from Memories of President Lincoln
1
When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd,
And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night,
I mourn'd, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring,
Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west,
......
A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon;
The kid that handles the music-box was hitting a jag-time tune;
Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew,
And watching his luck was his light-o'-love, the lady that's known as Lou.
When out of the night, which was fifty below, and into the din and the glare,
There stumbled a miner fresh from the creeks, dog-dirty, and loaded for bear.
He looked like a man with a foot in the grave and scarcely the strength of a louse,
Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar, and he called for drinks for the house.
There was none could place the stranger's face, though we searched ourselves for a clue;
......
127
"Houses"—so the Wise Men tell me—
"Mansions"! Mansions must be warm!
Mansions cannot let the tears in,
Mansions must exclude the storm!
"Many Mansions," by "his Father,"
I don't know him; snugly built!
Could the Children find the way there—
......
ONE song, America, before I go,
I'd sing, o'er all the rest, with trumpet sound,
For thee--the Future.
I'd sow a seed for thee of endless Nationality;
I'd fashion thy Ensemble, including Body and Soul;
I'd show, away ahead, thy real Union, and how it may be accomplish'd.
(The paths to the House I seek to make,
But leave to those to come, the House itself.)
......
239
"Heaven"—is what I cannot reach!
The Apple on the Tree—
Provided it do hopeless—hang—
That—"He aven" is—to Me!
The Color, on the Cruising Cloud—
The interdicted Land—
Behind the Hill—the House behind—
......
House
He had a small but practical house
He quickly gets ready wherever he goes
A house, like a house, a little home, whatever you choose
But to have a house that goes with you
It must be a snail, a hermit crab, or Peter
This is the story of Peter's house that fits on his shoulder
Sometimes blisters him all the way
So Petar stops and fixes it
......
In a mass of blooms
sits a summer house all gold
on a sandy beach
Momentous waves each moment
of drama filled beauty days
Near the coral lane
adjoining bright reds and plums
beneath blues and cream
Orange and yellows in front
......
The house in the yellow daisies,
is captivated by breezy graces,
near a meadow very green.
Bluebirds flutter by in summer,
scarlet berry bushes to plunder,
where nature is queen.
Gold stars flash all springtime,
when crickets call for nighttime,
......
It has been ages since the laughter died, which was many suns ago,
Soon swept away by fleeting time, like the brief giggle of a rainbow.
My vacant halls now are silent, and the flower garden is overgrown,
Effusing rich and cloying fragrance, lovely nature reclaiming its own.
The tree boughs are overhanging, the bushes begging to be pruned,
Like a piano that once made beautiful music, is begging to be tuned.
The fruit trees so long neglected, has left fruit rotting on the ground,
......
House of sun,
where the colors sing.
Sunroom blooms!
Inner bliss
and adventures in perfume,
at sunset or noon.
Spring air wafts,
warm through the window-
Peach rose prance!
......