A Little Window

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Title: A Little Window
Author: Jean M. Snyder
Release Date: September 16, 2007 [EBook #22637]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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A LITTLE WINDOW
JEAN M. SNYDER
_A LITTLE WINDOW_
VERSES BY
JEAN M. SNYDER
"_In good sooth, my masters this is no door, yet it is a little window
that looketh upon a great world._"

FOSTER & STEWART
PUBLISHING CORPORATION

BUFFALO, NEW YORK
All but two of the verses in this volume originally appeared in The
Christian Science Monitor, and are reprinted by permission.
The two exceptions are "Joy" (page 46) and "Triumph" (page 49),
which are also copyrighted and reprinted by permission.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Stars 7
The Brook 8
In Eden Valley 9
Benediction 10
A Moment 11
The Month of Moonlight 12
Wings 13
Heart's Ease 14
The Sign Reads--"To Troutbeck" 15
I, Too 16
In Early Evening 17
Fearless Winging 18
Whimsey 19
Remembering 20

Aloofness 21
Listening 22
September's End 23
Content 24
Rhythm 25
Contrast 26
Surety 27
Guests 28
Storm 30
A Reminder 31
Buffalo Harbor 32
From a Train Window 34
Scotland 35
Friends 36
A Poem of Color 37
Dream 38
Escape 39
Question 40
When You Were a Little Girl 42
Flight 44

Petit Trianon 45
Joy 46
Twilight Song Service 48
Triumph 49
_A Little Window_
_Stars_
(_At Locheven_)
Have you walked in the woods
When twilight wraps a veil of mist

Around the gray-green trees
In early spring?
It is then the
snow-white trillium
Gleam like stars from the carpet
Of last year's
leaves:
And tall white violets glow
Like clouds of nebulæ along the
path.
And flecked, like points of light
In the quiet pools of water

Among the gray-green boles,
Are the stars of heaven.
_The Brook_
(_Westfield, N. Y._)
Curling and humming its cadences,
It slips past me under the rim of
the gorge,
As I peer down through the scarlet sumacs.
Sparkling in
the sunlight,
Shimmering in the moonlight,
On and on it goes,
A
silvery sheet of song.
_In Eden Valley_
I saw
A spray of orange berries etched against the silver of a stone wall:
A scarlet vine encircling a golden sapling;

On the ground, a carmine robe that had slipped from the shoulders of
a maple.
A sweep of meadow,
A curve of bronzy hill,
A glow of ruby and
amethyst
And the evergreens making deep quiet spots in it.
_Benediction_
Silent, I stood in the forest--
Lured by the liquid song
Of a thrush.

Clear, it was, then fading
And softly echoed,
As he slipped into
the embrace
Of the night.
So pure, so holy, was his song
That my
heart was calmed
And I was filled
With serenity.
_A Moment_
The beaten silver waters cut
By the prow of our ship,
Send off stars
of phosphorous
To vie with the stars overhead.
Nothing but sky and
the starlight,
And a stretch of limitless sea,
Nothing but peace and
dominion,--
Silence, immensity.
_The Month of Moonlight_
Moonlight is not cold!
It is tender and benignant,
Softening all it
touches,
Hiding the roughness,
Covering the coarseness,
With a
glow of silver splendor
And a lucent flood
Of beauty.
_Wings_
There come to the flowers
In my garden
Butterflies, golden-spotted
tawny,
Blue-spangled and sulphur;
Glistening dragon-flies,
zooming bumble bees,
Droning honey-bees.
Softly whirring comes
The vivid humming-bird,
Sipping, sipping
all day long.
At nightfall I hear the flutter of the
Luna's wings, as

She caresses the velvet cheek
Of the lily.

_Heart's Ease_
(_Locheven_)
I love to tread a winding path
Through the woods,
And, world
weary, pause upon it.
The trees bend and enclose me
In brooding
calm;
I feel the presence of Deity.
I hear the cadence of the stillness--
A stillness so alive.
The whisper
of the leaves,
The song of the brook over golden stone
The whir of
a bird's wings;
And I know the presence of Deity.
_The Sign Reads--"To Troutbeck"_
(_English Lakes_)
An upcurving lane, hedged high,
An ancient stile,
A rambling path,

A brook,
And musk,--
Golden bells of fragrance,
Fusing all the
odors
Of English earth.
_I, Too_
Robin, robin,
Shouting your song,
Your throat swelling
With joy!

Yes, I hear, I know
What you say.
For I, too,
Would sing
My
praise and
Gratitude
To God!
_In Early Evening_
When I drive through
The villages and the countryside
In early
evening,
And see people sitting in gardens
Or at their doors
In
peace and contentment,
I long to stop and speak to them.
They
might tell me of a loved one
Doing some great work
In a big city,

Or of a deep sorrow,
And I might say a word
To help lighten it.

They might show me treasured china

Or a bit of lace, handmade;

Once