Modernist Canadian Poets
20th Feb 2014Posted in: Modernist Canadian Poets
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My Sanctuary Garden
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MY SANCTUARY GARDEN
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Alice Elizabeth Wilson
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MY
SANCTUARY
GARDEN
By
ALICE
ELIZABETH
WILSON
McCLELLAND AND STEWART
PUBLISHERS — TORONTO
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COPYRIGHT, CANADA, 1937
by McCLELLAND & STEWART LIMITED, TORONTO
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To
All Holy and Beautiful things,
and in memory of Alice Elizabeth
Wilson, my beloved daughter,
companion and friend, this book of
collected poems is dedicated by her
mother.
ANNIE M. WILSON.
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Foreword
Poetic insight is a mysterious thing. This power called inspiration is one which is shared by all poets from the highest to the lowest. No one comes in contact with it without marvelling that its possessor can be so aware of unseen realities, so filled and uplifted by the certainty of eternal beauty manifested through material things.
Every community should welcome and encourage those gifted with that vision which sustains life, lest the spirit of a growing nation should be deadened by a materialism which fails to see—
“The Glory lying in a gold-cupped flower
Star-dust descending from blue depths serene,
The iridescent wings that quivering float—
To breathe the opening wonder of a rose.”
One whose eyes were ever open to such beauty—whose marked characteristic was always an intense love of birds, flowers, trees and all the beauties of nature, has passed into the Great Beyond, after a few years of work, literary and musical, given freely to all good causes.
Alice Elizabeth Wilson was born in Sherbrooke on December 11th, 1897 and died October 19th, 1934. Educated at private school, she later entered the Sherbrooke High School where she obtained, on leaving, an Associate of Arts certificate and two scholarships. [page vii]
She afterwards attended McGill University where she graduated in 1920 with the degree of Bachelor of Arts.
She travelled extensively, in Europe and on this continent, visiting many places of historic interest, afterwards embodying her experiences in vivid prose.
Always a keen student, she began her literary work early, publishing many children’s stories which were notable for their simplicity and purity of thought.
Indeed all her work bears the distinctive mark of directness of feeling and statement, while her descent from four generations of pioneer stock gave her an instinctive understanding of the struggles of the first settlers which had begun to inspire her poems and colour her plans for future prose works.
She had a great capacity for friendship, of the kind that gives generously and rejoices in the success and happiness of others. It is a pleasure, to one who had that friendship, to write a foreword to the poems, collected and published by her dearest friend—her mother, whose understanding sympathy in all her daughter’s efforts, gave unfailing strength and encouragement to Alice Elizabeth Wilson’s life work.
Her personal and religious life was never pressed into the foreground of her intercourse with the world, but was—as she herself expressed it—“My Sanctuary Garden”, in which all simple thoughts of beauty grew into expression. [page viii]
The fatal illness which attacked her in the spring of 1934, put an end to her literary work and culminated in her death in the autumn.
Had she been spared to fulfil her early promise and continued growth in power and beauty of expression—to quote our great poet Marjorie Pickthall—
“I would have given you others gifts than this—
Songs and clear days, and little dreams fulfilled,
But rest is His,
And rest is all He willed.”
As she lay in her pale grey casket, under the candlelight, surrounded by flowers, wrapped in the folds of an exquisite white lace veil, the gift of a dead friend—the lines of the same poet came to mind.—
“O, looked she sad or seemed she glad?
Most like a star, that knows
Only the loveliness it had,
The light to which it goes.”
MINNIE HALLOWELL BOWEN.[page ix]
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The Funeral of
ALICE ELIZABETH WILSON
October 21st, 1934.
A beautiful and significant thing took place as the funeral cortege passed down Montreal St. An Elm Tree Suddenly shed all its yellow leaves, which drifted down, in a golden shower, upon the hearse, leaving the branches bare.
Like gentle fingers pushing back the gloom, Tall tapers, in the candelabra, shed Their yellow light about the music room, Upon the coffin where the quiet Dead Lay robed in flowers; white lilies, roses red Swathed her in fragrance. Harmony unheard, From chords she loved, the quickened silence stirred With immortality — above a head Its snow of years in mortal anguish bowed Beneath a sorrow that no words could tell; Apart, in sacred moments from the crowd, Bidding the joy of spring a last farewell. A Tree there was, that understood of God,— The love of birds and flowers, all growing things Uplifting from the cling of shrouding sod Takes thought of men to heaven on soaring wings,— And one, whose soul of beauty ever sings, Attains to it, in some mysterious way; Now, as she passed within a casket grey [page xi] To her last rest—a tribute worthy Kings Came from the Elm upon her! Leaves of gold— A shining shower of blessing, softly fell, Each one a promise of sure joy untold;— The heart of Nature bidding her farewell.
MINNIE HALLOWELL BOWEN. [page xii]
CONTENTS
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[page xv]
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My Sanctuary Garden
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Vision of Youth
COULD man but turn and be a boy again, To walk with sandalled feet through childhood days, How quickly would his nimble youth regain Time-hidden haunts, forgotten little ways That fashioned age. Small hands would reach for toys That filled the happy hours, on pleasure bent, With lilting laughter and mechanic noise; Bright eyes would watch, with ever grave intent, Unfathomed depths or brim with trembling tears That ebbed with strength; dim hopes would gather weight And scamper through the intervening years Beside the sturdy form of constant Fate, Till life, far-flung in distant worlds, would seem To bring fulfilment of an early dream. [page 1]
Poetic Impression
“CONSOLATION”
Song Without Words – – MENDELSSOHN, Op. 30. No. 3.
“DUSK”—Reverie
SOFTLY the winds whisper in the trees
—then cease.
