Woodland Echoes

LAURA HOLLON HENDERSON

Laura Hollon Henderson, author of JOY COMES AGAIN TO THE VALLEY and WOODLAND ECHOES was born in Hazel Green. Ky. She received her Bachelor of Music degree at Asbury College, Wilmore, Ky. and later did special work in music and art at Southwestern College, Winfield, Kansas, and in music at Wichita University and Academy of Fine Arts, Wichita.

Wife of a Methodist pastor, she has directed choirs and taught music for many years. She and her husband, the late Rev. O. R. Henderson have two sons, Raymond and Paul. Many of the poems in WOODLAND ECHOES were written at their former summer home in Woodland Park, Colorado.

A PRAYER FOR THE DAY

LORD, these are the things I ask Thee for today: Work to do, yet find time to watch the way A butterfly wings itself through the air To light upon a flower as it in prayer.

I want to lean upon my garden gate And hear an oriole call to its mate; I want to touch the lilacs as I pass And see cloud shadows moving on the grass.

A story clean I want to read and find Something to enrich my sluggish mind. A child I want to hold and see it smile True friends to talk with me awhile.

Wisdom I want that I will surely need To help and guide me in my every deed. And strength to help me in love's bright way Through trials I know will cross my path today.

Faith I must have to know Thou art near- Faith that will banish all doubt and fear. Then when shades of night come slowly down I'll praise Thee for the lovely things I've found.

ROCKY MOUNTAIN TIMBER LINE TREES At the cabin

Twisted, stunted, rheumatic trees Growing High at timber line Where storms beat hard And wild winds blow: In quiet dignity you stand So unafraid And undismayed Supported by some Master Hand.

Storms blow around us humans too, We stand lonely as do you, Wounded and bruised, But so afraid: Such lessons of strength with us you share Dear storm tossed trees At timber line Fighting daily for your lives up there.

TIMBER LINE

There is loneliness at timber line. Here the sweet companionship of birds, trees and game stops. No bird song, insect hum or trees vibrating in the wind is there to greet you. All shrubbery is greatly changed and finally ceases to be. There is nothing to break the cold monotony of rocks, nothing to extend a welcome.

It is here at timber line that the quaint timber line trees grow, twisted and gnarled, and in the most peculiar shapes. They grow very slowly up here where the storms are fierce and long, and the wind has its blustery home every day in the year.

As we look at these beautifully strange old trees with great awe and respect we have the feeling that they are definitely a barrier to something. At first we can't make out just what it is, then, suddenly, we realize it is a place where man leaves off his work and the Great Creator takes over alone.

LITTLE THINGS

Little things to me Mean so very much- Words softly spoken, A warm, gentle touch

Candles quietly burning- Goblets crystal clear, Amber bowl of roses Are so sweet and dear

Vases of blue green glass Bought from Old Mexico Bring memories of a trip In the long ago.

Long evenings spent together, A yellow daisy in my hair . . . . All simple little things That make my life more fair.

Life's little things Are mountains in my mind, All working together Into a beautiful design.

COMPANIONSHIP

God of the great-out-of-doors, when I'm weak Let me walk alone in the fields with Thee Beneath a sunny roof at noon, at night When stars gleam bright for me to see Speak to me through the songs of little birds, Through waters rushing onward to the sea; No word of Thine will ever fruitless fall As I walk alone in the fields with Thee.

God of the great-out-of-doors, when I'm afraid Let me walk alone in the fields with Thee When life's storm are harsh and friendships fail Thou alone must my guide and teacher be. Let not my feet go in any crooked way Or bitter my tongue in any manner be And no forgiveness hide within my heart As I walk alone in the fields with Thee.

God of the great-out-of-doors, when I grow old Put Thine arms around me so I will know When my day is waning and night's coming on That I shall walk with Thee where Thou dost go. Then, in that land beyond the evening star, Where all its glorious beauty I shall see, I'll have no fear of clouds and life's dark storms As I walk alone in heaven's field with Thee.

