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Read Ebook: Katydid's Poems by McKinney Kate Slaughter
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Ebook has 635 lines and 43266 words, and 13 pages
PAGE. To A Katydid 7 A Day Dream 9 The Old Ravine 11 Some Day You'll Wish For Me 12 To Hallie 13 I've Asked You to Forget Me 14 Little Blanche 15 The Little Front Gate 16 Drifting 16 Looking Back 17 Scotta 18 The Lover and Flower 20 My Cloud 22 The Decision 23 Autumn 25 A Sister's Love 26 In Memory of Nannie Johnson White 26 The Heliotrope's Soliloquy 27 A Problem 28 My Palace 29 Death of Summer 33 Spring and Summer 34 Under the Snow 35 The Prettiest Girl in Town 36 I Am Musing To-night 37 A Curl 38 Somebody's Face 39 Good-bye, Maggie 40 The Hermit's Farewell 41 A Window I Love 43 Thistle Down 44 Bitter Memories 45 An Acrostic 46 My Angel Visitor 47 Keep a Bright Face, Darling 48 My Neighbor's Mill 49 Dripping Springs 51 In Memoriam 53 The Old Orchard Trees 54 On the Hill-top Grow the Daisies 55 Ella Lee 56 What is the West Wind Saying 58 To a Mountain Stream 59 Pen Pictures 60 To Mother 62 The Broken Heart 63 A Year Ago 65 A Christmas Peep 66 Winnie's Christmas Eve 68 My Heart's Little Room 69 The Three Muses 71 A Recollection 72 Don't Question Him Why 73 Why? 74 A Sunset Longing 74 Journeys 76 The Lost Poem 78 A Maple Leaf 80 A Gallop With Santa Claus 81 Home Memories 83 Sunshine and Shadow 85 Only a Fern Leaf 87 A Dream 88 Those Soft Airs She Played 89 To Albert 91 The Reunion of the Flowers 92 Children of the Brain 94 A Lily of the Valley 96 Lines to the Old Year 97 Why I Smile 98 My Phantom Ships 99 The Weight of a Word 101 An Apology 103 Speak Kindly 104 Those Willing Hands 106 Look Into the Past 107 A Little Face 108 The Canary and Rose 109 A Sigh or a Tear 110 Snow-flakes 112 A Foot-print 113
KATYDID'S POEMS.
To a Katydid.
Little friend among the tree-tops, Chanting low your vesper hymns, Never tiring, Me inspiring, Seated 'neath the swaying limbs, Do you know your plaintive calling, When the summer dew is falling, Echoes sweeter through my brain Than any soft, harmonic strain?
Others call you an intruder, Say discordant notes you know; Or that sadness, More than gladness, From your little heart doth flow; And that you awake from sleeping Thoughts in quiet they were keeping, Faithless love, or ill-laid schemes, Hopes unanchored--broken dreams.
No such phantoms to my vision Doth your lullaby impart, But sweet faces, No tear traces, Smile as joyous in my heart, As when first at mother's knee Learned I your sweet mystery. I defend you with my praises, For your song my soul upraises.
Do you wonder that at twilight Always by my cottage door I am seated? You've repeated Oft'ner still those tunes of yore; And I love them, love your scanning And your noisy tree-top planning; Though you struggle with a rhyme, In due season comes the chime.
Oft I fancy when your neighbors, In some secret thicket hid, Are debating, Underrating What that little maiden did, That above their clam'rous singing I can hear your accents ringing, Like a voice that must defend From abuse some time-loved friend.
Though the nightingale and swallow Through the poet's measures sing, No reflection Of dejection Petrifies or palls your wing. In the calm and holy moonlight, On and on with hours of midnight, In the darkness, in the rain, Still you whisper your refrain.
Dream I not of fame or fortune, Only this I inward crave, Sweet assurance, Long endurance, Of a love beyond the grave. Should my songs die out and perish, You'll my name repeat and cherish; Though all trace is lost of me, Still you'll call from tree to tree,
KATYDID.
A Day-Dream.
I'm looking in a mirror, Belle, The mirror of our past; And many a bright reflection, Belle, Into its depth is cast; Reflections that are calm and clear, And O! to us so very dear.
I see a village--old Kirksville-- Its long and narrow street, And as it climbs upon the hill, How many friends I meet! And, Belle, your face smiles out to me-- The sweetest face that I can see.
There is my home hid 'mong the trees Back of the village street, A welcome rushes on the breeze, And restless grow my feet; My heart leaps forward, and I view The dearest spot I ever knew.
Home! home again! and, children, we Skip through the pastures green; Your eyes of blue I plainly see-- "The sweetest ever seen;" And on your cheek the rosy tinge; And curls of gold your temples fringe.
And see the dogs we used to pet; Down through the lawn they run; Not many passing by, forget Their bark, or fail to shun Old Carlo of the greyhound race, And Lion with his vicious face.
