LITTLE TOWNS
BY
HENRIETTE CLARK
G. C. MANTHORNE & COMPANY
BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS
1935
[unnumbered page]
COPYRIGHT, 1934
BY
HENRIETTE CLARK
SECOND PRINTING, MARCH, 1935
PRINTED IN THE CITY OF PHILADELPHIA IN PENNSYLVANIA
IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA BY THE
HEYMANN PRINTING HOUSE
[unnumbered page]
Dedicated to the Trails of
My Island Home
[unnumbered page]
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
*
POETRY WORLD
MONTREAL STAR
CHOIR PRACTICE
CARMEL PINE CONE
FLUE DUST (Gary Post)
[unnumbered page]
CONTENTS
“I SAW IN MY DREAMS A WAVE”
10 | |
11 | |
12 | |
13 | |
14 | |
15 | |
16 | |
17 | |
18 | |
18 | |
19 | |
20 |
“TO GIVE US LIGHT”
22 | |
23 | |
24 | |
25 | |
25 | |
26 | |
27 | |
28 | |
29 | |
30 | |
31 | |
32 |
[unnumbered page]
“IN THE EMBERS ROAD”
34 | |
35 | |
35 | |
36 | |
36 | |
37 | |
38 | |
39 | |
39 | |
40 |
[unnumbered page]
“I SAW IN
MY DREAMS
A WAVE”
[illustration]
[unnumbered page]
UNREST
THE sheltered farm had always been her home
Yet in her dwelt no liking for the loam.
A visionary child, it always seemed,
Her real world, the fantasy she dreamed.
When, climbing long green hills she found the sea,
Came seething urge and longing to be free;
The courtships of the village lovers left her cold.
Could life go on like this till she was old,
And would she always long and hope in vain?
Within her blood there ran an alien strain. [page 10]
LITTLE TOWNS
ON gay mornings, foreign craft
Bring to the port their load
And the claque of wooden sabots sounds
Along the cobbled road.
Strange scents, strange tongues
Bring joy and mystery …
Little towns are never lonely
If they’re by the sea.
On grey mornings, old men sit
And rub tobacco in hardened hand
While telling tale of long ago
They look away from the land,
The youth of the village listens well
As they think of days to be …
Little towns are never lonely
If they’re by the sea.
Evening sunsets, afterglow
Long grey shadows creep,
As yellow sails of anchored fleet
Are molten gold in the deep;
And figures of lovers are patterned
And blended against the sky,
In the cool of evening scudding home
The native sea-birds fly.
Ah, hear the patter of children’s feet
As they fun the docks so free …
Little downs are never lonely
If they’re by the sea. [page 11]
TWO WOMEN
A WOMAN watched from her house on the hill
A trim ship in from sea,
Her three tall masts stood slim and straight
And an anchor hung at the lee.
The sunlight glistened upon her bow
And a dory floated astern,
While the tired heart of the farmer’s wife
For distant lands must yearn.
Oh, that I were the captain’s wife
Sailing a foreign sea,
And not tied down to home and sod
And a family of three.
* * *
From the deck of the ship the captain’s wife
Saw a cottage on the hill
And into her eyes came tears of grief
That life should prove so ill.
If I could live a life shore
Like that lucky farmer’s wife,
Far from the creak and roll of ships
I’d be happy all my life.
I’m sick of the sight of foriegn ports
And an island upon the sea,
With never a neighbor to chat and call
For an afternoon cup of tea. [page 12]
So the ship sailed out from the harbor calm
And two women waved farewell.
While neither knew of the sullen thoughts
That within each mind must dwell.
ADOLESCENCE
THE lad was watching the sea.
Long combers blue and green,
Gilded by the sun,
Advanced and receded;
One moment white foam filled
Rocky crevices, then
An outward swirl left them
Grey, barren and unsatisfied;
Adolescent yearning obsessed him.
