Chapter I: Preface

To you, my gentle reader, I wish to say a foreword of warning before you peruse the contents of this book. I am not a poet nor a scholar, therefore you shall find neither poems nor prose. Just dreams--_Day Dreams_--a bit of romance, a bit of sentimentalism, a bit of philosophy, not studied, but acquired by constant observation of that greatest of masters!... _Nature!_

While lying idle, not through choice, but because forcibly kept from my preferred and actual field of activity, I took to dreams to forget the tediousness of worldly strife and the boredom of jurisprudence’s pedantic etiquette.

Happy indeed I shall be if my _Day Dreams_ will bring you as much enjoyment in the reading as they brought to me in the writing.

_Rudolph Valentino_

_New York--May 29th, 1923._

CONTENTS

PAGE

THE GIFT BOOK 1

NATURE 3

THE LOVE CHILD 5

HEART FLOWER 9

YOU 11

DAY DREAMS 15

SUSPICION 17

THE SAGE 19

MORPHIA 21

DOMINO 23

THE SPHINX 25

STRADIVARIUS 27

EXTRAVAGANZA 29

MIRAGE 31

GLORIFICATION 33

REMEMBRANCE 35

THREE GENERATIONS OF KISSES 37

A BABY’S SKIN 39

GRATITUDE 41

SHADOWS 43

ACCUSATION 45

EVEN SONG 47

GYPSIES 49

THE CARRIER 53

THE SCHOOL OF LIFE 55

THE WANTON 57

SLAVERY 59

WITHIN A WALL 61

THE CHALICE 63

SOLICITUDE 65

YOU 67

AT SUNRISE TOMORROW 69

POVERTY 71

CREMATION 73

THE LUTE 77

POWERLESS 79

CAP AND BELLS 83

PATCHWORK QUILT 85

TO A. M. 87

THE PHILOSOPHY OF A PESSIMIST 89

GEMS OF THOUGHT 91

TO C. F. 93

SYMPATHY 95

LABOR 99

WEALTH 101

UNDERSTANDING 103

HUNGER 105

MONEY 107

THE CHOICE 109

ITALY 111

ERIN 113

BEES 115

TO M. T. 117

IMPERIALISM 119

RADIO 121

THE KALEIDOSCOPE OF LOVE 123

MEMORIAL 125

DUST TO DUST 127

LULLABY TREE 129

ADAGE 131

FAITHFULNESS 133

REFLECTIONS AT RANDOM 135

COOPERATION 143

DAY DREAMS

THE GIFT BOOK

(To J. R.)

A book is a kindly gracious thing.
Each has a particular gift to bring.

It may be the wealth
Of a wonderful life,
Or the thrilling adventure
Of Jungle strife.
Perhaps it’s a present
Of orient gold,
Tales of Aladdin
Enchantingly told.
Maybe a view
Of olden days,
Knighthood--Romance,
Flowery ways.
And again a journey
To lands afar,
Where strange things happen,
And wonders are.

All of them--Gift books
But plainly I see,
Not one of them holds
The gift for me.
I want a book
That will lazily roam
Down the dear Pathway
To Folks back home.

NATURE

Nature is the open book
Wherein the truths of the world are found
Nature is an endless story
Of never changing glory
When you study nature your teacher is God
So always let your reference be
This Greatest of Masters.

THE LOVE CHILD

(To B.)

Don Juan roamed the summer sky
A shady cloud of gray
But this dull attire
Hid a heart of fire
In quest of romance stray.

Vision

A lovely golden sunbeam
Shining from above
Came radiant by
And caught the eye
Of this vagabond of love.

Delusion

In wild tempestuous wooing
He kissed her heart away
All in a jest
It was the quest
Of the cloud on a summer’s day.

Conclusion

Through tears the sunbeam glimmered
Then happily she smiled
The tempest passed
Alone at last
With a little rainbow child.

Dawn runs in a crimson streak
Across a leaden sky--
Just like a pulsing vein of life
An artery of love not strife
And it livens the heavens high.

So in our sky today it seems,
No sign of life we see.
Do we not know,
Night’s bound to go,
Dawn follows instantly.

If it were not for the showers, where
would the rainbows be?

HEART FLOWER

O lovely rose
Within whose chalice lies
The heart of my true love,
Did not the gods in benediction stoop
To bless thee from above?
And place within thy roseate lips
The rubies counterpart.
I found it there
A jewel rare
The flower of thy heart.

