IV
Just a packet of letters a while ago you were,
Now in vaprous symphony of gray
I send you back to her,
For the spirit of true love that’s penned,
Must rise to meet her soul
In pearly glory ’round her head.
Love’s halo—is its goal.
To rake over the dead ashes of a burnt out love one must use the pen point of poetry.
THE LUTE
The lute, a barrier to song of soul.
For none save God
Can music charm
From out a thing man-made.
A bowl of wood,
A string or two to arm
The troubadour with weapon strong.
POWERLESS
When I see a look of sadness,
In the eyes of You,
Thoughts of grief akin to madness
Surge my being through.
Am I then so weak and helpless,
That I can not send
Even shadowings of sorrows
To their deserved end.
CAP AND BELLS
(To F.)
In Life’s masquerade the disguises are many:
Here’s a man masquerading as Wealth,
Wears a million of gold,
But a pauper, I’m told,
He hasn’t a penny of health.
Here comes a Beggar, in tatters and rags,
Masking as Poverty old.
He may look the part,
But the wealth in his heart,
Makes him richer than Croesus in gold.
The costumes are varied disguises beguiling
That cover the true man beneath
One wears learned looks,
That he’s borrowed from books
And a co-operative laurel wreath.
And still another pretending a clown,
In make-up the silliest Fool,
But his knowledge of men,
Is beyond the ken
Of a sage of the orthodox school.
There are millions of others in Life’s Motley Masque
Who follow the art of mime.
They mimic and play
At mockery today,
But they never fool Old Father Time.
PATCHWORK QUILT
A Patchwork Quilt,
Industrious name.
Once it was not quite the same.
A different fame,
A “Crazy Quilt,”
Same foolish dame
Entitled you.
It was sorry fame.
Life is like that,
We do not see
How little bits
Make harmony—
It’s up to man to take each bit
Of happiness and make it fit.
But if he takes and doesn’t dwell
Upon the pattern—Well, it’s Hell!
A crazy quilt the name’s O. K.
But start a patchwork quilt today.
(To A. M.)
The sky is the mirror that reflects all phases of Life. The clouds of Doubt bring showers, but there is always the “Silver Lining” promise.
Moral: If the sky is the limit better fix it clear in your mind to begin with.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF A PESSIMIST
I do not care for money made easily,
It is not lasting—I know.
I do not care for friends made easily,
They are not lasting—I know.
I do not care for anything that comes easily,
It never lasts—I know.
But I fell in love with you easily,
But, not lastingly—I know.
GEMS OF THOUGHT
| Diamonds | —Scintillating wit of sharpest ray |
| Emeralds | —Philosophy, growth in words today |
| Pearls | —Are the hymns of pity |
| Sapphires | —Songs of the skies |
| Rubies | —Are poems of passion |
| And love that never dies. |
(To C. F.)
The curtain is raised on the first act—the overture is over. We can play our parts. They say life’s a stage, but what a sad thing we have so few good stage managers. Our productions have more in the way of Costume and lack, so often, the right lines. Lines do count, not always words, but sympathy of thought is quite as necessary.
SYMPATHY
(To J.)
Sympathy is just as essential to the world as any other great attribute of good, but it must be sympathy in the right place.
Sympathy of thought has been the greatest lever in the machinery of mankind, but to sympathize with a weak nature sometimes breaks up his foundation. Know your subject.
Never withhold sympathy in loving one, but rather than sympathy, use encouragement as a tonic to tone up a weakling.
Kindly sympathetic interest is only another name for encouragement.
Never take away a prop without putting a stronger one in its place.
On a stretch of sandy beach I see naught of human presence, but upon looking closer, a remembrance of the past. I sit upon a rock and meditate upon what once was. I see myself in all the splendor of my youth. I see my boon companion—Hope, and one other one, whose name I’d best forget. We walked—Hope and I—but ever the unnamed one stalked by my side. I turned to gaze in fascination at my companion who speaks not, but forever stalks silently beside me. I finally forget my Hope to gaze in interest at the other. Hope, neglected, lags behind until we walk alone—myself and the unnamed one. We walk forever, but the walk brings us to the abyss of the world. What name has that one whose identity I fail to know? O, Eternity, thou art my sight and knowledge. It was Doubt, whose companion I became.
LABOR
On whose shoulders are the crosses held,
None can liken a laborer to him who bears the heavy-hearted thoughts.
What can I say—it is more laborious than many tasks,
Yet—’tis not task—
For task is given to be done
And ye are the cross bearers if ye will.
WEALTH
(To B. F. S.)
Treasures in the lowly casket that we call a brain,
Can jewels of the earth compare
With all that man finds hidden there?
The wealth of knowledge, that will lead a willing soul
Into a land of untold wonder,
Where will be the lasting goal
Of every seeking thought—
UNDERSTANDING
(To the Brother of Maris)
Maris of the golden eyes,
You in all innocence
Looked upon a lovely world
In wondering shyness.