On the shore he heard
The swish and crash of the waves
And further out a deep drone
Followed by a sonorous murmur;
The booming undertow left on the shore
Slimy bunches of yellow weed and purple kelp;
The boy’s unfathomed thoughts fared out
Beyond the distant breakers. [page 13]
A SQUARE PEG
AND she said once more, “You cannot go.”
Then he turned his face away
From beyond the rocks and the blue-green sea
Where a full-rigged vessel lay.
At the farm the house was neat and trim
With an orchard blooming near;
But today the whole place seemed to him
As if filled with drastic fear,
With a fear no more to take his place
At the wheel of outbound ships,
Or to know the breeze with stinging tang
As toward the lea she dips.
When he dug the earth the clods were waves,
In the sky, he saw a sail,
And he thought the hoe that burned his hands
Was a tiller through a gale.
In the early dawn he crept away,
She was left in her spoolwood bed;
And mile by mile, up hill, down dale,
He ran where the pathways led.
He signed on at once for foreign ports,
But he had agreed with fate …
Then the sea that now between them rolls
Would not be unmeasured hate. [page 14]
MOORED
SHE tugs her cables taut and strong
As the wind blows out to sea,
On high the sea-gulls screaming whirl
And strengthen her wish to be free.
She feels with pain the urge to sail
Far off from the town of her birth,
As day by day she creaks and strains
And longs for the ends of the earth.
Quite near the quay an office stands
Where a man with sea-blue eyes
Is watching the gulls in their noisy flight,
A flurry of wings on the skies.
He is stick of the sight of chair and desk,
He is longing for other lands,
For moon-drenched maidens pale and slim
And islands with coral sands.
A moment’s sin in years long past …
An unseen mooring holds him fast. [page 15]
DERELICT
IS it possible that I
Here in shallow waters lie,
Keeled to starboard on the sand
Far too near to be to land.
Three strong masts are misty white
Bleached by days of burning light;
Time indeed has done enough
But I’m made of stronger stuff
Than the other wrecks around,
Skeletons upon the sound.
Nothing but their shriveled bones
Through which tide-rip creeps and moans.
No, my hulk’s as strong to-day,
Strong as when the ladies day
Walked my decks with sailors bold
Telling tales of days of old,
Then my messroom heard a toast
Earth no finer one could boast.
Yes, it’s strange to think that I
Here in shallow waters lie,
I who sailed unfathomed seas
Should be lying here at ease. [page 16]
FOAM PHANTOM
I LIGHTED a match, but its feeble flame
Went out in a gust of the stormy squall
So I stepped in the lea of a fishing house
And tried another. I heard a call.
The match lit quickly and brightly burned,
Now where before had I seen that face?
My world around me suddenly crashed.
Who could ever forget such grace?
My heartbeat quickened at what I saw,
She was standing flat against the wall;
Around her face damp copper curls,
Like a bas-relief in a foreign stall.
The matey hurried me into the night;
I scarcely had time to make my ship.
Was it dreamed or real? By the lantern gleam
I saw a filmy kerchief dip.
What has changed me now they cannot tell,
The crew who jostle and wonder and leer;
They little know of a strong man’s soul
Filled with sedulous longing and fear.
For at night when on watch I pace the deck
And the pungent, stinging wind blows cool,
As I think of a wharf and a fishing shed
I curse myself for a fool. [page 17]
EXILE
THE hot dry wind comes over the plain
And its arid taste on my tongue
Bring neither the rest nor the peace I need,
It’s not long since I was young.
But far in the night when at last I sleep
I see in my dreams a wave,
With its height and coolness it succors me—
I have still a soul to save.
Then morning comes and another day
With its same Gethsemane
How long can I live for the night alone
Until death shall set me free?
PREMATURE
NO sea-gulls fly in the ice-bound bay.
They feel that Spring is not yet here;
And they follow the sea-craft far away,
Longing daily for harbor and pier.
Had I learned the wisdom of such a bird
As I glimpsed the white expanse of your soul
And not rushed on — your beauty lured,
As I saw in the future the ultimate goal—
Had I waited until the ice was away,
This chilly mist would not rise each day. [page 18]
WILD GEESE
(Song)
WILD geese flying together,
Flying to lands afar.
