A Little Window   By: Jean M. Snyder

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

A Moment