War In The North

Winter's tyrant king retires;
Spring leads on her legion choirs
Where the hedges sound their lyres;
The victor hills and valleys
Ring merrily the tune:
April cohorts guard the way
For the great enthroning day,
When the Princess of May
Shall wed within our northlands
The charming Prince of June.

Michael Earls

Michael Earls, born on November 2, 1875, and died on November 7, 1937, was an American poet, playwright, and Jesuit priest. He was a prolific writer, contributing to numerous American periodicals and magazines. His works often explored themes of faith, nature, and human experience. He was known for his engaging style and profound insights into spirituality and everyday life. Earls had a significant influence on Catholic literature in America during the early 20th century.

Michael Earls

The Dark Little Rose

Michael Earls, Simple Poetry

Linden Lane

Michael Earls, Simple Poetry

Bethlehem

Michael Earls, Simple Poetry

War In The North

Michael Earls, Simple Poetry

English

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War In The North

Not from Mars and not from Thor
Comes the war, the welcome war,
Many months we waited for
To free us from the bondage
Of Winter's gloomy reign:
Valor to our hope is bound,
Songs of courage loud resound,
Vowed is Spring to win her ground
Through all our northern country,
From Oregon to Maine.

All our loyal brave allies
In the Southlands mobilize,
Faith is sworn to our emprise,
The scouting breezes whisper
That help is sure today:
Vanguards of the springtime rains
Cannonade the hills and plains,
Freeing them from Winter's chains,
So birds and buds may flourish
Around the throne of May.

Hark! and hear the clarion call
Bluebirds give by fence and wall!
Look! The darts of sunlight fall,
And red shields of the robins

Michael Earls

The Bonnie Prince O' Spring

The little green soldiers are here at last,
With their waving blades and spears;
And across the hills they are marching fast
With the drill of a thousand years:
And I wave afar, and I shout, Hurrah!
Till I hear their echoing cheers.

A bonnie prince is at their head,
And his love the legions know:
For he gives them rest where the twigs are red
At the hedges cool in a row:
And afoot are they soon to a birdlike tune
On the northward march to go.

Oh, I am leal to the marching men,
To my bonnie Prince I'm true;
For he tells me the way to his tented glen,
And the secret password too:
And he sets in my hair a blossom to wear,
Like his own good horsemen do.

Then I will follow on all the day
Where the bonnie Prince has led,
Till we...

Michael Earls

A Song

(For John McCormack)


June of the trees in glory,
June of the meadows gay!
O, and it works a story
To tell an October day.

Blooms of the apple and cherry
Toil for the far-off hours;
Never is idleness merry,
In song of the garden bowers.

Brooks to the sea from mountains,
Yea, and from field and vine:
Rain and the sun are fountains
That gather for wheat and wine.

Cellar and loft shall glory,
Table and hearth shall praise,
Hearing October's story
Of June and the merry days.

Michael Earls

Linden Lane

HOLY CROSS: MAY, 1917

(For Major Joseph W. O'Connor, '03)


Birds are merry and the buds
Come along with May:
Lonely is the linden land
For lads that went today.

What calls the May of song
But the fair young spring?
Heard our boys another tune
Sterner voices sing.

Bugles blew by land and sea,
And the tocsin drum;
See, brave hearts go down the hill,
Shouting, "Hail, we come."

From the towers that show the Cross,
Staunch the Flag waved out,
And the royal Purple shook
Joyous with the shout.

Heigh-ho! And a lusty cheer,
Down the linden lane:
The pine grove looked but cannot tell
If they'll come home again.

Few may take the homeward road
When the war is done:
Where they fall or wh...

Michael Earls

Bethlehem

O ye who sail Potomac's even tide
To Vernon's shades, our Chieftain's hallowed mound;
Or who at distant shrines high paeans sound
In Alfred's cult, old England's morning pride;
Or seek Versailles, conceited as a bride,
With garish memories of kins strewn round;
Or lay your spirit's cheek on Forum ground,
For here a mighty Caesar lived and died:
To these and other stones, O ye who speed,
Since there, forsooth, a prince was passing great,
More zealous let your heart's adoring heed
The Child most Royal in a crib's estate.
No poor so poor, no king more king than He:
Come, better pilgrims, to this mystery.

Michael Earls

Spring

Hark how the merry daffodils,
Fling golden music to the hills!
And how the hills send echoing down,
Through wind-swept turf and moorland brown,
The murmurs of a thousand rills
That mock the song-birds' liquid trills!
The hedge released from Winter's frown
Shews jewelled branch and willow crown;
While all the earth with pleasure trills,
And 'dances with the daffodils.'

Out, out, ye flowers!    Up and shout!
Staid Winter's passed and Spring's about
To lead your ranks in joyous rout;
To string the hawthorn's milky pearls,
And gild the grass with celandine;
To dress the catkins' tasselled curls,
To twist the tendrils of the vine.
She wakes the wind-flower from her sleep,
And lights the woods with April's moon;
The violets lift their heads to p...

Michael Fairless