Betty Chabot Canadian Poet

Indian Summer! Indian Summer!
‘Tis Indian Summer to-day.
There’s a peaceful calm o’er the stilly world
For the sunrise banners have all been furled.
There’s a silent hush in the forest vast
And a green leaf sways, ’tis the very last.
And the sky is blue, just a stretching way;
‘Tis Indian Summer again to-day.

Indian Summer! Indian Summer!
‘Tis Indian Summer I know.
‘Tis the hunter’s noon and a dreamy haze
O’er hangs the hours of halcyon days.
The meadows lie in a lazy sleep
And the world is wrapped in a silence deep;
Just a blue sky where no breezes blow.
‘Tis Indian Summer again, I know.

– Circa 1928

An idle wind; a shiftless day;
A deep, deep blue of open way;
A morn that, silver-footed, brought
Caressing light; with it a thought
That caught the breath, and held it.
What then?
That idle wind came wandering by;
Surprised that thought ‘twixt earth and sky
And laughingly dispelled it.

The day remained a shiftless day.
The blue was still an open way.
The haunting morn still lingered near,
Until the noon broke high and clear
Once again, I sought and caught
That height of soul! That depth of thought!
The joy that hurt! That moment brought
And left with me a sense of peace
That arose and never fell:
A memory no idle wind can e’er again dispel.

– Circa 1938

Dear dusty roadsides where the common weeds
Flourish alike in sheltered nooks or open country meads;
Dear pathways leading where the clear brooks wends
Its care-free way in idly curving trends;
Where buttercups and wandering jews entwine
To grace the sod beneath a sturdy pine;
Dear common by-ways, how I love to tread
Upon thy dusty homeward trodden bed.

I love those curves that mirror o’er my way
A flood of sunbeams in the month of May;
Where daisies toss their snow-white fortune heads
And grass springs up to pad the lowly beds.
I love the pastures where each splintered rail
Repeats the oft-told pasture country tale.
I love the haunts of fairy elf and gnome
They breathe an echo of the paths of home.

The lights of cities hold no lure for me;
From busy highways I have longed to be,
Once more a child to wander o’er the way
My happy feet have pressed in childhood’s play;
Once more to lie and dream beneath the stars;
Or swing upon the old gates broken bars.
Once more to tread, tho’ distant I may roam
Upon the paths my footsteps know are home.

– Circa 1935

Heaven spread her cloak of blackness
Far across the world last night;
Life with love and hope divining
With its teardrops formed a lining;
And they glistened in the snowy white.
From the hill top in its starkness
Winds blew thru that cloak of darkness
In its chilly dawning flight.
Robe that looked so dark and brooding
O who could know what light it hid?
Silently and softly falling
Speeding ones to laggards calling
Down to earth those teardrops sped.
And this morn in all its splendor,
Pensive white, so sweetly tender
The glad earth raised its vastal head.

Every blade of grass that lifted
Appealing hands up through the snow;
Every branch and tree that quivered
When the winds around them shivered
Now hung passive in a glow.
For the hand of God had given
Peace to earth so newly shriven;
Thus His blessing soothed the penitent, I know.

The winds and waves obey His word;
He calls life from out of earth’s womb.
He clothes the lilies of the field;
He watches o’er the harvest yield;
I can feel His peaceful presence in my room.
And well I know my steps are led
Unto the living, not the dead
For He promised resurrection from the tomb.

– Circa 1927

Happy! Happy! I am happy!
Happy every day;
When the skies are blue above me;
When they’ve turned to grey.
Happy! Happy! I am happy!
Skies are always blue
For the world is full of sunshine
And the sunshine’s full of you.
Little children laughing gaily
Fill my heart with song.
But it’s just the love of you, dear,
Makes me laugh along.

– Circa 1931

I little thought or little knew
The sky above was quite so blue;
I never saw the harvest sun
Before the Autumn day was done
Until, one still September day
Young sorrow walked beside my way.

Grief followed me where’er I went
She hovered near when day was spent;
I sought the open stretch of blue
To find God’s sunlight stealing thru;
No tongue nor word can ever say
Just how I longed for you that day.

Grief opened up my heart to God,
To heaven and earth, and morning sod;
The doors flung wide, my soul she bared;
More poignant made each joy we’d shared.
September gave and took away
A vision fair, and you, that day
A sense of loss ’tis mine to feel;
A broken heart ’tis hard to heal.

– Circa 1933

He gave me a girdle of roses;
But I found that the wind and the rain
Had planted a thorn mid the blossoms of love
Soon they sprouted and bore fruit again.
Till thorns in my girdle of roses
Outnumbered the blooms two to one;
I found the buds drooping, each pierced by a spike.
They were withered ere life had begun.
As each full blown bloom lost its petals,
And as mutely I watched them decay,
I found but the spark of a wonderful love
That was born on that wonderful day.
For a frown, and a shrug, and a harsh word had been born
From a girdle of roses, the sting of a thorn.

– Circa 1932

I was sitting mid a sea of thoughts.
The door was open wide.
The Spring sunlight was flecking
My attic room, inside.
The curtains swayed and rustled
With springtime’s’ mocking breeze.
The long white highway called me,
The wind among the trees.
A tiny breeze came prancing in
With neither please nor may.
It took possession of my heart;
It made me yearn to stray.
It filled my heart with roving,
It stirred my gypsy blood.
What could I do but hearken?
But answer to the mood?
I left the foot-stool empty;
The kettle bubbling o’er;
I left the sunny attic
And open left the door;
So I followed out the teachings
Of a heart so gypsy free
That nought could ever hold me when
The road is calling me.

– Circa 1926

I wandered thru the woods one day
When Autumn winds were hard at play;
The time when all the birds had flown,
And then I saw the heaven’s hue
Reflected in the fringed blue,
A dew filled gentian all alone.

It seemed to me that God had sent
That blossom as a hope portent
To stop me by the forest wall.
It filled the deep void in my heart,
Became of me a vital part;
The flower of heaven that God let fall.

– Circa 1924

I moulded the figure I would be
Beautiful, and young, and strong, and free.
High up on the mountain peak I stood
Far beneath me, rivers and wood;
Wide worlds to conquer; life seeds to sow
And hearts to start with a warmth and glow.
Ah! Mine was a work that was calling to me
As I moulded the figure that I would be.

Long years have passed since that mountain height
Saw me first in the dawning light;
I’ve kept with the world the truce I made,
I’ve brought the sun; I’ve banished shade.
I have seen skies change from grey to blue,
But time has taken a toll on age too;
For the figure I moulded is as I’d be
If I had kept beautiful, young, strong, and free.

– Circa 1955