YOU

Your Eyes

Your Eyes,
Mystic pools
Of beauteous light.
Golden brown
In color
Deep,
Yet, amber clear.
Unshadowed
By a frown,
Fathomless,
Wherein
My senses
Drown.
Your Eyes.

Your Lips

Your Lips,
Twin silken petals
Of a dewy rose.
Altar
Of the heart
Where love
Kindling desire
Worships unafraid.
Crucible
Of
Passion.
The rose in masquerade.
Your Lips.

Your Kiss

Your Kiss,
A flame
Of Passion’s fire
The sensitive Seal
Of Love
In the desire,
The fragrance
Of your Caress;
Alas,
At times
I find
Exquisite bitterness
In
Your Kiss.

DAY DREAMS

(To The Friend)

_Yesterday_--in contemplation
We dreamed of love to be,
And in the dreaming,
Wove a tapestry of Love.

_Today_--We dream our dream awake;
Realization,
Coloring our Romance
With all the glory
Of a flaming Rose.

_Tomorrow_--What awakening lies before us:
Our tapestry
In shreds perchance,
Or mellowed--glorified
By love’s reflection?
I wonder--

SUSPICION

There crossed the path
Of my dream of you
A gossamer web of gray,
So soft its sheen,
Almost unseen,
But it stopped me
On my way.

Like a cold, gray granite battlement
It walled me all about,
For a cruel steel,
Was in the feel
Of the silken web of doubt.

THE SAGE

(To M.)

O Gladness shining bravely
From out the eyes of youth,
Be strong in your belief of good,
Of valor and of truth.
For soon enough,
Too soon enough--
The gladdest light meets doubt,
Then flickers, flutters, just a bit,
But, doesn’t quite go out.

O Sadness peering divinely
From out the eyes of age,
Be strong in your belief of good.
To youth--still be the sage.
For soon enough,
Too soon enough,
The saddest light in doubt,
Flickers, flutters, flickers,
And finally goes out.

MORPHIA

I am The Ingrate Morphia,
You hold the brimming cup of your Life
To me, athirst am I,
And drink my fill
Of strength, until
The cup is drained dry.

Then, satisfied, I care no more.
The cup, I cast away,
Crunch ’neath my heel.
Its doom I seal,
As I walk on my way.

DOMINO

Passion’s cloak,
An ashy thing to wear,
Covering the shroud of love
That once was fair.

What gruesome imagery
Does this convey to me.
Grim death--itself no ghastlier a thing than this
Could ever be.

THE SPHINX

(To B. H.)

O Sphinx--a monument to man!
Built by his hands of clay,
You symbolize the power of might
Used in an earthy way.
Yesteryear, you stood for man’s symbolic strength sublime,
Today, you all but buried are
Beneath the sands of time.

O Wondrous mountain--living Sphinx!
Built by the hand of God,
You symbolize the power of Love
Used with the lowly sod.
Yesteryear, a symbol of divinity sublime,
Today, you lift your rugged head
Untouched by hands of time.

O Sphinx--a monument to man!
Built by his hand of clay,
You symbolize the power of might
Used in an earthy way.
Yesterday, you in grandeur stood alone.
Today, you’re mingling with the sand
A rotting mass of stone.

O Wondrous mountain--living Sphinx!
Built by the hand of God,
You symbolize the power of Love
Used with the lowly sod,
E’er yesterday, you stood a monument of Love,
Today unchanged, your glorious face,
In worship turned above.

STRADIVARIUS

(To Jascha Heifetz)

If power were only given me,
To paint the tone picture that arises from the soul
Of that sanctuary of sound--your violin,
Where would I find pigment worthy of such a use,
Save in the fleeting splendour of some sky.
Where a brush--save in a snowy feather
From the shining wing of an archangel.
Where the canvas--save across the dream memory of one who heard
And was blessed by the hearing.

EXTRAVAGANZA

Extravaganza! The very word is vulgar. Still vulgarity is necessary to development, for even a weed growing in a swamp can sometimes be cultivated into a hot house plant. Take an orchid not under its own surroundings, but dress it by putting it in a proper receptacle, and what a difference! But, outside of beauty what have you? If we could only combine the beauty of an orchid with the soul of a weed we would get an improvement in the orchid, for real weeds are grateful enough to spring up between cobblestones, even to be trampled upon.

Rather be a blade of grass that knows the heart beats of Mother Earth, than the potted plant which is pampered and only restored to a semblance of life.

MIRAGE

Happiness--you wait for us
Just beyond,
Just beyond.

