Helen Leah Reed

Helen Leah Reed (1860-1926) was an American author and poet, renowned for her contributions to children's literature and her historical novels. She was an influential literary figure of her time, often remembered for her stories that blended education with entertainment. Reed's works reflected her deep knowledge and interest in history, making her a notable figure in early 20th-century American literature.

June 28, 1860

June 23, 1926

English

Helen Leah Reed

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A Canadian Trooper To His Horse

    Rest here, my horse, the night is dull, - the blood-sick stars are gone,
    Listen, for thou like me wert bred in far Saskatchewan.
    And this September night at home, under a happier sky,
    The bursting yellow sheaves upon the unbounded prairie lie.
    Bread, bread - the staff and stay of life - 'tis what the wheatlands yield;
    But only death and agony are gathered from this field.

    There's respite now, but ah! good friend, before another day,
    Although our bodies may be here, we, we, how far away!
    We've ridden many a weary mile, together we have fought
    For Freedom, honor and the right, and anything we've wrought
    Our Country to the Empire will still more closely bind.
    Ah! where the reddened maple leaf is fluttering in the wind,
    There ...

Helen Leah Reed

A Curiosity

    I knew a little boy, not very long ago,
    Who was as bright and happy as any boy you know.
    He had an only fault, and you will all agree
    That from a fault like this a boy himself might free.

    "I wonder who is there, oh, see! now, why is this?"
    And "Oh, where are they going?" and "Tell me what it is?"
    Ah! "which" and "why" and "who," and "what" and "where" and "when,"
    We often wished that never need we hear those words again.

    He seldom stopped to think; he almost always knew
    The answer to the questions that around the world he threw.
    To children seeking knowledge a quick reply we give,
    But answering what he asked was pouring water through a sieve.
    Yet you'll admit his fate was as sad as it was strange.
    Our eyes w...

Helen Leah Reed

A Fancy

    The world of dreams is all my own,
    Wherein I wander - free, alone; -
            And each weird, fervid fantasy
            Is dearer than earth's joys to me.
    The waking world I share with you;
    And yours, as mine, is the ocean's blue.
            For us both spring's early flowers are fair,
            Or the cold stars gleam through the frosty air.

    But in the world of dreams I rove
    Over sunny fields, or in shaded grove, -
            Such beauty your eyes never saw -
            And all is mine without let or law.
    Ah! the hopes and fears that come and go
    With my flying fancy, none may know;
            Though unsubstantial, it seems
            My real world - this world of dreams.

Helen Leah Reed

A Hero

    Like many another I have crossed
        Oftener than once the broad Atlantic,
    And - feeling qualms when tempest-tossed,
        Have shuddered at the waves gigantic,
            Fearing that really nevermore
            I'd find myself again ashore.

    Then when - upset - and scarce awake,
        In moments of perturbed reflection,
    My wandering thoughts would slowly take
        Time and again the same direction.
            I'd think of that adventurous man,
            Who crossed the sea - first of my clan.

    'Tis not for me to hope to find
        Upon my family tree's broad branches
    Ancestors wholly to my mind;
        I know that I am taking chances
            In digging them up from the past
            To deck thi...

Helen Leah Reed

A Liberty Bond

    A liberty bond! What a queer contradiction!
    Although truth, as you've heard, may be stranger than fiction.
    For Liberty should from all fetters release us,
    While bonds hold one fast, whether pauper or Croesus.
    Yet a Liberty Bond - I'd advise you to buy it -
    Will ensure you your freedom - you'll see when you try it.
    'Twill aid you to conquer foes cruel, despotic,
    'Twill help save your Country, come, be patriotic!
    A Liberty Bond - I'd advise you to buy one -
    Will ensure you your freedom - rejoice when you try one!

Helen Leah Reed

A Modern Grandmother

    I want to see a grandmother like those there used to be,
    In a cosy little farm-house, where I could go to tea;
    A grandmother with spectacles and a funny, frilly cap,
    Who would make me sugar cookies, and take me on her lap,
    And tell me lots of stories of the days when she was small,
    When everything was perfect - not like today at all.