Far o’er the mountain the evening sun is sinking, Flame upon flame arises but to die; High in the heavens, where dusk is slowly falling, Stars faintly gleam and deepen with the night; Birds, hastening home, their little mates are calling, Wing with delight, fluttering round the silent trees where are deftly hidden nests so neatly woven Now they are gone and my fancy is straying to a primrose [page 2] Opening to breathe its beauty to the air. Joy fills my heart! Rapture returns! Peace comes with dusk to rest the weary soul. Softly the winds whisper in the trees —then cease. [page 3]
Poetic Impression
La Fille Aux Cheveux de Lin—(DEBUSSY)
Once in a wood, by the edge of a stream, where the ferns nestle close to the rocks, And the stalwart trees swaying to the soft breeze, Pattern shadows that run with the light of the sun as it chases its beams through the glen—down to the lea, sweeping on—out towards the sea. There I saw on the white cooling sand, such a maid— with flowing hair that seemed but threads of gold that Fate had spun from magic fleece, to flaunt its glory in the face of the sun. Blue were her eyes and her lips were as red as a rose, as she leaned to touch their bloom to the stream, [page 4] and to sip the sparkling depths of the springs, while her hair spread in a wave like a silken floss. Then, in pensive mood, swiftly she waded where the reeds were in a great profusion growing, Plucked a stem and blew its hollow husk in sound, Soft was the note like a throb from the throat of a bird singing love to its mate. Then flinging far the flute, she wildly danced upon the sand like one whom Pan had taught to sway in rhythmic joy, ‘Till like a sprite that rides the wind, she fled from my sight— away— away—. [page 5]
Musical Impression
Antique Gavotte—by GOSSEC
CLOSE within the shelter of a castle-wall, Music sweetly echoes through an ancient hall; Daintily the dancers circle to and fro, Stepping in turn with a pointed toe. Here a haughty baron, with a furrowed frown, Greets a wealthy matron in a silken gown, While a gallant laddie, with a twinkling eye, Whispers to a maiden as she passes by. One—two—three—four—steadily they swing, Forward—backward—to the merry music’s lilting ring ‘Till each man, smiling his pleasure, Bows for a measure As the minstrels pause—to permit applause. Then, while the aged couples sit and talk, Youth steals discreetly to the garden-walk, There, in the shadows kneeling, Dreams of the heart revealing, Now love warm lips are sealing In a vow. Merrily the dancers trip it to and fro, Gracefully they curtsy in a double row; Madam to the baron gives a jewelled hand, He bows obedience to her command; Youth returns to linger in a long good-night, Even though the stars are paling in their light, ‘Till when the last reveller has gone his way, Dawn has streaked the Eastern sky with shades of day. [page 6]
Hail, O Royal Victoria College
(Set to tune of “Gaudeamus”.)
First Prize College song in 1920 competition.
THERE’S a College of McGill Nestling ‘neath the same old hill. (Repeat) May we always love her truly Give her always honour duly Hail, O Royal Victoria, Hail, O Royal Victoria. Now we sing to thee our praise; Laud and honour duly raise. (Repeat) Through the years new voices singing Keep thy name forever ringing. Hail, O Royal Victoria, Hail, O Royal Victoria.
Copyright 1921 by the Students’ Council of McGill University.[page 7]
Life
A LIFE, within itself, is as a day, Each dawn is birth unfolding to the morn, Each dusk is death as darkness dims the way Of earthly age. A day is duly born A beauteous thing; what fitful fortune spills Upon the sands of time, the glass will show, As in the crystal globe, the hour fills The destined depths that quickly come and go. One hour is dark; wild, wailing winds arise With rumbling rains that drip with dismal sound; Another softly breaks with sunny skies That shed a brightening beam upon the ground; Yet each is needful; each, with plenteous grace, Is planned to find and fill a proper place. [page 8]
Invocation
SWEET song caress me with a gentle kiss Upon the lips, to fill my heart with bliss, And touch the magic chords that will inspire My voice to meet each melody’s desire. Teach me an airy tune that breathes of spring Or tells of singing bird upon the wing, And then in sombre, minor tones portray The deeper darkness of a winter’s day. Give me the power to lift the harrowed mind From out itself, and lead it on to find The greater things of life expressed in love, And turn its tender thoughts to God above. [page 9]
Thoughts
A HUSH hangs heavy on the hills to-day, Expectant of the autumn’s passing soon; Like burning dryads, in a massed array, The trees are standing in the silent noon, And Massawippi’s waters calmly lie A mirror to the clouds that softly tread The steep ascending stairway of the sky. What if the coming winds will soon be cold, And snow will cover with a cloak of white, To-day the scenes of beauty must unfold A warmth of vision in the quiet sight! Let forward thoughts upon the future cease, Enjoy the present in its perfect peace. [page 10]
Silver Slippers
IN an old leather trunk In a dark attic-corner, With delicate fingers I touch a secret treasure. Only a pair of slippers— But Time turns swiftly back On flying feet, Dancing, dancing Into the realms of a fancy To the rhythm of a waltz. Strong arms once more enfold me Closer, closer, The warmth of a nearness, Heart beating to heart, Re-kindles a rapture, Brief, Far too brief in its living. A pair of silver slippers Tear-stained and worn— Yet only in death Will memory cease mocking them Dancing, dancing Into the realms of a fancy To the rhythm of a waltz. [page 11]
Grief
HOW trivial Is petty grief, And yet How like a ready thorn To pierce the timid flesh. The rose of life Is fair When lightly touched, But if the soul Aspires to its possession, Then, The wounding thrust Of each companion thorn Sinks to the heart, Blinding the eyes To beauty’s worth, If beauty must Be bathed in tears. [page 12]
Fame
FAME sat upon a throne Of beaten gold and precious jewels, Receiving homage from her court Of craving souls, contending fools Bent low in worship of their God. Full reverently they knelt and touched Her silken robe, while with their lips They chanted graceful eulogies, Their words well savoured with deep dips In Wisdom’s ever flowing font. But Fame unheeding turned to look Upon a distant glowing dais Where Love and Beauty held their court With happy youth and in her gaze Was wistful longing and regret.[page 13]
Books
I LOVE the silent friends that come to me
