Selected Poems of Lulah Ragsdale by Lulah Ragsdale read by Newgatenovelist | Full Audio Book

Selected Poems by Lula Ragsdale Galatea, read by Newgate Novelist I found a woman white and pure and cold, So cold, I said. She has no human heart. A statue this, which some deft hand of old Cut from fair marble with a cunning heart. Yet shone this chill, pale being's yellow hair As wintry sunshine or a world of snow. Such crimson were this woman's lips, As rare as some December's burning sunset glow. Perfect each rounded limb and dimpled arm, Each chiseled feature with no fault to mar. Great steel blue eyes that did not melt or warm, But glittered each like some far brilliant star. And yet I loved this statue woman's face, Her cold white brow, her smiles like moonlight gleams, Her every chilling scintillating grace Was more to me than others' sunny beams. I went near this woman, where, like stone, She stood mute, moveless, frozen in her place. I love you, pure cold marble, wild my tone. A sudden transformation warmed that face. My hand to those loose-bended fingers strayed And felt their pulses quiveringly start. My lips full on that sculptured mouth I laid, I heard, ah, want a rare, a beating heart. And now that statue lives and breathes and loves. And to pink flushes marble brow and cheeks, When air with stately grace she near me moves, Or when with tender lips to me she speaks. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Upton Ray by Lula Ragsdale Read for LibriVox.org by Newgate Novelist And when we meet, as meet we may, Twill be as strange as Upton Ray. With scornful lip I turned away. He did not stretch a hand, nor chide. He stood there silent in his pride, As silently I left his side. Across the stubble brown and dry, Beneath the purple twilight sky, Alone with wrathful thoughts walked I. Henceforth as strangers let it be, And when we meet be sure he'll see No sign of cankering grief on me. With frozen snow beneath our feet Trod icy hard as cruel sleet. My heart foreknew that we would meet. With scorn we met. With pride we passed. A bitter sigh seemed in the blast. No look my haughty eyes upcast. Today the soul of Upton Ray sped Gladsome on its heavenward way. And will you come? I heard them say. The grass was new beneath our feet. Along our way the lanes were sweet. As strangers Upton Ray we meet. The candles twinkled through the gloom. About the coffin bud and bloom of roses white Made sweet the room. In silent scorn of me he lay. You vex, his cold lips seemed to say. No more the soul of Upton Ray. When you have breasted death's cold tide And stand in heaven by my side. We meet as strangers glad as Clyde. It is too late, too late to tell How all the while I loved him well. In secret how my hot tears fell. Yet every golden summer day Above his grass-grown mound I pray. In that last resurrection day Oh, not as strangers Upton Ray. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Promise by Lula Ragsdale Read for LibriVox.org by Newgate Novelist Weep if the rain, beloved one Silently ogre the churchyard grass Letting the daisies above thy breast Lulling thy heart to a deeper rest Cooling the winds as they morning pass Through the slabs that bear records of sweet things done Weep if the rain in my heart Lost one Drippeth and droppeth it steadily down Silently washing all hope away Turning all life to a sodden gray Chilling the thoughts that are wandering Blown through the graves in my breast Of the dear things gone Shineth the sun, beloved one Tipping with gold all the churchyard trees Crowning with jewels each daisy's brow Lighting thy mound with its glory glow Warming and scenting each passing breeze That whispers of light after clouds are gone Shineth the sun in my heart, lost one Gilding with hope all the coming time Crowning with rapture that last glad day When these earthly fetters shall fall away And the harps shall sound down the golden street As our hands shall clasp and our lips shall meet And through years that stretch sweeter than psalm or rhyme We will bring back the dear old things now gone End of poem This recording is in the public domain Outside By Lula Ragsdale Read for LibriVox.org by Newgate Novelist Oh stars that guard the outer walls of heaven And nightly catch the wafted echoing Of songs the choir of raptured angels sing The melody from golden harp strings driven Ye are enchanted by the joy up there Ye are so deafened by the sounds within Ye cannot hear the clamor and the