Alice Guerin Crist Poems

A magic wrought of dying dreams
A wizard light that creeps and glows;
Painting grey hills and sluggish streams
In tints of gold and rose
...

In a garden where the may made the straggling fences gay
And the roses cream and scarlet shed their petals on the breeze
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All rank on rank the tall white lillies stood,
The graceful palms against the rose-flushed sky
Showed gemmed with dew-drops, and red poppies glowed
Through the rank grass near by.
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They tell of harps and golden crowns, and singing,
But oh, I think, when ends the strife and pain,
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They don’t believe in fairies,
Those old folk wide and staid,
They’ve never caught the glitter
Of their wings in forest shade.
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We are saddling Don and Laddie,
Mid laughter, and fun and noise
And maybe, a sigh in passing
For vanished holiday joys.
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Oh my heart beat high with joy elate,
When Danny rode in the Hunters’ Plate
On Enniskillen, the raking grey-
A mighty jumper, with power to stay!
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I
The double-blossomed peach-trees with rosy bloom were gay
When grandpa rode beneath them upon his courting way,
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A letter from “The East” it came today,
And all the house is lightened of its gloom:
A sun-browned desert wind through every room
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The sun is setting behind the range,
his golden rays pour down
On a little figure, childish, strange,
Bending over a volume worn,
...