Cross Roads by Margaret E. Sangster (read the beginning after the end novel .txt) 📕

CONTENTS


PREFACE
WOOD MAGIC
WATERIN' THE HORSES
AT DAWN
THE HAUNTED HOUSE
TO A PAIR OF GLOVES
PEAKS
LI'L FELLER
TO AN OLD SCHOOLHOUSE
THE OLD SAILOR
THE RIVER AND THE TREE
AUTUMN SONG
SCARLET FLOWERS
ON FIFTH AVENUE
FROM A CITY WINDOW
THE LADY ACROSS THE COURT
TO A PORCELAIN PUPPY DOG
COLORS
POSSESSION (A TENEMENT MOTHER SPEAKS)
LIGHTS OF THE CITY
STEEL
MUSIC OF THE SLUMS
"BE OF GOOD CHEER!"
FROM MY ROOM
THE BALCONY SCENE
A BOWERY PAWN-SHOP
SPRING IN THE CITY
LI'L EMPTY CLOSET
TWO LULLABYS
I DREAMED YOUR FACE
ANSWER
A BABY'S HANDS
ALL ALONG THE BROAD HIGHWAY
MY MOTHER
HEREDITY
APRIL
THE DESERT PATH (SEVEN SONNETS)
SUMMER SONG
COMPREHENSION (A MOTHER'S SONG)
SINGING ON THE MARCH
EASTER
RESURRECTION
THE QUEEN
FRAGMENTS
IT'S LOTS OF FUN
VALENTINE
THE SACRIFICE
TO A CERTAIN ROOM
OTHER DAYS
AT TWILIGHT
THERE ARE SUCH WEARY LITTLE LINES
THREE SONGS OF AWAKENING
IN A CANOE
CAPTIVE-HEART
EVENING SONG
AFTER A DAY OF WAITING
INTANGIBLE
AT FIRST SIGHT
FIVE SONNETS
FORGIVEN
THE WRITING
AT PARTING
WHEN I AM OLD
THE REFUGE
TO DREAM ALONE
NOW I MAY SING OF SADNESS
WHEN WAR CAME
WHEN YOU WENT BY
IN MEMORIAM
A PEASANT GIRL SINGS
TOGETHER
JIM-DOG
SIX SONNETS
AFTER PEACE
FROM THE DECK OF A TRANSPORT
TIM - MY BUNKIE
A PRAYER FOR OUR BOYS RETURNING
PARIS
SONG FROM FRANCE
FROM PARIS TO CHATEAU-THIERRY
A RUINED CHURCH
CHILD FACES
AFTER HEARING MUSIC COMING FROM A DEVASTATED FARMHOUSE
RETURN
THE PHOENIX
A PRAYER ON EASTER FOR OUR BOYS KILLED IN ACTION
INDEPENDENCE DAY, 1919
SHADOWS
L'ENVOI


PREFACE

The candlelight sweeps softly through the room,
Filling dim surfaces with golden laughter,
Touching with mystery each high hung rafter,
Cutting a path of promise through the gloom.

Slim little elves dance gently on each taper,
Wistful, small ghosts steal out of shrouded
corners -
And, like a line of vague enchanted mourners,
Great shadows sway like wind-blown sheets of paper.

Gently as fingers drawn across your hair,
I see the yellow flicker of it creep -
And in a silence that is kin to sleep,
I feel a world away from pain and care.

Roads stretch like arms across the world outside,
Roads reach to strife, to happiness, to fame -
Here, in the candlelight, I speak your name,
Here we are at life's cross way, side by side!


OH, THERE ARE BROOKS THERE, AND FIELDS THERE AND NOOKS
THERE -
NOOKS WHERE A SEEKER MAY FIND FOREST FLOWERS;
BLUE IS THE SKY THERE, AND SOFT WINDS CREEP BY THERE,
SINGING A SONG THROUGH THE LONG SUMMER HOURS.


WOOD MAGIC

The woods lay dreaming in a topaz dream,
And we, who silently roamed hand in hand,
Were pilgrims in a strange, enchanted land,
Where life was love, and love was all a-gleam.

And old remembered songs came back to greet
Our ears, from other worlds of long ago,
The worlds that we of earth may seldom know -
And to those songs we timed our vagrant feet.

We did not speak, we did not need to say
The thought that lay so buried in our hearts -
The thoughts as sweet as springtime rain, that
starts
The buds to blossoming in wistful May.

We did not need to speak, we could not speak,
The wonder words that we in silence knew -
We walked, as very little children do,
Who feel, but cannot tell, the thing they seek.

Beyond a screen of bushes, bending low,
We knew that fair Titania lay at rest,
Her pillowed head upon her lover's breast,
Her kisses swift as birds that come and go!

