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The following sections, if they exist, are offprint from Beacham's Guide to Literature for Young Adults: "About the Author", "Overview", "Setting", "Literary Qualities", "Social Sensitivity", "Topics for Discussion", "Ideas for Reports and Papers". (c)1994-2005, by Walton Beacham.
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Author: Clara M. Beede
Release Date: February 28, 2005 [EBook #15209]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** Start of this project gutenberg EBOOK Clear crystals ***
Produced by David Starner, Karen Dalrymple, and the
Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.
by Clara M. Beede
The Press of Flozari, Pegasus Studios
Box 5804, Cleveland, 1, Ohio
1946
Dedicated to
OLNEY, RUSSELL
Jr., WILLIAM, ELLWOOD,
And All Our Soldier
Boys
We are grateful for permission to include certain poems which were first published in Reflections; Chipmunk; Scimitar and Song: Whispers; Calaveras Californian; Calaveras Prospect; Sunshine and Rain; Brown Plumes; Tulsa Tribune; Sonnets from Americanese: Fireside Chatter; Song and Story; The Arc; United We Sing; The Authors of Tomorrow; Garret, and Golden Leaves.
* * * * *
by
45: Brown Plumes 51: More Brown Plumes 63: Sunshine and Rain 73: Clear Crystals (Second Printing) 88: Only Pebbles 94: Golden Leaves 98: Sail High Above
MOTHER’S PRAYER
For this new day, our Father, we give thee thanks. Thou hast blessed us with rest for our bodies, The glories of a new day are upon us, a gift from above. Let the light from heaven penetrate our souls, and may this be the best of our lives, we pray. Remember those less fortunate, dear Father, May some messenger of thine bring joy to their hearts today. Forbid we should shirk any duty coming our way, for we are thy servants and desire to do thy will. Our Dear Father thou hast blessed us with many dear ones. I pray thy blessing upon each one, especially our soldier boys That they may heed thy voice and follow thee as their great and true leader. Forbid, dear Lord, that any one of them be lost from the way in his search for the light. Go before them and let light from above make their pathway bright. Come into their hearts and give them the peace that no man can give, neither can take it away. I humbly ask these favors in Jesus name.
—Kay MCKEE
Let there be peace, let clouds and storm
roll past,
And budding groves burst forth in little
leaves.
When April showers flush the brooks and
eaves;
May gardens grow and wheat go flowing
fast.
WHAT IS THIS WISDOM
Remaining staunchly there in shriveled
earth,
The canna stood serene, refreshed by dew
That silently, each cooling night anew
Spread living gems to sparkle in their
mirth.
Beneath, the bulb lay proving well its
birth—
A shower passed, the funnel leaves caught
true—
The plant awoke with life and beauty too.
And not a drop was wasted of the worth!
The bud refrained from coming into bloom,
As though it waited for the lusty rain,
With low leaves dried and drooping to
the ground.
What is this wisdom in all nature’s
room
That fights to live and grow, and not
in vain,
But God, whose strength in all things
may be found.
Hear the rumbling of the trains,
Soldier trains.
Ever droning, jarring, roaring on the
rails
Through the amber lights of dawn.
Hear them rolling right along
Now acoming and now gone,
Iron wheel follows wheel,
Round the bend of the river going strong.
They are taking our brave soldier boys
To the barracks. Hear the thumping
of the drums
How they beat and beat and beat,
In the morning and at night,
Hear the tramping, marching feet,
All in line stepping fine
Hear the praying from the firesides down
the street.
Hear the roaring of the trains,
Speeding trains
With the rumbling. Shouting home-boys
off to war!
Now they travel to far shores.
See them waving their good-byes,
There’s the girl that Joe adores
Waving hand, smiling band!
Hear the laughter from the windows and
the doors.
DEAR POSSESSIONS
A loaf of bread with a glass of milk
With a roof that shelters and a restful
bed,
A place to wear the faded silk
And a pillow for the aching head;
A kettle that sings while the night wind
sighs,
And a cup of tea to drink;
A hearth to sweep and a babe that cries,
With a pile of dishes in the sink.
