Part 4

It yet may be seen in the town of Soleure, To show how the skill of the birds began At the point where human skill fell short; For they used what was waste in the hands of man.

THE PRAIRIE NEST

Where, think you, a little gray finch in the far wide West Chose (of all places!) to build and to brood her nest?

Well, I will tell you the tale that the hunter told: (Strange things has he seen--this hunter grizzled and old.)

He spoke of the cattle that came to no herder's call, Roaming the fenceless prairie from springtime to fall.

A shot from his rifle laid low the king of the herd-- When, hark! the sharp cry of a circling and hovering bird!

What did it mean? The hunter drew in his rein, And leaped to the ground, where dead lay the lord of the plain!

Stilled was the beating heart, and glazed were the eyes; The fluttering bird circled higher, and sharper her cries;

While, finer and fainter, yet many, and all as keen, Came cries from below, as in answer. What could it mean?

The hunter bent down; and his heart with wonder was stirred, When he saw, between the wide horns, the nest of a bird,

Like a crown which the prairie's monarch might choose to wear On his shaggy forelock, and lined with the friendly hair!

The hunter stood still, abashed in the midst of the plain, To hear the little gray mother's cry of pain,

And the faint fine voices of nestlings answer the cry; While their fearless friend lay dead between earth and sky!

THE MOVING OF THE NEST

Do not ask me _why?_ or _how?_-- All in Fairyland it chanced, As the leaves upon the bough In the autumn breezes danced!

"Quip-a-quip-a-quip-a-queer!" Said the Thrush unto his mate. "We must soon be gone from here; No one else would stay so late!"

Do not ask me _why?_ or _how?_-- But his mate did sorely grieve: "My dear nest upon this bough It will break my heart to leave!"

Do not ask me _how?_ or _why?_-- But the thrush's children, too, Perched around, began to cry, "Oh, whatever shall we do?"

"Cheep-a-cheep-a-cheep-a-cheer! Never such a nest as ours; We would rather have it, _here_, Than Bermuda and the flowers!"

"Cheep-a-cheep-a-cheep-a-cheer," Pleaded then the thrush's mate: "Let us take the nest, my dear, It is light and we are eight!"

(Do not ask me _why?_ or _how?_--) But the thrushes, with a cheer, Took that nest from off the bough-- "Quip-a-quip-a-quip-a-queer!

"Quip-a-quip-a-quip-a-queer! Firmly, now, with beak and claw; Spread your wings, and never fear,-- _You_ to push, and _you_ to draw!"

So the thrushes took their nest, Every one his strength applied; But the youngest 'twas thought best Should be snugly tucked inside.

All in Fairyland it chanced! There is nothing more to say; Ere the morn was far advanced, They were miles and miles away!

THE WIDOWED EAGLE

Out from the aërie beloved we flew, Now through the white, and now through the blue; Glided beneath us hilltop and glen, River and meadow and dwellings of men!

We flew, we flew through the regions of light And the wind's wild pæan followed our flight! Free of the world, we flew, we flew-- Bound to each other alone,--we two!

To the shivering migrant we called "Adieu!" Mid the frost-sweet weather, we flew, we flew! Till, hark from below! the hiss of lead, And one of us dropped, as a plume is shed!

Around and around I flew, I flew, Wheeling my flight, ever closer I drew! There, on the earth, my belovèd lay, With a crimson stain on her breast-plumes gray!

And creatures of earth we had scorned before, Now measured the wings that would lift no more: And I stooped, as an arrow is shot from the height, And sought to bear her away in my flight flight--

Away to our aërie far to seek! Well did I fight with talons and beak; But the craven foe, in their numbers and might, Bore her in triumph out of my sight!

THE CHICKADEE

Black-cap, madcap, Never tired of play, What's the news to-day? "Faint-heart, faint-heart, Winter's coming up this way, And the winter comes to stay!"

Black-cap, madcap, Whither will you go, Now the storm-winds blow? "Faint-heart, faint-heart, In the pine boughs, thick and low, We are sheltered from the snow!"

