherit immortality. + At Pleasure’s fount dip deep; + In its pure, ecstatic tide thy troubles steep. + Grave saint--if righteous souls shall joyous live again + Why should we sorrow here? Why vainly foster care and pain? + Nay, nay, most happy presence, acquainted best with joy and love + Are those best fitted, sir, for life--for sacred, hallowed life above. + + + + +_COLORADO SKIES_ + + + Colorado skies! Colorado skies! + Oh, what a depth of color in them lies! + How bright to-day--how azure are Colorado skies! + + Colorado skies! Colorado’s lustrous skies! + In those clear wells above, + Where the unimpaired optic never tires to rove, + Behold! two sable eagles--their wheeling flights pursue, + The only fleeting shadows in those arching vaults of blue. + + Colorado skies! Colorado’s peerless skies! + Oh, what sweet dreams, what joyous hopes arise, + To all who cast their destinies beneath Colorado’s wondrous skies. + + Colorado skies! Colorado’s splendid skies! + At dawn, when swift the curling mists arise; + When crimson-colored flame, the orient horizon o’erspreads, + And shy day-nymphs awake from slumber on their golden beds, + + ’Tis then that smiling Fortune, lavishly rewards the bold emprise + Of those who wisely early rise beneath Colorado’s matchless skies. + Colorado skies! Colorado’s glorious skies! + No lowering clouds--no lingering mists arise. + How bright to-day--how propitious are Colorado’s skies. + + + + +_WILD-WOODLAND RAMBLINGS_ + + + Down--adown among the green, wild-woodland alleys, + And across the sweet valleys, + Through forests of spruce trees and pine; + With the birds, and the beasts, and the flowers for my allies + I rove--oh I rove, with “The Spirit Divine.” + + Down, deep down in the wild rocky canons; + Up, high up on the cool sterile plateau’s above, + Joy, Joy and Hope are still my companions, + For, oh, for, oh, I am charmed and elated wherever I rove. + + Down, then--down through the green leafy alleys, + And across the sweet valleys + Deeper, deeper still into forests of aspens and pine; + Thus, thus ’mongst tall, shady groves I am daily making new sallies, + For, oh, for oh, the much-roving spirits of gladness and of + song-singing madness are mine. + + + + +_DOWN AMONG THE GRASSES_ + + + Down--adown among the tall green grasses + By the spring-fed pool, + Where the flowers nod and beckon in the wind that passes-- + Nod and beckon like sweet little lassies + Like fair little Hellenic lassies, (glancing with their bright eyes) + Like fair little Hellenic lassies, just turned loose from their + classical classes + Like glad little Grecian children just a-coming home from school. + + And the dragon-flies in their bright cuirasses + And the crickets that chirrup by rule, + And the clouds floating by in great, white, cumulous masses, + And the small, glad voices, and the flowers and the grasses, + And the sky and the clouds mirrored way down in the pool, + Makes one dream of the old song-sacred Parnassus, + And of the nymph-haunted Hippocrene cool. + + And we sigh for the poet’s winged-steed Pegasus + Just to soar away up high! + Just to scale those wild aerial passes, + Just to rise above those great, white, cumulous, cloud masses, + And to plunge and tumble down the blue vaults of the sky. + + Away up above us--in those splendid cloud-cities! + With their portals of gold and their turrets so fair, + We seem to hear angels a-piping their wonderful ditties, + And we long to be there--oh, we long to be there. + + White Wings! White Wings! Come bear us away, + Come bear us away, o’er river, o’er mountain and plain. + Oh, bear us away to that land of tall palms and green sassafrasses, + And then--oh, then, bear us back here to this wild, sweet, pretty + valley again. + + + + +_IN THE WILD WILD-WOODS TO-DAY_ + + + Away--far away--in the wild wild-woods to-day! + Underneath the spreading, cool, green boughs sitting, + Nesting birds above us flitting, + Seem to sing--seem to say: + “Mortals sad, be good, be good--be glad--be gay!” + + Little hearts full of glee, + Happy as happy can be; + In the wavy bushes seen, + In the tall, tufted tree-tops between, + Singing, singing merrily, + Singing, singing--seem to say: + “Mortals sad, be good, be good--be glad to-day!” + + + + +_I’LL SING SOME SONGS FOR FAME TO-NIGHT_ + + + Respected fellow traveler, ’tho I can carol like a bird + Dame Fame my voice has never heard. + Hear, then, congenial tourist, comrade with delight-- + I’ll sing some songs for Fame to-night. + + Fame oft has heard the wail of Sadness; + Fame knows the lay of Trouble well, + Then I will sing for her the songs of gladness, + For her, for her, the tale of Joy I’ll tell. + + + + +_MAID OF DENVER, ARE YOU CAMPING?_ + + + _He_: + “Maid of Denver, are you camping? + In my field your mules are tramping. + Please, Miss, do not think me rude; + ’Tis not my intention to intrude. + Just this morn I saw your fire-- + Thought I’d step down and inquire.” + + _She_: + “Yes, sir; yes, sir; we are camping; + That’s our tent, there, in the willows. + Pa and Ma are fishing, I suppose: + Too bad, too bad, our team is tramping + In your meadow green and wide. + But, sir, oh, if you will kindly help me chase them out, sir, + My folks, henceforth, no doubt, sir, + Will be good enough to keep them tied.” + + _He_: + “Maid of Denver, let them stay--let them stray; + They won’t hurt my clover--never, nay. + Happy creatures! Watch them race and leap! + Romp and roll, wallow in my herd’s grass--lush and deep! + Off! ye saucy rogues! Away, away! go frisk and play; + (They won’t harm my _trifolium incarnatum_, no, never--never, nay!)” + + + + +_MAID OF DENVER, TAKE MY ARM_ + + + Maid of Denver, take my arm; + Stroll with me, about my farm. + Trustier guide you’ll never know. + No, no, Maid of Denver, don’t say no! + + Come, merry lass, come skip with me across the green; + Climb up steep heights where foot hath never been. + Just back of Frank Mann’s, on the rocks, + Watch Massey’s shepherds tend their flocks. + + Or would you rather rove cool hills between? + Exploring, mayhap, many a sylvan scene? + Or nay--no--you wisely choose beneath tall trees, + To just sit here, and sweetly take your ease. + + Then, Maid of Denver, here’s my hand! + Share, oh kindly share with me my land. + Fonder “hubby” you will never know, + No, no, my pretty maid, my city maid, I love, I love you so. + + + + +_“POET, MAY I PAIL YOUR COW?”_ + + + _She_: + “Poet--pastoral poet-- + Poet, don’t you know it? + Poet, please, sir, may I now? + Poet, I would dearly love to pail your cow!” + + _He_: + “Maid of Denver, then you may; + I will bait her with some hay. + So, boss--so, there, now! + So,--so--you blamed old cow! + + “Just watch her kick-up, like a steer; + Race away in mad career; + But I can catch her; oh, yes, dear-- + Snare her with my lariat + Snub her, stretch her out, + Tie her horns and tie her feet, + She may bellow, she may fret. + We shall pail her. Conquer her? Oh dear, yes, you bet! + + “Maid of Denver, try her now; + She is humbled--s’drat that cow! + Did she cavort like a steer? + Bellow loudly in your ear? + She did; yes, she did. But shall we pail her?” + + _She_: + “Well, no, nay--not just now, poet, dear.” + + + + +_WAS MAN MADE TO MOURN?_ + + “Man was made to mourn.” + + --Robert Burns. + + + From Eden barred, abased, forlorn + Man, some mortals say, was made to mourn. + (Some even think his wicked soul should burn!) + Of “sin original,” inoculated at the first, + His “scapegoat” race they hold accursed. + + For Adam’s fault they’d make his offspring’s sweat, + For Eve’s one error do hateful penance yet. + Such silly cant--such canters--I could spurn! + Nay, nay, man was not made to mourn. + + Joy, joy, presided at our birth; + Heaven sent great gladness upon earth. + Nature triumphed on our natal morn. + Creation thrilled when man was born! + + Nay, nay; man was not made to mourn! + Discard that old familiar saw. + It is a rusty relic, dull and worn, + A heathen tool with many a flaw. + + Nay, nay, it is a duty to be good; + It is religious to be glad! + O’er wrongs, o’er losses, wherefore brood? + ’Tis wicked--sinful--to be sad! + + Nay, nay; man was not made to mourn; + From Grief (that vile old sorceress) let us turn, + At Pleasure’s shrine, far holier, happier lessons, we shall learn. + + + + +_A HAPPY LOITERER_ + + + Beneath our blue Colorado skies, + Where tall mountains gladden eyes, + Here I seek the care-free muse + Till life’s burdens all I lose. + + Far away from Sorrow’s brood, + How I love serene, sweet Solitude! + What to me is worldling’s strife, + While I lead this placid, unobtrusive life? + + Men or crosses, men of rules, + Teach me not in Trouble’s schools. + Wilful truant, I would lie + Listening to the wild-bird’s melody. + + In my forest by the stream + Let me worship, let me dream, + Loving Nature and her ways, + I would court her all my days. + + + + +_ANGLING IN THE PLATTE_ + + + On a log beside the Platte, + With my tackle and my basket, + Sitting where I long have sat, + I am fishing! Should you ask it? + + Idling,--dreaming time away! + Thinking many happy thoughts to-day. + Fleeting moments never heeding, + While the hungry fishes feeding, + Still I watch and still I wait; + Let the minnows steal my bait! + Mine--mine is the pleasure and repose-- + That the never-fretting, catch-forgetting, gladness netting angler + only knows. + + Tired worker--up! away! + Leave thy labors for a day. + At the river life is sweet; + At the river we shall meet. + Rest and play! Rejoice and be gay! + Recreation has its season. + Put thy cark and care away, + (Death from over-work to-day is clearly out of reason!) + + Comrade,--cheerless comrade, break thy bondage and be free; + Nature’s self will welcome thee; + Countless blessings she can give, + Come with nature, then, and live. + + Nodding, nodding, napping by the brook, + With no bait upon my hook; + Dreaming dreams of summer sweet. + While the ripples kiss my feet. + While the wind blows through my hair, + Know I not an earthly care. + Oh, the restful, rapturous repose + That the care-dispelling, mirth-compelling, sometimes story-telling, + always joyful angler only knows. + + On a log beside the Platte, + With my tackle and my basket, + Sitting where I long have sat;-- + Am I fishing?--can you--really can you ask it? + + + + +_TO YE CHEERLESS HERMIT_ + + + Arise! thou melancholy recluse--arise! Leave thy cell! + Turn not thy days to night. + Vile beasts and bats in darkness dwell; + For us, God made the light. + + For us, the sunshine and the flowers; + For us, the birds, the bees, + The leafy trees, the odorous bowers; + And all our wants, God planned to please. + + Come, then, come out into the day! + Look up! Choke down thy silly grief; + Fling all thy cark and care away; + Rejoice! Help Nature sing her psalm of life. + + Gloomy scholar, drop that skull! + Ghoulish research there is vain; + Studies such are void and null; + From Pleasure learn the cure of pain! + + Be glad! _Thy joy may cheer another!_ + Weep not. (_Grief wounds not self alone!_) + Heap not thy sorrows on thy brother; + Old Misery’s sighs would e’en make angels groan! + + Apostle of Woe, thy faith’s a fable; + Try schemes of sorrow ill. + Joy and Hope are props more stable; + Merry, men may be, and righteous, too, who will. + + + + +_RECUPERATING IN NATURE’S SANITARIUM_ + + + Disconsolate friend, if truly sore-distressed thou art by care and + pain, + Plunge, then, with me into the deep, continuous woods. + Health there, and hope, to thee will come again; + Untroubled there we both may well indulge our favorite, loftier + moods. + + Remote,--afar from dust and din of crowded cities,-- + By waters cool, how sweet! how delectable! to spend one’s leisure + time! + To listening hills, I there will croon my artless ditties + And shout, aye, loudly shout “heroics!” in Nature’s halls sublime. + + Near by yon crystal mountain lake, + Hemmed in by cliff and sylvan wide, + My hunter’s home I there would gladly make; + There happy, as the famed “Tuck friar,” in the forest glade reside. + + In other days,--with saddle horse and pack! + (Permit me, please, to trace my earlier rambles back!) + When “whipping for trout” the rippled mountain streams, + Or “prospecting,” perchance, for that yellow dross that gleams + Ever brightly in man’s waking dreams. + Again, with Hope, I scale the lofty, snow-capped peak, + Again, with Joy, I cross vast plateaus wild and bleak, + Once more a thirst for water on hot desert plains, + Or else, half-drowned, I camp out in the rains! + + ’Mongst pleasing memories thus, learn, oh, learn to live thy summers + o’er and o’er; + Again to stand exulting on the storm-lashed shore. + Dear heart! thy Great Creator’s joy is largely thine; + No want he made but gave food to supply. + This is a universal law divine; + The very wish thou hast to gain immortality, + Is strongest proof that “thou shalt not surely die.” + + Thus idling, grudge not, yet, to spend some precious hours; + Oh, kindly still sit here with me and muse among the flowers. + Behold! deep in the spacious hollow of yon evening sky + Afar,--almost beyond the reach of mortal’s ken,-- + How brightly there His clustering islands lie, + How sweet the hope, there, after death, to live again! + + To thee--to me--what is the flight of time? + Count not as lost the fleeting hours we squander here in + contemplations thus. + In those star-worlds, whose light-beams bridge o’er space, + Read there God’s covenants sublime: + Eternity! eternity! was made for us! + + + + +_AUTUMNAL SPORTS_ + + + Oh, much I love the spring-time, when the nesting birds are here, + And much I love the summer days also, when brooks are bright and clear. + Greatly, too, I prize the winter season, with its fireside chat and + cheer, + But sweeter, fairer far to me, is Autumn’s bracing, splendid weather! + When the spicy, frost-bit, gold-hued forest leaves are falling, + When the fearless, dusky, brownish bob-white quail is calling, + Calling boldly from the stubble-field to his timid scattered coveys in + the thickets near, + So right off I get my “shooting-iron,” and my doggie I untether! + And away, away we blithely stroll together, + O’er the russet lawns, and on adown unto the fenlands, to our hearts so + dear. + + And when arrived there soon, + Some rapid, random shots I take + At the frightened ducks that squawking leave the lake, + And my doggie on the run, + And the direful booming of my gun, + Sets my heart a-beating, beating, + For old Death himself might think that I were cheating, cheating + Him out of half the “sanguine kills” that he himself would joy to make. + + + + +_POT-HUNTING BESIDE THE PLATTE_ + + + Oh, what fun! Oh, what fun! + With my doggie and my gun + Tramping, tramping, strolling in the sun! + + “_Quack! squack!_” Look there! Look! + Just above yon sluggish meadow-brook. + Six fat mallards up and off in flight. + Willie--Willie Greener! What delight! + Willie, watch me knock them left and right. + _Crack--crack_--sounds my good “repeater.” + _Crack--crack_--she may be an old shot-eater, + _Crack--crack_--did I miss the whole blamed bunch? + Oh, no; just “salted down six” for lunch. + Willie--Willie Greener! Talk about your handsome double gun! + But my beloved “pump,” why she just beats the band for fun. + + Colorado laws protect (?) the quails! + But we make it warm for snipes and rails. + _“Quack! squack!”--crack--“squack”!_ + Heavens! did I miss that “jack”? + Doggie--doggie--ain’t it funny + We so seldom now can find a bunny? + _“Honk--conk--honk”--pop-pop--pop-pop-pop--pop._ + Great Scots! Watch those wild geese drop and flop. + My Muse! My Muse! By George, I think that we had better stop + Before George Shields, of “brittle brush sensation,” + Gets our photos (blushing photos!) painted for his Recreation. + + + + +_THE ANTELOPE HUNT_ + + + In the country of Bijou, + Just in sight of mountains capped with snow, + Stalking the “prong-horns” on the plain, + Once each year I go again. + + The sun is up. His glorious smile + Illumes each ridge and dim defile. + The scent of sage and desert flowers + Makes dainty, sweet, these morning hours. + Forth leaps my steed; my pulses start. + By zephyrs cool my cheeks are fanned. + Away! Away! and with glad heart + I roam my own, my native prairie land! + + Now, whilst broad grass-flats skimming o’er. + What thrilling dreams of days of yore,-- + Of bison hunts that are no more; + Of Indians red that vanished, too, + Like much big game “ye old-time hunters” slew. + Save a few prong-horns, fleet and sly, + That still roam o’er these deserts dry, + Those beasts,--those nomads,--all are gone! + Like shifting sands, they hurried on, + As phantoms in a wizard’s glass, + Seen but a moment e’er they pass. + Such memories flash across my mind, + Then fading, leave regrets behind. + + But hence, ye dreams! Away! Away! + Time is so brisk, so very fleeting; + High rolls the sun,--supreme his sway;-- + Hot, red hot! on my poor head his beams are beating. + But no complaint,--I hunt to-day! + To-day I seek the noble quarry; + Just as of old I come to slay, + (I yearn to bag at least one prong-horn wary!) + But all in vain I scan the plain: + I scower, likewise, the ridges airy. + I halt, glance back, dash on again, + From right to left I keep a turning; + I plunge among the sand-hills burning, + Then in and out, around and over, + But I can find those sly beasts nowhere,--never! + + Nay, neither hoof nor horn have I spied; + In all my mad Mazeppa ride; + Tempted by the mirage lake, + Mocking thirst it cannot slake, + Scanning landscapes dim and hazy, + Till my eyeballs nearly burst, + Till I seem a-going crazy + From pangs of heat and thirst, + Down, down to yonder sandy creek I will hie, + I must drink--and drink p-d-q--or surely I shall die. + + Evening scents, and odors cool, + Flights of ducks above a pool; + Now, in the bunched sand-grass lying, + From a high hill-top I am spying; + In a neighboring deep ravine, + Stands my hobbled steed unseen; + All around, elsewhere, a cheerless waste,-- + But see, there! At last! at last! + Trooping up yon sunny slope, + There! there! behold! My long-sought antelope! + + Slowly, surely, toward me feeding, + A monarch buck his subjects leading; + Soon at my feet he will lie bleeding. + On,--on he comes! What a prize! + I can see his very eyes! + Now he stands _at gaze_, + In a half bewildered daze. + There,--not eighty yards away! + Turns his head the landscape to survey. + Horns a yard long (or perhaps a foot!) + Heavens! what a proud, exalted brute! + How,--how my pulses throb and thrill, + Oh, oh, _what a joy it is to kill_! + As I glance along the tube of death + I can scarcely draw my breath, + Suppressing the emotions that I feel, + Till my nerves grow firm as steel. + (Nay, nay; I tremble just a trifle.) + _Crack!_ sounds my little 30-30 rifle; + Down he goes,--like a rock! + Marcus Brutus! what a shock! + Just behind the left shoulder, + Struck him a thousand-pounds jolter. + Round me, now, prong-horns, snort and leap; + I could kill a dozen if I chose; + Drop them, almost, in a heap. + But I am not a butcher, God knows; + Yet, nathless I cut his throat, + And above him stand and gloat. + + But when the deed is done, the excitement over, + I feel a sense of sorrow ever. + And when up to the gory scene + I lead my gentle, courser, Queen, + (She is a large gray, dapple mare, + With wavy tail and main, and glossy hair.) + Straight, straight up to my game she goes; + Oh, a thing or two she knows! + And I heave it on her back; + But it tumbles “overboard” ker-whack! + Does she snort, and pitch and bolt? + And “swat” me with her heels a jolt? + Oh, no,--just stretches forth her nose; + Just touches my victim with her nose; + Just fondles him with her soft, velvety nose, + Just caresses him as if he were a colt, + Just as if he were a little sleeping colt. + And she shames me with her eyes, + With her big, black, wondering eyes, + Full of reproach and surprise, + Till my heart within me cries, + Deploring these, my loved iniquities. + Till I vow to never kill again, + But, such oath, of course, will be forsworn! + And proud and happy homeward soon I hie; + I’ll be plotting other _coups de grace_ bye and bye. + + In the country of Bijou! + Just in sight of mountains capped with snow, + Stalking the prong-horns on the plain + Will we go?--oh, will we go again? + + + + +_AT MY LITTLE CABIN HOME_ + + + At my little cabin home, + In the timber by the Platte; + Have I ever cared to roam? + Go away, quit, forsake my little, cozy, quaint, Colorado home? + No, no; I could not,--could not think of that. + Happy as a monarch I reside, + In the forest by my native river-side. + + In the valley of the Platte + I am plucking flowers to-day, + Early wildings of the May. + See! I’ve nearly filled my hat! + + Ridge-flowers red, sand-lilies white, + Tufts of snowy-crested plumes; + Currants crowned with golden blooms; + Hawthorne-buds, bursting into light. + + Strolling in the grove, + Gathering flowers for my love, + Gathering sweet flowers of the May + Oh, my heart, my heart is glad to-day! + + From my little cabin home + By the swiftly-flowing Platte, + Where the trout grow large and fat, + Have I ever cared to roam? + Go away, quit, forsake my little, cozy, quaint, Colorado home? + No, no; I could not,--could not think of that. + Happy as a monarch I reside + In the forest by my native river-side. + + + + +_TO WALTER WHITMAN_ + + + Walter Whitman! Walter Whitman! + Walter, won’t you never quit, man? + Say neighbor, say, throw those hyadons away! + Those small wigglers are not fit, man, + To make good canned sardines, I say. + + Walter Whitman! Walter Whitman! + Walter, don’t you ever kind of wish + Just to drop down by the Platte and sit, man, + And laze, and laze, and yank out some big fish? + + Walter Whitman! Walter, we have “whoppers” here! + What think you of twenty pounder trout? + Walt, Walt, bring along your spear, + You will call ’em “whales,” no doubt. + + Walter Whitman! Walter Whitman! + Walter, ain’t you yet caught it, man? + Hey, neighbor! Hey there! I say. + Walt, Walt, just please step down to our house; + We have “natives,” “rainbows,” venison and grouse, + Come, Walter, come, dine with us to-day. + + + + +_KING MAMMON_ + + + Attended by his glittering train, + King Mammon drives his chariot by, + Prostrate and bleeding, on the plain, + His crushed, yet fawning, subjects lie. + + A mighty monarch--oh, ho! ho! is he! + His hand shuts like a hasp. + He dictates to “the Powers that be”; + The nations tremble in his grasp. + + For him “the lilies of the field” + Their sweetest, sacred incense yield. + He labors not--why should he toil? + (For him the servile millions moil!) + + A tyrant old--ah, ha! ha! he is; + He rules the earth, he rules the seas, + The rolling planets he would chain; + He robs the farmers of their grain; + He cheats the worker of his wage; + He whelms the peasant in his rage; + The merchant’s ruin swells his gain; + Beneath his chariot wheels profane + Ten thousand wights each year are slain. + + Kneel, then, ye hosts! Grovel on the plain! + King Mammon is driving by. + Behold! Thugs, cut-throats--in his train! + Hands up! Yield! Deliver! or ye shall die. + + + + +“_LO QUE ES EL MUNDI_” + + + In the Old World, in the New, + Blameless mortals are but few; + Men are scheming--ever dreaming + Of the precious metals gleaming. + Ever bent on money getting, + They are fretting, they are sweating; + Some are sighing, almost crying, + Others cheating, others lying! + Some are fasting, some are pining, + Many over-drinking, over-dining; + Hundreds swearing, groaning, whining, + God forgetting! Joy declining! + Oh, the rabble, babble, scrabble, squabble, + Oh, the heart-ache, hate and strife and trouble,-- + All for “filthy lucre,” that most greedy men would gladly gobble. + + In the New World, in the Old, + Shameless wights are bought and sold; + Mammon tempts them with his gold; + Hungry “thralls” without positions, + Preachers, paupers, venal politicians, + Half-salaried clerks, quack physicians, + Useless drones with fat commissions; + Soulless sharks grab all below. + Syndicates and trusts, they “knead the dough!” + Honest labor, stands small show, + For Rothschilds & Company whole nations “hoe.” + Bursted banks make hard conditions, + Dampen, somewhat, our ambitions, + Aggravate our evil dispositions. + + In the Old World, in the New, + Saintly “grafters” fleece the sinner crew. + Labor’s hard, they know, to shirk, + But the old “skin game,” can’t they work? + “Gospel guides” deign not to moil, + Nor earn their bread by honest toil. + Converted “lambs” they will despoil, + Yet oh, oh, their hands they hate to soil! + Collections large they love to see, + They e’en would pilfer charity! + How dare, how dare they levy tax on you and me! + _God’s word it should be free_, + So taught the Christ, they killed at Calvary! + + Were, oh, were these “chosen few” but fewer! + Honest men then might profit more. + But long as selfish Self serves only Self, + So long as preachers preach for pelf, + The righteous will lag back and not lead, + “The heathen” will despise your creed, + And count “ye saints,” most scurvy knaves indeed. + + Wolves! What wolves beset both church and state! + From prelate to chief magistrate, + God’s debater and ye legislator + Each alike to Heavy Purse will cater. + Oh old Money Bags, he knows + How to bribe “hobos” + To vote a “single tax” + That will break poor farmers’ backs + And poor bachelors’ backs--by Halifax!