*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 67016 *** DAY DREAMS [Illustration: _Rudolph Valentino_] DAY DREAMS RUDOLPH VALENTINO [Illustration] (TO M.) _The serenade of a thousand years ago_ _The song of a hushed lip_ _Lives forever in the glass of today_ _Wherein we see the reflection of it_ _If we but brush away_ _The cobwebs of a doubting faith._ _Published by_ MACFADDEN PUBLICATIONS, INC. NEW YORK 1923 COPYRIGHT, 1923 BY RUDOLPH VALENTINO Printed in U. S. A. To J. C. N. G. MY FRIENDS HERE AND THERE INTRODUCTION I can not tell a rondelay In words of yesterday I can not tell a couplet For words come as they may. I’ll do my best--I’ll try a bit Of ultra-modern rhyme And cast aside the shackles Binding “Once upon a time.” PREFACE To you, my gentle reader, I wish to say a foreword of warning before you peruse the contents of this book. I am not a poet nor a scholar, therefore you shall find neither poems nor prose. Just dreams--_Day Dreams_--a bit of romance, a bit of sentimentalism, a bit of philosophy, not studied, but acquired by constant observation of that greatest of masters!... _Nature!_ While lying idle, not through choice, but because forcibly kept from my preferred and actual field of activity, I took to dreams to forget the tediousness of worldly strife and the boredom of jurisprudence’s pedantic etiquette. Happy indeed I shall be if my _Day Dreams_ will bring you as much enjoyment in the reading as they brought to me in the writing. _Rudolph Valentino_ _New York--May 29th, 1923._ CONTENTS PAGE THE GIFT BOOK 1 NATURE 3 THE LOVE CHILD 5 HEART FLOWER 9 YOU 11 DAY DREAMS 15 SUSPICION 17 THE SAGE 19 MORPHIA 21 DOMINO 23 THE SPHINX 25 STRADIVARIUS 27 EXTRAVAGANZA 29 MIRAGE 31 GLORIFICATION 33 REMEMBRANCE 35 THREE GENERATIONS OF KISSES 37 A BABY’S SKIN 39 GRATITUDE 41 SHADOWS 43 ACCUSATION 45 EVEN SONG 47 GYPSIES 49 THE CARRIER 53 THE SCHOOL OF LIFE 55 THE WANTON 57 SLAVERY 59 WITHIN A WALL 61 THE CHALICE 63 SOLICITUDE 65 YOU 67 AT SUNRISE TOMORROW 69 POVERTY 71 CREMATION 73 THE LUTE 77 POWERLESS 79 CAP AND BELLS 83 PATCHWORK QUILT 85 TO A. M. 87 THE PHILOSOPHY OF A PESSIMIST 89 GEMS OF THOUGHT 91 TO C. F. 93 SYMPATHY 95 LABOR 99 WEALTH 101 UNDERSTANDING 103 HUNGER 105 MONEY 107 THE CHOICE 109 ITALY 111 ERIN 113 BEES 115 TO M. T. 117 IMPERIALISM 119 RADIO 121 THE KALEIDOSCOPE OF LOVE 123 MEMORIAL 125 DUST TO DUST 127 LULLABY TREE 129 ADAGE 131 FAITHFULNESS 133 REFLECTIONS AT RANDOM 135 COOPERATION 143 DAY DREAMS THE GIFT BOOK (To J. R.) A book is a kindly gracious thing. Each has a particular gift to bring. It may be the wealth Of a wonderful life, Or the thrilling adventure Of Jungle strife. Perhaps it’s a present Of orient gold, Tales of Aladdin Enchantingly told. Maybe a view Of olden days, Knighthood--Romance, Flowery ways. And again a journey To lands afar, Where strange things happen, And wonders are. All of them--Gift books But plainly I see, Not one of them holds The gift for me. I want a book That will lazily roam Down the dear Pathway To Folks back home. NATURE Nature is the open book Wherein the truths of the world are found Nature is an endless story Of never changing glory When you study nature your teacher is God So always let your reference be This Greatest of Masters. THE LOVE CHILD (To B.) Don Juan roamed the summer sky A shady cloud of gray But this dull attire Hid a heart of fire In quest of romance stray. Vision A lovely golden sunbeam Shining from above Came radiant by And caught the eye Of this vagabond of love. Delusion In wild tempestuous wooing He kissed her heart away All in a jest It was the quest Of the cloud on a summer’s day. Conclusion Through tears the sunbeam glimmered Then happily she smiled The tempest passed Alone at last With a little rainbow child. Dawn runs in a crimson streak Across a leaden sky-- Just like a pulsing vein of life An artery of love not strife And it livens the heavens high. So in our sky today it seems, No sign of life we see. Do we not know, Night’s bound to go, Dawn follows instantly. If it were not for the showers, where would the rainbows be? HEART FLOWER O lovely rose Within whose chalice lies The heart of my true love, Did not