Black-cap, madcap, In the snow and sleet, What have you to eat? "Faint-heart, faint-heart, Seeds and berries are a treat, When the frost has made them sweet!"

Black-cap, madcap, Other birds have flown To a summer zone! "Faint-heart, faint-heart, When they're gone, we black-caps own Our white playground all alone!"

THE EARTH-MOTHER AND HER CHILDREN

Her children all were gathered round her, One olden, golden day; Between her tender, drooping eyelids She watched them feed or play.

Upon the lion's living velvet She pillowed her fair head; A white fawn pushed its dewy muzzle Beneath the hand that fed.

A goldfinch clung upon a ringlet That brushed her wide, smooth brow; And, thence, right merrily he answered His comrades on the bough.

But at her feet there lay a sleeper, Of subtly-fashioned limb; Whose motion, force and will to be, Kept yet their prison dim.

And round about his couch of slumber The rest a space did make: "Your peace" (the Mother told her children) "Is broken, if he wake!

"Lo! this--the best of all created-- Shall yet an evil bring: And ye in doubt shall graze the pasture, And ye in fear shall sing.

"For your dear sake, my lesser children, I keep him long asleep; Play on, sing on, a happy season-- His dreams be passing deep!"

Thus, while her children gathered round her, And while Man sleeping lay, The fair Earth-Mother softly murmured, "It is your Golden Day!"

"WHEN THE LEAVES ARE GONE"

When the leaves are gone, the birds are gone, And 'tis very silent at the dawn. Snowbird, nuthatch, chickadee,-- Come and cheer the lonely tree!

When the leaves are gone, the flowers are gone, Fast asleep beneath the ground withdrawn. Flowers of snow, so soft and fine-- Clothe the shivering branch and vine!

THE FIRST THANKSGIVING

(1621)

I would like to lift the curtain Hides the past from mortal view, For a glimpse of one Thanksgiving When New England still was new.

I would like to see that feast day Bradford for his people made, Ere the onset of the winter, That their hearts might be upstayed.

First he sent a score of yeomen, Skilled in woodcraft, sure of aim; All one day they spent in hunting, That there might be store of game.

Fathers, brothers (aye, and lovers!), Home they bring the glossy deer; Some but praise their hunter's prowess, Some, soft-hearted, drop a tear.

I would like to see those housewives, Busy matrons, maidens too, Watching by the ripening oven, Bending o'er the home-made brew.

I would like to see the feasting Where the snowy cloth is spread; Here shall no one be forgotten, Here shall all be warmed and fed.

Welcome, too, ye friendly shadows At the white man's feast and sport, Tufted warriors, grave onlooking, Massasoit and his court.

"MASCOTS"

Home they come from Cuba Libre; And they march with hastening feet Underneath the floating banners, Up the thronged and ringing street.

When you cheer your sunburnt heroes, Don't forget their pensioners small, Led along, or perched on shoulder, Four-foot, furry "mascots" all!

Comrades of the march and bivouac, Sharers of the cup and can, All unconscious of their portion In the drama played by man.

Did they bring, perchance, good fortune (As they brought their owners joy)? Ask the youth who owns the "mascot"-- For a soldier's but a boy!

MOTHER FUR

I wonder what charm there can be in fur? The kitten curls up and begins to purr, The puppy tumbles about in the rug In his silly way and gives it a hug, And mousekin, that even a shadow can scare, For a moment lies still in the long, soft hair Then slips away to its home in the wall. Can it be--poor darlings! that each and all Believe 'tis their mother, and hasten to her?

All babies, I think, love old Mother Fur; For my little brother--too little to speak-- See how he nestles his peach-blossom cheek In the velvet coat that the tiger wore, As it lies stretched out at length on the floor! Tiger, if you were alive--dear me! I shudder to think how cruel you'd be. No doubt in your day you did harm enough, But now you're safe as my tippet or muff! You, too, I will call (since you never can stir) Old Mother Fur, kind Mother Fur!