A DAY OF SOLITUDE

Quietly, I walked deep into the woods where I heard the most wonderful sounds: Wind moving softly through the trees, Autumn leaves tumbling, hitting the ground

I sat on a log, its bark long gone, And took off my shoes and hose, I looked at the sky so friendly above And twiddled my toes.

Oh, how the birds sand on bubbling breath As I forgot the world with its fret and care And stooped to pick a flower While breathing deeply of pine scented air

At the root of a tree, dead many years, A campground for chipmunks was busy with play, A squirrel sat on a lofty limb And scolded go away! Go away!

A doe with her fawn came down to the stream And drank to their glad heart's content Then, lifting their heads and seeing me Off into the woods they went.

7 I forgot myself in these untroubled woods While dark clouds gathered and covered the day; I moved through the rain and never cared Whether it stayed or went away.

I stood on a bridge, long broken down, Over water rushing hurriedly to the sea On the bank, a fern waved its lacy frond As if trying to flirt with me.

I placed my lunch on the stump of a tree, And felt it was not a disgrace To eat the food overrun with ants In this quiet sequestered place.

As I walked this dappled depth of solitude, It seemed the heavens and earth stood still I heard no voice but the voice of One Who created it all by His almighty will. When day was done, I left these woods Where I'd been apart from the world and its pain, But I knew deep down in my heart I would go there again and again and again.

WHAT IF I'D NEVER BEEN BORN?

I would have missed The comradeship of many friends, Green woods and meadows in the spring, The running brooks and sleepy hills, Sweet peace and joyful rest they bring.

I would have missed Love that's free as the winds that blow O'er all the earth, and all the sea; And friendships that cannot be bought, And faith, and hope, and constancy.

I would have missed The dearest and the only man In all the round wide world for me; The joys and burdens shared alike Since one we came to be.

I would have missed Sweet baby arms around my neck, And darling cheeks for me to kiss; Of all the joys of earth and heaven I'm sure there's none more dear than this.

Of course, life hasn't always been easy, Along the way there's been many a thorn. But for every thorn there were dozens of roses, So, don't you see what I'd missed If I'd never been born?

TO A GARDEN ROSE

Oh, beautiful rose in my garden grown Such charm of color and grace Did the angels grow in you last night In heaven's most classical place? Your petals are pink as a baby's cheek, Your heart is sprayed with gold; Did the angels grow you in that City that never grows old?

No, the angels did not grow me, Nor did they give me my baby pink, I bloomed late last night in the darkness With no light but the stars to blink, From the dampne ss of rocky soil I grew And found color for my face, Oh, weary soul, faint not, you too May rise from earth's darkest place.

INSPIRATION

A lovely rose Grew graceful and tall And leaned against My garden wall, It stretched and stretched And grew and grew Till it was over the top And out of view.

I thought, sometime, I too, Spirit soaring high and wide Will cross to see What's on the Other Side.

11 I WORSHIPPED GOD IN THE WOODS TODAY

I worshipped God in the woods today Beneath a ceiling of limpid blue; My windows were dark leafy boughs Where the sun came shining through.

I saw colored draperies hang From a choir loft of red bud trees; The song of a bird came as a hymn On the soft breath of the woodland breeze.

Flowers lifted their offering to God In purity, white as glacial snow; A light gleamed down on the narrow trail And left it all aglow.

My altar was the stump of a tree Where I knelt on the moistened sod; The song that came from the little stream I knew was the voice of God.

The clouds in my valley lifted As I left my pew in the woods; My lips sang a song Then laughed at the world- My heart told them they could.

DESIRE

I would walk through an apple orchard And stop by every tree, Speaking to each little blossom . . . And sing aloud with glee

For all the spring's bright sunshine And all the day's of noon . Are living in each flower That will pass too soon.

I would walk through an apple orchard Taking all the beauty in But there is so much of it I wonder where to begin

WIND AGAINST MY WINDOW

Wind against my window I wonder what you know Is it perfumed lilacs, Wild flowers bending low?

Have you trod the ocean And scaled the mountain height? Have you stirred the deserts, Brought in the morning light?

