Helen Leah Reed

    Behold a long procession passing proudly,
    And yet no glittering pomp adorns its way,
    Only the emblems of our States and Nation,
    Only the flags that floated on the day
    These men, our men, trod upon fields of glory; -
    The tattered flags that this Grand Army bore
    For the Republic - flags that furled and faded
    To their old vividness our hearts restore.
    The line of veterans once firm and crowded,
    The long, long line is wavering and thin;
    With faltering steps Old Age speaks mutely to them
    Youth marched abreast when they were mustered in.

    Oh, Comrades of the Campfire and the Council,
    Oh, Comrades who in peril won your fight!
    Honor to you and to your dead companions,
    You risked your all for Liberty and R...

    The hardy youth, my friends, in bitter warfare
        To narrow poverty must learn to bend,
    And, for his spear a horseman to be dreaded,
        Courageous Parthians into flight must send.
    And he must try all dangerous adventures,
        His life out in the open he must pass;
    The warring tyrant's wife and growing daughter
        Him spying from their hostile walls, "Alas,"
    They sigh - for fear the royal husband,
        Unskilled in warlike arts, should dare attack
    This lion, fierce to touch, whom bloody anger
        Into the midst of slaughter has dragged back.
    'Tis sweet and fit to perish for one's country,
        Death follows fast upon the man who flees,
    Nor spares the coward backs of youth retreating,
        Nor saves them...

    We saw the Regiment, alert and strong,
        In marching line, on Soldiers' Field today,
    Ah! ready they to battle with the wrong; -
        This flower of youth - eager and brave and gay.

    And we, on-looking, cheered them as they passed,
        And we, down-heartened, prayed a silent prayer,
    Gazing upon them with a grim forecast,
        And many a sad-eyed mother watched them there.

    Proudly they turned, and at attention stood,
        Or shouldered arms while war-like music thrilled.
    "Alas!" we listened in unhappy mood!
        "Why should these boys in martial ways be skilled?"

    No comfort for our grieving was revealed,
        Until we looked across the valiant line
    To the old College, far beyond this Field
    ...

    Sorrowful pleading on her face is written
    With love commingled, and my heart throbs fast,
    Flooded with currents of a deep emotion
    Stirred by the memory of that awful past.
    Note the sad gaze of him who bends above her,
    What say his eyes in answer to her own?
    What did he think as tenderly he kissed her?
    What was the meaning of his whispered tone?
    Spoke he of honor's claim poor love's outweighing,
    Or did her circling arms so well enfold
    That the white kerchief wearing-badge of safety -
    He passed the lurking foe with spirit bold.

    Ah, they are vanished now - the maid and lover,
    Their history the wisest cannot tell.
    Mayhap upon that night of cruel slaughter,
    Eager to meet the zealot's hate he fell.

    You are the loveliest parasol
        I ever saw, - and all my own, -
    What frilly frills! I feel as tall
    As mother now. Here! take my doll.
        Dolls are for children - ladies grown
    Have parasols, and fans, and rings,
    And all those pretty, shiny things.

    Nurse calls you "sunshade," but I think
        That is too plain a word, for see!
    You are so satiny and pink
    And there is such a curly kink
        Here in your handle, there could be
    No name too fine, I love you so,
    I'll take you everywhere I go.

    Next Sunday when to church I walk,
        Above my head I'll hold you high.
    Oh! how the other girls will talk,
    And maybe some of them will mock,
        "How proud she feels," as I pass by...

    Said the Bicycle to the Automobile:
    "How high and mighty and gay you feel;
    Yet I can remember the day when I
    Would let no other one pass me by
    Cart horse and roadster and racehorse too,
    Far ahead of them all I flew.
    Now my tires are unpumped and my warning bell
    The attention of nobody can compel.

    "Though you maim your thousands where I hurt one,
    Though ten times my farthest is your day's run,
    Still I have been learning while lying here,
    That a rival's coming for you to fear.
    I have heard them talk of a wonderful thing,
    That can fly in the air like a bird on the wing,
    That can carry a man over land, over sea;
    In a twinkling he is where he wishes to be.

    "So swiftly it speeds, in a we...

    That it be love, I dare not say,
    I only know when he's away,
    Dark as the night, so dark the day.

    But still he'll rove, and still I'll try
    Some light to see in yon grim sky.

    For I will prove if power there be
    To lead him through the night to me
    In that soul-star, - fair Constancy.

    'Twas a Spanish galleon sailed the seas, -
        Two centuries since have rolled -
    Laden with silver and gems to please
        Gay dames and gallants bold.

    But villainous pirates seized the ship
        As homeward she was bound;
    Ah, she has made her last long trip
        For they ran her soon aground.

    From Oakum Bay into Marblehead
        They brought one lady fair, -
    Her husband, alas, and his crew are dead,
        And her they will not spare.

    Loud, loud she shrieked in the pirates' arms,
        "Oh, save me - Jesu, save!"
    Cruel echo mocked at her wild alarms,
        As they dug her a nameless grave.

    Yet once a year when the night has come
        That saw her dreadful death,
    Y...

    There soars a warbler toward high Heaven,
        His course seems sure and straight; -
    So speeds an arrow from the bow-string,
        Yet who can read his fate!

    For while he carols like a seraph
        Bound for a radiant star
    Mayhap the fowler's eye, relentless,
        Has doomed him from afar.

    A longer life the crawling snail hath
        Than thou - O wanderer bright -
    Ah, let the sluggard crawl in safety,
        Thine is the realm of light!

    Like thee a soaring soul's in peril,
        Yet its one hour is worth
    A whole Eternity of grovelling
        Closer to grimy earth.

