Identity

The breezes waved the silver grass,
Waist-high along the siding,
And to the creek we ne’er could pass
Three boys on bare-back riding;
Beneath the sheoaks in the bend
The waterhole was brimming,
Do you remember yet, old friend,
The times we ‘went in swimming?’

The days we ‘played the wag’ from school,
Joys shared, and paid for singly,
The air was hot, the water cool,
And naked boys are kingly!
With mud for soap the sun to dry,
A well planned lie to stay us,
And dust well rubbed on neck and face
Lest cleanliness betray us.

And you’ll remember farmer Kutz,
Though scarcely for his bounty,
He leased a forty-acre block,
And thought he owned the county;
A farmer of the old world school,
That men grew hard and grim in,
He drew...

    If we don't or if we do.
    What's the odds to me and you?
    Fame is e'er a heartless jade,
    And her slaves are poorly paid;
    Weary hearts and soul's distress
    Are the prices of success;
    All our stations sadness view,--
    If we don't or if we do.

    If we don't or if we do,
    Our deservings will accrue;
    We must pay the fullest price,
    For each virtue and each vice,
    And each life for every thing
    Must an equal portion bring;
    Justice shall our deeds review,
    If we don't or if we do.

    If we don't or if we do,
    Fortune to our worth is true;
    Trophies that enshroud our clay,
    Scarce are worth the price we pay;
    Shame doth small endeavors share,
    Fame and glory, toil...

Ef dey 's anyt'ing dat riles me
An' jes' gits me out o' hitch,
Twell I want to tek my coat off,
So 's to r'ar an' t'ar an' pitch,
Hit's to see some ign'ant white man
'Mittin' dat owdacious sin--
Wen he want to cook a possum
Tekin' off de possum's skin.

W'y dey ain't no use in talkin',
Hit jes' hu'ts me to de hea't
Fu' to see dem foolish people
Th'owin' 'way de fines' pa't.
W'y, dat skin is jes' ez tendah
An' ez juicy ez kin be;
I knows all erbout de critter--
Hide an' haih--don't talk to me!

Possum skin is jes lak shoat skin;
Jes' you swinge an' scrope it down,
Tek a good sha'p knife an' sco' it,
Den you bake it good an' brown.
Huh-uh! honey, you 's so happy
Dat yo' thoughts is 'mos' a sin
When you 's settin' dah a-cha...

O Mystery of life,
That, after all our strife,
    Defeats, mistakes,
Just as, at last, we see
The road to victory,
    The tired heart breaks.

Just as the long years give
Knowledge of how to live,
    Life's end draws near;
As if, that gift being ours,
God needed our new powers
    In worlds elsewhere.

There, if the soul whose wings
Were won in suffering, springs
    To life anew,
Justice would have some room
For hope beyond the tomb,
    And mercy, too.

And since, without this dream
No light, no faintest gleam
    Answers our "why";
But earth and all its race
Must pass and leave no trace
    On that blind sky;

Shall reason close that door
On all we struggled for,
    Seal the soul's do...

    From top to pedestal you scan it lightly -
    Capped head to lettered base - and you are smiling.
    What see you there to set your lips a-quiver?
    An awkward figure cut from ugly granite,
    Aye, roughly hewn, as if unhelped by chisel,
    This peaceful man of war, sculptured grotesquely.
    Still - there is metal in the gun he is holding,
    And in the cannon balls piled up before him -
    The artist's symbols of a real soldier.
    Yet jeer no longer!
    Before you is a soldier of the Union,
    Crowned with the tears and prayers of many mourners.
    The Village set him here for all to honor,
    Here, in the centre of their foot-worn common,
    Where on long, summer evenings boys at baseball
    May gaze and gaze, and make him an example;
 ...

Your feet are as slender as hands, your hips, to me,
wide enough for the sweetest white girl’s envy:
to the wise artist your body is sweet and dear,
and your great velvet eyes black without peer.
In the hot blue lands where God gave you your nature
your task is to light a pipe for your master,
to fill up the vessels with cool fragrance
and chase the mosquitoes away when they dance,
and when dawn sings in the plane-trees, afar,
fetch bananas and pineapples from the bazaar.
All day your bare feet go where they wish
as you hum old lost melodies under your breath,
and when evening’s red cloak descends overhead
you lie down sweetly on a straw bed,
where humming birds fill your floating dreams,
as graceful and flowery as you it seems.