We know not where,
Nor how we shall find you.
We only know you are
Waiting, waiting,
Just beyond.

GLORIFICATION

(To W. W.)

The arms of the earth broke through the sod
And clenched his fist in derision,
For clay knows not the might of God,
It has but earthy vision.

The finger of God wrote in the sky
A sign of mighty fire:
“Reach up to me for I am Life”
But earth could reach no higher.

With strength of muscle, with might and main,
Earth struggled and then defied,
But God stretched forth His hand of Love
And Earth was glorified.

REMEMBRANCE

(To M. O.)

An infant memory,
A tiny fragile thing,
Called into being
By the brush of a colored wing
Across the canvas
Of my tired mind.
It grows,
A lovely picture of the past
I find,
You! Grown to fullest stature
Of the perfect soul,
The tiny sheltered memory
Has reached at last
Its goal.

THREE GENERATIONS OF KISSES

(To M. K.)

A Mother’s kisses
Are blessed with love
Straight from the heart
Of Heaven above.
Love’s Benediction,
Her dear caress,
The sum of all our happiness.

Till we kiss the lips
Of the mate of our soul
We never know Love
Has reached its goal.
Caress divine,
You reign until
A baby’s kiss seems sweeter still.

That beloved blossom
A baby’s face
Seems to be
Love’s resting place.
And a million kisses
Tenderly
Linger there in ecstacy.

Were I told to select
Just one kiss a day;
Oh! What a puzzle
I would say.
Still a baby’s kiss
I’d choose, you see,
For in that wise choice
I’d gain ALL Three.

A BABY’S SKIN

Texture of a butterfly’s wing,
Colored like a dawned rose,
Whose perfume is the breath of God.
Such is the web wherein is held
The treasure of the treasure chest
The priceless gift--the Child of Love.

GRATITUDE

(To A. T.)

The oleander blooms for me,
In dawning splendrous beauty,
I planted it so tenderly,
And love has done its duty.

All in a garden of the earth,
All in a plot of ground,
Wherein I found no bit of worth,
The seed I planted in the ground.

O Tiny seed almost unworthy
To be cherished for thy looks,
But deep within the heart of you
Was wisdom never found in books.

You are the spirit of the good,
The joy, the beauty of all things,
You are the melody of life--the song
That Mother Nature sings.

And so to that sweet lullaby
You, in your perfumed cradle, rest
Safe in the arms of Mother Earth,
Held closely to her loving breast.

Until one happy wondrous day
When love so tenderly drew nigh,
Lifted your tiny hand of green
And turned your face toward the sky.

The oleander blooms for me,
In dawning splendrous beauty,
I planted it so tenderly
And love has done its duty.

SHADOWS

Shadows--gray symbol of a broken faith.
We cling to hope--in hope we find
The symbol of a broken heart.
Shadows--gray bleak gossamer web
Of what once was woven ’round my heart.
We slink within thy domain--the land of shadows.
For still we hope.
But knowing always, that a broken faith can never be restored
To more than it was--a Shadow.

ACCUSATION

Out of a shadowed corner
Comes a phantom of the past,
To confuse me
And accuse me
For a vain iconoclast.
To chide me
And deride me
In a seething scornful blast.
To cheat me
And defeat me,
Conscience, crucifies at last.

EVEN SONG

I sing a song to the sapphire sky
That curtains a sleeping earth.
I sing a song to the stars on high
That mark a jewel’s worth.

My feeble voice, so weak it sounds,
A puny earthy cry,
Yet when its echo comes to me,
Angelic voice in harmony,
I know it is not I.

It was belief that gave it wing,
That weakling voice of mine,
And carried it where angels sing
God’s Melody Divine.

GYPSIES

(To R. B.)

Little gypsies of the city,
Little sparrows--more’s the pity,
Homeless, heedless of the weather,
Happy, banding all together,
Never giving thought to trouble,
Never seeing evil double,
Would that we who proudly mention
Every honorable intention
To the world with trumpet blaring,
Could, like sparrows, take uncaring
All the little earthly struggles,
Cast them gypsy-like aside
And fly happily, and gladly
All about earth’s countryside.

Why do the birds chant the psalm of glory?

Only because they alone are free throated and unafraid. Do they realize the danger in the sling-shot of civilization? No--they are only conscious of the Joy within.

Why sing of Joy--
If Joy is to be unheard.
Why sing of Faith,
If Faith is to be barred.
For all that is good
Is forever alive,
And all that is bad
Is dead before it be born.