Yet us they follow to the hedge, Where hours with them we've played; And to the pond, along whose edge, Barefooted, we would wade. Decorum could not cramp the brain, And Love unlocked his golden chain.
We climb upon my father's barn, Hide in the straw and hay; We watch aunt "Silvy" spinning yarn In the old-fashioned way. She tells us tales by candle light, That fill our hearts with wild delight.
A shadow falls; I lose your face; Lost is the fairy-tale; And just before my eyes I trace A kind of airy veil; A network that is strangely planned, Held by the Present's cunning hand.
The shadow now has passed away; I glance the meshes through, And find strange children there at play Beside your knee; one, two-- The little faces both foretell A happy future for you, Belle.
Long, long I gaze. That pretty view Dissolves away in air, And still I'm looking, Belle, for you, And still I'm standing there; I strive your image to retrace-- All, all has vanished but my face.
And closing 'round me as before, I see a figured wall, A carpet blue upon the floor, And sunlight over all. Bewildered, yet entranced I seem, And 'waken from a sweet day-dream.
The Old Ravine.
Just back of my dear old home it rolled, With many a crumpled and rocky fold, Hedged 'round with cherry and locust trees Their strong arms toyed with the breeze-- Like knights arrayed for march or fight They stood with waving plumes of white.
And O! that valley's inmost room Was a mass of ivy and violet bloom; The larkspur shook from its purple crest A dew-drop down on the lily's breast; The blue-bell dozed on the rivulet's brink, And the myrtle leaned o'er the edge to drink.
Even now, as I write, through the open door I catch a sound of the cataract's roar, And see the girls just out from school Knee-deep in the ravine's limpid pool; And the boys, ah, me! how plain can I see Them stealing the bark from the slippery tree.
The door slams back, it is scarce apart; With steady eye and fluttering heart, I watch the girls up the valley turn, In search of peppermint and fern; And the boys are waving their caps to me, As they stand in that ragged and torn old tree.
In some wild way, I never knew how, I climbed to the swing on that elm tree's bough; Was twitt'ring a song as I used to do, And counting the clouds in the sky's soft blue, When the girls came out from the valley's shade, And earth into heaven seemed then to fade.
'Twas the Eden of old, and I was a child ; Sitting there in the swing, with the girls at my feet, And the boys overhead--my joy was complete; What a mockery, then, to awaken and part With the happy illusion--how hollow my heart!
Some Day You'll Wish for Me.
Some day, my darling, when the rose has died, That on your pathway throws its petals sweet, When the sharp thorn is springing near your side And nettles pierce the mould beneath your feet, You'll wish for me.
Some day, my darling, when the crystal cup Of Beauty shattered lies, and spilled its wine; When Pleasure's urn denies your lips one sup, And you drink deep of Disappointment's brine, You'll wish for me.
Some day the wreath will wilt upon your head; You'll smell the bud and find a worm within. Some day, my darling, when your friends have fled, And strangers mock your frequent tears, ah! then You'll wish for me.
Some day, my darling, when Death's dews fall cold Upon your brow, you'll gladly let me come-- When dreams present the shroud that must enfold Your limbs, and your sweet lips grow chill and dumb, You'll wish for me.
You'll long for him whose hands were oft denied To pluck a rose lest they the bush pollute-- Yet he would come and stand a slave aside. To grasp the bramble and the thorn uproot, If you but wished for him.
He'd kiss your limbs the hidden briar had torn, And bathe the wounds with Pity's saddest tear; He'd close your eyes that ne'er till death had worn For him one look of love, and at your bier He'd kneel and pray
For strength to watch you hidden from his sight, For strength to turn aside and leave you there Clasped in the arms of everlasting night; And yet, my darling, not as great despair He'd feel than now.
To Hallie.
Sad and cheerless stands the homestead In its grandeur as of old; 'Tis a casket--lost, the jewel; 'Tis a mine without its gold.
Once a sunbeam at the doorway Gilded room and gladdened hall; Making life a golden summer, Full of joy for each and all.
But the sunshine that has vanished Ne'er can brighten o'er us more, Though I bow in meek submission Yet my heart is sad and sore.
I have lost my life's sweet treasure, Earth holds nothing dear for me; "Upward, onward," be my motto, Onward, upward, still to thee.
Hallie! be my guarding angel, Teach my footsteps not to stray; Spread your sainted wings above me, Lead me in "the narrow way,"
So that you can come and meet me-- Waft me heavenward on your breast, "Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest."
I've Asked You to Forget Me.
I've asked you to forget me, To let our happy past Ne'er be recalled; for ah! it was Too sweet, too bright! to last.
But yet you say that you're my friend, And still as fond and true; While I ne'er care to see thy face, Or have one thought of you.
Then ne'er again recall those days When roguish Cupid played At twining garlands 'round our hearts Only to wilt and fade;
For I have with a steady hand, Not heeding Love's sweet art, Unwound them from their resting place And freed your faithless heart.
Little Blanche.
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