But we have parted, my love and I,
I know not where you are;
Under the spell of summer’s charm
I thought that you were mine,
Unseen magic ’round us both
Wove a charm sublime.
When the wild birds in the Spring return
Shall I find the answer for which I yearn?
Wild geese flying together,
Flying to lands unknown.
Dreaming and waiting night and day,
Longing for you alone.
High overhead they pass
Flying to fairer skies.
Is it, I wonder, for me alone that memory never dies.
When the wild birds in Spring return
Shall I find the answer for which I yearn? [page 19]
TWO NIGHTS
IN a luminous night a crystal moon
Cast its rays on a silver sea,
They shimmer there like a limpid wind
And beauty entrances me.
But I remember a night of storm
When the clouds rolls black on high;
And the waters below were thick with foam
While my answering voice was a sigh.
Yet the shriek of the storm was the song of my heart,
For my spirit leaped to its call,
As a blinding flame of lightning flashed
I was unified with it all.
For youth rejoices in nature’s strife;
In itself it’s akin to the bear
Of her stirring passions, noise and stress.
One who does not admit defeat.
On this quiet night I know the peace
Of a calm, enchanting sea …
And now I forget both storm and fire.
Where is that other me? [page 20]
“TO GIVE
US LIGHT”
[illustration]
[unnumbered page]
UNSEEN BLOSSOMS
OFTEN one sees and orchard blooming bright
With blossoms clustering gaily on its boughs,
Beneath the shade the spotted cattle browse,
All tended well with work and proud delight.
The trees upon this farm are gnarled and grey,
Alone the ghostly chimney stern and tall
Now stands, and unseen petals softly fall
Where once the children joined to laugh and play.
Now, sad in this deserted spot, we wait
And deeply think upon the vacant farms
From virgin forests won by stalwart arms.
Small spruce again grow over the estate.
Through endless days of fortitude and skill
These pioneers had worked with faith and pride
And trusting still in that same faith they died.
The thoughts of gallant days inspire us still. [page 22]
A VISIT
THE house had once been painted green with trimmings white,
But rain and storm of many years had changed the sight.
And now it stood forlorn and grey opon the hill
Uncurtained windows looking out, foreboding ill.
The picket fence had many palings torn away
And grinned with wildly demonic leer through weeds and hay.
We knocked upon the blistered door in darkening gloom.
And quick sharp footsteps echoed through the empty room;
Serene and dressed in silk we saw her standing near
The rustling poplars gave a sudden chill of fear;
We spoke and through unanswered eerie silence knew
And quickly took the narrow path all wet with dew.
Once there our hurried feet like frightened swallows flew. [page 23]
ARBUTUS
UP the high hill in ecstasy we race,
Then turn around to gaze below its height,
Where flowing brooks and pastures interlace,
Pleasing and cool in early morning light.
Above the mist-enveloped glen
We feel the influence of fairy wands;
Damp smell of woods and odors of fen,
Bits of soft moss and tiny green curled fronds.
In little valleys snow still lingers on,
And under prickly boughs of rugged spruce
The King of Winter’s marks are not yet gone;
The Princess Spring is asking now for truce.
Beside an ancient rotting stump we find
A dainty mystery rousing fresh delight,
The small arbutus blossoms are entwined
With clinging tendrils, hidden from the sight.
It does not even feel the chill of snows,
And often blooms beside a rivulet
Where Springtime’s vibrant opalescence flows.
With me its piquant odor lingers yet. [page 24]
SPRING
SMALL rivulets make crooked paths across streets
Recently covered with soiled snow,
The vapor arising from the sorrel ground
Exudes a steam of musty odors.
Across the way with heavy stooping figure
A foreign woman digs deftly
Into the tenacious loam,
Seeking a few edible roots
So mindful of the savory relish
Of her Homeland.