--as well. + + Crush out small realty owners, + Exempt large money loaners, + Leave half the values unassessed, + Double the rates on the rest, + Limit the coinage, confiscate the lands, + Collect more revenues and rents + To pay--_to pay_ THE GOVERNMENT EXPENSE! + + Oh, ye vile viper classes! + How ye prey upon the masses! + Burden your brethren, like so many stupid asses! + Tax-eaters and tax-beaters, + Cold voters, heelers, thugs and repeaters, + (Listen, ye doubting Thomases, ye Peters), + Czar Shylocks hath our millions got; + You and I have dearth of dimes, God wot? + Force and fraud, fakir and robber, + Shovel our dollars into their hopper, + For humanity, _such_ care not a copper. + + Arise! Arise! Ye long down-trod, + Can Greed, can Wrong arrest the wrath of God? + Have ye no heart, no courage left? + Of reason, too, are you bereft? + Combine, combine ye hosts, with awful power, + _Organization will curb oppression in one brief hour_. + + Beware! Beware! Ye sons of pride; + Watch well “the farmer with the hoe,” + Watch well the tradesman at his side, + They plot--they plan! a tyrant’s overthrow. + + Up then! Unite! All honest men unite! + Amass your forces, drill, make ready for the fight. + Fall in line--fill up the ranks of Truth and Right. + March on! March on! In your native love of justice strong + Wage relentless, rebellious war on Greed and Wrong! + + What, become anarchists? No, oh, no--thrice no. + Could Christian wish that blood should flow? + No, no; but brave like Him of Nazareth, the frail, the lowly, + Him who yet waged battles great and holy; + Such fearless warriors again shall clear the way. + Truths bravely told turn fraud away + By scorning, scathing cheats--by honest acts--by honest ballots-- + Just men yet shall masters be who now are valets! + + + + +_TO YE WORTHY SAILOR MAN_ + + + Sailor-man! Sailor-man! + Sail on--and sing if you can: + “Sail on with a heart full of cheer, + With a confidence strong and sincere. + Fight out life’s daily battles without fretting or fear. + Tho’ your fond hopes may fail, + Never sit down with a tear to wail; + Just trim your sail to meet the ever-shifting gale + Of success and good-fortune; never despair. + Success and good-fortune, ever await those who persistently persevere.” + + Sailor-man--tho’ it may seem hard to die, + To pass away and leave no trace behind, + No sign, no token of thy dark or bright career, + No glorious name to dower posterity, + Yet, oh, oh yet, he that doeth good, is honest and kind, + Or he who falls fighting bravely the righteous battle is just as + dear, + Is just as worthy and deserving in God’s eyes + As he who wins on earth immortal victories. + + To serve thy great Creator faithfully + Should be thy constant solace and delight. + Truth and principle are worth more to thee + Than all the riches of earth’s treasury bright. + Better a life of worthy poverty and honorable defeat, + Than kingdoms won through oppression and deceit. + + Sailor-man, sailor-man, the pure at heart alone are glad. + True happiness in bosom vile can never dwell. + The vain-glorious and the criminal both alike are sad. + Bid, then, to pride, vanity and malevolence farewell. + + Sailor-man, sailor-man, in thy rectitude serene and strong, + Having done thy “lubber mates” no wrong, + So live on, sailor-man, that when thou shalt die, + To the mystic realms of Death thou shalt go trustingly; + With no guilt at thy heart, and no shame on thy face, + But being worthy, and confident still of His mercy and grace, + So thou shalt stand without fear in the grand, solemn courts Upon High, + Foreseeing that a kind, loving Wisdom beyond the dank grave + Will never let perish one single, pure, precious worthy life that He + gave. + + Sailor-man, sailor-man + Sail on, it soon will be dawn. + Sail on, without fretting or fear. + The darkness is lifting--no breakers are near! + Sailor-man, sail on, with a heart full of cheer! + + + + +_BE JOYOUS, BE GENTLE, WORTHY, KIND_ + + + Be joyous! Yes, be joyous--be gentle, worthy, kind; + Fling rank, fling titles to the wind; + Put pride, put selfishness behind; + Throw caste, throw prejudice away! + Show mankind more humanity; + You may not live another day. + + Why mortals frail? Why vain? Why proud? + Soon lowly ye shall lie, swathed in a shroud. + Alike, the rich, the great, the small, + The grave ere long engulfeth all. + Time’s scythe mows down all human kind; + Time spares no rank. Oh, Death and Time, are blind. + + Then, mortals frail, be just, be good; + Treat not thy fellows mean and rude; + Ye who true happiness would know + Must kindness first to others show. + Learn, then, ye mortals who are sad, + Kind acts! Kind acts will make you glad. + + Have honor, truth, and principle. + Thy word should be thy bond. Fulfill + Thy promises; nor lie for further favors still. + Cheat not That One who “credit” gives; + They who defraud are worst of thieves! + What chance have they in Heaven to dwell + Who swindle God and man on earth--pray tell? + + Of worldly pelf, when thou hast need, + Go work, go work. ’Tis good to delve! + Hard labor counts. Be not afraid. + Great power lies within thy self. + Apply that force. Begin! Why wait? + Self-effort delays not that friends may aid. + + Have courage! Yes, be brave. + Cowardice is a self-fettered slave! + Have lofty purposes, ambitious dreams! + He is a clod who never schemes. + Energy, economy, skill, thoroughness, + Par excellence, insures success! + + Be useful. Yes, bear thy hard load! + Rebel not ’gainst the will of God. + Work! Work! All honest toil is blessed. + Work faithfully; soon thou shalt rest. + To further some great good intent He placed thee here; + Then murmur not--be of good cheer. + + At one, at many failures be not dismayed. + Out of failures fortunes, master-works are made! + Thou cans’t be good, thou cans’t be great! + ’Tis not too late; tis not too late,-- + Tho’ thy heart were black as night;--tho’ + Thy hands were stained with blood,--yet + God’s grace (and penance yet) would make thee white as snow. + + A purpose have--firmly fixed, unchangeable! Staid as are Hercules’ + rocks. + Thus anchored fast unto Hope’s solid shore + Thou cans’t withstand griefs ruder schocks. + Let, oh let adversity’s mad ocean-billows roar + Round thee. Hate’s spume shall fall as sea-flakes tossed but in jest. + To pleasant dreams thou cans’t lie down, securely, sweetly rest + Disturbed by neither Slander’s viper-tongue nor Mar’s iron crest. + + Build,--build thy abode on solid ground, + With massive walls and battlements around. + What tho’ misfortune’s myrmadons come thick and fast! + Abiding Confidence will rout the prowling foe at last. + Complacent be in darkness--complacent be in rain; + The never-quenched sun soon will shine again. + + Lo! Is not earth a school? An outer court? + A place wherein rude Intelligence is taught? + Is not the soul immortal? Does not Death but tear away + Life’s soiled habilaments of clay? + If so--have, then, no fear of thy “good valet” Death. + He strips thee but to cleanse, and better clothe. + + Have hope, have faith, have charity; + Strive to merit immortality. + At Pleasure’s fount dip deep. + In its pure ecstatic tide thy troubles steep. + Grave saint, if _righteous souls shall joyous live again_ + Why should we sorrow here? Why vainly foster care and pain? + Nay, nay, most happy presence, acquainted best with Joy and Love + Are those best fitted, sir, for life,--for exalted consecrated life + above. + + Then, mortals blest, why still? Why sad? + Cheer up, dear fellows, and be glad. + Live merrily--live while you may, + Gaily, gaily tripping along life’s way. + Waste not these few, these fleeting, precious hours; + After death, as after night, dawns the brighter, fairer day, + Be happy, then, be thankful, grateful as the flowers. + + + + +_MY COLORADO_ + + + Colorado! Oh, my own beloved Colorado! + Colorado, in the early days of spring; + Colorado, “when the birds are on the wing.” + Colorado, Colorado, ’tis of thee I dearly love to sing! + + Colorado, when the brooks are flowing full and free; + Colorado, when “the herds come lowing o’er the lea”; + Colorado! Colorado! Oh, my own beloved Colorado! + Colorado is the place for you, friend, and for me. + + Colorado, Colorado in the Autumn’s golden glow; + Colorado, when the hills are capped with snow; + Colorado, when the skies are soft and blue; + Colorado, Colorado,--how I do love you! + Colorado! Oh, my own beloved Colorado! + + + + +_BEAUTIFUL COLORADO_ + + + Colorado! Oh, what a glorious country! + Colorado! Could Nature more beautious be? + Colorado! See! Laughing sky is deep violet blue, + And rolling prairie is emerald hue, + While mountain leaps up from the foot-hill below, + Great billow on billow of lily-white snow. + + Oh, look away to the south! + There yawns a canon’s great mouth,-- + While out of the hazy distance beyond + Behold Pike’s proud peak, so mighty and grand! + Then lifting her snowy-white head high up in the West, + Like a fond mother o’er offspring asleep on her breast, + Madame Lincoln looks down on many a baby-peak’s crest. + And joyous ever, rippling, murmuring near, + With music most sweet to the ear, + We catch the glad, sparkling beam + Of our Platte River--muse-haunted stream. + + + + +_AT LITTLETON “IN THE GOOD OLD SUMMER TIME”_ + + + At Littleton! At fair, auspicious Littleton! + Upon a slope that tips it to the setting sun + The village stands. Its lanes are spacious, wide, + With purling brooks beside. + Its grounds are ample, and shade trees, + By the cool walks, arch greenly overhead. + The cottages by the thick leaves are almost hid. + On summer days, in wanton play, the breeze + Steals through the boughs, and down the beautious ways + The flowers scent the mellow airs, + And wavily beside the fount, where the clear water smiles, + Chaldea’s willow trails her silky hairs. + + In pleasing contrast with yon damask rose, + How sweetly here the lily blows. + Here blissful poppies loll in calm repose, + And saucy sun-flowers coquette with the sun + At Littleton--at fair, auspicious Littleton! + + + + +_AT ENGLEWOOD ON AN AFTERNOON IN MAY_ + + + At Englewood--at cool, shady Englewood! + At Englewood to-day everything seems bright and good. + Here thrifty orchards blossoming lavishly around + Scatter their shell-like petals on the ground. + Here fragrance-exhaling lilacs scent the breeze, + And the wild-birds carol in the trees. + Here are fresh, green gardens,--and between, the flash of tiny rills; + And, beyond--behold--the everlasting hills! + Here crowds of happy people continuously we meet, + On the cars and in the street, + And a social spirit everywhere + Whispers,--“fellow traveler, abandon care”; + “Oh, for one afternoon, at least, be gay!” + “Enjoy sweet idleness, partner, while you may.” + + + + +_SEEKING OUR TWO LITTLE BROWN BOYS_ + + + Tell me, oh, my sweetest dove, + And ye watchful birdlings in the nest above, + Have you not seen our two little Brown boys? + Our two little _bad_ Brown boys? + They have both run away in quest of new toys + And now, now we are seeking--seeking in vain for our boys. + + There’s the little boy Joy, and the little boy Love; + They have both toddled off, new pleasures to prove; + They are both much inclined for to rove, + And our rest and our peace of mind thus they destroy, + And now, now we can’t find neither bad boy. + Hah, there--ye rogues! through the thick bushes creeping, + At last, at last, me thinks I see them both peeping. + Come then--come ye dear babes--but whenever again we shall get you, + Run away, never, never more to-day, will we let you. + + + + +_TEARS_ + + “Needless tears.”--Tennyson. + + + A-pleasure seeking all my days, + What use have I for churlish tears? + Or sorrow’s dirge? Or Melancholia’s lays? + Joy’s rosy foot-paths I would follow onward yet for years. + Blossoms gay, and butterflies; + Light and life--hope and high emprise! + Rainbow tints allure my eyes! + Spend not, spend not thy hours in weeping; + Soon, soon in the grave we shall be sleeping. + + Pensive stranger, banish sadness; + Search the fields in quest of gladness; + Seek in sunshine, seek in shadow,-- + Joy is waiting in the meadow. + Kindly faces, tempers sweet, + Loving friends on life’s journey we shall meet. + + Tourist, then,--traveler,--grief is madness; + Tarry not with frenzy-chained Sadness. + Hark! hark! In budding forests near + Happy birds are singing clear; + Nature’s heart is full of cheer. + Spend not, spend not thy hours in weeping. + With hope, with joy thy heart, thy care-constrained heart, it should be + leaping. + + + + +_TO OUR LITTLE JOY-PRINCE--CHERUB DELIGHT_ + + + Come! thou little rosy urchin; come, I pray thee. + Sorrow’s hand no longer here shall delay thee. + Down among the tall, green grasses swaying, + Where the lambs and lambkins glad are playing, + In meadows warm, where the lassies fair, and the laddies, are a Maying, + In flower-decked fields we likewise should be straying. + By still waters bright, + Where the wild ducks curve in rapid flight, + Basking in the warm sunshine; + Drinking in a joy divine. + In cool gardens, full of flowers, + Sweeter than the famed Hercynian bowers; + Happy here, we should while away life’s fleeting hours. + On soft beds of fragrant ferns and roses, + Where the Love god oft reposes, + By the red-winged black-bird’s nest, + Where some tired mortals so long to lie down and rest,-- + Blest companions of the birds and bees,-- + Here, shall not we fall asleep beneath the trees? + Puck and Pan, they may come find us if they can. + Or Fairy Mab, with cunning spying, + Discover the lolling rushes, where we are lying. + But that fretful little hunch-back Ogress Woman,--She, + who ever prates of care and pain,-- + She our hiding place shall seek in vain. + Come, then, thou little rosy regent Prince of Peace and Pleasure, + In fields and woods to-day, we shall squander many hours of joy and + leisure. + + + + +_INTROVERSE RETROSPECTION_ + + + ’Mongst life’s sunny highlands I have strayed, + Shunning Mammon’s vale of shade; + And while wandering I’ve been pondering, + And I feel, + As onward toward the tomb I steal, + That all our worldly toys, and troubles, are unreal. + Riches is a doubtful chattel, + Titles merely childish prattle; + Sorrow is illogical, demoniacal dreaming. + Joy and Hope alone are real--death is only but in seeming. + For gladness, then--for better life we ever should be scheming. + Fame holds forth for us a false, illusionary flower. + Build, Folly! Build thy tower! + Canst thou evade the inevitable hour? + Toil, Pharoah, toil! Thy doom + To build a pyramid--thy tomb! + + + + +_SUNDRY SWEETS_ + + + Oh, oh, how I love to plant the tender tree! + What tho’ it bear no fruits for me? + Its shady boughs, its leafy greenery, + Its balmy, budding youthful gladness + Will cheer me when in age and sadness. + + “Hah, there!” A nice little girl just sauntered by; + I smiled at her, she smiled at me, + And now we both are smiling, don’t you see? + + Whoopla--ha! ha! What a picnic! + A lady just kissed me at the train. + (But it wasn’t meant for me!) + “How strange!” you say, “how very queer?” + (Oh, she mistook me for her hubby dear,) + Who signaled her, and yelled in vain. + Observing tourists thought he’d gone insane. + Yes, I enjoyed it more than he, + That kiss that wasn’t meant for me. + + Now that I’ve made my little fortune, + I have lots of fun,-- + There’s not a thing I miss. + I am so glad, I am so gay; + If Psyche throw my love away, + If I “fall out” with Chloris + I will, I will be merry still. + A smile, a smile,-- + Have I not won a smile, + A smile from charming little Doris? + + + + +_FELICITOUS RETROFLECTIONS_ + + + Tho’ this life may have its many thousand ills + And nameless woes--and the gait or the grind kills-- + Yet with all this, “this life it is most jolly”; + What folly to consort, then, with Care and Melancholy! + + Petty troubles should not grieve thee, + Of thy happy dreams bereave thee. + Faint of heart--cark was a “quitter” ever. + Undaunted cheer kept bravely on! + Stop not to brood o’er failures--never,--never! + Almost defeated “Trojans” have oft the battle won. + + Sharpest thorns among red roses; + Bitter rind sweet fruit encloses, + And a pinching, pestering torment teaches this:-- + Vanquished sorrow adds greater zest to bliss! + + + + +_LITTLE LOVE A-FISHING WENT_ + + + On a hot summer day--alack the day! + Little Love a-fishing went. + To the “river cool,” he took his way, + And there met Beauty gay,--by accident. + + Of knotted twine, Love made a line, + For a hook a pin he bent; + And this “tackle,” he thought fine, + That never cost him a red cent. + + Beside the Platte the gleeful stripling sat, + But when approaching Beauty he espied, + He rose to fly--she snatched his hat; + Then little Love fell down and cried. + + Bold Beauty plucked him from the grass + And held him in her tender arms. + His pouting lips she tried to kiss; + This “added much” to his alarms. + + Ah, would I were that fisher-lad! + Then Beauty gay, might have her way. + What tears of joy would not I shed, + Would she but snatch “my old white hat!” + Would she come kindly, sweetly, kiss my fears away. + + + + +_AT MANITOU_ + + + At Manitou--at delectable Manitou! + Oh, oh, if I only just had a million or two + I would build a cottage--a cottage at Manitou. + + Now in the sunshine, now in the shade, + Smoothly the train slides down the grade. + Plunging into tunnels as black as night, + Out again into the clear sunlight! + Curving around grassy hillsides warm and bright; + High above, a torrent as white as snow, + Dashing and splashing in the gorge below; + Nearing now a ruined fortress old and brown, + A Titian fortress by the demi-gods pulled down. + Passing by gay companies at wayside places, + Maidens and men, and youths’ and children’s faces,-- + And oh, oh, everything is bright, everything is new! + In the beautiful village we are swiftly passing through! + Castles and cottages crowning the cliffs; + Castles and cottages nestling away down in the boulder drifts; + Castles and cottages perched on crags and peeping from splintered + rifts. + Castles and cottages beneath and above,-- + Cosy abodes,--bright as the bowers of love! + Oh, oh, if I only just had a million or two + I surely would build a cottage--a cottage at Manitou. + + + + +_AT DENVER_ + + + At Denver, at sunny Denver town; + At Denver, where the snowy hills look down; + At Denver, where the ladies never frown; + At Denver,--at classic Denver town. + + At Denver, at jolly Denver town. + At Denver,--in the autumn of the year,-- + At Denver, when the merry crowds assemble, and King Carnival draws + near. + At Denver,--at festive Denver town. + + At Denver,---at social Denver town,-- + At Denver, there “the portly parson” smiles and winks, + At Denver,--there the naughty boys take their drinks + And the lithesome lassies dance “high jinks,” + At Denver--at gay, athletic, youthful Denver town. + + At Denver--if you ever go to Denver town + You will surely see the circus and the clown. + You will hear them sweetly rhyme + Of the pleasures of their clime + And they’ll, pretty tolerably nearly, “show you a jolly good time” + At Denver--if you only go to Denver town. + + + + +_TO OUR LADY OF WOE_ + + + Dolores, dear, cease, kindly cease thy moaning; + Thy cares, thy troubles, are thy own. + None, none, will heed thy hollow groaning-- + “Weep, and you weep alone!” + + “Laugh! and the world laughs with you!” + Sorrow none would choose to borrow; + These are maxims old and true, + “Clouds to-day--sunshine to-morrow.” + + Unhappy priestess,--pray be good! + Why, why all these sighs and tears? + Come, learn of Joy and God’s plenitude! + To Bliss, not Grief, belongs thy blooming years. + + + + +_REGRET_ + + + I know that I must die; + This is my one regret. + I hope, of course, to gain immortality, + That is, in “the sweet bye and bye!” + But, oh, to leave this world of cheer and fret, + This is my regret--my great regret. + + Truly I grieve, to pass from earth away, + To realms, perchance, of brighter day. + So glad I am that I have lived and been; + That I have joyed and chafed,--and strived to keep my conscience free + from sin. + Oh, if I could, gladly I would, live life’s wondrous dream of pain and + pleasure o’er--aye! many times o’er again. + + + + +_OF PARADISE, ETC._ + + + Of Paradise ’tis sweet to dream, + And life beside the Elysian stream! + In flowery vales ’mong scenes above, + Why loves the fancy so to rove? + + Why does man so berate the earth? + Are there no shrines for reverence here? + The Mother World that gave him birth + Has always been man’s sport and sneer. + + Is Nature, then, so harsh and cold? + Has she no warmth, no love, no light? + Does she her children cuff and scold? + Are mankind, then, her special spite? + + No, no! Earth loves her human brood! + Earth is a mother kind and good. + ’Tis man alone--inglorious wretch! + Who would his parents’ name besmirch. + + Love, then, the world! Is it not fair? + Could God design a brighter, cosier sphere. + Of clay, of water, wood and air? + Were man but just, what paradise were here! + + + + +_ON IMMORTALITY_ + + + For immortality, all mortals sigh, + Men are not dead, then, when they die? + Fond Hope dispels our mental fears, + Transports the thoughts to happier spheres. + + And yet,--’tho we ceased here in rayless night, + Have we not had our share of light? + Of summer sunshine, cloud and showers, + Bright rainbow tints, bright birds and flowers? + + O’er dearth of years is it not selfishness to grieve? + How much of unawakened clay, + Has yet not had its glimpse of day, + Has yet not felt the thrill of life? + + Anon, anon, when his long race is run, + Will not man gladly rest in his cool tomb? + For other lives we should make room; + Sleep they not best, whose hard life’s work is done? + + + + +_A FELICITOUS MEDICAL PRESCRIPTION_ + + + For human woes, for human ills, + My learned Muse an anodyne distills,-- + A priceless panacea for the sad. + Some balm she has, some extracts of herbs she gathers among the hills, + (Take one small teaspoonful if you’re really feeling bad) + Some tinctures rare she stores, of sweet, medicinal water-flowers,-- + (Warranted to “kill pain” in two hours!) + Some infusions of lotus leaves, fresh plucked from pools in fancy’s + rills + (Oh, what a long-felt want, this “all-curative” fills!) + Just one minim will do you much good;--a gill will make you unusually + glad. + (Only known sure specific for poor human wights gone mad.) + Truly there’s nothing better in Earth’s pharmacies! + Try one “free-trial package” every fortnight if you choose. + A “prize gift box” will flush pale cheeks and brighten saddened eyes; + And enough of the wonderful “stuff” just knocks the socks off of the + blues. + + Sad friend--have hope! have hope! + Don’t fret, don’t fuss, don’t mope; + Just take your dope! Just take your dope! + No good, no good to swear or pine, + (When, Great Scot’s! There’s heaps of virtue in our anti-trouble + pills!) + And zounds--look at the price! That surely should suit fine:-- + “Doc” pays the bills! “Doc” pays the bills! + + + + +_TO THOSE DARK EYES THAT HAUNT ME STILL_ + + + We met--’twas while passing through the crowded street-car door. + We met--for one brief moment her dark eyes gazed into mine. + Oh, what wonderful, beautiful, bewildering brown, black eyes they were! + Large, languorous--“swimming in the stream!” + Seeming to melt to their own beam. + Great lustrous, magnetic orbs, o’erfilled with glints of passion and + with dreams divine! + We met--we gazed--her modest glances fell, then, to meet mine + nevermore. + + We met--we parted--but, oh! those dark, resplendent, dream-eyes they + haunt me still. + Potent influences they hold for good or ill. + Star-lights, that could lead man’s wandering foot-steps safely up the + steeps to Paradise, + Or plunge him downward dazzled to the depths of hell! + Beatific lady! I wonder will for me those peerless lenses ever beam + again! + And, oh (in modesty) have they not beveiled their fires from mine + before? + Descendant of some enchantress, princes, peasant-girl, or queen. + Have not we known each other, long ere this, upon some foreign shore? + In aeons past,--by Time’s wide river drifted far apart,-- + Did we not once dwell happy in a better land? + Reincarnated spirits, are not ours, spirits of lovers oft parted, tho’ + ever loth to part? + Lady--lady--did not we as old-time sweethearts once walk fondly hand in + hand? + + + + +_MY MOTOR-CYCLE GIRL AND I_ + + + My motor-cycle girl and I are a sport-loving pair; + Too speedy for Sorrow, we race away from dull Care; + We startle Deacon Gossip, we shock Madame Trouble, + “Dear, oh, dear, how awful!” they say; “what a very swift couple!” + + We are out late at night,--out again next day! + Do we enjoy life? Well, I should say! + “Are we fond of rapid riding?” Oh yes; indeed! But what is the harm, + Since we hurt nobody, and speed has its charm? + Sometimes, we rest in the park, ’neath the leafy shade; + Do we fret and jaw, and chew the straw, when there ain’t no sweet in + our lemonade? + Yes; well, yes, then to church we go with a right good will, + “Oh, oh, how can they sit there so serene and still?” + Says Trouble to Gossip, “and smile--and smile--and smile,-- + And tremble not, when the minister mentions ----?” Well, well! + Our lives are chaste, and we have no dread, + Of sulphurous caldrons, or ovens red-hot. + We taste no “sour, old apples” that we should not! + In thrifty orchards by the cool wayside, trees are laden with purple + plums and crimson cherries. + Yet oh, oh, yet, for “forbidden fruit” we never do fret, + In our basket for lunch we have cake and sugar and cream and fried + chicken and rich ripe preserved strawberries. + + In the flower-decked meadows, sometimes, we are tempted to stray + But a big notice reads, “Stay out--Keep off the Alfalfa.” + By the sweet green fields, therefore, we fairly fly, + Nay, nay, on the “sacred grass,” we never trespass; + And furthermore, we never get gay, nor sass Farmer Gray, + When we meet him in town, and he offers to sell us some hay! + + And do my girl and I love? Well, now, come, come! Can’t you guess? + If we don’t, of course, of course I’m not to blame, + For she is such a fair, fresh young rosebud you know, + And I am--well, she just calls me--just plain “Uncle Sam,” + But I am--of _course I’m her beau_! + Of a buggy-ride this friend of mine and I are fond, + But the “metalsome steed” is our chief delight. + Adown the road we scurry at a lively rate, + And the slow-going crowd is left behind. + “Caloric individuals,” like we are, they say + “Are liable to get scorched some--some very fine day.” + + But my blithe merry lass and I never hear--we are speeding away! + And little, how little, care we for what rude tattlers say? + With consciences clear as lilies are white. + We heed not the slur of Envy and Spite. + Let cripples and criplets stand aside in dismay; + We will be young when they are decrepit and gray. + Let Troubles and Gossip mistrust us and spy; + We will be angels ere such “saints” learn to fly. + + + + +_DIFFERENCES OF OPINION_ + + + Some men may differ from our creed,-- + Give our good advice small heed. + Some men may not be our way of thinking. + But if they are honest they surely should be frank, + And not behind one’s back, go winking, blinking! + And say, “behold! a crank--there goes a crank!” + Or else hide in a crowd and yell: + “An infidel! An infidel! + A ski-shod pilgrim, coasting blindly down the road to hell.” + + Fellow--churlish fellow, if thou never cans’t be joyous, + Why with constant fretting thus wilfully annoy us? + Does thy sorrow so need company + That thou wouldst meanly pester those who would gladly comfort thee? + How selfish, then--how unkindly such must be + As would wish to force unwilling ones to share with them their + self-imposed misery. + + + + +_IN THE FOREST_ + + + In the leafy fastness of the forest, there are sounds of mirth and + gladness, + Strange wild symphonies that tell of peace and rest, + Dulcet cadences, unlike, unakin unto the noises heard in marts of human + strife and madness, + Vile discords that make existence in life’s crowded hippodromes seem + displeasurable, irreligious and unblest. + + Deep, deep in the shady sanctuaries of the wildwood + Druid lives of old were happily lived and beautiful I find; + What tho’ Nature’s children sometimes seem harsh and rude! + They never really are ungrateful or unkind. + + Deep, deep in the peaceful quiet sylvans, rosebuds fall and fade. + Littering the green-sward o’er whereon I lie, + Yet dreaming still “beneath my bowers, blossom-woven shade” + Blissfully I linger, while the summer days go by. + + + + +_MY SUMMER GIRL AND ME_ + + + Under the green-wood tree + Joyfully, + Rest my summer girl and me. + Fonder, franker pair, hath never been + A-courting here upon the lawn. + Oh, my dear, you look so sweet, + All in lace and satin white, + With that rosebud in your hair, + And those lips that seem to say, + “You may, you may,--nay, nay,--nay, nay,” + “You may kiss me--don’t you dare!” + + Under the green-wood tree + Life is full of witchery. + Listen, then, dissembling girl, to me: + + Come, come, fair one; no more delay. + Come, come, sweetheart, and marry me? + What, what care we for worldly state? + For mansion proud, or titles great? + My humble cot, beside the Platte, + With thee its mistress, well might seem + Fairy May Queen’s bower, and life an Eden dream. + With hope, with health, enough to eat, + Our cup of joy were full indeed. + For having all that makes Earth dear, + How could, how could we wish for more? + Come, then, my love; no more delay; + Name, name, oh, name our wedding day! + + Under the green-wood tree + Soon married we shall be, + My dainty summer girl and me. + + + + +_A REQUIEM_ + + + To-day--alas, to-day, there’s a tear in my eye, + And deep at my heart there’s a pain. + With a sob and a sigh the winds hurry by, + They are singing, singing a sad refrain. + “Nay, nay,” they seem to sing, they seem to say, + “Nay, nay, we shall never meet Mabel again.” + + Nay, nay, we shall never meet Mabel again. + Too gentle and fair, for this rude world of jostle and care; + Too kind-hearted and good, for this hard life of trouble and pain, + So the angels, they have taken Mabel away, + But ’tis sweet, it still is sweet to think that some day, + In that “beautiful city Up There,” + Maybe we shall meet our dear little friend Mabel again. + + Yet to-day,--oh, to-day, there’s a tear in each eye, + And deep at each heart there’s a pain; + Through the over-cast sky, dark trailing clouds hurry by, + And it looks like rain. + While the winds are singing,--still singing that sad refrain. + “Nay, nay,” they seem to sing, they seem to say: + “Nay, nay, we shall never meet Mabel again.” + + + + +_FAREWELL!--I AM STILL CAMPING!