WHAT THE CAT-MOTHER SAID

We live in a cave the wild-rose bushes hide, For my kittens and I were turned out of the house. There are plenty of birds here, on every side-- And a bird I must catch, for I can't find a mouse!

WHAT THE BIRD-MOTHER SAID

Keep still in the nest, O my birdlings dear, While I search for a worm! Do not chirrup one word! There's a cruel tigress crouching so near-- For her hungry cubs she is seeking a bird!

WHAT THE FRIEND OF BOTH SAID

The friend of both to pity was stirred, And a wish divided, her heart possessed: "May you hungry kittens lack never a bird"-- "May you birdlings dear be safe in your nest!"

THE LITTLE BROWN BAT

Quoth the little brown bat: "I rise with the owl,-- Wisest and best of the feathered fowl; Let other folks rise, if they will, with the lark, And be early and bright--I am early and dark!"

Quoth the little brown bat: "I'm awake and up, When the night-moth sips from the lily's white cup; While the firefly lanterns are searching the sky, I am glancing about, with fiery eye!"

Quoth the little brown bat: "The night has its noon As well as its day--and I'm friends with the moon. Many a secret she tells me alone, Which never a bird or a bee has known!"

Quoth the little brown bat: "There is house-room for me, When the winter comes, in some hollow tree; Or under barn eaves, near the fragrant hay, I sleep the dull winter hours away."

THE LOST CHARTER

(_Based on an Arabic Legend_)

PERSONS

Bounce, a wire-haired Terrier; Tip, a tortoise-shell Cat; An old and faithful Servant of both.

Prologue by Old Servant, as follows: We three before the fire, one night, Had but its flickering blaze for light-- My dog, my cat, on either side; I mused, while they grew sleepy-eyed. But, if they waked, or if they slept, Still each some watch on other kept. Now what is this, good Bounce, good Tip, That mars your perfect fellowship? Speak up! Speak up! you, Tip,--you, Bounce, Your mutual grievances announce.

At this my dog awoke from doze, Drew near, and thrust a foolish nose Beneath my hand; then, deeply sighed. Her gold-stone eyes Tip opened wide, The middle of the hearth she took, And cast on Bounce a scornful look; And then, this colloquy began, Which I record as best I can.

THE DIALOGUE

TIP: Dear Mistress, plainly I must speak; For _he_, who should be dumb and meek, The simple truth would never say And his own foolish act betray betray--

BOUNCE (_interrupting pleadingly_): Oh, do not heed her, Mistress dear; Think how I love you, guard you, cheer!

TIP (_proceeds with withering disregard_): When all we creatures were assigned Our places with your human kind, ('Twas long ago) while some became Your slaves--as spiritless as tame, We two, as friends, beneath your roof Were lodged, because we each gave proof proof--

BOUNCE (_licking Old Servant's hand_): Yes, yes--I of my faithfulness-- Man calls on me in all distress!

TIP (_severely_): You blundering, careless beast, be still! My cleanliness, my grace, my skill, Did, quite as much myself commend! That we should live, not slave, but friend To Master Man was then agreed: But since of caution there is need, We asked a written document; To which our Master did consent. Puffed up with confidence and pride, _He_ took the document to hide.

[_Extends her paw towards Bounce, who winces and buries his nose deeper under old Servant's hand_

He hid it in his old bone-cave; And then, no further thought he gave The precious charter of our rights-- Engaged in noisy bouts and fights!

Bounce (_excitedly_): There was foul play, O Mistress mine-- The other creatures did combine!

TIP: Hush! 'twas your carelessness, in chief, That gave the chance to knave and thief! The jealous Ox and Horse conspired, And then, the villain Rat they hired To delve in darkness underground Till he the precious charter found, And brought the Horse and Ox, who thought Their liberty could thus be bought,-- The tiresome creatures! To this day They drudge and drudge, the same old way! The Ox, the Ass, the Horse--these all Divided with the Rat their stall, And from their mangers grain they gave-- Such price they paid the thievish knave! What loss was ours, we scarce can know-- The charter we could never show! I might have had a dais spread With crimson velvet, and been fed On golden finches every day; But, as for _him_ (_indicating Bounce_), he's naught to say (He lost the charter of our rights)-- When flogged, or chained on moonlight nights! Upon one subject, only, we Can always heartily agree,

[_gracefully waving her paw_,

You, careless Dogs, we, careful Cats-- Our common enemy--

BOUNCE: Yes, Rats!

