1 Woodland Echoes by 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. 2 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. 3 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. 4 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. 5 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. 6 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? 8 9 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. 10 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.