_ + + +My dear tourist friend--farewell! Farewell perhaps forever. Farewell! +I am still camping! In the cool shade of the cottonwoods beside the +Platte, I am camping. I who erstwhile in careless youth’s hilarious +days, a handsome book of verse and prose did write and print, a book +that has neither brought me fame nor fortune as yet; nay, nay, and it +never will. + +Ha, ha, ha! Yes, I am still camping. In delightful tranquility and in +the generous shelter of the tall timber close down by the clear blue +water’s side, my humble little abode is still standing. Its dingy +white-washed walls may yet be seen peeping out pleasingly from among +the thick green leaves of the patriarchal trees of the forest. + +Yes, yes; I am still camping. Pegasus, my “broncho plug” (my vaunted +poet’s steed!), has long since been turned loose to browse on the +luxurious sage-brush, and the crisp buffalo-grass of the Great Plains. +Genevieve, my docile cow, too, has strayed away, or else she has been +stolen, which I know not, neither do I care, as I am in the “stock +business” no longer. + +To-day, to-day, just as of yore; seated still on the same old +log,--silently--silently, still, I am angling in the Platte. Angling +still for “suckers” in the eddying tide, but alas! alas! they do not +bite. They seem to realize perfectly, clearly, that I have been along +this way before. They seem, metaphorically, to say, “No, sir, no; we +respectfully decline your book-worm-bait, and your cunningly contrived +fly-productions.” + +Yea, yea; it is the same old story--“a fisherman’s luck! A fisherman’s +luck!” Yet, nevertheless, I am ever hopeful and content to wait. God’s +good will will be done, no doubt in his own good time. This is my +consolation. “Nor cease I yet to wander where the Muses haunt--clear +brook and shady rill.” Green bank and blue, unclouded sky. Quiet grove +and breezy hill. Fresh flowers and the songs of birds. These all +make musical and brighten still my dreams, and gladden likewise my +long-expectant eye. + +But farewell, my dear tourist friend---farewell, perhaps forever! And +when back again unto “orient realms” thou shalt soon have returned,-- + + “Just tell them that you saw me while out West, + Just mention that I’m camping,--they will surely know the rest!” + + + + +SUPPLEMENTARY + + + + +_NEW GLAD VOICES_ + + + To-day--to-day--the birds again are singing and rejoicing, + Nature’s great heart, once more, with pleasure thrills; + Mortals--mortals--we to our gladness should be voicing. + Not brooding o’er life’s griefs and ills. + + Has not the world had enough of sorrow? + Is not the world yet done with tears? + Joy _to-day_--if thou wouldst joy to-morrow, + Away with care--away with frets and fears. + + + + +_MAY-DAY BESIDE THE PLATTE_ + + +To-day--to-day! It is sweet May-day again beside the Platte. The +cottonwoods are putting forth their green. The wild, red-roses and +the white plum-blossoms scent the air. The lark is in the fields; +the robin’s cheery voice is heard. The golden flecker and the oriole +make music in the woods. The dove’s low cooing woos the murmur of +the streams, and the merry blackbirds chant amid the wild, sweet +meadow-grass, and starry-eyed asclepia blooms. + +The vast, green prairie spreads around. Its boundless lawns are sweet +with flowers. The “bonny-bells” and “yellow eyes” have decked the +sunny slopes with gold. The round, green hills are gay with dandelions +and daisies. The sweet blue-flags, the “yuccas” and the “artemisias” +brighten everywhere. + +Northward, amid his banks of bloom and graceful curves, the “silver +river” glides. Westward, a dozen miles beyond, the stream, and, looming +over all in grand relief, appears the old, shining Rocky Mountains, +the snowy range towering amid the storm-clouds, and the purple +foot-hills, like the Titan forms of old among the shattered fortresses +of vanquished gods! + +Dreamer, you are in Colorado--you stand upon the banks of the Platte. +The great, wild prairie stretches all around us. Its smooth, green +lawns are bright with silver brooks and crystal lakes. Hundreds of wild +fowl disport upon the water’s blue, unrippled bosom. Long strings of +cattle come forth to drink--others graze in droves among the low, round +hills near by. How beautiful! how bright! how grassy wild! how fair and +sweet! + +Dreamer, does not your heart grow glad? This is a land for rest and +holiday! You hear the hum of golden bees. You feel the soft flow of the +air. The sky is clear and blue and bright. The fields are green and +dry and warm. The woods are beryl-hued and full of singing birds. High +above you, snowy mountains tower--“Long” and “Lincoln” prop the sky. +You behold Pike’s Peak further south--its blue sides terminating in a +crown of snow. + +My name is Brown--Sam Brown. I was born under the shadow, as it were, +of these grand old Rocky Mountains. Thirty years ago, when all this +vast region of plains and mountains, extending from the Mississippi +River on the east to the shores of the Pacific Ocean on the west, to +the Mexican Gulf on the south, and to the British possessions on the +north, was an almost unexplored wilderness, filled with wild beasts and +hostile Indians, my father and mother crossed the plains in a “prairie +schooner,” drawn by a yoke of oxen. They came west early in ’59, with +the first rush of those hardy gold seekers whose motto was “Pike’s Peak +or Bust!” + +Finding mining unprofitable they settled down to farming and +stock-raising near the base of the mountains. Here to them four sons +were born--of whom I am the eldest, having been born on March 21, 1860. +I am a Colorado pioneer--yes, born of a pioneer ancestry--and it is +with a sense of pride that I point out to you the fact. I also take a +kind of grim pleasure in informing you that my earlier life was spent +in the free and easy pursuits of a cowboy, and that my first childhood +playmates were the red Indians of whose boundless liberty I used to +feel very envious during my school days. + +Many incidents which occurred away back in the “sixties,” when we white +settlers used to have to fortify ourselves at Denver, to avoid being +scalped by the Arapahoes and Cheyennes, are still fresh in my memory. + +Denver, which is now a city of nearly 200,000 inhabitants, was in +those days but a mere hamlet of several dozen shanties, standing +almost entirely on the west bank of Cherry Creek. What a change has +taken place about my home within the space of but a few brief years! +On the little plateau where Fort Logan stands to-day, I shot my first +“prong-horn,” and oftentimes I have played ball with Willie Bates and +Jimmy Steck on the grounds now occupied by our State’s capitol and +County’s court-house. + +All of those dry uplands, where I used to pasture my cows, are +now covered in season with wavy fields of wheat, maize and +alfalfa--meadows, orchards and blooming garden plats. Where the Indian +wigwam smoked but a few brief summers gone by, lordly mansions and +pleasant homes are standing to-day. But the humble structure in which +I was born has not been torn down yet. It stands on the west bank of +the Platte River, near Littleton, and in Denver’s beautiful suburb, +Wynetka. My parents, who still live at the old homestead, but now in +a large and comfortable farm-house, have preserved the little old log +cabin as a relic of bygone days.--_Written Jan. 20, 1890._ + + + + +_MY NATIVE LAKES_ + + +Of those silent pools, far remote in that wild Western land--the land +of my nativity--I am dreaming to-day. + +Away out there, where the old, shining Rocky Mountains seem to reach +off to the ends of the world, where the great plains stretch away +in boundless undulations of wavy greenery, as far as the eye can +see--there Colorado’s lakes rest in eternal calm. + +In other times--bright boyhood days, now forever flown--mounted on +a shaggy broncho, with gun in hand, and followed by a long-legged, +one-eyed hound, I have often driven my cattle there to drink. Again, +in light canoe, with double-bladed oar, I have glided for hours along +the scarcely rippled tide, chasing the diver-ducks and the blue coots +so tame, or trying random shots at the mallard-ducks and wary teal that +flew nearly out of range, high up overhead. Now and then a lucky shot +would bring me down a great white pelican or a blue crane. Yet more +often I would kill a brant or a Canadian goose. + +Beyond the lake a tiny cascade could be seen, pouring down its silvery +flood from the lofty, snow-capped heights above. At the mountain’s foot +the foamy tide fell into a little pool, and there, after forming itself +into a little brook, it ran off flashing in the sunlight, across green +meadows, beside leafy groves, and along flowery banks, until at last +it found its way down to the great, blue, laughing lake, where it lost +itself in the silent tide. + +At the mouth of the stream, and just beside the wood, stood an Indian +village--the white tepees of which could be plainly seen, peeping out +from among the green glades and leaves of the trees. The red Indian, +too, was often in sight, for he loved to loiter along those pleasant +shores. Many times have I met him angling patiently along the banks of +the small stream. At other times I have watched him for hours chasing +the wild herds of the plain. The fallow-deer, the “prong-horn,” the +bison and the elk he called his “cattle,” and he claimed them as his +own. + +His was a happy, careless life--as aimless and as dreamy as my own. +Nature supplied his every want. His orchards were the thickets of +cherries and wild-plums. His harvests of golden grain were the fields +of yellow sun-flowers. His gardens were the untilled fields, and there +his vegetables grew. The roots and bulbs he knew supplied his pottage. +Honey was stored for him by the wild bees, and the beasts of the field +gave him their furry coats to keep him warm. His dusky mate was an easy +love, and she always treated him with kindness. His life was one of +sportive ease, and I have often envied him his happy lot. + +It was an indescribable joy to me in those old days to stroll along +the white-pebbled beach of the lake and gather shells. I also loved to +roam among the green, round hills near by and gaze out across the calm +blue lake, or let my glances wander afar off up those shining straits, +channeled out, as they are, like mighty gateways among the cliffs +and crags of the ancient hills. Far away they would widen out again +into broad lakes, or else they would wander off and lose themselves +in narrow straits among the splintered crags and snow-capped peaks of +the not distant mountains. Often, as I would sit gazing up into those +mystic gulfs and weird canons, stretching far away among the hills, I +would fancy in my childish innocence that I could catch glimpses of +another world which lay dimly visible in the “far beyond.” I had hopes +of being able, some day, to propel my little bull-hide boat into that +wonderful realm of the “great unknown.” The long lines of “sand hill” +cranes, the sharp phalanx of white geese, the flutter of swans’ wings, +circling away across the distant marsh lands, appeared as the flash of +angel wings. To me they seemed as the spirits of the blest, circling +through celestial skies or hovering above the shores of Paradise. + + + + +_THOSE ARE THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS_ + + +“Those are the Rocky Mountains”--yes, those long, blue lines of +cordilleras just above you are the foot-hills, and those tall, white +peaks standing afar off beyond, and appearing ethereal and ghost-like +in the dim distance, are the ice-clad summits of the “snowy-range.” + +“Those are the Rocky Mountains”--yes, and _these_ are the great plains. +Oh, what a beautiful, green, wild world this is! How can one live in +such a land and not be glad! It is a day of God, and the wild herds +of the plain are grazing all around us. They range in droves among +the low, round hills near by, or lick “alike” in the deep, basin-like +valleys below, where often we catch the shimmer of some fairy lake. + +“Those are the Rocky Mountains”--yes, and as we ride along, across +the smooth, white plain, with the warm sunlight streaming down from a +cloudless heaven upon us--streaming down through an atmosphere as clear +as glass--as sparkling and as buoyant as any air upon the earth--as we +ride along, gazing out across the great, green world and up at the blue +sky, and then upon those stupendous peaks and everlasting snow-clad +hills, my spirit thrills with a deep delight, and I feel a something, +stranger, that you know not of. + +“Those are the Rocky Mountains”--yes, and oh! I was born, as it were, +under the very shadow of their snow-covered heads. While yet a baby in +my mother’s arms I first gazed out upon those everlasting hills. + +While yet a little child I used to draw mountains upon my slate. Rude +sketches they were, no doubt, but how could I live and love, and +yet not limn that which so much I loved? I knew not then of poet or +painter’s art, nor ever dreamed that I myself should rhyme some day, +and paint and write and limn with words, and tell men of my childhood’s +dreams. + +In boyhood days how often have I lain upon the mossy river brim and +gazed out, through the vistas of the leafy trees, up at those blue, +bright, snow-capped peaks beyond! How often, among the warm, green +meadow grass, gay with May-flowers, have I wallowed just below those +rocky heights! How often, in those glad young days, have I longed to +climb those dizzy cliffs and crags and towers, or to rove among those +caves and rifts and dells and canons deep, to prospect there for gold +and gems and fruits and blossoms rare! Oh, how I longed to cross over +the range, as other boys and bearded men had done! It was there that +the Indians located their “Happy Hunting Grounds,” or the “Regions of +the Blest.” Over there they said it was that the good Indians went +after death. I had also heard men tell of California--“a delightful, +warm country,” they said, “where it is always summer, and where fruits +and flowers are plentiful and can always be had just for the picking.” +They said that a great, wide, blue sea, called the Pacific Ocean, +rippled along the coast of that green, warm land, and that the beach +of the sea was strewn with many-colored and richly-tinted shells. How +I longed to visit that glorious sunset land, just over the range, but +in my childish innocence I imagined it must be an almost life-long and +herculean task to surmount those stupendous and lofty heights where +the snows of centuries lay piled up in great banks and drifts hundreds +of feet in depth. I also fancied that I could sometimes see the forms +of giant warriors stalking about among those wild crags and cliffs. +In my belief they were the guardian watchers of those “Happy Hunting +Grounds” of the Indians. I regarded them as sentries stationed along +the outposts of that blessed place, whose duty it was to turn back all +adventurous travelers whom they might catch attempting to enter that +terrestrial paradise of the great, wild West. + +One day, while my father, my mother, my brothers and myself were on +a plumming and raspberrying excursion, my father made a remark that +awoke a new superstition within my soul. My mother was driving our +wagon, which was drawn by a yoke of gentle oxen, through the level of +a beautiful vale, surrounded by lofty peaks, when my father, looking +up, said to me in a mysterious kind of way, “My son, the Genus of the +hills is looking down with wonder, for lo, behold, yonder is Madam +Progress driving by in her ox-propeller car.” Ever after that I had a +superstitious dread of this same Genus of the hills, and it was not +until long years afterward, when the dry learning and colorless truths +of youth had begun to dispel the flowery fancies, poetical fictions and +glorious myths of my childhood, that I dared to explore or venture far +into those same Genus-haunted hills.--_From May Day Dreams, published +1890._ + + +FINIS. + + + + +_The price of_ HAPPY DAYS _in cloth is $1, prepaid. Copies may be had +by addressing The Reed Publishing Company, 1756 Champa Street, Denver, +Colo. Remit by express or post-office money order, bank draft or +registered letter._ + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber’s note + + +Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice. Hyphenation +has been standardized. + +Spelling was retained as in the original except for the following +changes: + + Page iv: “Premit, therefore, this” “Permit, therefore, this” + Page ix: “felicitious, although” “felicitous, although” + Page 48: “God’s debator and ye” “God’s debater and ye” + Page 48: “Listern, ye doubting” “Listen, ye doubting” + Page 69: “a cottag Manitou” “a cottage at Manitou” + Page 87: “patriarchial trees of the” “patriarchal trees of the” + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76651 *** diff --git a/76651-h/76651-h.htm b/76651-h/76651-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9c2c0ac --- /dev/null +++ b/76651-h/76651-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3029 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Happy Days carolings of Colorado, etc. | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + 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.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, +table.autotable th { padding: 0.25em; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} +.tdc {text-align: center;} + +.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;} + +figcaption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +/* 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;} + +.author { + text-align: right; + margin-right: 20% + } + +.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;} + + +/* Poetry indents */ +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3.0em;} +.poetry .indent2 {text-indent: -2.0em;} +.poetry .indent4 {text-indent: -1.0em;} +.poetry .indent6 {text-indent: 0.0em;} +.poetry .indent8 {text-indent: 1.0em;} + + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowp52 {width: 52%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp52 {width: 100%;} +.illowp62 {width: 62%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp62 {width: 100%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76651 ***</div> + + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_frontis"></a> </span></p> +<figure class="figcenter illowp52" id="frontis" style="max-width: 50.0em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/frontis.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <i>Samuel R Brown</i> + </figcaption> +</figure> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"> + + +<h1> +Happy Days</h1> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp62" id="titlepage" style="max-width: 50.0em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/titlepage.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + Carolings of<br> + Colorado, Etc.<br> + <br> + By<br> + <br> + Sam Brown<br> + <br> + Author of<br> + “May-Day Dreams,”<br> + etc. + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p class="ph3">DENVER, COLORADO</p> +<p class="ph2">THE REED PUBLISHING COMPANY</p> +<p class="ph4">Nineteen Hundred and Four +</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"> + +<p class="ph4"> +Copyright, 1904</p> +<p class="ph3">By SAMUEL R. BROWN</p> +<br> +<br> +<p class="ph4">PRESS OF</p> +<p class="ph3">The Reed Publishing Company</p> +<p class="ph4">DENVER</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"> +<p class="ph3"> +Dedicated<br> +<br> +WITH KINDEST REGARDS, TO<br> +OUR GENTLE, SAD-FACED<br> +TOURIST SUMMER-GUEST +</p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</span></p> +<div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak" id="PUBLISHERS_ANNOUNCEMENT"><i>PUBLISHERS’ ANNOUNCEMENT</i></h2></div> + + +<p><i>As in subsequent pages of this little work +its author has had so much to say regarding +himself and the land of his +nativity, we deem it but proper that he and the +reader should be made more fully acquainted +here at the outset. Permit, therefore, this +brief biographical sketch. Born in the sunny +valley of the South Platte, near the present +site of the Queen City of the Plains (Denver), +the author is of course a native of the Centennial +State (Colorado).</i></p> + +<p><i>In the days of his boyhood the wooly bison +and the prong-horned antelope still ranged in +countless droves upon the Great Plains, and +the antlered elk and the mule deer, among the +airy table-lands and in the more-sequestered, +grassy forest-glades of the Rocky Mountains, +were most plentiful indeed. The little red +Indian papooses were his earliest childhood +playmates, and the “big braves,” Cheyenne +Charley, the Arapahoe chief, Black Kettle, +and the fat old Ute, Colorow, are still well remembered +by him. The long lines of freight +and emigrant wagons; the “Overland stage +coaches,” the ox and mule teams, the various +motley crowds of old-time denizens of those +then “first days” of stir and change, of sanguine +strife and hardy enterprise, were all +familiar objects of his youthful vision.</i></p> + +<p><i>Being reared thus, amidst wild and savage +life, and born a native of a then savage wild-land, +his poetic efforts of these later happier +days will no doubt prove of especial interest +to the people of the middle Great West and +the Rocky Mountain region generally.</i></p> + +<p class="author"> +<span class="smcap">The Publishers.</span> +</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Contents">Contents</h2></div> + + + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Portrait and Autograph of the Author</td> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#frontis">Frontispiece</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Publishers’ Announcement</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_iv">4</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Prefatory</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_ix">9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdr"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdc"><i>POEMS</i></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">A Happy Loiterer</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Angling in the Platte</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Autumnal Sports</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">At My Little Cabin Home</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">At Littleton—“In the Good Old Summer Time”</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">At Englewood on an Afternoon in May</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">At Manitou</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">At Denver</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">A Felicitous Medical Prescription</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">A Requiem</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Be Joyous, Be Gentle, Worthy, Kind</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Beautiful Colorado</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Colorado Skies</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Down Among the Grasses</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Differences of Opinion</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Felicitous Retroflections</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Greetings to Gladness</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">In the Wild Wild-Woods To-day</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">I’ll Sing Some Songs for Fame To-night</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Introverse Retrospection</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">In the Forest</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_83">83</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">King Mammon</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Live Merrily</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">“Lo Que Es El Mundi”</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Little Love A-Fishing Went</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Maid of Denver, Are You Camping?</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Maid of Denver, Take My Arm</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">My Colorado</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">My Motor-Cycle Girl and I</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">My Summer Girl and Me</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">New Glad Voices</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Of Paradise, Etc.</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">On Immortality</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Poet, May I Pail Your Cow?</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Pot-Hunting Beside the Platte</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Recuperating in Nature’s Sanitarium</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Regret</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Seeking Our Two Little Brown Boys</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Sundry Sweets</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Supplementary</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">To Ye Cheerless Hermit</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">The Antelope Hunt</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">To Walter Whitman</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">To Ye Worthy Sailor Man</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Tears</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">To Our Little Joy-Prince—Cherub Delight</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">To Our Lady of Woe</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">To Those Dark Eyes that Haunt Me Still</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Wild-Woodland Ramblings</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Was Man Made to Mourn?</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_25">25</a><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdc"><i>PROSE SKETCHES</i></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Farewell!—I Am Still Camping</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">May-Day Beside the Platte</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">My Native Lakes</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"></td> +<td class="tdl"></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Those Are the Rocky Mountains</td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_viii"></a>[Pg viii]</span></p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_ix"></a>[Pg ix]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="PREFATORY"><i>PREFATORY</i></h2></div> + + +<p>My dear unexacting, much-forgiving reader—lover +of rural-songs and of rural singers: Now, since +having spent many happy days in the health-gaining +pursuit after the fleet-winged goddess Pleasure, +and in camping on the trail of the scarcely +less inconstant muse, among Colorado’s grassy, grove-filled +valleys, arid plains, and lofty, snow-capped +mountains, with the sad-faced “tourist friend” sometimes, +and sometimes with some others, for the writer’s +camp-fire side companions, and having found life good +and Nature joyous, and as “There is more or less poetry +about the souls of all men”—(and some women also, +perhaps!) it is not strange, therefore, (is it?) that the +author of this unpretentious little book has fallen, half-unconsciously, +as it were, into hymning joy-notes to +Nature and to disconsolate humanity (presumably!) +likewise.</p> + +<p>Now, trusting, therefore, that a more lengthy retrospection +will not be necessary to sufficiently apologize for +our unpremeditated literary transgressions, our impromptu +sentimental love-ditties, etc., we therefore, with best +wishes to all and with malice to none, and with the reader’s +kind permission, will accordingly without further +delay or comment, proceed to the final rehearsal of our +felicitous, although evidently artless, minstrelsy.</p> + +<p class="author"> +<span class="smcap">The Author.</span> +</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_x"></a>[Pg x]</span></p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xi"></a>[Pg xi]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="HAPPY_DAYS">HAPPY DAYS +<br> +CAROLINGS OF COLORADO +ETC.</h2></div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg xii]</span></p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xii"></a><a id="Page_13"></a>[Pg 13]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="GREETINGS_TO_GLADNESS"><i>GREETINGS TO GLADNESS</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Come, Bliss. Who likes a fretting child?