From printed pages of an open book.—
Old friends, with souls outspread in sympathy,
Whose phantom eyes meet mine with patient look
As thought pursues a lofty phrase. New friends,
That strive with wealth of written words to hold
The interest of a world that lightly lends
But little ear. Brave minds, both new and old,
Revealing visions of the inner self
To help mankind obtain a vaster view,
Their works are legions, lined upon a shelf,
With shields of amber, rose and goblin-blue.—
I touch each cover with a gentle hand,
A gesture very few could understand. [page 14]
Soft Moonlight on the Snow
SOFT moonlight on the snow, and memory Unveils the dusk that dims the shadowed scene; A symbol of the dreams that used to be, Faint hopes re-born to boast what might have been. How far the rosary of time returns Upon the outstrung years! Each precious bead Is legend of a tender thought that burns Within the silver glow. In vain I heed The phantom host that slowly passes by, Frail faces, fashioned from an airy cloud, Descending in a vision from the sky. Then, suddenly forlorn, I call aloud, For, in the misty depths, there grows anew A strangely sweet remembering of you. [page 15]
Destiny
EACH rose upon the bush Within the bud is fair, It only waits to burst Its beauty in the air. But if the galling worm Pervades the rose’s heart, Ah, then in blighted bloom The tattered petals part. And thus within our lives, The soul is like a rose, Sweet childhood seldom dreams What fortune will unclose. [page 16]
Petals
SOFTLY down the ever changing way Of life a maiden passed in virgin white, Her eyes deep blue as heaven all alight With tender glow and ardent as the ray Of sun which played on golden hair made gay By winds, a rival to the blossoms bright With diamond dew which she with great delight Held fast within her arms from day to day. Yet from those blossoms petals fell behind And they who followed found them painted deep With worldly deeds, some rashly torn apart By her cold hands in dark despair to find The truth and some laid gently down to keep As sweet remembrance of a maiden’s heart. [page 17]
If
IF sunsets are but fragile mists That rise to meet the fading light, Sinking with the languid sun Upon the purple couch of night; If stars are but reflected suns That burn upon the mystic way, Dimming when the ghostly night Steals from the threshold of the day; If fragrance is but passing breath Of ambrose from a flower’s heart, Dying with the tender bloom, As tattered petals slowly part; What then of love —Is it as mist, As fragrance or a silver star That fills the soul with moment bliss Then leaves it thus and wanders far? [page 18]
Sunset On Lake Massawippi
THE green hills darken with the shades of night, The sunset floods the sky with flames of light, The lake quiescent lies and softly glows With hues the over-hanging heaven throws. Along the shore, the purple fireweed stand Like wanton ghosts that rise from ashen land; White butterflies, with buoyant wings outspread, Drift slowly round a honeyed primrose-head, And hemlocks hang their heavy branches low Above the bank where crimson berries grow. No sound within the fragrant air is heard Beyond the breathless chirping of a bird, That dips its feathers at the water’s edge Then plumes itself upon a rocky ledge. Can this be earth — this silent mystic place, Or is the dusk reflecting higher grace, To lift in ecstasy the weary hearts That droop with tired hands as day departs? [page 19]
Northern Lights
ALL heaven is ablaze to-night with stars As though in festive garb, while in the north The sky is filled with mystic shrouded hosts Of glowing figures flitting back and forth. They seem like risen spirits of the dead Arrayed in great procession round the Throne, Tuning their praises to the measured beat Of silver cymbals and the harp’s sweet tone. Dumbly I stand, but in my aching heart A cry goes out to join that happy band And with them bow my head in lowliness To gain a blessing from the Saviour’s hand. [page 20]
October Days
THE maple leaves are turning To golden and to red, While down the silent valley The singing-birds are fled. The clematis and bracken Are tinged a rusty brown, And aging winds are bearing Small tufts of thistle-down. Above the withered clover The humming bees are still, The dying sunset lingers Upon a distant hill. And in a quiet garden The broken blooms abound With seeds in countless numbers To scatter on the ground. Where life throughout the winter Awaits the gentle rain That frees the frozen furrows And warms the earth again. [page 21]
Wind
MYSTERIOUS mover of the lucid air, Arising from an ever changing source, To sometimes blow up with a mighty gust And sweep the storm clouds forward in their course, Proclaimed by noisy bands of whirling leaves Torn from the limbs of supplicating trees; And sometimes wafting down on quiet wing To touch frail blossoms with a gentle breeze Of cool the labouring brow of sun-kissed earth, Filling the fragrant air with wistful sound Of softest murmurings which seem to me Like angel voices whispering timidly. [page 22]
The Plum Tree
THE plum tree spread herself with pride White blossoms decking every bough Like a little girl who vainly Nods and smiles the livelong day When she is wearing something new. But the wind, a roguish little boy Had spied the plum tree’s ecstasy, And creeping through the quiet air He shook her limbs with fiendish glee And pursed his lips and blew and blew. In vain the plum tree bent and swayed To save her many cherished flowers, But the playful wind was not content Until soft petals whirled in showers And where they sailed we never knew. [page 23]
Out of The Dusk
(A Song)
OUT of the gathering dusk I heard The sweet soft music of a bird, Calling, calling, To his little mate above Pouring out his tender love. Into the deepening dusk I sang, My song in plaintive echo rang Calling, calling, All the loving thoughts I knew Over the darkening hills to you.[page 24]
Canada
A COUNTRY stretching out from sea to sea, Abounding in vast forests, lakes and mines, In fancy like a far flung tapestry The Master hand has traced in rich designs That loving sons might weave it with the best Of honest labour, filling in each part With noble deeds displayed from east to west In highest forms of industry and art. Weave on, brave countrymen, that all the world May know the masterpiece of work begun By our proud fathers when they first unfurled Their standard in this land so hardly won, Is yet advancing to a greater fame As each year adds fresh honours to its name. [page 25]
Three Canadians
(Approaching Quebec)
The Indian Maiden.