    Out of the misty North
        A stealthy foeman stole;
        Far from the haunted Pole
    On the wide sea went he forth,

    And he met a giant ship
        As he scoured the sea for toll
        It cannot reach its goal
    Crushed in his icy grip.

    "Of every four just three"
        This was his deadly dole.
        Unseen he called the roll
    Ah! a cold grave is the Sea.

    Yet the Sea is not the end,
        And Life is not the whole.
        Over each heroic soul
    Shall Eternity extend.

    Sage of the silver pen!
        Wherever thy thought was heard,
    Thou wert a leader of men.
        Poet of honored word!
    Knight of the eagle glance,
        Piercing the depths of wrong,
    "Justice" thy cry, and thy lance
        True in its aim, and strong.

    Man of the ruddy heart
        Beating warm for our kind!
    Thine was the hero's part;
        Eyes wert thou to the blind:
    Thou a staff to the weak,
        Here we our tribute lay -
    Homage thou didst not seek -
        Twined with a wreath of bay,
    A garland woven of love,
        Woven of love and tears,
    Pure as the note of a dove,
        Voicing thy peaceful years.

        (Read at the Memorial Meeting Nov. 20, 1911.)

    What prays the poet of enshrined Apollo?
        What is he asking for with lifted hands,
    Pouring a fresh libation from his flagon? -
        Not fertile crop from rich Sardinian lands, -
    Not the fair herds of sultry, damp Calabria, -
        Not even Indian ivory and gold; -
    Nor meadows that the Liris, silent river,
        With sluggish flow has nibbled, as it rolled.
    Let those whom Fortune has endowed with vineyards,
        With the Calenian knife their grapevines trim,
    Let the rich merchant from his golden goblet
        Drink wine by Syrian traffic bought for him.
    Dear to the very gods he three times yearly,
        Yes four times, travels the Atlantic Sea
    Unharmed. But I - I feed myself on olives,
        Ay, succory and soft ...

    With kindly thought I'd give, Oh Censorinus,
        Bowls and bronze vases pleasing to each friend;
    Tripods I'd offer, prizes of brave Grecians,
        And not the worst of gifts to you I'd send
    Were I, forsooth, rich in such artist's treasure
        As Scopas and Parrhasius could convey,
    This one in stone, and that in liquid color,
        Skilled here a man, - a god there to portray.
    But mine no power like this, nor does your spirit
        Or your affairs need luxuries so choice.
    Songs we can give, and on the gift set value,
        Songs we can give, and you in songs rejoice.
    Not marble carved with popular inscriptions
        Whereby the spirit and the life return
    After their death unto our upright leaders,
        Nor Hannib...

    Ah Chloe, like a fawn you now elude me,
        Seeking its timid dam on lonely hills,
    Its dam who not without an idle tremor
        At breezes in the forest thrills.
    For if before the breeze the bushes quiver
        With rustling leaves, or if green lizards start
    Across the bramble, then it is it trembles, -
        This little fawn - in knees and heart.
    But Chloe, I am not a cruel tiger,
        Nor a Gætulian lion, thee to chase;
    And now that thou art old enough to marry,
        Beside thy mother take thy place.

    Oh, Fuscus, he whose life is pure and upright,
        Wants not the Moorish javelin nor the bow,
    Nor may he need the quiver, heavy laden
        With arrows poisoned for the lurking foe.
    Whether he is about to make a journey
        To sultry Libya, or the unfriendly height
    Of Caucasus, or to the distant places
        That famed Hydaspes washes in his flight.
    For lately me a wolf fled in the forest -
        The Sabine forest, as my Lalage
    I sang about, - beyond my boundaries wandering,
        Care-free, unarmed - the creature fled from me.
    Apulia, land of soldiers, never nourished
        In her broad woods a monster of such girth,
    Nor Mauritania, arid nurse of lions,
        To such a one has ever given birth.
    Ah, put m...

    Gay Summer sees the flowering
    Of buds that were the gift of Spring;
    And Winter counts the ripened sheaves
    That Autumn harvested. Who grieves
    When he at length has won the race,
    Or backward then his way would trace?

    Oh, honored Poet, Wit, and Sage,
    This birthday marks an open page,
    And here before its record's writ,
    These words we would inscribe on it.
    "Thou, upon whom thy years fourscore
    So lightly sit, thou hast a store
    Of memories such as they alone
    May have whose hearts all truth have known.
    Now may this year bring thee no less
    Than all the past of happiness!"

        (On his eightieth birthday.)

    Seek not to learn - Leuconoë, - a mortal may not know -
    What term of life on you or me our deities bestow.
    The Babylonian soothsayer consult not; better bear
    Whatever comes, whether to you more winters Jove shall spare,
    Or whether this may be the last, grinding the Tuscan sea
    On yonder rocks. Even as we talk, time envious shall flee.
    Filter your wine, be wise, and clip your hopes to life's brief span.
    Then seize today; to-morrow trust as little as you can.

    Mæcenas, scion of Tyrrhenian rulers,
        A jar, as yet unpierced, of mellow wine
    Long waits thee here, with balm for thee made ready
        And blooming roses in thy locks to twine.

    No more delay, nor always look with favor
        The sloping fields of Æsula upon;
    Why gaze so long on ever marshy Tibur
        Near by the mount of murderer Telegon?

    Give up thy luxury - it palls upon thee -
        Thy tower that reaches yonder lofty cloud;
    Cease to admire the smoke, the wealth, the uproar,
        And all that well hath made our Rome so proud.

    Sometimes a change is grateful to the rich man,
        A simple meal beneath a humble roof
    Has often smoothed from care the furrowed forehead,
        Though unadorned t...