the gods in benediction stoop To bless thee from above? And place within thy roseate lips The rubies counterpart. I found it there A jewel rare The flower of thy heart. YOU Your Eyes Your Eyes, Mystic pools Of beauteous light. Golden brown In color Deep, Yet, amber clear. Unshadowed By a frown, Fathomless, Wherein My senses Drown. Your Eyes. Your Lips Your Lips, Twin silken petals Of a dewy rose. Altar Of the heart Where love Kindling desire Worships unafraid. Crucible Of Passion. The rose in masquerade. Your Lips. Your Kiss Your Kiss, A flame Of Passion’s fire The sensitive Seal Of Love In the desire, The fragrance Of your Caress; Alas, At times I find Exquisite bitterness In Your Kiss. DAY DREAMS (To The Friend) _Yesterday_--in contemplation We dreamed of love to be, And in the dreaming, Wove a tapestry of Love. _Today_--We dream our dream awake; Realization, Coloring our Romance With all the glory Of a flaming Rose. _Tomorrow_--What awakening lies before us: Our tapestry In shreds perchance, Or mellowed--glorified By love’s reflection? I wonder-- SUSPICION There crossed the path Of my dream of you A gossamer web of gray, So soft its sheen, Almost unseen, But it stopped me On my way. Like a cold, gray granite battlement It walled me all about, For a cruel steel, Was in the feel Of the silken web of doubt. THE SAGE (To M.) O Gladness shining bravely From out the eyes of youth, Be strong in your belief of good, Of valor and of truth. For soon enough, Too soon enough-- The gladdest light meets doubt, Then flickers, flutters, just a bit, But, doesn’t quite go out. O Sadness peering divinely From out the eyes of age, Be strong in your belief of good. To youth--still be the sage. For soon enough, Too soon enough, The saddest light in doubt, Flickers, flutters, flickers, And finally goes out. MORPHIA I am The Ingrate Morphia, You hold the brimming cup of your Life To me, athirst am I, And drink my fill Of strength, until The cup is drained dry. Then, satisfied, I care no more. The cup, I cast away, Crunch ’neath my heel. Its doom I seal, As I walk on my way. DOMINO Passion’s cloak, An ashy thing to wear, Covering the shroud of love That once was fair. What gruesome imagery Does this convey to me. Grim death--itself no ghastlier a thing than this Could ever be. THE SPHINX (To B. H.) O Sphinx--a monument to man! Built by his hands of clay, You symbolize the power of might Used in an earthy way. Yesteryear, you stood for man’s symbolic strength sublime, Today, you all but buried are Beneath the sands of time. O Wondrous mountain--living Sphinx! Built by the hand of God, You symbolize the power of Love Used with the lowly sod. Yesteryear, a symbol of divinity sublime, Today, you lift your rugged head Untouched by hands of time. O Sphinx--a monument to man! Built by his hand of clay, You symbolize the power of might Used in an earthy way. Yesterday, you in grandeur stood alone. Today, you’re mingling with the sand A rotting mass of stone. O Wondrous mountain--living Sphinx! Built by the hand of God, You symbolize the power of Love Used with the lowly sod, E’er yesterday, you stood a monument of Love, Today unchanged, your glorious face, In worship turned above. STRADIVARIUS (To Jascha Heifetz) If power were only given me, To paint the tone picture that arises from the soul Of that sanctuary of sound--your violin, Where would I find pigment worthy of such a use, Save in the fleeting splendour of some sky. Where a brush--save in a snowy feather From the shining wing of an archangel. Where the canvas--save across the dream memory of one who heard And was blessed by the hearing. EXTRAVAGANZA Extravaganza! The very word is vulgar. Still vulgarity is necessary to development, for even a weed growing in a swamp can sometimes be cultivated into a hot house plant. Take an orchid not under its own surroundings, but dress it by putting it in a proper receptacle, and what a difference! But, outside of beauty what have you? If we could only combine the beauty of an orchid with the soul of a weed we would get an improvement in the orchid, for real weeds are grateful enough to spring up between cobblestones, even to be trampled