132 Ohio Arch. and Hist. Society Publications
POEMS BY C. B. GALBREATH1
MORNING GLORIES
From the shadows of night they called
for the dawn
In notes that were subtle and clear,
In a strain of music too exquisite
For the range of mortal ear.
From their leafy columns and battlements
That were moist with the morning dew,
A call for light and a reveille
From the bells of their bugles they
blew.
And lo! up the east in the blush of the
rose
Came the tremulous light of the morn,
And earth awoke in the fullness of joy
To welcome the day new-born.
In color arrayed on trellis and wall
The heralds stepped into view
And bravely their passionate greetings
poured
From their bugles of pink, white and
blue.
When up the sky to the throne of light
They had played the god of day,
Like spirits elate with a work well done
They folded their bugles away.--
Up the quiet valley one autumn night
Came the hoar mist grim and slow,
And stilled were the minstrels; their
music no more
From the bells of their bugles they
blow.
1 The following poems of Mr. Galbreath
are republished to give the
readers some idea of his versatility as
a poet.--Editor.
CHRISTMAS TREE*
Fair dreamer with the brand of fire,
A little respite grant, I pray,
Before you toss me on the pyre
To burn my wasted form away;
Though I have felt the spoiler's knife
And to this rubbish heap have gone,
I was a thing of sentient life
And beautiful to look upon.
Charles Burleigh Galbreath 133
I breathed the baimy air of dawn;
I drank the sunshine rich and warm;
When clouds across the sky were drawn,
With joy I buffeted the storm.
Beside the somber, ancient wood,
I grew in grace and symmetry
Until a lad beside me stood
And marked me for a Christmas tree.
The autumn days grew short and cold;
The fields took on a russet hue;
The trees were tipped with red and gold;
The birds of passage southward flew;
Their chanting broke the solitude
As high they passed in pointed files;
The gusty north wind shook the wood
And scattered leaves along its aisles.
The clouds took on a darker gray,
But lighter grew the waste below,
For over hill and valley lay
A spotless coverlet of snow;
And as the flakes in silence fell
And gathered round me white and deep,
I yielded to their soothing spell
And sank into my winter sleep.
The joyful awakening of the Christmas
Tree.
Awake! Awake! called the violin,
The pianoforte and the saxophone;
Through my fibres there crept a
tremulous thrill--
A thrill I never before had known.
Music and warmth and a wonderful light
That flashed from the tips of my bending
boughs,
A rustle of garments, a colorful swirl
And the ecstasy of a blissful rouse.
In gorgeous spangles I stood arrayed,
On a flake-flecked carpet as white as
the snow;
My arms were laden with precious gifts
While others were heaped on the carpet
below;
Bright, happy faces around me beamed,
As a beautiful child tripped softly
nigh,
In a gauzy garment of pink and white,
With the golden wings of a butterfly.
134 Ohio Arch. and Hist. Society Publications
The Christmas presents all neatly bound
With cord and ribbon of red and green,
In the midst of laughter and shouts of
joy
Were soon dispensed by the butterfly
queen.
And music again with rapturous spell
Enchanted the vibrant and redolent air;
And strong were the notes from the manly
lips
And soft from the lips of the ladies
fair!
"Hurrah, hurrah for the Christmas
Tide,
That brightens the years as they come
and go,
For its portals of mirth that are opened
wide,
For its holly wreath and its mistletoe.
Forgotten tonight are the cares of the
past
And the shadow of cares that may never
be;
For joy in its fullness is here at last;
Hurrah, hurrah for the Christmas
Tree."
Then around they swung in a merry dance,
With gliding advance and furtive
retreat,
While fair lithe figures kept rhythmical
time--
To the throbbing of music, the thrumping
of feet.
Down, down to the depths of my dizzy
soul
An exhilarant spell began to creep;
From the plaited folds of their winter
caps,
Lo, my baby buds began to peep!
The music ceased and reluctantly
The dancers parted and glided away;
The lights went out, but soon in the
East,
Through the windows I saw the dawning of
day.
And faces new to the mansion came
With greetings and gifts and rejoiced to
see,
In its crown of glory and spangles
bright,
The "wonderful,"
"beautiful" Christmas Tree.
The decline begins.
The New Year's dawning had scarce passed
by
When the ladies fair had ceased to call;
The spangles were stripped from my
stiffening limbs
And the spines from my plumes began to
fall.
A thirst was gnawing my tortured soul;
The cells of my fibers were hard and
dry;
But severed from earth, I could drink no
more,
And my baby buds began to die.
Charles Burleigh Galbreath 135
The final phase.
But why delay the bitter truth--
The story of my pride and fall--
The transit from my vernal youth
To wreckage sad and skeletal,
Spurned by the feet of passers-by,
An outcast in the mire and rain,
Unworthy of a passing sigh
And dead alike to joy or pain?
Fair maiden, speed--I ask no more--
My flight aloft on fiery wings
To Nature's mighty reservoir--
The goal of all material things,
Your hope serene I may not claim
Of joys supernal yet to be,
Mine be the pride, refined by flame,
That I was once a Christmas Tree.
* NOTE: Suggested by a young woman in
the act of throwing the rem-
nant of a Christmas tree on a burning rubbish heap. The
tree asks per-
mission to tell its story before it is consigned to the
flames.
OHIO
Ohio, bounteous state,
Home of the fair and great,
We hail thy name!
Star of the Middle West,
Gem in the Nation's crest,
Land that we love the best,
We sing thy fame!
Land of the clement skies,
Of rosy morning dyes
And sunset bars,
Of streams and woodland bowers,
Of fruit and grain and flowers,
Of quiet evening hours
And rising stars!
The fire of genius runs
In thy inventive sons,
And they have furled