* A Distributed Proofreaders Canada eBook * This eBook is made available at no cost and with very few restrictions. These restrictions apply only if (1) you make a change in the eBook (other than alteration for different display devices), or (2) you are making commercial use of the eBook. If either of these conditions applies, please contact a https://www.fadedpage.com administrator before proceeding. Thousands more FREE eBooks are available at https://www.fadedpage.com. This work is in the Canadian public domain, but may be under copyright in some countries. If you live outside Canada, check your country's copyright laws. IF THE BOOK IS UNDER COPYRIGHT IN YOUR COUNTRY, DO NOT DOWNLOAD OR REDISTRIBUTE THIS FILE. Title: My Nugget-Poke Date of first publication: 1947 Author: Donald A. Fraser Date first posted: Apr. 21, 2019 Date last updated: Apr. 21, 2019 Faded Page eBook #20190467 This eBook was produced by: Al Haines & the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net MY NUGGET-POKE _A Selection of Sonnets and Other Short Poems_ _By_ DONALD A. FRASER Donald A. Fraser 314 Huntington Place Victoria, B.C. [Illustration: Donald A. Fraser] _Index_ A Altar-Smoke 78 A Lesson 60 A Market-Place 19 Among The Douglas Firs 57 A Million Stars 103 An April Morning 26 Asia 34 At Dundarave 59 At Grantfort 77 At Quebec 37 April's Tears 62 Arbutus 23 Arietta 85 Autumn Leaves 86 Autumn Rain 35 B Bethlehems 65 Browning 41 C Centenary 66 Columbus 29 Crusaders 42 D Despair 72 Doorways 82 Dream Castle 74 E Eaves 81 Electricity 36 Exaltation 17 F Fling Wide The Doors 92 Freedom 83 G Georges 33 Gladioli 53 Golden Sunshine 64 Grain Elevators 73 H Halifax 21 Hats 93 Harp Of Tara 84 I I Promise You 87 In a Library 30 In a Washington Forest 49 In an Indian Village 58 In God's Cathedral 47 In Memoriam (C. Mair) 39 In Piacenza 94 J January 10 Joy and Sorrow 27 Jerusalem 67 L Lawns 80 Longfellow 55 Love's Rose 95 Love's Tourney 13 M My Books 54 My Castle 50 My Highway 89 My Homeland Canada 97 N Night 11 November 88 O O Canada! 91 O Land of Mine! 31 On Cannon Beach 107 Outpost 16 P Pebbles 52 Poverty 99 Printing 71 Q Questions 79 R Realization 63 Repentance 100 Roses 102 S September 18 Stand Fast, Canada! 108 Stars 79 T The Adventurer 56 The Altar and The Gift 9 The Broom 45 The Broom in Beacon Hill 101 The Building 45 The Bust of Shakespeare 15 The Crown Imperial 24 The Doctor 43 The Douglas Fir 14 The Devastator 48 The Duke of Cornwall and York 12 The Evening Sacrifice 28 The Grand Adventuring 46 The Old Road 40 The Rose of Glamis 32 The Linotype 70 The Robin and The Rowan Tree 90 The School Elms 105 The Song Sublime 104 The Sun Bather 75 Timbers 76 To a Bust of Shakespeare 15 To Charles Mair 38 To Lucile 96 To Memory 22 To My Pen 68 To The Typewriter 69 V Vancouver 20 Victoria In Victoria 51 Victoria To Halifax 25 W Wheat 44 Y Youth And Love 106 _Table of Contents_ I. The Altar and the Gift 9 II. January 10 III. Night 11 IV. The Duke of Cornwall and York 12 V. Love's Tourney 13 VI. The Douglas Fir 14 VII. To A Bust of Shakespeare 15 VIII. Outpost 16 IX. Exultation 17 X. September 18 XI. A Market-Place 19 XII. Vancouver 20 XIII. Halifax 21 XIV. To Memory 22 XV. Arbutus 23 XVI. The Crown Imperial 24 XVII. Victoria to Halifax 25 XVIII. An April Morning 26 XIX. Joy and Sorrow 27 XX. The Evening Sacrifice 28 XXI. Columbus 29 XXII. In a Library 30 XXIII. O Land Of Mine 31 XXIV. The Rose of Glamis 32 XXV. Georges 33 XXVI. Asia 34 XXVII. Autumn Rain 35 XXVIII. Electricity 36 XXIX. At Quebec 37 XXX. To Charles Mair 38 XXXI. In Memoriam 39 XXXII. The Old Road 40 XXXIII. Browning 41 XXXIV. Crusaders 42 XXXV. The Doctor 43 XXXVI. Wheat 44 XXXVII. The Building 45 XXXVIII. The Grand Adventure 46 XXXIX. In God's Cathedral 47 XI. The Devastator 48 XII. In a Washington Forest 49 XLII. My Castle 50 XLIII. Victoria In Victoria 51 XLIV. Pebbles 52 XLV. Gladioli 53 XLVI. My Books 54 XLVII. Longfellow 55 XLVIII. The Adventurer 56 XLIX. Among The Douglas Firs 57 L. In An Indian Village 58 LI. At Dundarave 59 LII. A Lesson 60 LIII. My Homeland 61 LIV. April's Tears 62 LV. Realization 63 LVI. Golden Sunshine 64 LVII. Bethlehems 65 LVIII. Centenary 66 LIX. Jerusalem 67 LX. To My Pen 68 LXI. To The Typewriter 69 LXII. The Linotype 70 LXIII. Printing 71 LXIV. Despair 72 LXV. Grain Elevators 73 LXVI. Dream Castle 74 LXVII. The Sun Bather 75 LXVIII. Timbers 76 LXIX. At Grantfort 77 LXX. Altar Smoke 78 LXXI. Stars 79 LXXII. Questions 79 LXXIII. Lawns 80 LXXIV. Eaves 81 LXXV. Doorways 82 LXXVI. Freedom 83 LXXVII. Harp of Tara 84 LXXVIII. Arietta 85 LXXIX. Autumn Leaves 86 LXXX. I Promise You 87 LXXXI. November 88 LXXXII. My Highway 89 LXXXIII. The Robin and The Rowan Tree 90 LXXXIV. O Canada! 91 LXXXV. Fling Wide the Doors to Christmas 92 LXXXVI. Hats 93 LXXXVII. In Piacenza 94 LXXXVIII. Love's Rose 95 LXXXIX. To Lucile 96 XC. My Homeland, Canada 97 XCI. Poverty 99 XCII. Repentance 100 XCIII. The Broom on Beacon Hill 101 XCIV. Roses 102 XCV. A Million Stars 103 XCVI. The Song Sublime 104 XCVII. The School Elms 105 XCVIII. Youth and Love 106 XCIX. On Cannon Beach 107 C. Stand Fast, Canada 108 THE SONNET A good sonnet may be considered as one of the choicest jewels in a poet's casket of literary treasures. As a poetic form, the sonnet began its career in the Middle Ages, deriving its name from the Italian word _sonneto_--a little sound. The first poet to use the poetic form was Piero delle Vigne, who flourished previous to 1294. As a poetic form it rapidly became popular with the singers of the Romance Languages, owing, no doubt, to the great wealth of rhymes inherent in those tongues. Dante to his Beatrice, and Petrarch to his Laura, used its fourteen lines of verbal music for enshrining their intensest emotions, and their most impassioned rhapsodies: in fact the sonnets of the latter poet are still held up to the modern disciples of the Poetic Art, as the model of a master most worthy of imitation by a sonnet-writer of today. The first among the English poets to use the sonnet form was Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503-1542): and Edmund Spenser, not long after, (1552-1599) prefaces his great work, The Fairy Queen, by dedicating it to seventeen of his friends and patrons, with a separate sonnet to each of them. Shakespeare (1564-1616) left a long list of 154 sonnets, all written on the same model, since known by his name. Milton, too, was a writer of sonnets and he, too, had an influence on its shaping. But the Great Sonneteer, _par excellence_, of English Literature was William Wordsworth (1770-1850). His sonnet, "On Westminster Bridge" forms my ideal of what a Petrarchan Sonnet ought to be. Notable sonnets have come from the pens of John Keats, Percy Bysshe Shelley, and Alfred Tennyson, and from the pens of some of our Canadian poets, such as Archibald Lampman, Duncan Campbell Scott, and Robert Norwood, have come sonnets that any one of the poets of the Motherland herself would have been proud to have penned. {9} I. THE ALTAR AND THE GIFT (_Read upward, Reader, in order of the Numbers to the Left._) 14. 'Tis this on which our Readers' Souls shall feed! 13. Like smoke and incense with our heart-felt prayer; 12. So now should rise the essence of our Creed. 11. For which we built the Altar with such care, 10. This Sestette is our Holy Gift indeed, 9. Now, lay our Off'ring on this Altar there; 8. For here's an Octave-Altar, best or worst! 7. And we are filled with quiet lyric mirth, 6. by Sonnet-rules and comely rhymes, like "girth," 5. And then begins the second quatrain, nursed 4. We'll realize we've built Foundation-first! 3. For, as the verses rise above the Earth, 2. And upward read in order of their birth, 1. I think a Sonnet's lines should be reversed, _I call this a "Constructional" Sonnet. It is intended to show the plan and purpose of a sonnet, by making one after the Petrarchan model._ {10} II. JANUARY _This sonnet was the first of a series of twelve sonnets, representing the Months as young Maidens, pictured as accompanied by their characteristic features, and named by me "The Maiden Months."_ A laughing Maiden, January stands, Bedecked in all her snowy mantle fair; The sunlight glints upon her golden hair, And sleeping branches fill her warm-gloved hands. The green Pines bend to her their quivering wands; The twitt'ring birds give forth their welcome rare; The fleecy clouds smile through the crystal air, And Earth rejoices as she greets the Lands! She comes to tomb the faded and the sere; To rest tired Nature after all her throes; To cover up the blights of yesteryear, To heal Earth's sickness, and relieve her woes. Thus January sees Earth's joy prevail; Flings wide the Door, and bids the New Year "Hail!" --Canadian Magazine. {11} III. NIGHT Fair, gold-crowned Day has drawn her crimson train Through Western Gates, and pearly-mantled Eve Has smiled on all things round; now does she leave, And in her place comes sombre Night to reign,-- Dark Night, arrayed in shroud of sable stain, But all bestrewn with golden dust of stars, That makes her darkness beautiful, nor mars Sweet Luna's splendor, as o'er Land and Main, Her Torchbearer, she glides with silver feet. Then over all the World a hush descends, While weary Mortals sink in slumber sweet; All Nature, high and low together blends In blissful rest to wait the morning light, And silently enjoy the boon of Night! August, 1901.