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Title: A Little Window

Author: Jean M. Snyder

Release Date: September 16, 2007 [EBook #22637]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

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A LITTLE WINDOW

JEAN M. SNYDER

A LITTLE WINDOW

VERSES BY

JEAN M. SNYDER

“In good sooth, my masters this is no door, yet it is a little window that looketh upon a great world.”

FOSTER & STEWART
PUBLISHING CORPORATION
Buffalo, New York

All but two of the verses in this volume originally appeared in The Christian Science Monitor, and are reprinted by permission.

The two exceptions are “Joy” (page 46) and “Triumph” (page 49), which are also copyrighted and reprinted by permission.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Stars 7
The Brook 8
In Eden Valley 9
Benediction 10
A Moment 11
The Month of Moonlight 12
Wings 13
Heart’s Ease 14
The Sign Reads—“To Troutbeck” 15
I, Too 16
In Early Evening 17
Fearless Winging 18
Whimsey 19
Remembering 20
Aloofness 21
Listening 22
September’s End 23
Content 24
Rhythm 25
Contrast 26
Surety 27
Guests 28
Storm 30
A Reminder 31
Buffalo Harbor 32
From a Train Window 34
Scotland 35
Friends 36
A Poem of Color 37
Dream 38
Escape 39
Question 40
When You Were a Little Girl 42
Flight 44
Petit Trianon 45
Joy 46
Twilight Song Service 48
Triumph 49

A Little Window

[Pg 7]

Stars

(At Locheven)

Have you walked in the woods
 When twilight wraps a veil of mist
 Around the gray-green trees
 In early spring?
 It is then the snow-white trillium
 Gleam like stars from the carpet
 Of last year’s leaves:
 And tall white violets glow
 Like clouds of nebulæ along the path.
 And flecked, like points of light
 In the quiet pools of water
 Among the gray-green boles,
 Are the stars of heaven.

[Pg 8]

The Brook

(Westfield, N. Y.)

Curling and humming its cadences,
 It slips past me under the rim of the gorge,
 As I peer down through the scarlet sumacs.
 Sparkling in the sunlight,
 Shimmering in the moonlight,
 On and on it goes,
 A silvery sheet of song.

[Pg 9]

In Eden Valley

I saw
A spray of orange berries etched against the silver of a stone wall:
A scarlet vine encircling a golden sapling;
On the ground, a carmine robe that had slipped from the shoulders of a maple.
A sweep of meadow,
 A curve of bronzy hill,
 A glow of ruby and amethyst
 And the evergreens making deep quiet spots in it.

[Pg 10]

Benediction

Silent, I stood in the forest—
 Lured by the liquid song
 Of a thrush.
 Clear, it was, then fading
 And softly echoed,
 As he slipped into the embrace
 Of the night.
 So pure, so holy, was his song
 That my heart was calmed
 And I was filled
 With serenity.

[Pg 11]

A Moment

The beaten silver waters cut
 By the prow of our ship,
 Send off stars of phosphorous
 To vie with the stars overhead.
 Nothing but sky and the starlight,
 And a stretch of limitless sea,
 Nothing but peace and dominion,—
 Silence, immensity.

[Pg 12]

The Month of Moonlight

Moonlight is not cold!
 It is tender and benignant,
 Softening all it touches,
 Hiding the roughness,
 Covering the coarseness,
 With a glow of silver splendor
 And a lucent flood
 Of beauty.

[Pg 13]

Wings

There come to the flowers
 In my garden
 Butterflies, golden-spotted tawny,
 Blue-spangled and sulphur;
 Glistening dragon-flies, zooming bumble bees,
 Droning honey-bees.
Softly whirring comes
 The vivid humming-bird,
 Sipping, sipping all day long.
 At nightfall I hear the flutter of the
 Luna’s wings, as
 She caresses the velvet cheek
 Of the lily.

