DORTHEA LAWRENCE MANN DRAGON Some saw a dragon eating up the light, Oho! Oho! Oho, ho, ho! Some heard a lost bird riding out the night, Oho! Oho! Oho, ho, ho! But I saw: A low dark hill with its twisted back Two wings of flame from the green cloud rack, A sprawling flank overlaid with leaf Glitter and gleam and shine like steel, Crackle and lash like a serpent’s tail! And I heard: The wind draw out of the west and wail, Dance and stagger and jig and reel! With the long low sound of a life in grief! I saw a life in grief Oho! Oho! Oho, ho, ho Dance and stagger and jig and reel! Oho! Oho! Oho, ho, ho! JEANNETTE MARKS “THE BOOKMAN.” GREEN GOLDEN DOOR Green golden door, swing in, swing in! Fanning the life a man must live, Echoes and airs and minstrelsies, Love and hope that he called his, Fear and hurt and a man’s own sin Casting them forth and sucking them in, Green golden door, swing out, swing out! Green golden door, swing in, swing in! Show me the youth that will not die, Tell me the dream that has not waked, Seek me the heart that never ached, Green golden door, swing out, swing out! Green golden door, swing in, swing out! Long is the wailing of man’s breath, Short is the wail of death. JEANNETTE MARKS SLEEPY HOLLOW, CONCORD Four graves there are upon the wooded crest, Each one a shrine to pilgrims ever dear. Uncovered, mute, are those who tarry here. Romance’s dreaming master lies at rest Beneath the cedars. Near is one whose breast Held Mother Nature’s lore. Beyond, the seer And sage. There, one who saw her duty clear, Her name by little men and women blessed. Four friends who walked in Concord’s pleasant ways Long years ago. They dwelt and worked apart, But now the world has crowned them with its bays, And holds them close forever to its heart. O, sacred hill! There Genius, guarding stays, And from its slopes shall never Love depart! JOHN CLAIR MINOT THE SWORD OF ARTHUR A castle stands in Yorkshire (Oh, the hill is fair and green!) And far beneath it lies a cave No living man has seen. It is the cave enchanted (Oh, seek it ere ye die!) And there King Arthur and his knights In dreamless slumber lie. One time a peasant found it (Oh, the years have hurried well!) It was the day of fate for him, And this is what befell: Upon a couch of crystal (Oh, heart be pure and strong!) He saw the King, and, close beside, The armored knights athrong. And all of them were sleeping (Praise God, who sendeth rest!) The sleep that comes when strife is done And ended every quest. Beside the good King Arthur (How high is your desire?) His sword within its scabbard lay, The sword with blade of fire. Now had the peasant known it (Oh, if we all could know!) He should have drawn that wondrous blade Before he turned to go. If but his hand had touched it (The sword still lieth there!) He would have felt in every vein A lofty purpose thrill.