upon. Rather be a blade of grass that knows the heart beats of Mother Earth, than the potted plant which is pampered and only restored to a semblance of life. MIRAGE Happiness--you wait for us Just beyond, Just beyond. We know not where, Nor how we shall find you. We only know you are Waiting, waiting, Just beyond. GLORIFICATION (To W. W.) The arms of the earth broke through the sod And clenched his fist in derision, For clay knows not the might of God, It has but earthy vision. The finger of God wrote in the sky A sign of mighty fire: “Reach up to me for I am Life” But earth could reach no higher. With strength of muscle, with might and main, Earth struggled and then defied, But God stretched forth His hand of Love And Earth was glorified. REMEMBRANCE (To M. O.) An infant memory, A tiny fragile thing, Called into being By the brush of a colored wing Across the canvas Of my tired mind. It grows, A lovely picture of the past I find, You! Grown to fullest stature Of the perfect soul, The tiny sheltered memory Has reached at last Its goal. THREE GENERATIONS OF KISSES (To M. K.) A Mother’s kisses Are blessed with love Straight from the heart Of Heaven above. Love’s Benediction, Her dear caress, The sum of all our happiness. Till we kiss the lips Of the mate of our soul We never know Love Has reached its goal. Caress divine, You reign until A baby’s kiss seems sweeter still. That beloved blossom A baby’s face Seems to be Love’s resting place. And a million kisses Tenderly Linger there in ecstacy. Were I told to select Just one kiss a day; Oh! What a puzzle I would say. Still a baby’s kiss I’d choose, you see, For in that wise choice I’d gain ALL Three. A BABY’S SKIN Texture of a butterfly’s wing, Colored like a dawned rose, Whose perfume is the breath of God. Such is the web wherein is held The treasure of the treasure chest The priceless gift--the Child of Love. GRATITUDE (To A. T.) The oleander blooms for me, In dawning splendrous beauty, I planted it so tenderly, And love has done its duty. All in a garden of the earth, All in a plot of ground, Wherein I found no bit of worth, The seed I planted in the ground. O Tiny seed almost unworthy To be cherished for thy looks, But deep within the heart of you Was wisdom never found in books. You are the spirit of the good, The joy, the beauty of all things, You are the melody of life--the song That Mother Nature sings. And so to that sweet lullaby You, in your perfumed cradle, rest Safe in the arms of Mother Earth, Held closely to her loving breast. Until one happy wondrous day When love so tenderly drew nigh, Lifted your tiny hand of green And turned your face toward the sky. The oleander blooms for me, In dawning splendrous beauty, I planted it so tenderly And love has done its duty. SHADOWS Shadows--gray symbol of a broken faith. We cling to hope--in hope we find The symbol of a broken heart. Shadows--gray bleak gossamer web Of what once was woven ’round my heart. We slink within thy domain--the land of shadows. For still we hope. But knowing always, that a broken faith can never be restored To more than it was--a Shadow. ACCUSATION Out of a shadowed corner Comes a phantom of the past, To confuse me And accuse me For a vain iconoclast. To chide me And deride me In a seething scornful blast. To cheat me And defeat me, Conscience, crucifies at last. EVEN SONG I sing a song to the sapphire sky That curtains a sleeping earth. I sing a song to the stars on high That mark a jewel’s worth. My feeble voice, so weak it sounds, A puny earthy cry, Yet when its echo comes to me, Angelic voice in harmony, I know it is not I. It was belief that gave it wing, That weakling voice of mine, And carried it where angels sing God’s Melody Divine. GYPSIES (To R. B.) Little gypsies of the city, Little sparrows--more’s the pity, Homeless, heedless of the weather, Happy, banding all together, Never giving thought to trouble, Never seeing evil double, Would that we who proudly mention Every honorable intention To the world with trumpet blaring, Could, like sparrows, take uncaring All the little earthly struggles, Cast them gypsy-like aside And fly happily, and gladly All about earth’s