--_The Week_, Victoria, B.C. My first attempt at a sonnet. A Hybrid Sonnet. {12} IV. TO THE DUKE OF CORNWALL AND YORK (_Afterwards King George V._) All Hail to thee! Our King's beloved Son! A Nation all united bids thee Hail! From Sea to Sea, and from the Ice-bergs pale To Southern Line, to thee our hearts are One! As long as we our earthly course do run, Our loyalty unswerving shall be given To Britain's King, our Sov'reign under Heaven, And Empire Great, on which ne'er sets the Sun! View, then our Land from Ocean Shore to Shore; Its lakes and rivers, mountains, forests green; Its rolling Prairies, and its mineral store: A Land more glorious thou hast never seen; Then, Home returning to thy Sire thou'lt bring A Nation's homage to a Nation's King! Oct. 1, 1901--_Daily Times_, Victoria, B.C. A Hybrid Sonnet. {13} V. LOVE'S TOURNEY As Knight of Eld, when jousting in the Lists, Did raise his eyes to meet his Lady's smile, And therein find new strength of Arm; no guile Might then o'ermatch him while her gaze he wists: Also do I, when battling in Life's mists, Yield to no dubious Fate a Homage vile; I glance at thy dear Face, and its sweet wile Lures me to dare the Power that resists! O Love, then fix thy lustrous Eyes on me; Vainly shall Fortune hurl her fiery Darts; Encased in Love's own Magic Mail I'll be Yon Crypt's indweller ere I own her arts! Obeisance then, I'll do, with Victory, Unto the Queen who rules my Heart of Hearts! June 11, 1906--_Canadian Magazine_, Toronto. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {14} VI. THE DOUGLAS FIR Proud Monarch of the West's green-fringed Hills: Majestic Pillar of the Sunset Sky, In grim, dark grandeur thou dost raise on high Thy tap'ring head, to where the glory fills The firmament. The roseate radiance thrills My Soul not more than that weird Melody, The Ocean Breeze awakes, mysteriously, Among thy boughs, whenever that it wills. Long Centuries have scored thy rugged side, With gashes rude and deep; thy wounded heart Has shed great tears, and these congealing, hide, Or strive to hide, these gaping rents in part; And Centuries more, thou still might'st stand in pride, But envious Man now claims thee for his Mart! Nov 1, 1907.--_Canadian Magazine_, Toronto. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {15} VII. TO A BUST OF SHAKESPEARE This Brow was moulded with such massive Thought, The Years have since been lost in wonderment, And time and time they grateful Tribute brought To this Great Gift of Wit, and Wisdom blent! These were the Eyes that saw our World a Stage, A-throng with Actors ardent on their Play; To match their ecstasies of Love or Rage, This Tongue spoke Words that thrill us still today! Now, let these Ears ring with the meed of Praise, Our fervent Souls would shout, or whisper low; Mayhap shall live that Wreath of bronzen bays, And from these Lips new Breath of Life outflow! Love would remould, from these so god-like parts, Those Deathless Features for our Shrining Hearts! Feb., 1936.--_Daily Times_, Victoria, B.C. A Shakespearean Sonnet. Written for his birthday. {16} VIII. OUTPOST Here, where the Sun drops down into the Sea, Your Western Outpost flaunts gay Flags of Joy; Her vibrant Guns belch forth their Loyalty, Her Folk, Love's Emblems fervently employ! For every Bond of Empire we would bind, And every Tribute of Devotion pour, In order that Your Majesties might find Our Far Columbia British to the Core! When from this Royal Progress you return, With that sweet Crown of Memories to wear, Whose every facet potently shall burn Its gentle fire to charm away dull care, Then may Victoria be the Jewel Bright,-- The Apex of that Memory's Delight! May 5, 1939.--_Alberta Year Book_, 1939. A Shakespearean Sonnet. Written as the King was making his way across Canada in 1939. {17} IX. EXULTATION I stood in sunshine on a breezy Hill, And watched the Clouds float landward from the Sea, While vibrant Gladness set the air a-thrill, And surged and sang through every nerve of me: I soared as on an Angel's golden wing, To heights my Heart had never touched before, Where wide I saw the door of Heaven swing, And Joys Celestial throng the threshold o'er. That moment was I purged of fleshly dross, And my rapt Soul, forgetting Sin and Strife; Forgetting, too, all sordid gain or loss, Sang her high paean to the Lord of Life! Down gleaming Stairs God led His Choiring Train, And my exultant Heart sang glad refrain! June 21, 1922.--_Churchman_, New York. A Hybrid Sonnet. On Beacon Hill, Victoria, B.C. {18} X. SEPTEMBER September comes to us with bounteous hand, And, Oh, what glorious Gifts she does bestow! All Fields and Trees with ripened riches glow; Earth yields abundantly at her command! By gaping Portals, see her stately stand To watch the harvest wagons inward flow; Her smiles increase as heaps the higher grow, And Plenty seals the Garners of the Land! O dear September, be your coming blest! You are the sweet Replenisher of Home; Your boons to us all fear of Want arrest; We thank you for these Dowers of the Loam! God set your task, you've compassed His behest; Our Praise shall pulsate high as Heaven's Dome! April 23, 1935.--_Daily Journal_, Edmonton. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {19} XI. A MARKET-PLACE Here Men have come to sell, and Men to buy, And chaffering goes on from morn till eve; A myriad noises flow and interweave, And send their clamor to the patient sky. The busy hours come on, and wax, and die, Each freighted with the most it could achieve, Then Countrymen shut up their packs and leave, And Townsfolk to their homes sedately hie! So do we see two classes here convene, Buyer and Seller on a common floor: Man and his Brother close in converse keen, Soul touching Soul, each looking for a Door! If Gold and Goods are all that pass between, Then each is poorer than he was before! July 21, 1934.--_Onward_, Toronto. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {20} XII. VANCOUVER Serene I sit my mountain-girded Throne; My regal feet the Western Ocean laves; I beckon to the Orient o'er the waves, And precious Argosies bring wealth unknown; Across the land swift engines pant and groan With far-brought freightings for my Store-house Caves; The Mines and Forests teem with iron slaves, Whose toil more Tribute adds to what I own. I guard the Gate to Canada's Domain; I am her Western Portal to the Sea; A Queen of Commerce do I proudly reign! Come, give your loving Homage unto me! All who me serve, to honor I am fain, And share with them all my Prosperity! Dec. 26, 1925.--_Daily Province_, Vancouver. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {21} XIII. HALIFAX In her strong Castle by the Ocean Shore, Towered and pennoned on her swelling steep, Fair Halifax a watchful ward doth keep,-- A stately Guardian at our Eastern Door! Seldom she frowns, more oft her arms implore Rich Argosies from o'er the Atlantic Deep Into the shelter of her Coves to sweep, Safe from the Storm-Fiend's clutch: the Tempest-Roar! Gracious her air, for Time has been her Friend; Conscious her Pride; she knows her Record's clean; What can we wish the Future Years to send? More Honors High, and Tasks that scorn the Mean'. God from her bounds all Evil things forfend, And grant her Courage, as becomes a Queen! Sept. 4, 1933.--_Centenary_, 1944. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {22} XIV. TO MEMORY O Memory, we thank thy pallid hand For gracious glimpses of the vanished days; Thou partest curtains of obscuring haze, As though Time's edicts thou wouldst countermand! Thou helpest us Life's buffets to withstand, For, as thy visions open on our gaze, Thou showest us by light on others' ways, Our own grow plainer, or are surer planned. We can live nobler when the Past we know; Look farther forward, as we see behind; Into the Future we more grandly grow, When to the Past we are not wholly blind! Thy Friendship, Memory, on us bestow, And cheer us onward with thy blessing kind! March 7, 1931.--_Centenary_, Victoria. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {23} XV. ARBUTUS (_Arbutus Menziesii_) All morn she sped, pursued by flaming Pan, Through the thick woods, nor knew which way she hied, The Dryad, scored and bleeding, shrieking, cried Unto great Juno, praying as she ran. With what despair, then, did she, halting, scan Right at her feet, the sea-cliffs, and the tide Laving their bases, and outspreading wide To far horizons, where the sky began? With arms upflung, she crouched for the last leap To chill oblivion in the tossing flood, But Juno's hand uprose in godlike sweep, And, still as statue carved the Dryad stood; When Pan rushed up, there crowned the rocky steep, Only a Tree, smooth-limbed, in thought a-brood! Aug. 23, 1930--_Daily Sun_, Vancouver. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {24} XVI. THE CROWN IMPERIAL Here is the very Flower of Britain's Might; The Jewel Ultimate of her High Throne; The Sovereign's Apanage, Supreme, Alone; The Point and Pinnacle of Honor's Height! How gleam the Precious Petals! Heaven's Light Reveals no Diadem of lustrous stone Surpassing this Grand Scintillating Zone! Shall not all Britons glory in the sight? Great Symbol of Majestic, World-Wide Power; Crystallization of its Worth and Fame; The Fortalice of Freedom, and the Tower Of Virtues that adorn a Monarch's Name! O God, in favor grant Thy Richest Dower! Shout, Loyal Liegemen, shout your Glad Acclaim! April 17, 1939.--_Saturday Night_, Toronto. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {25} XVII. VICTORIA TO HALIFAX O Sister City, by our Sister Sea, I wave you Greeting o'er the linking Land,-- So far, so far,--I would my friendly hand Could clasp with yours,--but Ah, that cannot be! Yet stand we warders of our Homeland Free, You at our Eastern Portal keep command, And I at Western take my loyal stand,-- At Land's extremes stout Guardians both are we! We watch to shun all War, and War's Alarms; We watch to welcome Peace, and peaceful Trade; All Argosies of Friendship are our charms, But, should Foe come our Homeland to invade, Duty would bid us stand to sternest Arms, And fight till Death to form that Foe's blockade! July 20, 1938--_Daily Times_, Victoria. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {26} XVIII. AN APRIL MORNING All night sweet April shed her living tears, So gently, softly, yet with steady power, Now Morning dawns on tree, and grass, and flower, Bedrenched and shining as the light appears! In the lush Maple, Meadow-larks one hears Tune up their broken fifes that song might dower This day of Springtime true, this growing hour, With music-notes that spell the joy of years! As Noon approaches, no more showers fall; A rift or two permits the sun to play His shaft of light, a golden coronal, To crown and brighten all the World's array! Earth wakes more wonder with her magic call: "Arise, O Wind! and blow the clouds away!" April 20, 1937.