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">It is the mirthful spright we love.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">On Joy, propitious gods have smiled.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">No worthier cherub dwells above.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">In laughing eyes we lingering gaze;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">There’s beauty in a happy face!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">If Gladness lacked in classic mould</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Were not his charms yet manifold?</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Come, Spirit, then—come, social Cheer.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">We crave diversion and delight.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With thy sweet smiles dry Sorrow’s tear;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Bright angels’ visits make our lives more bright.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="LIVE_MERRILY"><i>LIVE MERRILY</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Why pensive, mortals? Why still? Why sad?</div> +<div class="verse indent4">Cheer up, dear fellows, and be glad.</div> +<div class="verse indent4">Live merrily—live while you may,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Gaily, gaily tripping along life’s way,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Waste not—dejectedly brooding—waste not these few brief, fleeting hours,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">After death, as after night, dawns the brighter, fairer day.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Be happy, then, be thankful, grateful as the conscious, smiling flowers.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Have hope, have faith, have charity;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Trust to inherit immortality.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At Pleasure’s fount dip deep;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In its pure, ecstatic tide thy troubles steep.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Grave saint—if righteous souls shall joyous live again</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Why should we sorrow here? Why vainly foster care and pain?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Nay, nay, most happy presence, acquainted best with joy and love</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Are those best fitted, sir, for life—for sacred, hallowed life above.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="COLORADO_SKIES"><i>COLORADO SKIES</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Colorado skies! Colorado skies!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh, what a depth of color in them lies!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">How bright to-day—how azure are Colorado skies!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Colorado skies! Colorado’s lustrous skies!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In those clear wells above,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Where the unimpaired optic never tires to rove,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Behold! two sable eagles—their wheeling flights pursue,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The only fleeting shadows in those arching vaults of blue.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Colorado skies! Colorado’s peerless skies!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh, what sweet dreams, what joyous hopes arise,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To all who cast their destinies beneath Colorado’s wondrous skies.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Colorado skies! Colorado’s splendid skies!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At dawn, when swift the curling mists arise;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">When crimson-colored flame, the orient horizon o’erspreads,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And shy day-nymphs awake from slumber on their golden beds,</div></div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent2">’Tis then that smiling Fortune, lavishly rewards the bold emprise</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Of those who wisely early rise beneath Colorado’s matchless skies.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Colorado skies! Colorado’s glorious skies!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">No lowering clouds—no lingering mists arise.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">How bright to-day—how propitious are Colorado’s skies.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="WILD-WOODLAND_RAMBLINGS"><i>WILD-WOODLAND RAMBLINGS</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Down—adown among the green, wild-woodland alleys,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And across the sweet valleys,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Through forests of spruce trees and pine;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With the birds, and the beasts, and the flowers for my allies</div> +<div class="verse indent2">I rove—oh I rove, with “The Spirit Divine.”</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Down, deep down in the wild rocky canons;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Up, high up on the cool sterile plateau’s above,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Joy, Joy and Hope are still my companions,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">For, oh, for, oh, I am charmed and elated wherever I rove.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Down, then—down through the green leafy alleys,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And across the sweet valleys</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Deeper, deeper still into forests of aspens and pine;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Thus, thus ’mongst tall, shady groves I am daily making new sallies,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">For, oh, for oh, the much-roving spirits of gladness and of song-singing madness are mine.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="DOWN_AMONG_THE_GRASSES"><i>DOWN AMONG THE GRASSES</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Down—adown among the tall green grasses</div> +<div class="verse indent2">By the spring-fed pool,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Where the flowers nod and beckon in the wind that passes—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Nod and beckon like sweet little lassies</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Like fair little Hellenic lassies, (glancing with their bright eyes)</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Like fair little Hellenic lassies, just turned loose from their classical classes</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Like glad little Grecian children just a-coming home from school.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">And the dragon-flies in their bright cuirasses</div> +<div class="verse indent2">And the crickets that chirrup by rule,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And the clouds floating by in great, white, cumulous masses,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And the small, glad voices, and the flowers and the grasses,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">And the sky and the clouds mirrored way down in the pool,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Makes one dream of the old song-sacred Parnassus,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">And of the nymph-haunted Hippocrene cool.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">And we sigh for the poet’s winged-steed Pegasus</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Just to soar away up high!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just to scale those wild aerial passes,</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span><div class="verse indent0">Just to rise above those great, white, cumulous, cloud masses,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">And to plunge and tumble down the blue vaults of the sky.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Away up above us—in those splendid cloud-cities!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">With their portals of gold and their turrets so fair,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">We seem to hear angels a-piping their wonderful ditties,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">And we long to be there—oh, we long to be there.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">White Wings! White Wings! Come bear us away,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Come bear us away, o’er river, o’er mountain and plain.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh, bear us away to that land of tall palms and green sassafrasses,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">And then—oh, then, bear us back here to this wild, sweet, pretty valley again.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="IN_THE_WILD_WILD-WOODS_TO-DAY"><i>IN THE WILD WILD-WOODS TO-DAY</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Away—far away—in the wild wild-woods to-day!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Underneath the spreading, cool, green boughs sitting,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Nesting birds above us flitting,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Seem to sing—seem to say:</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Mortals sad, be good, be good—be glad—be gay!”</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Little hearts full of glee,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Happy as happy can be;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In the wavy bushes seen,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In the tall, tufted tree-tops between,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Singing, singing merrily,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Singing, singing—seem to say:</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Mortals sad, be good, be good—be glad to-day!”</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="ILL_SING_SOME_SONGS_FOR_FAME"><i>I’LL SING SOME SONGS FOR FAME +TO-NIGHT</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Respected fellow traveler, ’tho I can carol like a bird</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Dame Fame my voice has never heard.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Hear, then, congenial tourist, comrade with delight—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I’ll sing some songs for Fame to-night.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Fame oft has heard the wail of Sadness;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Fame knows the lay of Trouble well,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Then I will sing for her the songs of gladness,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">For her, for her, the tale of Joy I’ll tell.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="MAID_OF_DENVER_ARE_YOU_CAMPING"><i>MAID OF DENVER, ARE YOU CAMPING?</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent4"><i>He</i>:</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Maid of Denver, are you camping?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">In my field your mules are tramping.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Please, Miss, do not think me rude;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">’Tis not my intention to intrude.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just this morn I saw your fire—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Thought I’d step down and inquire.”</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent4"><i>She</i>:</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Yes, sir; yes, sir; we are camping;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">That’s our tent, there, in the willows.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Pa and Ma are fishing, I suppose:</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Too bad, too bad, our team is tramping</div> +<div class="verse indent2">In your meadow green and wide.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But, sir, oh, if you will kindly help me chase them out, sir,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">My folks, henceforth, no doubt, sir,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Will be good enough to keep them tied.”</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent4"><i>He</i>:</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Maid of Denver, let them stay—let them stray;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">They won’t hurt my clover—never, nay.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Happy creatures! Watch them race and leap!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Romp and roll, wallow in my herd’s grass—lush and deep!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Off! ye saucy rogues! Away, away! go frisk and play;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">(They won’t harm my <i>trifolium incarnatum</i>, no, never—never, nay!)”</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="MAID_OF_DENVER_TAKE_MY_ARM"><i>MAID OF DENVER, TAKE MY ARM</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Maid of Denver, take my arm;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Stroll with me, about my farm.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Trustier guide you’ll never know.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">No, no, Maid of Denver, don’t say no!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Come, merry lass, come skip with me across the green;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Climb up steep heights where foot hath never been.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just back of Frank Mann’s, on the rocks,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Watch Massey’s shepherds tend their flocks.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Or would you rather rove cool hills between?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Exploring, mayhap, many a sylvan scene?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Or nay—no—you wisely choose beneath tall trees,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To just sit here, and sweetly take your ease.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Then, Maid of Denver, here’s my hand!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Share, oh kindly share with me my land.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Fonder “hubby” you will never know,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">No, no, my pretty maid, my city maid, I love, I love you so.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="POET_MAY_I_PAIL_YOUR_COW"><i>“POET, MAY I PAIL YOUR COW?”</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent6"><i>She</i>:</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Poet—pastoral poet—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Poet, don’t you know it?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Poet, please, sir, may I now?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Poet, I would dearly love to pail your cow!”</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent6"><i>He</i>:</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Maid of Denver, then you may;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I will bait her with some hay.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">So, boss—so, there, now!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">So,—so—you blamed old cow!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">“Just watch her kick-up, like a steer;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Race away in mad career;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But I can catch her; oh, yes, dear—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Snare her with my lariat</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Snub her, stretch her out,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Tie her horns and tie her feet,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">She may bellow, she may fret.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">We shall pail her. Conquer her? Oh dear, yes, you bet!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">“Maid of Denver, try her now;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">She is humbled—s’drat that cow!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Did she cavort like a steer?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Bellow loudly in your ear?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">She did; yes, she did. But shall we pail her?”</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent6"><i>She</i>:</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Well, no, nay—not just now, poet, dear.”</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="WAS_MAN_MADE_TO_MOURN"><i>WAS MAN MADE TO MOURN?</i> +</h2></div> +<p class="ph4"> +“Man was made to mourn.”</p> + + +<p class="ph4"> +—Robert Burns. +</p> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">From Eden barred, abased, forlorn</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Man, some mortals say, was made to mourn.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">(Some even think his wicked soul should burn!)</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Of “sin original,” inoculated at the first,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">His “scapegoat” race they hold accursed.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">For Adam’s fault they’d make his offspring’s sweat,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">For Eve’s one error do hateful penance yet.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Such silly cant—such canters—I could spurn!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Nay, nay, man was not made to mourn.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Joy, joy, presided at our birth;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Heaven sent great gladness upon earth.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Nature triumphed on our natal morn.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Creation thrilled when man was born!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Nay, nay; man was not made to mourn!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Discard that old familiar saw.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">It is a rusty relic, dull and worn,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">A heathen tool with many a flaw.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Nay, nay, it is a duty to be good;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">It is religious to be glad!</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span><div class="verse indent0">O’er wrongs, o’er losses, wherefore brood?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">’Tis wicked—sinful—to be sad!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Nay, nay; man was not made to mourn;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">From Grief (that vile old sorceress) let us turn,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At Pleasure’s shrine, far holier, happier lessons, we shall learn.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_HAPPY_LOITERER"><i>A HAPPY LOITERER</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Beneath our blue Colorado skies,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Where tall mountains gladden eyes,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Here I seek the care-free muse</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Till life’s burdens all I lose.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Far away from Sorrow’s brood,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">How I love serene, sweet Solitude!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">What to me is worldling’s strife,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">While I lead this placid, unobtrusive life?</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Men or crosses, men of rules,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Teach me not in Trouble’s schools.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Wilful truant, I would lie</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Listening to the wild-bird’s melody.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">In my forest by the stream</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Let me worship, let me dream,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Loving Nature and her ways,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I would court her all my days.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="ANGLING_IN_THE_PLATTE"><i>ANGLING IN THE PLATTE</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">On a log beside the Platte,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With my tackle and my basket,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sitting where I long have sat,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I am fishing! Should you ask it?</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Idling,—dreaming time away!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Thinking many happy thoughts to-day.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Fleeting moments never heeding,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">While the hungry fishes feeding,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Still I watch and still I wait;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Let the minnows steal my bait!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Mine—mine is the pleasure and repose—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That the never-fretting, catch-forgetting, gladness netting angler only knows.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Tired worker—up! away!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Leave thy labors for a day.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At the river life is sweet;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At the river we shall meet.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Rest and play! Rejoice and be gay!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Recreation has its season.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Put thy cark and care away,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">(Death from over-work to-day is clearly out of reason!)</div></div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Comrade,—cheerless comrade, break thy bondage and be free;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Nature’s self will welcome thee;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Countless blessings she can give,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Come with nature, then, and live.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Nodding, nodding, napping by the brook,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With no bait upon my hook;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Dreaming dreams of summer sweet.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">While the ripples kiss my feet.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">While the wind blows through my hair,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Know I not an earthly care.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh, the restful, rapturous repose</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That the care-dispelling, mirth-compelling, sometimes story-telling, always joyful angler only knows.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">On a log beside the Platte,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">With my tackle and my basket,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sitting where I long have sat;—</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Am I fishing?—can you—really can you ask it?</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="TO_YE_CHEERLESS_HERMIT"><i>TO YE CHEERLESS HERMIT</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Arise! thou melancholy recluse—arise! Leave thy cell!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Turn not thy days to night.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Vile beasts and bats in darkness dwell;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">For us, God made the light.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">For us, the sunshine and the flowers;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">For us, the birds, the bees,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The leafy trees, the odorous bowers;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">And all our wants, God planned to please.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Come, then, come out into the day!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Look up! Choke down thy silly grief;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Fling all thy cark and care away;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Rejoice! Help Nature sing her psalm of life.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Gloomy scholar, drop that skull!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Ghoulish research there is vain;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Studies such are void and null;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">From Pleasure learn the cure of pain!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Be glad! <i>Thy joy may cheer another!</i></div> +<div class="verse indent2">Weep not. (<i>Grief wounds not self alone!</i>)</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Heap not thy sorrows on thy brother;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Old Misery’s sighs would e’en make angels groan!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Apostle of Woe, thy faith’s a fable;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Try schemes of sorrow ill.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Joy and Hope are props more stable;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Merry, men may be, and righteous, too, who will.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="RECUPERATING_IN_NATURES_SANITARIUM"><i>RECUPERATING IN NATURE’S SANITARIUM</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Disconsolate friend, if truly sore-distressed thou art by care and pain,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Plunge, then, with me into the deep, continuous woods.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Health there, and hope, to thee will come again;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Untroubled there we both may well indulge our favorite, loftier moods.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Remote,—afar from dust and din of crowded cities,—</div> +<div class="verse indent2">By waters cool, how sweet! how delectable! to spend one’s leisure time!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To listening hills, I there will croon my artless ditties</div> +<div class="verse indent2">And shout, aye, loudly shout “heroics!” in Nature’s halls sublime.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Near by yon crystal mountain lake,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Hemmed in by cliff and sylvan wide,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">My hunter’s home I there would gladly make;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">There happy, as the famed “Tuck friar,” in the forest glade reside.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">In other days,—with saddle horse and pack!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">(Permit me, please, to trace my earlier rambles back!)</div> +<div class="verse indent0">When “whipping for trout” the rippled mountain streams,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Or “prospecting,” perchance, for that yellow dross that gleams</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span><div class="verse indent0">Ever brightly in man’s waking dreams.