BLIND PIG
EVERY day he sits
Outdoors with his chair tipped back,
The same old derby
And cane; his small eyes blink,
Guarding a pig that is blind. [page 25]
SEASONS
TREES of brown and red and yellow
Flaunt their beauty beneath the skies,
Verdure far on distant hillsides
The thoughts of Autumn belies.
One vivid splurge on maple sapling
Flashes vermilion surprisingly bright,
Small but refulgent in sunset splendor
It bursts upon our sight.
To some heart that is crushed with loss and fear
Autumn has come though summer is here. [page 26]
MEN FISHING
I HAVE seen men fishing.
In the cool shade of the blue-shadowed hills
The water flowed over white-pebbles,
And the amber pools were hiding place for opal beauties,
The swish of a line, the gay trill of a bird on a sun-patterned tree,
Or the splash of a wary fish upstream were the only sounds.
I have seen men fishing for pleasure.
I have seen men fishing.
Off the Grand Banks, in the fog and cold
Men in dories, men hardy and strong, hauled in white-bellied cod.
The yellow boats rocked and rolled in the ocean swell
But work went steadfastly on.
As the fog lifted other craft came in sight,
Heavy laden with their silver prey managed deftly with rough hands.
While the rank air of the sea enveloped all.
I have seen men fishing for pay.
I have seen men fishing.
A grey line in a human queue passed down to the wharves;
Each shabbily dressed man carried a small can of bait,
All walked slowly. [page 27]
Sitting on the edge of a coal-blackened quay they fished for hours.
Sometimes a small fish was caught and pulled up
Where it flopped ungracefully over the rough boards.
No word was spoken, and sullen eyes were seldom listed to the cold chimneys across the bay.
The mills were closed.
I have seen men fishing for food.
TROUT POOL
BELOW a pastel-tinted sky
The trout brook flowed
Slowly over white pebbles.
Farther upstream deeper pools beckoned
Azure and cool.
Steep mountain-sides patterned
In brilliant maple and blue spruce
Resembled a rich tapestry.
The silence was broken only by the plunge
Of a heavy fish, the humming swirl of a line
Or the sharp staccato of bird calls. [page 28]
SOOT
IT was true, the plant was closed …
Smoke belched no more from the tall straight stacks,
It seemed impossible to get away from the sight
Of their cold reminder of want.
Relief—with always someone hungry till the soul
As well as the body grew shriveled and hopeless.
A man could not stay in the house.
A woman, remembering her anger at smoke-smeared clothes,
Now prayed for a smudge of soot. [page 29]
COAL MINERS
OUT of the bowels of earth they come,
Blackened and smoky and grim,
Climbing the slope for the shift is done;
They stand erect on the rim.
Strong and husky their muscles show
Under the coating of black;
And they stretch their arms and blink in the sun
And wonder if tallies are slack.
With lights that glitter on shabby caps
They go their way without talk;
Their heavy pit-boots caked with clay
Give a thudding sound to their walk.
They walk, and think as they thud along
Of days that are turned into night,
These men who slave in endless gloom
To give us light. [page 30]
BEAUTY SHOPPE
ALL day she toiled
Making beautiful the faces
Of other women,
Yet she herself was not beautiful.
Women of society demanded her services,
Knowing that with skilful fingers
She would smooth from faces the lines
Written there by trivial annoyances
And too much pursuing of pleasure’s gods.
It was not a lasting beauty
Yet it served for the time,
And they could return to her again …
Women being made beautiful,
Day after day,
By one who was beautiful
Only in spirit. [page 31]
THE MOTHER
(Poem written after reading “The Mother” by Pearl. S. Buck)
THE fields of rice in which she slaved
Were not unkind to her,
Her rhythmic body swayed with ease,
Her mind was all astir.
Soon she would know again the touch
Of coming baby hands;
Her time could not be far off now—
She looked across the land.
There undisturbed her husband lay
Content to watch her toil;
He never followed out the day,
It was she who tilled the soil.