UPON the silver waters of the great St. Lawrence, An Indian maiden floated in her birch canoe, And ever raised her eyes from rushing, gleaming torrents To hill-side forests where the moon came peeping through. Then quickly sped her glance to where the fires were red Upon a fortress carved of stone by nature’s hand, The maiden sighed and raising high her paddle said, “Oh Mighty Spirits, smile forever on this land.” The Early Settler. Up the great St. Lawrence came a little ship Full rigged with sails and armed with stalwart men and guns, High in the bow a woman, eager and white-lipped, Gazed with fear and wonder at the setting sun. Then as she viewed the darkening shores and massive hills, She lifted up her hands to heaven and softly prayed, “Give me strength oh Lord to do thy utmost will In this new country where our home is to be made.”[page 26] Canadian Born. Up the river crept the liner with the tide, Bearing men and merchandise from foreign lands, Upon the deck a woman gazed with glowing pride At well known shores and tree-clad hills on either hand, Then as the towering cliffs and ancient fort drew nigh, And tugs came circling round the ship and whistles blew, She clasped her hands with happiness and softly cried, “My Canada! Thank God, I have come home to you.” [page 27]
A Quaint Little Garden
I WALKED in a garden, a quaint little garden, Surrounded by hedges of thorn, The birds were all singing Their sweet voices ringing Like chime bells greeting the morn. There grew in that garden, that quaint little garden, Lilies, lovely and tall, And big red roses and little blue posies And daisies brighter than all. I found in that garden, that quaint little garden, True love waiting for me, And of all the flowers in that fairy-like bower, No one was sweeter than she. [page 28]
The Little New Moon
(Song)
WHENEVER the little new moon comes out And floats in the heavenly sea, There’s always someone who sees it first And cries with ecstasy. Chorus. Have you seen the little new moon to-night? It’s way up there in the sky, And near and far The silver stars Are drifting slowly by, Oh! Have you seen the little new moon to-night? It’s way up there in the sky. Now if there’s something you want very much And you hope it will come true, Just wish on the little new moon to-night And she will give it to you. Chorus. Have you seen the little new moon to-night? It’s way up there in the sky, And near and far The silver stars Are drifting slowly by, Oh! Have you seen the little new moon to-night? It’s way up there in the sky. [page 29]
An Autumn Night
THIN ivy clings about the dripping eaves, The chilly fog hangs low upon the street, In fitful gusts, the dying autumn leaves Are tumbling down; with dull, unsteady beat, The raindrops fall upon the glistening walk; Above, the air is vibrant with the cries Of birds that gather in a fluttering flock, Then wing their weary way to southern skies. I close the window on this weeping night, And crouch within the firelight’s cheerful glow; Then leaning closer to the flickering light, I read a poet’s words, to ease the woe That mournful autumn brings—Ah, silent friend, What comfort to a lonely soul you lend! [page 30]
Thunderstorm
THE storm king rose up from his couch And flung a great black sack of rain Across his back, then stooping down He lit his monstrous pipe again, Blowing out a puff which sent Billowy smoke clouds flying high And chains of deadly sparks which flashed In lightening streaks across the sky. Then grumbling in a thunderous tone He summoned winds and with them strode Above the earth to shower rain And make the moon and stars which rode In peaceful splendour through the night, Snuff out their flaunting lights until His pent-up fury spent itself And all the quivering air was still. [page 31]
Spring
SPRING came floating through the air In a ship of glorious sheen, From the land of the moon with its gardens fair, O’er an ocean of silver beams. The breezes wafted her on beyond Where the fairies piped sweet tunes, The hill-sides touched by her magic wand, Awoke and sprang into bloom, I watched her building her works of art With her brightly coloured train, Then something stirred in my aching heart That bid me hope again. [page 32]
To A Violet
SWEET violet, raise your modest head From the sheltering folds of your mossy bed, Lift to the heavens your wistful eye Catching the blue of the April sky. The sun is shining through lacy trees Warming the breath of an errant breeze, And the moon will flow with subtle grace To silver the top of your tiny face. The clouds are wandering to and fro, Brimming with mist for the earth below, Which the friendly wind, with his finger-tips, Will waft in a drop to your dainty lips. So open your heart to the morning sun, Drink the delight of a day begun, Then drowsily close with a dream at night, Wrapped in a beam of the moon’s soft light.[page 33]
In The Attic On A Rainy Day
I LOVE to climb the attic stair And creep into a quiet nook Beneath the eaves to stoop and look At old-time things, at broken toys, (Sweet remnants of my childhood joys) At bits of lace and faded flowers And clocks which tick no more the hours And then I sit in Grandma’s chair, Lulled by the gently falling rain Upon the roof, to dream again Of bygone says which seem to be Set forth in gallant pageantry. [page 34]
Snow Flakes
SNOW-FLAKES flying in the air, Frost on the window pane, Gone are the flowers rare, Winter has come again. The birds sweet voice is still, Horses neigh in the lane, The traveller hurries up the hill, Winter has come again. The North wind howls about the door, The fires their glows retain, The black cat crouches on the floor, Winter has come again. [page 35]
The Birch Tree
BUT yester-night the silver birch-tree stood Upon the threshold of a drowsing wood, Its slender arms, encased in snowy white, Uplifted calmly to the starry height. And now the cruel storm has left its mark, The wind blows wildly through the tattered bark, The tender, broken limbs are hanging bare In grim surrender to the ruthless air. I have a kindly feeling for this tree, I touch its wounds with gentle sympathy, For when, long since, I stood in muted grief Its quiet beauty brought me cool relief. [page 36]
Cape Trinity
O THREEFOLD rock whose mighty form abides In deep, dark waters of the Saguenay, Cathedral of the hills whose burnished sides Reflect the glory of the sun by day And nightly gleam with silver from the moon, Within whose hidden depths an organ stands With gaping pipes full set to echo tune To thunder’s roar or siren’s taunt demands. The Sculptor’s hand has carved you to remain A monument to time, revered by all Who come like pilgrims to a shrine to gain Redemption from the dull, drab scenes which call Them with a worldly lure to empty arms And blind their eyes to nature’s countless charms. [page 37]
Wonder
YOUR eyes — deep, crystal pools Of wonder are, With love reflecting Like a golden star. Your lips — two crimson petals, Softly twine To yield in fragrance As they cling to mine. Your heart — a wistful bird Come home to rest With folded wings Against my yearning breast.[page 38]
“Shadows”
UP in the sky the full moon’s light Sheds its beams into the night Drawing life’s pictures in shadows below Casting it all on a carpet of snow. Shadows of the naked trees Traced like spidery filigree, House shadows, grotesque and thin Smoke blotches, grayish and dim. Shadows of lovers in the lane Quick to grow and then to wane, Life is but a shadow ever to the fore Rising, falling, then seen no more. [page 39]