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Again, with Hope, I scale the lofty, snow-capped peak,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Again, with Joy, I cross vast plateaus wild and bleak,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Once more a thirst for water on hot desert plains,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Or else, half-drowned, I camp out in the rains!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">’Mongst pleasing memories thus, learn, oh, learn to live thy summers o’er and o’er;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Again to stand exulting on the storm-lashed shore.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Dear heart! thy Great Creator’s joy is largely thine;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">No want he made but gave food to supply.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">This is a universal law divine;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">The very wish thou hast to gain immortality,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Is strongest proof that “thou shalt not surely die.”</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Thus idling, grudge not, yet, to spend some precious hours;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh, kindly still sit here with me and muse among the flowers.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Behold! deep in the spacious hollow of yon evening sky</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Afar,—almost beyond the reach of mortal’s ken,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">How brightly there His clustering islands lie,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">How sweet the hope, there, after death, to live again!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">To thee—to me—what is the flight of time?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Count not as lost the fleeting hours we squander here in contemplations thus.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In those star-worlds, whose light-beams bridge o’er space,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Read there God’s covenants sublime:</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Eternity! eternity! was made for us!</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="AUTUMNAL_SPORTS"><i>AUTUMNAL SPORTS</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Oh, much I love the spring-time, when the nesting birds are here,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And much I love the summer days also, when brooks are bright and clear.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Greatly, too, I prize the winter season, with its fireside chat and cheer,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But sweeter, fairer far to me, is Autumn’s bracing, splendid weather!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">When the spicy, frost-bit, gold-hued forest leaves are falling,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">When the fearless, dusky, brownish bob-white quail is calling,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Calling boldly from the stubble-field to his timid scattered coveys in the thickets near,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">So right off I get my “shooting-iron,” and my doggie I untether!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And away, away we blithely stroll together,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">O’er the russet lawns, and on adown unto the fenlands, to our hearts so dear.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">And when arrived there soon,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Some rapid, random shots I take</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At the frightened ducks that squawking leave the lake,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And my doggie on the run,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And the direful booming of my gun,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sets my heart a-beating, beating,</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span><div class="verse indent0">For old Death himself might think that I were cheating, cheating</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Him out of half the “sanguine kills” that he himself would joy to make.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="POT-HUNTING_BESIDE_THE_PLATTE"><i>POT-HUNTING BESIDE THE PLATTE</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Oh, what fun! Oh, what fun!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With my doggie and my gun</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Tramping, tramping, strolling in the sun!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">“<i>Quack! squack!</i>” Look there! Look!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just above yon sluggish meadow-brook.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Six fat mallards up and off in flight.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Willie—Willie Greener! What delight!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Willie, watch me knock them left and right.</div> +<div class="verse indent0"><i>Crack—crack</i>—sounds my good “repeater.”</div> +<div class="verse indent0"><i>Crack—crack</i>—she may be an old shot-eater,</div> +<div class="verse indent0"><i>Crack—crack</i>—did I miss the whole blamed bunch?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh, no; just “salted down six” for lunch.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Willie—Willie Greener! Talk about your handsome double gun!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But my beloved “pump,” why she just beats the band for fun.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Colorado laws protect (?) the quails!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But we make it warm for snipes and rails.</div> +<div class="verse indent0"><i>“Quack! squack!”—crack—“squack”!</i></div> +<div class="verse indent0">Heavens! did I miss that “jack”?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Doggie—doggie—ain’t it funny</div> +<div class="verse indent0">We so seldom now can find a bunny?</div> +<div class="verse indent0"><i>“Honk—conk—honk”—pop-pop—pop-pop-pop—pop.</i></div> +<div class="verse indent0">Great Scots! Watch those wild geese drop and flop.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span><div class="verse indent0">My Muse! My Muse! By George, I think that we had better stop</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Before George Shields, of “brittle brush sensation,”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Gets our photos (blushing photos!) painted for his Recreation.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_ANTELOPE_HUNT"><i>THE ANTELOPE HUNT</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">In the country of Bijou,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just in sight of mountains capped with snow,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Stalking the “prong-horns” on the plain,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Once each year I go again.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">The sun is up. His glorious smile</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Illumes each ridge and dim defile.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The scent of sage and desert flowers</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Makes dainty, sweet, these morning hours.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Forth leaps my steed; my pulses start.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">By zephyrs cool my cheeks are fanned.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Away! Away! and with glad heart</div> +<div class="verse indent2">I roam my own, my native prairie land!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Now, whilst broad grass-flats skimming o’er.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">What thrilling dreams of days of yore,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Of bison hunts that are no more;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Of Indians red that vanished, too,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Like much big game “ye old-time hunters” slew.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Save a few prong-horns, fleet and sly,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That still roam o’er these deserts dry,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Those beasts,—those nomads,—all are gone!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Like shifting sands, they hurried on,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">As phantoms in a wizard’s glass,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Seen but a moment e’er they pass.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span><div class="verse indent0">Such memories flash across my mind,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Then fading, leave regrets behind.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">But hence, ye dreams! Away! Away!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Time is so brisk, so very fleeting;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">High rolls the sun,—supreme his sway;—</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Hot, red hot! on my poor head his beams are beating.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But no complaint,—I hunt to-day!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">To-day I seek the noble quarry;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just as of old I come to slay,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">(I yearn to bag at least one prong-horn wary!)</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But all in vain I scan the plain:</div> +<div class="verse indent2">I scower, likewise, the ridges airy.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I halt, glance back, dash on again,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">From right to left I keep a turning;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">I plunge among the sand-hills burning,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Then in and out, around and over,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But I can find those sly beasts nowhere,—never!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Nay, neither hoof nor horn have I spied;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In all my mad Mazeppa ride;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Tempted by the mirage lake,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Mocking thirst it cannot slake,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Scanning landscapes dim and hazy,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Till my eyeballs nearly burst,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Till I seem a-going crazy</div> +<div class="verse indent2">From pangs of heat and thirst,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Down, down to yonder sandy creek I will hie,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I must drink—and drink p-d-q—or surely I shall die.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Evening scents, and odors cool,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Flights of ducks above a pool;</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span><div class="verse indent0">Now, in the bunched sand-grass lying,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">From a high hill-top I am spying;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In a neighboring deep ravine,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Stands my hobbled steed unseen;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">All around, elsewhere, a cheerless waste,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But see, there! At last! at last!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Trooping up yon sunny slope,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">There! there! behold! My long-sought antelope!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Slowly, surely, toward me feeding,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">A monarch buck his subjects leading;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Soon at my feet he will lie bleeding.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">On,—on he comes! What a prize!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I can see his very eyes!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Now he stands <i>at gaze</i>,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In a half bewildered daze.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">There,—not eighty yards away!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Turns his head the landscape to survey.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Horns a yard long (or perhaps a foot!)</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Heavens! what a proud, exalted brute!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">How,—how my pulses throb and thrill,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh, oh, <i>what a joy it is to kill</i>!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">As I glance along the tube of death</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I can scarcely draw my breath,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Suppressing the emotions that I feel,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Till my nerves grow firm as steel.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">(Nay, nay; I tremble just a trifle.)</div> +<div class="verse indent0"><i>Crack!</i> sounds my little 30-30 rifle;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Down he goes,—like a rock!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Marcus Brutus! what a shock!</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span><div class="verse indent0">Just behind the left shoulder,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Struck him a thousand-pounds jolter.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Round me, now, prong-horns, snort and leap;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">I could kill a dozen if I chose;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Drop them, almost, in a heap.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">But I am not a butcher, God knows;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Yet, nathless I cut his throat,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And above him stand and gloat.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">But when the deed is done, the excitement over,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I feel a sense of sorrow ever.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And when up to the gory scene</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I lead my gentle, courser, Queen,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">(She is a large gray, dapple mare,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With wavy tail and main, and glossy hair.)</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Straight, straight up to my game she goes;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh, a thing or two she knows!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And I heave it on her back;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But it tumbles “overboard” ker-whack!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Does she snort, and pitch and bolt?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And “swat” me with her heels a jolt?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh, no,—just stretches forth her nose;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just touches my victim with her nose;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just fondles him with her soft, velvety nose,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just caresses him as if he were a colt,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just as if he were a little sleeping colt.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And she shames me with her eyes,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With her big, black, wondering eyes,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Full of reproach and surprise,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Till my heart within me cries,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Deploring these, my loved iniquities.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span><div class="verse indent0">Till I vow to never kill again,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But, such oath, of course, will be forsworn!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And proud and happy homeward soon I hie;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I’ll be plotting other <i>coups de grace</i> bye and bye.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">In the country of Bijou!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just in sight of mountains capped with snow,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Stalking the prong-horns on the plain</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Will we go?—oh, will we go again?</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="AT_MY_LITTLE_CABIN_HOME"><i>AT MY LITTLE CABIN HOME</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">At my little cabin home,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">In the timber by the Platte;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Have I ever cared to roam?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Go away, quit, forsake my little, cozy, quaint, Colorado home?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">No, no; I could not,—could not think of that.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Happy as a monarch I reside,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In the forest by my native river-side.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">In the valley of the Platte</div> +<div class="verse indent2">I am plucking flowers to-day,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Early wildings of the May.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">See! I’ve nearly filled my hat!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Ridge-flowers red, sand-lilies white,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Tufts of snowy-crested plumes;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Currants crowned with golden blooms;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Hawthorne-buds, bursting into light.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Strolling in the grove,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Gathering flowers for my love,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Gathering sweet flowers of the May</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Oh, my heart, my heart is glad to-day!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">From my little cabin home</div> +<div class="verse indent2">By the swiftly-flowing Platte,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Where the trout grow large and fat,</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span><div class="verse indent0">Have I ever cared to roam?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Go away, quit, forsake my little, cozy, quaint, Colorado home?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">No, no; I could not,—could not think of that.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Happy as a monarch I reside</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In the forest by my native river-side.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="TO_WALTER_WHITMAN"><i>TO WALTER WHITMAN</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Walter Whitman! Walter Whitman!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Walter, won’t you never quit, man?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Say neighbor, say, throw those hyadons away!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Those small wigglers are not fit, man,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">To make good canned sardines, I say.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Walter Whitman! Walter Whitman!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Walter, don’t you ever kind of wish</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just to drop down by the Platte and sit, man,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">And laze, and laze, and yank out some big fish?</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Walter Whitman! Walter, we have “whoppers” here!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">What think you of twenty pounder trout?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Walt, Walt, bring along your spear,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">You will call ’em “whales,” no doubt.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Walter Whitman! Walter Whitman!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Walter, ain’t you yet caught it, man?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Hey, neighbor! Hey there! I say.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Walt, Walt, just please step down to our house;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">We have “natives,” “rainbows,” venison and grouse,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Come, Walter, come, dine with us to-day.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="KING_MAMMON"><i>KING MAMMON</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Attended by his glittering train,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">King Mammon drives his chariot by,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Prostrate and bleeding, on the plain,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">His crushed, yet fawning, subjects lie.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">A mighty monarch—oh, ho! ho! is he!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">His hand shuts like a hasp.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">He dictates to “the Powers that be”;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">The nations tremble in his grasp.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">For him “the lilies of the field”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Their sweetest, sacred incense yield.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">He labors not—why should he toil?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">(For him the servile millions moil!)</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">A tyrant old—ah, ha! ha! he is;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">He rules the earth, he rules the seas,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The rolling planets he would chain;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">He robs the farmers of their grain;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">He cheats the worker of his wage;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">He whelms the peasant in his rage;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The merchant’s ruin swells his gain;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Beneath his chariot wheels profane</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Ten thousand wights each year are slain.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Kneel, then, ye hosts! Grovel on the plain!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">King Mammon is driving by.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Behold! Thugs, cut-throats—in his train!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Hands up! Yield! Deliver! or ye shall die.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="LO_QUE_ES_EL_MUNDI">“<i>LO QUE ES EL MUNDI</i>”</h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">In the Old World, in the New,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Blameless mortals are but few;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Men are scheming—ever dreaming</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Of the precious metals gleaming.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Ever bent on money getting,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">They are fretting, they are sweating;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Some are sighing, almost crying,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Others cheating, others lying!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Some are fasting, some are pining,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Many over-drinking, over-dining;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Hundreds swearing, groaning, whining,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">God forgetting! Joy declining!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh, the rabble, babble, scrabble, squabble,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh, the heart-ache, hate and strife and trouble,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">All for “filthy lucre,” that most greedy men would gladly gobble.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">In the New World, in the Old,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Shameless wights are bought and sold;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Mammon tempts them with his gold;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Hungry “thralls” without positions,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Preachers, paupers, venal politicians,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Half-salaried clerks, quack physicians,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Useless drones with fat commissions;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Soulless sharks grab all below.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Syndicates and trusts, they “knead the dough!”</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span><div class="verse indent0">Honest labor, stands small show,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">For Rothschilds & Company whole nations “hoe.”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Bursted banks make hard conditions,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Dampen, somewhat, our ambitions,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Aggravate our evil dispositions.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">In the Old World, in the New,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Saintly “grafters” fleece the sinner crew.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Labor’s hard, they know, to shirk,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But the old “skin game,” can’t they work?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Gospel guides” deign not to moil,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Nor earn their bread by honest toil.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Converted “lambs” they will despoil,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Yet oh, oh, their hands they hate to soil!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Collections large they love to see,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">They e’en would pilfer charity!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">How dare, how dare they levy tax on you and me!</div> +<div class="verse indent0"><i>God’s word it should be free</i>,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">So taught the Christ, they killed at Calvary!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Were, oh, were these “chosen few” but fewer!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Honest men then might profit more.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But long as selfish Self serves only Self,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">So long as preachers preach for pelf,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The righteous will lag back and not lead,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“The heathen” will despise your creed,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And count “ye saints,” most scurvy knaves indeed.