Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1913-29 and Yearbook of American Poetry

 
9781459078352: Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1913-29 and Yearbook of American Poetry

This historic book may have numerous typos or missing text. Not indexed. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. 1915. Not illustrated. Excerpt: ... Sometime, at the last, she and I, To the heaven He keeps for all tired souls, The quiet suburban gardens Where He Himself walks in the evening Beneath the rose-dropping sky, And watches the balancing elm-trees With a sob of delight for their beauty, And hears through their lofty arches The night breeze ruffle by. The Smart Set Odell Shepard SUN-BROWNED WITH TOIL Sun-browned and worn with toil, he leaned awhile On his bright spade, and looked into the West. His eyes were soft with thought. St. Francis came, Noiseless, and stood beside, then gently said: "Brother, what seest thou?" Deep he drew breath Of long contentment. "When yon evening light Touches my cottage roof-tree--lo, see there How flames the thatch beneath the glowing rays--I love to look across the reddened world And thank my God, Who keeps me; love to muse And through the circling hours and changing years, As days tread slow on days, He works for me. I see yon shaggy hillside, grown with vines; His own all-sedulous Hand doth mold each bud And twine each tendril round its destined stay. How soft the pastures roll! He greens them o'er With countless grass tips, each His utter care, As are the swinging stars. The chestnuts spread Wide-armed and dark--He builds their buttressed limbs Against the storm, and when they groan and sway They call to Him for succor. And the birds! How far and free they ride the weightless air, And fall and soar and circle--ah, they feel In swiftest onrush of their dizzy flight His Hand beneath them. And yon waving wheat That ripples all its shining blades with joy Beneath the summer's winds--He bids it grow, It, and the clustered vines, to furnish forth His Holy Table! So mine evening thoughts Run on and on, thus mingled; all the world Speaking of God, my Lord, and when t...

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