And underneath a wall of mottled stone,
We knew the sleeping beauty lay in state,
Entangled in a mist of tears, to wait
The prince whose kiss would raise her to a throne.

Perhaps a witch with single flaming eye,
Was watching from beneath the hemlock tree;
And fairies that our gaze might never see,
Laughed at us as we, hand in hand, crept by.

Laughed at us? No, I somehow think they knew
That you and I were kin to them that day!
I think they knew that we were years away
From everything but make-believe, come true.

I think they knew that, singing through the air,
There thrilled a vague, insistent, harp-like call -
And that, where woodbine blazed against the wall,
You held me close and kissed my wind-tossed hair!


WATERIN' TH' HORSES

I took th' horses to th' brook - to water 'em you know,
Th' air was cold with just a touch o' frost;
And as we went a-joggin' down I couldn't help but
think,
O' city folk an' all the things they lost.

O' cause they have their lighted streets - their Great
White Way an' such,
O' course they have their buildings large an' tall;
But, my! they never know th' joy o' ridin' ter th'
brook,
An' somehow I don't envy 'em at all!

Perhaps I'd like it - for awhile - to hear th' songs an'
laughter,
But somehow, I don't know exactly why;
I'd feel th' country callin' me; I'd long again fer
silence,
An' fer God's mountains, blue against the sky.

I took th' horses to th' brook - to water 'em you know,
Th' day was pretty as a day can be;
An' as we went a-joggin' down I couldn't help but
think,
O' city folk an' all they never see!


AT DAWN

I. THE CAVEMAN

I live! And the scarlet sunrise is climbing the
mountain steep,
I live . . . And below, in the caverns, the rest
of my clansmen sleep;
But I - I am here, and chanting, I could slay a
beast with my hand,
And I thrill as the mist of the morning creeps up
from the rock-strewn land!

I live, I have strength for fighting - and courage to
rend and slay,
I live! And my eyes are lifting to gaze at the new-
born day;
And I pause, on the way to my hewn-out cave,
though I know that she waits me there,
My mate, with her eyes on the scarlet dawn, and the
wind in her flame-like hair.

I live - and the joy of living leaps up in my searching
eyes,
I live, and my soul starts forward, to challenge the
waking skies!
Far down are the torrents roaring, far up are the
clouds, unfurled;
And I stand on the cliff, exultant, akin to the waking
world.

The mists are gone, and an eagle sweeps down from
the mountain high,
And I wish that my arms were feathered and strong,
that I, too, might fly;
I live! I am one with the morning! Ah, I am a
MAN, and free!
And I shout aloud, and the scarlet dawn shouts back,
on the gale, to me!


II. THE PIONEER

I creep along, but silently,
For, oh, the dawn is coming;
I creep along, for I have heard
A flint-tipped arrow, humming;
And I have heard a snapping twig,
Above the wind's low laughter;
And I have known - and thrilled to know,
That swift THEY followed after!

The forest turns from black to grey,
The leaves are silver-shining;
But I have heard a far-off call -
The war-whoop's sullen whining.
And I have been a naked form,
Among the tree trunks prowling;
And I have glimpsed a savage face,
That faded from me, scowling.

A rosy color sweeps the sky,
A vagrant lark is singing,
But, as I steal along the trail,
I know that day is bringing
A host of red-skins in its train,
Their tommy-hawks are gleaming -
I SEE THEM NOW; or can it be
The first pale sunlight beaming?

I creep along, but stealthily,
For, oh, the dawn is coming!
I creep along - but I have heard
A flint-tipped arrow, humming. . . .
And yet, my heart is light, inside,
My soul, itself, is flying
To greet the dawn! I AM ALIVE -
AND WHAT IS DEATH - BUT DYING?


III. THE FARMER

The dawn is here! I climb the hill;
The earth is young and strangely still;
A tender green is showing where
But yesterday my fields were bare. . . .
I climb and, as I climb, I sing;
The dawn is here, and with it - spring!

My oxen stamp the ground, and they
Seem glad, with me, that soon the day
Will bring new work for us to do!
The light above is clear and blue;
And one great cloud that swirls on high,
Seems sent from earth to kiss the sky.

The birds are coming back again,
They know that soon the golden grain
Will wave above this fragrant loam;
The birds, with singing, hasten home;
And I, who watch them, feel their song
Deep in my soul, and nothing wrong,
Or mean or small, can touch my heart. . . .
Down in the vale the smoke-wreaths start,
To softly curl above the trees;
The fingers of a vagrant breeze
Steal tenderly across my hair,
And toil is fled, and want, and care!

The dawn is here!
I climb the hill;
My very oxen seem to thrill -
To feel the mystery of day.
The sun creeps out, and far away
From man-made law I worship God,
Who made the light, the cloud, the sod;
I worship smilingly, and sing!
* * *
The dawn is here,