[Pg 14]

Heart’s Ease

(Locheven)

I love to tread a winding path
 Through the woods,
 And, world weary, pause upon it.
 The trees bend and enclose me
 In brooding calm;
 I feel the presence of Deity.
I hear the cadence of the stillness—
 A stillness so alive.
 The whisper of the leaves,
 The song of the brook over golden stone
 The whir of a bird’s wings;
 And I know the presence of Deity.

[Pg 15]

The Sign Reads—“To Troutbeck”

(English Lakes)

An upcurving lane, hedged high,
 An ancient stile,
 A rambling path,
 A brook,
 And musk,—
 Golden bells of fragrance,
 Fusing all the odors
 Of English earth.

[Pg 16]

I, Too

Robin, robin,
 Shouting your song,
 Your throat swelling
 With joy!
 Yes, I hear, I know
 What you say.
 For I, too,
 Would sing
 My praise and
 Gratitude
 To God!

[Pg 17]

In Early Evening

When I drive through
 The villages and the countryside
 In early evening,
 And see people sitting in gardens
 Or at their doors
 In peace and contentment,
 I long to stop and speak to them.
 They might tell me of a loved one
 Doing some great work
 In a big city,
 Or of a deep sorrow,
 And I might say a word
 To help lighten it.
 They might show me treasured china
 Or a bit of lace, handmade;
 Once some one did.
 And I could talk with the children.
 I long to do this,
 But it always seems
 That there is a hurry
 To get to the next place.

[Pg 18]

Fearless Winging

Into Niagara’s abyss of blackness,
 Into its cavernous chaos,
 I saw birds wing.
 Sweeping down
 Through the mist
 Of its mighty waters,
 Undaunted by the roar,
 Unmindful of the churning,
 Of the terror of its power,
 On sure pinions
 And happy in flight
 They dipped and soared and
 Mounted, upward and upward.
 Into the light
 And the rainbow
 Above them.

[Pg 19]

Whimsey

In spring my hemlock
 Dances gayly in flounces
 Of jade green lace.
In summer moonlight
 When a soft wind stirs
 She dances with a delicate sapling.
 They sway and bend in the wind,
 And bow to the trees encircling.
 I hear the laughter of their leaves.
In autumn she dances
 With beech leaves in her hair,
But in winter I have found her still,
 Crouching under a blanket of snow.

[Pg 20]

Remembering

(Locheven)

There is a spot in the woods
 That is “forever England” to me.
 A clump of beech trees
 Steeped in silence,
 Whose shade and solitude
 Shuts me in with my dreams.
 The sunshine slants through
 Their limpid leaves
 And turns them to translucent jade,
 Just as it does in an English spring.
 Violets are there, and I pluck them,
 Remembering the bluebells
 In the beech wood
 At Sevenoaks.

[Pg 21]

Aloofness

Down among the docks and elevators and railroad tracks
 On the way out of the city,
 I pass a tiny cottage so rickety
 That its neighbors crowd close
 To hold it up. But there it is,
 Its one window shining clean, and glowing
 With a plant in a tin can and pure white curtains.
 Hanging over the fence and filling the whole place
 With its beauty and almost hiding the cottage
 Is a peach tree in full bloom.
 In the doorway I glimpse a girl
 In a purple dress.
 But what matters the smoke and the noise and the fog
 To the peach tree?

[Pg 22]

Listening

(Eden, N. Y.)

Atop Aries hill am I,
 The lone flyer, throbbing
 Against the sunset
 Is higher.
 He sees more than I,
 But he cannot hear
 What I hear.
I hear the wood-thrush
 And the veery,
 Answer each other.
 I hear the voices
 Of happy children
 And the baying of hounds
 Float up from the valley;
 The chirp of the cricket
 At my feet, and, then,
 The silence of nightfall.
He sees more than I,
 But he cannot hear
 What I hear.

[Pg 23]

September’s End

In the ash tree
 There is a soft rustling,
 Lingering, like
 A silken whisper,
 Quite different
 Than sound the other trees;
 As if the bronzy leaves
 Had much to say
 Before they part,
 And were loath
 To bid farewell.

