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DORTHEA LAWRENCE MANN
DRAGON
SOME saw a dragon eating up the light；
Oho！ Oho！ Oho； ho； ho！
Some heard a lost bird riding out the night；
Oho！ Oho！ Oho； ho； ho！
But I saw：
A low dark hill with its twisted back
Two wings of flame from the green cloud rack；
A sprawling flank overlaid with leaf
Glitter and gleam and shine like steel；
Crackle and lash like a serpent's tail！
And I heard：
The wind draw out of the west and wail；
Dance and stagger and jig and reel！
With the long low sound of a life in grief！
I saw a life in grief
Oho！ 0ho！ Oho； ho； ho
Dance and stagger and jig and reel！
Oho！ Oho！ Oho； ho； ho！
JEANNETTE MARKS
〃THE BOOKMAN。〃
GREEN GOLDEN DOOR
GREEN golden door； swing in； swing in！
Fanning the life a man must live；
Echoes and airs and minstrelsies；
Love and hope that he called his；
Fear and hurt and a man's own sin
Casting them forth and sucking them in；
Green golden door； swing out； swing out！
Green golden door； swing in； swing in！
Show me the youth that will not die；
Tell me the dream that has not waked；
Seek me the heart that never ached；
Green golden door； swing out； swing out！
Green golden door； swing in； swing out！
Long is the wailing of man's breath；
Short is the wail of death。
JEANNETTE MARKS
SLEEPY HOLLOW； CONCORD
FOUR graves there are upon the wooded crest；
Each one a shrine to pilgrims ever dear。
Uncovered； mute； are those who tarry here。
Romance's dreaming master lies at rest
Beneath the cedars。 Near is one whose breast
Held Mother Nature's lore。 Beyond； the seer
And sage。 There； one who saw her duty clear；
Her name by little men and women blessed。
Four friends who walked in Concord's pleasant ways
Long years ago。 They dwelt and worked apart；
But now the world has crowned them with its bays；
And holds them close forever to its heart。
O； sacred hill！ There Genius； guarding stays；
And from its slopes shall never Love depart！
JOHN CLAIR MINOT
THE SWORD OF ARTHUR
A CASTLE stands in Yorkshire
（Oh； the hill is fair and green！）
And far beneath it lies a cave
No living man has seen。
It is the cave enchanted
（Oh； seek it ere ye die！）
And there King Arthur and his knights
In dreamless slumber lie。
One time a peasant found it
（Oh； the years have hurried well！）
It was the day of fate for him；
And this is what befell：
Upon a couch of crystal
（Oh； heart be pure and strong！）
He saw the King； and； close beside；
The armored knights athrong。
And all of them were sleeping
（Praise God； who sendeth rest！）
The sleep that comes when strife is done
And ended every quest。
Beside the good King Arthur
（How high is your desire？）
His sword within its scabbard lay；
The sword with blade of fire。
Now had the peasant known it
（Oh； if we all could know！）
He should have drawn that wondrous blade
Before he turned to go。
If but his hand had touched it
（The sword still lieth there！）
He would have felt in every vein
A lofty purpose thrill。
If but his hand had drawn it
（The sword still lieth there！）
A kingly way he would have walked；
Wherever he might fare。
But no； he fled affrighted
（Oh； pitiful the cost！）
And then he knew； but lo！ the way
Into the cave was lost。
He searched forever after
（All this was long ago！）
But nevermore that crystal cave
His eager eyes could know。
Pray God ye have the vision
（Oh； search in every land！）
To seize the sword that Arthur bore
When it lies at your hand。
JOHN CLAIR MINOT
THE DIVINE FOREST
IF there be leaves on the forest floor；
Dead leaves there are and nothing more；
If trunks of trees seem sentinels；
For what their vigil no man tells。
And if you clasp these guardian trees
Nothing there is to hurt or please；
Only the dead roof of the forest drops
Gently down and never stops
And roofs you in and roofs you under；
Mute and away from life's dim thunder；
And if there come eternal spring
It is but more disheartening；
For Autumn takes the Spring and Summer…
Autumn that is the latest comer…
With the Springtime's misty wonder
And the Summer's yield of gold；
Weighs you down and weighs you under
To where the blackened leaves are mold。 。 。
The lone gift of the forest is ever new：
Eternity where dwell not you。
The forest； accepting； heeds you not；
Accepting all…you are forgot。
