This is Chap-Book Number Sixty -'four O F THIS EDITION OF RICH MAN , POOR MAN, BY E, R BURR, TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY COPIES HAVE BEEN PRINTED, THIS CHAP-BOOK IS A PRODUCT OF THE RYERSON PRESS, TORONTO. CANADA, F INELY TOUCHED to all fine issues, Everett Harold Burr, born in 1894 in the village of Bloomfield, Prince Edward County, to which his Loyalist ancestors had come a century before, was a rare combination of Galahad and Puck. To honour, cleanness and humour delicately whimsical, he added an understanding of Nature, observing accurately and minutely, seeing, hear- ing and learning, very fully, the things that Nature has to teach because of the poet heart and brain which he possessed. He was tender toward all living creatures, intolerant only of sham and cruelty. Q Everett Burr, who died as the result of war service, in Christmas week, 1931, went overseas in October, 1916, and was gazetted second lieutenant in the East Lancashires in 1917. Severely wounded in Flanders, he was invalided to England, rejoining his battalion early in 1918. He was captured shortly after and was a prisoner till the Armistice. It is characteristic of him that no bitterness ever crept into the few and reticent references he made to his experiences at that time. This sheaf of poems, gathered as a tribute to his memory by some young men who were his friends, gives a glimpse of literary promise extinguished all too soon. Copyright. Canada, 1932, By The Rycrson Press, Toronto G. C. Mary White. Rick Man, Poor Man By E. H . Burr RICH MAN, POOR MAN I HAVE brought you the royal velvet of night, And the rustling silk of full noonday; The shimmering spray of waterfalls I have brought To make a cloud about your shoulders; And the first-gathered pearls of morning To place about your throat. All the perfumed wild flowers I have heaped in your lap, With fern fans for coquetry; And brought the high hills To echo your laughter. And the shingly streams To make low, sweet music; Cloud fleece for slippers And the silver-clear pools To mirror your beauty. Now I offer you love; Let me wrap you round with love That your heart may be warm And mine. Page One MATINEE A LIGHT wind ran along the beech wood; A little shiver quivered through the fern ; If we had only been there, you and I could Have seen a very special magic turn, When a thousand twisted notes Shaken out to lily throats In green-pointed petticoats Danced the ballet of the trilliums in May. How they fluttered in the forest-filtered sunlight To the merry birds* ecstatic shy applause, To the hushed things that scuttered from the grasses To watch and clap delighted, furry paws! For their dainty flower grace, Chaste as snow and rare as lace, Stirred the quiet woodland place To a homage that is beauty’s own reward. * * * “AND THE LITTLE HILLS LIKE LAMBS” I N March, when evenings wear the flush of dawn And eager winds are posting north and south; When sullied snows, impatient to be gone. Dissolve in floods to mock a summer’s drouth; When sun and rain are partners in dispute And skies are higher than we ever knew, Where riven clouds, so swiftly involute, Disclose a heaven of intenser blue; When willows show a lively-greening stem And little furry paws are thrusting out; (I run a careful finger over them — Their innocence of claws I fairly doubt.) Then, when the earliest bird upon the bough His bright, perennial matins has begun, I tune a jocund song with him as now, Because the age-old conquest has been won. Pa&t Two SUNSET IN ALGONQUIN T HE day had held supreme content; I, pensive, watched the shadows slip From crag to crag; saw tall pines dip Their crests in ruddy element. Away where hill and sky were blent, Those age-old lovers, lip to lip, Paid tribute to their comradeship And drank the fiery sacrament. A loon rose, dripping crystal gold In the glare lake; a flight of geese Cut sharp triangles in the fold Of one low cloud of fulgent fleece, All lapped with flames, still blazing high, Like some Norse king set sail to die. 4 * 4 * * 1 * JUNE FESTIVAL N OW June is cradled in a verdant field, Where morning-glories lift toward the sun Pale lucent goblets, only half concealed By woven grasses; here a web is spun Of gossamer, enfrosted with the blue Gemmed moisture of a still and starry night. A bobolink will sing his song for you; Repeat “the little phrase” for your delight, As if unmindful of the hidden nest, The eager brood of fledglings who await The day they, too, the plangent winds will breast To find their meed of song inviolate. This path is beaten by the patient feet Of cattle, heedless of a cloud-flecked sky; With muzzles buried in the meadow sweet, No problems harass, such as you and I Have left behind to gather this short bliss, Set in a space between a morn and eve, While fragrant airs caress with one long kiss The flawless jewel of a day’s reprieve. LAST RITES T HE earth is drained of life And lies under tired skies Like a quiet old woman With a grey sheet drawn To cover her eyes; The earth is an old, old woman, Weary and wise. The harvest is gathered now, After a summer of toil. For the quiet old woman, Whose body is withered And shrunken with moil, Has paid for contentment and rest In fruit of the soil. The leaves are brushed with frost; Scarlet and gold tarnish fast — They will fall, like this flight Of alighting starlings, To bury the past; And fold the tired, old, old woman In peace at last. THE CUCKOO’S NEST I AM the cuckoo And my song May haunt you As you pass along The dewy hedgerows When the May Is blossoming At the close of day. I am the cuckoo And I sing Of love and