[Pg 24]

Content

(Westfield, N. Y.)

When I linger in my garden
 And see black swallowtails hovering
 Over white phlox and orange zinnias,
 And morning glories, in a heavenly blue mass
 Surge upward on their trellis;
 When I watch the scintillating humming-bird
 Sip from the trumpet blossoms across my doorway,
 I feel no urge of travel to behold
 More of earth’s beauty.
 Here in my little garden I have it all—
 And here I am content.

[Pg 25]

Rhythm

Firelight, and strains of a symphony
 Wafting in.
 Outside, bare trees
 Against leaden skies
 Weave their own music
 That throbs with the rhythm
 Of the orchestra.
 The wind moans, and
 Strong, black branches
 Sway slowly,
 Mark the beat,
 Then stop.
 The wind hums,
 Delicate, lacelike tops
 Quiver and ripple
 With the quick response
 Of the violins.
 With the shriek of the wind
 They writhe and toss,
 Measuring the crescendo
 Of the brasses.

[Pg 26]

Contrast

In an old world palace,
 Room after room
 Is filled with treasures—
 Old masters, jewels, glass.
 Yet all I remember
 Is the stark whiteness of a gardenia
 Blowing against a wall,
 And the fairy music of a fountain
 In the patio.

[Pg 27]

Surety

I needed the dawn, but
 My eyes beheld only clouds
 And a valley filled with mists
 And a mountain shutting out the east.
 I needed the dawn, so
 I could but wait.
 Surely,
 Slowly
 Through the clouds
 The light came,
 Like a presence
 Dispelling mist and cloud:
 Even the mountain
 Could not hide it.
 My eyes beheld all clear,
 And in the roseate glow,
 Like a diamond,
 Hung the morning star.

[Pg 28]

Guests

There was emptiness
 When the birds left in the fall.
 But to fill it came late butterflies,
 Dawdling flocks of brilliant things
 In clouds of scintillating beauty,
 Covering every bush and flower.
 As silently as they came did they disappear
 And in their place came the music
 Of the katydid and the cricket.
 Day and night the cheerful songs
 Of these tiny insects were our company.
[Pg 29] An early blizzard
 Buried every green blade and bent to earth
 Great trees and slender saplings
 Under a thick weight of snow.
 To our door came the thrushes
 That we thought were gone,—
 Shy thrushes, that had turned their backs
 Upon us in summer and slipped
 Into the depth of the woods,—
 And whitethroats and tree sparrows,
 Unafraid, waiting for food.
 Even now the stillness is alive
 With the memory of these friendly folk.

[Pg 30]

Storm

When the storm rushes upon the deep woods,
 It lets down curtains of mist
 And sheets of rain, that drip
 Crystal beads among the trees.
 Way above, the branches lash and moan
 And weave. Below, it is still,
 Still as the undersea.
 Soft fern and feathery bracken
 Loom through the mist
 Like branching coral,
 And drifting leaves float down
 Like snowy fishes,
 Lazily moving.

[Pg 31]

A Reminder

Down beneath the office windows
 In a chestnut clump,
 A robin sings all day long,
 “Joyously, joyously!”
Above the whir of traffic,
 The bands and the sirens,
 Floats his song all day,
 “Joyously, joyously!”
The lilting song brings to me,
 The peace of field and merry brook,
 And I myself, sing all day, too,
 “Joyously, joyously!”

[Pg 32]

Buffalo Harbor

Some say that it is ugly and hurry on through,
 But I love these impressive symbols
 Of man’s ingenuity.
 Here are the great grain elevators, looming
 In tones and shades of grey, veiled
 In the clouds of black smoke from the
 Tugs at their feet;
 Puffing engines shifting strings of cars,
 And huge ships nosed in against each other
 Or riding at anchor, and canal boats
 In straight lines at the docks.
 Farther on, across a slip, there are
 Mountains of ore in reds and brown,
 And pile upon pile of gravel and slag,
 And sand in soft saffron hues,
 Heaped up for the steel mills to devour;
 [Pg 33] Those gigantic mills whose tall stacks
 Belch varicolored gases, against
 The deep blue of the inner harbor,
 Where the waves pound in
 Over the sea wall.
 All this cupped by the towering
 City skyscrapers, and outlined against
 The peaceful Eden hills,
 Miles to the south.
 And when I wait for the big bridge to lift
 For a freighter with its important tugs,
 I pull out of line, off to the side,
 And let the other cars go by,
 And look, and look.
 I never seem to get enough.

