Ornaments of Verse

ORNAMENTS OF VERSE The Lonely Mother Where out of the household we've all moved away, And alone are the old folks at home. An old mother waits through the long silent day, Still thinking of us where we roam. To her we are children her longings restore, As her memories bring us anear, And she listens all day for our steps at the door That now she so seldom can hear. In tender endearments each child that she nursed Is often a babe at her breast, And she fondles again, in her fancies immersed, Each little one calmly to rest. She croons the old songs of her earlier years, Sees a cradle she moves to and fro, And in reminiscence her eyes fill with tears While thinking, of that long ago. The girls and the boys that from hearthstones depart, That mother at home holds so dear, The image of every child of her heart Is brought to her memory clear; The pictures of incidents, where as their guide She taught with a mother's caress, The little heart-prayer, — that the Lord would provide, The faith that he ever would bless. O Mother! the love thou hast given so free Yet lingers in their loving hearts, In fondest remembrance still thinking of thee As daily some thought it imparts. We love thee, as ever thy name we revere, We pray that kind heaven above Reward thee forever, for earth has no cheer So precious as motherly love. Los Angeles, Calif. JOSEPH LONGKING TOWNSEND. A Tribute (President Thomas P. Cottam, of the St. George Temple, Died March 16, 1926.) 0 could I speak today for all Whose tears are flowing silently, The words I'd give to comfort you Would consolation bring to me. 1 know the sorrow that is mine Is echoing within each heart, For he has grown so dear to us, It grieves us that we now must part.

ORNAMENTS OF VERSE 737 But I'll not sing a somber dirge For him who lies before us here, Nor shall I need, I'm sure, to urge That we must keep his memory dear. For unto each of us his life Has been a living, glowing truth, A blessed comfort to the aged, A golden lesson to the youth. The precepts which his Father taught. Abided with him day by day; He lived in honesty, because His conscience knew no other way. His gentle answer often came To turn the floods of wrath aside; His code of life allowed no lapse From right, whatever might betide. The Master's words, "Love thou thy God With all thy mind and strength and heart," And "Love thy neighbor as thyself" - Were of his daily life a part. He loved his family and his home, And gave his life to give them joy, Now, grateful to his bier they come, His good wife and each girl and boy. His labors both for Church and State Have all been well and wisely done, And gladly would we emulate The splendid course his life has run. For he who rules in gentleness, And leads, instead of forces men, Shall live, though lost to mortal view, And we shall some day meet again. May God accept our tears, and bless His memory to our daily good ; Giving us strength through each distress To walk uprightly as we should; That when the destined hour shall come, And we must Life's conclusion see, We, too, may find a welcome home, Bearing our cross triumphantly. St. George, Utah. MABEL JARVIS. The Past and Present The sun had driven the lizzard panting to a shadscale turf; The ground gaped wide the agony of a parched and scorching earth; Cursed were' the grass and the flowers, cursed of the iron rod: A curse that yielded the desert bare. Cursed to a purpose of God. Dry, hard, and baked, her claims unstaked, But for the challenging rattlesnake, Coiled marshal of her sod.

738 IMI'ROMEMENT ERA The blast had driven the snowbird to her haunts of powdered white. The frost li.nl painted the sagebrush with its magic over night. F:rom the frozen peaks the chilled wind clutched her talons in the snow, And drove the sifted swirling while to the plains far below. Yet whistled and screamed in mad delight. And left 10 the frost for another night; A strangely picturesque sort of sight. With naught but God to know. The monarch of the western plain, the dusky Lamanite. Laughed, and jested the northwind. and jerred at the tempest's might. Conquered the season's harshness, wooed nature's love — and more, Feared not the transient buffalo, nor the briny salt sea's shore. ! ived and died by her salty edge. Lived for the desert more than the ledge, Cho-e the sagebrush for his wigwam's hedge, And wanted not for more. * * * Cone row are the looms of the legend, vanished the dead with the past. Gone is the chant of the warrior; buried the hatchet — at last. Conquered the sage and the shadscale. Crushed is the rattlesnake's head. Spoiled are the haunts of the coyote. A city in their stead, with the salt sea's name. The desert tamed ; The mountains and seasons still the same as in the days of her dead. Little Rock, Ark. O. WOODRUFF BUNKER. Summer Melodies O melodies, simple and sweet, Tinkling chimes' blown by the winds From the heart of bright Summer's retreat. Fresh from the full-throated birds and the tees, Babbling brooks and murmuring trees, Linger, O songs of mid-Summer. O melodies, rippling clear, Strewn through the vales and sunny dales, Full laden with memories dear — ■ Laden with thoughts from the Past's golden hours, Mixed with the dew and the fragrance of flowers, Stay ever, sweet songs of mid-Summer. Sing on, you warblers of rapture, Sing the old songs, the melody throngs To the hearts of Dame Nature's admirers. Let harmony swell over river and dell, And throb to the rhythm of the wild heart's knell, At the joyous call of the Summer. O melodies, greater than all, Chiming within above Life's din, The wondering Soul's silent call. Be thou ever enraptured with song, Music of heart and twittering throng, Happily singing in mid-Summer. Ezra J. Poulson.

