His shirt was always laundried well, He freed the house of mice.
Until his death he had not caused His little mistress tears, He wore his ribbon prettily, *He washed behind his ears*.
Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong.
Yankee DoodleThis poem is intended as a description of a sort of Blashfield mural painting on the sky.To be sung to the tune of Yankee Doodle, yet in a slower, more orotund fashion.It is presumably an exercise for an entertainment on the evening of Washington's Birthday.
Dawn this morning burned all red Watching them in wonder.
There I saw our spangled flag Divide the clouds asunder.
Then there followed Washington.
Ah, he rode from glory, Cold and mighty as his name And stern as Freedom's story.
Unsubdued by burning dawn Led his continentals.
Vast they were, and strange to see In gray old regimentals: --Marching still with bleeding feet, Bleeding feet and jesting --Marching from the judgment throne With energy unresting.
How their merry quickstep played --
Silver, sharp, sonorous, Piercing through with prophecy The demons' rumbling chorus --Behold the ancient powers of sin And slavery before them! --Sworn to stop the glorious dawn, The pit-black clouds hung o'er them.
Plagues that rose to blast the day Fiend and tiger faces, Monsters plotting bloodshed for The patient toiling races.
Round the dawn their cannon raged, Hurling bolts of thunder, Yet before our spangled flag Their host was cut asunder.
Like a mist they fled away....
Ended wrath and roaring.
Still our restless soldier-host From East to West went pouring.
High beside the sun of noon They bore our banner splendid.
All its days of stain and shame And heaviness were ended.
Men were swelling now the throng From great and lowly station --Valiant citizens to-day Of every tribe and nation.
Not till night their rear-guard came, Down the west went marching, And left behind the sunset-rays In beauty overarching.
War-god banners lead us still, Rob, enslave and harry Let us rather choose to-day The flag the angels carry --Flag we love, but brighter far --
Soul of it made splendid:
Let its days of stain and shame And heaviness be ended.
Let its fifes fill all the sky, Redeemed souls marching after, Hills and mountains shake with song, While seas roll on in laughter.
The Black Hawk War of the ArtistsWritten for Lorado Taft's Statue of Black Hawk at Oregon, IllinoisTo be given in the manner of the Indian Oration and the Indian War-Cry.
Hawk of the Rocks, Yours is our cause to-day.
Watching your foes Here in our war array, Young men we stand, Wolves of the West at bay.
*Power, power for war Comes from these trees divine;Power from the boughs, Boughs where the dew-beads shine, Power from the cones --Yea, from the breath of the pine!*
Power to restore All that the white hand mars.
See the dead east Crushed with the iron cars --Chimneys black Blinding the sun and stars!
Hawk of the pines, Hawk of the plain-winds fleet, You shall be king There in the iron street, Factory and forge Trodden beneath your feet.
There will proud trees Grow as they grow by streams.
There will proud thoughts Walk as in warrior dreams.
There will proud deeds Bloom as when battle gleams!
Warriors of Art, We will hold council there, Hewing in stone Things to the trapper fair, Painting the gray Veils that the spring moons wear, This our revenge, This one tremendous change:
Making new towns, Lit with a star-fire strange, Wild as the dawn Gilding the bison-range.
All the young men Chanting your cause that day, Red-men, new-made Out of the Saxon clay, Strong and redeemed, Bold in your war-array!
The Jingo and the MinstrelAn Argument for the Maintenance of Peace and Goodwill with the Japanese PeopleGlossary for the uninstructed and the hasty: Jimmu Tenno, ancestor of all the Japanese Emperors; Nikko, Japan's loveliest shrine;Iyeyasu, her greatest statesman; Bushido, her code of knighthood;The Forty-seven Ronins, her classic heroes; Nogi, her latest hero;Fuji, her most beautiful mountain.
# The minstrel speaks.#
"Now do you know of Avalon That sailors call Japan?
She holds as rare a chivalry As ever bled for man.
King Arthur sleeps at Nikko hill Where Iyeyasu lies, And there the broad Pendragon flag In deathless splendor flies."# The jingo answers.#
*"Nay, minstrel, but the great ships come From out the sunset sea.
We cannot greet the souls they bring With welcome high and free.
How can the Nippon nondescripts That weird and dreadful band Be aught but what we find them here: --The blasters of the land?"*
# The minstrel replies.#
"First race, first men from anywhere To face you, eye to eye.
For *that* do you curse Avalon And raise a hue and cry?
These toilers cannot kiss your hand, Or fawn with hearts bowed down.
Be glad for them, and Avalon, And Arthur's ghostly crown.
"No doubt your guests, with sage debate In grave things gentlemen Will let your trade and farms alone And turn them back again.
But why should brawling braggarts rise With hasty words of shame To drive them back like dogs and swine Who in due honor came?"# The jingo answers.#
*"We cannot give them honor, sir.
We give them scorn for scorn.
And Rumor steals around the world All white-skinned men to warn Against this sleek silk-merchant here And viler coolie-man And wrath within the courts of war Brews on against Japan!"*# The minstrel replies.#
"Must Avalon, with hope forlorn, Her back against the wall, Have lived her brilliant life in vain While ruder tribes take all?
Must Arthur stand with Asian Celts, A ghost with spear and crown, Behind the great Pendragon flag And be again cut down?
"Tho Europe's self shall move against High Jimmu Tenno's throne The Forty-seven Ronin Men Will not be found alone.
For Percival and Bedivere And Nogi side by side Will stand, -- with mourning Merlin there, Tho all go down in pride.
"But has the world the envious dream --
Ah, such things cannot be, --
To tear their fairy-land like silk And toss it in the sea?
