The Complete Works of L M Montgomery

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The Complete Works of L M Montgomery Page 773

by L. M. Montgomery

And void,/ Or at least

  The stuff they/ produce

  Is./ They are too lazy

  To hunt up rhymes;

  And that

  Is all

  That is the matter with them.

  The Poems

  Leaskdale Church, Ontario. From 1910 to 1926 the minister was Rev. Ewan Macdonald, Montgomery’s husband. The author wrote many of her famous books while living in the manse.

  LIST OF POEMS IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER

  THE WATCHMAN

  RAIN ALONG SHORE

  SEA SUNSET

  WHEN THE DARK COMES DOWN

  HARBOR MOONRISE

  BEFORE STORM

  ON THE BAY

  SHORE TWILIGHT

  SONG OF THE SEA-WIND

  MORNING ALONG SHORE

  OFF TO THE FISHING GROUND

  IN PORT

  THE GULLS

  SUNRISE ALONG SHORE

  THE SEA SPIRIT

  HARBOR DAWN

  MY LONGSHORE LASS

  WHEN THE FISHING BOATS GO OUT

  THE BRIDAL

  THE SEA TO THE SHORE

  THE VOYAGERS

  TWILIGHT AND I WENT HAND IN HAND

  COME, REST AWHILE

  AN APRIL NIGHT

  RAIN ON THE HILL

  FOR LITTLE THINGS

  SPRING SONG

  A DAY OFF

  THE WIND

  THE WOOD POOL

  DOWN STREAM

  ECHO DELL

  THE ROVERS

  AMONG THE PINES

  A DAY IN THE OPEN

  MIDNIGHT IN CAMP

  THE HILL MAPLES

  A SUMMER DAY

  SEPTEMBER

  IN LOVERS’ LANE

  ON THE HILLS

  AN AUTUMN EVENING

  NOVEMBER EVENING

  OUT O’ DOORS

  IN THE DAYS OF THE GOLDEN ROD

  A WINTER DAY

  TWILIGHT

  THE CALL OF THE WINDS

  A WINTER DAWN

  THE FOREST PATH

  AT NIGHTFALL

  THE TRUCE O’ NIGHT

  TO MY ENEMY

  AS THE HEART HOPES

  TWO LOVES

  THE CHRISTMAS NIGHT

  IN AN OLD FARMHOUSE

  A REQUEST

  MEMORY PICTURES

  DOWN HOME

  THE CHOICE

  TWILIGHT IN THE GARDEN

  MY LEGACY

  GRATITUDE

  FANCIES

  ONE OF THE SHEPHERDS

  IF MARY HAD KNOWN

  AT THE LONG SAULT

  THE EXILE

  THE THREE SONGS

  IN AN OLD TOWN GARDEN

  THE SEEKER

  THE POET’S THOUGHT

  THE CALL

  THE OLD HOME CALLS

  GENIUS

  LOVE’S PRAYER

  THE PRISONER

  COMPANIONED

  YOU

  UNRECORDED

  WITH TEARS THEY BURIED YOU TO-DAY

  IN MEMORY OF “MAGGIE”

  REALIZATION

  THE GARDEN IN WINTER

  THE DIFFERENCE

  THE POET

  THE MOTHER

  TO ONE HATED

  WHILE THE FATES SLEEP

  THE FAREWELL

  THE OLD MAN’S GRAVE

  FOREVER

  BY AN AUTUMN FIRE

  THE MAYFLOWER’S MESSAGE

  APPLE BLOSSOMS

  IN LILAC TIME

  IN HAYING TIME

  AN AUTUMN SHOWER

  WHEN AUTUMN COMES

  THE LAST BLUEBIRD

  THE LULLABY

  NOVEMBER DUSK

  THE FIRST SNOWFALL

  BUTTERCUPS

  ECHO

  THE POND PASTURE

  DROUGHT

  AFTER DROUGHT

  RAIN IN THE COUNTRY

  THE TREE LOVERS

  IN UNTROD WOODS

  THE WILD PLACES

  A PERFECT DAY

  REQUIEM

  IN TWILIGHT FIELDS

  TWILIGHT IN ABEGWEIT

  NIGHT IN THE PASTURES

  NIGHT

  ON THE GULF SHORE

  WHEN THE TIDE GOES OUT

  BEFORE STORM

  THE SANDSHORE IN SEPTEMBER

  HOME FROM TOWN

  IF I WERE HOME

  INTERLUDE

  LAST NIGHT IN DREAMS

  SOUTHERNWOOD,

  THE APPLE-PICKING TIME

  COILING UP THE HAY

  THE GABLE WINDOW

  GRANDMOTHER’S GARDEN

  THE LIGHT IN MOTHER’S EYES

  AN OLD FACE

  AT THE DANCE

  COMPARISONS

  IF LOVE SHOULD COME

  THE PARTING SOUL

  I ASKED OF GOD

  A THANKSGIVING

  WE HAVE SEEN HIS STAR

  COULD WE BUT KNOW

  I WISH YOU

  THE LAND OF SOME DAY

  THE ONLY WAY

  THE REVELATION

  A SMILE

  SUCCESS

  THE TEST

  THE TWO GUESTS

  THE WORDS I DID NOT SAY

  WHICH HAS MORE PATIENCE — MAN OR WOMAN?