Lullaby
CALMLY the moon Shines in the night Flooding the world With silvery light. Soft from the shadows Echo sweet notes Lullabies flowing From feathered throats. Whispering tree-tops Join the refrain Swaying in rhythm Again and again, ‘Till in her wisdom Nature it seems Lulls us to slumber Woven with dreams. [page 40]
Wistful
I WISH that I could run away Into a quiet wood to rest Beneath the gently swaying trees, And listen to a bird whose nest Is hidden near. And then perhaps I’d come across a sunny place Where violets grow, and picking one, Find comfort in its tiny face. [page 41]
My Dream Garden
I HAVE a kingdom of my own—a dream garden— Enclosed by a high strong wall O’er which my sentry “Happy Thought” stands warden, And a thousand wishes answer to his call, Within, rarest flowers outvie each other In color and glory. Feathered fairies Pipe magic tunes from secret cover To which the dancing water nymphs make merry. No one enters, unless perchance it be A fancy, bent on bringing smiles to lips and gladness to the eye, Ugly frowns are banished, that I may see Only God’s sunshine o’er my garden sky.[page 42]
The After-Glow
JET black landscape fringed with trees Chiselled against the sky, Behind, The sunset’s coral pink Blending upward into vivid blue, Above, A few dim stars Striving to throw their deepening glow Into the waters beneath. [page 43]
To An Evening Primrose
EVENING primrose, modest flower, Blooming in the twilight hour, Like a maiden in a tower Hidden in her dainty bower From the glances of the sun ‘Till the eager day is done. But when gentle night comes stealing Petalled heads in slumber sealing, Then the maid with ardent feeling Flings the casement wide revealing Her pale beauty to the moon Who climbs the heights in silver shoon. [page 44]
A Trembling Moth
A TREMBLING moth Against the pane, Pursues the guarded Light in vain. A lonely rose Among its leaves, In scented silence, Romance weaves. So must my heart A secret hold, And bear the pangs Of love untold. [page 45]
Captivity
OH chide me not because I choose to be A slave to nature’s charms—You cannot know The pure delights of such captivity; Is there for you no magic in the snow That wraps the sleeping hills in glittering shrouds? Or do you never wonder at the sight Of sunset-tinted wisps of scurrying clouds That slip beyond the clutching hand of night? If in these charms; if in the hush of morn, Or moonlight flooding spotless winter-fields, I find contentment and a love fresh-born For nature and the beauty that it yields, Then chide me not because I choose to stay A captive ruled by nature’s potent sway. [page 46]
In Idle Mood
O WHAT care I If I can lie Beneath an azure painted sky And watch the clouds go floating by. My life is sweet But so replete That happy moments are too fleet, And cruel time will not repeat. So while I may Have holiday, Upon this beach I choose to stay Until those clouds have passed away. [page 47]
Gypsy Leaves
AN autumn wind, with fiendish glee, Blows the leaves from a maple-tree, Sweeps them off their tiny feet And bears them swiftly down the street. Then the merry little fellows, Some in reds and some in yellows, Start in dancing, glancing, prancing, In a fashion most entrancing, Like a joyous gypsy band Romping in the meadow land. I cry, ‘Oh leaves so gay and free, Stop, oh stop, and wait for me, For I would join your happy throng And with the wind be borne along.’ But the merry little fellows, Some in reds and some in yellows, Keep on dancing, glancing, prancing, In a fashion most entrancing, Like a joyous gypsy band Romping in the meadow land. [page 48]
I Heard A Mocking-Bird
I HEARD a mocking-bird to-day In our old apple tree, He seemed to lift his little head And sing of you to me. I gazed upon a pretty flower Its petals tipped with dew, And breathed a fragrance from its depths That made me think of you. It filled my heart with happy thoughts I fancied you were near To raise your trembling lips to mine And sigh, “I love you dear.” [page 49]
When I Sing
WHEN I sing of flowers and springtime, My song is blithe and gay, With a feeling of warmth and sunshine That comes with the month of May. When I sing of deepening shadows And dreary winter days, My song is touched with sadness That takes all hope away. But when I sing of love, dear, My song rings deep and true, It comes from the depths of my heart, dear. For I’m singing it just to you. [page 50]
Love Is Like A Crimson Rose
LOVE is like a crimson rose in bud, Which, poised upon its stem, is warmed to yield Its blushing petals one by one until The beauty of its depths is soon revealed. But shaken by an adverse wind, it breaks And hangs its tender head upon the stalk, Till crushed and withering, it falls to lie A helpless, tattered thing upon the walk. I should have left it there upon the ground And let its bleeding petals slowly die, But now, embedded deep within my heart, The lingering, longing thought will ever lie. [page 51]
To My Mother
SIT close beside me in the old arm-chair And let the firelight gleam upon your hair, Caress your glowing cheek and gently fold Its warmth about you like a cloak of gold. Then talk in tender tones — your voice to me Is music, soft and full of sympathy, As when a cellist tunes his art to bring A note of rhythm on a muted string. In silence I shall gaze as though to find A way to press your image on my mind, So when in lonely hours you are not here, I may, in fancy, picture you as near. [page 52]
Over The Hills
OVER the hills on silent wings The rain comes softly down, Spreading a veil of silver mist Over the quiet town. It wraps about my cottage door Like a cloak of mystic weave, Dripping with familiar sound From the over-brimming eave. It fills my soul with restlessness, It stirs old memories, Echoing a fond farewell Beneath tall maple trees. Oh, could I don that cloak of rain And fly on misty wings, I’d whisper to your listening heart The old forgotten things.[page 53]
A Golden Leaf Afloat
A GOLDEN leaf afloat Upon a quiet stream, Is symbol of a ship Embarked upon a dream. It sails uncharted ways, Its harbour is unknown, It drifts upon the wave A mystic wind has blown. And yet if I should spy That ship upon my sea, I’d know the wistful wind Was wafting you to me. Then I would call you close, And from the silent shore, Together in that ship We’d sail forevermore. [page 54]
Wind In The Wood
WIND in the wild wood Blow out to sea, Blow on a white ship And bring it to me. My lover is fishing Far on the bay, He sailed in a schooner At breaking of day. And here in a cottage Close by the shore, With hearth-glowing fires And latch off the door, I wait for my laddie’s Returning to-night, Eagerly scanning His coming in sight. So wind in the wild wood Blow out to sea, Bring, in the white ship, My lover to me. [page 55]
Roundel
I’M loving you, when in your eyes, A welcome smiles from depths of blue, And something in your soul replies, “I’m loving you.” Then sunshine shades the shadows through, The dreary darkness dulls and dies, And love upleaps to life anew. Yet in my heart, where vision lies, Cruel courage keeps the tongue untrue, And passion, pulsed in pain, denies I’m loving you. [page 56]
Narcissus
NARCISSUS, white as the driven snow Upon the wind set free, Star-like, you symbolize the soul Outspread in purity.