If there be leaves on the forest floor；
Dead leaves there are and nothing more。
Once the forest spoke but now is silent；
Save in the skyward branches whence no sound
Seems to touch ear of any man below
Or else no longer the man knows how to hear。
Such men build roofs to keep the forest out；
Yet all their roofs are built of the forest's self；
Only they make the dead tree a shield against the
living。
Such lapsing of the forest then they use
And turn it into countless lowly dwellings；
Sometimes they even cut the living down
To leaven the dead roofs they would erect。
Though some of these low roofs are lovely there
Beneath the guardianship of forest trees；
And some yearn upward as with thought of wings；
Yet the eyes of the dwellers therein are dark
To the upper forest and they
Fearful of the windy freedom of its top。
They have forgotten
That the greatest roof is but a banner
And that it was a tree that made a Cross。
CHARLES R。 MURPHY
MAGIC
TO W。S。B。
I RAN into the sunset light
As hard as I could run：
The treetops bowed in sheer delight
As if they loved the sun：
And all the songs of little birds
Who laughed and cried in silver words
Were joined as they were one。
And down the streaming golden sky
A lark came circling with a cry
Of wonder…weaving joy：
And all the arch of heaven rang
Where meadowlands of dreaming hang
As when I was a boy。
And through the ringing solitude
In pulsing lovely amplitude
A mist hung in a shroud；
As though the light of loneliness
Turned pure delight to holiness；
And bathed it in a cloud。
I stripped my laughing body bare
And plunged into that holy air
That washed me like a sea；
And raced against its silver tide
That stroked my eager glancing side
And made my spirit free。
Across the limits of the land
The wind and I swept hand and hand
Beyond the golden glow。
We danced across the ocean plain
Like thrushes singing in the rain
A song of long ago。
And on into the silver night
We strove to win the race with light
And bring the vision home；
And bring the wonder home again
Unto the sleeping eyes of men
Across the singing foam。
And down the river of the world
Our glowing； limbs in glory swirled
As spring within a flower；
And stars in music of delight
Streamed gayly down our shoulders white
Like petals in a shower。
And tears of awful wonder ran
Adown my cheeks to hear the clan
Of beauty chaunting white
The prayer too deep for living word；
Or sight of man or winging bird；
Or music over forest heard
At falling of the night。
And dropping slowly as the dew
On grasses that the winds renew
In urge of flooding fire；
And softly as the hushing boughs
The gentle airs of dawn arouse
To cradle morning's quire。
The murmur of the singing leaves
Around the secret Flame；
Like mating swallows 'neath the eaves
In rustling silence came；
And flowing through the silent air
Creation fluttered in a prayer
Descending on a spiral stair；
And calling me by name。
It nestled in my dreaming eyes
Like heaven in a lake；
And softened hope into surprise
For very beauty's sake；
And silence blossomed into morn；
Whose fragrant rosy…breasted dawn
Could scarcely bear to break。
I sang into the morning light
As loud as I could sing；
The treetops bowed in sheer delight
Before the slanting wing。
And all the songs of little birds
Who laughed and cried in silver words
Adored the Risen Spring。
EDWARD J。 O'BRIEN
MICHAEL PAT
TO ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH
OLD Michael Pat he said to me
He saw an angel in a tree。
He knew I'd never； never doubt him；
For what would heaven be without them。
The angel laughed for very glee
And sang out loud： 〃Heigh！ come with me！〃
Old Michael felt a creeping kind
Of wonder in his humble mind；
And； hardly knowing what to say；
Ran where the angel showed the way。
The lambs were running on the hills；
Glad laughter echoed from the rills；
And many hidden little birds
Talked pleasant things in singing words。
He followed up a mountain then
And saw a crowd of singing men
Approaching to a Crown of Light
Wherein they took a fresh delight。
He danced and sang and whooped and crew
To see the Lord of all he knew
Surrounded by the living songs
Of stars and men in countless throngs；
And then he died to life again