The Moon's the North Wind's Cooky
The Moon’s the North Wind’s cooky. He bites it, day by day, Until there’s but a rim of scraps That crumble all away. The South Wind is a baker. He kneads clouds in his
Look You, I'll Go Pray
Look you, I’ll go pray, My shame is crying, My soul is gray and faint, My faith is dying. Look you, I’ll go pray – “Sweet Mary, make me clean, Thou rainstorm of the
Concerning Emperors
I. GOD SEND THE REGICIDE Would that the lying rulers of the world Were brought to block for tyrannies abhorred. Would that the sword of Cromwell and the Lord, The sword of Joshua and
The Cornfields
The cornfields rise above mankind, Lifting white torches to the blue, Each season not ashamed to be Magnificently decked for you. What right have you to call them yours, And in brute lust of
The Dandelion
O DANDELION, rich and haughty, King of village flowers! Each day is coronation time, You have no humble hours. I like to see you bring a troop To beat the blue-grass spears, To scorn
Our Mother Pocahontas
(Note: – Pocahontas is buried at Gravesend, England.) “Pocahontas’ body, lovely as a poplar, sweet as a red haw in November or a pawpaw in May – did she wonder? does she remember –
The Song of the Garden-Toad
Down, down beneath the daisy beds, O hear the cries of pain! And moaning on the cinder-path They’re blind amid the rain. Can murmurs of the worms arise To higher hearts than mine? I
Star of My Heart
Star of my heart, I follow from afar. Sweet Love on high, lead on where shepherds are, Where Time is not, and only dreamers are. Star from of old, the Magi-Kings are dead And
The Ghosts of the Buffaloes
Last night at black midnight I woke with a cry, The windows were shaking, there was thunder on high, The floor was a-tremble, the door was a-jar, White fires, crimson fires, shone from afar.
The Firemen's Ball
SECTION ONE “Give the engines room, Give the engines room.” Louder, faster The little band-master Whips up the fluting, Hurries up the tooting. He thinks that he stands, [*] The reins in his hands,
When Bryan Speaks
When Bryan speaks, the town’s a hive. From miles around, the autos drive. The sparrow chirps. The rooster crows. The place is kicking and alive. When Bryan speaks, the bunting glows. The raw procession
The Drunkard's Funeral
“Yes,” said the sister with the little pinched face, The busy little sister with the funny little tract: – “This is the climax, the grand fifth act. There rides the proud, at the finish
Aladdin and the Jinn
“Bring me soft song,” said Aladdin. “This tailor-shop sings not at all. Chant me a word of the twilight, Of roses that mourn in the fall. Bring me a song like hashish That will
The Tale of the Tiger-Tree
A Fantasy, dedicated to the little poet Alice Oliver Henderson, ten years old. The Fantasy shows how tiger-hearts are the cause of war in all ages. It shows how the mammoth forces may be
To Mary Pickford
MOVING-PICTURE ACTRESS (On hearing she was leaving the moving-pictures for the stage.) Mary Pickford, doll divine, Year by year, and every day At the movmg-picture play, You have been my valentine. Once a free-limbed