From him it was she had her joy
And pride had lit her face;
So, kindled with thoughts like these, she seemed
United with all her race. [page 32]
“IN THE EMBERS’ RED”
[illustration]
[unnumbered page]
FIRESIDES
MY fireside is without charm tonight
For long ago you vanished from my sight;
But many recollections hide away
Where flickering lights and smoky shadows play.
I think of all the plans we made alone;
Around the eaves the wind sounds like a moan.
As now I sit, I watch the glowing flame
And in the embers’ red I see one name;
Grotesque and tiny forms march to and fro—
Dear heart of mine, return; I love you so.
Come before coals have died to ashy grey
And scattered far away. [page 34]
HER FIRST VISIT
I SHOULD remember better …
Streets and high buildings
Filled with a million sounds
And the stress of life.
But most clearly I recall
My grandmother,
Knitting rapidly bright-colored yarn
Or hulling large strawberries
With my aid.
And I can remember walking,
Clinging tightly to giant fingers;
Our steps made a sharp noise
On the pavement, as we hurried along
For ice cream.
THE PAST
THE sun threw burning streaks of light
On the stately copper samovar.
Days of Russian glory
Dreamed in a second-hand store. [page 35]
RAPIER BLADES
YEARS ago and often times forgotten
Was the message sent into the night.
The paper crackled as it was thrust furtively
Into its heavy parchment envelope.
Cold sweat was on your brow
Though the room was hot;
The odor of the wax came to your nostrils
As you sealed it,
Having signed away your honor.
All this returns with harsh, vivid detail
As someone closes a missive with a purple seal.
Memories roused by odors are keen
As rapier blades.
TWO MASTERS
I SAW in a case
Two crosses of ebony
Smalls things made by hand
And tipped with chaste gold.
Nearby lay two dice.
God and Mammon. [page 36]
VENEER
THE firelight threw
Long soft shadows
On the old mahogany chest and wide table,
The tall grandfather clock ticked pleasantly.
Grouped around the fire were several figures,
Women and men.
Their manner seemed refined;
Soft, clinging gowns of latest mode
Made beauty still more beautiful,
The odor of cigarettes mixed with costly perfumes.
All seemed waiting for something …
Suddenly from a corver of the room
A harsh voice cried:
… The champions of the ring
Are here tonight to strive with all their power
For the title of the world.
A right clip to the head
And then a smashing blow
Directed to a face already streaked with blood;
A swinging left-cut follows
A hard right hit below the heart …
Strange to think that in an age
Advanced in art and science,
A cultured group had met
To hear with unfeigned brutal lust
A prize fight. [page 37]
STRAIGHT STICK
IN the Spring through the forest her walk was quick
As she searched here and there for a straight grown stick;
When in Summer the forest lay hot in the sun
She still laboured on for her task not done;
For perfection is always hard to find,
Yet the thought of its promise obsessed all her mind.
Now she stands, while the winds of Autumn moan,
With regret as her gust in a field unsown. [page 38]
FÊTE DAY
ON other days in nature’s bloom and grace
I see the semblance of your comely face.
Beyond the bay the sun’s rich golden rays
Bring back the thought of other sacred days,
And in the colored maze of Autumn’s flame
Down through the shaded sloped I trace your name.
Today, perhaps because it was your fête,
I know I saw you standing by the gate
And I knew once more the brightness of your smile,
Remembered radiance stayed with me awhile,
Now down the path when Winter comes I know
This newborn faith will never let you go.
IMAGERY
YOU saw
Across the room,
I was one of the guests;
The other faded and we stood
Alone. [page 39]
AVE MARIA
NEAR convent walls on the terrace green
Gracefully Sisters walk to and fro,
Where the blue waters softly flow
Life still moves sedate and serene.
Placid and restful as though in a dream
Poplar leaves are heard to sigh
Over the river there comes a cry
Carried across the narrow stream.
An infant crying distinct and shrill
Comes to the ears of the stately nuns,
Thinking of youth and how fast time runs
Often these memories linger still.
Twilight fades and the day is long
Voices in Ave Maria ring;
Tired, the mother begins to sing,
Blended as one is the song. [page 40]
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