  ALL A BOARD FOR DREAMLAND

  THE GRUMBLE FAMILY

  IN TWILIGHT LAND

  THE QUEST OF LAZY-LAD

  UP IN THE POPLARS

  WHAT CHILDREN KNOW

  THE NEW YEAR’S BOOK

  FAREWELL

  ON CAPE LE FORCE

  JUNE!

  LIST OF POEMS IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER

  A DAY IN THE OPEN

  A DAY OFF

  A PERFECT DAY

  A REQUEST

  A SMILE

  A SUMMER DAY

  A THANKSGIVING

  A WINTER DAWN

  A WINTER DAY

  AFTER DROUGHT

  ALL A BOARD FOR DREAMLAND

  AMONG THE PINES

  AN APRIL NIGHT

  AN AUTUMN EVENING

  AN AUTUMN SHOWER

  AN OLD FACE

  APPLE BLOSSOMS

  AS THE HEART HOPES

  AT NIGHTFALL

  AT THE DANCE

  AT THE LONG SAULT

  BEFORE STORM

  BEFORE STORM

  BUTTERCUPS

  BY AN AUTUMN FIRE

  COILING UP THE HAY

  COME, REST AWHILE

  COMPANIONED

  COMPARISONS

  COULD WE BUT KNOW

  DOWN HOME

  DOWN STREAM

  DROUGHT

  ECHO

  ECHO DELL

  FANCIES

  FAREWELL

  FOR LITTLE THINGS

  FOREVER

  GENIUS

  GRANDMOTHER’S GARDEN

  GRATITUDE

  HARBOR DAWN

  HARBOR MOONRISE

  HOME FROM TOWN

  I ASKED OF GOD

  I WISH YOU

  IF I WERE HOME

  IF LOVE SHOULD COME

  IF MARY HAD KNOWN

  IN AN OLD FARMHOUSE

  IN AN OLD TOWN GARDEN

  IN HAYING TIME

  IN LILAC TIME

  IN LOVERS’ LANE

  IN MEMORY OF “MAGGIE”

  IN PORT

  IN THE DAYS OF THE GOLDEN ROD

  IN TWILIGHT FIELDS

  IN TWILIGHT LAND

  IN UNTROD WOODS

  INTERLUDE

  JUNE!

