Clear Crystals | Page 2

tears that rush like rivers down the cheek
Like gilding gold of
morning's amber light.
O happy hearts, by hearths when wills are
meek!
We welcome sun that chased away the night.
The weeping
eyes will not acknowledge hate.
When lovers meet forgiven after pain,

Tears cleanse the heart and mind of fire and mote,
And freshen
countenance and bleach the stain.
O rain of peace, that washes doubt
away,
And casts a burden from the heart and home.
Sad hearts in
joy united on this day;
Now buds will bloom again in garden loam.

Glad tears that come unbidden thus and free
Have banished care and
brought you back to me.
THE PROMISE OF SPRING
Today resplendent in red, grays and gold,
No wind disturbs the calm

of Winter's rest,
But quiet and serene on earth's broad breast
Is
shrub and bush and seed in loamy hold;
The buds on elm are waiting
to unfold,
Our biddie hen wears crimson on her crest.
This
gorgeous day, when children laugh and jest,
And run and dance and
not a thought withhold.
For Winter's frost was gone at early noon.
We know that Spring will
come on southern breeze;
The grass will green and roses bloom again.

We love the flowers, summer warmth and boon,
O joy of earth, in
green and swaying trees,
In buds and bees on this broad prairie plain.
THE DAYS LIVE AGAIN
O hallowed charm of long departed days;
The good and bad blend in
a sparkling stream.
If one recalls youth's glad and care free ways;

The distant roar of music is supreme,
When viewing life's almost
forgotten trail.
There is a stream that twines its way about
Through
shady spots, by broken, rotted rail.
The falling water glitters, and the
trout,
Again, like precious memories, flash and dart.
Through bleak
and cold, a precipice once crossed
Still fills with pride and pain the
aging heart;
For time has now the thorns and rocks embossed,
And
thus the long dead past is always bright,
For those whose sun is
sinking into night.
ROLLING TRUCKS
Rolling over desert sands
Steady there are dough-boy's hands.

Gliding past the silver sage
Caring naught for fame or wage;

Rolling trucks for Uncle Sam,
In his kit are bread and ham.

Slipping over moon-lit dunes
Humming low the old men's tunes.

Every moment plays the game,
Like an iron in a flame.
Rolling
over desert sands,
Steady there are dough-boy's hands.
AT DUSK

A low blue cloud lies stretched beyond the trees,
All quiet so. The
chant of birds uplifts,
And through the evening dusk a tremor sifts,

The chill of night creeps close with turning keys,
And darkness
soothes each child. The daylight flees,
Though many voices lend their
artful gifts,
And mingle with the city's murmured rifts.
While
twilight covers all with mysteries,
There is the roll of train or army
truck;
A mother calls her three year old within.
The most of us
preparing for the night;
Some go their way to labor for their luck,

And others toil that we may rest or spin.
God guards the whole until
the morning light.
THE MORNING
The morning freshened with the dew of night,
Was glad with crowing
cock and singing bird;
And through the mists came hope and kindly
word.
The east aglow with early amber light.
As perking coffee
roused the hungry sprite;
Beside the hearth a friendly pussy purred,

And in a crib a blue-eyed baby stirred,
Awakened from sweet
slumber of the night.
O dawning! Here with all her usual charm.

Another day to toil for child and friend,
One hour to praise our God,
while hatreds ebbed;
To hope and live and succor from all harm

Those weaker ones who know not how to fend,
And cast a beam that
lights their way ahead.
O RIVER BANK
I love to loiter by the old oak tree,
Where waters ripple over clean
white stones,
And cresses, mint with feathered fern grown high.
In
such a place the peaceful thoughts will come;
There is no hurry there
where nature plays.
Soft gentle breezes wave the grass and sedge;

White fluffy clouds pass overhead and roll.
Now dreaming, I hear the
cricket's gay song.
O river bank you charm me always so.
THERE WILL COME A DAY

There will come a day, sometime,
When a bright light will shine
through
The clouds of darkness, sometime.
And the grass will grow
anew;
Glad bells will ring at the dawn;
And at noon great horns will
blow;
At evening fear will be gone;
The home lights through dusk
will glow.
It will be a joyous day!
And the earth will shout with
laughter,
When world peace is made, some day.
We can hear the
birds thereafter.
LATE AUTUMN
The fragrant autumn winds float painted leaves
Across the plains at
sunset's evening hour,
A scarlet rose, a zinnia in the flower
Stand
brilliant there beneath the cottage eaves.
The locust hums his song,
the spider weaves
His silken web in every shady bower,
Where
thunder clouds pile high in tumbled tower;
The farmer's loft is
bursting with great sheaves;
And cornstalks bend with heavy golden
loads,
For rains have blessed the land the summer long.
Now
children trip on winding trails from school;
They swing in rhythmic
time along the roads;
A hungry, hearty crowd, suntanned and strong.

This glorious fall day in evening cool.
ALL HAIL RED CROSS