Chapter IV

Once more old Hezekiah stayed his hoe To squint at Eben. Silent, Eben scanned A little roll of sheepskin in his hand, While, row on dusky row, Tall bean poles ribbed with dark the gold-pale afterglow. The boy looked up: here was another land! Mountain and farm with mystic beauty flared Where Eben stared.

Stooping, he lifted with a furtive smile Two splintered sticks, and spliced them. Nevermore His spirit would go beastwise to his chore Blinded, for even while He stooped to the old task, sudden in the sunset’s pile His radiant Herdsman swung a fiery door, Thro’ which came forth with far-borne trumpetings Poets and kings,

His fellow conquerors: there Virgil dreamed, There Cæsar fought and won the barbarous tribes, There Darwin, pensive, bore the ignorant gibes, And One with thorns redeemed From malice the wild hearts of men: there surged and streamed With chemic fire the forges of old scribes Testing anew the crucibles of toil To save God’s soil.

So Eben turned again to hoe his beans, But now, to ballads which his Herdsman sung, Henceforth he hoed the dream in with the dung, And for his ancient spleens Planting new joys, imagination found him means. At last old Hezekiah loosed his tongue: “Well, boy, this school--what has it learned ye to know?” He said: “To hoe.”

_The Forum_ _Percy MacKaye_

THE MARVELOUS MUNCHAUSEN

The snug little room with its brazier fire aglow, And Piet and Sachs and Vroom--all in the long ago,-- Oh, the very long ago!--o’er their pipes and hollands seen; And on the wall the man-o’-war, and firelight on the screen!

Their flowered, bulging waistcoats that wrinkle when they chuckle; The baron, much-mustachioed, and gay with star and buckle, And bristling in a uniform as scarlet as his cheeks, With choker lace beneath his chin, and splendid, yellow breeks!

The smoke drifts blue, and bluer through that window, all abreeze, Are glinting sky and glistening sea beyond the Holland quays. Blue tiles, red bricks, the bustling wharves, with color’s oriflamme; Starched caps and rosy-posy cheeks--the girls of Amsterdam!

The snug little room with its brazier fire aglow! Oh, listen, will he tell them, as he told them long ago,-- Oh, very long ago, a-laughing in his sleeve!-- The marvelous Munchausen, with the fables _I_ believe?

* * * * *

“When I had sown the Turkey beans that reachéd to the moon, And lifted all Westminster in the sling from my balloon (Swung over the Atlantic, They peered from windows, frantic), When, eagle-back, I’d scanned the pole in broad, eternal noon,

“In Queen Mab’s chariot I ventured on the sea. ’Twas like a mammoth hazelnut, with matchless orrery A-sparkle on its ceiling, With planet systems wheeling And giddy comets sizzling all about the head o’ me.

“The nine bulls drew it, as stout as those of Crete, And all were shod with horrid skulls that clattered on their feet. Rich banners waved behind ’em, While on their backs, to mind ’em, Postilion crickets chirruped them, all chirping loud and sweet.

“Ghost of the Cape I warn you of, for he is bottle-blue. We split his Table Mountain. He gibbered and he flew. The bulls straight showed disfeature With gazing on the creature, Stampeding in their harness when I gave the view-halloo.

“Though wrecked on Egypt’s obelisks, disaster I defied, And harnessed Sphinx, the emperor’s gift, to tow an ark as wide As great Westminster; With beau and bell and spinster, And cleric, clerk, and coronet all tête-à-tête inside.

“‘Good folk, we sail for Africa,’ said I to all my train. ‘When bold Munchausen leads you forth, what laggard dares remain In slippered ease, uncaring To share my deeds of daring?’ Their cheers amazed my modesty, and more had made me vain.

“‘The sultan’s bees I’ve shepherded. I’ve hornpiped at Marseilles, Where gulped me down, well nigh to drown, the liveliest of whales. I’m riskiest of riskers, But, blow my grizzled whiskers!’ I cried, ‘May jackals gnaw my bones if now Munchausen fails!’

“By night the lions roared at us. By day the simoons came And swept across our caravan in sandy clouds of flame; But naught dismayed our temper, or The genial Afric emperor Had missed my handsome greeting, to his long-abiding shame.

“The people of the Mountains of the Moon I wined and dined. I reigned at Gristariska when His Majesty declined. Reforms I wrought untiring, With Gog and Magog squiring, And Frosticos, my bosom friend, who lent a legal mind.

“For last superb achievement,--bright tears may Envy shed!-- I built a bridge, from Africa to distant England spread: No edifice of fable, Nay, not the Tower of Babel, Surpassed its mammoth glory in the heavens overhead.

“So back across its noble arch my retinue and I Advanced with blaring trumpets through the regions of the sky. Clouds lingered to enwreathe us, Earth’s kingdoms far beneath us, And martial music cheered our march from all the birds that fly.”