A home to keep and a man to love,
With a heart that is true and fine.
These precious things sent from heaven
above,
Will be prized for yours and for mine.
Glad tears that rush like rivers down
the cheek
Like gilding gold of morning’s amber
light.
O happy hearts, by hearths when wills
are meek!
We welcome sun that chased away the night.
The weeping eyes will not acknowledge
hate.
When lovers meet forgiven after pain,
Tears cleanse the heart and mind of fire
and mote,
And freshen countenance and bleach the
stain.
O rain of peace, that washes doubt away,
And casts a burden from the heart and
home.
Sad hearts in joy united on this day;
Now buds will bloom again in garden loam.
Glad tears that come unbidden thus and
free
Have banished care and brought you back
to me.
THE PROMISE OF SPRING
Today resplendent in red, grays and gold,
No wind disturbs the calm of Winter’s
rest,
But quiet and serene on earth’s
broad breast
Is shrub and bush and seed in loamy hold;
The buds on elm are waiting to unfold,
Our biddie hen wears crimson on her crest.
This gorgeous day, when children laugh
and jest,
And run and dance and not a thought withhold.
For Winter’s frost was gone at early
noon.
We know that Spring will come on southern
breeze;
The grass will green and roses bloom again.
We love the flowers, summer warmth and
boon,
O joy of earth, in green and swaying trees,
In buds and bees on this broad prairie
plain.
O hallowed charm of long departed days;
The good and bad blend in a sparkling
stream.
If one recalls youth’s glad and
care free ways;
The distant roar of music is supreme,
When viewing life’s almost forgotten
trail.
There is a stream that twines its way
about
Through shady spots, by broken, rotted
rail.
The falling water glitters, and the trout,
Again, like precious memories, flash and
dart.
Through bleak and cold, a precipice once
crossed
Still fills with pride and pain the aging
heart;
For time has now the thorns and rocks
embossed,
And thus the long dead past is always
bright,
For those whose sun is sinking into night.
ROLLING TRUCKS
Rolling over desert sands
Steady there are dough-boy’s hands.
Gliding past the silver sage
Caring naught for fame or wage;
Rolling trucks for Uncle Sam,
In his kit are bread and ham.
Slipping over moon-lit dunes
Humming low the old men’s tunes.
Every moment plays the game,
Like an iron in a flame.
Rolling over desert sands,
Steady there are dough-boy’s hands.
A low blue cloud lies stretched beyond
the trees,
All quiet so. The chant of birds
uplifts,
And through the evening dusk a tremor
sifts,
The chill of night creeps close with turning
keys,
And darkness soothes each child.
The daylight flees,
Though many voices lend their artful gifts,
And mingle with the city’s murmured
rifts.
While twilight covers all with mysteries,
There is the roll of train or army truck;
A mother calls her three year old within.
The most of us preparing for the night;
Some go their way to labor for their luck,
And others toil that we may rest or spin.
God guards the whole until the morning
light.
THE MORNING
The morning freshened with the dew of
night,
Was glad with crowing cock and singing
bird;
And through the mists came hope and kindly
word.
The east aglow with early amber light.
As perking coffee roused the hungry sprite;
Beside the hearth a friendly pussy purred,
And in a crib a blue-eyed baby stirred,
Awakened from sweet slumber of the night.
O dawning! Here with all her usual
charm.
Another day to toil for child and friend,
One hour to praise our God, while hatreds
ebbed;
To hope and live and succor from all harm
Those weaker ones who know not how to
fend,
And cast a beam that lights their way
ahead.
I love to loiter by the old oak tree,
Where waters ripple over clean white stones,
And cresses, mint with feathered fern
grown high.
In such a place the peaceful thoughts
will come;
There is no hurry there where nature plays.
