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Puedo ~ico IN PICTURES AND POETRY

COURTESY OF THE 1NSTITUTE OF TOURISM ENRIQUE OR€EGA.'0 cfdr SAN ASAN Dt1Et9O t+CO

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CYNTHIA PEARL MAUS author of YOUTH AND CREATIVE LIVING CHRIST AND THE FINE ARTS

r t Photograph by Stuckert, tinted by Mrs. F. W. Horne

Orchids in Puerto Rico

Pueto Rico t

IN PICTURES AND POETRY

CYNTHIA PEARL MAUS

An Anthology of Beauty on America's "Paradise of the Atlantic"

THE CAXTON PRINTERS, LTD. CALDWELL, IDAHO 1941

Lithographed and bound in the United States of America by The CAXTON PRINTERS, Ltd. Caldwell, Idaho 56530

Dedicated to the poets and artists of Puerto Rico whose enthusiastic co-operation has made possible this anthology

TABLE OF CONTENTS Page is

Introduction Entering San Juan Harbor, Author Unknown

Borinquén, Rafael Rivera Otéro

The Haunted Sentry Box, Lillian Cannon Collier

San Christobel, Muna Lee

Borinquén Sunrise across Candado Bay, Elizabeth Kneipple Roberts

Nocturne, Lillian Cannon Collier

Los Caballitos Blancos, Sarah Palmer Colmore

Puerto Rico, José Gautiér Benitez

Night Winds' Oratorios, Author Unknown

A Spanish Home, Esther Turner Wellman

Powder Puffs, Sarah Palmer Colmore

Shadows, Cecil E. Stevens

A Tropical Moon on Good Friday, Cynthia Pearl Maus

Palm Groves, Elizabeth Kneipple Roberts

El Yunque, Cecil E. Stevens

Moonlight,Reflections, José A. Franquíz

The Mountains Know, Cóncha Meléndez

The Flamboyant, Grace Spencer Phillips

The Flamboyant, Cecil E. Stevens

Flamboyant Trees, Elizabeth Kneipple Roberts ______

Flamboyan, Sarah Palmer Colmore

From Guayama to Cayay, Author Unknown

Crosses against a Tropic Sky, Sarah Palmer Colmore

The Southern Cross, Sarah Palmer Colmore

Page 76

Democracy, Esther Turner Wellman

Into the Slums, Nathan H. Huff man

The Wind, Cecil E. Stevens

Psalm, José A. Franquíz

Puerto Rico, José A. Balséiro

Night on the Old Sea Wall, Elizabeth Kneippie Roberts

Meditation of a Royal Palm, Cecil E. Stevens

Boys March, Esther Turner Wellman

Rich Port, Muna Lee

101

Nocturne, Esther Turner Wellman

105

Night, Esther Turner Wellman

106

A Tropic Requiem, Sarah Palmer Colmore

109

A Song of Dreams Come True, Muna Lee

111

Orchids, Sarah Palmer Co/more

113

The Temple, Elizabeth Kneippie Roberts

115

The Traveler's Palm, Cecil E. Stevens

119

The Traveler's Palm, Cynthia Pearl Maus

120

Caribbean Fantasy, Muna Lee

123

Sensations of Fatherland, José A. Balséiro

125

A Father, Cecil E. Stevens

129

Twilight Silhouettes, Cynthia Pearl Maus

131

Cataño, Lillian Cannon Collier

132

Bamboo, Nathan H. Huffman

135

Caribbean Noon, Muna Lee

139

Hacienda, Muna Lee

141

Puerto Rico at Sunset, Sarah Palmer Co/more

143

The Sea, Cecil E. Stevens

Page 145

Carmencita, Elizabeth Kneippie Roberts

149

Acacia, Muna Lee

153

Cane Fields, Lillian Cannon Collier

15 5

Arrows, Sarah Palmer Colmore

156

The Bells of Guaynabo, Cecil E. Stevens

159

Coquí!, Sarah Palmer Colmore

161

Coquí, Cecil E. Stevens

162

The Steps, Nathan H. Huffman

165

The Polytechnic Hills

166

Punta Alcatraz, Muna Lee

169

The Spectator, Muna Lee

171

Don Henry, Muna Lee

172

Puerto Rico, William S. Kenney

175

APPENDIX: Who's Who among Contributing Poets and Artists

179

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

189

INDEX OF POETRY BY AUTHORS AND TITLES

193

INDEX OF ARTISTS CONTRIBUTING ILLUSTRATIONS

195

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Map of Puerto Rico trade routes Orchids in Puerto Rico