I Shall Sing My Songs
I SHALL sing my songs in secret, Away from the babbling world Where scorners sit as critics, Their lips sarcastically curled. I shall go to a lonely hill-top Where only the wind will be, I shall give to the friendly darkness The rhythm arising in me. For there in the starry stillness, The simplest thought will find A perfect understanding In a Vast, Invisible Mind. [page 57]
Contentment
WHAT if the winter months are long, What if the winds are cold and strong, My house is warm, my hearth is bright With kindled fires to cheer the night. If I can settle in a nook, If I can read a friendly book Where simple souls in modest measure Are yielding me a secret treasure, There I’m content though winds are strong And winter months are cold and long. [page 58]
If In My Music
IF in my music I could gain The gentle rhythm of the rain, I’d sound the notes in sweet strain. If I could mould my gayest mirth To be as sunshine on the earth, I’d kindle joy of deeper worth. Then both the music and the smile Would linger in the heart awhile And lend to love a greater guile. [page 59]
Storm
STORM on the hills, The cold, white snow Veils the vast heights From the valley below. Enclosed in a cottage, Chilling warm life, Fate feeds a heart On miserable strife. Storm in a soul, The state of a mind Thrusting the rights Of reason behind. And though on the hills The storm wings away, Stealing as swiftly As night leaving day, Yet tumult of passion Though softened by tears Remains to remind Innumerable years.[page 60]
Little Brown Bird
LITTLE brown bird Singing in a tree, What tempted you to build Your nest so near to me? Was it the water Clear and fresh and cool And almost over-brimming The edges of a pool? Was it the fir-tree Thick and dark and tall, Or the flies about the flowers That grace the garden-wall? Or was it because God in his wisdom knew That sometimes in the shadows My soul has need of you? [page 61]
Retrospect
A DEAR old-fashioned lady — I can see her still, So neatly dressed in black, About the neck a frill Of snowy white, and round Her shoulders lay a shawl Of precious paisley. Near The window, in the hall, That overlooks the land, She’d placed an old armchair, And from its depths she gazed Without in constant stare. I stood in silence, for Her dim blue eyes I knew Beheld, not fields well furrowed As the harvest grew, Not trim wire fences bordering On the hard, smooth roads, Or bleating thoroughbreds That tumbled by in loads, But thick, dark forests, tall And close, and only thin About the clearing where They’d put the cabin in; [page 62] A winding path that led Discreetly towards the hill Where yokes of heavy oxen Grazed with lazy will; And she,—a girl again, Now raising finger-tips Instinctively to toss A kiss from youthful lips To William, labouring near, His tender eyes aglow With ardour as he swung Each tree a severing blow. And as her heart went on The pathway where he led, She saw his courage burn A flame above his head. [page 63]
Fragrance
LIKE some sweet fragrance on the wind You came to me, A breath of beauty from afar Affinity. I breathed the glory of the gift, My heart was gay, The clouds that dimmed the rising sun Were swept away. I looked on life with laughing eyes, The world was new And filled with wonders to be seen And things to do. Until, at length, as when the wind Blows sweetness by, We parted and the light leaves stirred In wistful sigh. And I have seen the world again In sombre hue That only shades of tender thought Have broken through. [page 64]
Oh Holy Babe
OH Holy Babe, whose wondrous birth Spread peace and joy upon the earth, Who, in a cradle roughly wrought, Received the gifts the Wise Men brought, Will whispered words of simple prayer Be carried with a gentle care? Oh Master of the worldly mind, True Teacher of a vast mankind, Whose miracles and passion gave New life to those you came to save, Will tidings of a piteous plea On angel wings be borne to Thee? O King of Kings, around whose Throne Triumphant choirs their praise intone, And cymbals clash, with ceaseless din, Proclaiming victory over sin, Will breathing of a wistful sigh Be echoed in a sound on high? [page 65]
Christmas Bells
PEAL loudly, Christmas bells, and rouse The sleeping world from sinful ways; Strike to the soul and make the heart Resound the echo of your praise Of Him who came on earth to save And promised life beyond the grave; Swing to the winds all bitter scorn, Ring out the truth this happy morn. [page 66]
To A Friend
MEN’S minds will manifestly richer be Because your soul has cleft its earthly chain Of fear to fight for truth; a force to free The anguished form of beauty from disdain. Now sun and stars will burn with brighter gleam To searching eyes unbound from blinding dark; The timid touch of gentle rain will seem More soft upon the cheek; the soaring lark Will sing a sweeter song in purer air; The wind will whisper with a wooing sound To listening ears; white petal nymphs will wear Small elfin wings to waft them to the ground, And deeds will gather strength as vision grows In gazing at the beauty of a rose. [page 67]
Summer Night
THE moon is rising through the summer night, It floods the garden-path with silver beams; Look, now each nodding flower-head is bright With dewy gems that glint with tiny gleams; Beyond the gate, two fluttering maple-trees Throw graceful shadows on the glossy ground; With sweetly tempered breath, the evening breeze Is gently blowing summer incense round. Hark how from far away is faintly heard Throughout the hush, a soft ecstatic note, Which comes enchanted from a drowsy bird That fills with song its lightly throbbing throat. Oh, could a night so full of beauty hold A touch of sadness in its peaceful fold? [page 68]
Two Pictures
MORNING… Happy little boy With sunny morning smile, Come over through the garden gate And talk with me a while. Evening… Sleepy little boy With tousled curly head, Close up that fascinating book And go upstairs to bed. [page 69]
A Musician’s Wish
TO strike a note And have it ring Like crystal water From a spring: Deep in colour As the sun, That floods the West When day is done; And true as love Throughout the years Of laughter’s joys And sorrow’s tears.[page 70]
Winter-Thaw
SOFTLY through the night an East wind crept Upon the sleeping winter, blowing round To loose the captive earth from cruel cold, And breathe a balmy breath upon the ground. Then stealthily the drowsy spruces stirred To slip the snowy burdens from their backs, And naked trees dropped crystals from their limbs To eager streamlets in their deepening tracks. Awakened by the tears of icicles, The wrinkled winter wrathfully arose, With bitter winds and snows, he racked the trees And numbed the shivering earth until it froze. [page 71]
A Cradle Song
OH baby, close your drowsy eyes For night is darkening in the skies, The silver stars will twinkle soon And slowly sail beside the moon. The pretty flowers you found to-day Have coyly tucked their heads away, And the little birds that sang for you Are silent now, the whole night through. The friendly sun has gone to rest, It sank within the sheltering West, And the wind is crooning in a tree. A cradle song for you and me. So listen to my lullaby, In gentle slumber softly lie, And while you wander in sweet sleep, Above your bed my watch I’ll keep. [page 72]
A Flurry Of Snow-Flakes
A FLURRY of snow-flakes Came through the air, Blown by the North wind, Here and there. They tossed and tumbled Up and down, And did the most amazing things Without a sound, Then some of them lit on the edge of a roof And some on the branch of a tree, And while I stood there watching them A few of them fell on me. [page 73]
