Song.

"Tshirr!" scolds the oriole
    Where the elms stir,
Flaunting her gourd-like nest
On the tree's swaying crest:
"May's here, I cannot rest,
    Go away; tshirr!"

"Tshirr!" scolds the oriole
    Where the leaves blur,
Giving her threads a jerk,
Spying where rivals lurk,
"May's here, and I'm at work.
    Go away, tshirr!"

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley

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Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley

Song

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley, Simple Poetry

Rondeau. - It Might Have Been.

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley, Simple Poetry

Prayer.

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley, Simple Poetry

A Song of Rest.

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley, Simple Poetry

English

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Song.

Joy came in youth as a humming-bird,
    (Sing hey! for the honey and bloom of life!)
And it made a home in my summer bower
With the honeysuckle and the sweet-pea flower.
    (Sing hey! for the blossoms and sweets of life!)

Joy came as a lark when the years had gone,
    (Ah! hush, hush still, for the dream is short!)
And I gazed far up to the melting blue
Where the rare song dropped like a golden dew.
    (Ah! sweet is the song tho' the dream be short!)

Joy hovers now in a far-off mist,
    (The night draws on and the air breathes snow!)
And I reach, sometimes, with a trembling hand
To the red-tipped cloud of the joy-bird's land.
    (Alas! for the days of the storm and the snow!)

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley

Weariness.

This April sun has wakened into cheer
    The wintry paths of thought, and tinged with gold
    These threadbare leaves of fancy brown and old.
This is for us the wakening of the year
    And May's sweet breath will draw the waiting soul
    To where in distance lies the longed-for goal.

The summer life will still all questioning,
    The leaves will whisper peace, and calm will be
    The wild, vast, blue, illimitable sea.
And we shall hush our murmurings, and bring
    To Nature, green below and blue above,
    A whole life's worshipping, a whole life's love.

We will not speak of sometime fretting fears,
    We will not think of aught that may arise
    In future hours to cloud our golden skies.
Some souls there are who love their woes and tears,

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley

A Song of Dawn.

In the east a lightening;
Where the woods are chill
Moves an unseen finger,
Wakes a sudden thrill;

In my soul a glimmer,
Hush! no words are heard!
In heart-ambush hidden
Chirrup of a bird;

Tremble heart and forest
Like a frightened fawn,
Gleam the distant tree-tops,
Hither comes the dawn!

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley

Song.

Red gleams the mountain ridge,
    Slow the stream creeps
Under the old bent bridge,
    And labor sleeps.

There are no restless birds,
    No leaves that stir,
Dusk her gray mantle girds,
    Night's harbinger.

The storm-soul's change and start
    Pause, lull, and cease;
In my unquiet heart
    Is born a peace.

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley

Song

Where is the waiting-time?
    Where are the fears?
Gone with the winter's rime,
    The bygone years.

O'er life's plain, lone and vast,
    Slow treads the morn,
Night shades have moved and passed,
    Joy's day is born.

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley

Noon.

No ripple stirs the water,
No song-bird wakes the grove,
Calm noon-tide sways his sceptre,
And hushes even love.

On earth the sun-god bending
Poureth his wondrous store;
The soft-tongued tide, advancing,
Laps the unconscious shore.

The long, low isle of marsh-land
Stretches in weary waste,
By sloping sand-banks guarded,
By winding weeds embraced.

Comes clearly from the open
The plash of distant oars, -
Over the rocky headland
The snow-white sea-gull soars.

I see as if through dream-clouds,
I hear from far away.
The scorched air breathes its opiate,
The drowsy fancies stay;

I have no hopes or longings,
I scarce can feel your kiss, -
For thought, and joy and worship,
Another hour than this!

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley