Chapter I: Front Matter

Anthology of Massachusetts Poets

by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE

Contents

HOME BOUND—JOSEPH AUSLANDER
AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL—KATHERINE LEE BATES
YELLOW CLOVER—KATHERINE LEE BATES
THE RETURNING—SYLVESTER BAXTER
TWO MOODS FROM THE HILL—ERNEST BENSHIMOL
A BANQUET—ERNEST BENSHIMOL
SONG—GEORGE CABOT LODGE
THE WORLDS—MARTHA GILBERT DICKINSON BIANCHI
THE RIOT—GAMALIEL BRADFORD
HUNGER—GAMALIEL BRADFORD
EXIT GOD—GAMALIEL BRADFORD
ROUSSEAU—GAMALIEL BRADFORD
JOHN MASEFIELD—AMY BRIDGMAN
1620-1920—LE BARON RUSSEL BRIGGS
THE CROSS-CURRENT—ABBIE FARWELL BROWN
CANDLEMAS—ALICE BROWN
SUNRISE ON MANSFIELD MOUNTAIN—ALICE BROWN
BURNT ARE THE PETALS OF LIFE—ELSIE PUMPELLY CABOT
FOUR FOUNTAINS. AFTER RESPIGHI—JESSICA CARR
IN THE TROLLEY CAR—RUTH BALDWIN CHENERY
IN IRISH RAIN—MARTHA HASKELL CLARK
CRETONNE TROPICS—GRACE HAZARD CONKLING
TO HILDA OF HER ROSES—GRACE HAZARD CONKLING
DANDELION—HILDA CONKLING
RED ROOSTER—HILDA CONKLING
VELVETS—HILDA CONKLING
THE MOODS—FANNY STEARNS DAVIS
HILL-FANTASY—FANNY STEARNS DAVIS
THE MIRAGE—NATHAN HASKELL DOLE
THE ROAD BEYOND THE TOWN—MICHAEL EARLS, S.J.
THE LILAC—WALTER PRICHARD EATON
GOD, THROUGH HIS OFFSPRING NATURE, GAVE ME LOVE—CHARLES GIBSON
TO MUSIC—MAUDE GORDON-ROBY
THE VOICE IN THE SONG—MARY GERTRUDE HAMILTON
HYMNS AND ANTHEMS SUNG AT WELLESLEY COLLEGE—CAROLINE HAZARD
REUBEN ROY—HAROLD CRAWFORD STEARNS
COUNTRY ROAD—MARIE LOUISE HERSEY
WREATHS—CAROLYN HILLMAN
MEMPHIS—GORDON MALHERBE HILLMAN
SAINT COLUMBKILLE—E.J.V. HUIGINN
MISS DOANE—WINIFRED VIRGINIA JACKSON
FALLEN FENCES—WINIFRED VIRGINIA JACKSON
CROSS-CURRENTS—WINIFRED VIRGINIA JACKSON
THE FAREWELL—WINIFRED VIRGINIA JACKSON
SONG—OLIVER JENKINS
LOVE AUTUMNAL—OLIVER JENKINS
ECHOES—RUTH LAMBERT JONES
WAR PICTURES—RUTH LAMBERT JONES
AN OLD SONG—ARTHUR KETCHUM
ROADSIDE REST—ARTHUR KETCHUM
OLD LIZETTE ON SLEEP—AGNES LEE
MOTHERHOOD—AGNES LEE
ESSEX—GEORGE CABOT LODGE
THE SONG OF THE WAVE—GEORGE CABOT LODGE
FRIMAIRE—AMY LOWELL
PATTERNS—AMY LOWELL
A BATHER—AMY LOWELL
LEPRECHAUNS AND CLURICAUNS—DENNIS A. MCCARTHY
L’ENVOI—DOROTHEA LAWRENCE MANN
TO IMAGINATION—DOROTHEA LAWRENCE MANN
DRAGON—JEANETTE MARKS
GREEN GOLDEN DOOR—JEANETTE MARKS
SLEEPY HOLLOW, CONCORD—JOHN CLAIR MINOT
THE SWORD OF ARTHUR—JOHN CLAIR MINOT
THE DIVINE FOREST—CHARLES R. MURPHY
MAGIC—EDWARD J. O’BRIEN
MICHAEL PAT—EDWARD J. O’BRIAN
SONG—EDWARD J. O’BRIAN
IN MEMORIAM: FRANCIS LEDWIDGE—NORREYS JEPHSON O’CONNOR
EVENSONG—NORREYS JEPHSON O’CONNOR
THE PROPHET—JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY
HARVEST-MOON: 1914—JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY
HORSEMAN SPRINGING FROM THE DARK: A DREAM—LILLA CABOT PERRY
THREE QUATRAINS—LILLA CABOT PERRY
A VALENTINE UNSENT—MARGARET PERRY
SHIPBUILDERS—ARTHUR STANWOOD PIER
UNFADING PICTURES—LOUELLA C. POOLE
WITH WAVES AND WINGS—CHARLOTTE PORTER
BLUEBERRIES—FRANK PRENTICE RAND
NOCTURNE—WILLIAM ROSCOIE THAYER
ENVOI—WILLIAM ROSCOE THAYER
THERE WHERE THE SEA—MARIE TUDOR
MARRIAGE—MARIE TUDOR
PITY—HAROLD VINAL
A ROSE TO THE LIVING—NIXON WATERMAN
THE STORM—G.O. WARREN
WHERE THEY SLEEP—G.O. WARREN
BEAUTY—G.O. WARREN
COMRADES—GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY
THE FLIGHT—GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY

HOME-BOUND

The moon is a wavering rim where one fish slips, The water makes a quietness of sound; Night is an anchoring of many ships Home-bound.