ORNAMENTS OF VERSE 73 9 The Call of the Hour The hour is calling for men of deeds, For men with vision of life and its needs, For men of courage, undaunted by fears, For men who can wait a reward for years, For men who will work, and while they work pray. For men of wisdom, who can lead the way, For men who will live their message of truth, And with that message fire onward the youth. The problems of life grow bigger each day, A civilization wends onward her way; The snares are confounding, the temptations keen, The pitfalls covered, and often unseen; Men are anxious, as ever, to follow the right, And fight against error with vigor and might, But leaders are needed, God-fearing and true, To marshal the forces, to vict'ry fight through. Dixie College, St. George, Utah. H. L. R.EID. Twilight When the blue sky fades to twilight And the shadows gently fall, Then the haziness of evening Softly stealing over all Brings me memories and longings For the happy days of home, There at evening by the firelight I am longing now to come. Let me come and find the kiddies Romping wildly everywhere, Faces beaming, eyes a-twinkle, Let me come and find them there. In their fairyland they're playing, Happy days without a sigh, The gay music of their laughter Sends its echoes to the sky. When they hear my footsteps falling, And they know that I am near, There's a rush to meet their daddy, And they greet me with a cheer. Then they cover me with kisses And caresses where I stand; There is not another daddy Half so proud in all the land. Let me come to this dear haven Where I lay my cares aside, In the lovely hour of twilight Let me come and there abide. Mt. Pleasant, Utah. ALBERTA L. JACOBS.

740 IMPROMEMENT ERA The Glorious Summer-Time When Winter's gone and Spring has opened wide the gates of joy. And we behold the armies of the fuller blooms deploy, The vista of enchantment takes my vision as by force, Though I'm a willing captive led along the flowery course; The sunshine, warm and welcome, lighting up the pleasant ways That lead to greater glory with the lengthening of the days, Gives spirit to the song-birds and forcefulness to rhyme, To ring like bells in honor of the glorious Summer-time. The herds down in the pastures and the flocks upon the hills, Drink in the joy of living with the water of the( rills, Unconscious of the How? or Why? unheeding of the Where? So long as there is food and drink their Paradise is there. Thus I am taught a lesson of contentment as I gaze Across the fields and watch the roving cattle quietly graze, And while the natural sunlight gilds the hillside as I climb. I feast with pleasure on the glorious Summer-time. No fault is there in Nature; if there's any, 'tis in me, When treasures lying all around sometimes I fail to see The grandeur of the mountain height, the rushing water-fall, The green reposeful valleys, which for admiration call; Salt Lake, which in its loveliness, so cooling to the eye, Reflects the deep blue splendor of the ever wondrous sky; The rich, exuberant foliage in the glory of its prime — > Are some of Nature's drawings of the glorious Summer-time. Fair Summer, Queen of Beauty, smiling pretty in your pride, Delighting weary mortals, as they seek the country-side; I could not well appraise the charm you've thrown about my heart At fitting value, were I ultra-brilliant at the art. The calm, delicious feeling which I breathe in with the air So fills my keen, receptive soul that not a thought of care Can find, or hope for, entrance to disturb the joy sublime That makes this world a heaven in the glorious Summer-time! Henry Nichol Adamson. Riches If I were rich, I'd dress in silks And satins, broadcloth, too, In tints of gold and every hue. And with my wealth I'd buy Everything my heart desires. I'd travel far in every land, 'Till ever language I'd command. I'd buy a home, not a humble cot, But a mansion would I spot. I'd furnish it in wealth of art, Gay tapestries from foreign lands import, And within that home I'd bring, Rare books to read, sweet songs to sing, And there I'd reign supreme.