Happy child, why do you l...

It worn't for her winnin ways,
Nor for her bonny face
But shoo wor th' only lass we had,
An that quite alters th' case.

We'd two fine lads as yo need see,
An' weel we love 'em still;
But shoo war th' only lass we had,
An' we could spare her ill.

We call'd her bi mi mother's name,
It saanded sweet to me;
We little thowt ha varry sooin
Awr pet wod have to dee.

Aw used to watch her ivery day,
Just like a oppenin bud;
An' if aw couldn't see her change,
Aw fancied' at aw could.

Throo morn to neet her little tongue
Wor allus on a stir;
Awve heeard a deeal o' childer lisp,
But nooan at lispt like her.

Sho used to play all sooarts o' tricks,
'At childer shouldn't play;
But then, they wor soa nicely done,

Tall was young Wanâta, stronger than Heyóka's [16] giant form,
Laughed at flood and fire and hunger, faced the fiercest winter storm.
When Wakinyan [32] flashed and thundered, when Unktéhee raved and roared,
All but brave Wanâta wondered, and the gods with fear implored.
When the war-whoop shrill resounded, calling friends to meet the foe,
From the teepee swift he bounded, armed with polished lance and bow.
In the battle's din and clangor fast his fatal arrows flew,
Flashed his fiery eyes with anger, many a stealthy foe he slew.
Hunter swift was he and cunning, caught the beaver, slew the bear,
Overtook the roebuck running, dragged the panther from his lair.
Loved was he by many a maiden; many a dark eye glanced in vain;
Many a heart w...

From far, from eve and morning
And yon twelve-winded sky,
The stuff of life to knit me
Blew hither: here am I.

Now- for a breath I tarry
Nor yet disperse apart-
Take my hand quick and tell me,
What have you in your heart.

Speak now, and I will answer;
How shall I help you, say;
Ere to the wind's twelve quarters
I take my endless way.

Spinse amor e dolor ove ir non debbe.

REFLECTING THAT LAURA IS IN HEAVEN, HE REPENTS HIS EXCESSIVE GRIEF, AND IS CONSOLED.


    Sorrow and Love encouraged my poor tongue,
Discreet in sadness, where it should not go,
To speak of her for whom I burn'd and sung,
What, even were it true, 'twere wrong to show.
That blessèd saint my miserable state
Might surely soothe, and ease my spirit's strife,
Since she in heaven is now domesticate
With Him who ever ruled her heart in life.
Wherefore I am contented and consoled,
Nor would again in life her form behold;
Nay, I prefer to die, and live alone.
Fairer than ever to my mental eye,
I see her soaring with the angels high,
Before our Lord, her maker and my own.

MACGREGOR.


   ...

A proud Pasha was BAILEY BEN,
His wives were three, his tails were ten;
His form was dignified, but stout,
Men called him "Little Roundabout."

His Importance

Pale Pilgrims came from o'er the sea
To wait on PASHA BAILEY B.,
All bearing presents in a crowd,
For B. was poor as well as proud.

His Presents

They brought him onions strung on ropes,
And cold boiled beef, and telescopes,
And balls of string, and shrimps, and guns,
And chops, and tacks, and hats, and buns.

More of them

They brought him white kid gloves, and pails,
And candlesticks, and potted quails,
And capstan-bars, and scales and weights,
And ornaments for empty grates.

Why I mention these

My tale is not of these oh no!
I only m...

I took to khaki at a word,
And fashioned dreams of wonder.
I rode the great sea like a bird,
Chock full of blood and thunder.
I saw myself upon the field
Of battle, framed in glory,
Compelling stubborn foes to yield
As captives to my sword and shield,
This is another story.

We sat about in sun and sand,
We broke old Cairo's images,
Met here and there a swarthy band
In little, friendly scrimmages,
And here it is I start to kid
No Moslem born can hit me.
The Germ then that had long laid hid
Came out of Pharaoh's pyramid,
And covertly he bit me.