life Upon the wing; And times when far Afield I’ve flown Another’s nest I make my own. THE GALLEY A BAR of sunlight through the murky pane Of office windows, dim with winter’s grime, Lights up the agitated dust again And stirs a cosmic rhythm into rhyme. Those tiny motes that float in writhing sheen Are emanations of a mortal clay Now hung suspended for a space between Recurring life and ultimate decay. They settle on my desk and on the files That hold the records of men’s gain or loss From shop and factory, shipping, forest aisles, And gild with living gold material dross. I have no part in all the strain and sweat To wrest a living from reluctant earth, — How, from a maze of figures, can one get The thrill and shock that gave their commerce birth? While others venture I must count the gains, My desk a galley on a stagnant sea, And, though I am not bound, I feel the chains And hear the long lash hissing over me. * * * ENCHANTMENT I WALKED one day when the sun was high Out where the grass is cool and sweet, And the weald, aquiver in the heat, Rolls up to meet the sky. And as I strode the path along, Stole beside me a slender form; Her hand in mine was soft and warm, So there it must belong. I dared not turn to scan her face Or search those eyes I knew so kind. Nor test the quality of mind Within the body’s grace. I only knew at last I’d found My mate for all the years to come; Her oft-dreamed beauty held me dumb, For I was spirit-bound. Page Five WAYFARING A HEAD the road winds up and up, Behind the road winds down And I can see above the brow The chimneys of the town. What cheer awaits me at the inn, The fare be coarse or fine? Go, landlord, air your softest bed And draw your choicest wine! For I am on the road since dawn, The climb was steep and long; And since a beggar has my purse Til pay you with a song. This morning from the valley’s depths I saw your highest spire; The finger-post was pointing to The town of heart’s desire. But still the road winds up and up; It’s farther on, you say; Ah well, to-night I rest content, To-morrow, on my way. 4 * 4 » 4 * THE YEAR ADVANCES A CHILL strikes at the heart of summer — Still her outposts she defends; Bitter sweet the time of harvest, August ends. Through forest ranks has passed the whisper: “Strike your tents, the time is come!’’ Scudding leaves provide the runners, Pass it on. Plunging down to Pluto’s regions, Now Persephone again Leaves behind a garnered bounty, Golden grain. SONG AT SUNRISE E VERY new morning that flames in the skies Burns out the light of the last from my eyes; Visions Tve treasured as perfectly seen Dazzled to phantoms that never had been. In every petal that falls from the rose Something of splendour is brought to a close; In every leaf that slips down from the tree Turning to earth there is something of me. I would remember and I would forget Wisdom I’ve won and the end is not yet; Savour the zest of it: only the “why” Inscrutable, and the rest, is to die. A BAD BALLADE D URING the half-forgotten strife When nations mustered out their sons, In France I led a soldier’s life And shared the traffic of the guns. When those grey ranks, then called the Huns, Advanced, I meant to win or die; “A prisoner,” the cable runs — Adventure always passed me by! Romance once beckoned me to take A world-encircling ocean trip; I thought my fortunes on the make. And then I had to let it slip. I missed my berth upon that ship; (Too long a tale to tell you why) Home ties have a tenacious grip — Adventure always passed me by! Adventure may her sails unfurl On planes of high or low degree: To-day a most attractive girl Rushed up, in haste, to speak to me, And I responded graciously — (She thinks I’m someone else, thought I,) “Oh, won’t you buy a tag?” said she — Adventure always passed me by! ENVOY I’ve always dreamed of high emprise And feats of derring-do to try; And that’s the reason, I surmise. Adventure always passed me by. Page Eight The Ryerson Poetry Chap-Books Lome Pierct — Editor Number 1, THE SWEET W THE YEAR* C G. D . Roberts 5. THE EAR TRUMPET* Annie Charlotte Dalton 12. SHEEPFOLD Leo Cot 22. TWELVE POEMS Esme Isles-Brown 23, SONGS FOR SWIFT FEET Gosiwlck Roberts 54. PENNIES ON MY PALM Mary Ellen Guise 58. THE COOUIHAL1.A WRECK Francis Cecil Whitehouse 61. TWENTY SONNETS Muriel Miller Humphrey 51. TAO Alfred Goldsworthy Bailey 36, COSMIC ORATORY "Regis" 40. THE IMMIGRANTS Marie Zibeth Colman 45. MONSERRAT AND OTHER POEMS W. E. Collin 46, THE AULD FOWK William P, McKenzie 47. BITTERSWEET Elsie Woodley 48. OUTWARD BOUND Edith Henderson 55. ARGOSIES AT DAWN Aubrey Dean Hughes 62. THE EMIGRANTS’ STONE Clara Hopper 63. EARTHBOUND Audrey Silcox 64. RICH MAN, POOR MAN E. H. Burr 65. UNCERTAIN GLORY Regina Lenore Shoolmati Fifty Cents 4. THE CAPTIVE GYPSY* Constance Desks Woodrow 7. THE LOST SHIPMATE Theodore Good ridge Roberts 14, VAGRANT* Frederick B. Walt 15. WHAT-NOTS Geoffrey War bur ton Cox 20. THE CRY OF INSURGENT YOUTH Guy Mason 56, THE ROSE OF THE SEA Lionel Stevenson 60. RHYME AND RHYTHM Sister Maura 27. THE POET CONFIDES IL T, Coleman 33. LATER POEMS AND NEW VILLANELLES S. France s Harrison (Seranus) 41. THE FOUNTAIN H. L. Huxtable 53. THE WAY TO FAIRYLAND May P. Judge Sixty Cents 16. SONGS* John Hanlon 21. WAIFS OF THE MIND* W. V. Newson Seventy-five Cents 28. PAUL PERO R. D, Cumming 49. THE WANDERER AND OTHER POEMS Nathaniel Benson 57. THE BLOSSOM TRAIL Lilian Leveridge 59. THE WIND IN THE FIELD Leo Cox 50. UNDER THE MAPLE Kathryn Munro One Dollar 52, THE NAIAD AND FIVE OTHER POEMS* Marjorie Pichlhall A complete list of these Chap -Books sent on request ♦Out of print