--_Crown Anthology_, N.Y. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {27} XIX. JOY AND SORROW God has two servants whom He sends to try Each mortal, as he journeys on his way; Joy is the name of one, whose manner gay Soon earns her welcome when she happens by. But Sorrow, that sad other, chills the eye Of him whom she approaches; for her gray And sombre aspect does to few convey The thought that she could e'er God's purpose ply. They come to all, and all should greet them fair; To those who see in them God's Messengers, They bring bright Crowns of Blessing and of Good; To those whose purpose melts in Laughter's blare Joy gives a Bauble; while those cowed by Tears, Stern Sorrow gives a Dagger dripping Blood! June 29, 1919.--_Presbyterian and Westminster_, Toronto. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {28} XX. THE EVENING SACRIFICE Day dies in flames upon the western hill, And radiant gleams of amethyst, and gold, And rose, and ruby, gloriously unrolled, Flare up the sky, and o'er the World outspill. The Evening Sacrifice! My Soul's a-thrill! My Day the Victim; I Priest's office hold, To make confession and desires unfold Before the God who knows my heart and will. Alas! My Victim's blemished; but I needs Must offer, for 'tis all I have to hand: God greet the gift, and pardon whate'er mars; Grant absolution for my foolish deeds, And send me mercy by His blest command, Through all the calm clear eyes of moon and stars! Aug. 19, 1918.--_Canadian Bookman_, Montreal. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {29} XXI. COLUMBUS He dared and won, and winning dared again, He won and lost, and losing dared anew, For naught could daunt his spirit staunch and true, Nor dim his faith in God, and Brother Men. Where others saw a Waste, his Vision's ken Scanned a Wide Way to Realms of larger view, And, while the vision lured him on to do, He needs must follow, though he perish then! Fetters, and Bars and base Ingratitude, World's signet-marks to pledge his manly worth, But served to steel his Purpose, and prelude The Glorious Fame that knows Eternal Birth! Thy woes, Columbus, and men's actions rude, Have sealed thy Deeds upon the Hearts of Earth! Aug. 8, 1913.--_Presbyterian and Westminster_, Toronto. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {30} XXII. IN A LIBRARY _Written in Connaught Library, Parliament Buildings, Victoria, B.C._ As at the Shrine of his departed Sires, Devoutly bows the Son of Old Cathay, To do them honor in his reverent way. And make them partners in his fond desires: So come I, with my Heart's deep, quiet fires Glowing and fragrant, humble meed to pay To those Great Minds of Time's vast Yesterday, Whose rich bequest in Books my Soul inspires! In these fair chambers where their Volumes stand. In many a rigid row, all patiently, They seem to wait and crave my friendly hand, For, at my touch their Spirits wake in me A thrill responsive, as the Sunset Grand Wakes kindred glories in the adoring Sea! Aug. 29, 1920.--_Canadian Bookman_, Montreal A Petrarchan Sonnet. {31} XXIII. O LAND OF MINE O Land of Mine, wilt thou not, too, be God's? Wilt thou not shrive thee from thy Civic Sin, Till thou, all-pure, to Truth and Honor win, All Baseness burying beneath the clods? False is that Glory which the Vile applauds: Vain the advantage from all selfish din, Only endures what is to God akin: Only is Substance what no Good defrauds! O Land of Mine! build sure, and sound, and fair; Rear high thy pinnacles in Heaven's Might. Then Happy Hearts shall climb thy Radiant Stair, And strong, clean Hands up-rear thy Shining Height; The World beholding shall lift eyes of Prayer In thanks to God, for leading thee to Light! Nov. 22, 1927.--_Homiletic Monthly_, N.Y. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {32} XXIV. THE ROSE OF GLAMIS The Rose of Glamis was fairest of the Fair; The choicest Bloom on Scotia's Flowered Way; The Future King walked sighing pensive there: "That Rose must be my Own, some lovely Day!" That Sweet Day came, and too, the Royal Throne, With Love, and Work, and Duties Great and High, Wherein the Rose bloomed fair,--still Fairest Known, And Rosebuds soon the Glory glorify! Came War, and frightful Horrors smote all Peace; In Blood, and Death the Rose of Glamis outshone; Beside the Throne it stood, nor asked Release And proved itself the Fairest ever Grown! Now all the Empire, under Pines and Palms, Prays, "God of Heaven, bless Our Rose of Glamis!" Aug. 11, 1941.--_Alberta Poetry Year Book_, Edmonton, Alta. 1942-1943. A Shakespearean Sonnet. To Her Majesty the Queen. _Note_.--_Glamis_ is pronounced _Glamz_. {33} XXV. GEORGES Saint George, once, mounted on his mail-clad Steed, Rode in fierce charge against a Dragon Bold, Whose rage had wasted Famous Lands of Old; He thereby saved them in their Hour of Need! In later days, another George's Deed Of Stern Oppression sends Hired Troops to hold His Restive Colony,--but Fates unfold A Greater George, whose Sword, more potent, freed! And late came riding in a gallant Car, A Gentler George, who brought a Lovely Queen, And through the Lands they waged a Joyous War, While Cheering Millions owned their Sway Serene! For Worth and Beauty much more Winning are, Than Force and Fire, and Truer too, and Clean! May, 1939. A Petrarchan Sonnet. To His Majesty after his American Tour. {34} XXVI. ASIA Mother of Nations, and the Nurse of Art, When Time first raised his eyelids on the World, Thy smile was there to greet him. Then unfurled, Like petals from thy Lotus' jewelled heart, The buds of Faith and Knowledge, that impart And spread their fragrance where'er winds have whirled, O'er mount and plain, and isles in seas impearled, Bringing a blessing into Home and Mart. Now, Asia, to thy Tawny Sons in need, Come Paler Pilgrims from the silver West, Bearing the increase of thy Golden Seed In Holy Vessels, and with loving zest; To bind the Bands of Brotherhood in deed, And crown with glad accord the ages' quest! May, 1920.--_East and West_, Toronto, Ontario A Petrarchan Sonnet. {35} XXVII. AUTUMN RAIN The Rain is pattering lightly on the leaves; Dull Mists are hanging heavy o'er the Lake; The dripping branches furtive music make, Accordant with the Splashing from the eaves; They tell that mourning Nature gently grieves, To see sweet Summer southward journey take To Warmer Climes, and leaving in her wake This soft-breathed sadness that through all things weaves: But Sadness, shot with mellow Gladness through, For all the long, dry Months, the sun-cloyed Earth Has yearned a Draught that would her thirst undo, Assuage her longing, and relieve her dearth, And now, 'tis here! no more will Droughts renew; Now comes the Moisture that brings inner Worth! Sept. 6, 1926.--_National Home Monthly_, Winnipeg. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {36} XXVIII. ELECTRICITY I come, I go; yet stay I all the while; Unseen, or seen, the whole Earth throbs with me; What am I? or from whence? or whither flee? No living Brain can my clear course compile! My Power is huge, yet subtle, too, as guile, And magical as ancient Wizardry; Here, there, at once; so quickly, quietly; Scorning all height, or depth, or measured mile. So Mighty, yet am I the Slave of Man, Who, like Aladdin, binds me to his Will: A Child can with his finger, bid or ban; But, held or loosed, I am The Power still! Knowledge shall sway me at her calm desire, But, Ignorance, beware! Thou'lt feel my Fire! June 28, 1927.--_American Mutual Magazine_, Boston, Mass. A Hybrid Sonnet. {37} XXIX. AT QUEBEC Where Wolfe the Brave, and gallant Sieur Montcalm Gave each his blood to seal his thought of Right I, too, have stood and wondered if there might Not come a time, when all my Life's sweet Balm Would have to be outpoured, sans song or psalm, My Soul's libation, on some altared Height, In sullen gloom, or in fierce, blinding light; Heedless of Coward's jeer, or Victor's palm! If that day come, then let me stand with them! Yes, with them fall, if Destiny so bid! Honor will give her secret Diadem; Duty strength whisper, though her face be hid; My deathless Soul shall scorning Fear's black spawn, Upright and eager, greet the Deathless Dawn! July 26, 1929.--_Canadian National_, Toronto. A Hybrid Sonnet. {38} XXX. TO CHARLES MAIR ON HIS EIGHTY-EIGHTH BIRTHDAY Like some strong Keep that held in times of Old, Our Country safe against Invading Foes, And now, time-worn and weathered, stately shows Its Walls to Reverence and Love untold; Or, like some Western Woodsman, hale and bold, That through a trackless Forest seeking goes, Hewing a Pathway with his sturdy blows, That later Seekers bless when they behold; So thou, Charles Mair, art in our grateful eyes, Now that Time's Snows upon thy temples throng, Our tongues pay Tribute to thy Pen's emprise; Our Hearts thy Praise of Right; thy Scorn of Wrong; These in our Land thy Name Immortalize, Hail, Canada's great Pioneer of Song! July, 1926.--_Willison's Monthly_, Toronto. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {39} XXXI. IN MEMORIAM--CHARLES MAIR _Born--Lanark, Ontario, Sept. 21, 1838 Died--Victoria, B.C., July 7, 1927_ The Singer now hath laid aside his Lyre; Forever is that silver Voice at rest: The crumbled urn hath freed its wingéd Guest; The Torch hath lost its flame of Living Fire! But, never shall the coming Years desire To still the Music that his lips expressed, His Song shall echo on and on, in quest Of Kindred Hearts to comfort and inspire! No mute-held Sorrow shall bedim our eyes; No sable drapes of Woe our limbs array, But, quietly our Gratitude shall rise, As gentle faces thank the ending Day, To God above, to whom all things belong, Who took the Singer, but hath left the Song! July 15, 1927. A Hybrid Sonnet. {40} XXXII. THE OLD ROAD I trod today a Road oft-trod in youth, And on the backgrounds of old hills and skies, Long-vanished Homesteads rose before my eyes; Long-silenced Voices spoke again in truth: For Memory has helping Fays, forsooth, To search the caverns where her treasure lies, And from dream-tatters bids old Visions rise, Calming torn Heart-strings in their kindly ruth! Tender the Thoughts that thronged along the way. All Hates were dead, and Loves alone remained; E'en the stark newness of the Road today Was mellowed by the mists of years regained! Life's every path its secrets will display To him who has the eyes of Youth retained! Aug. 26, 1933.