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VIOLET'S BLUE[17]
DANIEL HENRY JR.
_Theme_.
"Violet's blue--Diddle, diddle!
Lavender's green.
When I am King--Diddle, diddle!
You shall be Queen."
"Mother Goose Melodies."
You shall have crown--Diddle, diddle!
Jewels and gold, Damasks and lace--Diddle, diddle!
Centuries old.
Pages behind--Diddle, diddle!
Heralds before, And all the state--Diddle, diddle!
Queens had of yore.
But when you're queen--Diddle, diddle!
And I am king, Will your eyes s.h.i.+ne--Diddle, diddle!
Will my lips sing,
As they do now--Diddle, diddle!
When we are still, Poor country-folk--Diddle, diddle!
Plain Jack and Jill?
Can our hearts beat--Diddle, diddle!
Our love unfold, Prisoned in pomp--Diddle, diddle!
Girdled with gold?
Love thrives alone--Diddle, diddle!
In open air; Where pageants are--Diddle, diddle!
Love is not there.
When skies are blue--Diddle, diddle!
And fields are green, I will be king--Diddle, diddle!
You shall be queen.
Queen of Day-dreams--Diddle, diddle!
King of No-lands, With full-filled hearts--Diddle, diddle!
And empty hands.
Let others king--Diddle, diddle!
And queen, who will: We're better so--Diddle, diddle!
Plain Jack and Jill.
FOOTNOTE:
[17] From "Under a Fool's Cap," published by Kegan Paul, French & Co., London.
TO A WATERFOWL[18]
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT
Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way?
Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Seek'st thou the plashy brink Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, Or where the rocking billows rise and sink On the chafed ocean-side?
There is a power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast-- The desert and illimitable air-- Lone wandering, but not lost.
All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
And soon that toil shall end; Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend, Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest.
Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven Hath swallowed up thy form; yet on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart:
He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright.
FOOTNOTE:
[18] By permission of D. Appleton & Co., publishers.
THE WEDDING-GOWN
ETTA W. PIERCE
"Bring it from the oaken press; full fifty years ago I sewed those seams, my heart all full of youth and hope and Joe-- Joe, whose wife I was to be--my lover, strong and brown, Captain of the stanchest craft that sailed from Gloucester town.
It seems a worthless thing to hold so carefully in store, This poor, old, faded bridal dress, which no bride ever wore; Cut in the curious style of half a century ago, With scanty skirt and 'broidered bands--my own hands shaped it so.
Niece Hester, spread it on my bed--my eyes grow blind with tears; I touch its limp and yellow folds, and lo! the long dead years Come trooping back like churchyard ghosts. This was my wedding-gown-- 'Twas made the year the equinox brought woe to Gloucester town.
"Ah, I remember well the night I walked the beach with him-- The moon was rising just above the ocean's purple rim, And all the savage Cape Ann rocks shone in her mellow light; The time was spring, and heaven itself seemed close to us that night.
We heard the cool waves beat the sh.o.r.e, the seabird's startled cry; Like spirits in the dark, we saw the coasters flitting by.
High in their towers the beacons burned, like wintry embers red, From Ipswich, down the rough sea-line, to crag-girt Marblehead.