Have you roamed with shadows Across a summer night To touch a baby's face Or make an old one bright?

Have you touched a girlie Upon a wooded way With her lover pleading To marry her some day?

Wind against my window! Oh sacred thought sublime, If I knew your secrets I'd learn of God and time.

TO A DEAR ONE

Today I ask a little thing, To me, it means so much, If there's a cloud I must go through I want to feel your touch.

When down I go to suffering's depth I know you'll understand, You'll come and sit alone with me And let me hold your hand.

And when the darkest hour draws nigh The parting time is near, I'll have no doubts, if you are there, I'll conquer every fear.

Then in that land where I shall go To dwell inside the gate, I'll feel your touch, your presence there, And for you watch and wait.

WHEN SUMMER GOES TO SLEEP

I shall miss my flowers so When summer goes to sleep, Flowers with laughing faces, Little ones that weep.

Vases will still contain Blossoms on stems so gay But they can't be the same As came my garden way.

How much I'll miss my flowers No words can ever tell; Flowers growing from moist beds Have loved me, oh, so well.

They have told me many things Revealed their secrets deep, And I shall miss this all so much When summer goes to sleep.

NEW PATHS

I like to travel winding paths I've never seen Broad paths that run and twist O'er hill and glen, And feel fresh, new born winds blow strong against my cheek, And smell sweet scents from flowers grown knee deep.

My heart with joy and pleasure then beats fast To see tall trees against blue sky loom vast And as I pause upon my pathway fair, I smile to see such beauties as are before me there.

Today I travel on a path that's wild and lone, A strange, rough, cruel, untraveled path hard as stone; For war's unmerciful hand has snatched away our boys, And as I fold away their clothes among their toys Of other days and years, I try to calm my thoughts And crush my fears. My pulses throb, fast comes my breath, Too well I know wars pitiless paths of chance and death.

Oh, Comrade of this path I travel on, Be kind to mine and every mother's son, And grant that ne'er again burst bomb and shell On men and world that Thou dos't love so well.

A WOODLAND TRAIL'S SURPRISE

I like a woodland trail's surprise Around a bend a sudden tree Moves in the breeze, its gentle leaves Waving at me so tenderly.

Around another bend, blue flowers And spread in beautiful array, Their folly faces toward the sun Everchanging with the day.

I like a woodland trail's surprise, Oh, what a joy they are to me! I love the unexpected flower, The unexpected tree.

OCTOBER

October is my favorite month, So long it has been so, Jack Frost swoops down with artist brush And leaves it all aglow, Colors are sketched all over the plains And on our hills so fair, And rich are we who have eyes to see October's beauty there.

Unfortunate I would surely be If I took no time to see October's beauty as it bursts Upon our maple tree. The beauty will soon disappear The tree left still and bare But in my mind I'll not forget October's beauty there.

HOW GREAT EVERY DAY

How great any day can be When love and kindness fill it As beautifully illuminated As a new house brightly lit

In busy hours how wonderful A soft, kind word of cheer So wonderful its tenderness Brings a little tear

The tiredness of the hardest work Is lost at close of day Because sot, kind words Make it that way.

WHITE CANDLES

On Christmas Eve I burn white candles, This is the reason why Somehow white tapers softly gleaming Bring Bethlehem's manger nigh.

I place whit candles in my windows To thrill the heart of me; And small candles flame so brightly Around my Christmas tree.

Glowing wreaths of holly, mistletoe Hang lovely where they are, But give me white candles softly glowing To bring wise men, shepherds, star.

THESE WOODS ARE MINE At the cabin

These woods are mine, The spruce, the pine, And aspen just a few, A lovely scene Of sparkling green When summer suns peek through. When there I go With step so slow We meet in ecstacy; They sway and sing As birds on a wing And thrill the heart of me.

And in the spring When flowers they bring To make an altar bright, Fresh hope they give For me to live Throughout the darkest night. With face raised high Toward the blue sky I say a grateful prayer; My woods so kind In them I find A peace beyond compare

IMAGINATION?