--_New Outlook_, Toronto. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {41} XXXIII. BROWNING A Great, Gaunt Crag, uprearing through the spite Of thundering Tempests, and huge, crashing Seas; Harsh, gloomy, bare, it thrusts its rugged height Above the broil and strife, to where the breeze Comes crimson-tinted from the rising Sun. Man sees and says: "Behold, a Barren Cliff,-- A Dreary Desolation! No Good's done By this Earth-blemish, staring, stark, and stiff!" But through the murk there comes a Seeker nigh. And with his pick he probes the Mountain's Breast, And what he finds, he hails with joyous cry,-- Rich veins of Gold, and gems of lustre best! Earth-blest it is from base to summit high. And Lo! the smile of Heaven gilds its Crest! Dec. 28, 1912.--_The Westminster_, Toronto. A Hybrid Sonnet. {42} XXXIV. CRUSADERS He grasped his Cross-bepennoned Lance in hand, And cased his muscles in cold shining steel; With Sword and Shield of temper tried and leal, He fared him forth to face the Paynim band. No Doubt, for just his Cause: his Purpose grand: No Fear; Faith went unrivalled save by Zeal; Nor Pain, nor Death could make him Terror feel, Could he but deal one stroke for Tomb or Land! Alas, the Paynims are not vanquished yet; No dead Christ's Tomb in danger fires the World, But furious Hosts have risen, keen to get The Living Christ's Ideals downward hurled. Crusaders, rise! Shall Victory be set On Banners in this Sinful Cause unfurled? July 21, 1915.--_Mail and Empire_, Toronto. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {43} XXXV. THE DOCTOR His Hands have felt me where I felt my Pain; Like Velvet ran they, and the aching fled; His Stethoscope stepped on with even tread, And told the story of my Heart's refrain! Ah, yes, not once or twice, but times again,-- By day, or when the kindly sun had sped, His Word of Comfort or Advice was said, And Ease returned, and I could Peace attain! Sometimes his Knowledge taught me what to do, But mostly 'twas his Strength became a Base, On which to rest my Weakness, till it grew More Potent in upstanding Power and Grace! He did not Heal, but gave me Healing's View!-- God's Messenger in him I truly trace! May 3, 1936. A Petrarchan Sonnet. XXXVI. WHEAT O Sun, smile on this Sea of waving Wheat! O Rain, refresh it with thy gentle shower! O Wind, breathe o'er it with thy subtle Power, And bid it flourish through the summer heat! Then, Autumn, come, and make the work complete; Ripen each acre with thy Golden Dower, Till Reapers bring it where High Garners tower. And Men with gladdened eyes the Harvest greet! Hark! how the Hungry Nations crave this Grain! "Bread, Bread!" they cry, "That we may live in Peace! O Plenty, and Content! with us remain, O Fields, bestow on us your Rich Increase! We thank Thee, God, for this that Thou didst give, This Wheat, that faces Death, and bids us live!" Sept. 26, 1926.--_Northwestern Miller_, Minneapolis. A Hybrid Sonnet. {45} XXXVII. THE BUILDING Pull down my scaffold; let me stand alone! For now a Building fair, complete, I rise! Let Men come view me; touch me, criticize; Yet use me, all from base to coping stone! From One man's inward sight and thought, I've grown; Through many men's endeavors and emprise, Till now, a Glory in admiring eyes, I gleam, a finished Work,--a Flower full-blown! Clean Industry has thus created me, In Industry's grand Cause to serve my part; I was made true and strong that I might be The Guarantor of Truth and Strength in Art; All that I do shall be as Good renowned, And sounder be, because I first was sound! Jan. 1, 1928.--_American Mutual Magazine_, Boston. A Hybrid Sonnet. {46} XXXVIII. THE GRAND ADVENTURE He'd probed Earth's secrets with his eager eyes; All climes had stamped their mint-marks on his face; In every look and lineament was the trace Of stern achievement, and of bold emprise. Men had he fought 'neath cool, and tropic skies; Lions had licked the dust in bloody chase; Scaled were sharp peaks, and dared the desert space; Always a victor, whate'er Fate devise. But now the Ship had spread her ghostly sail To fare for him the final Silent Sea, And round his couch they stood to sadly wail, But through his pain, he said, all quietly: "Friends, do not grieve because I must be gone; My Greatest Dare comes with my Grandest Dawn! Aug. 18, 1917.--_Christian Advocate_, New York. A Hybrid Sonnet. {47} XXXIX. IN GOD'S CATHEDRAL In God's Cathedral there is naught but Praise! The columned Firs uprise in stately trust, And bear the turquoise vault with quiet thrust, Their plumy capitals in light ablaze. Below in shade the younger Hemlocks raise A pale green mist like incense-smoke that must Waft upward from repentant, yearning dust Some prayer for pardon, and for Hope that stays. The faithful Ferns have spread their pleading palms, And listen as the organ-wind resounds, While choral Birds chant sweet their holy psalms; All Passion flees, and Peace alone abounds. To God's Cathedral bring no jarring tone, Heart of my Soul, bow thou before the Throne! Aug. 18, 1917.--_East and West_, Toronto. A Hybrid Sonnet. {48} XL. THE DEVASTATOR You who proclaim yourself the "Torch of God," To set the Lands ablaze with Flame of War, And scourge presumptuous Nations, near and far, That dare to doubt the anointing of your Rod; You, who have broken Troth, and plighted Word; Who slew the Innocents that clogged your way, And rushed to Fire, and Force, and Bloody Fray, To swell your Glory and to glut your Sword: Look on the Devastation you have wrought; The Ravaged Homes, the Dead, the Broken Hearts; The Want, the Woe with which each day is fraught; This Hell on Earth which your Ambition starts! Dare you to scan what you have sacrificed, And still say, "Brother!" to the gentle Christ? Sept. 14, 1914.--_Living Church_, Milwaukee, Wis. A Hybrid Sonnet. {49} XLI. IN A WASHINGTON FOREST (_Written during a visit to Sol Duc Hot-Springs Washington State_) TO THE COUNTESS VON GIRSEVALD Huge Pillar-Firs rise round me straight, serene,-- Brown pillars, mossed and flecked with lichens gray; So thick they throng, their shadows dim the day That filters through the roof of sombre green In golden shafts to shatter on the sheen Of light vine-maple leaves, that spread their spray, So fairy-like, so flutteringly gay, Among the grim, dark trunks they stand between. The yielding floor of twigs and matted spines, Dead memories of many a sunny ray, Is carpeted with ferns, and moss, and vines, So soft, my foot falls soundless as I stray. Here Peace and Silence in their Temple dwell, And bows my Heart beneath their magic spell! July 3, 1914.--_American Forestry_, Washington, D.C. A Hybrid Sonnet. {50} XLII. MY CASTLE I've built a Castle in the crystal air; Of Sunshine, Moonlight, Star-beam is it made; By Fairy Artists are its Walls arrayed; And busy Elves have decked its Turrets fair; Tall Pinnacles with Light are gleaming there, In amethystine tints, and Pearl, and Jade; Its Windows smile with Rainbow hues displayed; Its Portals swing ajar with Welcome rare! I roam at will all through its stately Halls, And dream of Grand Accomplishment and Fame; I'm thrilled,--and yet,--and yet,--somehow it palls; An incompleteness seems to foil its Aim. There's something lacking, that is very plain! I wonder, is it? Yes, a Chatelaine! March 25, 1928.--_Daily Province_, Vancouver. A Hybrid Sonnet. {51} XLIII. VICTORIA IN VICTORIA _To the beautiful Bronze Statue by Bruce Joy, in front of the Parliament Buildings, Victoria, B.C._ She came not in her days of flesh, but now Her spirit's here, in lasting bronze, to bide In this Fair City by the Sunset Tide, Which with her Name in youth she did endow; That Diadem of bronze that crowns her brow; That Queenly Sceptre sloped against her side, Shall into crumbs and primal dust divide, Before that Name shall to Oblivion bow! O quiet eyes, that seem to watch in hope This City Namesake, still in shy amaze, Before grand portals that the Morrows ope, Dreaming the radiant dreams of Dawning Days, Shall ye behold these Visions brought to view? Yes, yes, ye shall, if we to trust are true! June 19, 1921.--_Daily Times_, Victoria. A Hybrid Sonnet. {52} XLIV. PEBBLES I lie outstretched upon the pebbled shore!-- Sun-flooded pebbles, each with friendly hand Soothing my skin, and too, with sweet command My restless nerves, so troubled heretofore! The boisterous waves, with endless rush and roar, Have brought me these, and strewn them on the land; I call them: "Little Brothers of the Strand," Because they seem to love me daily more! Yet, 'tis the Sun who really is my Friend; Without his fire the Pebbles were so chill; So dull and sombre they could not extend Their cosy comfort, and their healing Thrill! Then, kiss me fondly, and your soothing lend, O Pebbles, Pebbles, my full yearning fill! July 14, 1936. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {53} XLV. GLADIOLI _To Mrs. Margaret Murray, Sooke, B.C._ Who'll guard the Garden as sweet Beauty's Home: Who'll be her Sentinel to ward off Woe? Will you, Gladioli, do Sentry-go? You Truest Watchers 'neath high Heaven's dome? "Aye, Aye! Our Swords shall spring from out the loam, All in stiff ranks our blades we'll marshal so, For Beauty's sake to thrust forth every Foe, No matter what to us from Fate may come!" Came Summer; Beauty crowned them with her praise! She cried: "You, too, shall in my beauty share, For faithful watching through the growing days, Deserves reward supremely rich and rare! Gladioli, receive my richest Dowers: From henceforth bear my Garden's gayest Flowers!" Aug. 12, 1936.