There are strange tunnelers in the dark, and whirs Of wings that die, and hairy spiders spin The silence into nets, and tenanters Move softly in.

I step on shadows riding through the grass, And feel the night lean cool against my face; And challenged by the sentinel of space, I pass.

JOSEPH AUSLANDER

AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL

O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain! America! America! God shed His grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for pilgrim feet, Those stern, impassioned stress A thoroughfare for freedom beat Across the wilderness! America! America! God mend thine every flaw, Confirm thy soul in self-control, Thy liberty in law!

O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife Who more than self their country loved, And mercy more than life! America! America! May God thy gold refine, Till all success be nobleness, And every gain divine.

O beautiful for patriot dream That sees beyond the years Thine alabaster cities gleam Undimmed by human tears! America! America! God shed His grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea!

KATHERINE LEE BATES

YELLOW CLOVER

Must I, who walk alone, come on it still, This Puck of plants The wise would do away with, The sunshine slants To play with, Our wee, gold-dusty flower, the yellow clover, Which once in Parting for a time That then seemed long, Ere time for you was over, We sealed our own? Do you remember yet, O Soul beyond the stars, Beyond the uttermost dim bars Of space, Dear Soul, who found earth sweet, Remember by love’s grace, In dreamy hushes of the heavenly song, How suddenly we halted in our climb, Lingering, reluctant, up that farthest hill, Stooped for the blossoms closest to our feet, And gave them as a token Each to Each, In lieu of speech, In lieu of words too grievous to be spoken, Those little, gypsy, wondering blossoms wet With a strange dew of tears?

So it began, This vagabond, unvalued yellow clover, To be our tenderest language. All the years It lent a new zest to the summer hours, As each of us went scheming to surprise The other with our homely, laureate flowers. Sonnets and odes Fringing our daily roads. Can amaranth and asphodel Bring merrier laughter to your eyes? Oh, if the Blest, in their serene abodes, Keep any wistful consciousness of earth, Not grandeurs, but the childish ways of love, Simplicities of mirth, Must follow them above With touches of vague homesickness that pass Like shadows of swift birds across the grass. Beneath some foreign arch of sky, How many a time the rover You or I, For life oft sundered look from look, And voice from voice, the transient dearth Schooling my soul to brook This distance that no messages may span, Would chance Upon our wilding by a lonely well, Or drowsy watermill, Or swaying to the chime of convent bell, Or where the nightingales of old romance With tragical contraltos fill Dim solitudes of infinite desire; And once I joyed to meet Our peasant gadabout A trespasser on trim, seigniorial seat, Twinkling a saucy eye As potentates paced by.

Our golden cord! our soft, pursuing flame From friendship’s altar fire! How proudly we would pluck and tame The dimpling clusters, mutinously gay! How swiftly they were sent Far, far away On journeys wide, By sea and continent, Green miles and blue leagues over, From each of us to each, That so our hearts might reach, And touch within the yellow clover, Love’s letter to be glad about Like sunshine when it came!

My sorrow asks no healing; it is love; Let love then make me brave To bear the keen hurts of This careless summertide, Ay, of our own poor flower, Changed with our fatal hour, For all its sunshine vanished when you died; Only white clover blossoms on your grave.

KATHERINE LEE BATES

THE RETURNING

We long for her, we yearn for her— Yes, ardently we yearn For her return. Recalling those beloved days (Days intimate with ways Of friends so near to us And life so dear to us), We yearn unspeakably for her return.

And come she must… Yet while we trust We soon may see the passing of this agony Which makes intrusive years still seem A fearsome dream, We know that when she comes She really comes not back again.

She’ll come in other guise And under fairer skies— And yet to bitter pain!

That day she went away Our homes with laughing youth were filled. Where then was happiness Is now distress, The laughter stilled; For when she left Youth followed her— We stay bereft.

So all our golden joy For what she brings Must carry gray alloy: The sorrow that she can not lay, The mysery that she can not stay— While all the gladsome songs she sings Must bear for undertones Old sighs and echoed moans.

As they who go away In flush of youth May come quite worn and gray And bringing naught but ruth— So, when the strife shall cease, And when she comes at last, When all the armies vast Shall at her feet Kneel down to greet Thrice welcome Peace, This world will be so changed (So many dear ones dead, So many friends estranged, So many blessings fled, So many wonted ways forever barred, So many coming days forever marred) That then She truly comes not back again— She, the Peace we knew.

Yet how we long for her! How ardently we yearn For her return!

SYLVESTER BAXTER

TWO MOODS FROM THE HILL

I.

YOUTH

I love to watch the world from here, for all The numberless living portraits that are drawn Upon the mind. Far over is the sea, Fronting the sand, a few great yellow dunes, A salt marsh stumbling after, rank and green, With brackish gullies wandering in between, All this from the hill. And more: a clump of dwarfed and twisted cedars, Sentinels over the marsh, and bright with the sun A field of daises wandering in the wind As though a hidden serpent glided through, A broken wall, a new-plowed field, and then The dusty road and the abodes of men Surrounding the hill. How small the enclosure is wherein there lives Each phase and passion of life, the distant sail Dips in the limpid bosom of the sea, From that far place to where in state the turf Raises a throne for me upon the hill, Each little love and lust of a living thing Can thus be compassed in a rainbow ring And seen from the hill.