Poems by Mabel Plaskett

Poems by Mabel Plaskett

by Mabel Plaskett

To Mary Kirwan

Mary Kirwan since your visit,

Although I’ve been lonely too,

I’ve been happy living over

Those brief joyous hours with you.

Mary Kirwan, I can see you

With your eager eyes of blue,

Golden hair so softly curling

And the laughing lips of you.

I can not, in this poor effort,

Tell of all your baby charms—

Best of all the dear caresses

Of your tiny tiny arms.

How I love your baby softness

Close against my heart to hold,

And the comfort that it gives me

Mary Kirwan, can’t be told.

For the mind is prone to ponder

On a burden borne alone,

But your smile assuaged the anguish

Of a sorrow all unknown.

Like an angel straight from heaven,

Life a ray of sunshine bright,

Mary Kirwan, now I know you

I am happier tonight.

Mabel E. Plaskett,

January 4, 1927.

Prince Charming

Though for days has the last dance been over

My strong will is playing me false.

For still in my mind I discover

The strains of that last haunting waltz.

And why should the melody haunt me

Each thought of it thrill me anew?

And why do I dream of the dancer

Except that I danced it with you.

I know I am pledged to another

I know that my loved one is true,

And yet for some reason or other

I find myself thinking of you.

Nor am I alone in my pining—

There are several others as well,

Who hope you won’t think them designing

Because they fell under your spell.

My modern ideas I’ve flaunted

Insisting “flirtation” no harm

And now when I’m not even wanted

Succumb to your soft spoken charm.

We all know your love for another

Of her beauty we make no denial—

So we gracefully say “adieu, Brother”,

And bow to our fate with a smile.

Mabel E. Plaskett,

“Apolygies to Byron”.

To My Love

My dreams that only yesterday

No magic could renew,

Are quick with vibrant life today—

And all because of you.

Could I have guessed so brief a time

Would make my heart your own,

I would have stilled my waking dreams,

And gone my way alone.

But now tis borne upon my mind,

And more than I can bear—

That you should know another life

Beyond my power to share.

Oh, I could bear with better grace,

Could I assured be-

That you would keep a little place

Within your heart for me.

Mabel E. Plaskett.

A Day at Wesley’s Spring

On the ground beneath the willows,

By a mountain Spring we lay

I and my two fair companions,

We had ridden far that day.

Early had we left the highway,

Reigned our horses toward the west

Climbed a steep and narrow trail

Leading to the mountain’s crest.

Here we stopped to look about us;

Far below the river rolls,

And the scene spread out before us

Thrills us to our very souls.

On the ledge beneath the summit

We explore the famous caves

Marvel at the Indian writing,

Legends of the ancient brave.

Farther westward Santa Lucia

Rises in her majesty,

Queen of all the Coast Range mountains;

Fills our hearts with ecstasy.

When the sun grew high at noontide

To this fairy spring we came,

Ate our lunch and at our leisure,

Breathed the beauty of the scene.

Late we turn our faces homeward;

Hear the wind sing in the pine;

Silently we ride together

Kindred Spirits, comrades mine.

Brown eyes Marion, brave and charming,

Hazel, to your ideals true,

I, with all my heart’s best wishes,

Pen those faltering lines to you.

Mabel E. Plaskett

To My Dad

To every one upon this earth it seems

Some special one means more than all the rest.

Deep in our hearts the hero of our dreams,

The well beloved, the noblest and the best.

When reverie recalls me down the years

To that far time when memory first began

I see you as my hero, brave and true-

I knew there could not be a greater man.

And still that truth is with me as so oft

I think of you who made my childhood glad.

Of all the heroes I have ever known,

The greatest one to me is still my Dad.

Mabel E. Plaskett,

April 23, 1939.

Shadows

To My Sister, Olive

Often all unbidden as the years have drifted by,

Visions of our childhood come to haunt my memory

Pictures of the canyon where we played so long ago,

Dark with shadowy redwoods that was home to you and me.

Here beneath the shadows with the brother we adored,

Far beyond the outside world we lived a life apart.

Climbed the lofty mountain peak, to where the eagles soared,

Every treacherous turning of the trail we knew by heart.

None were there to guide us, but we flourished like the weeds-

Life was all a joy to us, and straight and clean and free,

Learned of Mother Nature for no other seemed to care-

Strong and ever stronger grew the bond between the three.

Often growing weary of the shadow of the Mill

Closing in around us a prison seemed to be-

Then the Mountain called us for we knew a mile away

High above the timber we could look upon the Sea.