--_Blue River Anthology_. A Hybrid Sonnet. _One day, after I had visited the late Mrs. Murray at her home, Well Park, Sooke, B.C., she gave me a huge bouquet of Gladioli, to take home._ {54} XLVI. MY BOOKS Before my eyes their magic courses run. My books, in motley colors, odds or pairs. And through their lettered backs a Kingdom stares My eager eyes.--a Realm of Faery spun! For what I want of soberness, or Fun Is here. This hand I stretch, as one who dares To freeze in icy caves with Polar bears, Or scorch with Kaffirs under Afric's sun: I stretch the other, and I mount a Throne, Or strive with Armored knights for Beauty's eyes; Descend to Hell, or starve in regions lone, Or rise on wings and thread the orbéd skies! I am contented, for I have, you see, The Wishing-Cap of Eld so close to me! --_Daily Times_, Victoria, B.C. A Hybrid Sonnet. {55} XLVII. LONGFELLOW No war-winged Pegasus thy flights sustained; Nor classic Muse compelled thy murmured lay, But from the Heights of Peace, where Angels stay, Did one descend, nor in thine ear refrained From whisp'ring words of Hope and Love. Contained In simple strains they left thy lips anew, To gladden weary Hearts; with hope imbue The Captive whom dull Sorrow had enchained. O Longfellow, thou hast thy wish indeed! What songs than thine could have a nobler end? For down the aisles of Time thy name shall read: "The Fireside Poet," and "The Children's Friend." We'll twine a Wreath Immortal for thy brow, For thou didst sing of Hearts, and thrill'st them now! Aug. 13, 1905.--_Westminster_, Toronto. A Hybrid Sonnet. {56} XLVIII. THE ADVENTURER Nor Land, nor Sea, nor Air holds aught to daunt The daring Heart that probes their mysteries; Nor Height, nor Depth, nor Distance,--none of these But some Adventurer shall scorn its taunt! Not with the bombast of an empty vaunt, But High Achievement, or sheer Scorn of Ease Urges him onward where the Vision please, Alert and eager as on some gay jaunt! What is the guerdon of the Questing Soul? Surely the struggle, and the Pulse of Blood! These sound the onset urging to the Goal; These sing the paean o'er all fire and flood! Joy of the Conquest gives its glamour, too, But, Oh, how brief! The tocsin calls anew! Feb. 31, 1931.--_Sun_, Vancouver. A Hybrid Sonnet. {57} XLIX. AMONG THE DOUGLAS FIRS The road had wound through blazing heat and dust, But here it enters this grand forest aisle, And, glad, I throw me down to rest a while, And with the Firs commune, and eat my Crust; They speak to me of Quietness, and Trust; Of Peace that does all petty cares beguile: I tell them how I'm worn by Woe and Wile; They say, "Look up as we, thou'lt stand the thrust!" No Theban Pharaoh's giant-pillared Fane, Was such a pure and holy shrine as this, Which God rears for His Glory, and our Gain, And bids us share the Beauty, and the Bliss! Great Columns, carved with Time's mysterious runes. That Men would read ye, bowing for their boons! Aug. 16, 1923.--_English Journal_, Chicago. A Hybrid Sonnet. {58} L. IN AN INDIAN VILLAGE (_Yaculta, Quadra Island, Gulf of Georgia_) A tall, grim Totem, carved in weird design, Where Man and Beast grotesquely interlace,-- Strange heraldry of this fast-passing Race, Stands like a sentinel to guard the line Of new, bright-painted Cottages, the sign Of progress, and Time's onward-pushing pace; For they who held in savage years this place, Now scorn the Old, and after New things pine. Yonder lie relics of the Former Days, Dry-rotting grayly in the summer heat, And soon they'll pass with memories of Old Ways, To find at last oblivion complete! Rebuild, Yaculta, but upon the Cross; Then shalt thou find true Gain and never Loss! Aug. 13, 1923.--_Daily Province_, Vancouver. A Hybrid Sonnet. {59} LI. AT DUNDARAVE (_Dundarave is a suburb of North Vancouver._) I saw, while on the shore at Dundarave, The Sun die, drowned in seas of amethyst, His flaming arms high-flung, an agonist In prayer to Clouds that hearkened not to save; But o'er the face of every glancing wave There stole a radiance as his beams they kissed, For Light, the magic-fingered Alchemist, Had touched to gold dark trappings of his Grave. High through the Clouds the gleaming grandeur swelled; The Mountains, Trees, and Rocks flung back the glow; But all the rage and riot quick were quelled; One vast, calm World of Splendor watched him go, He sank in Peace, for in his Ocean Tomb, He found a Glory where he dreaded Gloom! Nov. 11, 1922.--_Daily Province_, Vancouver. A Hybrid Sonnet. {60} LII. A LESSON Oftimes in School, the Master with his chalk Writes out a goodly precept on the board, And leaves it there until its truth is stored Within the mind to blossom in the walk, Then, quickly comes, erasing brush in hand, And that fair line has passed forever out, Leaving no trace of what it was about,-- But on the floor there lies a film of sand; So, when the tender Master of the World, Shall at his will me from Life's Board erase, Leaving the spot I held so short a space, To drift in dust by wanton breezes whirled, May there be something that my Life has said, That others reading, grow by what they've read! June 23, 1921.--_Rotation_, Chicago A Hybrid Sonnet. {61} LIII. MY HOMELAND _(An Englishman is supposed to have heard the Larks singing in Victoria--the only place in North America where the English Lark has been successfully introduced--and the music has awakened memories of Childhood.)_ My Heart is thrilled by this so magic Song! An English Lark's, yet far from England's shore; Dear days of Youth in that Fair Land of Yore Evoke their Visions in a flooding throng: I, young again, in Kentish meads, among Rose hedges, see the Singing Atom soar, And stand in rapture while the notes downpour; Oblivious of all, as they prolong! My Homeland! I could never thee forget: Each circling Sun but renders thee more dear; Let but the Hand of Memory touch me yet, Thy lovely features to my mind appear! No sweeter linking, could my Heart desire, Than songs descending, as the Larks aspire! Feb. 23, 1935.--_Western Recorder_, Vancouver. A Hybrid Sonnet. {62} LIV. APRIL'S TEARS I would not chide thee, April, for thy tears! Nay, let them fall, a soft life-giving rain, For I can see far Gladness through near Pain; The Resurrection after Death's dark fears! It is not Grief thy gentle heart that sears, But, woman-like, thy Joy a-surge again Hurtles thy heart-strings with so tense a strain, Something must break e'er calmness reappears. So gush the showers from thy tender eyes, Yet all the while lurks Joy within their deeps, For, when from sodden Earth new grasses rise, And tree-buds waken from their sullen sleeps, Thou slowly wipest all thy tears away, And, smiling, givest glad thy hand to May! April 30, 1930.--_National Home Monthly_, Winnipeg. A Hybrid Sonnet. {63} LV. REALIZATION He saw it plain, this dreaming Architect; With rapid strokes he lightly sketched its lines; Then, patiently, with rule and square, designs Grew daily more detailed and more correct. Now on a site brisk Workmen swift collect, And busy Toil with raucous Noise combines, Till soon a Hive of Industry enshrines This growing thing all eagerly project. It seems to swell with ever-budding Pride, And dons the bloom of Beauty and of Grace, Till finished, Lo, the scaffoldings subside, And stands the Building nobly in its place! O Architect, thrice happy man are you, Who of all men can make his dreams come true! July 14, 1930.--_American Mutual Magazine_, Boston, Mass. A Hybrid Sonnet. {64} LVI. GOLDEN SUNSHINE How sweetly does the Sunshine kiss the trees, The flowers, grass, and gray-green mossy rock! It works in them a magic, too, and frees That Power that does the Golden Touch unlock; A rarer Gold is this than Midas knew, For none can bear it off for selfish use, And one approaching with the Spoiler's view, Finds it take wings, like things the Elves produce; Yet 'tis pure gold, this benison God-sent,-- Pure gold attenuate to liquid form,-- To Nature's work angelic burnishment,-- A gleam of Heaven gilding o'er the norm! All calm beholders bear away the prize, When they can drink it with delighted eyes! A Shakespearean Sonnet. {65} LVII. "BETHLEHEMS" Heaven was nearest Earth, that Holy Morn, When Angels sang the Birth at Bethlehem; Proud Magi came with Myrrh, and Gold, and Gem, And humble Shepherds with their Crooks work-worn; Lowly and high adored the Babe new-born, As they together kissed His garment-hem; A God! King! Brother! was the Child to them, A Vision holding all Time's blight in scorn! And Heaven comes to Earth anew today, Where'er a new-born Baby cradled lies, And God is closest in that purest ray, That shines from out the little wondering eyes! Homes rich or poor that guard a Baby's smile, Are surely Bethlehems of God the while! Jan. 29, 1929.--_Christian Advocate_, N.Y. A Hybrid Sonnet. {66} LVIII. CENTENARY One Hundred Years have stretched their storied days, Since that spring morn James Douglas stepped ashore, And our dear soil his eager foot-steps bore To where Victoria soon would Bastions raise, And cedarn Walls uprear in blank amaze Of stolid Natives, coming more and more With garnered pelts to this New Trading-Store, Bart'ring for trinkets; learning White-Man's ways! Since then, this Fort has grown into a Town,-- A City, swelling greater, year by year,-- A Sea-Port harb'ring ships from up and down This Coast, as well as Countries far and near; A Capital expanding in Renown,-- Our Home of Beauty Fair, without compeer! March 6, 1944.