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Wolves! What wolves beset both church and state!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">From prelate to chief magistrate,</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span><div class="verse indent0">God’s debater and ye legislator</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Each alike to Heavy Purse will cater.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh old Money Bags, he knows</div> +<div class="verse indent0">How to bribe “hobos”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To vote a “single tax”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That will break poor farmers’ backs</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And poor bachelors’ backs—by Halifax!—as well.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Crush out small realty owners,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Exempt large money loaners,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Leave half the values unassessed,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Double the rates on the rest,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Limit the coinage, confiscate the lands,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Collect more revenues and rents</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To pay—<i>to pay</i> <span class="smcap">the Government expense</span>!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Oh, ye vile viper classes!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">How ye prey upon the masses!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Burden your brethren, like so many stupid asses!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Tax-eaters and tax-beaters,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Cold voters, heelers, thugs and repeaters,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">(Listen, ye doubting Thomases, ye Peters),</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Czar Shylocks hath our millions got;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">You and I have dearth of dimes, God wot?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Force and fraud, fakir and robber,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Shovel our dollars into their hopper,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">For humanity, <i>such</i> care not a copper.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Arise! Arise! Ye long down-trod,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Can Greed, can Wrong arrest the wrath of God?</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span><div class="verse indent0">Have ye no heart, no courage left?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Of reason, too, are you bereft?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Combine, combine ye hosts, with awful power,</div> +<div class="verse indent0"><i>Organization will curb oppression in one brief hour</i>.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Beware! Beware! Ye sons of pride;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Watch well “the farmer with the hoe,”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Watch well the tradesman at his side,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">They plot—they plan! a tyrant’s overthrow.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Up then! Unite! All honest men unite!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Amass your forces, drill, make ready for the fight.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Fall in line—fill up the ranks of Truth and Right.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">March on! March on! In your native love of justice strong</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Wage relentless, rebellious war on Greed and Wrong!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">What, become anarchists? No, oh, no—thrice no.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Could Christian wish that blood should flow?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">No, no; but brave like Him of Nazareth, the frail, the lowly,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Him who yet waged battles great and holy;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Such fearless warriors again shall clear the way.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Truths bravely told turn fraud away</div> +<div class="verse indent0">By scorning, scathing cheats—by honest acts—by honest ballots—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just men yet shall masters be who now are valets!</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="TO_YE_WORTHY_SAILOR_MAN"><i>TO YE WORTHY SAILOR MAN</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Sailor-man! Sailor-man!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sail on—and sing if you can:</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Sail on with a heart full of cheer,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With a confidence strong and sincere.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Fight out life’s daily battles without fretting or fear.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Tho’ your fond hopes may fail,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Never sit down with a tear to wail;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just trim your sail to meet the ever-shifting gale</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Of success and good-fortune; never despair.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Success and good-fortune, ever await those who persistently persevere.”</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Sailor-man—tho’ it may seem hard to die,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To pass away and leave no trace behind,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">No sign, no token of thy dark or bright career,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">No glorious name to dower posterity,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Yet, oh, oh yet, he that doeth good, is honest and kind,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Or he who falls fighting bravely the righteous battle is just as dear,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Is just as worthy and deserving in God’s eyes</div> +<div class="verse indent0">As he who wins on earth immortal victories.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">To serve thy great Creator faithfully</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Should be thy constant solace and delight.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Truth and principle are worth more to thee</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Than all the riches of earth’s treasury bright.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span><div class="verse indent0">Better a life of worthy poverty and honorable defeat,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Than kingdoms won through oppression and deceit.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Sailor-man, sailor-man, the pure at heart alone are glad.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">True happiness in bosom vile can never dwell.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The vain-glorious and the criminal both alike are sad.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Bid, then, to pride, vanity and malevolence farewell.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Sailor-man, sailor-man, in thy rectitude serene and strong,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Having done thy “lubber mates” no wrong,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">So live on, sailor-man, that when thou shalt die,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To the mystic realms of Death thou shalt go trustingly;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With no guilt at thy heart, and no shame on thy face,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But being worthy, and confident still of His mercy and grace,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">So thou shalt stand without fear in the grand, solemn courts Upon High,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Foreseeing that a kind, loving Wisdom beyond the dank grave</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Will never let perish one single, pure, precious worthy life that He gave.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Sailor-man, sailor-man</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sail on, it soon will be dawn.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sail on, without fretting or fear.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The darkness is lifting—no breakers are near!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sailor-man, sail on, with a heart full of cheer!</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BE_JOYOUS_BE_GENTLE_WORTHY_KIND"><i>BE JOYOUS, BE GENTLE, WORTHY, KIND</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Be joyous! Yes, be joyous—be gentle, worthy, kind;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Fling rank, fling titles to the wind;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Put pride, put selfishness behind;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Throw caste, throw prejudice away!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Show mankind more humanity;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">You may not live another day.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Why mortals frail? Why vain? Why proud?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Soon lowly ye shall lie, swathed in a shroud.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Alike, the rich, the great, the small,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The grave ere long engulfeth all.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Time’s scythe mows down all human kind;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Time spares no rank. Oh, Death and Time, are blind.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Then, mortals frail, be just, be good;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Treat not thy fellows mean and rude;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Ye who true happiness would know</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Must kindness first to others show.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Learn, then, ye mortals who are sad,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Kind acts! Kind acts will make you glad.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Have honor, truth, and principle.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Thy word should be thy bond. Fulfill</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Thy promises; nor lie for further favors still.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Cheat not That One who “credit” gives;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">They who defraud are worst of thieves!</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span><div class="verse indent0">What chance have they in Heaven to dwell</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Who swindle God and man on earth—pray tell?</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Of worldly pelf, when thou hast need,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Go work, go work. ’Tis good to delve!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Hard labor counts. Be not afraid.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Great power lies within thy self.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Apply that force. Begin! Why wait?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Self-effort delays not that friends may aid.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Have courage! Yes, be brave.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Cowardice is a self-fettered slave!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Have lofty purposes, ambitious dreams!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">He is a clod who never schemes.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Energy, economy, skill, thoroughness,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Par excellence, insures success!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Be useful. Yes, bear thy hard load!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Rebel not ’gainst the will of God.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Work! Work! All honest toil is blessed.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Work faithfully; soon thou shalt rest.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To further some great good intent He placed thee here;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Then murmur not—be of good cheer.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">At one, at many failures be not dismayed.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Out of failures fortunes, master-works are made!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Thou cans’t be good, thou cans’t be great!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">’Tis not too late; tis not too late,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Tho’ thy heart were black as night;—tho’</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Thy hands were stained with blood,—yet</div> +<div class="verse indent0">God’s grace (and penance yet) would make thee white as snow.</div></div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">A purpose have—firmly fixed, unchangeable! Staid as are Hercules’ rocks.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Thus anchored fast unto Hope’s solid shore</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Thou cans’t withstand griefs ruder schocks.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Let, oh let adversity’s mad ocean-billows roar</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Round thee. Hate’s spume shall fall as sea-flakes tossed but in jest.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To pleasant dreams thou cans’t lie down, securely, sweetly rest</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Disturbed by neither Slander’s viper-tongue nor Mar’s iron crest.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Build,—build thy abode on solid ground,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With massive walls and battlements around.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">What tho’ misfortune’s myrmadons come thick and fast!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Abiding Confidence will rout the prowling foe at last.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Complacent be in darkness—complacent be in rain;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The never-quenched sun soon will shine again.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Lo! Is not earth a school? An outer court?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">A place wherein rude Intelligence is taught?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Is not the soul immortal? Does not Death but tear away</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Life’s soiled habilaments of clay?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">If so—have, then, no fear of thy “good valet” Death.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">He strips thee but to cleanse, and better clothe.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Have hope, have faith, have charity;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Strive to merit immortality.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At Pleasure’s fount dip deep.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In its pure ecstatic tide thy troubles steep.</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span><div class="verse indent0">Grave saint, if <i>righteous souls shall joyous live again</i></div> +<div class="verse indent0">Why should we sorrow here? Why vainly foster care and pain?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Nay, nay, most happy presence, acquainted best with Joy and Love</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Are those best fitted, sir, for life,—for exalted consecrated life above.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Then, mortals blest, why still? Why sad?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Cheer up, dear fellows, and be glad.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Live merrily—live while you may,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Gaily, gaily tripping along life’s way.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Waste not these few, these fleeting, precious hours;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">After death, as after night, dawns the brighter, fairer day,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Be happy, then, be thankful, grateful as the flowers.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="MY_COLORADO"><i>MY COLORADO</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Colorado! Oh, my own beloved Colorado!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Colorado, in the early days of spring;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Colorado, “when the birds are on the wing.”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Colorado, Colorado, ’tis of thee I dearly love to sing!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Colorado, when the brooks are flowing full and free;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Colorado, when “the herds come lowing o’er the lea”;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Colorado! Colorado! Oh, my own beloved Colorado!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Colorado is the place for you, friend, and for me.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Colorado, Colorado in the Autumn’s golden glow;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Colorado, when the hills are capped with snow;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Colorado, when the skies are soft and blue;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Colorado, Colorado,—how I do love you!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Colorado! Oh, my own beloved Colorado!</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BEAUTIFUL_COLORADO"><i>BEAUTIFUL COLORADO</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Colorado! Oh, what a glorious country!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Colorado! Could Nature more beautious be?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Colorado! See! Laughing sky is deep violet blue,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And rolling prairie is emerald hue,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">While mountain leaps up from the foot-hill below,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Great billow on billow of lily-white snow.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Oh, look away to the south!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">There yawns a canon’s great mouth,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">While out of the hazy distance beyond</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Behold Pike’s proud peak, so mighty and grand!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Then lifting her snowy-white head high up in the West,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Like a fond mother o’er offspring asleep on her breast,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Madame Lincoln looks down on many a baby-peak’s crest.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And joyous ever, rippling, murmuring near,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With music most sweet to the ear,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">We catch the glad, sparkling beam</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Of our Platte River—muse-haunted stream.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="AT_LITTLETON_IN_THE_GOOD_OLD"><i>AT LITTLETON “IN THE GOOD OLD +SUMMER TIME”</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">At Littleton! At fair, auspicious Littleton!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Upon a slope that tips it to the setting sun</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The village stands. Its lanes are spacious, wide,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With purling brooks beside.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Its grounds are ample, and shade trees,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">By the cool walks, arch greenly overhead.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The cottages by the thick leaves are almost hid.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">On summer days, in wanton play, the breeze</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Steals through the boughs, and down the beautious ways</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The flowers scent the mellow airs,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And wavily beside the fount, where the clear water smiles,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Chaldea’s willow trails her silky hairs.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">In pleasing contrast with yon damask rose,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">How sweetly here the lily blows.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Here blissful poppies loll in calm repose,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And saucy sun-flowers coquette with the sun</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At Littleton—at fair, auspicious Littleton!</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="AT_ENGLEWOOD_ON_AN_AFTERNOON"><i>AT ENGLEWOOD ON AN AFTERNOON +IN MAY</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">At Englewood—at cool, shady Englewood!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At Englewood to-day everything seems bright and good.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Here thrifty orchards blossoming lavishly around</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Scatter their shell-like petals on the ground.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Here fragrance-exhaling lilacs scent the breeze,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And the wild-birds carol in the trees.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Here are fresh, green gardens,—and between, the flash of tiny rills;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And, beyond—behold—the everlasting hills!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Here crowds of happy people continuously we meet,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">On the cars and in the street,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And a social spirit everywhere</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Whispers,—“fellow traveler, abandon care”;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Oh, for one afternoon, at least, be gay!”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Enjoy sweet idleness, partner, while you may.”</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="SEEKING_OUR_TWO_LITTLE_BROWN_BOYS"><i>SEEKING OUR TWO LITTLE BROWN BOYS</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Tell me, oh, my sweetest dove,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And ye watchful birdlings in the nest above,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Have you not seen our two little Brown boys?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Our two little <i>bad</i> Brown boys?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">They have both run away in quest of new toys</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And now, now we are seeking—seeking in vain for our boys.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">There’s the little boy Joy, and the little boy Love;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">They have both toddled off, new pleasures to prove;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">They are both much inclined for to rove,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And our rest and our peace of mind thus they destroy,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And now, now we can’t find neither bad boy.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Hah, there—ye rogues! through the thick bushes creeping,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At last, at last, me thinks I see them both peeping.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Come then—come ye dear babes—but whenever again we shall get you,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Run away, never, never more to-day, will we let you.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="TEARS"><i>TEARS</i> +</h2></div> +<p class="ph4"> +“Needless tears.”—Tennyson.</p> + + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">A-pleasure seeking all my days,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">What use have I for churlish tears?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Or sorrow’s dirge? Or Melancholia’s lays?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Joy’s rosy foot-paths I would follow onward yet for years.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Blossoms gay, and butterflies;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Light and life—hope and high emprise!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Rainbow tints allure my eyes!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Spend not, spend not thy hours in weeping;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Soon, soon in the grave we shall be sleeping.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Pensive stranger, banish sadness;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Search the fields in quest of gladness;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Seek in sunshine, seek in shadow,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Joy is waiting in the meadow.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Kindly faces, tempers sweet,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Loving friends on life’s journey we shall meet.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Tourist, then,—traveler,—grief is madness;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Tarry not with frenzy-chained Sadness.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Hark! hark! In budding forests near</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Happy birds are singing clear;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Nature’s heart is full of cheer.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Spend not, spend not thy hours in weeping.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With hope, with joy thy heart, thy care-constrained heart, it should be leaping.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="TO_OUR_LITTLE_JOY-PRINCE-CHERUB"><i>TO OUR LITTLE JOY-PRINCE—CHERUB +DELIGHT</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Come! thou little rosy urchin; come, I pray thee.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sorrow’s hand no longer here shall delay thee.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Down among the tall, green grasses swaying,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Where the lambs and lambkins glad are playing,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In meadows warm, where the lassies fair, and the laddies, are a Maying,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In flower-decked fields we likewise should be straying.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">By still waters bright,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Where the wild ducks curve in rapid flight,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Basking in the warm sunshine;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Drinking in a joy divine.