\1 O F THIS EDITION OF IN MY GARDEN, BY JEAN KILBY RORISON, TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY COPIES HAVE BEEN PRINTED. THIS CHAP- BOOK IS A PRODUCT OF THE RYER- SON PRESS. TORONTO, CANADA. Copyright. Canada, 1929 by The Ryerson Press Mrs. Jean Kilby Rorison, born in Leicester, England, has lived in Vancouver and vicinity for thirty years, and is a good Canadian. Her present home at Caulfields, near Vancouver, is a peculiarly beautiful spot, both by reason of its location facing the sea, and its lovely garden. Mrs. Rorison from childhood has had a flair for dainty verse, and many of her productions have appeared in various American, English, Canadian and Australian publications. One of her poems “A Ballad of Whitby Abbey" received a prize from the Editor of “Poetry" the well-known English magazine, and has been copied widely. All lovers of verse, and especially those who love gardens, will appreciate this little volume . — Rob it L . Reid. fy^mRSONl P OETHY .CHAP-BOOKS; In M3) Garden By Jean Kilby Rorison IN MY GARDEN F ROM the icy North the winds may blow, Bringing with them the frost and snow. They may come again, but they will not shatter The almond buds, nor stop the chatter Of birds in the maple tree. The South winds whispered to the young New Year, “Spring is coming, she is near, she is near, Earth from her sleep is waking.” Freely the sap is beginning to flow; The alder trees have a purple glow, The daphne flowers are breaking. In my garden a snowdrop has broken her sheath, The good brown soil stirs underneath, And Scylla’s bells are shaking. Blue periwinkle begins to creep, From under their leaves shy violets peep, While soft and low from a lilac bush, I hear the sweet note of a hermit thrush, A love-song’s in the making! One THE YELLOW JESSAMINE A Legend r dE Lord God walked in a garden In the cool of a summer day. Along its pleasant winding paths Oft He would wend His way When the sun sank like a blessing And the rose in the sky turned grey. He stood before a climbing vine. Delicate and light. Its flowers, half hidden in their leaves, Were stars of gleaming white, Whose fragrance ever deepened At the coming of the night. “Dear Lord !” a voice was speaking From a low bush at His feet, “No flowers have I ; my sister blooms So radiant and sweet. Grant flowers of any colour, Lord, To make my life complete.” With kindly hand He lifted her, Root and branch and all, Till all amazed she leaned against A sheltered southern wall, Where the last ray of the setting sun On the shortest day would fall. Then the Lord said to the trembling bush, “Thou shalt bring forth thy flowers; Thou shalt bud and bloom and blossom Through all the darkest hours. E’en when the frost is in the ground And the stormy snow-cloud lowers.” “When the wintry wind is blowing. And whiplike is its sting, Thy little golden starry flowers A message then will bring. Thy name, the yellow Jessamine, The harbinger of Spring.” FLOWER BELLS T HE snowdrops are out in my garden to-day Fair maids of February,** They say that Spring is on her way. Clad in green and gold array, Now, Robin, sing a roundelay And let your notes be merry. Spring will bring her floral bells She’ll set them all ding-donging. The erythronium on the hills. The gaily dancing daffodils. The wild blue hyacinth that fills All English hearts with longing. Spring in my garden by the sea Does not shilly-shally. For soon will come the blossoming time The sweet o the year, the golden prime When hearts attuned may catch the chime Of lilies of the valley. Campanula bells, and myriad bells That joyous Summer rings. Foxglove bells,— when the moon’s pale light Shines on the tall spears, gleaming white. Mystic in the scented night, What glamourie she brings! When Autumn comes, apace, apace. And the first frail leaves do fall, The heather bell, the fairy bell, Upon the exile casts a spell For misty moorland, loch, and fell, The bell loved most of all. + Three AT EVENTIDE T HE afterglow is fading in the West, The mountains lose their rosy-purple light, With healing hands now comes the quiet night Folding the earth close to her ample breast. Lord of all loveliness! grant this request: When I am old and grey, that my delight In beauty fail not, nor my joy take flight Until I lay me down for my last rest. Sunset and dawn, blue skies, a foam-flecked sea. The Orient clouds and verdant Spring's wild flowers, The shadows glinting through a leafy tree, The scent of clover after Summer showers; Through these have I come very near to Thee, My help and comfort in my darkest hours. * * V JOY J OY is an airy little sprite. Made for solace and delight, Shrinking from all hapless plight. When I did to her complain Of the constancy of Pain, Then the pretty, winsome thing Flew away on drooping wing. The wild plum is in blossom now, A bird is singing on a bough. Earth is so fair, so young and gay, How can care live on such a day? Oh, Robin boy, sing on, sing on. The Winter's past, the rain is gone, Now pipe your song with