Perhaps it's just imagination But it really seems to me That in springtime birds are happier- And every little bee.

Their singing and their buzzing Always seems to say Come, join us one and all To greet the new spring day.

It may be just imagination But all the world seems to sing Come, greet the happiest time of the year The joyous days of spring.

THE LONE WALK

I walked along the great sand dunes Laid down millions of years ago, The blowing sand was the same- The angry whistling winds still blow.

I walked beneath the giant redwoods And felt I was far into space As I looked up at these tall monarchs Dripping with beauty, age and grace.

I walked along the Pacific beach Where white capped waves had recently wept; I picked up treasures from the wet earth Washed up from the ocean's depth

I walked along a cool mountain stream In the evening's long afterglow And felt a peace, contentment and joy That truly those that walk alone can know

Someday I'll take a longer walk . . . A walk everyone must trod I will not stop or even look back Until I find my home with God

THE FIRST SPRING FLOWER

I went into the woods to Meditate. The sky was veiled With a mist like that of the sea, The soft breeze was refreshing; A doe and her fawn lifted Their kind eyes to me Then hid them selves in the woods.

Aspen and pine trees bent over Walking with ease I glanced among the trail the dead roots, Like many folks in prayer. In The tender sprouts and dried leaves, The cathedral quietness of the place And there I found you Moved a moist, spruce fragrance; Standing all alone Long shafts of light fashioned In the place where you had Windows of stained glass. Just rolled away the stone.

SAP IS RISING IN THE TREES

A flash of gold in the willow grove, A hint of spring is in the breeze, The sun looks down and broadly smiles, For sap is rising in the trees.

Birds will return in colors gay With happy songs that's sure to please, And ice will run in rivulets For sap is rising in the trees.

Jonquils will soon be on parade In beds where now is winter's freeze, But winter's might is soon to fail For sap is rising in the trees.

The grass will grow in tender greens And spread itself far O'er the leas Where timid rabbits will come forth For sap is rising in the trees.

Hope becomes strong when the spring Softens the earth's long, bitter freeze. Now hope is sweet and evident For sap is rising in the trees.

GRATITUDE FOR THE SEASONS

We're grateful, God, for winter days, With brooks and friends by firesides blaze.

We're grateful for the bursting spring, When jonquils bloom, and night birds sing.

We're grateful for the summers long, And harvesters with happy song.

We're grateful for autumns colors bright, Deep peace and calmness of night.

For all the seasons of the year Humbly we thank Thee, God so dear.

THINGS I LIKE

I like a brook as it wanders Happily down into the glade; I like the haze when it comes Softly as the evening fades

I like the sound of the singing wind As it blows from the mountain top; Its laughter and musical songs That sound as if they'll never stop

I like the plunging, roaring water Hurrying down the mountains steep; I like the light of the little stars To watch over me while I sleep

I like the distant lightning's flash And the mourning dove's soft croon I like the song of the mocking bird As he sings beneath the moon

I like all flowers, the rocks, the trees And all that grows from out the sod For it is very clear to me They are the handiwork of God.

A SHEPHERD SPEAKS

O'er hills that once were soft and green, Our flocks were wandering, whit'ning them, When from out a darkened midnight sky - In answer to a suffering peoples cry - An angel in a lyric burst, proclaimed The Prince of Peace has come to earth.

"In David's city He is born," the angel sang; Then, suddenly, a thousand voices rang Down O'er the earth, a chorus far more sweet Than anything I'd ever chanced to meet. "Peace on earth, good will to men," Came sweetly from the angel throng. Then slowly rising to our feet, with one accord We all went forth the Prince of Peace to greet Proclaiming Him Our King and Lord.

A BIRD SINGS IN A WINTER STORM Sweet was the summer, soft and golden, Delicious the fruit on each little limb; I doubted not for my daily keep I trusted Him.

How small my faith should it waiver Now that the earth is no longer warm; And frail my trust should it fail me Since I'm lost in a winter storm.

