Some Broken Twigs | Page 2

not, a thing is sad?
I hear the sparrow twittering?Her sweet old melody.?Darling the spring is budding?In all her ecstasy.?Spring and the sun are smiling?To bring the leaves and cress.?Love in the heart is waking?To give us happiness.
I hear the lark awarbling?Her sweet old melody.?And too my heart is singing?In happy ecstasy.
BEAUTIFUL ROSE
Beautiful rose?Your crimson velvet tells me?The loveliest message.
SUN ON THE RIVER
O river, flowing on,?In flashing sunlight roll,?And join the ocean lawn?Up to the island shoal.
O great and mighty stream,?With flaming breast and bow,?Your ferries glide and gleam?Through sparkling glare and glow.
O sun, on rolling wave?Shine far out to the sea,?And rounded billows pave,?Like quickened silver flee.
O sheets of dazzling light,?Move on close to the edge,?Where ships are anchored right,?And gold flames on the ledge.
O rivers, drifting fire?With steamers flaming wide,?Play on your silent lyre?Until the shadows hide.
OUT ON THE BAY
Out on the bay?Was spread a silver while sheet,?Glazed and painted by the sun,?Today.
Down in my heart?Was pain and sorrow's dark sleet?Eased and melted by the sun,?In part.
RESTING
There is no soothing so complete,?As sitting in the sun,?Or chasing butterflies through wheat,?Although no cloth is spun.
A SHOWER'S MELODY
A babbling brooklet wends its happy way?Adown a rocky path across the plain.?And goes a-galloping along in rain.?In drought he stops and waits a lucky day,?When clouds roll up and men and women pray,?And withered is the corn and grasses and grain.?The dust clings thick on every sill and pane.?A shower soon refreshes loam and clay.?The little stream resumes its cheerful hymn.?It warbles on content to sing and flow,?The music lilts and swells in happy glee;?And too, the birds and bees join in with vim,?Harmonious, alive, in twilight glow?A mighty choir of gorgeous melody!
IF YOU HEAR
If you hear the scoff of friends,?Or see their anger grow,?Just please remember this,?Perhaps they do not know.
DANCING ON A LEVEL ROAD
It is a happy thing to dance?A long a level road?So brave a deed to take a chance?Of slipping off the load.
IT WAS HOME
A little old house in a sheltered nook,?Some cottonwood trees near a babbling brook,?A sturdy gnarled oak by a grassy lane?That leads to green pastures past flowing grain.?A trellised rose bush hides a crumbling wall,?Where lovers have stood near the waterfall;?Beyond the sun sets in a golden glow?And shadows stretch far to the mead below.?A shining wire fence follows up the hill?And curves about to the graded fill.?Then back to the house in a cozy spot?We loiter there on the hallowed lot,?Where Mother's sweet face waits, in gentle calm,?And Father sits near and roads an old psalm.
QUESTIONS
If I could brush the cobwebs from my eyes,
What could I see??If I could roll the boulder from my path,
What would I be?
DISTRUST
He walks the safest way;?There must be no thistles on his path.?He knows all men are clay.?If truth wears feathers in her cap,?They must be plucked away,?That all may proven be.
COUNTING
The morning sun casts purple in the fields,?A mocking bird sings gaily in the oaks,?White fluffy clouds rest in the murky sky.?It is yet cool, the maples scarcely stir,?But noon will burn the grasses by the way?And give the girl there at the soda fount?A welcome trade. The heat will parch the earth,?So that flowers will wilt and droop their charm.?But night will come and bring refreshing breeze?And fold a soothing mantle over all?Like mother spreading blankets over Tom.?Now day by day the summer slips on by,?Its stifling heat and gloomy skies will pass.?And winter cold will come with hoary frost;?Yet by our hearths we rest in quiet peace,?Secure our roofs and snug our sheltered beds.?Remember Spring, how roses bloom and flamed!?And how the sunny days kept pace with time.?In winter some hours will be gilded gold.?It's true our blessings add up more than half.
ON THE FERRY
A multitude of lights twinkled in glee;?Receding ones reached out, their friendship gleamed?With hands across to shield from dark, it seemed;?And coming dock was lit from home to sea.?There was no gloam and dusk for you and me.?The stars above, grand sentinels all reamed,?Conducting us home like naught ever dreamed;?The scalloped bridge festooned like a Christmas tree,?And gate post lamps led strangers through the park.?Our fathers planned that all should walk in light,?That every man could find his way like day,?Until the amber dawning wake the lark.?Thus peacefully we glided through the night,?Serenely going home the ferry way.
PERHAPS
I see a gorgeous city, pompous, grand,?And hear it weeping with pain long borne.?It is built on rock and nobly planned,?The glory shine like bloom with leaf and thorn.
I feel its memories in brick and stone,?And lift my eyes to see the sky and stars.?Unpainted rock in weathered greys and blown?With winds and well I understand the bars.
From walk to turret there are many eyes,?Perhaps some measuring these thoughts of mine,?What color hair? How long the coat and thighs??It may be true we drink