Endsheets Frontispiece Page

-___

_____

The ancient citadel of El Morro 24 The haunted sentry box, San Cristóbel 28 _ Candado skyline at sunrise 30 Sea waves at night —Los Caballitos Blancos 34 La Plata Valley 36 — 40 Coconut palms beside the sea The world-famed Casa Blanca at San Juan 42 A cloudy sky at dawn — 44 The humble but of the Jibero — 46 Moonlit cross in the hills 50 Palm groves in the evening 54 El Yunque Mountain 56 58 Moonlight reflections 60 Dos Bocas Mountains — 64 The flamboyant, or royal poinciana, tree in summer 70 Puerto Rico's winding highways Crosses against a tropic sky—San Juan Cathedral 75 Symbol of Democracy—Puerto Rico's $7,500,000 Capitol 78 80 Homes of the poor in San German 84 Winds and clouds in Puerto Rico The majesty of Puerto Rico's mountains 88 92 A Moorish gate on the old sea wall, San Juan 94 The royal palm in meditation 98 Coast defense maneuvers 100 San Juan's magnificent shore line 13

Page 104 Nocturne in Puerto Rico _____________________ _ 108 A tropic requiem _ 112 orchids of Puerto Rico The 114 God's templed trees 118 The traveler's palm 122 "Vista de Aguadilla," by Rafaél Arróyo Gély 124 Siesta time in Puerto Rico -_--------------128 A Puerto Rican funeral among the humbler class _____ 130 A fisherman home-wending from the sea The stately bamboo tree, Costello Hall, San Germán ______ 134 "Puerto Rico: Harbor Minnows," Walt Dehner _ ______ 138 Resting the oxen in Don Efrén's field ________________________ 140 ______ 142 — Sunset at San Juan ----------------144 A tropical sea at sunrise Dawn breaks over the mountains and in Carmencita's 148 home Chapel at Porta Coeli with acacia trees in the back152 — ground 154 Sugar cane in bloom in Puerto Rico 158 Temple bells in the village plaza 160 Garden pools of Casa Blanca, where the coquí hides Symbolic memorial steps, Polytechnic Institute, San 164 Germán 169 "Muralla," by Rafaél D. Palácios 170 "The Spectator" _ _____________ 174 Street scene in San Juan

INTRODUCTION Now and then, one has the privilege of spending a winter in a spot so entrancingly beautiful, that not to share its heritage of beauty with someone else seems sacrilegious. Such a spot is the island of Puerto Rico, in which the compiler of this anthology was privileged to spend the winter of 1939-40. Puerto Rico, sometimes called the "Paradise of the Atlantic," was discovered by Columbus on November 19, 1493, on his second voyage to the then New World. His little fleet came to safe anchorage off the shore where Aguadilla now stands, and he and his small band of pioneers took possession of this island in the name of the Crown Prince of Spain. Thus this little island, that may someday come to be known as the forty-ninth state, is the only soil under the American flag on which Columbus actually set foot. With Christopher Columbus on that memorable day was Ponce de Leon, whose quest for the "fountain of eternal youth" led to his later explorations on the mainland in what is now known as Florida. However, Ponce de Leon was the colonizer of Puerto Rico and its first governor, and his remains lie buried today in the Cathedral of San Juan. The island of Puerto Rico is only about a hundred miles long by thirty-five miles wide, yet, like 15

many other early Spanish colonies in the Caribbean, it soon became the object of concerted attacks by the enemies of Spain, as well as by roving bands of pirates and freebooters. In 1528 the French successfully landed a party that sacked and burned the town of San Germán. The erection of the great Fortaleza at San Juan was authorized at that time, but actual work on the structure was not begun until 1533. Ten years later San Germán was again attacked and burned by the French. In 1576 the French again assaulted the city, but were defeated. In 1595 Sir Francis Drake approached San Juan in quest of a rich deposit of gold and silver bullion, but was repulsed after three days of hard fighting. Three years later - the British, with a large fleet, landed a thousand men at Santurce and fought their way into the city, forcing the surrender of El Morro, only to lose control later. The Dutch attacked the city in 1625 unsuccessfully, being forced to raise their siege of El Morro after their leader was badly wounded in a hand-tohand combat with the Spanish commandant. At other times, various pirates and freebooters, including Morgan, Cook, Grand, Captain Kidd, and others, attacked the city of San Juan or pounced upon galleons laden with Puerto Rico's treasures en route to Mexico or Spain. Harvey and Abercrombie, famous English 16