To Sleep
SWEET sleep enfold me in your gentle arms And rock me like a little child to rest, For I am very tired and fain would have My earthly cares depart at your behest. Lull me with dreams to fill my aching heart With happiness and if the dawn must bring But gruesome pain again, then let me stay Forever in the shelter of your wing. [page 74]
Nocturne
AFTER a day of stifling heat, I sit on a rustic garden seat, To rest and cool Myself in night’s refreshing breeze, Which trembles in the eager trees, And watch the thunderstorms that lighten In the Western skies and brighten Every pool. Then from a cottage down the lane, A cello speaks in peaceful strain Of melody. If fills my thirst soul like wine Pressed from the fruit of some mystic vine, Even as the coming rain will seem To every shrunken little stream Or panting tree. [page 75]
A Valentine
IT matters little that the chilling rain Beats wild tattoo upon the window-pane, Or moaning winds arise with dismal sound To scatter shivering leaves upon the ground, If you and I may sit in sweet content Beside the fire and your loved instrument. The haunting, soothing melodies you play Weave us a mystic kingdom far away From firelit room and noisy rain, where we May wander down the paths of memory And linger with our thoughts until it seems We find the sweet fulfilment of our dreams. It matters little that the chilling rain Beats wild tattoo upon the window-pane, Or moaning winds arise with dismal sound To scatter shivering leaves upon the ground, If you and I may sit beside the fire, Communing with the muse of our desire. [page 76]
In The Hayfield
COME with me, we’ll go together In this pleasant summer weather To a field where we can play By a mound of new-mown hay. There like children we will wander Up and down or stop to ponder On the simple joys around, Stretching ourselves upon the ground To watch the bees hang sadly over Fallen heads of scented clover, While a mottled butterfly Spreads sails above us in the sky. Then we’ll hail the winds with laughter Asking what they’re chasing after, Or reach our hands without a care To fling sweet hay high in the air, Breathing its fragrance which will never From our sense completely sever, But will linger ever near To cheer us through another year.[page 77]
Night Rapture
WHEN night comes over the hills to hush The weary world to rest, And the bluebird spreads his dainty wings To seek his airy nest, I stand alone on the garden path Among the fragrant flowers, Unmindful of unfinished work Or the passing of the hours. Thinking only of the charm Of such a summer night, Watching the moon and stars appear With ever deepening light. I listen to the whispering trees Whose voices rise and fall, And strain my ears to hear again The lonely night bird’s call. Then with rapture comes the thought How wondrous it would be. If you were on the garden path To share it all with me. [page 78]
Intertwinement
WHEN sun-kissed morning calls to me From wind-blown field Where gay larks sing While on the wing And nodding daisies to the bee Their honey yield. When moon-lit evening beckons me From quiet stream Where silver star Is mirrored far And lilies floating peacefully In splendour gleam. My heart is filled with thoughts of you For night and day Your love and mine Will intertwine With beauty ever old and new Upon the way. [page 79]
Fantasy
A HOST of clouds assembled in the sky, Rolling, tossing, tumbling in their haste To scatter downy snowflakes through the air Until the earth beneath was warmly cased In robes of softest eiderdown. Then the moon Peeped through a rift and shed her silver light Upon the scene — a dazzling winterland. The clouds spun round and round with great delight, Scurrying here and there until the sun In slumber, hearing of this vast ado, Rose slowly up to see it for himself. He touched the magic sight with rosy hue, Then climbing higher, bent his piercing rays To melt the snow and show his deep disdain. The clouds looked on in anger and despair, Then fled to other parts to weep in rain. [page 80]
Triolet
IF I should wish on every star That twinkles in the evening sky, My wish would travel very far If I should wish on every star; Yet nothing in the world could bar My thoughts from going up so high If I should wish on every star That twinkles in the evening sky. [page 81]
A Sunbeam
A SUNBEAM peeped behind a cloud, It ventured forth and then it vowed To see the beauties of the earth And rouse the world to joy and mirth. It danced o’er hills, down mountain sides, It scattered shadows far and wide, It gave to flowers an added hue And sparkles made on waters blue. It pierced the branches of a tree And fairly scrambled through to see The features of a face I love, Then vanished in a cloud above.[page 82]
A Fancy
I WAKENED and saw a garden Of beautiful flowers. Half dreaming It seemed — That I walked among those dainty blooms Breathing their fragrance. I opened my eyes again To look — Not at the lovely garden But on beyond where wintry snows Vanquished my dream. And then I knew — My garden of beautiful flowers Was only a coloured picture Hanging on the wall. [page 83]
The Answer
TWO soft brown eyes, A wistful smile, Eagerly asking, Is life worth while? The answer falters Upon my lips — I stoop and kiss Her finger-tips, Trusting that love Would somehow try To give this maid The right reply. [page 84]
Canadian Spruce Trees In Winter
UPON a hillside brightened by the moon, I saw a row of spruce that seemed to be Enchanted black-robed giants bound to earth Until some mystic sign should set them free. They stood knee-deep in soft and sparkling snow, Their high cocked hats and drooping outstretched arms Bedecked with richest ermine, all agleam With veils of diamonds to enhance the charm. I stood spellbound and even as I looked Expected drums’ alarm to reach my ears, When all those tethered ghosts would spring to life, March quickly o’er the hills and disappear. [page 85]
Roundel
A DRAGON-FLY, with dusky wings, In daring dips goes deftly by, And weighs upon a weed that swings A dragon-fly. Then peacefully its pinions lie, As closely to the weed it clings And downward bends a bulging eye. In idle thought on earthly things, My mind is moved to wonder why A weed of wavering weakness swings A dragon-fly.[page 86]
Stalactite Caves—Bermuda
WHAT fairy-world is this beneath the ground? What phantom souls have worked this wonderland? Look how like trees upon a glistening mound, The many-coloured jewelled columns stand! And here an angel’s wing, devoutly spread, Unfurls a shadow on the lake below; And there a wistful cherub lifts its head To hear an over-hanging trumpet blow; Across the lake, a stately castle-tower Recalls an age of ancient chivalry, With ghostly maidens, in a hidden bower, Awaiting ships that sail a mystic sea. If tears of earth can make this beauty live, What splendour then could human sorrow give! [page 87]
Lone-Pine Rock
WITH endless rush, the rapid river flows About a barren rock, wave washed and grey; A rock so rugged that no verdure grows Upon its surface, save where sly decay Has cleft a crevice. There a pine-tree stows Its roots and rears, in evergreen array, Soft, sweeping limbs the north wind wildly blows And bends submissive to its blustering sway. Yet strangely does this stubborn rock abound In legend. Still the tongues of Time re-tell Of rival braves that ran about the base Of Lone-Pine Rock. To gain a hunting ground Was rich reward, and to the victor fell The destined homeland of a dauntless race. [page 88]
To A Teacher—M.J.M.