Oh, the wild elation as we turn the magic bend,

Look upon the ocean like a miracle below,

Stand and gaze in silence at the vision ever new-

Stand and wonder vaguely why our hearts are beating so.

Though the darkness finds us climbing down the mountain trail

Never to our minds occur the thought of childish fears,

While, beneath the redwoods where we lived, all unaware

Day by day a shadow formed, and darkened with the years.

Though the shadows thicken with the swiftly passing years,

Nothing from our hearts can take the rapture we have known-

Death has cast his shadow, taking him we loved so well

Broke the magic circle, leaving you and me alone.

Now, with clearer vision as we travel down the trail-

Filled with sun and shadow, find our lives together cast,

Guided by his Spirit which is never far away

Firmly linked together in our memory of the past.

Mabel E. Plaskett,

October 23, 19434

To Michael

What can I say of you, Michael

That hasn’t been said before?

Sweet, adorable, perfect, ah,

You have heard it o’er and o’er,

But when I look in your shining eyes,

I know there is something more.

If we could read it, Michael,

Ere time has dulled its glow.

For the secret of Life and Destiny

You hold in your heart, I know.

And who can look in your shining eyes,

And doubt that it is so?

Shining with love and tenderness

As you lie in the healing sun

Mother and Dad, adoring, watch

As age-old parents have done.

Tying more firmly the golden knot

That binds their hearts as one.

They are not questioning Destiny

For them no doubts arise

It is enough that they can look

Into your shining eyes.

Mabel E. Plaskett.

To The Ladies of St. Lukes Guild

In Memory of Olive

These familiar scenes remind me

Of my childhood at Jolon—

Gone the brother, so beloved,

Now the sister, too, is gone.

To my aching heart comes rushing

Memories of long ago,

Bringing back those days of gladness,

That I never more shall know.

And I think of her, my sister,

Who received that early call,

She whose greatest source of pleasure

Was to be among you all.

As her life was made the brighter,

By your thoughtful kindliness,

So I pray her Guardian Angel

All your lives and homes to bless.

Now I come with fresher courage,

Here, among you, as of old,

Like a prodigal, returning,

Or a lost sheet, from the fold.

For, although my path has drifted

To another countryside,

Here, among my native people,

Ever will my heart abide.

May the Guild, beneath your guidance,

Pure and stronger grow, apace,

And the blessing of the Father,

All your fine endeavor grace.

Mabel E. Plaskett.

King City

After two long years of roaming,

I was stepping off the train;

And the vision of King City

Met my hungry gaze again.

Eagerly my eyes swept broadway

For a dear familiar face,

Eagerly my footsteps turning,

Sought each well remembered place.

I had climbed the high Sierras,

I had trod the southern shore,

Each new wonder, O King City,

Made me long for you the more.

Often in the far off city,

As I closed my eyes at night,

I could see Salinas River,

And its bridge of blazing light.

In my dreams I saw the faces

Of my loved ones come and go—

I would wake and o’er my pillow

My nostalgic tears would flow.

To your arms I am returning,

Bravely, with a high resolve,

Weary, wrestling with a problem

I, a woman, cannot solve.

What is past cannot be altered,

And regret is all in vain.

Here, where I was born and nurtured,

I shall learn to live again.

I can’t analyze my feelings

I, King City, know not why-

But I know I’ve always loved you,

And that love will never die.

Mabel E. Plaskett.

To Peggy on her Twentieth Birthday

When first I held you in my arms,

Oh twenty years are long—

And fondly called you Margaret;

As in the poet’s song.

I thought that you were mine alone,

As in a world apart,

A tiny bit of elfin grace,

To cherish in my heart.

But not for long, for Daddy’s pet,

And “Peggy” you became;

To suit your tilted Irish nose,

And gone my lovely name!

Where did the years that followed go?

When did you get full grown?

What happened to that age old dream,

And why am I alone?

Again I seem to walk with you

Along those childhood shores,

And wish that I had found the key

To that locked heart of yours.

And as I view in retrospect,

The swiftly passing years,

I wonder what I might have done

To banish all your fears.

There is a truth I’d have you keep

Nor let dark doubt erase

That nothing in this world can take

A first born daughter’s place.

Mabel E. Plaskett.

The Paulsen Place

On the San Antonio River,

Close to the mountain’s base,

Under a sheltering white oak,

Nestles the Paulsen Place.

Here, like a weary Pilgrim,

In search of a worthy goal,

Came one, who was ever seeking

Peace for a tired soul.