THINGS TO REMEMBER

When days are filled with perplexities And every moment brings its share of Worries, I think on these things- Lovely things like these, quiet things- A brook between green banks, A spider web laced with dew, Autumn leaves drifting down With sun rays slanting through, A bird song distant heard, A pine tree's lone melodies Moving on the evening air When wind fingers touch its keys.

With closed eyes I seek them Over and over again- Woods emerging with the dawn After night of rain.

ASSURANCE

When in my heart there creeps a doubt That God is everywhere about I look and think upon these things, They make my soul rejoice and sing- Long evenings, and early dawn, A robin feeding on the lawn; White daisies blowing on green hills, The goodnight song of whippoorwills; A plane riding on a cloud, Mountains draped with a misty shroud; A smile, a clasp of friendly hand, Oh yes, 'tis then I understand And in my heart I cannot doubt That God is everywhere about.

A LITTLE STREAM

I know a darling little stream That wanders through the glade Glistening in the sunshine Darkening in the shade

I wonder where it's going As it hurries on its way And just where will it be When comes the close of day

Will it stop at some farmer's place And water well jis garden spot Or fill his spring up to the brim Or muddy up his barnyard lot

I love this darling little stream Giving out no hurt or pain Its water will come back to me In hail and snow and warming rain

WORKING TOGETHER

We planted a flower garden My Father God and I And with our constant care it Grew beneath a friendly sky.

I worked the soil with rake and hoe And bulbs and seed did sow, He sent the sun and cooling showers That made them sprout and grow.

Now hyacinths in our garden live And fill it with perfume, It's like a bit of heaven with Gold daffodils bloom.

Primroses nod and bow to me Each in its own cute way, While the saint faces turned to God The Easter Lillies pray.

Butterflies dip on joyful wings Soft as an evening prayer To sip from my tulips bright heads A nectar sweet and rare.

At close of day with God I walk Our garden's twilight shade And in the flowers see beauty that Together we have made.

And so, I lift my eyes to Him In prayers of thankful bliss Because He helped me make and grow A garden just like this.

TO A WOODLAND FLOWER

Pretty little flower Please stay as you are

Brightening lonely places Like a jeweled star.

You thrill the soul of me Stemming through the grass;

Lovely little flower You and life soon pass. 28

A FIELD OF DAISIES, TALKING Did you ever hear a field of daisies talking Growing from out their earth-bound bed? Did you ever take time to stop and listen To what the little daisies said? It's the grandest bit of conversation, Great for mortal ears to hear They're saying each unto the other "Our loving Father dwells with us here".

It's easy through the daisies, faces lily white, For God to talk with me, prove His power and might. If you would the Master better know Go out in the fields where the daisies grow, Walk among them on the dark, moist sod, Let them talk to you--they'll show you God.

MY FRIENDS

Over the hills my friends are fast going Over hills so distant and far away To a place I do not know They are going day by day.

They are like little children Wandering from home when night is dark They hear a voice calling, more lovely Than that of a morning lark.

No, it isn't dark where they are going, Bright is their path all the way, We should rejoice with them as they cross The hills to that land that lies far away.

LOVELINESS IN LIFE

Life has so much loveliness in it, Such wonderful and beautiful things; A tree silhouetted against a sunset, A bird that sits in a tree and sings, Young folks whose laughter bubbles over Like bees on a field of clover

Life has so much loveliness in it, Bright day emerging after night of rain, Someone to love and hold you After days and nights of pain, And for the spirits glad delight There are moon and stars to fill the night

So, look for the loveliness around you If you buy it, never count the cost For one short day of loveliness, Count many days of ugliness lost. For every day of loveliness Take all you can get--no less.

FALLING SNOW Tumbling, falling, drifting, So beautiful, so white, Covering earth's scars and seams; Falling, softly falling, Snow so pure And feathery light. Divinely beautiful, My Father's loom is busy Perfecting a flowered tapestry for spring.

Seeking, humbly seeking My Father's will to know; Thankful for His love and care Bountiful as The pure white snow. We're grateful for all The beauty He designs Within our rushed and busy lives to bring.

