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Poetry

Spring in My Garden
By Blanche Kendall Mckey

WHEN first my eyes shall glimpse that dim-lined shore,
Made earthlike by warm blood that seeps
Into the tissue even of a dream,
O may the waves gleam azure as they roll,
And sparkle, as with April rays;
And may the sky be cloudless, blue-
Blue sinking into deeper blue, until
The siren loveliness shall hold my eyes
And grip my pulse and bate my breath and still
The tears that surely cannot die, but only sleep
Beneath the gentle hush of altered life.
O may the air be softer than this breeze,
Perfumed with lilac and incense from my deep narcissus bowl,
Alive with waxen bloom; may it stir the very roots of feeling,
Lest my heart should break with all that it must leave behind-
Still willowed lakes, cool shaded lanes, pinkbudded trees,
And meadow larks that call and call and call,
Nor seem to know that every song must end!

Tree in Spring
By Christie Lund Coles

OLD tree that was so gnarled and black
So brief a time ago,
For you the spring-time has come back
With leafage-lovelier than snow!
How proud you stand now, clothed in lace,
Each knotted bough concealed;
A buoyant thing of pride and grace,
Only your loveliness revealed.
Old tree, how many storms have spent
Their passion to destroy your art?
How many spring-times have been sent
To bolster up your heart?

Grandmother
By Estelle Webb Thomas

SHE couldn't make a poem, so she moved like one, instead,
And there was rippling music in the simplest thing she said;
She couldn't paint a picture, but a picture she could be
By means of soap and water and some home-made finery.
She never earned a penny, but the ones she tried to save
Would have paved a shining highway from her cradle to her grave;
Yes, tried to save but couldn't, since to her open door
Came those whose need was greater far than all her tiny store.
The boundaries of her narrow sphere were clearly marked by duty,
But on life's highways, far and wide, went those she'd touched with beauty;
And how surprised she'd be to know-dispensing heavenly cheer-
How many tapers that she lit burn to her memory here!

To Mother
By Zoan Eddavene Houtz Beane

I AM not afraid
Oh, Mother dear-
Since you are there-
To close my eyes
Upon this world so fair,
But looking forward
To coming home to you,
Just as it was
In those loved days we knew;
To lay my head
Upon your breast again
And know the lessons o'er
Through experience and pain.
Oh, may I live
Worthily enough
While I am here
To enter through the threshold
Without fear
Of past mistakes or sin
Mortality seems heir to,
Or of meeting
Those I have known,
That I have been unfair to.
To know that I
Was faithful to the end,
May it be said of me,
"There was a friend."
That life's brief span
Has found me in deed fair,
My faith in God renewed,
By each experience there.
That each sorrow,
Every joy and pain
Prepared my soul
To meet with yours again,
And even though my heart
By lessons has been torn,
I give thanks to God and you,
That I have been born.