Rushing from the mountains
The merry streamlets flow,
Dashing, laughing, sparkling
Upon the rocks below.
Downward, downward rushing,
Now quietly, now fast
Ever on until they reach
The deep blue sea at last.
The sound of the rain is beautiful
As it patters on the roof
And in the street.
The sound of the wind is beautiful
As it weirdly moans at night,
Whistling in the branches.
The sound of the waves is beautiful
As they drum unendingly
Against the shore.
All the sounds of nature are beautiful
As they come softly to me
Upon the wind.
Asail like white boats in the sky
The clouds, so fluffy, float,
And silver stars for anchor lie
Upon each little boat.
Many and many a day they sail,
Until they’re far away,
And they must brave the every gale
To get back here some day.
Upon their journeys strange and long
I wonder what they must see,
I wish the wind in mournful song
Would tell their tale to me.
I wish that someday I might go
Upon one small cloud boat,
And then I’d really, truly know
What happens while afloat.
The sun is a fiery apple
In the sky,
Floating in a tub of water
The clouds bob for the apple
Up so high,
And, catching, eat it, so
Its hid from view.
The stars are silver boats that sail
Upon the dark sky.
They sail around upon the waves
Of an ocean high.
The clouds are merry little waves
That make this choppy sea,
And were it not for them it would
All calm and quiet be.
The moon is flag-ship of the fleet,
And guides her star-boats near and far.
Proud is she of all her ships;
Proud of every star.
A fairy mans each little boat
That sails upon the foam.
God steers the moon that guides the stars
As far away they roam.
Other Pens 1929-1930
Other Pens 1929-1930
Guiding the traveler
On his weary way,
You stand forever like a sentinel
Guarding the corner;
Your light blazing brightly on a clear night.
Or filtering slowly through fog or twilight,
Or the soft mistOf an early dawn.
No, Pete, I didn’t sleep last night.
You ask why? Well you see,
A window shade was not pulled down,
And that shade bothered me.
I should have pulled it down, you say?
Well now, I’ll tell you, Pete.
My arm is not quite long enoughTo reach across the street.