WINTER MAGIC A fluffy white snow tumbled down last night And hid all the ugliness away, It covered my world with a blanket of white To make lovely the night and the day.

By my window big snow flowers bloom On every bush and shrub and silvery tree; The jeweled radiance of such winter flowers, Wrought y the Master's hand, brings peace to me.

Silently I watch a blue bird Light on the bird bath capped with snow And of the beauty all around I wonder, does he know?

This beauty God has sent to bless, Through it5, I hear His sweetest voice; The winter magic I love best-- His snow flowers are my choice.

A VISION OF WINTER COMING OVER PIKES PEAK (at the cabin)

Lofty Pikes Peak stands high above the dark green wood Like the shadow of a ghost, promising no good; But soon a brilliant star, its point hung on the crest, And the big round moon, dressed in his Sunday best, Will rise above and bathe the sleeping monster With a silvery gleam, making a picture No artist could paint or even dream, but bringing A vision of wintertime following close behind; Oh well, let the winter come, it will find Us ready to welcome the ice and snow And all the blustery winds from the heavens that blow, It will blow for naught against our cabin door As we stack high the logs that fires may roar And cast their lights across the hearth, with flames To sway like ripened grain on stormy nights, For we all snug and warm will know That beauty sleeps beneath the snow.

CROSSING THE MOHAVE DESERT ON A HOT SUMMER AFTERNOON This desert is locked inside a yellow globe, Its air so warm and dry and still It seems that all the winds of time are dead And awful heat has caused the globe to fill.

The ground glows with warmth like a boiler; The shrubs are withered, flowers are dying. Leaves of the smoke trees droop like a seared metal, And in the washes willow trees are drying.

One small plane drifts within this yellow globe, High in the sky like a sailboat in a bay; Palo Verde trees stand limp and motionless, Distant mountains loom as smoking stacks of hay.

The golden ball that is the sun above Scorches the sky; No man's spirit true Could fail to melt in heat such as this. Warm light make one hole for cool air to come through.

I know somewhere outside this shimmering plain There's Cooler air and drenching rain.

MY CHILDHOOD HILLS

I am homesick for my mountains My childhoods lovely hills And the feeling that sweeps o'er me My heart longing fills.

Their grassy windblown summits I would cheerfully ascend; Invite each flower and blade of grass To be my cherished friend.

Their trails and winding roads I'd take to passes high To watch the moon and stars come out Against a midnight sky.

My eyes mist for my childhood hills Where kingly crests aspire Against a weary sun That sets a ball of golden fire.

I long to leave these plains below To put all care behind; For daughters of beauty for my soul My lovely hills I'd climb.

ASPEN AGAINST THE SNOW

I went the way of the aspen trees, When in the delicacy of spring They fluttered on the soft warm breeze Like humming birds on a wing.

I went the way of the aspen trees, When with the summer they were green, I thought the trees against the pines The loveliest things I'd seen.

I went the way of the aspen trees, When pensive air was crisp and dry, In flames of burnished gold they stood Against the cloudless autumn sky.

Today, I went the way of the aspen trees, And now, the thing I want to know Can anything more lovely be Than aspen trees against the snow?

LITTLE FINGERS

Dancing little fingers Has the soft spring wind Touching every flower The rain has caused to bend

Moving all the branches Into little song And grass to gently swaying All day long

And when the moon is high An any lovely night I can see them reaching up To touch its silvery light.

MY CANDLE AND FRIEND

The moon Is my candle and friend On any restless, wakeful night I miss the sunshine and starlight But I love the moon

The moon Is my candle and friend On any sad and lonely night It's a lamp so tall, my only light My lovely moon

The moon Is my candle and friend On any happy, thought filled night The dimness of my eyes comes to light At sight of the moon.

WHEN I WAS A CHILD

When I was a child, a very young child, So young that clouds were ships and boats And every flower talked to me And family ties were all that love denotes

So young - that snow flakes were big white birds, And icicles should never go away; Forked lightening a thing of beauty was And thunder clouds were witches at play

I wanted to know - why nights were dark, Why the sun made light for the day, What made the song in the throat of a bird, And why didn't the butterflies stay?