countryside. Why do the birds chant the psalm of glory? Only because they alone are free throated and unafraid. Do they realize the danger in the sling-shot of civilization? No--they are only conscious of the Joy within. Why sing of Joy-- If Joy is to be unheard. Why sing of Faith, If Faith is to be barred. For all that is good Is forever alive, And all that is bad Is dead before it be born. THE CARRIER (To J. K.) A poor little messenger clad in gray, Sent as a go-between--they say. Took a betrayal under its wing And guarded and cherished the slimy thing. We speak of Glory, and Trust, and Men, But that is all forgotten when We send this softly feathered bird With messages best left unheard. Oh! What a mockery ’cross the sky The dove is sent to act as spy. THE SCHOOL OF LIFE (To M) Lives are classes--we are pupils with excellent teachers. Experience should tutor us, but we so often shirk school. School can be made happy and we delight in making a higher grade--but through not heeding Experience’s teaching we often are left back in the old class, and sometimes, sad to relate, are put several grades lower. But, happily, there is always the opportunity of skipping many grades upward. It’s a poor rule that doesn’t work both ways. The Mind is the Grade we work in. We can have majestic thoughts, living in a hermit’s hut, or we can think as a swine in a palace on a throne of gold--let us choose our station--kingly children, or swineherds. Eternity is the Empire. THE WANTON To love, save that which mockery was, No heart, save that of stone. A multitude forever hers, Alas--not one--alone! Cradled in the arms of many, Not where to lay her weary head. Fortune smiled--held out her hand And struck the wanton dead. SLAVERY (To E. A. P.) Love I am a slave, Yet free as birds above, Sold into bondage By the tender kiss of love. Lust I am a slave In the rat trap of disgust, Sold into bondage By the lurid kiss of lust. Hate I am a slave Prisoned by the walls of fate, Sold into bondage By the cruel kiss of hate. Crime I am a slave Behind the bars of time, Sold into bondage By the leprous kiss of crime. Death I am a slave No longer in my breath, Given sight of freedom Through the graciousness of death. Still am I a slave In the hand of destiny, Thought alone enslaved me And thought alone can free. WITHIN A WALL Once in a time when skies were gray I chanced to walk in a cloistered way, I saw the ones who closed the door On all the world had spread before. Their eyes--that were closed to the joy of good, They thought the God’s law they understood. O Pity, Pity, for such as they Who only look on skies of gray, From cloistered windows sad of eye, When all about is glorious sky. It was but the tiny patch of gray, The shadowed thing that happened to play Behind the back of the glorious earth. Alas, they thought it was all the worth Of the whole wide world, the glorious world. But the folded wings were not unfurled And closed to use they lost the call, And so they lost to them their all. THE CHALICE (To E. H.) The chalice of a lily cup Is indeed the sacrament That Mother Nature uses When she communes with God. SOLICITUDE On the sands of a happy shore, Walked two lovers, hand in hand, Leaving all that’s gone before. They mark each footstep in the sand, Knowing well that every foot print Will be trod by their own blood, Therefore, let each couple ponder O’er their footsteps For future good. (To D. K.) Man is the word of the story, Woman is the inspiration, God is the book that binds, None other can be what is now the finished book. YOU You are the History of Love and its Justification. The Symbol of Devotion. The Blessedness of Womanhood. The Incentive of Chivalry. The Reality of Ideals. The Verity of Joy. Idolatry’s Defense. The Proof of Goodness. The Power of Gentleness. Beauty’s Acknowledgment. Vanity’s Excuse. The Promise of Truth. The Melody of Life. The Caress of Romance. The Dream of Desire. The Sympathy of Understanding. My Heart’s Home. The Proof of Faith. Sanctuary of my Soul. My Belief of Heaven. Eternity of all Happiness. My Prayers. You. AT SUNRISE TOMORROW (To E. B.) O Love, when you leave me do not say: “Tomorrow we