[_Joyously embracing opportunity to reinstate himself_

Old Servant (_starting up suddenly_): Ah, who said "Rats!" just now--and where? And why cannot you two play fair?

[_At this, Tip is seen to be occupying her own corner of the hearth, and Bounce to be sound asleep, his nose deeply buried between his forepaws. Old Servant rubs her eyes, then smiles thoughtfully, and settles back in easy-chair_

THE SAVING OF JACK

_An East Side Incident_

"Whose dog is Jack?" He belongs to this street. Needs anti-fat--has too much to eat. "Houseless and homeless?"--Well I guess not; In the whole of this block there isn't a tot But has had Jack home to board and to sleep, And he pays 'em in fun, every cent of his keep. He's the best-natured dog, and the smartest, too; No end of the tricks we've taught him to do. Got a heap of sense in his yellow hide! He's the wonderf'lest dog on the whole East Side; Why, even the dog-man doesn't know What breed Jack is,--for he told me so! The dog-catchers came a'most every day, But Jack knew their cart, and he'd hide away; Then out he'd come, laughing, when they'd got past. Can't _guess_ how he ever was cotched at last; But he was, and they boosted him into their cart, And nobody there could take his part. My! but the little kids cried like mad, And us bigger ones, too,--we felt just as bad; For he'd rode us all on his old yellow back. It looked as though it was all up with Jack, And I watched him go; but he cocked one eye As much as to say, "I'll be back by and by." The look that he gave me--it made me _think_; And I thought of a plan as quick as wink And I says, "Feller-citizens, ladies and gents, I guess that we've each of us got a few cents, And we'll club together and have a show, And charge a price, not high nor low; And we'll raise the money, right here and now, That'll buy Jack back by to-morrow--that's how! Tony, the Eyetalian boy, he'll sing; And Patsy McGovern'll do his handspring; And Ikey Aarons'll swallow his knife, And make us all think he's taking his life, And little Freda, she'll pass round the hat, She'll smile and say nothing--she's just good for that!" Well, we emptied our pockets--you bet we did!-- Every one of us big 'uns and each little kid Ran home for their banks as fast as they could; And we raised the money, and all felt good; And next day, early, we brought Jack back. So, now, things run in the same old track, But he's got his license and _don't have to hide_! And we've bought him a _byootiful collar beside_.

SKYE OF SKYE

Skye, of Skye, when the night was late, And the burly porter drowsy grew, Ran down to the silent pier, to wait Till the boat came in with its hardy crew.

Skye, of Skye, as he sat on the pier, Turned seaward ever a watchful eye, And his shaggy ears were pricked to hear The plash of oars, as the boat drew nigh.

Skye, of Skye, when they leaped ashore, Greeted the crew with a joyful cry-- Kissed their hands, and trotted before To the inn that stood on the hilltop high.

Within, was the porter sound asleep-- They could almost hear his lusty snore: Then Skye, of Skye, with an antic leap, Would pull on the bellrope that swung by the door.

Then was the bolt drawn quickly back back-- Then did the jolly crew stream in; And--"Landlaird, bring us your best auld sack!" And--"Aweel, aweel, where hae ye been?"

Then Skye, of Skye, on the beach-white floor, Sanded that day by the housemaid neat, Lay down to rest him--his vigils o'er, With his honest nose between his feet.

But Skye, of Skye as he rolled his eye On the friendly crowd, heard his master say, "Na, na, that doggie ye couldna buy-- Not though his weight in gold ye would pay!"

Skye, of Skye, they have made him a bed On the wind-swept cliff, by the ocean's swell; On the stone they have reared above his head, You may see a little dog ringing a bell.