What made the chestnuts fall at night Why did pussy willows wear fur coats Why did whippoorwills sing at dusk And what put the bark in my doggie's throat?

I wanted to grow up fast and learn Why apples red grew on pinkish bloom, Where the rain came from and how, Why the outdoors was such a big room?

Now that the years have settled down on me And I have traveled many lands and seas- I have found all the answers to My childhoods little mysteries.

PIONEER WAGON Today I looked upon a wagon At rest in an old ghost town, In it no flowers were blooming Only sunshine and dust I found

Its wheels that once knew desert trails, Thirsty plains and cold mountain streams Stood erect and still in ageless sand - Reminder of some strong man's dreams.

I pray to remember always . . . My appreciation never be stilled For the old western born wagons Whose riders had hopes fullfilled.

A LINK WITH THE PAST

The old sod cabin seems tenantless now As it stand on the prairies all alone, But it's crammed with memories of bygone days And dreams turned into realities, Although the folks who built it are long gone.

Here men dreamed dreams - as men have always done - A place in this new land they wanted to fill, Then worked to make those dreams come true - As all who dream must nobly do - By strong determination and a will

The winds of time blew against these earthly walls, Sometimes fierce, more often kind Nd full of song. From these doors cups of cold water passed To thirsty, hardpressed passers-by Who had traveled weary miles and long.

These dreamers saw rich harvests gathered in, But sometimes there was none at all. Babies were born when days were cold and hard, And laughter shook the little house, Sadness came when death made an unfriendly call.

Now, not far away, stands a finer house In great beauty on a sunlit hill; But the old sod cabin still stands as a monument To dreamers, who helped to build a continent By strong determination and a will.

WHY SPRING?

Yellow beds of daffodils, the hills And small blue violets in the grass; I cannot calm my pulsing heart But question all the birds that pass

It would know why the dogwood shrouded In glorious white against green trees And the wondrous glory of it all - The waving valley lillies in the breeze

Oh, heart of mine, this foolish heart, Sweet spring had answered no man's call Silently she comes and makes a wonderland Silently she runs away when summer comes And that, oh heart of mine, is all.

I WATCH MORNING COME TO THE DESERT

Dawn breaks quietly like the muted tones of violins, And sun baked sands are hushed and white as the new day begins; The desert stirs and wakens and wiggles to meet the hills With the strength of ages long that never bends to human wills.

The poppies rub their sleepy eyes, put on their gowns of gold And with verbenas go on parade to see the moon unfold; The mute saguaros hold their silvery bloom high in the air As the sun tops the mountains, puts gold sunbeams in each actor's hair.

Then a silence, lone and vast, enfolds all the desert land As when of old the wise men traveled across the ancient land; A sense of something everlasting fills all the morning air And the great Creator bids me quiet myself in prayer.

COMING OF THE KING

Across the wind-blown desert sand, under a cloudless winter sky, wise men came from far away lands, bearing rich gifts in aged hands in answer to a Baby's cry.

Down from the frosty mountain side, in the hush of the silvery night, shepherds whose hearts had burst aflame, went forth to worship One whose name was Mighty God, Everlasting Light.

Wise men, shepherds, camels are gone, all things may fade and cease to be, but love born that night for the King will be a true and living thing throughout the long eternity.

THE HOPEFUL NEW YEAR

I come to you a clean New Year Fresh from the very hand of God, Born as the shadows of the Old Year Disappear quietly upon an unknown sod.

'Tis true, I bring you uncertainties, But do not let them make you frown; And there's sure to be disappointments, too, And troubles all around.

Remember, that the sun will always rise. On every morning's new born breeze; And tender shoots with sweet fresh flow'rs Will grow beneath the spreading trees.

Sweet birds will sing and brooks will run As they have always done before; The winds will blow and seas will roll Their white capp ed waves against the shore.

Church bells will ring and choirs will sing Their songs of sweetest adoration, As organs swell their grandest tones In praise and exaltation.