    My grandmother is "grandma," and she lives in a hotel,
    And when they ask "What is his age?" she smiles and will not tell.
    Says she doesn't care to realize that she is growing old;
    Then whispers - "But you're far too big a boy for me to hold."
    Her dresses shine and rustle, and her hair is wavy brown,
    And she has an automobile, that she steers, herself, down town.

    My grandmother is pretty....

Helen Leah Reed

A Palinode. I-16 (From The Odes Of Horace)

    Oh, daughter, lovelier than your lovely mother,
        Whatever punishment you may desire
        Give my offending verses; in the fire
    Throw them, please you, or in the Adriatic.
    Not Dindymene, no, nor even Apollo
        So shakes the minds of priests within the shrine;
        Nor so disturbing is the God of wine,
    Nor Corybantes doubling their shrill cymbals,
    As direful fits of anger that are frightened
        Neither by Noric sword nor savage flame,
        Nor by ship-wrecking seas, nor them can tame
    Great Jupiter himself, with all his thunders.
    To our original clay, they say Prometheus
        Was forced to add a portion he had made
        Of bits from every creature, and he laid
    In human hearts rage from the furious lion.

Helen Leah Reed

A Victim

    My Auntie has a camera, and when I'm out at play
    And see her coming with it, I try to hide away.
    For oh, it is so bothersome to hear her, with a laugh,
    Call, "Stand just were you are, dear; I'll take a photograph."

    Sometimes, an angry lion, I have just begun to roar,
    And all the children run from me to sneak behind the door,
    When Auntie to our forest comes - why does she stop our fun?
    I'd like to shoot that camera there with my wooden gun.

    Perhaps, a fire engine, I am rushing to a fire,
    While people loudly call for help as flames rise higher and higher.
    I hurry toward the hydrant here, for oh! the flames are hot!
    When Auntie with her camera cries, "What a fine snapshot!"

    But then it doesn't seem to snap, so I m...

Helen Leah Reed

Ah! Little Lake

    Ah! little lake, though fair thou art,
        A sapphire flashing to the sky,
        Thy charm is only for the eye,
    Thy beauty cannot hold my heart.

    Green hill-sides bending to thy shore
        Gleam clear in the autumnal light,
        While far above, Monadnock's height
    Keeps rugged guard thy waters o'er.

    And yet these very beauties cloy;
        As in a prison I am bound,
        Though fair the walls that gird me round,
    My housemate is no longer joy.

    Thy loveliness breeds discontent,
        For far my foolish heart would be,
        It longs for the unquiet sea,
    And with desire is sorely rent.

    Hateful the walls that me debar
        From happier things that haunt me so,
        Even ...

Helen Leah Reed

At Miami

    Here, where the proud hibiscus blooms in flame,
        Where swaying palms nod lightly to the sea,
        Where each azalea towers - a stately tree -
    And orange blossoms charm, today I came
    Upon a little flower unknown to fame,
        Half hid in the scant sward, white as this shell
        From yonder beach, and I can hardly tell
    What drew me to it, murmuring its name.

    "Bred in cool meadows, vagrant from the North,
        Fair Dewberry, what art thou doing here?
        Or chance, or purpose started thee to roam?
    And yet whatever power sent thee forth,
        Still it is thine to call the sudden tear,
        To stir the trembling heart with thoughts of home."

Helen Leah Reed

Cassandra

    Of all the luckless women ever born,
        Or ever to be born here on our earth,
        Most pitied be Cassandra, from her birth
    Condemned to woes unearned by her. Forlorn,
    She early read great Ilium's doom, and tried,
        Clear-eyed, clear-voiced, her countrymen to warn.
        But - she Apollo's passion in high scorn
    Had once repelled, and of his injured pride
    The God for her had bred this punishment, -
        That good, or bad, all things she prophesied
        Though true as truth, should ever be decried
    And flouted by the people. As she went
    Far from old Priam's gates among the crowd,
        To save her country was her heart intent.
        Pure, fearless, on an holy errand bent,
    They called her "mad," who was a Prince...

Helen Leah Reed

Flowers For Brave Soldiers

    Flowers for brave soldiers,
    Flowers for those who gave us
    A Country undivided.
    Flowers for the dead!

    With flags we are marking
    Their last earth-dwelling.
    Our hearts are bending
    In gratitude,
    While we are praying
    That this our Nation
    Pass safe through peril,
    Through deadly war.