Soft gentle breezes wave the grass and
sedge;
White fluffy clouds pass overhead and
roll.
Now dreaming, I hear the cricket’s
gay song.
O river bank you charm me always so.
THERE WILL COME A DAY
There will come a day, sometime,
When a bright light will shine through
The clouds of darkness, sometime.
And the grass will grow anew;
Glad bells will ring at the dawn;
And at noon great horns will blow;
At evening fear will be gone;
The home lights through dusk will glow.
It will be a joyous day!
And the earth will shout with laughter,
When world peace is made, some day.
We can hear the birds thereafter.
The fragrant autumn winds float painted
leaves
Across the plains at sunset’s evening
hour,
A scarlet rose, a zinnia in the flower
Stand brilliant there beneath the cottage
eaves.
The locust hums his song, the spider weaves
His silken web in every shady bower,
Where thunder clouds pile high in tumbled
tower;
The farmer’s loft is bursting with
great sheaves;
ALL HAIL RED CROSS
All hail Red Cross! White robes of
light, all hail!
On brave and noble brows the symbol shines.
A cry for help is never called in vain,
For these courageous ones go everywhere,
On sea or land, in sun and stormy sky.
They face all dangers—carry
succor forth
To save their fellowmen—with
speed and skill
The aid goes out to rescue friend and
foe.
They know no enemy but heed each call.
A line is thrown to stranded waif or man.
In flood they rush like water down the
slope
To bring relief to those who toss in waves.
They care for mothers left to starve,
alone.
In pestilence, they labor long to soothe
The fevered brow and ease the gnawing
pain
With medicine and shelter, food and clothes.
In war the wound is dressed and duly nursed
With gentle supple hands—with
nourishment
For mind and body. Cross of red,
all hail!
They serve for us most willingly and well.
Then chide themselves when they have come
too late!
Like mothers when their sons have fallen
short;
In early dawn and through the night they
toil.
O God do bless this noble work of love;
Let’s give and further this most
worthy cause.
All hail Red Cross! White robes of
hope, all hail!
God our Father give us strength
In these days of selfish strife,
Let us smile amid the pain,
Now to meet the care of life
In the sunshine and in rain.
SOLDIER TO HIS MOTHER
Remembering those happy days of youth—
The earth was filled with gladness then,
And you, dear Mother, taught me love and
truth,
Taught me to seek the best in men.
With heart full of faith and noble thought
To bear my load and do good deeds.
And cherish worthy things, the hope not
bought,
With visions for the living needs.
You said be honest with my God and soul,
Devoted to my land and home,
And all that men hold dear. In loyalty
Respect and prize the fertile loam.
Today my country calls, she needs her
son
To fight the Japs and Hitler too.
No coming back until the job is done.
This is as honest men would do.
Hear the gale roaring through the woods!
Trees bend and snap and sway;
They race and break on this
dark day.
If I could fashion some sturdy hoods
To hold the storm at bay,
Then trim and straight would
all trees stay.
But great trees knotted by winds’
moods,
Like men who face their care,
Stand scarred yet stanch and bravely there.
TO US
O petty trifles! Why cling to us
so?
Our time in doing small things quite consumed,
And hearts protected like earth worms
encased,
Always singing childish songs, sol me
do,
And crawling safe in shady vales below,
Like snails advancing, scoff and hurt
endured,
Dead there upon the rack, no port secured.
O brother plant, some grains of corn will
grow!
The faithful farmer sows live fertile
seed.
Be not a grub but rise and stretch hands
up
When on the height reach down to troubled
friend,
And lift your fellowmen, toil not for
greed.
Wash out the grounds and fill the empty
cup.
The rose will bloom where rocky pathways
wend.
The big black fly was in a sorry plight;
She hung and dangled in a spider’s
web.
It was too late to make a hurried flight.
The sand is sifting and the tides will
ebb.
The spider then drew dose his silken thread,
It was no use to ask the reason why.
He only wished to eat and save his head,
And he must catch his breakfast, or die.
