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Katharine Lee Bates

Northward

THESE palms weave shadows of delight,
But the truant heart flies forth
To birch-boles glistening more than white
In the forests of the North.

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Pigeon Post

White wing, white wing,
Lily of the air,
What word dost bring,
On whose errand fare?

Red word, red word,
Snowy plumes abhor.
I, Christ's own bird,
Do the work of war.

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The Least Of These

THE wolf of want is howling
At doors no angel keeps.
Young Mary smiled on her Holy Child,
But many a mother weeps.
The Kings of the East brought treasures
Uncounted and unpriced.
Who bears a gift to arms that lift
A little famished Christ?

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Waywise

THE darkest wood that the north-wind stings
Hath its balsamum and its silverlings,
Its violet interspace.
The bitterest sea that the wan moon knows
Hath its hushful archipelagoes,
Its coral populace.
And the wearlweariestest burden mortal bears
Hath, woven in with its somber cares,
Some broidery of grace.

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Mother

'MOTHER! Mother!' he called as he fell
In the horror there
Of a bursting shell
That strewed red flesh on the air.
Far away over sea and land:
The knitting dropt
From an old white hand,
And a heart for an instant stopt.
But it was Death, dark mother and wise,
All-tenderest,
Who kissed his eyes
And gathered him to her breast.

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To Peace

THE cup, the ruby cup
Whence anguish drips,
At last is lifted up
Against our lips.
Though we, till seas run dry,
Your lovers are,
How can we put it by,
Red cup of war?
We champion your task;
Your wounds we bind;
Behind the battle mask
Our eyes are kind.
Upon this foaming edge
Of blood and flame,
With shuddering lips we pledge
Your name.

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NIght And Morning

THE night was loud with tumult; trees were torn
Sheer from their roots by the delirious wind;
In some waste dreamland wandered all forlorn
A smitten soul, bewildered, broken, blind.
The mists had lifted; evanescent gleams
Of tender emerald lighted every leaf,
While from a casement smiled, escaped from dreams,
A quiet face made exquisite by grief.

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The Creed Of The Wood

A WHIFF of forest scent,
Balsam and fern,
Won from dreary mood
My heart's return,
From its discontent,
Joy's run-away,
To the sweet, wise wood
And the laughing day.
Simple as dew and gleam
Is the creed of the wood!
The Beautiful gave us life,
And life is good.
Be the world but a dream,
Let the world go shod
With peace, not strife,
For the Dreamer is God.

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England to America

And what of thee, O Lincoln's Land? What gloom
Is darkening above the Sunset Sea?
Vowed Champion of Liberty, deplume
Thy war-crest, bow thy knee,
Before God answer thee.

What talk is thine of rebels? Didst thou turn,
My very child, thy vaunted sword on me,
To scoff to-day at patriot fires that burn
In hearts unbound to thee,
Flames of the Sunset Sea?

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Fodder for Cannon

Bodies glad, erect,
Beautiful with youth,
Life's elect,
Nature's truth,
Marching host on host,
Those bright, unblemished ones,
Manhood's boast,
Feed them to the guns.

Hearts and brains that teem
With blessing for the race,
Thought and dream,
Vision, grace,
Oh, love's best and most,
Bridegrooms, brothers, sons,
Host on host
Feed them to the guns.

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