Beauty beckoned,
Then turned the corner of another day
Leaving in her stead
An unknown one,
The stranger to light.
Maris of the saddened eyes,
In your pity,
Looking from another world
Have compassion on beauty
Who thoughtlessly turned away,
Leaving another in her place
The stranger to light.
HUNGER
I have journeyed toward the city
On the long, long road of Life,
I have learned how little Pity
Plays a speaking part in life.
I have learned that only Money
Is the voice that’s heard today,
Calling for God’s milk and honey,
Even Hunger has no say.
I have reached the city’s center
By the crooked road of Hell,
For Starvation’s been my mentor
And has taught her lesson well.
MONEY
Money—you Harlequin of the great masquerade of life.
You wear the dollar sign as your mask.
It may hide you—yes, for a time,
But when at last grim reality stalks into the midst of the festivities,
The mask is ruthlessly torn away, and then—is seen
The true expression hidden behind it—the cruel visage of discordant greed.
THE CHOICE
Words are jewels rare—
If need be
Words are sometimes fair
You heed me,
But our choosing makes them seem
The reflection of a dream.
Let us, therefore,
Choose in reason,
Whereby all that good is ours,
And by knowing rightful season
Pass forever—happy hours.
ITALY
(To Caruso)
The earth is earth—that is its worth,
To men who walk below.
But to the soul that seeks its goal,
Each land is all they know.
One calls it Home, another Heart, another Property,
But to the one who loves the sun
He calls it Italy.
ERIN
The green sod is red now—
Rebellion
The green sod is white now—
Purity
The green sod is blue now,
With truth
And the green sod is ever green,
It is growth—none can stop natural growth
Erin—land of dreams—Awaken.
BEES
The air is alive with buzzing bees
The little workers of destinies.
We grasp and strive to make our way,
Each life a hive and so our day
Is fraught with honey sweet, if we
Know all is good in destiny.
(To M. T.)
A certain lad had a long way to go, so he sat still and waited until—well, another lad also had a long way to go—so he hurried along and before long he received several gifts not to be sneezed at. No, they were not to be sneezed at, though I must say they made his eyes water a bit. The gifts were lovely little blisters on his pedal extremities, so he had to sit down and take care of his poor feet and in pain tarried, looking at his poor feet. Ah, yes, our other little lad took it very slowly, almost like the proverbial snail, but kept on the lookout and pretty soon a nice, comfortable wagon came along, and took the slow little boy for a nice ride, and the good little slow boy rode merrily by the poor little fast boy, who still sat nursing his blisters. He had really gone stepping on some little brimstones,—though he said they were pebbles. The good little slow boy turned back and put his hand to the poor little fast boy, but I regret to say he raised his digits to his nose—O, world where is thy sting.
Note—This is not a moral, it is only something that happens every day on our best trafficked roads.
IMPERIALISM
Oh, Mirror—most ungrateful ruler
Man has ever had.
We trembling bow to your decree,
But oh! ’Tis very sad
For all our great devotion
And concern in your behalf,
No matter how we worship you,
You just give us the laugh.
Though we may claim democracy,
You hold us like a slave.
The tyrant ruler of the world,
From cradle to the grave.
Pa Adam’s prize Apollos
Look to you (It is to laugh)
Their reward for faithful service,
Is Methuselah’s Epitaph.
RADIO
(To H. M.)
Radio of romance,
You
Broadcasting to the universe
All that is most blessed
In all things,
But to me alone
The melody of your Love
Flows through
The artery
Of time and Space,
For unity,
Can never know Division.
THE KALEIDOSCOPE OF LOVE
Synonyms and Antonyms
A—Adoration—Anticipation—Affinity—Arguments.
B—Beauty—Bliss—Bitterness—Bondage.
C—Caresses—Circumstances—Confidences—Charm.
D—Desire—Delusion—Dreams—Divorce.
E—Ecstacy—Engagement—Ego—End.
F—Fascination—Forgetfulness—Flattery—Faith.
G—Gossip—Gratitude—Gift—Goodbye.
H—Happiness—Honor—Heartache—Hell.
I—Intuition—Irony—Idolatry—Integrity.
J—Jealousy—Joy—Justice—June.
K—Kisses—Keepsakes—Knowledge—Kismet.
L—Lips—Loneliness—Logic—Longing.
M—Marriage—Morality—Money—Man.
N—No—Nearest—Novelty—Never.
O—Opposition—Own—Offering—Opulence.
P—Passion—Promise—Pride—Proposal.
Q—Quality—Quest—Queries—Quarrels.
R—Romance—Reveries—Realization—Remembrance.
S—Sympathy—Sacrifice—Shame—Settlement.
T—Thoughts—Truth—Temper—Tears.
U—Unkindness—Understanding—Uncertainty—Unfaithfulness.
V—Virtue—Vanity—Vows—Vengeance.