Dear darling babies will be born And many young folks will be wed While older ones their blessings give And many earnest prayers are said.

And in the fall, white frosts will come And paint the landscape gold and brown; And in the winter time the snows Will fall, and cover up the ground.

So take the New Year that I am With faith and hope and love abiding, Rememb'ring, that behind all clouds The sun and stars are always shining.

43 BOATS GO TO THE SEA

Shelter Island

Into the dawn, the bay awakes, And boats rush out to the sea Their shadows fall like angel wings Sending their messages back to me.

Turned into the sun, bathed in its light, On the glassy, solemn sea They cut deeply their paths as Out they go to the sea's immensity.

Sail on, beautiful boats, sail on, Turn not to the left or the right, But sail straight ahead until Your fishing grounds are in sight.

MY GARDEN

Into my garden I go When flowers are all abloom In the evening or early morn Or in the burning noon.

I love each little flower And touch them tenderly I thank each precious one For thoughts they give me.

They share with me their beauty, I drink deeply their perfume, But they, like me, will fade And pass away too soon.

AFTER

The house is quiet and lonely now Since the children have gone away, The clock sits on the mantle board And loudly ticks the time of day.

All was joy and happiness As long as they were here, The house was full of laughter, Our hearts were filled with cheer.

Now, to their own homes they have gone, We would not have it otherwise, But when they leave it's hard to keep The stinging tears back from our eyes.

Life has been wonderful, life has been good To loan us these our children fine, And, so, I'll get to work and be content To wait again for their vacation time.

PINE TREES ON A HILL

Pine trees were friends of mine today As I walked on a windy hill; They sang and danced and gave me peace Against my stubborn will.

I must admit I clutched within A needless grudge, and wanted to, But the pine trees lifted thoughts To other days when the skies were blue.

My grudge was bitter, bitter indeed, But the pine trees sang it all away; "Silly to hold a grudge," they Taunted me upon this windy day.

TO A MOUNTAIN BLUE BIRD SINGING IN THE RAIN

What inspiration makes Your soul so strong That you can fill the air With such sweet song?

Does the rain make Your love song soar Washed clean and white As the sycamore?

With clouds so gray There is no sky Are you hanging out Your songs to dry?

From your lovely act I wish to win For my own soul Such discipline,

So that I, too, When dark clouds spill Can send my song Across some lonely hill.

THE LOVELY PACIFIC

I saw the Pacific look to heaven As if it were a living thing; I saw it give its rolling waves In long unerring worshiping.

I saw it dash upon the sand Treasures, which in its depth have birth; I saw its waves beat loud and long Against the lovely hills of earth.

I saw great clouds weep over it As one whose love was buried there; I saw mists rise from lonely shores Like wings from a morning prayer.

I saw the sky o'er its blue depths Arched like a temple in the air; I seemed to hear the angels sing From tall choir lofts suspended there.

I saw the silvery moon, the sun, The many stars, God given, Burn upon its heaving breast As altar fires, dropped from heaven.

NIGHT FALLS IN YOSEMITE

It came silently, softly, the dusk, And all the trees stand green and stark The winds forget their whispering In this great and beautiful park

The darkness comes slowly, faintly, And slips down among the trees The sun withholds its golden glow From all the glistening leaves.

Then my heart beats hurriedly. In this deep darkening place I hear footsteps falling And in the doorway see your face.

TO RAY IF YOU GO BEFORE I DO

On sunny says I'll see you come And tend the garden you so loved Your brown and tender hands Will always be well gloved

On moonlight nights you'll sit with me We'll talk of all the friends we've known You'll stay till the light of early morn Forgetting that the night is gone

On dark, dreary days you'll be here To take me in your arms and kiss The saddened, tear stained face - This I would not miss

On spring nights you will come with whispers Soft as petals falling on the grass We'll walk the hills and valleys we once knew Then all too soon you will vanish and pass

Someday, I too will come to death I know not what it will be I'll be content if on the other side You are there to welcome me. 49

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