merry glee. For Joy has come again to me! Four THE EGOIST Robin is piping in the arbutus tree, “Listen to me! Oh, listen to me!” The sky is blue as the eggs in the nest Prest close and warm to the mother-bird’s breast. “Fiddle-de-dee! Oh, fiddle-de-dee!” She calls to him impatiently, “An egoist, Robin, you always will be, Come down and sit on these eggs for me.” * * * NIGHT S LOWLY the hours passed on Why could not I sleep? Out in the darkness I went: Then I knew It was Beauty that called me. Very still and silent Lay the earth, Waiting in quiet expectation The birth of a new day. The waning moon, A silver crescent. Hung in the sable sky, Venus, the Morning Star, Was very near. Shining as if from the moon She had borrowed All her radiance. My soul went up to her, Caught in the star-drift — Then I knew why I could not sleep. Fiv* SUNSET T HE Sun is setting and a red-glow fleece Of tiny clouds is spread across the Bay: In shining splendour dies another day. And like a blessing falls a quiet peace. Here in this garden fair comes sweet release From that great throng that passes on its way, The noisy laugh, the faces grave or gay. The rush and roar that never seem to cease. Now soon upon the ocean silently Twilight will steal, and there will be no trace Of the tender beauty of this afterglow. Around, above us all is mystery, Yet still we seem to see God face to face And Faith’s star rises when the sun sinks low. V * * A LEAF HAS FALLEN A LEAF has fallen! All in the golden August weather Before the bloom is on the heather A leaf has fallen; While we, so long a -thirsty, drink Of the cup of joy, full to the brink, A leaf has fallen. Oh heart of mine, do you remember That soon, oh soon, will come December ? A leaf has fallen. * * Lord! I cannot find Thee! I cried in my despair; When the moon shone in my garden I saw Him walking there. Six BLUEBELLS W HERE the steep pathway leads. Past the tall rustling reeds By the arbutus trees, down to the sea, Where the rock roses grow Still frail blue harebells blow, There they still linger though shorn of their glee. Do they remember, now It is November, how Gaily they danced through the long sunny hours? They came with the daffodil Our longing hearts to fill, First in the vanguard of shy summer flowers. Brave fragile airy things, Light as a fairy’s wings, Soon, soon the cold blast their beauty will quell. Sweet flower that brings to me Thoughts of my ain countree, Faces I ne’er shall see, bonnie Bluebell. * * * MY GARDEN I KNOW if I travelled the whole World round I should never find peace Like the peace that is found In my garden, for here ’tis by green hedges bound. L’ENVOI HE swollen clouds have held their sullen sway On shore forlorn and desolate grey sea; The dreary rain has rained unceasingly. Now as the sun sets wide across the Bay A golden band foretells a fairer day. Like a great scroll unrolling silently The clouds become a fretted canopy, Purple and rose upon the sombre grey. So be my passing when my day is done; With clouds up-gathered may a tranquil sun Set on my life, with all its joy and sorrow. May love be near me, like this glowing light, To speed my soul upon its lonely flight, Foreteller of a fairer, brighter morrow. Eitht 1 ?‘4zt3 THE RYERSON POETRY CHAP-BOOKS Lome Pitrct — Editor THE SWEET O’ THE YEAR Bg Chari es G. D. Roberts COMPANIONSHIP AND THE CROWD By W . H. F, Tenny FORFEIT AND OTHER POEMS By Kathryn Munro ♦THE EAR TRUMPET By Annie C. Dalton ♦A VALE IN LUXOR By W. V . Newson ♦THE PROPHET’S MAN By Geoffrey B. Riddthough SHEEP-FOLD By Leo Com ♦THE SHEPHERD OF THE HILLS By Agnes Jaynes BY COBEQUID BAY By Alexander Louis Fraser TWELVE POEMS By Esme Islcs-Brown SONGS FOR SWIFT FEET By Gosiwick Roberts ECSTASY AND OTHER POEMS By Elaine M. Catley ♦BITS O’ VERSE IN SCOTS By William P. McKenzie ♦DESTINY AND OTHER POEMS By Mary Matheson FOWLS O’ THE AIR AND OTHER VERSES IN SCOTS By William P. McKenzie THE BATTLE OF ST. JULIEN ‘ “ “ ‘ SPENDTHRIFTS THE TIDE OF LOVE FRAGMENTS OF FANTASY XII POEMS COSMIC ORATORY THE VIKING’S BRIDE THE BLUE- WALLED VALLEY IN MY GARDEN Fifty cents By Kate Colquhoun By Guy Mason By Thomas 0*Hagan By Nelda MacKinnon Sage By F. Elsie Laurence By "Regis” By Winifred Stevens By May P. Judge By Jean Kilby Rorison •A POOL OF STARS By Lionel Stevenson ♦SPRING IN SAVARY By Alice Brewer •THE CAPTIVE GYPSY By Constance Davies. Woodrow THE LOST SHIPMATE By Theodore Goodridge Roberts ♦A BREATH OF THE WOODS By Lilian Leteridge VAGRANT By Frederick B. Watt WHAT-NOTS By Geoffrey Warburton Cox ♦TWENTY AND AFTER By Nathaniel A . Benson THE CRY OF INSURGENT YOUTH By Guy Mason THE POET CONFIDES By H. T. J. Coleman LATER POEMS AND NEW VILLANELLES S . Frances Harrison (Seranus) THE FOUNTAIN (A Dramatic Fantasy) By H. L Huxtable Sixty cents •SONGS By John Hanlon •OTHER SONGS By John Hanlon COCKLE-SHELL AND SANDAL-SHOON By H. T. J. Coleman •WAIFS OF THE MIND By IV. V. Newton SeT.ntjr-fir. cinti PAUL PERO By R. D. Cummlnf One Dollar *Ths Chap-Books marked with an asterisk are now out of print.