meet at twilight” For that is the time of the darkening hour, The ending of the day. All is glowing, gleaming in our love, All is pulsing, breathing in the light Of understanding--it is not symbolic of twilight, Nor yet of dawning, for it has reached the zenith of love’s day. So when you leave me, dearest, do not say: “Tomorrow we meet at twilight.” Rather, beloved of my heart, “We meet at sunshine tomorrow.” POVERTY Possessing the jewels of the earth, Holding within my grasp the sceptre of the universe, All these would but make me more the pauper-- Were I beggared of your love. CREMATION (To G. S.) I Just a packet of letters tied with a bit of blue, Just a packet of letters that once were sent by you To one who proved unworthy Of the Love inscribed within. The tiny packet of letters, a witness of my sin. II Just a packet of letters, but they are not mine own. I dare not claim one thought in them Not even as a loan, For to the one you thought I was In all sincerity You bared the secrets of your soul. Now I send them back to thee. III Just a packet of letters A monument of love. You lie within the fireplace, In smoke you’ll rise above The sordidness of all deceit, The grime of earthly thought, Yet, in this flash of living fire, The flame of love is caught. IV Just a packet of letters a while ago you were, Now in vaprous symphony of gray I send you back to her, For the spirit of true love that’s penned, Must rise to meet her soul In pearly glory ’round her head. Love’s halo--is its goal. * * * * * To rake over the dead ashes of a burnt out love one must use the pen point of poetry. THE LUTE The lute, a barrier to song of soul. For none save God Can music charm From out a thing man-made. A bowl of wood, A string or two to arm The troubadour with weapon strong. POWERLESS When I see a look of sadness, In the eyes of You, Thoughts of grief akin to madness Surge my being through. Am I then so weak and helpless, That I can not send Even shadowings of sorrows To their deserved end. Garden of delight wherein the jewels of earth do lie! Tell me, in your vault of gold, will the flowers ever die? Nothing of so fair a mien could return to earthly dust. Even if the earth do say, “It is finished,” trust we must In the God who tells of light that will lift to Heaven above Every perfumed flower that blows symphonies on wings of love. CAP AND BELLS (To F.) In Life’s masquerade the disguises are many: Here’s a man masquerading as Wealth, Wears a million of gold, But a pauper, I’m told, He hasn’t a penny of health. Here comes a Beggar, in tatters and rags, Masking as Poverty old. He may look the part, But the wealth in his heart, Makes him richer than Croesus in gold. The costumes are varied disguises beguiling That cover the true man beneath One wears learned looks, That he’s borrowed from books And a co-operative laurel wreath. And still another pretending a clown, In make-up the silliest Fool, But his knowledge of men, Is beyond the ken Of a sage of the orthodox school. There are millions of others in Life’s Motley Masque Who follow the art of mime. They mimic and play At mockery today, But they never fool Old Father Time. PATCHWORK QUILT A Patchwork Quilt, Industrious name. Once it was not quite the same. A different fame, A “Crazy Quilt,” Same foolish dame Entitled you. It was sorry fame. Life is like that, We do not see How little bits Make harmony-- It’s up to man to take each bit Of happiness and make it fit. But if he takes and doesn’t dwell Upon the pattern--Well, it’s Hell! A crazy quilt the name’s O. K. But start a patchwork quilt today. (To A. M.) The sky is the mirror that reflects all phases of Life. The clouds of Doubt bring showers, but there is always the “Silver Lining” promise. * * * * * _Moral_: If the sky is the limit better fix it clear in your mind to begin with. THE PHILOSOPHY OF A PESSIMIST I do not care for money made easily, It is not lasting--I know. I do not care for friends made easily, They are not lasting--I know. I do not care for anything that comes easily, It never lasts--I know. But I fell in love with you easily, But, not lastingly--I know. GEMS OF THOUGHT Diamonds--Scintillating wit of