--_Centenary_, Victoria. A Petrarchan Sonnet. _Written in Honor of the Centenary of Victoria, B.C., 1843-1943_ {67} LIX. JERUSALEM Jerusalem, we lift our longing eyes, To where thou sittest on thy shrouded Hills, All bowed in grief beneath thine age-long ills, And stunned with woes that from dark years arise! Raise thy sad face, and cease thy sobbing cries! Look where the East all red with Dawning thrills! Thy Sun of Hope thy Day with Promise fills! Rise thou, and gird thee for a New Emprise! Hark, how thy Sons seem stirring with new Fire! See how they turn to thee from every Shore! Hearts throb again with long-suppressed desire; Every fond Soul is tingling to the core! Soon Hallelujahs shall atune thy lyre, And Zion's songs replace thy sighing sore! Dec. 4, 1927.--_Jewish Forum_, N.Y. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {68} LX. TO MY PEN There is magic in the touch of you, My Pen, for when your slender shaft I take, And daintily your arid nib-thirst slake In the Black Well, Mind-Pictures rise to view, And all the Founts of Thought reviving too, At first but slow, then copious, wide awake, A steady current do they running make, Through Brain, Arm, Hand, out at your tracing true! O what may you not give the World from me? Songs of the Heart, or Tales for Fancy's fare; Knowledge to Youth; for Age a comfort sure,-- There are no bounds to all your flowing free, Save that the Founts might shrink up dry and bare, Yet, while they run, God make them fair and pure! June 29, 1928.--_Daily Province_, Vancouver. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {69} LXI. TO THE TYPEWRITER TO MISS ELIZABETH MACMILLAN _A life-long Friend of the Author, who, for many years conducted a Business School on Government Street, Victoria_ Compact, high-strung, yet so demure, I stand, All ready for your fingers on my keys, So, touch them smartly, yet with firmness, please, And I shall answer your exact demand! "Tap-tap" you go; "Click-clack" I answer bland, Sure that each part responds in perfect ease; On, line-by-line, the letters swarm like bees! With keenest eye now let your work be scanned! There, see your thoughts set forth in neat array, Clean to the eye, and clear unto the brain! My proudest boast is that I can display Your best ideas so superbly plain. Trust me with tasks; delighted I'll obey! There goes my bell! Your honor I'll maintain! July, 1935.--_Daily Times_, Victoria. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {70} LXII. THE LINOTYPE Deft fingers touch the magic keys, and Lo! With jingling music, and with merry haste, The Letter-moulds come tumbling to be placed Like waiting Fairies in a rigid row; Then clamped, they're smothered in a fiery flow Of molten metal, on whose edge is traced The words the matrices have firmly spaced, And now a line-of-type drops down below. Then swoops upon the moulds the arm of fate, And lifts them back to that grim bar on high, Which, aye revolving, ruthlessly sedate, Seizes and drops them with a tinkling sigh, Back into that oblivion whence they came, Until the Keys once more a Summons frame! March 18, 1928.--_Inland Printer_, Chicago. A Hybrid Sonnet. {71} LXIII. PRINTING Great Thoughts by Art are shrined in Magic Words; The Writer's fluent Pen has set them down, To send them winging through the Land like Birds, In eager hope of winning Fair Renown; Yet, might they fall to Earth, mere useless sherds,-- So few could fare to read from Field and Town, But comes the Printer, and his loins upgirds, And dons, in mystic Task, his inky gown; Quick fly his Fingers o'er his lettered case, And soon a leaden setting in reverse, Is placed within his Press,--then round wheels race, And Lo! what countless copies to disperse! Now, all the Land is full of Eyes a-flame, As Thought meets Soul in Mutual Acclaim! A Shakespearean Sonnet. {72} LXIV. DESPAIR I climbed the sky, and swept down all the stars; I hid the Moon behind a mound of Grief; The Sun within a Well of Tears; no leaf I left on any Tree, and with great scars I gashed the flowered Meads; whatever mars The joy of Sight and Sound, I made my chief Abettors of Despair and crushed Belief; Emprisoning my Soul with brazen bars! I thought that Love was dead, and God a Lie, So Hope expired, and corpse-like lay I prone! But, Lo! you came, and in your gentle eye, I saw Love live, triumphant on his Throne! With Love alive, God still reigned King Supreme; So Hope revived, and died my horrid Dream! Aug. 31, 1928.--_Western Home Monthly_, Winnipeg. A Hybrid Sonnet. {73} LXV. GRAIN ELEVATORS Sky-towering Barrels rise in rigid rows, As holding Giants' Provender in store, While panting Trains rush up, and empty more, And yet still more, through mouths that scorn repose; Then, that which inward flowed, in turn outflows! Yea, Golden Streams from bursting nozzles pour, Repleting Cars and Ships, that heretofore Yearned, empty-mawed, some burden to enclose! See, Folk afar stretch out their eager hands, Craving a share of all this precious Wheat, For Death and Hunger stalk through many Lands, Snatching poor Mortals lacking Mortal's meat! But, while these Towering Barrels loom on high, Men's eyes can smile with hope, and Want defy! July 22, 1931.--_Onward_, Toronto. A Hybrid Sonnet. {74} LXVI. DREAM CASTLE I've built a Faery Castle for my Dreams!-- Itself a Dream, with turrets that aspire, All radiant in the crimson sunset-fire, Or scintillant in lustral moonlight beams! Although a Glory from each window streams, And bids me enter with my singing Lyre, Yet Fate has foiled fulfilment of Desire,-- Somehow a discord sullies all my Themes! Is it that you, the Sweetest Dream of all, Have not been here to enter at my side? Perchance, so now I send my loving call: "Come, enter, Sweet, my own beloved Bride! There you and I within its magic wall, Shall live our Dreams, and Love shall with us bide!" June 7, 1936.--_Daily Times_, Victoria. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {75} LXVII. THE SUN-BATHER I like to feel the fingers of the Sun Touching my Body with their warm caress, Like Angels' hands they seem to heal and bless, And make my blood in happy courses run; They seem to say to me: "We have begun For you a course of Nature's Wholesomeness, Now, aid yourself by Wisdom's No, and Yes, And Health will come to you, a Kingdom won! So, here I lie outstretched to all the Good That I can drink in from the Magic Rays; I feel they bring the Blessing that they should, Which grows and multiplies with passing days! Ills, in full flight, withdraw your horrid brood! And take, O Sun my thankful meed of Praise! July 31, 1934.--_Daily Journal_, Edmonton. A Petrarchan Sonnet. {76} LXVIII. TIMBERS They rose around me Pillaring the sky, Great giant Firs, in vasty aisles of shade; Their majesty a towering Temple made Devote to Silence, and to God on High! But now my Heart could raise a woeful cry, For all those Forest Monarchs are low-laid; Man has destroyed them with his axe's blade, That Men might market, and that Men might buy! Yet "Ichabod" shall not be written there, For "Glory" is not gone while "Use" remains! Utility makes compensations rare, For what the Forests lose, that Commerce gains! The World today needs Timbers sound and true, And for all such there's noble work to do! July 26, 1933.--_Daily Journal_, Edmonton. A Hybrid Sonnet. {77} LXIX. "AT GRANTFORT" We stand, O Grant, here where thy Doorstep lay, And bare our heads in honor of thy Name! Our gallant First of Settlers, we acclaim That eager Spirit thou didst e'er display! Through Men or trees thou hewedst out a way,-- Soldier, or Settler, both in manner same,-- Whate'er opposed thee bowed before that flame Urging thee onward, be it Task or Fray! Yet, thou didst go, with but five summers sped, Leaving thy Hearthstone to another's fire! Failure? Ah, No! 'Twas but that thy Heart pled For quicker fruitage as thy Labour's hire! To what seemed Ruin to thy shortened view, We say, "He builded better than he knew!" A Hybrid Sonnet. _Note.--Written for, and read, at "Grantfort," Sooke, B.C., the "Field Day" of the Historical Association, held at "Grantfort," the Residence of Major Cooke.[*] July 11, 1931. Grantfort is erected on the site of "Achaneach," the house built by Captain W. Colquhoun Grant, British Columbia's First Free Settler, in 1849._ [*] Sooke, V.I., B.C. {78} LXX. ALTAR SMOKE How like an Altar is my chimney there; And like an offering its fumes arise! Up, up they mount, just like ascending pray'r. Till sight no more can seek it in the skies. And daily is the sacrifice renewed, As on Moriah's Holy Height of old:-- A suit for Grace, and God's solicitude, That Peace and Plenty may my hearth enfold. Let this my Home fore'er a Temple be,-- A House of Refuge from the stress of Care, And symbol of the Pact, 'twixt God and me,-- This chimney-smoke uprising on the air! While I as Priest uplift my thankful hands, And send the blessing God Himself commands! --_Chatelaine_, Toronto, Ontario. A Shakespearean Sonnet. _The succeeding thirty numbers of these Lyrics are not in Sonnet form, but some are in other set forms, such as Rondeau, Triolet, or Villanelle._ {79} LXXI. STARS Across the boundless fields of Heaven Are strewn the Blossoms of the Night: Fair Flowers that open with the even, In petals of Celestial Light! (God planted them for men that grope: To cheer their Hearts, and bid them hope!) In darkest hours their faces shine With penetrating clearness there; (To all still Souls they are Divine: They calm and soothe like trustful Prayer!) Far, far they fleck those fields immense, (Yet Hands of Faith may pluck them thence.) June 16, 1934. LXXII. QUESTIONS I asked the Day, "Does God take thought of me?" No Voice responded from the Vale, or Height, But through a rift the Sun smiled airily, And all the landscape lilted in the light! I asked the Night, "Does God still love me so?" But Silence seemed to clog her cloudy bars: A soft, sweet Wind dispelled the Mist, and Lo! The deep, dark Sky was all a-thrill with Stars! Nov. 2, 1918.--_Unity_, Chicago, Ill. {80} LXXIII. LAWNS I love wide lawns so cool and green; Their velvet spaces smile serene, And lie outspread so smooth and fair, My heart is taken captive there; A peace steals o'er my restless mind; Care flies, and leaves no trace behind: A mellow glory gilds the hours, Like evening sunshine on the flowers; My troubled Soul is filled with calm, That soothes and heals, like Angels' Balm, And all things late disjoint, and rude, Are quelled in holy quietude! Yea, grand, clean thoughts drive out the mean, Where Lawns stretch out so cool and green! June 21, 1920.