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In cool gardens, full of flowers,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sweeter than the famed Hercynian bowers;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Happy here, we should while away life’s fleeting hours.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">On soft beds of fragrant ferns and roses,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Where the Love god oft reposes,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">By the red-winged black-bird’s nest,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Where some tired mortals so long to lie down and rest,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Blest companions of the birds and bees,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Here, shall not we fall asleep beneath the trees?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Puck and Pan, they may come find us if they can.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Or Fairy Mab, with cunning spying,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Discover the lolling rushes, where we are lying.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But that fretful little hunch-back Ogress Woman,—She,</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span><div class="verse indent0">who ever prates of care and pain,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">She our hiding place shall seek in vain.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Come, then, thou little rosy regent Prince of Peace and Pleasure,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In fields and woods to-day, we shall squander many hours of joy and leisure.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="INTROVERSE_RETROSPECTION"><i>INTROVERSE RETROSPECTION</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">’Mongst life’s sunny highlands I have strayed,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Shunning Mammon’s vale of shade;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And while wandering I’ve been pondering,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And I feel,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">As onward toward the tomb I steal,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That all our worldly toys, and troubles, are unreal.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Riches is a doubtful chattel,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Titles merely childish prattle;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sorrow is illogical, demoniacal dreaming.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Joy and Hope alone are real—death is only but in seeming.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">For gladness, then—for better life we ever should be scheming.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Fame holds forth for us a false, illusionary flower.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Build, Folly! Build thy tower!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Canst thou evade the inevitable hour?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Toil, Pharoah, toil! Thy doom</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To build a pyramid—thy tomb!</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="SUNDRY_SWEETS"><i>SUNDRY SWEETS</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Oh, oh, how I love to plant the tender tree!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">What tho’ it bear no fruits for me?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Its shady boughs, its leafy greenery,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Its balmy, budding youthful gladness</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Will cheer me when in age and sadness.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">“Hah, there!” A nice little girl just sauntered by;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I smiled at her, she smiled at me,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And now we both are smiling, don’t you see?</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Whoopla—ha! ha! What a picnic!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">A lady just kissed me at the train.</div> +<div class="verse indent6">(But it wasn’t meant for me!)</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“How strange!” you say, “how very queer?”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">(Oh, she mistook me for her hubby dear,)</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Who signaled her, and yelled in vain.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Observing tourists thought he’d gone insane.</div> +<div class="verse indent6">Yes, I enjoyed it more than he,</div> +<div class="verse indent6">That kiss that wasn’t meant for me.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Now that I’ve made my little fortune,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I have lots of fun,—</div> +<div class="verse indent2">There’s not a thing I miss.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I am so glad, I am so gay;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">If Psyche throw my love away,</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span><div class="verse indent2">If I “fall out” with Chloris</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I will, I will be merry still.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">A smile, a smile,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Have I not won a smile,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">A smile from charming little Doris?</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="FELICITOUS_RETROFLECTIONS"><i>FELICITOUS RETROFLECTIONS</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Tho’ this life may have its many thousand ills</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And nameless woes—and the gait or the grind kills—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Yet with all this, “this life it is most jolly”;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">What folly to consort, then, with Care and Melancholy!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Petty troubles should not grieve thee,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Of thy happy dreams bereave thee.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Faint of heart—cark was a “quitter” ever.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Undaunted cheer kept bravely on!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Stop not to brood o’er failures—never,—never!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Almost defeated “Trojans” have oft the battle won.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Sharpest thorns among red roses;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Bitter rind sweet fruit encloses,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And a pinching, pestering torment teaches this:—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Vanquished sorrow adds greater zest to bliss!</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="LITTLE_LOVE_A-FISHING_WENT"><i>LITTLE LOVE A-FISHING WENT</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">On a hot summer day—alack the day!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Little Love a-fishing went.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To the “river cool,” he took his way,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">And there met Beauty gay,—by accident.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Of knotted twine, Love made a line,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">For a hook a pin he bent;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And this “tackle,” he thought fine,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">That never cost him a red cent.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Beside the Platte the gleeful stripling sat,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">But when approaching Beauty he espied,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">He rose to fly—she snatched his hat;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Then little Love fell down and cried.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Bold Beauty plucked him from the grass</div> +<div class="verse indent2">And held him in her tender arms.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">His pouting lips she tried to kiss;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">This “added much” to his alarms.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Ah, would I were that fisher-lad!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Then Beauty gay, might have her way.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">What tears of joy would not I shed,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Would she but snatch “my old white hat!”</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Would she come kindly, sweetly, kiss my fears away.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="AT_MANITOU"><i>AT MANITOU</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">At Manitou—at delectable Manitou!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh, oh, if I only just had a million or two</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I would build a cottage—a cottage at Manitou.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Now in the sunshine, now in the shade,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Smoothly the train slides down the grade.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Plunging into tunnels as black as night,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Out again into the clear sunlight!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Curving around grassy hillsides warm and bright;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">High above, a torrent as white as snow,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Dashing and splashing in the gorge below;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Nearing now a ruined fortress old and brown,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">A Titian fortress by the demi-gods pulled down.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Passing by gay companies at wayside places,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Maidens and men, and youths’ and children’s faces,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And oh, oh, everything is bright, everything is new!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In the beautiful village we are swiftly passing through!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Castles and cottages crowning the cliffs;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Castles and cottages nestling away down in the boulder drifts;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Castles and cottages perched on crags and peeping from splintered rifts.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Castles and cottages beneath and above,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Cosy abodes,—bright as the bowers of love!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh, oh, if I only just had a million or two</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I surely would build a cottage—a cottage at Manitou.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="AT_DENVER"><i>AT DENVER</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">At Denver, at sunny Denver town;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At Denver, where the snowy hills look down;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At Denver, where the ladies never frown;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At Denver,—at classic Denver town.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">At Denver, at jolly Denver town.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At Denver,—in the autumn of the year,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At Denver, when the merry crowds assemble, and King Carnival draws near.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At Denver,—at festive Denver town.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">At Denver,—-at social Denver town,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At Denver, there “the portly parson” smiles and winks,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At Denver,—there the naughty boys take their drinks</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And the lithesome lassies dance “high jinks,”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At Denver—at gay, athletic, youthful Denver town.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">At Denver—if you ever go to Denver town</div> +<div class="verse indent0">You will surely see the circus and the clown.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">You will hear them sweetly rhyme</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Of the pleasures of their clime</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And they’ll, pretty tolerably nearly, “show you a jolly good time”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">At Denver—if you only go to Denver town.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="TO_OUR_LADY_OF_WOE"><i>TO OUR LADY OF WOE</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Dolores, dear, cease, kindly cease thy moaning;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Thy cares, thy troubles, are thy own.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">None, none, will heed thy hollow groaning—</div> +<div class="verse indent2">“Weep, and you weep alone!”</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">“Laugh! and the world laughs with you!”</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Sorrow none would choose to borrow;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">These are maxims old and true,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">“Clouds to-day—sunshine to-morrow.”</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Unhappy priestess,—pray be good!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Why, why all these sighs and tears?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Come, learn of Joy and God’s plenitude!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">To Bliss, not Grief, belongs thy blooming years.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="REGRET"><i>REGRET</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">I know that I must die;</div> +<div class="verse indent2">This is my one regret.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">I hope, of course, to gain immortality,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">That is, in “the sweet bye and bye!”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But, oh, to leave this world of cheer and fret,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">This is my regret—my great regret.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Truly I grieve, to pass from earth away,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">To realms, perchance, of brighter day.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">So glad I am that I have lived and been;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That I have joyed and chafed,—and strived to keep my conscience free from sin.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh, if I could, gladly I would, live life’s wondrous dream of pain and pleasure o’er—aye! many times o’er again.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="OF_PARADISE_ETC"><i>OF PARADISE, ETC.</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Of Paradise ’tis sweet to dream,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And life beside the Elysian stream!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In flowery vales ’mong scenes above,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Why loves the fancy so to rove?</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Why does man so berate the earth?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Are there no shrines for reverence here?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">The Mother World that gave him birth</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Has always been man’s sport and sneer.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Is Nature, then, so harsh and cold?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Has she no warmth, no love, no light?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Does she her children cuff and scold?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Are mankind, then, her special spite?</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">No, no! Earth loves her human brood!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Earth is a mother kind and good.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">’Tis man alone—inglorious wretch!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Who would his parents’ name besmirch.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Love, then, the world! Is it not fair?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Could God design a brighter, cosier sphere.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Of clay, of water, wood and air?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Were man but just, what paradise were here!</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="ON_IMMORTALITY"><i>ON IMMORTALITY</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">For immortality, all mortals sigh,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Men are not dead, then, when they die?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Fond Hope dispels our mental fears,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Transports the thoughts to happier spheres.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">And yet,—’tho we ceased here in rayless night,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Have we not had our share of light?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Of summer sunshine, cloud and showers,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Bright rainbow tints, bright birds and flowers?</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">O’er dearth of years is it not selfishness to grieve?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">How much of unawakened clay,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Has yet not had its glimpse of day,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Has yet not felt the thrill of life?</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Anon, anon, when his long race is run,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Will not man gladly rest in his cool tomb?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">For other lives we should make room;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sleep they not best, whose hard life’s work is done?</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_FELICITOUS_MEDICAL_PRESCRIPTION"><i>A FELICITOUS MEDICAL PRESCRIPTION</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">For human woes, for human ills,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">My learned Muse an anodyne distills,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">A priceless panacea for the sad.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Some balm she has, some extracts of herbs she gathers among the hills,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">(Take one small teaspoonful if you’re really feeling bad)</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Some tinctures rare she stores, of sweet, medicinal water-flowers,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">(Warranted to “kill pain” in two hours!)</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Some infusions of lotus leaves, fresh plucked from pools in fancy’s rills</div> +<div class="verse indent0">(Oh, what a long-felt want, this “all-curative” fills!)</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just one minim will do you much good;—a gill will make you unusually glad.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">(Only known sure specific for poor human wights gone mad.)</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Truly there’s nothing better in Earth’s pharmacies!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Try one “free-trial package” every fortnight if you choose.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">A “prize gift box” will flush pale cheeks and brighten saddened eyes;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And enough of the wonderful “stuff” just knocks the socks off of the blues.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Sad friend—have hope! have hope!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Don’t fret, don’t fuss, don’t mope;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just take your dope! Just take your dope!</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span><div class="verse indent0">No good, no good to swear or pine,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">(When, Great Scot’s! There’s heaps of virtue in our anti-trouble pills!)</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And zounds—look at the price! That surely should suit fine:—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Doc” pays the bills! “Doc” pays the bills!</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="TO_THOSE_DARK_EYES_THAT_HAUNT"><i>TO THOSE DARK EYES THAT HAUNT +ME STILL</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">We met—’twas while passing through the crowded street-car door.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">We met—for one brief moment her dark eyes gazed into mine.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh, what wonderful, beautiful, bewildering brown, black eyes they were!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Large, languorous—“swimming in the stream!”</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Seeming to melt to their own beam.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Great lustrous, magnetic orbs, o’erfilled with glints of passion and with dreams divine!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">We met—we gazed—her modest glances fell, then, to meet mine nevermore.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">We met—we parted—but, oh! those dark, resplendent, dream-eyes they haunt me still.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Potent influences they hold for good or ill.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Star-lights, that could lead man’s wandering foot-steps safely up the steeps to Paradise,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Or plunge him downward dazzled to the depths of hell!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Beatific lady! I wonder will for me those peerless lenses ever beam again!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And, oh (in modesty) have they not beveiled their fires from mine before?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Descendant of some enchantress, princes, peasant-girl, or queen.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Have not we known each other, long ere this, upon some foreign shore?</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span><div class="verse indent0">In aeons past,—by Time’s wide river drifted far apart,—</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Did we not once dwell happy in a better land?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Reincarnated spirits, are not ours, spirits of lovers oft parted, tho’ ever loth to part?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Lady—lady—did not we as old-time sweethearts once walk fondly hand in hand?</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="MY_MOTOR-CYCLE_GIRL_AND_I"><i>MY MOTOR-CYCLE GIRL AND I</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">My motor-cycle girl and I are a sport-loving pair;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Too speedy for Sorrow, we race away from dull Care;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">We startle Deacon Gossip, we shock Madame Trouble,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Dear, oh, dear, how awful!” they say; “what a very swift couple!”</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">We are out late at night,—out again next day!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Do we enjoy life? Well, I should say!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Are we fond of rapid riding?” Oh yes; indeed! But what is the harm,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Since we hurt nobody, and speed has its charm?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Sometimes, we rest in the park, ’neath the leafy shade;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Do we fret and jaw, and chew the straw, when there ain’t no sweet in our lemonade?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Yes; well, yes, then to church we go with a right good will,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Oh, oh, how can they sit there so serene and still?”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Says Trouble to Gossip, “and smile—and smile—and smile,—</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And tremble not, when the minister mentions ——?” Well, well!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Our lives are chaste, and we have no dread,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Of sulphurous caldrons, or ovens red-hot.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">We taste no “sour, old apples” that we should not!</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span><div class="verse indent0">In thrifty orchards by the cool wayside, trees are laden with purple plums and crimson cherries.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Yet oh, oh, yet, for “forbidden fruit” we never do fret,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">In our basket for lunch we have cake and sugar and cream and fried chicken and rich ripe preserved strawberries.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">In the flower-decked meadows, sometimes, we are tempted to stray</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But a big notice reads, “Stay out—Keep off the Alfalfa.”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">By the sweet green fields, therefore, we fairly fly,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Nay, nay, on the “sacred grass,” we never trespass;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And furthermore, we never get gay, nor sass Farmer Gray,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">When we meet him in town, and he offers to sell us some hay!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">And do my girl and I love? Well, now, come, come! Can’t you guess?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">If we don’t, of course, of course I’m not to blame,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">For she is such a fair, fresh young rosebud you know,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And I am—well, she just calls me—just plain “Uncle Sam,”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But I am—of <i>course I’m her beau</i>!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Of a buggy-ride this friend of mine and I are fond,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But the “metalsome steed” is our chief delight.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Adown the road we scurry at a lively rate,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And the slow-going crowd is left behind.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Caloric individuals,” like we are, they say</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Are liable to get scorched some—some very fine day.”</div></div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">But my blithe merry lass and I never hear—we are speeding away!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And little, how little, care we for what rude tattlers say?