He heard the birds notes mingle

In tranquil lullaby,

The south wind whispered softly

“The peace you seek is nigh”.

The grey leaved river willows

In solemn welcome nod,

And the murmur of the water

Is like the voice of God.

The fleecy clouds float lightly

O’er Santa Lucia’s crest—

The blue peak stands forever,

Reflecting tranquil rest.

Then came a thought and lingered

Within the Pilgrims heart,

“Here, I shall build a haven

For all who dwell apart.

Nor lock nor key be fitted

That all who enter through

May warm the at the hearthside,

And breath of life anew.”

And even so it happened,

And many are they, who tell

Of finding sanctuary

Where the Pilgrim built so well.

Mabel E. Plaskett.

To Uncle Charley and Aunt Elizabeth

When, as a child, with my sister and brother,

Light hearted, played in the stream by the mill,

Little I dreamed of the sorrow of parting;

Always together, we strayed at our will.

Favored among us and loved beyond others,

Our Uncle Charley, our friend and our guide;

He was our hero and knew not we waited,

Heartsick with fear when he brought home a bride.

Fearful of losing him whom we had cherished

All of our lonely lives, lingering; aside,

Clinging to any one showing us kindness,

Drifting uncertainly on with the tide.

Vain were our fears, for as time let us know her,

All our allegiance was hers to command.

Shyly we offered our hearts and, though silent,

Something assured us that she’d understand.

Long years have passed and the sister and brother

Gone to their rest, leaving me with my grief;

You are the nearest of all who are dear to me,

Bringing me solace and blessed relief.

Mabel E. Plaskett,

March 29, 1938.

To Pacific Grove, Salinas, and

Gonzales Rebekah Lodge

We welcome you in friendship,

And from our Noble Grand

Down to our last good member

We’re now at your command.

In love and truth we welcome you,

And beg you one and all

To join us in a happy time

In our Fraternal hall.

And so in friendship, love, and truth

We welcome you again,

And pray that God may bless our work

That it be not in vain.

Oh, ladies of Rebekah Lodge,

It is with great delight

That Amor Lodge assembles here

To welcome you tonight.

Pacific Grove, Salinas Lodge,

Gonzales sisters too,

Who honor us by coming here,

We gladly welcome you.

Mabel E. Plaskett.

To Uncle Charley On His Birthday

Comes a day to bring us pleasure

Rain or storm or any fate

Will not keep us from “The Topo”

Your birthday, to celebrate.

Riding in a state of rapture

Through the floral fields we sing

There is no place so delightful

As “The Topo” in the spring.

Here is Nature, full and varied

Blue of mountain, green of plain.

And the myriad wildflower colors

Bid us pause to look again.

We will find you, never idle-

Calm, courageous, worldly wise,

And a tender smile of welcome

Lightens up your eager eyes.

And a merrier companion

Nowhere, ever, can we find,

For the years have added kindness

To a heart already kind.

Ever kind and understanding,

I remember as of old

How your generous heart expanded

Every urchin to enfold.

As the past transcends the present,

In my musing reveries

From that long ago comes drifting

Sweet nostalgic memories.

So we wish you “Happy Birthday”,

As your fruitful autumn nears

And we hail the valiant Spirit

Touched so lightly by the years.

Mabel E. Plaskett,

March 29, 1941.

The Driver’s Questionnaire

For years I’ve been a driver in

An aimless sort of way;

Somehow I always did get by

Without a fine to pay.

But when the skies were very blue,

And distant mountains showed,

I found it very hard to keep

My eyes upon the road.

And now they bring this questionnaire

My motor ease to mar,

And you must get the answers right

If you would drive a car.

I look at it with puzzled brow,

For all that I can see

Are statements, all of which appear

Quite plausible to me.

But some of these, they say, are false.

(O would that I were rich)

For well I know my stupid brain

Could never fathom which.

I’d hire a driver and could be

As happy as before.

I’d sit at ease and watch the view,

And never worry more.

But if to be a driver, I

Must tax my brain so far,

I really think I shall decide

I do not need a car.

I’ll build a cabin far away

Where I can dream alone—

And lie upon some mossy bank

Along the San Antone.

And listen to the gurgling sound

The little ripples make,

Or watch the lazy motion of

A harmless water snake.

And when the spirit moves me,

I the lofty peak will climb

Away from toil and gas and oil,

Oh, such a life for mine!

So take away your questionnaire,

Your brain-exhausting test;

I’ll saddle up the gray and turn

My face toward the west.

Mabel E. Plaskett.