You never know when war may come, And that is why I keep a drum: For if all sudden in the night From east or west came battle fright, And you were sound asleep in bed, And very soon to join the dead, You then would gladly wish my drum Would warn you that the war had come.

So that is why on afternoons I tell the neighborhood my tunes: Sometimes behind a fortress bench, Or where the hedges make a trench, I beat the drum with all my might, While people look with awful fright, Just as they would if war had come, And heard the warning of my drum.

They must be thankful, I am sure, Because they now may feel secure, And rest so safe and sound in bed, Without wild dreams of fearful dread; For now they hear me all the day, As round the yard I march and play, To let them know if war should come They'll get the warning of my drum.

II. THE SAILOR

A sailor that rides the ocean wave, And I in my room at home: Where are the seas I fear to brave, Or the lands I may not roam?

At the attic window I take my stand, And tighten the curtain sail, Then, ahoy! I ride the leagues of land, Whether in calm or gale.

Tree at anchor along the road Bow as I speed along; At sunny brooks in the valley I load Cargoes of blossom and song; Stories I take on the pa.s.sing wind From the plains and forest seas, And the Golden Fleece I yet will find, And the fruit of Hesperides.

Steady I keep my watchful eyes, As I range the thousand miles, Till evening tides in western skies Turn gold the cloudland isles; Then fast is the hatch and dark the screen, And I bring my cabin light; With a wink I change to a submarine And drop in the sea of Night.

WAR IN THE NORTH

Not from Mars and not from Thor Comes the war, the welcome war, Many months we waited for To free us from the bondage Of Winter's gloomy reign: Valor to our hope is bound, Songs of courage loud resound, Vowed is Spring to win her ground Through all our northern country, From Oregon to Maine.

All our loyal brave allies In the Southlands mobilize, Faith is sworn to our emprise, The scouting breezes whisper That help is sure today: Vanguards of the springtime rains Cannonade the hills and plains, Freeing them from Winter's chains, So birds and buds may flourish Around the throne of May.

Hark! and hear the clarion call Bluebirds give by fence and wall!

Look! The darts of sunlight fall, And red shields of the robins Ride boldly down the leas; Hail! The cherry banners shine, Onward comes the battle line,-- On! White dogwood waves the sign, And exile troops of blossoms Are sailing meadow seas.

Winter's tyrant king retires; Spring leads on her legion choirs Where the hedges sound their lyres; The victor hills and valleys Ring merrily the tune: April cohorts guard the way For the great enthroning day, When the Princess of May Shall wed within our northlands The charming Prince of June.

THE HAPPY TIME

Two gloomy scenes may be, Or count you three: A building hope all crushed at morn, A bridal day in clouds of rain, And night that keeps a mother's pain For tidings of a child forlorn.

Of happy times count more, Admit these four: A flower of promise rich with day, A son with victories that wear A halo on his mother's way: And friends whose hearts ring like a chime Across the world at Christmas time.

THE TIME OF TRUCE

Two young lads from childhood up Drank together friendship's cup: Joe was glad with Bill at play, Bill was home to Joe alway.

On their friendship came the blight Of a little thoughtless fight; Then, alas! each pa.s.sing day Farther bore these friends away.

There was grief in either heart, Bleeding deep from sorrow's dart, When in thoughtfulness again Each beheld the other's pain.

But the shades of night are furled When the morning takes the world, And the Christmas days of peace Make our little quarrels cease.

Bill and Joe on Christmas Day Met as in the olden way; Bill put out his hand to Joe,-- It was Christmas Day, you know.

Bill and Joe are friends again, And to them long years remain; Time may take them far away, They keep Christmas every day.

BETHLEHEM

O ye who sail Potomac's even tide To Vernon's shades, our Chieftain's hallowed mound; Or who at distant shrines high paeans sound In Alfred's cult, old England's morning pride; Or seek Versailles, conceited as a bride, With garish memories of kins strewn round; Or lay your spirit's cheek on Forum ground, For here a mighty Caesar lived and died: To these and other stones, O ye who speed, Since there, forsooth, a prince was pa.s.sing great, More zealous let your heart's adoring heed The Child most Royal in a crib's estate.

No poor so poor, no king more king than He: Come, better pilgrims, to this mystery.

A VOW-DAY FLOWER

(POVERTY, CHASt.i.tY, OBEDIENCE)

Three little leaves like shamrock, And the trefoil's love-lit eyes, Whether it takes the sunshine Or the shadows from the skies.

And richer than rose or lily Is the flower he wears today, With triune bloom and fragrance From earth to heaven alway.

Poverty is the low leaf, And one is chastely white, And the red love of obedience Goes up to G.o.d a light.

Grow, good flower, and keep him Who wears your bloom today, Shadow and sunshine bless him, And the trefoil's heavenward way.

THE TREE IN THE TENEMENT YARD

(For T. A. Daly)

America, Ireland and Italy, All have known this poor old tree.

A rickety fence goes round the yard And the noisy streets stand high: The gra.s.sless ground is brown and hard, And the cinder pathways, lined with shard, Sees but a bit of sky.