    Flowers for brave soldiers -
    Flowers for those who loved us,
    Flowers to their memory,
    This fair spring day!

Helen Leah Reed

Frightened

    Today I had the awfulest time,
        Dear mother, in the wood.
    That hill out there we were to climb,
        And we'd been very good.
    But nurse was walking up the hill,
        When little Anne and I,
    We had to stop and stand quite still,
        And Anne began to cry.

    For something moved behind the trees,
        We felt so all alone -
    Said I to Anne, "Stop crying, please,
        I'll hit it with a stone."
    Cried Anne, "Oh, listen, hear it growl."
        Said I, "I'm not afraid
    Of bears or lions." "Now don't scowl.
        You look so cross," she said.
    So then I had to smile and smile, for Anne was crying all the while.
    And if we didn'thear a bear, I'm sure, dear mother, one was there.

  ...

Helen Leah Reed

His Monument

    From top to pedestal you scan it lightly -
    Capped head to lettered base - and you are smiling.
    What see you there to set your lips a-quiver?
    An awkward figure cut from ugly granite,
    Aye, roughly hewn, as if unhelped by chisel,
    This peaceful man of war, sculptured grotesquely.
    Still - there is metal in the gun he is holding,
    And in the cannon balls piled up before him -
    The artist's symbols of a real soldier.
    Yet jeer no longer!
    Before you is a soldier of the Union,
    Crowned with the tears and prayers of many mourners.
    The Village set him here for all to honor,
    Here, in the centre of their foot-worn common,
    Where on long, summer evenings boys at baseball
    May gaze and gaze, and make him an example;
 ...

Helen Leah Reed

Horace And Lydia. III-9 (From The Odes Of Horace)

    "One time when I was pleasing to you, Lydia,
        And when no other youth, preferred to me,
    Your snowy neck could with his arms encircle,
        Then happier I than Persia's King may be."

    "When of another you were less enamored,
        Nor ranked me after Chloe in your love,
    Then I, your Lydia, of wide reputation,
        Than Roman Ilia more renowned could prove."

    "Now Thracian Chloe, skilled in mellow measures,
        And expert on the harp, holds me her slave,
    To die for her would never cause me terror,
        If her - my soul - the Fates alive would save."

    "'Tis Calais, Ornytus' son, the Thurian,
        Who now consumes me with a mutual fire,
    Ah! death for him twice over would I suffer,
        Would but...

Helen Leah Reed

If Love Were All

    If Love were all, how dark the world!
        What sorrow for the stricken heart!
            If Love were all, with Love grown cold -
            No tempest raging bleak and bold,
    Its icy fury ever hurled
        As madly as the storms that dart
            Across the soul when Love is dead.
            Poor soul, on bitter passion fed,
            Seeing in Earth or Heaven - no bliss,
            When Love has died in Love's last kiss.
    If Love were all!

    If Love were all, how fair the earth!
        What joy in every heart-throb here!
            If Love were all, and Love were kind,
            Love's message, blown on every wind,
    Thrilling the soul, would give small worth
        To cringing caution, or the jeer
            Of...

Helen Leah Reed

Jack Frost

    Oh! it is little Margery who has a garden-bed,
    Wherein grow purple pansies and geraniums white and red,
    With feverfew and dahlias, and delicate pink phlox,
    And grandmother's fair favorites, old-fashioned hollyhocks.

    One night we feared Jack Frost might come to blight the tender flowers -
    We almost felt his cruel breath in the early evening hours;
    So Margery took coverings and spread them, thick and warm,
    To shield the flowers, as blankets wrap a sleeping baby's form.

    Then in the morning, when we looked across the dewy grass,
    And saw the traces Jack Frost leaves where he is wont to pass -
    For each spreading tree and slender bush had felt his chill caress,
    And some had drooped, and some had blushed in crimson loveliness -
...

Helen Leah Reed

Life And Death

    "Death after life" shall we sigh as we say it,
        Sigh as if death were the end for us all,
    Pale at the thought, as in silence we weigh it,
        Yield our dull souls to it, bending in thrall?

    "Life after death" - look ahead, weakling spirit -
        Sure is the way to a world that is ours.
    Death is fruition, why then should we fear it?
        Death - the fruition of life's budding powers.

Helen Leah Reed

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