CROSS ROADS

by MARGARET E. SANGSTER,

To My Father

NOTE

Some of the verses in this book have been printed by The Christian Herald,
Good Housekeeping, Pictorial Review, New Fiction Publishing Company and
the C. H. Young Publishing Company. I wish to acknowledge, with thanks,
permission to reprint them.

CONTENTS

PREFACE
WOOD MAGIC
WATERIN' THE HORSES
AT DAWN
THE HAUNTED HOUSE
TO A PAIR OF GLOVES
PEAKS
LI'L FELLER
TO AN OLD SCHOOLHOUSE
THE OLD SAILOR
THE RIVER AND THE TREE
AUTUMN SONG
SCARLET FLOWERS
ON FIFTH AVENUE
FROM A CITY WINDOW
THE LADY ACROSS THE COURT
TO A PORCELAIN PUPPY DOG
COLORS
POSSESSION (A TENEMENT MOTHER SPEAKS)
LIGHTS OF THE CITY
STEEL
MUSIC OF THE SLUMS
"BE OF GOOD CHEER!"
FROM MY ROOM
THE BALCONY SCENE
A BOWERY PAWN-SHOP
SPRING IN THE CITY
LI'L EMPTY CLOSET
TWO LULLABYS
I DREAMED YOUR FACE
ANSWER
A BABY'S HANDS
ALL ALONG THE BROAD HIGHWAY
MY MOTHER
HEREDITY
APRIL
THE DESERT PATH (SEVEN SONNETS)
SUMMER SONG
COMPREHENSION (A MOTHER'S SONG)
SINGING ON THE MARCH
EASTER
RESURRECTION
THE QUEEN
FRAGMENTS
IT'S LOTS OF FUN
VALENTINE
THE SACRIFICE
TO A CERTAIN ROOM
OTHER DAYS
AT TWILIGHT
THERE ARE SUCH WEARY LITTLE LINES
THREE SONGS OF AWAKENING
IN A CANOE
CAPTIVE-HEART
EVENING SONG
AFTER A DAY OF WAITING
INTANGIBLE
AT FIRST SIGHT
FIVE SONNETS
FORGIVEN
THE WRITING
AT PARTING
WHEN I AM OLD
THE REFUGE
TO DREAM ALONE
NOW I MAY SING OF SADNESS
WHEN WAR CAME
WHEN YOU WENT BY
IN MEMORIAM
A PEASANT GIRL SINGS
TOGETHER
JIM-DOG
SIX SONNETS
AFTER PEACE
FROM THE DECK OF A TRANSPORT
TIM -- MY BUNKIE
A PRAYER FOR OUR BOYS RETURNING
PARIS
SONG FROM FRANCE
FROM PARIS TO CHATEAU-THIERRY
A RUINED CHURCH
CHILD FACES
AFTER HEARING MUSIC COMING FROM A DEVASTATED FARMHOUSE
RETURN
THE PHOENIX
A PRAYER ON EASTER FOR OUR BOYS KILLED IN ACTION
INDEPENDENCE DAY, 1919
SHADOWS
L'ENVOI

PREFACE

The candlelight sweeps softly through the room,
   Filling dim surfaces with golden laughter,
   Touching with mystery each high hung rafter,
Cutting a path of promise through the gloom.

Slim little elves dance gently on each taper,
   Wistful, small ghosts steal out of shrouded
      corners --
   And, like a line of vague enchanted mourners,
Great shadows sway like wind-blown sheets of paper.

Gently as fingers drawn across your hair,
   I see the yellow flicker of it creep --
   And in a silence that is kin to sleep,
I feel a world away from pain and care.

Roads stretch like arms across the world outside,
   Roads reach to strife, to happiness, to fame --
   Here, in the candlelight, I speak your name,
Here we are at life's cross way, side by side!

OH, THERE ARE BROOKS THERE, AND FIELDS THERE AND NOOKS
         THERE --
   NOOKS WHERE A SEEKER MAY FIND FOREST FLOWERS;
BLUE IS THE SKY THERE, AND SOFT WINDS CREEP BY THERE,
   SINGING A SONG THROUGH THE LONG SUMMER HOURS.

WOOD MAGIC

The woods lay dreaming in a topaz dream,
   And we, who silently roamed hand in hand,
   Were pilgrims in a strange, enchanted land,
Where life was love, and love was all a-gleam.

And old remembered songs came back to greet
   Our ears, from other worlds of long ago,
   The worlds that we of earth may seldom know --
And to those songs we timed our vagrant feet.

We did not speak, we did not need to say
   The thought that lay so buried in our hearts --
   The thoughts as sweet as springtime rain, that
      starts
The buds to blossoming in wistful May.

We did not need to speak, we could not speak,
   The wonder words that we in silence knew --
   We walked, as very little children do,
Who feel, but cannot tell, the thing they seek.

Beyond a screen of bushes, bending low,
   We knew that fair Titania lay at rest,
   Her pillowed head upon her lover's breast,
Her kisses swift as birds that come and go!

And underneath a wall of mottled stone,
   We knew the sleeping beauty lay in state,
   Entangled in a mist of tears, to wait
The prince whose kiss would raise her to a throne.

Perhaps a witch with single flaming eye,
   Was watching from beneath the hemlock tree;
   And fairies that our gaze might never see,
Laughed at us as we, hand in hand, crept by.

Laughed at us? No, I somehow think they knew
   That you and I were kin to them that day!
   I think they knew that we were years away
From everything but make-believe, come true.

I think they knew that, singing through the air,
   There thrilled a vague, insistent, harp-like call --
   And that, where woodbine blazed against the wall,
You held me close and kissed my wind-tossed hair!

WATERIN' TH' HORSES

I took th' horses to th' brook -- to water 'em you know,
   Th' air was cold with just a touch o' frost;
And as we went a-joggin' down I couldn't help but
      think,
   O' city folk an' all the things they lost.

O' cause they have their lighted streets -- their Great
      White Way an' such,
   O' course they have their buildings large an' tall;
But, my! they never know th' joy o' ridin' ter th'
      brook,
   An' somehow I don't envy 'em at all!

Perhaps I'd like it -- for awhile -- to hear th' songs an'
      laughter,
   But somehow, I don't know exactly why;