sharpest ray Emeralds--Philosophy, growth in words today Pearls--Are the hymns of pity Sapphires--Songs of the skies Rubies--Are poems of passion And love that never dies. (To C. F.) The curtain is raised on the first act--the overture is over. We can play our parts. They say life’s a stage, but what a sad thing we have so few good stage managers. Our productions have more in the way of Costume and lack, so often, the right lines. Lines do count, not always words, but sympathy of thought is quite as necessary. SYMPATHY (To J.) Sympathy is just as essential to the world as any other great attribute of good, but it must be sympathy in the right place. Sympathy of thought has been the greatest lever in the machinery of mankind, but to sympathize with a weak nature sometimes breaks up his foundation. Know your subject. Never withhold sympathy in loving one, but rather than sympathy, use encouragement as a tonic to tone up a weakling. Kindly sympathetic interest is only another name for encouragement. Never take away a prop without putting a stronger one in its place. On a stretch of sandy beach I see naught of human presence, but upon looking closer, a remembrance of the past. I sit upon a rock and meditate upon what once was. I see myself in all the splendor of my youth. I see my boon companion--Hope, and one other one, whose name I’d best forget. We walked--Hope and I--but ever the unnamed one stalked by my side. I turned to gaze in fascination at my companion who speaks not, but forever stalks silently beside me. I finally forget my Hope to gaze in interest at the other. Hope, neglected, lags behind until we walk alone--myself and the unnamed one. We walk forever, but the walk brings us to the abyss of the world. What name has that one whose identity I fail to know? O, Eternity, thou art my sight and knowledge. It was Doubt, whose companion I became. LABOR On whose shoulders are the crosses held, None can liken a laborer to him who bears the heavy-hearted thoughts. What can I say--it is more laborious than many tasks, Yet--’tis not task-- For task is given to be done And ye are the cross bearers if ye will. WEALTH (To B. F. S.) Treasures in the lowly casket that we call a brain, Can jewels of the earth compare With all that man finds hidden there? The wealth of knowledge, that will lead a willing soul Into a land of untold wonder, Where will be the lasting goal Of every seeking thought-- UNDERSTANDING (To the Brother of Maris) Maris of the golden eyes, You in all innocence Looked upon a lovely world In wondering shyness. Beauty beckoned, Then turned the corner of another day Leaving in her stead An unknown one, The stranger to light. Maris of the saddened eyes, In your pity, Looking from another world Have compassion on beauty Who thoughtlessly turned away, Leaving another in her place The stranger to light. HUNGER I have journeyed toward the city On the long, long road of Life, I have learned how little Pity Plays a speaking part in life. I have learned that only Money Is the voice that’s heard today, Calling for God’s milk and honey, Even Hunger has no say. I have reached the city’s center By the crooked road of Hell, For Starvation’s been my mentor And has taught her lesson well. MONEY Money--you Harlequin of the great masquerade of life. You wear the dollar sign as your mask. It may hide you--yes, for a time, But when at last grim reality stalks into the midst of the festivities, The mask is ruthlessly torn away, and then--is seen The true expression hidden behind it--the cruel visage of discordant greed. THE CHOICE Words are jewels rare-- If need be Words are sometimes fair You heed me, But our choosing makes them seem The reflection of a dream. Let us, therefore, Choose in reason, Whereby all that good is ours, And by knowing rightful season Pass forever--happy hours. ITALY (To Caruso) The earth is earth--that is its worth, To men who walk below. But to the soul that seeks its goal, Each land is all they know. One calls it Home, another Heart, another Property, But to the one who loves the sun He calls it Italy. ERIN The green sod is red now-- Rebellion The green sod is white now-- Purity The green