din That overfloweth all this fettered air Ye do not heed the wailings that ascend From hearts that bleed and break and break again The outcries sharp when stabs the knife of pain The hopeless sobs for griefs that know no end Else would your light be drowned by tear on tear Else would you burst through the jasper wall And prone before the great white throne would fall Beseeching all the saints and seraphs round To join in one petition to their king For pity on the poor mad world of men Who blinded by the earth dust o'er their ken Writhe tortured here by many a secret thing Oh stars if ye too happy are for this I plead you list but one wild prayer of mine Send down the ladder of your light divine Whereon my soul may mount to gain the bliss Not singing through the gates of gold to pass To seek her who for earthly homes too fair Has found a fitter dwelling somewhere there For I would mar her joy in heaven alas But only that among you one more star I might keep guard about the jasper bounds Wherein she dwells and catch some echoed sound When in her ecstasy she sings afar End of poem This recording is in the public domain Impenate by Lula Ragsdale Read for the revox.org Manugate Novelist Bird in the lucent height Cleaving the silver light with mounting wing Why didst thou come my way? Thou hast disturbed my day I too would sing Thou with one passing strain Thrilled with the pulse of pain Yet sweet and strong Thou hast shamed all my art Bird thou hast hurt my heart That aches with song Thou bird afar canst fly Poising in sapphire sky Sick of earth's sin Folding thy wings so near Thou canst the heaven harps hear Losing earth's din I clodding day by day Sing with my feet in clay Impotently Music of upper spheres By drip of human tears This drowned for me Bird lost in far fair shine If once thy wings were mine I'd sing thy strain But give those wings to me Those songs would henceforth be earthly and vain Birdling, one raptured day I shall be freed from clay Wing it as thou Cleaving the crystal sky As angels sing shall I Songs I dream now End of poem This recording is in the public domain The Mother's Son By Lula Ragsdale Read for LibriVox.org by Newgate Novelist Ah son, my only one My errant son Who wanders somewhere on the earth's big breast But who can say To east or else to west Whatever way the fever leads you on And fearful of the straight-set hours at home The way-bound feet That know no tingling need Of wide white road Or sparkling open mead Keep silent lip to every pleading Come, your quiet mother With the busy hands so full of duties Dull, uncoloured thread And feet that round and round the circle tread Nor ever break its bound She understands Hush, are the safe red hearth How oft at night As she a sudden listed in the wind The cold, the cold And guilty Turned to find calm eyes A wonder at her look of flight Ah son, who wanders as the wild wind blows From what full vein you drew that vagrant blood From what wind saw you took that tameless mood Your mother, in her narrow boundary, knows End of poem This recording is in the public domain The Illiterate By Lula Ragsdale Read for LibriVox.org by Newgate Novelist John's paper crackles like a beam And novel back is bent Earl holds his precious magazine Dave has his testament Their faces wreathed around the light Like torches seen to me Who sits back in the rooms half night I do not need to see John mutters Wow, that is the worst This is a rotten age But Earl is laughing fit to burst Anne's eyes from page to page Flash like two restless stars ablaze And David pays no heed He seems a wandering heaven's own ways I wonder what they read There are things they know I have not heard They're hid away from me Locked fast in every printed word And I, I have no key I grope in dimness blank and cold How do they know who've read? Perhaps they have not even told me All my saviour said I sit for hours when they're away Their books within my hand I stare, I strive, I strain, I pray So hard to understand As if to eat the secret's heart My eyes the pages burn But when I cry, give me a start I'll smile, too old to learn I'd burn each old eye to a coal I'd work a twenty year If I might, after death's dark roll But stand my saviour near and say My heart in darkness broke Light came, dear Christ who bled And there is not one word you spoke My own eyes have not read End of poem This recording is in the public domain And, end of Selected Poems By Lula Ragsdale Thank you for listening