HER GOOD BYE
I love you, Darling, sweetheart mine,
Our troth is pledged, O joy divine!
With apple blossoms in my hair
I hope and breathe a fervent prayer
To keep my trust all down the years,
And love you always through the tears.
O heart of mine, my feet do sing
As down the aisle into the Spring
Of bursting bud and lilac time,
Of budding trees and robin rhyme,
So tenderly, Dear, I love you.
In happiness I go with you
Now in sunshine to follow on
And into dark when you are gone.
Then back again from misty night
And at the dawn in coming light.
At sunup when the Japs are caught
You will come when the battle’s
fought.
And then glad shouts the whole day long,
With ringing bells ’ten billion
strong.
My ears have heard the larks at dawn,
Their bright sweet carols sing,
With burst of morning sun
And all the meadows ring.
My eyes have seen the shining gold,
That rimmed a purple cloud,
And sheets of olive green there spread,
While night puts on a shroud.
And in the east a moon that gleamed
With grey blue light and sheen,
On misty, drooping willow trees,
O fair and silent scene.
These are not half the things I see
On lovely nights and brilliant days,
It seems that hills and valleys wake
To make such holidays.
MORNING THANKSGIVING
We thank our God this Autumn day,
As birds are waking in the vale,
For health and strength to walk his way,
Let justice and peace prevail.
And for this food that’s waiting
here,
Now fill our hearts with faith and love;
And bless our loved ones far and near,
O God, our Father up above.
All nature dons a cool green coat,
Soft breezes blow and white clouds float;
The blue jay screams his piercing note.
The April sun shines fine today,
And all the world is bright and gay.
Small twinkling leaves now dance and play!
The Spring has made a grand debut;
And turned up sod is reddish blue,
Where last year’s roses bloomed
for you.
And to the woods then let us hie
To gather sorrel for a pie,
And pick some posies from the rye.
O Daughter come, a walk is free,
Lock up the house and bring the key;
For sing we must in joy and glee.
THE HAPPY CAMPERS
Burning brush
In morning hush
While bacon fragrance floats.
Daylight dreams
Along bright streams
With knapsack and light coats.
Wind blown hair,
They march and share
And sing the happy notes.
O Glendolyn, the life of my being,
O Darling, the good in your heart!
Bright eyes in the flash of a moment
Grow sad as the time nears to part,
Tears well in the midst of the laughter,
Unbidden as the showers in Spring.
Although the days cloud, but after
The future will brighten and sing.
O Glendolyn, weep not at my going,
The weary long hours will pass;
And dawn with its flame and a promise
Will touch the grey sod and dry grass.
The elm in the garden will flower
And the hills on the plains be shining.
That day, then the battle is over,
I will come with swift feet, my Darling.
IN REFLECTION
In the morning of my youth
When my veins were full of strength
There was Dad and Mom to say
What to do. They spoke at length.
Did I listen to the truth?
Much of it has passed me by.
Now if only some one would
Speak to me and tell me why.
We wakened in the morning
The wind had blown up cold;
And too, the oaks were grumbling
Like men agrowing old.
We must all work this morning,
Though rough and harsh outside,
Men labor in the storming
For all must eat betide.
THAT CLOSE DRAWN VEIL
If we could lift that close drawn veil
and see,
The anxious hours might pass in rest and
sleep.
But wait! Could men but sow and counting
reap?
Who would toil on when knowing loss must
be?
No wild glad hoping with expectancy!
And wooing lover then might he not weep?
The fortune which would grieve—no
shop to keep.
Enough. Man can climb higher and
be free.
Leave be the veil and let men struggle
Love our neighbors as ourselves,
May we fit in where we can,
Love our God and praise his name
Is God’s law for mortal man.
WHEN THE BOYS COME HOME
Bright smiles and many tear drops
Are begging loved ones stay;
For not all soldier boys come home
When bugles call today.