ORNAMENTS OF VERSE 741 But, could I purchase happiness, Or love of God, to bless My life and fill with sweet Contentment, joy and peace? I fear my gold would have no power To purchase joy from every hour; Or buy the love of friends That brings me sweet content. Then, with my gold and satins, My mansion and my lattens, I'd be the poorest soul of all The earth, without the love of God. " Logan, Utah BEATRICE E. COOPER Optimism Does some fellow seem to hate you, And with his jeers berate you, Till your feelings 'most inflate you? Pause! Don't let your anger rile, But tighten up your grip, the while, And just send him back a smile! O well, I know you'd rather fight, That would be supreme delight, Yes; but it wouldn't make it right. You don't need to call his bluff, Although you know you've had enough, Smile and bear it — don't be rough! Just straighten up and sort o' grin 'Bout the trouble you are in, And never care a rusty pin. Learn to trust your fellow man, And then respect him, if you can, Though a checkered life you scan! Now remember, as you reflect, You are not the Lord's elect! And only due a just respect. You might save yourself a fall, By weighing well the chances all, And listening to wisdom's call. You be a man — the man you seem — Making life with service teem, And you will find life is no dream, But a paying dividend, Enriching you unto the end, And the Lord will be your friend! Phoenix, Arizona M. A. STEWART.

742 IMPROMEMENT ERA Twilight The soft Summer breeze embraces the perfumed rose garden. A deep silence reigns, and the very flowers hold their breath. Now and then the emerald leaves rustic faintly as a tiny breeze dances by. The profound silence is broken by songs of the cicadas. The air becomes cool and calm with mystery. A pale curve of the moon slowly rises above the tree tops, and a shy star blinks at the lengthening shadows flickering over the roses. A drowsy bird chirps a tender lullaby, and the grey dove coos his serenade. The roses gently sigh as a sheen of glimmering dew envelopes the garden. Leona Rasmussen. True Friends True friends on this earth Bring you laughter and mirth; Drive the frowns and the tears from your face. They are sure to be near When you're needing some cheer; If it's doubtful you'll win in the race. Some friends may be fair And selected with care; But the ones who will always score, Are the friends who will stay Though you lose in the fray, They're the ones whom you'll love and adore. True friends are jewels; So don't use them for tools For each whim, and each mood, that you're in. If you want them to last You must hold to them fast,- By being the friend that they've been. Midvale, Utah. LAURA BATEMAN. Give Yourself You may sing of the new Jerusalem. And believe in the world to be. You may dream your visions and cling to them, Through the realms of eternity, You may pledge to the creeds that men devise, Or the code of your Deity, You may build your temples to reach the skies, And tread in their sanctity, You may pray your prayers at the altar flame. But an atheist still arc you, Till you give yourself to the faith you claim. And let all the rest come true! Mesa, Arizona. BERTHA A. KLEINMAN.

ORNAMENTS OF VERSE 743 Again We Rest Again we rest — -'tis eventide, Did we bestow the best we had The day has fled and gone, Upon our work today? The worries of the day are o'er If so, then we have made our goal, And this day's work is done. And great will be our pay. Has service been our utmost aim This day has brought us joy or grief. Throughout our daily task? Which? We, ourselves know best. Did we respond when duty called? They leave their mark upon us when This, we ourselves should ask. We settle down to rest. Provo, Utah. C. H. DURRANT. Of Birthdays Sun, why do you hurry? Why do you clear at one mad bound The frail, sweet mist; And, bursting once in shouting radiance, Route out the lingering muses of the night? Why do you scud and slither up your path So easily and so cruelly? Oh, dumb, relentless sun, Is it I who goad you? I would fight you, hold you — ■ Tie you with sullen weights — dream-wrought and terrible. Oh, grant me but a little moment still, Before you lash your noon light on the world: Before you totter for that awful leap That flingq you from the zenith, leaving night — But stav: your brassy breath is fading now! Oh, blind sun, dazzkd by your own thin light! See now already how you call up little shadows — Blue and low, but feeling — gathering. They frighten me, they whisper as they creep; Sweet Sun, be kind and spare us but an hour. The air is purple now the wind is waiting A long sigh from the west. Forgive me. Sun, I did forget the glory of thy setting! Hugh Nibley. A Recipe We know that we must train ourselves In ways of being true, If happiness would be our lot For what we're living through; For happiness comes only by Fulfilment of one's duty. With, just to match, a little bit Of romance, fua and beauty. Huntington, Utah LAMONT JOHNSON