TO find a place in life for doing good, Yet seeking not a path to bring you fame, And hoping only for an honest name, You chose a worthy means of livelihood, Which led to where you soon were understood As one whose mind was filled with steadfast aim To put all cowardly deceit to shame; A noble teacher who, with hardihood, Taught careless youth to seek a higher cause, And ever fought beside them gallantly, Then wonder not that such example draws From sons and daughters, whereso’er they be, But grateful admiration and applause In honour to your name and memory. [page 89]
Campaign Song For Victorian Order Of Nurses
IN and out about the town, A little car runs up and down To bear a busy nurse in blue Wherever there is work to do. A nurse who comforts in distress And points the way to happiness, Her cheerful smile for anxious mother, Father, sister, little brother, Lightens every weary heart And gains a welcome for her art. Now if the V.O.N. should ask That you assist her in her task, I hope a happy day will bring Your chance to do some little thing. For she’s a nurse who comforts in distress And points the way to happiness, Her cheerful smile for anxious mother, Father, sister, little brother, Lightens every weary heart And gains a welcome for her art. [page 90]
The Hermit At Blue Point
THE hermit stood beside his rugged shack Alone, with but the thud of his great axe To break the gloomy silence when it split The tender, gaping stumps of silver birch. Often he raised his hand to brush aside The shaggy hair which curled about his face As if to hide the suffering in those eyes That lived again the half forgotten days. A rumour had it that when he was young, Handsome, gay, and rich, he loved a maid And wooed her with an ardent heart until She proved untrue and turned his love to scorn. He loved and lost and lost not only love But money, health and all his self respect, And so this poor demented soul became The relic of the man he might have been. [page 91]
The Sugaring-Off
THE sugar camp stood on the edge of a hill Surrounded by maple trees The smoke wound up from its chimney top As if waving a welcome to me. Great piles of wood cut ready for use Stood fresh from the busy axe. Nearby large buckets filled full of snow Awaited the golden wax. Inside the camp was a cloud of steam Enwrapping a busy figure, Then out of it all old Pierre came forth With a bucket of melted sugar. He spread the wax out on the soft white snow And handed us paddles of wood Then he bad us eat to our heart’s content But not to eat more than we should. [page 92]
Resurrection
THE burning depths that yield the light of day Are dim to Death. His hollow eyes behold The sun’s deep, dauntless disc of flaming gold With scorn. Then stumbling on his weary way, He slowly wanders through the world to lay His hand upon the life of one grown old, Or on a yearning youth, with dreams untold, Whose manhood might an earthly nation sway. Yet quiet life within a leafless tree Is freshened into bud and bloom once more, And darkest night draws back with dusky grace At dawn — so, veiled in vast Eternity, The soul shall live, and Death shall bow before The glorious brightness of the Holy Face. [page 93]
The Quest
DOWN the dusty, dreary street
Outside my cottage door,
There came a queer old fashioned man
I’d never seen before.
His hair hung white beneath a cap
His eyes were misty blue,
His coat was torn and dusty shoes
Had worn completely through.
He walked with hesitating step
And leaned upon a cane
To cast a furtive glance about
As though to search again
Among the many passers by
For someone he held dear,
A loved one he’d been looking for
Through many a weary year.
. . . . . .
Hoping to hear a wondrous tale
I hailed him with a call
And bid him enter in to rest
Within my lowly hall.[page 94]
He came without a word and sat
Beside the open fire,
Munching the food I spread for him
With obvious desire.
. . . . . .
When he had finished his repast
I ventured near to say,
‘You’re a stranger in these parts
What brings you down our way?’
‘I’m travelling round the world,’ he said,
‘Upon a curious quest,
I’m trying to find a faithful friend
Before I go to rest.
I’m looking for an honest friend
With heart that I can trust,
Not one who rises like a flower
To crumble back to dust.
I’ve seen them grow upon my breath
As fragile bubbles do,
To break when the occasion comes
That I would have them true.
I want a friend who like a rock
Is steady and secure,
A jewel precious as the sun
Whose endless age is sure.[page 95]
And though I’ve been from East to West
By land and sea and air,
I have not found a single one
Who really seems to care.’
. . . . . .
‘It’s strange,’ I said, ‘in all these years
You’ve never found a friend,
Now I have one who goes with me
Wherever I may wend.’
He gazed at me in wonderment
And begged me to proceed,
So I told him of the One I knew
As friend in every need.
He pondered for awhile then said,
‘I’ve heard of Him before,
But only in a ribald way
From men who cursed and swore.
I like this friend of whom you speak,
I feel I know Him too,
I’ve found what I’ve been looking for
All thanks my friend to you.’
He placed his hands upon his breast
And slowly bowed his head,
And when I looked at him again
I saw the man was dead. [page 96]
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