What The Rattlesnake Said
The moon's a little prairie-dog.
He shivers through the night.
He sits upon his hill and cries
For fear that I will bite.
The sun's a broncho. He's afraid
Like every other thing,
And trembles, morning, noon and night,
Lest I should spring, and sting.
We Meet At The Judgment And I Fear It Not
Though better men may fear that trumpet's warning,
I meet you, lady, on the Judgment morning,
With golden hope my spirit still adorning.
Our God who made you all so fair and sweet
Is three times gentle, and before his feet
Rejoicing I shall say:—"The girl you gave
Was my first Heaven, an angel bent to save.
Oh, God, her maker, if my ingrate breath
Is worth this rescue from the Second Death,
Perhaps her dear proud eyes grow gentler too
That scorned my graceless years and trophies few.
Gone are those years, and gone ill-deeds that turned
Her sacred beauty from my songs that burned.
We now as comrades through the stars may take
The rich and arduous quests I did forsake.
Grant me a seraph-guide to thread the throng
And quickly find that woman-soul so strong.
I dream that in her deeply-hidden heart
Hurt love lived on, though we were apart,
A brooding secret mercy like your own
That blooms to-day to vindicate your throne.
Our Guardian Angels And Their Children
Where a river roars in rapids
And doves in maples fret,
Where peace has decked the pastures
Our guardian angels met.
Long they had sought each other
In God's mysterious name,
Had climbed the solemn chaos tides
Alone, with hope aflame:
Amid the demon deeps had wound
By many a fearful way.
As they beheld each other
Their shout made glad the day.
No need of purse delayed them,
No hand of friend or kin —
Nor menace of the bell and book,
Nor fear of mortal sin.
You did not speak, my girl,
At this, our parting hour.
Long we held each other
And watched their deeds of power.
They made a curious Eden.
We saw that it was good.
We thought with them in unison.
We proudly understood
Their amaranth eternal,
Their roses strange and fair,
The asphodels they scattered
Upon the living air.
They built a house of clouds
With skilled immortal hands.
They entered through the silver doors.
Their wings were wedded brands.
I labored up the valley
To granite mountains free.
You hurried down the river
To Zidon by the sea.
But at their place of meeting
They keep a home and shrine.
Your angel twists a purple flax,
Then weaves a mantle fine.
My angel, her defender
Upstanding, spreads the light
On painted clouds of fancy
And mists that touch the height.
Their sturdy babes speak kindly
And fly and run with joy,
Shepherding the helpless lambs —
A Grecian girl and boy.
These children visit Heaven
Each year and make of worth
All we planned and wrought in youth
And all our tears on earth.
From books our God has written
They sing of high desire.
They turn the leaves in gentleness.
Their wings are folded fire.