  LAST NIGHT IN DREAMS

  LOVE’S PRAYER

  MEMORY PICTURES

  MIDNIGHT IN CAMP

  MORNING ALONG SHORE

  MY LEGACY

  MY LONGSHORE LASS

  NIGHT

  NIGHT IN THE PASTURES

  NOVEMBER DUSK

  NOVEMBER EVENING

  OFF TO THE FISHING GROUND

  ON CAPE LE FORCE

  ON THE BAY

  ON THE GULF SHORE

  ON THE HILLS

  ONE OF THE SHEPHERDS

  OU
T O’ DOORS

  RAIN ALONG SHORE

  RAIN IN THE COUNTRY

  RAIN ON THE HILL

  REALIZATION

  REQUIEM

  SEA SUNSET

  SEPTEMBER

  SHORE TWILIGHT

  SONG OF THE SEA-WIND

  SOUTHERNWOOD,

  SPRING SONG

  SUCCESS

  SUNRISE ALONG SHORE

  THE APPLE-PICKING TIME

  THE BRIDAL

  THE CALL

  THE CALL OF THE WINDS

  THE CHOICE

  THE CHRISTMAS NIGHT

  THE DIFFERENCE

  THE EXILE

  THE FAREWELL

  THE FIRST SNOWFALL

  THE FOREST PATH

  THE GABLE WINDOW

  THE GARDEN IN WINTER

  THE GRUMBLE FAMILY

  THE GULLS

  THE HILL MAPLES

  THE LAND OF SOME DAY

  THE LAST BLUEBIRD

  THE LIGHT IN MOTHER’S EYES

  THE LULLABY

  THE MAYFLOWER’S MESSAGE

  THE MOTHER

  THE NEW YEAR’S BOOK

  THE OLD HOME CALLS

  THE OLD MAN’S GRAVE

  THE ONLY WAY

  THE PARTING SOUL

  THE POET

  THE POET’S THOUGHT

  THE POND PASTURE

  THE PRISONER

  THE QUEST OF LAZY-LAD

  THE REVELATION

  THE ROVERS

  THE SANDSHORE IN SEPTEMBER

  THE SEA SPIRIT

  THE SEA TO THE SHORE

  THE SEEKER

  THE TEST

  THE THREE SONGS

  THE TREE LOVERS

  THE TRUCE O’ NIGHT

  THE TWO GUESTS

  THE VOYAGERS

  THE WATCHMAN

  THE WILD PLACES

  THE WIND

  THE WOOD POOL

  THE WORDS I DID NOT SAY

  TO MY ENEMY

  TO ONE HATED

  TWILIGHT

  TWILIGHT AND I WENT HAND IN HAND

  TWILIGHT IN ABEGWEIT

  TWILIGHT IN THE GARDEN

  TWO LOVES

  UNRECORDED

  UP IN THE POPLARS

  WE HAVE SEEN HIS STAR

  WHAT CHILDREN KNOW

  WHEN AUTUMN COMES

  WHEN THE DARK COMES DOWN

  WHEN THE FISHING BOATS GO OUT

  WHEN THE TIDE GOES OUT

  WHICH HAS MORE PATIENCE — MAN OR WOMAN?

  WHILE THE FATES SLEEP

  WITH TEARS THEY BURIED YOU TO-DAY

  YOU

  The Non-Fiction

  Montgomery’s Toronto home, her last

  COURAGEOUS WOMEN

  Lucy Maud Montgomery collaborated with Marian Keith and Mabel Burns McKinley on Courageous Women, published by McClelland & Stewart in 1934. Its 21 essays feature notable women who made significant impact in a variety of spheres and careers, including education, politics, the arts, medical and missionary work and in the war effort. Although Montgomery’s name appears first on the title page, she apparently wrote only three of the chapters, which appear as the first three chapters, dealing with Joan of Arc, Florence Nightingale, and Mary Slessor of Calabar.

  A first edition copy of Courageous Women

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER I. THE MAID OF FRANCE: JOAN OF ARC

  CHAPTER II. THE ANGEL OF THE CRIMEA: FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE

  CHAPTER III. THE GREAT WHITE MA: MARY SLESSOR OF CALABAR

  CHAPTER IV. A BRAVE DEED: LAURA SECORD

  CHAPTER V. HAPPINESS IN A LOG-CABIN: CATHARINE PARR TRAILL

  CHAPTER VI. A NOBLE GIRL QUEEN: QUEEN VICTORIA

  CHAPTER VII. COURAGE IN DANGER: MADELEINE DE VERCHÈRES

  CHAPTER VIII. FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT: HELEN KELLER

  CHAPTER IX. A FRIEND OF THE SCHOOL: ADA MAY COURTICE

  CHAPTER X. THE GOLDEN CHRYSANTHEMUM: CAROLINE MACDONALD

  CHAPTER XI. A LOYAL PIONEER OF THE WEST: ELIZABETH LOUISE MAIR

  CHAPTER XII. CARING FOR INDIANS: ANNA J. GAUDIN

  CHAPTER XIII. A WAR HEROINE: EDITH CAVELL

  CHAPTER XIV. BRAVING THE WHITE NORTH: SADIE STRINGER

  CHAPTER XV. CANADA’S QUEEN OF SONG: MADAME ALBANI

  CHAPTER XVI. THE PRINCESS OF THE PADDLE: (TEKAHIONWAKE) PAULINE JOHNSON

  CHAPTER XVII. A LEADER IN EDUCATION: ALETTA ELISE MARTY

  CHAPTER XVIII. A PUPIL AT SCHOOL: DR. MARGARET MACKELLAR

  CHAPTER XIX. A DAUGHTER OF THE EMPIRE: MARGARET POLSON MURRAY

  CHAPTER XX. SERVICE FOR OTHERS: LADY TILLEY

  CHAPTER XXI. CHAMPION OF DUMB ANIMALS: MARSHALL SAUNDERS

  A portrait of Lucy Maud Montgomery

  CHAPTER I. THE MAID OF FRANCE: JOAN OF ARC

  Sometime around the year 1412 a little peasant maid was born in Domremy, a country village of eastern France. Before her was a strange fate. She was to live for a few brief years and in those years she was to change the current of history.

  Joan’s father was a poor farmer. But there was something in the mother that might partially explain Joan. The wife of James d’Arc was nicknamed Isobel Romée—”the woman who had been to Rome.” She had sufficient religious fervor to make the long and dangerous pilgrimage to Rome to see the Pope. What that meant only those who know the condition of Europe at the time can realize.