[Pg 34]

From a Train Window

Once, before dawn,
 In the Mohawk valley,
 Dots of light flashed
 And floated off
 Into the blackness,
 Like sparks of flame
 Blasted from the engine.
 Then more and more,
 Mile after mile,
 Almost never ending—
 Millions of fire-flies,
 Like tiny torches,
 Dancing over swamp lands
 In the night air.

[Pg 35]

Scotland

(The Highlands)

Mountains,
 Veiled in shifting vapors,
 Mountains,
 Bleak, foreboding,
 Mountains,
 Stark and overpowering.
 Torrents,
 Tumbling, crashing,
 Dragging boulders
 In their rushing,
 Lakes,
 Forlorn and lonesome
 Heather
 In magenta patches,
 Sheep, and cattle
 Black and somber,
 Winding roads
 Through massive passes.
 Rain,
 Sun,
 Flowers,
 Mist,
 Rain,—
 Loved Scotland!

[Pg 36]

Friends

(At Lake Windermere, England)

Across the lake
 Lying calm and black
 Under the night,
 Floats the wail
 Of the pipes:
 And beyond, loom
 Langdale Pikes, dim,
 Shadowy sentinels.
 Over all, the stars,
 Like friends, faithful
 And changeless.

[Pg 37]

A Poem of Color

Stretched on the ground beneath the Hawthorn,
 The perfume of its blossoms mingled with falling petals, floats down to me.
 Winged things alight there on the blanket of fragrance above,—a bunting, blue as the sky, a warbler, all gold, an Admiral, wings banded with crimson,
 Make a poem of color of the Hawthorn tree.

[Pg 38]

Dream

(Stratford-on-Avon)

One warm June evening
 I sat in the churchyard
 Of old Trinity. I sat there for hours
 On an ancient stone, forgetting time.
 The Avon, as silent as the centuries it had known,
 Glided past, carrying me on with its memories.
 From the lush meadow across the river came the bleating of lambs,
 And from the limes floated the song of blackbirds.
 All about the scent of roses hung heavy.
 Then, over the roof of Trinity, the moon arose.
 Shakespeare saw the Avon, thus, and loved it,—
 Winding on in the moonlight.

[Pg 39]

Escape

How simple life can be!
 A cabin,
 Mountains, afar and near,
 A brook,
 Deer, blowing at night.
 Perchance,
 Rain on the roof,
 Then,
 The loved books,
 A fire on the hearth,
 And endless time
 To think.
 How simple life is!

[Pg 40]

Question

(Locheven)

Would you choose
 The formal garden
 With lilac hedges
 And vistas of velvet lawn
 And marble fountain
 Shining pool and
 Marble bench o’er-topped
 By drooping willow;
 Massed color in trim beds,
 And stately garden house
 Festooned with wisteria
 And guarded by strutting peacock?
Or,
[Pg 41] The wood’s garden,
 The wild garden,
 Tumbling over itself
 With pale Jacks, and violets—
 Blue and gold, and
 Baby ferns, tucked
 Within sheltering gnarled roots!
 And mossy mounds, starred
 With Trillium and Crane’s bill;
 And patches of lavender sunlight,
 (No, it’s wild Phlox,
 In the flickering light)—
 And fire-flies and flapping owls,
 At twilight, and furry rabbits,
 Bobbing ahead up the path.
Which would you choose?