sod is blue now, With truth And the green sod is ever green, It is growth--none can stop natural growth Erin--land of dreams--Awaken. BEES The air is alive with buzzing bees The little workers of destinies. We grasp and strive to make our way, Each life a hive and so our day Is fraught with honey sweet, if we Know all is good in destiny. (To M. T.) A certain lad had a long way to go, so he sat still and waited until--well, another lad also had a long way to go--so he hurried along and before long he received several gifts not to be sneezed at. No, they were not to be sneezed at, though I must say they made his eyes water a bit. The gifts were lovely little blisters on his pedal extremities, so he had to sit down and take care of his poor feet and in pain tarried, looking at his poor feet. Ah, yes, our other little lad took it very slowly, almost like the proverbial snail, but kept on the lookout and pretty soon a nice, comfortable wagon came along, and took the slow little boy for a nice ride, and the good little slow boy rode merrily by the poor little fast boy, who still sat nursing his blisters. He had really gone stepping on some little brimstones,--though he said they were pebbles. The good little slow boy turned back and put his hand to the poor little fast boy, but I regret to say he raised his digits to his nose--O, world where is thy sting. * * * * * Note--This is not a moral, it is only something that happens every day on our best trafficked roads. IMPERIALISM Oh, Mirror--most ungrateful ruler Man has ever had. We trembling bow to your decree, But oh! ’Tis very sad For all our great devotion And concern in your behalf, No matter how we worship you, You just give us the laugh. Though we may claim democracy, You hold us like a slave. The tyrant ruler of the world, From cradle to the grave. Pa Adam’s prize Apollos Look to you (It is to laugh) Their reward for faithful service, Is Methuselah’s Epitaph. RADIO (To H. M.) Radio of romance, You Broadcasting to the universe All that is most blessed In all things, But to me alone The melody of your Love Flows through The artery Of time and Space, For unity, Can never know Division. THE KALEIDOSCOPE OF LOVE Synonyms and Antonyms A--Adoration--Anticipation--Affinity--Arguments. B--Beauty--Bliss--Bitterness--Bondage. C--Caresses--Circumstances--Confidences--Charm. D--Desire--Delusion--Dreams--Divorce. E--Ecstacy--Engagement--Ego--End. F--Fascination--Forgetfulness--Flattery--Faith. G--Gossip--Gratitude--Gift--Goodbye. H--Happiness--Honor--Heartache--Hell. I--Intuition--Irony--Idolatry--Integrity. J--Jealousy--Joy--Justice--June. K--Kisses--Keepsakes--Knowledge--Kismet. L--Lips--Loneliness--Logic--Longing. M--Marriage--Morality--Money--Man. N--No--Nearest--Novelty--Never. O--Opposition--Own--Offering--Opulence. P--Passion--Promise--Pride--Proposal. Q--Quality--Quest--Queries--Quarrels. R--Romance--Reveries--Realization--Remembrance. S--Sympathy--Sacrifice--Shame--Settlement. T--Thoughts--Truth--Temper--Tears. U--Unkindness--Understanding--Uncertainty--Unfaithfulness. V--Virtue--Vanity--Vows--Vengeance. W--Wisdom--Wishes--Wedlock--Woman. X--The Unknown--Love. Y--Youth--Yearning--Yes--Yawn. Z--Zenith--Zest--Zeal--Zero. MEMORIAL (To A. S. R.) A Saint in a stained glass window, To the memory of one Who “lived the life,” In sin and strife, Is the epitome of fun. A bit of colored crockery, A picture wrought in glass, His memory’s mockery ’Tis best to let it pass. A Saint in a stained glass window, A blest memorial true, When it reflects the beauty of The memory of you. DUST TO DUST I take a bone--I gaze at it in wonder--You, O bit of strength that was. In you today I see the whited sepulchre of nothingness--but you were the shaft that held the wagon of Life. Your strength held together the vehicle of Man until God called and the Soul answered. LULLABY TREE Cradle a thought on a bough of a tree, Where it will swing so lazily, Where it will gather to its heart All in Nature’s lovely mart. For every lovely living thing Stops to talk by a tree and sing, Of what has gone on that very day In fields and forests far away. If little thoughts hear happily All that’s said