  We do not know what Joan looked like. There are more pictures of her than of any other woman except the Virgin Mary but they are all imaginary. We know she had coal-black hair and she must have been a strapping lass when she could wear the heavy armour of the period and get about in it. No slender, dreamy, ethereal maiden, such as some artists represent her, could have done that. She could plough, too, and tend sheep, as all her chums could. She was normally a gay, gallant little soul, warmhearted, impulsive, kind to the poor and sick, with a tang of humor and a bit of a temper and a ready tongue. Thus we see the little Joan of that pleasant remote valley, with the long wooded hills on either side, its white sheep, and its white stars of wild strawberry blossoms.

  Joan grew up like the other little peasants of her village. She never learned to read or write, but she could spin and sew beautifully. She was a friendly lass, and liked to play with other children in the beautiful woods near the village; only when they hung garlands on the Oak of the Fairies, Joan slipped away and laid hers beneath the statues of the saints in the little village church, especially those of St. Catherine and St. Margaret. When the boys and girls ran races Joan ran, too, and outstripped them all. But times came when she liked to be quiet and pray alone in the church. And the thing she prayed for most earnestly was that God might have pity on France.

  France needed it. That unhappy land was torn and distracted. For a hundred years the kings of England had been trying to conquer it. There was no king — only the heir apparent, called the Dauphin. He had never been crowned because eight years before, when Henry of England married the Princess Katherine of France, the French, worn out with ceaseless war, had agreed to accept Henry V’s son as their ruler instead of the son of their old king. But all the French were not in favor of this and soon France was divided into two parties. One was for the Dauphin. The other, including the Duke of Burgundy, sided with the English. Civil war ensued, and whichever party was temporarily uppermost, the country people were plundered. The land was full of marauding bands of soldiers. Whole towns fell into decay, and roads grew over with grass. There was no peace anywhere. Even the very children were on opposite sides and fought pitched battles — except in Domremy where everybody was in favor of the Dauphin.

  But there were two things that worked against the Dauphin and his chances of ever being firmly seated on the throne of his fathers. The first was that he had never been crowned in Rheims cathedral. No Dauphin was ever held to be really King of France unless he had been anointed with the sacred oil in Rheims cathedral. But Rheims was in the power of the English and there you were. The second, and worst, was the Dauphin
himself. He was anything but a hero of romance. He had spindle-shanks and a bulbous nose; he was weak and superstitious, forever blown this way and that way by all the opinions around him. He was a coward and wanted to run away to Spain or Scotland. Hardly a ruler worth fighting for, one would think. But there was something else at stake with him — the rescue of France from foreign bondage. And that was why Joan was praying for him in the little gray church in Domremy.

  When Joan was thirteen she began to hear her “voices.” Scientific men have been arguing for hundreds of years about those “voices” and coming to no agreement. But there is no doubt whatever that Joan herself firmly believed she heard them. One summer day in her father’s garden she saw a great light, like a shining cloud, and a voice told her to go out and save France from the English. Later on she saw St. Catherine and St. Margaret and the Archangel Michael. And they all told her the same thing. This went on for four years.

  At first she was terrified and unwilling. Like the child she was, she cried. She did not see what she could do. She was only a poor girl who could not lead soldiers to war. And things were going from bad to worse with the unlucky Dauphin. By this time he held France only south of the Loire. He was so poor he could hardly afford a new pair of boots for his ill-shaped feet. But Orléans was still true to the Dauphin and as long as he held it his case was not hopeless. The English besieged it; if they could take it they would be masters of all France. And nobody knew anything or anybody to prevent them taking it.

  Enter Joan!

  Joan was seventeen. In far away Domremy she heard of the siege of Orléans. Her voices kept telling her she must go and drive the English away. They told her to go to a nearby town, Vaucouleurs, and ask the commander there, Robert de Baudricourt, to send her to the Dauphin. When she saw him she was to tell him she had come to save France. Beautifully simple.

  Joan went to an uncle — probably she knew if she went to her father she would be spanked. Girls of seventeen were quite often treated in that way in the France of the middle ages. She told her uncle that she must go to the Dauphin and that Robert de Baudricourt must lend her a small guard of soldiers for the journey. What is strange is that her uncle believed her. What is not strange is that Robert didn’t. He laughed at the notion and told her uncle to take the half-witted creature home and box her ears.

  Joan did not stay home. She came again. Eventually Robert lent her the guard. Perhaps she had convinced him. Joan had a strange power of convincing people. Or perhaps he thought it the easiest way to get rid of her.

  Joan, all through her career, showed herself to be possessed of the sort of glorified common sense which sees the right thing to do and does it. She doffed her red serge dress, cut her black hair short, and donned a boy’s suit. It was, as I have said, the sensible thing to do in such a land under such conditions, and consequently it set everyone in church and state by the ears and did more than all else to bring Joan to the stake.

 

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