[Pg 42]

When You Were a Little Girl

When you were a little girl
 And you went driving with Grandfather,
 If it rained, didn’t he braid up the horse’s tail
 Binding it round with a bright silver band,
 And fasten on the side curtains of the carriage
 And pull the rubber “boot” over the dashboard?
 And do you remember how the horse’s feet
 Went “Plop, plop,” in and out of the mud,
 And you felt the mist blow in on your face
 When you managed to peer out over the curtain?
 And didn’t you snuggle up close to Grandfather
 And hug the Fairy Tale book
 Which he was going to listen to
 When the rain stopped and you lunched
 Beside the road?
[Pg 43] Didn’t your Grandfather always drive over
 To the cheese factory, and bring out
 The fresh cheese curd to you?
 Can’t you remember the taste, even now?
 And sometimes, when it stormed hard, and thundered
 And lightened, and the crashing made the horse
 Want to run, wouldn’t your Grandfather always say:
 “Steady there, now, boy! Steady, boy!” so gently,
 That neither you nor the horse were afraid after that
 Because Grandfather said everything was all right,
 And he knew. And wasn’t your Grandmother
 Waiting in the doorway, watching a bit anxiously,
 Until you turned into the yard?
 Mine was.

[Pg 44]

Flight

So still lay the city,
 So very quietly it slept,
 That from high in the west
 I heard the honking of geese
 Winging southward.
 Yearningly I listened
 As they swept over,
 Yearningly I cried—
 O wild things, that I
 Could fly as do you!
 Then out of the silent darkness,
 Like a flying star,
 Flashed a plane
 With its skyborne humans.
 And all of a sudden
 I remembered that I, too,
 Could take to wings.

[Pg 45]

Petit Trianon

(Versailles, France)

When the long drawn notes of a bird’s song
 Echoes through the trees,
 It brings to remembrance the songs
 Of the blackbirds at Petit Trianon:
 Chiming, reverberating, floating down
 From the tops of the tall cedars
 As from an invisible, celestial choir.
Nor can I forget the ages-old wisteria
 Clambering over gray palace walls,
 Nor the gamut of color in the azaleas there—
 Pink, orange, cerise, yellow—
 In pale green foliage.

[Pg 46]

Joy

When your heavens are as brass
 And joy has fled, and
 Every door is shut,
 Do not forget the one
 That opens inward—
 The door of your heart,
 Whose handle is on the inside
 And which only you can open.
 Go out through that door
 And find one whose skies
 Are darker than yours,
 Whose burden is heavier;
 Bring him back with you
 Into your heart.
[Pg 47] There can you cleanse him with love,
 And clothe him with garments of truth,
 And put the ring of his unity
 With God upon his hand;
 There feed him with the word,
 And let him go.
 Then will your heavens be
 As radiant light,
 And your happiness and joy
 Such as never were
 On land or sea.

[Pg 48]

Twilight Song Service

(“B.A.” Chestnut Hill, Mass.)

In the deepening twilight there floats
 From the chapel above, the loved hymns of healing—
 Hymns of comfort, of courage, welling up from grateful hearts
 And bringing reassurance of God’s power
 To one who listens below in silent prayer and praise.
 Great peace of God, be with us all!
 Great peace of God encompass us!
 Speak to the waves tonight, Father, that they stand.
 Stretch forth Thy hand and stay their power,
 Calm them, that they overwhelm not.
 For Thy voice is “mightier than the noise of many waters,
 Yea, than the mighty waves of the sea.”
 This Thou canst do, O my God.

[Pg 49]

Triumph

These are they, O God,
 Who came out of great tribulation
 And have washed their robes white.
 Oh, holy triumph of those
 Who have endured the fire
 And the tempest’s rage and, delivered,
 Stand exalted in this very hour,
 Purged, sanctified, and satisfied.
 These are they who have surrendered
 All the vanities of mortal selfhood,
 And serve Thee
 Day and night in Thy temple,
 Lifting others to behold
 The tearless, ageless, deathless reality
 Of Thy glory.

Transcriber's Note

Minor typographic errors have been corrected without note.






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