about a tree, They’ll grow to be so wise and true, They’ll come back to the heart of you Much stronger, grown in beauty free, Because their cradle was a tree. ADAGE Happy childhood knows no sting That the age of stealth doth bring. Stealing hours from the day Takes the joys of strength away. Stealing hours from the Night Taking all--for rest is Might. When we steal away a Trust, Nothing ever can we give Back to him and so we must Never Steal, but Give to Live. FAITHFULNESS (To Our Little Friend--The Dog) A dog is the nearest approach to the sweet submissive spirit God would have in us, Faithfulness in the highest form. He only is faithful because he believes in you, as God would have us believe in Him. REFLECTIONS AT RANDOM (To A. T.) Sing a song to the moon Or sing a song to the sun But just as long as you sing a song Your day or night is well begun. Woman, the unreasonable Reason for the Great Reason, which the sages call Life--Others not so knowing call it Love. Faith--The Engagement--repartee of Love. Hope--Marriage--maybe its reply, but Charity--Divorce--is the retort courteous. The wedding march or two-step, I should say, is only too often the lock-step. Punishment is seldom unmerited, though we may not always see the cause. It is unwise to doubt others when you are not sure of yourself. Scientists are fools in some respects, I mean the so-called ones, for they ignore the science of all important things. Friend is symbolical of Heaven, but some play Hell with it. Fun is a healthy disease and is very contagious. “May I intrude” is often substituted for “Do I intrude"--bores are not connoisseurs in the selection of verbs. Make the best of what comes, for the best is coming. The Great Divide is the division of thought which separates the Wise from the Fools. Whatever has in it the element of restlessness is like the poison ivy plant; it causes rash and spasmodic movements, and after all the scratching the victim is worse off than before. Worlds, and Worlds to live in, and so few do. Care is helpful if we carefully care, but when we carelessly care, be careful. Gossip--never related in the same way. When you eat hash you do not always recognize the different kinds of meat in it, do you? So it is with Twice Told Tales. We always prefer the most difficult way. It seems so much more important, but once we realize it, truth is always simplest when it is Truth. It takes a hero to accuse no one, but take another’s accusation to his heart. Love’s greatest expression is Service. Eyes are living windows. Into the garden we all go, but most are looking for the worm in the bud and never see the promise of the flower. ART the very mockery of it In a painted mask we sometimes call a face, Alas, that pigment be so badly used And artistry brought to much sad disgrace. Take freedom but take care lest it take your liberty from you. To be a humorist one must be concise, witty, but short-lived, for the good die young. Cleverness--word most useful to the Bard Who finds his pathway all beset with doubt, For if we find his hidden meanings hard, We call him “clever"--then he knows what we’re about. Publicity is the keystone in the Arch of Triumph. Money--pretender to the throne of all we most desire. Doubt is the opposing influence of our lives. Happiness, some never know as a lasting friend, but only as a bowing acquaintance. Wifehood is a profession, but Womanhood is the Expression. Faith is the oasis in our Desert of Lost Hope. Given a chance to run in the Great Race, even a weakling can win if he wears the Armor of Courage. Purpose in doing is the cornerstone of success. Did anything ever build itself over night that was worthy the name Great Structure? Loving service is more helpful than scholarly advice. Friend--Most lovely word, akin to love, its dearest relation--might I say. We dream of Greatness in humility, only to awaken to the greatness of Humility. CO-OPERATION O Just and Mighty Army of the World of Living Things March on into the open heart of Man, He needs a touch of nature with the sympathy it brings In order to work out Life’s Perfect Plan. *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 67016 ***