Having English blood in her veins, Mrs. Kilburn Kilmer considers herself something of a Yorkshire woman. The famous White Horse she has climbed many times. * * * * * VALENTINE WRITTEN FOR MY MOTHER, 1913 I will send my heart to England, and will make it learn to act Like a vacant minded vicar, or a curate full of tea; I will make my heart talk Cambridgese, or Yorkshirish, in fact; I will make it be as British as a human heart can be; I will dress my heart in roses, roses red and ever gay; I will steep my heart in scarletest of wine; I will teach my heart to bow, and smile, and sing, and dance, and play-- Just to make you take it for a Valentine. * * * * * BIRTHDAY POEM--1913 England! England! put your veil of mist away, Dress in green, with poppies in your hair. England! England! let your birds sing “Holiday,” Let your lanes be jubilant and fair. She is made of singing, therefore hail her with a song; Strew her path with loveliness, and crown her with delight. Golden hours of joy and beauty should to her belong. Everything that lives to-day must own her gentle might. England! England! now the jocund feast is here. Now is time for frolicking and mirth. England! England! now another turning year, Brings the day that celebrates her birth. * * * * * VALENTINE TO MY MOTHER, 1914 The English meadows call her, and the streets of London Town, And the pleasant little villages under the Yorkshire Hills. She can see the roads, like ribbons white, that stretch across the down, And the great slow turning sails of sleepy mills. She longs for stately mansions, in whose eaves the pigeons coo, And she longs for yellow corn fields, where the scarlet poppies shine, She loves the folk of England, and, of course, they love her too, But she lingers in America to be my Valentine. Set to music by Mrs. Kilburn Kilmer and published in London in the Spring of 1914. * * * * * TO AN ADVENTUROUS INFANT ON HER BIRTHDAY, AUGUST, 1915 “England,” she said, “is surely England yet; Therefore it is the place where I should be. In spite of war, I know that tea is tea, A cigarette is still a cigarette. “Why should I worry over Wilhelm’s threat?” And thereupon she said goodbye to me, And gaily sailed across the dangerous sea, To where, among the Zeppelins, tea was set.