--_Rotary_, Chicago, Ill. {81} LXXIV. EAVES I like to see a house-roof crown its walls, With good substantial eaves, that overhang Sufficiently to give the roof the look Of weight,--a roof worth holding up in fact! These box-edged eaves flush with the vapid walls, That modern Architects oft perpetrate, Remind me of these frantic females, who Reduce their eyebrows to a frigid line, To ruin thus their brow's true symmetry. No, No, dear Builder, weight your roof well down With bold projecting eaves, bestowing thus A solid and impressive dignity! May 13, 1936.--_Victoria Chap Book_, 1936. {82} LXXV. DOORWAYS There's such a deal in Doorways, That ope to Home or Hall; They speak to one in more ways, Than window, roof or wall. To me, indeed, each house-front Is like a living face, Its character revealing In every tint and trace. Some houses smile a welcome; Some houses leer or frown, While others just look common, Like loafers round a town. Than other human features The mouth expresses more; So all the House-expression Is centred in the Door! Then, Builder, shape your House-mouth, So that its lips may spell A kindly Christian greeting From those who inside dwell. July 31, 1925.--_Door-Ways_, Aurora, Ill. {83} LXXVI. FREEDOM (_Terza Rima_) Oh, would that I could take the Eagle's wing, And soar up through the crystal aisles of air, My heart a-thrill at boundless wandering! Swift would my pinions mount in joyous dare, Straight toward the apex of the arching blue, Glad in the glory of the sunshine there. Full, lung-deep draughts would I ingather, too, Of that pure ether that doth endless flow Beyond the utmost star's faint shining hue: Draughts that would fill me with a tingling glow Searching my every fibre with a fire, That ever would but keener, sweeter grow, Till it attained the height of High Desire! Then would I float o'er leagues of lapping sea; Then o'er the piling mountain's topmost spire. All Earth below, all Heaven over me; Hither and yon, would I my course direct, Until my Soul were sated utterly; Until my heart could no new joy expect, But that sweet bliss of those who home return, With hope fulfilled, and all heart-hunger checked. There where my hearth-fires warm with comfort burn, Would I with friend and book the hours refill. With Freedom known, I would it gladly spurn, And bless the tender bonds of home-love still! {84} LXXVII. HARP OF TARA (_A Wish for Ireland_) Harp of Tara, Harp of Gladness! End for aye thy Years of Sadness! Sound no more of mournful dirges; Crying sore where Sorrow surges; Erin's Night of Darkness waneth; Now her Dawn of Morning gaineth! Wake anew her ancient voices, Till each glen in glee rejoices; Wake them into joyous singing; Let thy golden notes come winging, Sweet o'er hills, and plains, and valleys City streets, and darksome alleys; Tell the World in sounds beguiling, Erin's tears have turned to smiling! Let thy happy strings out-pealing, Bring to sad hearts Hope and Healing. Erin's Sons, and Erin's Daughters, Join the mirth of Erin's Waters, Rippling o'er their shingly shallows, Through the musk, and moss, and mallows; On through emerald meadows stretching; Many a curve and compass fetching, Till they reach the azure Ocean, All a-gleam with light and motion! Lark and throstle start their singing, And the whole Green Isle is ringing With the Songs of Freedom's Gladness, Banishing the Age-long Madness! Harp of Tara; Soul of Erin! Sound all Care out; sing all Cheer in; Lilt of Love, and Light, and Laughter; Song that leaves no Sighing after; Joy that had no thought of flying; Hope that lives all Grief defying! Then, O Harp of Tara, surely, Harp of God wilt thou be purely: Bringing down a Holy Leaven, Making Erin like to Heaven! March 28, 1927.--_Christian Family_, Evanston, Ill. {85} LXXVIII. ARIETTA (_Love_) There is a Power That blesses Life, In peaceful hour, Or time of strife! This Power is Love; 'Tis Life's main theme; From birth to death It is supreme! Love sighs and sorrows; Love laughs and sings: Love hurls us beggars; Love thrones us Kings! Love's all-pervading, From sky to sod! Love is Immortal, For Love is God! Feb. 13, 1937.--_Free Press_, Winnipeg, Man. {86} LXXIX. AUTUMN LEAVES Summer Danced in golden garments; Winter spied her at her play; Forward sprang and tried to catch her; Like the light she flashed away! Winter cried to Autumn: "Clutch Her!" Hold her in your iron clasp!" Autumn's fingers fast were numbing, But her vesture he did grasp! Summer wrenched herself to freedom, Spite of Autumn's stern commands, But she left her fairy garments, Golden tatters in his hands! Dec. 13, 1809.--_Contemporary Verse_, Philadelphia, Pa. {87} LXXX. I PROMISE YOU I. I promise you, that I will take your hand, And go with you to that sweet Summer Land, Where Love's fair Flowers blow for us alone, And we can cull and claim them for our own. Those Violets, that tell of Innocence, And breathe their fragrance everywhere, and whence Our Love shall feed, and grow more fondly true, I promise you, I promise you! II. I promise you, that I will lay my Heart Upon Love's Altar there, as set apart, For you, and you alone, for aye and aye, Till Earth and all its cares shall pass away, And Heaven with its endless Dawn of Peace Shall rise, and straightway shall our Love increase, And grow all-perfect in God's holy view, I promise you, I promise you! April 29, 1916.--_Western Home Monthly_, Winnipeg, Man. _A Reply Song to DeKouen's famous Song-- "O Promise Me"_ {88} LXXXI. NOVEMBER All clouds are grays; The wind bites! What spiteful days! What wild nights! How mourns the grass! The trees weep! Sad faces pass; All hearts sleep! All? No, there's one! One eye-gleam! Breaks through clouds dun, A sun-beam! Oft ashes cold A spark hide;-- A breath; Behold, A flame's spied! November chill,-- Numb hands, feet, But warm throbs still Thy Heart-beat! The sleepy Year's Last sigh, thou; His futile tears, Are done now! To all things rest, Is God's Law,-- The last is best! No scheme flaw! There are no Ends, Lasts firsts bring: When Winter wends,-- All Hail, Spring! July 12, 1918.--_Globe_, Toronto, Ont. {89} LXXXII. MY HIGHWAY O Highway, You're my way, Wherever you may lead; I'll thread you, And tread you, To Earth's far end, if need! You lure me; Assure me, And tempt me out along; You guide me, And tide me, And set my tongue a-song! Your turnings, And spurnings; Your up-the-hill and down, Delight me; Invite me, To city and to town. I yearn you, And learn you; I test your every winding; Your treasures, And pleasures, Are surely worth the finding! Yes, Highway, You're my way; You bid me far to roam, But, some time, Will come time, When safe you'll bring me home! June 23, 1935.--_Broadcast from "Beachcombers,"_ Ashtabula, O. {90} LXXXIII. THE ROBIN AND THE ROWAN TREE O Robin in the Rowan Tree, What do you there so busily? I see you flit and flutter; I hear you chirp and mutter! You make the branches shake and shiver The scarlet Berries nod and quiver; Some fall into the street; Are crushed beneath men's feet; But you go on unceasingly, You are a Wanton. Now, I see; You steal the Rowan's fruit; You're wasting it, to boot! All summer long she's held it fast; Each cluster safe from every blast, But stretched them to the sun, Who kissed them every one! They blushed blood-red for very glee, And were a gorgeous sight to see, All flaring 'mid the green, Gay leaves they shone between! But now the leaves are turned to gold, And one by one they lose their hold; October's winds at play, Are coaxing them away. And then you come, red-breasted thief, And fill the Rowan's dole of grief; You loot, with wicked pleasure Her ruby-tinted treasure. Ah, well, perhaps you're not so bad, But Glory passing makes one sad; We hate to see the end Of some loved thing or friend! You're helping Nature in her task, So do it thoroughly, I ask. Both you, and Wind, you pair, Must strip the Tree quite bare. Then unimpeded in the Spring, The Tree will start rebourgeoning, And greater glories blaze Throughout the summer days! Oct. 20, 1918.--_Ajax_, Alton, Ill. {91} LXXXIV. O CANADA O Canada, we sing thee glad acclaim! Our joyous Land, we hail thy honored Name! God send thee blessings from Above, And keep thee fair and free; Protect thy shores, O Land we love, And guard thy Unity! O Canada, for thee we stand, Firm all and fearless; strong in heart and hand, For God and King, our Home and Native Land! O Canada, our Fathers lived for thee; Fought, bled, and toiled for thy Prosperity! With brain and brawn, then, built they well, Foundations deep and sure, So that the Land wherein we dwell, Might live, and long endure! O Canada, for thee we stand, Firm all and fearless; strong in heart and hand, For God and King, our Home, and Native Land! April 11, 1920.--_Daily Times_, Victoria, B.C. {92} LXXXV. FLING WIDE THE DOORS TO CHRISTMAS Fling wide, O World, to Christmas Thy many doors today! Bid its good spirit enter, And let it have full sway; Let no clime miss its greeting, No people fail to hear Its message of rejoicing, Its melody of cheer! Hark, how the bells ring cheerily, To hail the Holy Morn, So light, and sweet, and merrily, Proclaiming, "Christ is born!" Fling wide, O Home, to Christmas Thy happy doors today! For Love comes with its footsteps, And Peace and Joy to stay. Let all within thy portals, Yield homage glad, sincere, And Christmas Day will ever With blessings crown the year. O Bells, ring out imploringly To all who moan or mourn, That they may come adoringly, And learn of Christ, new-born! Fling wide, my Heart, to Christmas Thy selfish doors today! Learn thou its holy music; Catch thou its golden ray; Then from thy depths will echo In tender tones again, The glorious Christmas tidings, "Peace and good will to men!" O Bells, ring, ring increasingly! Ring out all scathe and scorn! Ring out the news unceasingly That Christ, Love's King, is born! --_American Mutual Magazine_, Boston, Mass. {93} LXXXVI. HATS When she wears her old hat, She just looks a dowdy! As sure as that's that, When she wears her old hat, Just common and fat, She resembles a rowdy! When she wears her old hat, She just looks a dowdy! When she wears her new hat, She sure is a stunner! She knows where she's at When she wears her new hat! She knocks me as flat, As a sudden-tripped runner When she wears her new hat, She sure is a stunner! Feb. 28, 1938. A Triolet. {94} LXXXVII. IN PIACENZA I. In Piacenza, A sweet cadenza, Of a song came out to me I stood to listen, With stars a-glisten, My heart a-thrill with ecstasy! II. 