Thy beauty, poignant as a dart, Drave god-like men to wild despair, And lit the skies with lurid glare But oh, thy false and fickle heart, Helen of Troy! COW BELLS Oh, the distant muffled tinkling Of the cow bells in the vale, When the dawning stars are twinkling And the silent dews are sprinkling Fresh the daisies in the dale. How they flood the soul with music Sad as song of nightingale-- Tinkling melodies of magic, Vague, uncertain, longing, tragic,-- Just the cow bells in the vale! HOLLYHOCKS It may not be quite orthodox To say so in society, And yet I think the hollyhocks, Of every known variety, That bloom and bless the humble home, Are sisters sweet of charity,-- Fair nuns that wear a beauteous cowl,-- God's priestesses unto the soul That lives in righteous poverty. BURNS _Acrostic_ Warm-heated bard, in thee I find Infinite soul, irradiant mind; Long-suffering worth and love refined Lent thee their ken. In Robert Burns the heart enshrined E'en mice and men. ROBERT LOVEMAN He knows Will Shakespeare's human heart And feels his godlike brain; And sings his soul a kindred part In rondeau and quatrain. BOOKS 'Tis early morn and on the green The children are at play; The sunlight falls in sparkling sheen, Their hearts are blithe and gay: A shadow flits across the scene-- The hour has come that sadness brings, The master rings, the master rings, 'Tis books! 'Tis late at eve, and o'er the green The weary toilers pass; The shadows fall, the sky's serene, And dew is on the grass: A light breaks in upon the scene-- The hour has come that gladness brings, The Master rings, the Master rings, 'Tis books! SONGS UNSUNG Unvoic-ed songs that always die On the strings of the harp that gives them birth, The flutter of hope, a breath, a sigh, The song nor asks nor gives a why-- The poet's song he deems most worth. * * * * * The silent music of the heart is sweet To listen to. The slow and measured beat Of the imprisoned soul that finds a voice In melodious sound oft may rejoice Us much; but that which sometimes plays on strings Too fine to sympathize with words e'er sings The sweetest melodies, though never heard Except by ear of him whose soul is stirred. THE RAINBOW'S END