For some few days I wore an air
Of pensive introspection,
And then I curled down anywhere.
They whispered of infection,
And hoist me on two sticks as though
I bore the leper'...

O Mother Race! to thee I bring
This pledge of faith unwavering,
This tribute to thy glory.
I know the pangs which thou didst feel,
When Slavery crushed thee with its heel,
With thy dear blood all gory.

Sad days were those--ah, sad indeed!
But through the land the fruitful seed
Of better times was growing.
The plant of freedom upward sprung,
And spread its leaves so fresh and young--
Its blossoms now are blowing.

On every hand in this fair land,
Proud Ethiope's swarthy children stand
Beside their fairer neighbor;
The forests flee before their stroke,
Their hammers ring, their forges smoke,--
They stir in honest labour.

They tread the fields where honour calls;
Their voices sound through senate halls
In majesty and power.

I am Ojistoh, I am she, the wife
Of him whose name breathes bravery and life
And courage to the tribe that calls him chief.
I am Ojistoh, his white star, and he
Is land, and lake, and sky - and soul to me.

Ah! but they hated him, those Huron braves,
Him who had flung their warriors into graves,
Him who had crushed them underneath his heel,
Whose arm was iron, and whose heart was steel
To all - save me, Ojistoh, chosen wife
Of my great Mohawk, white star of his life.

Ah! but they hated him, and councilled long
With subtle witchcraft how to work him wrong;
How to avenge their dead, and strike him where
His pride was highest, and his fame most fair.
Their hearts grew weak as women at his name:
They dared no war-path since my Mohawk came
With ashe...

The breezes waved the silver grass,
Waist-high along the siding,
And to the creek we ne'er could pass
Three boys on bare-back riding;
Beneath the sheoaks in the bend
The waterhole was brimming,
Do you remember yet, old friend,
The times we "went in swimming"?

The days we "played the wag" from school,
Joys shared, and paid for singly,
The air was hot, the water cool,
And naked boys are kingly!
With mud for soap the sun to dry,
A well planned lie to stay us,
And dust well rubbed on neck and face
Lest cleanliness betray us.

And you'll remember farmer Kutz,
Though scarcely for his bounty,
He leased a forty-acre block,
And thought he owned the county;
A farmer of the old world school,
That grew men hard and grim in,
He drew...

Falling upon the frozen world last
I heard the slow beat of the Winter rain -
Poor foolish drops, down-dripping all in vain;
The ice-bound Earth but mocked their puny might,
Far better had the fixedness of white
And uncomplaining snows - which make no sign,
But coldly smile, when pitying moonbeams shine -
Concealed its sorrow from all human sight.
Long, long ago, in blurred and burdened years,
I learned the uselessness of uttered woe.
Though sinewy Fate deals her most skilful blow,
    I do not waste the gall now of my tears,
    But feed my pride upon its bitter, while
I look straight in the world's bold eyes, and smile.

From "Arion," an unpublished Masque

I


He. Aglai-a! Aglai-a!
            Sweet, awaken and be glad.
She. Who is this that calls Aglaia?
            Is it thou, my dearest lad?
He. 'Tis Arion, 'tis Arion,
            Who calls thee from sleep--
        From slumber who bids thee
        To follow and number
            His kids and his sheep.
She. Nay, leave to entreat me!
            If mother should spy on
        Us twain, she would beat me.
He. Then come, my love, come!
        And hide with Arion
            Where green woods are dumb!

She. Ar-i-on! Ar-i-on!
                Closer, list! I am afraid!

He. Whisper, then, thy love Arion,
                Fr...

I stood, unseen, within a sumptous room,
Where one clothed all in white sat silently.
So sweet his presence that a pure soft light
Rayed from him, and I saw--most wondrous sight!--
The Love of God shrined in the flesh once more,
And glowing softly like a misted sun.
His back was towards me. Had I seen his face
Methought I must have fallen. I was wrong.
The door flung wide. With hasty step
Came one in royal robes and all the pride
And pomp of majesty, and on his head
A helmet with an eagle poised for flight.
He stood amazed at sight of him in white,
His lips apart in haughty questioning.
But no words came. Breathless, he raised his hand
And gave salute as to a mightier lord,
And doffed his helm, and stood. And in his eyes I saw
The reflex glory of his Mast...