P A R A B l
P E A R L S
Poem s B y M a r th a Sn e ll N icho lson
A B ride ’ s Garden I am busy planting rapture and perfume, A ll the wonder of a garden full of bloom. Larkspurs — singing word of beauty and delight — Surely they’ll be making music in the night! Finding this name on a package made me thrill, And I, sm iling, plant sweet-williams for m y Bill. Bachelor’s buttons. He’ll not need them any more; Married now, and proud he’s not a bachelor! Pansies, daisies, small sweet faces looking up, Golden poppies, holding beauty like a cup. Bright petunias, flaunting petals gay and smart; Babies’ breath in this small corner. Hush, m y heart! Now at last m y happy planting all is done. Please, God, work Thy miracles of rain and sun! W hen Y on Come Home W hen you come home, the leaves all dance On our poplar trees; The ruffled curtains gaily flap A welcome in the breeze, Though they’ve heen hanging limp as rags W h ile you’ve been gone all day. The clock forsakes its sober gait, And jigs a roundelay. And when I meet you at the door, And greet you as I’m bid, Just see the bubbling kettle juggle Its ecstatic lid! Trousseau Once he said that this blue flowered gown Made m y eyes look as blue as the sea, And his words wove a shining crown I shall wear through eternity, H is words, and the look in his eyes! And I know that in Paradise I shall walk through the wide Golden Town In the ghost of that blue flowered gown!
Honeymoon House Lend me your crescent moon, sky, to swing just over our door, And your most glittering stardust to sprinkle over the floor. Draw from your far horizons beauty and ecstasy, Treasure to deck a palace housing m y Love and me! And please, could you spare me one sun set to hang on this gray north wall? Your brush must have painted m illions — you can’t be needing them all! I could use some draperies of tw ilight, in a certain amethyst tint But I haven’t the face to be asking, and it isn’t nice to hint. So foolish, Beloved, m y begging such gifts from the far-flung skies; Already m y heart has found them in your kiss and the love in your eyes! Ambition I thought I wanted Paris, I thought I wanted Rome, And all the while I wanted only you, and home! I longed to scorch m y fingers'in a blaze of fame, And never guessed the warmth that’s in a cradle flame. Suppose I’d sat at banquets beneath a palace roof,. And so had missed the savor of this home- baked loaf, Or that I’d walked w ith princes on European tours, And never learned how sweetly m y step matches yours! 0 , queens are only women, and kings are only men, But you and I found Eden, and walked w ith God again! House o f Dream s M y lover, w ith sunshine in his hair, Laid every board with tender care, Picturing his lady walking there W ithin this house of dreams come true. The angels guided his hammer’s blows A s he measured and nailed, for everyone knows That angels love lovers as bees love a rose. A h , rose-twined house of our dreams come true!
These selected poems for June are from "Th e Glory Forever," "Wings and Sky" and "In Heaven's Garden" (Moody Press). F irst K iss
W e kissed in the April rain. I shall never be free again;
Though I lock the window and door I am never alone any more,
For I dwell w ith rapture — and pain, Since we kissed in the April rain. A Day in June The mocking bird sings at break of dawn, Never caring that you are gone.
Butterflies softly drift w ith the breeze, Bits of color among the trees;
The branches bloom and the young leaves start Nor know of the drouth within m y heart. And quite unheeding, this afternoon A small boy whistled a merry tune. The setting sun paints the canvas sky A s it did in the days when you and I Watched the pageant with bated breath, Together, with never a thought of death.
A h , Junes m ay come and Junes may go, And suns revolve, but this I know,
That I shall look into your eyes Some perfect day in Paradise! M arriage
The first time that the word was said It seemed that it would strike me dead, And dazed, I knew not whom they meant. W hat of the sweet years we have spent Together here? M y lips refuse To frame the dreadful word, nor use A term which cannot be applied To me. It is as though they lied. Suppose he moved across the sea, W ould I then be his “widow” ? He Has moved a m illion worlds away And yet he is alive today. Does distance make a “widow” ? O, There are some precious things I know: I know that I am still his w ife, And shall be all m y earthly life; And still his wife in some sweet sense, Some lovely, heavenly recompense, A s all the endless ages roll! O bless the Lord, bless H im , m y soul!
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