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With consciences clear as lilies are white.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">We heed not the slur of Envy and Spite.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Let cripples and criplets stand aside in dismay;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">We will be young when they are decrepit and gray.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Let Troubles and Gossip mistrust us and spy;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">We will be angels ere such “saints” learn to fly.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="DIFFERENCES_OF_OPINION"><i>DIFFERENCES OF OPINION</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Some men may differ from our creed,—</div> +<div class="verse indent4">Give our good advice small heed.</div> +<div class="verse indent4">Some men may not be our way of thinking.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">But if they are honest they surely should be frank,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">And not behind one’s back, go winking, blinking!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">And say, “behold! a crank—there goes a crank!”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Or else hide in a crowd and yell:</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“An infidel! An infidel!</div> +<div class="verse indent0">A ski-shod pilgrim, coasting blindly down the road to hell.”</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Fellow—churlish fellow, if thou never cans’t be joyous,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Why with constant fretting thus wilfully annoy us?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Does thy sorrow so need company</div> +<div class="verse indent0">That thou wouldst meanly pester those who would gladly comfort thee?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">How selfish, then—how unkindly such must be</div> +<div class="verse indent0">As would wish to force unwilling ones to share with them their self-imposed misery.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="IN_THE_FOREST"><i>IN THE FOREST</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">In the leafy fastness of the forest, there are sounds of mirth and gladness,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Strange wild symphonies that tell of peace and rest,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Dulcet cadences, unlike, unakin unto the noises heard in marts of human strife and madness,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Vile discords that make existence in life’s crowded hippodromes seem displeasurable, irreligious and unblest.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Deep, deep in the shady sanctuaries of the wildwood</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Druid lives of old were happily lived and beautiful I find;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">What tho’ Nature’s children sometimes seem harsh and rude!</div> +<div class="verse indent2">They never really are ungrateful or unkind.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Deep, deep in the peaceful quiet sylvans, rosebuds fall and fade.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Littering the green-sward o’er whereon I lie,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Yet dreaming still “beneath my bowers, blossom-woven shade”</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Blissfully I linger, while the summer days go by.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="MY_SUMMER_GIRL_AND_ME"><i>MY SUMMER GIRL AND ME</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Under the green-wood tree</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Joyfully,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Rest my summer girl and me.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Fonder, franker pair, hath never been</div> +<div class="verse indent0">A-courting here upon the lawn.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Oh, my dear, you look so sweet,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">All in lace and satin white,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With that rosebud in your hair,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">And those lips that seem to say,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">“You may, you may,—nay, nay,—nay, nay,”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“You may kiss me—don’t you dare!”</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Under the green-wood tree</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Life is full of witchery.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Listen, then, dissembling girl, to me:</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Come, come, fair one; no more delay.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Come, come, sweetheart, and marry me?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">What, what care we for worldly state?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">For mansion proud, or titles great?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">My humble cot, beside the Platte,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With thee its mistress, well might seem</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Fairy May Queen’s bower, and life an Eden dream.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">With hope, with health, enough to eat,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Our cup of joy were full indeed.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">For having all that makes Earth dear,</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span><div class="verse indent0">How could, how could we wish for more?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Come, then, my love; no more delay;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Name, name, oh, name our wedding day!</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Under the green-wood tree</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Soon married we shall be,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">My dainty summer girl and me.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_REQUIEM"><i>A REQUIEM</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">To-day—alas, to-day, there’s a tear in my eye,</div> +<div class="verse indent8">And deep at my heart there’s a pain.</div> +<div class="verse indent6">With a sob and a sigh the winds hurry by,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">They are singing, singing a sad refrain.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Nay, nay,” they seem to sing, they seem to say,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">“Nay, nay, we shall never meet Mabel again.”</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Nay, nay, we shall never meet Mabel again.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Too gentle and fair, for this rude world of jostle and care;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Too kind-hearted and good, for this hard life of trouble and pain,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">So the angels, they have taken Mabel away,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">But ’tis sweet, it still is sweet to think that some day,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">In that “beautiful city Up There,”</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Maybe we shall meet our dear little friend Mabel again.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Yet to-day,—oh, to-day, there’s a tear in each eye,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">And deep at each heart there’s a pain;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Through the over-cast sky, dark trailing clouds hurry by,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">And it looks like rain.</div> +<div class="verse indent0">While the winds are singing,—still singing that sad refrain.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">“Nay, nay,” they seem to sing, they seem to say:</div> +<div class="verse indent0">“Nay, nay, we shall never meet Mabel again.”</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="FAREWELL-I_AM_STILL_CAMPING"><i>FAREWELL!—I AM STILL CAMPING!</i></h2></div> + + +<p>My dear tourist friend—farewell! Farewell perhaps +forever. Farewell! I am still camping! In the cool +shade of the cottonwoods beside the Platte, I am camping. +I who erstwhile in careless youth’s hilarious days, a handsome +book of verse and prose did write and print, a book +that has neither brought me fame nor fortune as yet; nay, +nay, and it never will.</p> + +<p>Ha, ha, ha! Yes, I am still camping. In delightful +tranquility and in the generous shelter of the tall timber +close down by the clear blue water’s side, my humble little +abode is still standing. Its dingy white-washed walls +may yet be seen peeping out pleasingly from among the +thick green leaves of the patriarchal trees of the forest.</p> + +<p>Yes, yes; I am still camping. Pegasus, my “broncho +plug” (my vaunted poet’s steed!), has long since been +turned loose to browse on the luxurious sage-brush, and +the crisp buffalo-grass of the Great Plains. Genevieve, +my docile cow, too, has strayed away, or else she has been +stolen, which I know not, neither do I care, as I am in the +“stock business” no longer.</p> + +<p>To-day, to-day, just as of yore; seated still on the +same old log,—silently—silently, still, I am angling in +the Platte. Angling still for “suckers” in the eddying +tide, but alas! alas! they do not bite. They seem to realize +perfectly, clearly, that I have been along this way before. +They seem, metaphorically, to say, “No, sir, no; we respectfully +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span>decline your book-worm-bait, and your cunningly +contrived fly-productions.”</p> + +<p>Yea, yea; it is the same old story—“a fisherman’s +luck! A fisherman’s luck!” Yet, nevertheless, I am ever +hopeful and content to wait. God’s good will will be done, +no doubt in his own good time. This is my consolation. +“Nor cease I yet to wander where the Muses haunt—clear +brook and shady rill.” Green bank and blue, unclouded +sky. Quiet grove and breezy hill. Fresh flowers and +the songs of birds. These all make musical and brighten +still my dreams, and gladden likewise my long-expectant +eye.</p> + +<p>But farewell, my dear tourist friend—-farewell, perhaps +forever! And when back again unto “orient +realms” thou shalt soon have returned,—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">“Just tell them that you saw me while out West,</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Just mention that I’m camping,—they will surely know the rest!”</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="SUPPLEMENTARY">SUPPLEMENTARY</h2></div> +<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 90]</span></p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a><a id="Page_91"></a>[Pg 91]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="NEW_GLAD_VOICES"><i>NEW GLAD VOICES</i></h2></div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">To-day—to-day—the birds again are singing and rejoicing,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Nature’s great heart, once more, with pleasure thrills;</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Mortals—mortals—we to our gladness should be voicing.</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Not brooding o’er life’s griefs and ills.</div></div> + +<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Has not the world had enough of sorrow?</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Is not the world yet done with tears?</div> +<div class="verse indent0">Joy <i>to-day</i>—if thou wouldst joy to-morrow,</div> +<div class="verse indent2">Away with care—away with frets and fears.</div></div> +</div></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="MAY-DAY_BESIDE_THE_PLATTE"><i>MAY-DAY BESIDE THE PLATTE</i></h2></div> + + +<p>To-day—to-day! It is sweet May-day again beside the +Platte. The cottonwoods are putting forth their green. +The wild, red-roses and the white plum-blossoms +scent the air. The lark is in the fields; the robin’s cheery +voice is heard. The golden flecker and the oriole make +music in the woods. The dove’s low cooing woos the +murmur of the streams, and the merry blackbirds chant +amid the wild, sweet meadow-grass, and starry-eyed +asclepia blooms.</p> + +<p>The vast, green prairie spreads around. Its boundless +lawns are sweet with flowers. The “bonny-bells” and +“yellow eyes” have decked the sunny slopes with gold. +The round, green hills are gay with dandelions and +daisies. The sweet blue-flags, the “yuccas” and the +“artemisias” brighten everywhere.</p> + +<p>Northward, amid his banks of bloom and graceful +curves, the “silver river” glides. Westward, a dozen +miles beyond, the stream, and, looming over all in grand +relief, appears the old, shining Rocky Mountains, the +snowy range towering amid the storm-clouds, and the +purple foot-hills, like the Titan forms of old among the +shattered fortresses of vanquished gods!</p> + +<p>Dreamer, you are in Colorado—you stand upon the +banks of the Platte. The great, wild prairie stretches all +around us. Its smooth, green lawns are bright with silver +brooks and crystal lakes. Hundreds of wild fowl +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span>disport upon the water’s blue, unrippled bosom. Long +strings of cattle come forth to drink—others graze in +droves among the low, round hills near by. How beautiful! +how bright! how grassy wild! how fair and sweet!</p> + +<p>Dreamer, does not your heart grow glad? This is a +land for rest and holiday! You hear the hum of golden +bees. You feel the soft flow of the air. The sky is clear +and blue and bright. The fields are green and dry and +warm. The woods are beryl-hued and full of singing +birds. High above you, snowy mountains tower—“Long” +and “Lincoln” prop the sky. You behold Pike’s +Peak further south—its blue sides terminating in a crown +of snow.</p> + +<p>My name is Brown—Sam Brown. I was born under +the shadow, as it were, of these grand old Rocky Mountains. +Thirty years ago, when all this vast region of +plains and mountains, extending from the Mississippi +River on the east to the shores of the Pacific Ocean on +the west, to the Mexican Gulf on the south, and to the +British possessions on the north, was an almost unexplored +wilderness, filled with wild beasts and hostile Indians, +my father and mother crossed the plains in a +“prairie schooner,” drawn by a yoke of oxen. They came +west early in ’59, with the first rush of those hardy gold +seekers whose motto was “Pike’s Peak or Bust!”</p> + +<p>Finding mining unprofitable they settled down to +farming and stock-raising near the base of the mountains. +Here to them four sons were born—of whom I am the +eldest, having been born on March 21, 1860. I am a +Colorado pioneer—yes, born of a pioneer ancestry—and +it is with a sense of pride that I point out to you the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span>fact. I also take a kind of grim pleasure in informing +you that my earlier life was spent in the free and easy +pursuits of a cowboy, and that my first childhood playmates +were the red Indians of whose boundless liberty I +used to feel very envious during my school days.</p> + +<p>Many incidents which occurred away back in the “sixties,” +when we white settlers used to have to fortify ourselves +at Denver, to avoid being scalped by the Arapahoes +and Cheyennes, are still fresh in my memory.</p> + +<p>Denver, which is now a city of nearly 200,000 inhabitants, +was in those days but a mere hamlet of several +dozen shanties, standing almost entirely on the west bank +of Cherry Creek. What a change has taken place about +my home within the space of but a few brief years! On +the little plateau where Fort Logan stands to-day, I shot +my first “prong-horn,” and oftentimes I have played ball +with Willie Bates and Jimmy Steck on the grounds now +occupied by our State’s capitol and County’s court-house.</p> + +<p>All of those dry uplands, where I used to pasture my +cows, are now covered in season with wavy fields of wheat, +maize and alfalfa—meadows, orchards and blooming garden +plats. Where the Indian wigwam smoked but a few +brief summers gone by, lordly mansions and pleasant +homes are standing to-day. But the humble structure in +which I was born has not been torn down yet. It stands +on the west bank of the Platte River, near Littleton, and +in Denver’s beautiful suburb, Wynetka. My parents, who +still live at the old homestead, but now in a large and +comfortable farm-house, have preserved the little old log +cabin as a relic of bygone days.—<i>Written Jan. 20, 1890.</i></p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="MY_NATIVE_LAKES"><i>MY NATIVE LAKES</i></h2></div> + + +<p>Of those silent pools, far remote in that wild Western +land—the land of my nativity—I am dreaming +to-day.</p> + +<p>Away out there, where the old, shining Rocky Mountains +seem to reach off to the ends of the world, where the +great plains stretch away in boundless undulations of +wavy greenery, as far as the eye can see—there Colorado’s +lakes rest in eternal calm.</p> + +<p>In other times—bright boyhood days, now forever +flown—mounted on a shaggy broncho, with gun in hand, +and followed by a long-legged, one-eyed hound, I have +often driven my cattle there to drink. Again, in light +canoe, with double-bladed oar, I have glided for hours +along the scarcely rippled tide, chasing the diver-ducks +and the blue coots so tame, or trying random shots at +the mallard-ducks and wary teal that flew nearly out of +range, high up overhead. Now and then a lucky shot +would bring me down a great white pelican or a blue +crane. Yet more often I would kill a brant or a Canadian +goose.</p> + +<p>Beyond the lake a tiny cascade could be seen, pouring +down its silvery flood from the lofty, snow-capped heights +above. At the mountain’s foot the foamy tide fell into a +little pool, and there, after forming itself into a little +brook, it ran off flashing in the sunlight, across green +meadows, beside leafy groves, and along flowery banks, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span>until at last it found its way down to the great, blue, +laughing lake, where it lost itself in the silent tide.</p> + +<p>At the mouth of the stream, and just beside the wood, +stood an Indian village—the white tepees of which could +be plainly seen, peeping out from among the green glades +and leaves of the trees. The red Indian, too, was often in +sight, for he loved to loiter along those pleasant shores. +Many times have I met him angling patiently along the +banks of the small stream. At other times I have watched +him for hours chasing the wild herds of the plain. The +fallow-deer, the “prong-horn,” the bison and the elk he +called his “cattle,” and he claimed them as his own.</p> + +<p>His was a happy, careless life—as aimless and as +dreamy as my own. Nature supplied his every want. His +orchards were the thickets of cherries and wild-plums. +His harvests of golden grain were the fields of yellow +sun-flowers. His gardens were the untilled fields, and +there his vegetables grew. The roots and bulbs he knew +supplied his pottage. Honey was stored for him by the +wild bees, and the beasts of the field gave him their furry +coats to keep him warm. His dusky mate was an easy +love, and she always treated him with kindness. His life +was one of sportive ease, and I have often envied him his +happy lot.</p> + +<p>It was an indescribable joy to me in those old days to +stroll along the white-pebbled beach of the lake and gather +shells. I also loved to roam among the green, round hills +near by and gaze out across the calm blue lake, or let my +glances wander afar off up those shining straits, channeled +out, as they are, like mighty gateways among the cliffs +and crags of the ancient hills. Far away they would +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span>widen out again into broad lakes, or else they would wander +off and lose themselves in narrow straits among the +splintered crags and snow-capped peaks of the not distant +mountains. Often, as I would sit gazing up into those +mystic gulfs and weird canons, stretching far away +among the hills, I would fancy in my childish innocence +that I could catch glimpses of another world which lay +dimly visible in the “far beyond.” I had hopes of being +able, some day, to propel my little bull-hide boat into that +wonderful realm of the “great unknown.” The long +lines of “sand hill” cranes, the sharp phalanx of white +geese, the flutter of swans’ wings, circling away across +the distant marsh lands, appeared as the flash of angel +wings. To me they seemed as the spirits of the blest, +circling through celestial skies or hovering above the +shores of Paradise.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span></p> + + + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THOSE_ARE_THE_ROCKY_MOUNTAINS"><i>THOSE ARE THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS</i></h2></div> + + +<p>“Those are the Rocky Mountains”—yes, those long, +blue lines of cordilleras just above you are the foot-hills, +and those tall, white peaks standing afar +off beyond, and appearing ethereal and ghost-like in the +dim distance, are the ice-clad summits of the “snowy-range.”</p> + +<p>“Those are the Rocky Mountains”—yes, and <i>these</i> are +the great plains. Oh, what a beautiful, green, wild world +this is! How can one live in such a land and not be glad! +It is a day of God, and the wild herds of the plain are +grazing all around us. They range in droves among the +low, round hills near by, or lick “alike” in the deep, basin-like +valleys below, where often we catch the shimmer of +some fairy lake.</p> + +<p>“Those are the Rocky Mountains”—yes, and as we +ride along, across the smooth, white plain, with the warm +sunlight streaming down from a cloudless heaven upon +us—streaming down through an atmosphere as clear as +glass—as sparkling and as buoyant as any air upon the +earth—as we ride along, gazing out across the great, +green world and up at the blue sky, and then upon those +stupendous peaks and everlasting snow-clad hills, my +spirit thrills with a deep delight, and I feel a something, +stranger, that you know not of.</p> + +<p>“Those are the Rocky Mountains”—yes, and oh! I +was born, as it were, under the very shadow of their +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span>snow-covered heads. While yet a baby in my mother’s +arms I first gazed out upon those everlasting hills.</p> + +<p>While yet a little child I used to draw mountains upon +my slate. Rude sketches they were, no doubt, but how +could I live and love, and yet not limn that which so +much I loved? I knew not then of poet or painter’s art, +nor ever dreamed that I myself should rhyme some day, +and paint and write and limn with words, and tell men +of my childhood’s dreams.</p> + +<p>In boyhood days how often have I lain upon the mossy +river brim and gazed out, through the vistas of the leafy +trees, up at those blue, bright, snow-capped peaks beyond! +How often, among the warm, green meadow +grass, gay with May-flowers, have I wallowed just below +those rocky heights! How often, in those glad young +days, have I longed to climb those dizzy cliffs and crags +and towers, or to rove among those caves and rifts and +dells and canons deep, to prospect there for gold and +gems and fruits and blossoms rare! Oh, how I longed +to cross over the range, as other boys and bearded men +had done! It was there that the Indians located their +“Happy Hunting Grounds,” or the “Regions of the +Blest.” Over there they said it was that the good Indians +went after death. I had also heard men tell of California—“a +delightful, warm country,” they said, “where it is +always summer, and where fruits and flowers are plentiful +and can always be had just for the picking.” They +said that a great, wide, blue sea, called the Pacific Ocean, +rippled along the coast of that green, warm land, and +that the beach of the sea was strewn with many-colored +and richly-tinted shells. How I longed to visit that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span>glorious sunset land, just over the range, but in my childish +innocence I imagined it must be an almost life-long +and herculean task to surmount those stupendous and +lofty heights where the snows of centuries lay piled up in +great banks and drifts hundreds of feet in depth. I also +fancied that I could sometimes see the forms of giant +warriors stalking about among those wild crags and +cliffs. In my belief they were the guardian watchers of +those “Happy Hunting Grounds” of the Indians. I regarded +them as sentries stationed along the outposts of +that blessed place, whose duty it was to turn back all adventurous +travelers whom they might catch attempting to +enter that terrestrial paradise of the great, wild West.</p> + +<p>One day, while my father, my mother, my brothers +and myself were on a plumming and raspberrying excursion, +my father made a remark that awoke a new superstition +within my soul. My mother was driving our +wagon, which was drawn by a yoke of gentle oxen, +through the level of a beautiful vale, surrounded by lofty +peaks, when my father, looking up, said to me in a mysterious +kind of way, “My son, the Genus of the hills is +looking down with wonder, for lo, behold, yonder is +Madam Progress driving by in her ox-propeller car.” Ever +after that I had a superstitious dread of this same Genus +of the hills, and it was not until long years afterward, +when the dry learning and colorless truths of youth had +begun to dispel the flowery fancies, poetical fictions and +glorious myths of my childhood, that I dared to explore +or venture far into those same Genus-haunted hills.—<i>From +May Day Dreams, published 1890.</i></p> + + +<p class="ph3">FINIS.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span></p> + + + +<p class="ph4"><i>The price of</i> <span class="smcap">Happy Days</span> <i>in cloth is $1, +prepaid. Copies may be had by addressing +The Reed Publishing Company, 1756 Champa +Street, Denver, Colo. Remit by express or +post-office money order, bank draft or registered +letter.</i></p></div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="tnote"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_note">Transcriber’s note</h2> + + +<p>Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice. Hyphenation +has been standardized.</p> + +<p>Spelling was retained as in the original except for the following +changes:</p> + + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_iv">iv</a>: “Premit, therefore, this”</td> +<td class="tdl">“Permit, therefore, this”</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_ix">ix</a>: “felicitious, although”</td> +<td class="tdl">“felicitous, although”</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_48">48</a>: “God’s debator and ye”</td> +<td class="tdl">“God’s debater and ye”</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_48">48</a>: “Listern, ye doubting”</td> +<td class="tdl">“Listen, ye doubting”</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_69">69</a>: “a cottag Manitou”</td> +<td class="tdl">“a cottage at Manitou”</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_87">87</a>: “patriarchial trees of the”</td> +<td class="tdl">“patriarchal trees of the”</td> +</tr> +</table> + +</div> +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76651 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/76651-h/images/cover.jpg b/76651-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5aaa6fc --- /dev/null +++ b/76651-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/76651-h/images/frontis.jpg b/76651-h/images/frontis.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5ba8035 --- /dev/null +++ b/76651-h/images/frontis.jpg diff --git a/76651-h/images/titlepage.jpg b/76651-h/images/titlepage.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..505db98 --- /dev/null +++ b/76651-h/images/titlepage.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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