* * * * *

The snug little room with its brazier fire aglow, And Piet and Sachs and Vroom all sleeping long ago,-- Oh, so very long ago!--and, chuckling in his sleeve, Still, o’er the slumbering table, Drone-droning on his fable, The marvelous Munchausen, with the stories _I_ believe!

_Century_ _William Rose Benét_

TRAIN-MATES

Outside hove Shasta, snowy height on height, A glory; but a negligible sight, For you had often seen a mountain-peak But not my paper. So we came to speak. A smoke, a smile,--a good way to commence The comfortable exchange of difference!-- You a young engineer, five feet eleven, Forty-five chest, with football in your heaven, Liking a road-bed newly built and clean, Your fingers hot to cut away the green Of brush and flowers that bring beside a track The kind of beauty steel lines ought to lack,-- And I a poet, wistful of my betters, Reading George Meredith’s high-hearted Letters, Joining betweenwhile in the mingled speech Of a drummer, circus-man, and parson, each Absorbing to himself--as I to me And you to you--a glad identity! After a while when the others went away, A curious kinship made us want to stay, Which I could tell you now; but at the time You thought of baseball teams and I of rhyme, Until we found that we were college men And smoked more easily and smiled again; And I from Cambridge cried, the poet still: “I know your fine Greek Theatre on the hill At Berkeley!” With your happy Grecian head Upraised, “I never saw the place,” you said. “Once I was free of class, I always went Out to the field.” Young engineer, You meant as fair a tribute to the better part As ever I did. Beauty of the heart Is evident in temples. But it breathes Alive where athletes quicken airy wreaths, Which are the lovelier because they die. You are a poet quite as much as I, Though differences appear in what we do, And I an athlete quite as much as you. Because you half-surmised my quarter-mile And I your quatrain, we could greet and smile. Who knows but we shall look again and find The circus-man and drummer, not behind But leading in our visible estate, As discus-thrower and as laureate?

_Yale Review_ _Witter Bynner_

THE KALLYOPE YELL

[_Loudly and rapidly with a leader, College yell fashion_]

I

Proud men Eternally Go about, Slander me, Call me the “Calliope.” Sizz . . . . . Fizz . . . . .

II

I am the Gutter Dream, Tune-maker, born of steam, Tooting joy, tooting hope. I am the Kallyope, Car called the Kallyope. Willy willy willy wah HOO! See the flags: snow-white tent, See the bear and elephant, See the monkey jump the rope, Listen to the Kallyope, Kallyope, Kallyope! Soul of the rhinoceros And the hippopotamus (Listen to the lion roar!) Jaguar, cockatoot, Loons, owls, Hoot, Hoot. Listen to the lion roar, Listen to the lion roar, Listen to the lion R-O-A-R! Hear the leopard cry for gore, Willy willy willy wah HOO! Hail the bloody Indian band, Hail, all hail the popcorn stand, Hail to Barnum’s picture there, People’s idol everywhere, Whoop, whoop, whoop, WHOOP! Music of the mob am I, Circus day’s tremendous cry:-- I am the Kallyope, Kallyope, Kallyope! Hoot toot, hoot toot, hoot toot, hoot toot, Willy willy willy wah HOO! Sizz, fizz . . . . .

III

Born of mobs, born of steam, Listen to my golden dream, Listen to my golden dream, Listen to my G-O-L-D-E-N D-R-E-A-M! Whoop whoop whoop whoop WHOOP! I will blow the proud folk low, Humanize the dour and slow, I will shake the proud folk down, (Listen to the lion roar!) Popcorn crowds shall rule the town-- Willy willy willy wah HOO! Steam shall work melodiously, Brotherhood increase. You’ll see the world and all it holds For fifty cents apiece. Willy willy willy wah HOO! Every day a circus day.

_What?_

Well, _almost_ every day. Nevermore the sweater’s den, Nevermore the prison pen. Gone the war on land and sea That aforetime troubled men. Nations all in amity, Happy in their plumes arrayed In the long bright street parade. Bands a-playing every day.

_What?_

Well, _almost_ every day. I am the Kallyope, Kallyope, Kallyope! Willy willy willy wah HOO! Hoot, toot, hoot, toot, Whoop whoop whoop whoop, Willy willy willy wah HOO! Sizz, fizz . . . . .

IV

Every soul Resident In the earth’s one circus tent! Every man a trapeze king Then a pleased spectator there. On the benches! In the ring! While the neighbors gawk and stare And the cheering rolls along. Almost every day a race When the merry starting gong Rings, each chariot on the line, Every driver fit and fine With the steel-spring Roman grace. Almost every day a dream, Almost every day a dream. Every girl, Maid or wife, Wild with music, Eyes a-gleam With that marvel called desire: Actress, princess, fit for life, Armed with honor like a knife, Jumping thro’ the hoops of fire. (Listen to the lion roar!) Making all the children shout Clowns shall tumble all about, Painted high and full of song While the cheering rolls along, Tho’ they scream, Tho’ they rage, Every beast In his cage, Every beast In his den That aforetime troubled men.