Brave lassies wait, toiling, hoping,
And keep the hearth brushed
clean,
The home fires glowing brightly
With all about serene.
The heart grows weary often,
For hours and days are long.
But when the fight is over
The land will ring with song.
With all the maidens singing
The full and happy notes,
While men go shouting, marching,
At sight of khaki coats.
And Main Street pushing, crowding,
Will be a surging stream,
For when this war is over
Our joy will be supreme.
COLOPHON
This is number 103 of the Torchbearers’ Chapbooks, printed by hand at the Pegasus Studio, from hand-set 10 point Century on Eggshell book paper, in an edition of 106 copies and the type distributed.
Copies may be secured from the author,
at 75c each, postpaid
Clara M. Beede, 304 West 102 St., Apt.,
1-A,
New York City 25, N.Y.
Torchbearers’ Chapbooks from Pegasus Studios:
4 Strange Riders Journey, L.V. Zietlmann, Texas 5 Heartsease, Thomas B. Livingston, Rhode Island 6 Thru the year—16 Singing Moods, C.H. Greenfield, Cal. 19 Wayside Rhymes, Vera B. Stewart, W. Va. 22-11 Songs of Golden Spring, Frances Belle Delzell, Ore. 24 Clash of Sword and Cymbal, Comp. by L.T. McNair, N.C. 25 Petals of Dreams, Lloyd Day, Montana 26-37 Memories and Moods, Edna Smith DeRan, La 29 Surgings, Otis Raymond Dow, Maine. 30 Raking Leaves, Edith Moody Rittenour, Mich.
42 Echoes of Alabama, Ethel Morgan Dunham, Ala. 46 Cross Roads, Fort Collins, Poetry Group, Colo. 48 Winds in The Pines, Lillian M. Olivier, Calif. 54 Recitations, Zilla Vollmer Tietgen, Illinois 55 Symbols For These Times, Jeremy Ingalls, Mass. 56 Balmy Breezes, Julia Yohn Pickett, Md. 57 Singing Waters, Lena Mearle Shull, S.C. 59 This Crystal Hour, Lucille Iredale Carlson, Utah
60-35 Dream Shadows, Carolyn Kingdon Gordman, N.Y. 61 The Vulture and Its Brood, Robert Fontinelle, Mo. 69 The White Moth Flew, Sam. A. Messirly, Ohio 70-67 Miniature Moods, Jan Humphrey James, Illinois 74-38 Potpourri, L.V. Klose, IowaPage 9
75-72 Thought Clusters, Mary O’Connor, Pa. 76 This and That, Cora E. Orr, Wash. 77 Out Of A Barracks Bag, Sgt. Charles L. Painter, Calif.
82 Pensee Encore, Oliva M. Diaz, Mich. 83-49 Beltane, Sgt. Lawrence A. Wiggin, New Hampshire 84 Dur-Rations, Mary V. Cacossa, New Jersey 85 Rhymes For Every Season, Lydia O. Jackson, N. Dakota 89 Reveries, Virginia A. Demirjian, Ohio
91 Pathways of Gold, Edwin Becker, New York 92 Songs of a Pioneer’s Daughter, May D. Burdick, Ga. 93-18-20 More Xmas and New Year Poems, K.N. Smith, Ohio 95 Through the Night, Helen Bostwick, Mich. 97 The Understanding Heart, Wilma Shirley Thone, Ohio 99 Another Spring, Miriam Benham, Ohio
100-87 Fantasies, Ruth E.J. Sarver, Paris, France 101 Poetical Journeys, Colleen Martin, Ohio 102 Sailing Into Harbor, Kay Dombrowski, Wisc. 103-98-94 88-73-63-51-45 Clear Crystals, Clara M. Beede, Okla. 104-96-90 Beyond the Blue, Bessie Viddleton Heth, Wis. 105-14-23 Observations Along Life’s Path, A.I. Eason, Fla. 106 Merry Magdalene Gets Flowers, Jo Birt, Ohio
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