'Twas cara mia, Divine Lucia, A-lilting to her friendly lute, Before disposing, For night's reposing, Her lovely form in slumber mute. III. The song was fleeting, Of lovers' sweeting, Yet full of tender charm and grace; It held me breathless Its magic deathless, Spread Love's own glamour o'er the place, IV. O Piacenza, That sweet cadenza Has throned thee all the Earth above, For in thy via, I heard Lucia, And on that night I learned to love! November 21, 1934. {95} LXXXVIII. LOVE'S ROSE (_Song Poem_) There is only one Rose in the wide, wide World, And it grows for me, and it blows for me; And the heart of that Rose is dew-impearled, Yet it grows for me; yet it blows for me! O my eyes they feast on its tints so clear! Does it grow for me? Does it blow for me? And its perfume fills my heart with cheer! Yes, it grows for me,--yes, it blows for me! Some day I will gather it from its rest, Still it grows for me; still it blows for me; And I'll place it so tenderly in my breast, For it grows for me, and it blows for me! Oct. 18, 1905.--_The Globe_, Toronto, Ont. {96} LXXXIX. TO LUCILE Lucile, Lucile, My heart you steal; You filch it with your eyes! But, Oh, Lucile, Some pity feel I pray you for your prize! If not, Lucile, 'Twill swift congeal, And shrivel in long sighs! Ah, then, Lucile, How will you feel, When all my love is dead? Your heart, Lucile, Will never heal; Your joy will all have fled! So, sweet Lucile, Come woe, come weal, Let our two hearts be wed! Summer, 1907.--_Western Home Monthly_, Winnipeg, Man. {97} XC. MY HOMELAND; CANADA I scorn no other land; No other Nation shun, But my heart's love, all lands above, Is centred upon one,-- The Land that brought me forth; That nurtured me in peace; That taught me love of Right and Worth, And bids my soul increase; The Land a-brim with beauty rare, My Homeland, Canada the Fair! 'Tis my Land and Thy Land That round about us lies! A Great Land, a Gate-Land, A Land of Shining Eyes; A New Land, a True Land, A Land that God doth bless; This Flower Land is Our Land, To build in Righteousness! Oh, live for Canada, So that her honored Name Might never smirched or sullied be, Or brought to scorn or shame; For she's our Mother dear: We owe her faith and trust, And reverence, and loyal fear,-- Our tribute due, and just,-- For her dear sake we'll do and dare, Our Homeland, Canada the Fair! {98} 'Tis My Land, and Thy Land, This Heritage outspread This Wide Land, this Bride-Land So bountiful with Bread! This keen Land, this Clean Land, This Land of Radiant Hue; This Flower-Land is Our Land To build by Service True! Jan. 20, 1929.--_Daily Province_, Vancouver, B.C. {99} XCI. POVERTY Loss and Lack may Growth deter; Let thy Soul refuse to bow; Poverty can be a Spur! When the Future seems a blur, Think thee of the needs of Now; Loss and Lack can Growth deter! Then bid all thy Powers stir; Thy roused Soul will show thee how Poverty can be a Spur! Careful tread lest thou shouldst err, Sinking deeper in the slough, Loss and Lack may Growth deter! Heedless of all slash and slur, To thyself do thou avow, "Poverty shall be my Spur!" Thou shalt be the Conqueror, Standing with uplifted brow! Loss and Lack did not deter; Poverty was but my Spur! April 8, 1931.--_Daily Province_, Vancouver, B.C. A Villanelle. {100} XCII. REPENTANCE He tore the Rose and trampled it, And cast it on the ground, But Zephyrs came consolingly, And bore its fragrance round; That Fragrance reached the Cruel One; He turned with guilty start, And, all in tears he raised the Rose, And placed it next his Heart! August 16, 1917.--_National Home Monthly_, Winnipeg. {101} XCIII. ON BEACON HILL--THE BROOM On Beacon Hill the Broom is out; Its golden flames are flung about, Along the blue sea's emerald rim And o'er the low Hill's curving brim, These Sinai-bushes blazing, shout! We saw them late, in sullen pout; "You can't praise God!" we cried in doubt, But now they vie with Seraphim, On Beacon Hill! The Whole Hill is one Glory-rout; Each Broom Bush, twig, and tiny sprout, Seems bursting forth in praise to Him, To farthest tip of tiniest limb, A floral Anthem, rich, devout, On Beacon Hill! --_Daily Times_, Victoria. Victoria, B.C., June 24, 1943. A Rondeau. {102} XCIV. ROSES I. You ask for a Rose; There's none in my Garden! You will grieve, I suppose; You ask for a Rose; And summer swift goes! So grant me your pardon; You ask for a Rose; There's none in my Garden! II. You'll have my first Rose, For late did I plant one: Don't turn up your nose; You'll have my first Rose, If the days don't oppose, And Providence grant one! You'll have my first Rose, For late did I plant one! III. Now, here is a Rose! The first from my Garden! 'Twas the gift that you chose, A rich blooming Rose! When Life reads its prose, Then things seem to harden But, here is a Rose, The first from my Garden! Feb. 28, 1938. A Lyric in Triolets. {103} XCV. A MILLION STARS The radiant Sun has left the skies, And Night has raised her sable bars; A million stars Smile at me with their blinking eyes! Each Star a speck of golden light, Yet each one darts his ray so true, As though he knew He was God's Lamp to bless my night! A lamp; a World! Stupendous plan! What Being less than very God, Could strew abroad A million Worlds to cheer a Man? April 13, 1912.--_East and West_, Toronto, Ont. {104} XCVI. THE SONG SUBLIME Sometimes as I sit in silence, To my ear there comes a tune, Faint, yet sweet as Song of Angels Wafted on a breath of June! All my being thrills with rapture, As the chant melodic swells; Right into my Soul it searches, Chiming like celestial bells! Almost I can hear the message That the music bears along; Yet my ears seem just too heavy So to sense the magic Song! But my Heart can faintly fathom What those tones would peal abroad; For it flies from brooding sorrow, Seeking Love, and Peace, and God. Oh! that I could voice its music; Mould its thoughts in ringing rhyme; All the World would pause to listen: That would be the Song Sublime! Feb. 24, 1917.--_Cycle_, Homestead, Florida {105} XCVII. THE SCHOOL ELMS Before the brick-red Schoolhouse Six lordly Elm-Trees rise With arms outstretched to shade the Earth, And up to bless the Skies; All summer long in gladness They've flourished cool and green, A dream of leafy loveliness In cities seldom seen. But now the suns of autumn, Have turned them golden brown. And oftentimes a gleaming shower October's wind brings down. Down, down the leaves come floating, And the children, one and all, Strive in their wholesome joyousness, To catch them e'er they fall. Each Tree's a Giant Chalice, Heaped full of fairy flakes That Knowledge scatters far and wide For her Disciples' sakes! Then, catch them, children, catch them, And cast them not away, And the Tree will burgeon in your hearts, For ever and a day! Oct. 25, 1913.--_English Journal_, Chicago. _Six lovely Elm Trees used to stand in front of South Park School in Victoria, B.C._ {106} XCVIII. YOUTH AND LOVE The hours are glad, the skies for ever fair, When Youth and Love go gaily, hand in hand, And eyes are gates to Realms sublime and rare, Where Joy and Beauty tread the Faery Strand. Care has no Castle in this Flowery Land, And Trouble trims his flight to sterner air; The hours are glad, the skies for ever fair When Youth and Love go gaily hand in hand. Then Memory's fingers Weave a Crown to wear, That Time's all-blighting buffets can withstand,-- A fadeless garland stored with visions there, To charm tired ages at its sweet command. The hours are glad, the skies forever fair, When Youth and Love go gaily hand in hand. Aug. 8, 1910.--_Westminster_, Toronto, Ont. A Rondel. {107} XCIX. ON CANNON BEACH--OREGON On Cannon Beach the great surfs dash, Where rocky giants fume and gnash Their iron teeth in fruitless rage, When flooding seas fling down the gage, And dare the conflict and the clash. The greedy waves rude warfare wage On Hearth's grim keeps from age to age, And one by one her warders crash On Cannon Beach. O fickle winds, reverse your lash Of flying scud; nor aid the rash Bold billows spoil our heritage! But, see, the sands scorn vassalage! Compact, their force all foes abash On Cannon Beach! Aug. 18, 1919.--_National Marine_, New York A Rondeau. {108} C. STAND FAST, O CANADA! Stand fast, O Canada! The World is all a-flame With passionate rebellion; Dark deeds of blood and shame Are flaunted in our faces In Freedom's slandered name! You braved the Prussian Horde: That enemy lies prone-- But subtler foes plot ruin In fields that are your own; They seek to raise strange structures On your dear hopes o'erthrown. Hold fast, young Canada! You've shown the World you're brave The times now test your wisdom, So let no lawless wave Flood o'er your land and level Your glory to its grave. Think hard, dear Canada! Good things are worth your care; Let God, and Home, and Honor Be jewels, precious, rare. And Peace, and Law, and Order Their setting true and fair. Stand fast, Our Canada! Your past had noble root; No future can be worthy That scorns its natal shoot! Then, let your growth be steady, And rich shall be your fruit. July 31, 1919.--_The New Magazine_, Toronto. Printed in Canada by Diggon-Hibben Limited Victoria, B.C. [The end of _My Nugget-Poke_ by Donald A. Fraser]