W—Wisdom—Wishes—Wedlock—Woman.
X—The Unknown—Love.
Y—Youth—Yearning—Yes—Yawn.
Z—Zenith—Zest—Zeal—Zero.
MEMORIAL
(To A. S. R.)
A Saint in a stained glass window,
To the memory of one
Who “lived the life,”
In sin and strife,
Is the epitome of fun.
A bit of colored crockery,
A picture wrought in glass,
His memory’s mockery
’Tis best to let it pass.
A Saint in a stained glass window,
A blest memorial true,
When it reflects the beauty of
The memory of you.
DUST TO DUST
I take a bone—I gaze at it in wonder—You, O bit of strength that was. In you today I see the whited sepulchre of nothingness—but you were the shaft that held the wagon of Life. Your strength held together the vehicle of Man until God called and the Soul answered.
LULLABY TREE
Cradle a thought on a bough of a tree,
Where it will swing so lazily,
Where it will gather to its heart
All in Nature’s lovely mart.
For every lovely living thing
Stops to talk by a tree and sing,
Of what has gone on that very day
In fields and forests far away.
If little thoughts hear happily
All that’s said about a tree,
They’ll grow to be so wise and true,
They’ll come back to the heart of you
Much stronger, grown in beauty free,
Because their cradle was a tree.
ADAGE
Happy childhood knows no sting
That the age of stealth doth bring.
Stealing hours from the day
Takes the joys of strength away.
Stealing hours from the Night
Taking all—for rest is Might.
When we steal away a Trust,
Nothing ever can we give
Back to him and so we must
Never Steal, but Give to Live.
FAITHFULNESS
(To Our Little Friend—The Dog)
A dog is the nearest approach to the sweet submissive spirit God would have in us, Faithfulness in the highest form. He only is faithful because he believes in you, as God would have us believe in Him.
REFLECTIONS AT RANDOM
(To A. T.)
Sing a song to the moon
Or sing a song to the sun
But just as long as you sing a song
Your day or night is well begun.
Woman, the unreasonable Reason for the Great Reason, which the sages call Life—Others not so knowing call it Love.
Faith—The Engagement—repartee of Love. Hope—Marriage—maybe its reply, but Charity—Divorce—is the retort courteous.
The wedding march or two-step, I should say, is only too often the lock-step.
Punishment is seldom unmerited, though we may not always see the cause.
It is unwise to doubt others when you are not sure of yourself.
Scientists are fools in some respects, I mean the so-called ones, for they ignore the science of all important things.
Friend is symbolical of Heaven, but some play Hell with it.
Fun is a healthy disease and is very contagious.
“May I intrude” is often substituted for “Do I intrude"—bores are not connoisseurs in the selection of verbs.
Make the best of what comes, for the best is coming.
The Great Divide is the division of thought which separates the Wise from the Fools.
Whatever has in it the element of restlessness is like the poison ivy plant; it causes rash and spasmodic movements, and after all the scratching the victim is worse off than before.
Worlds, and Worlds to live in, and so few do.
Care is helpful if we carefully care, but when we carelessly care, be careful.
Gossip—never related in the same way.
When you eat hash you do not always recognize the different kinds of meat in it, do you? So it is with Twice Told Tales.
We always prefer the most difficult way. It seems so much more important, but once we realize it, truth is always simplest when it is Truth.
It takes a hero to accuse no one, but take another’s accusation to his heart.
Love’s greatest expression is Service.
Eyes are living windows.
Into the garden we all go, but most are looking for the worm in the bud and never see the promise of the flower.
ART the very mockery of it
In a painted mask we sometimes call a face,
Alas, that pigment be so badly used
And artistry brought to much sad disgrace.
Take freedom but take care lest it take your liberty from you.
To be a humorist one must be concise, witty, but short-lived, for the good die young.
Cleverness—word most useful to the Bard
Who finds his pathway all beset with doubt,
For if we find his hidden meanings hard,
We call him “clever"—then he knows what we’re about.
Publicity is the keystone in the Arch of Triumph.
Money—pretender to the throne of all we most desire.
Doubt is the opposing influence of our lives.
Happiness, some never know as a lasting friend, but only as a bowing acquaintance.
Wifehood is a profession, but Womanhood is the Expression.
Faith is the oasis in our Desert of Lost Hope.
Given a chance to run in the Great Race, even a weakling can win if he wears the Armor of Courage.
Purpose in doing is the cornerstone of success.
Did anything ever build itself over night that was worthy the name Great Structure?
Loving service is more helpful than scholarly advice.
Friend—Most lovely word, akin to love, its dearest relation—might I say.
We dream of Greatness in humility, only to awaken to the greatness of Humility.
CO-OPERATION
O Just and Mighty Army of the World of Living Things
March on into the open heart of Man,
He needs a touch of nature with the sympathy it brings
In order to work out Life’s Perfect Plan.