THE CARRIER

(To J. K.)

A poor little messenger clad in gray,
Sent as a go-between--they say.
Took a betrayal under its wing
And guarded and cherished the slimy thing.

We speak of Glory, and Trust, and Men,
But that is all forgotten when
We send this softly feathered bird
With messages best left unheard.

Oh! What a mockery ’cross the sky
The dove is sent to act as spy.

THE SCHOOL OF LIFE

(To M)

Lives are classes--we are pupils with excellent teachers. Experience should tutor us, but we so often shirk school. School can be made happy and we delight in making a higher grade--but through not heeding Experience’s teaching we often are left back in the old class, and sometimes, sad to relate, are put several grades lower.

But, happily, there is always the opportunity of skipping many grades upward. It’s a poor rule that doesn’t work both ways.

The Mind is the Grade we work in. We can have majestic thoughts, living in a hermit’s hut, or we can think as a swine in a palace on a throne of gold--let us choose our station--kingly children, or swineherds. Eternity is the Empire.

THE WANTON

To love, save that which mockery was,
No heart, save that of stone.
A multitude forever hers,
Alas--not one--alone!

Cradled in the arms of many,
Not where to lay her weary head.
Fortune smiled--held out her hand
And struck the wanton dead.

SLAVERY

(To E. A. P.)

Love
I am a slave,
Yet free as birds above,
Sold into bondage
By the tender kiss of love.

Lust
I am a slave
In the rat trap of disgust,
Sold into bondage
By the lurid kiss of lust.

Hate
I am a slave
Prisoned by the walls of fate,
Sold into bondage
By the cruel kiss of hate.

Crime
I am a slave
Behind the bars of time,
Sold into bondage
By the leprous kiss of crime.

Death
I am a slave
No longer in my breath,
Given sight of freedom
Through the graciousness of death.

Still am I a slave
In the hand of destiny,
Thought alone enslaved me
And thought alone can free.

WITHIN A WALL

Once in a time when skies were gray
I chanced to walk in a cloistered way,
I saw the ones who closed the door
On all the world had spread before.
Their eyes--that were closed to the joy of good,
They thought the God’s law they understood.
O Pity, Pity, for such as they
Who only look on skies of gray,
From cloistered windows sad of eye,
When all about is glorious sky.
It was but the tiny patch of gray,
The shadowed thing that happened to play
Behind the back of the glorious earth.
Alas, they thought it was all the worth
Of the whole wide world, the glorious world.
But the folded wings were not unfurled
And closed to use they lost the call,
And so they lost to them their all.

THE CHALICE

(To E. H.)

The chalice of a lily cup
Is indeed the sacrament
That Mother Nature uses
When she communes with God.

SOLICITUDE

On the sands of a happy shore,
Walked two lovers, hand in hand,
Leaving all that’s gone before.
They mark each footstep in the sand,
Knowing well that every foot print
Will be trod by their own blood,
Therefore, let each couple ponder
O’er their footsteps
For future good.

(To D. K.)

Man is the word of the story,
Woman is the inspiration,
God is the book that binds,
None other can be what is now the finished book.

YOU

You are the History of Love and its Justification.
The Symbol of Devotion.
The Blessedness of Womanhood.
The Incentive of Chivalry.
The Reality of Ideals.
The Verity of Joy.
Idolatry’s Defense.
The Proof of Goodness.
The Power of Gentleness.
Beauty’s Acknowledgment.
Vanity’s Excuse.
The Promise of Truth.
The Melody of Life.
The Caress of Romance.
The Dream of Desire.
The Sympathy of Understanding.
My Heart’s Home.
The Proof of Faith.
Sanctuary of my Soul.
My Belief of Heaven.
Eternity of all Happiness.
My Prayers.
You.

AT SUNRISE TOMORROW

(To E. B.)

O Love, when you leave me do not say:
“Tomorrow we meet at twilight”
For that is the time of the darkening hour,
The ending of the day.
All is glowing, gleaming in our love,
All is pulsing, breathing in the light
Of understanding--it is not symbolic of twilight,
Nor yet of dawning, for it has reached the zenith of love’s day.
So when you leave me, dearest, do not say:
“Tomorrow we meet at twilight.”
Rather, beloved of my heart,
“We meet at sunshine tomorrow.”

POVERTY

Possessing the jewels of the earth,
Holding within my grasp the sceptre of the universe,
All these would but make me more the pauper--
Were I beggared of your love.

CREMATION

(To G. S.)