TIP'S KITTEN

The master,--he loved my kitten, my kitten; She was still too weak to stand, When he placed her upon one hand, And over it laid the other, And looked at me kindly, and said, "Tip, you're a proud little mother!"

For they'd left me but one, my kitten, my kitten-- As sweet as a kitten could be-- And I loved her for all the three They had taken away without warning. I watched her from daylight till dark, Watched her from night until morning!

I never left my kitten, my kitten (For I feared--and I loved her so!) Till I thought it time she should know That cats in the house have a duty, And a right to be proud of their skill, As well as their grace and their beauty.

I only left my kitten, my kitten, A few short moments in all, To punish the mouse in the wall, Each day growing bolder and bolder; And I brought her the mouse to show What kittens must do when older.

I brought her the mouse--my kitten, my kitten! I tossed it, I caught it for her; But she would not see, nor stir. My heart it beat fast and faster; And I caught her up in my mouth, And carried her so, to the master.

I thought he would help--my kitten, my kitten! And I laid her down at his feet-- (Never a kitten so sweet, And he knew that I had no other!) But he only said, "Poor Tip, 'Tis a sad day for you, little mother!"

THE KING OF CATS

I

The wind comes down the chimney with a sigh, The kettle sings, chain-swung from grimy hook, While ticks the clock unseen on mantel high. The black cat holds the cosiest chimney-nook, Straight in the blaze his gold-stone eyeballs look, And children four do pay him flattering court. The baby brings to him its picture-book, And shows the way to build a castled fort. The black cat shares, indeed, their every thought and sport.

II

The black cat came to us a twelvemonth since; The black cat is a stranger with us yet; We treat him well; we call him our Black Prince. So thick and glossy is his coat of jet You well might say that you have never met A cat so lordly, though he seems to brood Over some wrong he never can forget. We know that he could tell us, if he would-- Our dear Black Prince, so sad, so gentle, and so good!

III

"You prattle, children. Fritz, bestir yourself! The fire needs wood, so hungry is the wind; And Elsa, bring the platters from the shelf And lay the table. You, too, Gretchen, mind, For you of late are carelessly inclined, And brittle is the _blaue glocken_ ware. Make haste, else will your father come and find, For all his day's hard work, but churlish fare. Full sure I am no man works harder anywhere."

IV

The good house-mother speaks, and not in vain, For promptly all her willing brood obey. They hear the dead leaves click against the pane, Updriven by the wind in its mad play. "One might be thankful that one need not stray On such a night as this--'tis just the night When the Wild Huntsman (as the people say), With all his hounds is scouring heaven's height, And you may see him if, as now, the moon be bright."

V

"It is an old and foolish tale. Be still, For now, I think, your father's step I hear, Though not the tune he whistles down the hill. He comes--is at the door. Why, goodman, dear, You're out of breath! Bad news you bring, I fear." "Bad news" (the goodman smiles, with half a frown), "But not for us; and so take heart of cheer. I own I'm out of breath--but sit ye down And hear the strangest thing e'er happened in this town."

VI

The children gather at their father's knees And, wonder-eyed, the coming story wait-- The story strange, the story sure to please. The black cat, who absorbed their cares but late, Is left to hold his solitary state. "'Twas thus," the father said, "as I came home, I reached the ruined castle's postern gate Just at the time the bats begin to roam And dart with heedless wings about the ivied gloam;

VII

"When, on my left, along the crumbling wall, Sharp-graved against the pallid afterglow, I saw a funeral train, with sweeping pall, And mournful bearers in a double row. I rubbed my eyes, I looked again, and lo! No human forms composed that funeral train!" (The black cat's eyes of gold-stone glitter so! He rises from the spot where he hath lain And listens well, as one who does not list in vain.)

VIII

"Folk say the Schloss was ever haunted ground; But tell us, father, what those mourners were." The father answered, smiling as he frowned: "Now, if 'twere told by some strange traveller, I'd say, 'Too much you tax our faith, good sir.' But truth was ever priceless unto me. Those mourners, clad in somber coats of fur, _Were cats--no more, nor less_! This I did see, And that the dead grimalkin was of high degree."

IX