privateers, with eight thousand troops, made a final attempt to conquer Puerto Rico in 1797, but they, too, were repulsed after hard fighting and the loss of many lives. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, Spain, realizing that she had lost most of her continental colonies, began to direct her attention to Puerto Rico, whose strategic location made this little island of increasing value as a port of trade. Slavery was abolished in 1873. The colony had been granted representation at the Spanish Cortes in 1869, but with the change of government this privilege was revoked some five years later. It was not until as late as 1897 that Puerto Rico was granted a modified form of self-government. Before the new government could be fully organized, however, war was declared between Spain and the United States, and on October 19, 1898, the United States took formal possession of the island, with Major General Brooks as military governor. Since the American occupation of Puerto Rico, this island has gradually forged ahead to a prominent position in the commerce of the world. It lies in the direct line of trade, not only between North and South America but also between European countries and the Western Hemisphere. (See endsheets. ) Puerto Rico is one of Uncle Sam's best cus17

tomers, since it buys more of the products of the United States than any other country in the Americas except Canada. It has an area of only 343 S square miles, yet its population is over a million and a half, and is steadily increasing. It must be remembered that Puerto Rico was colonized more than a hundred years before the Pilgrims landed in Massachusetts.. This little island has many unusual characteristics. Because of the trade winds, Puerto Rico has both a tropical and semitropical climate. It is the most mountainous island in the South Atlantic. When Columbus was asked to describe it, he crumpled up in his hand an oblong piece of paper, and then threw it down on the table, saying, That is Puerto Rico." It is in reality the summit of a submerged mountain range. The ocean depth immediately to the north of Puerto Rico is one of the two deepest places in the seven seas, soundings there having reached a depth of six miles. In the mountains of Puerto Rico there are about a hundred varieties of orchids, several of which are found nowhere else in all the world. The dense forest at the summit of El Yunque Mountain in Puerto Rico has been declared by Dr. Britten, a famous naturalist, to be the finest example of a rain forest on earth. On El Yunque, 18

also, giant fern trees twenty feet or more in height may be seen. The flamboyant, or royal poinciana, trees are more numerous and beautiful in Puerto Rico than anywhere else in the world; and during the season of their fullness, June and July, you may drive for miles and miles through bowers of them along the highways—an experience that has been likened to passing through a tunnel of living fire, because the branches meet over the roadway, and scarlet petals cover the highways like the lifeblood of fallen heroes. Fortunate, indeed, is the visitor who catches his first glimpse of Puerto Rico at sunrise. For at that time both land and sea are glorified with the indescribable beauty of a tropical sunrise, and the air is cooled by the morning breeze. In the distance mountain peaks are faintly discernible, and very soon the morning's light will be reflected by the dome of Puerto Rico's $7,500,000 capitol building. Ancient El Morro stands grim and picturesque as the guardian of San Juan, rising high above the brilliant coloring of the harbor waters. Soon your ship will glide by Casa Blanca and the Governor's Palace, and then the full beauty of the city with its 137,215 inhabitants is revealed. One almost gasps at the loveliness of this first glimpse of Puerto Rico's largest city. Palm trees, flowering shrubs, marble benches, and brilliantly colored buildings are 19

everywhere in view. Spanish architecture prevails, with here and there a sprinkling of American houses in contrast, for Puerto Rico is a strange mixture of modern and primitive life. No trip to Puerto Rico is complete that does not include a rim drive of the entire island, from which the waving, feathery bloom of the sugar cane, in season, may be seen. Pineapple groves line the hillsides; banana, platano, and mango trees are everywhere; the tobacco plant adds its beauty to the rugged slopes, while coffee, orange, and grapefruit add their fragrance to the air. But to see the most rugged and beautiful mountain scenery one must cross the island many times by various routes. Every month of the year brings into bloom some flowering tree or shrub of exquisite beauty—the roble, the gorgeous tulip tree, the bucare, and the flamboyant being among the island's most highly colored flowering trees. Flowers and gorgeously colored plants are everywhere in profusion. Hibiscus, bougainvillaea, poinsettia, orchids, lilies, hydrangeas, gladioli, roses, crotons, and a host of other blooming shrubs and plants too numerous to mention perfume the air. Land of mountains, rugged and beautiful; land of flowering trees and plants, brilliant and colorful; land of orange blossoms and citrus greens; land of almond trees and coconut palms, with here and there the stately Australian pine and royal palm to 20

add dignity and grandeur to the view—this is Puerto Rico. The island is, indeed, a paradise for poets, for artists, for storytellers, for musicians, and for all others who love color and contrast, lights and shadows, mountains and seas, flowers and trees, where Nature puts on a new dress every time you look at her and flaunts her beauty unashamed for all to see. Since the poets portray for us, perhaps better than anyone else, the heart of a people, while artists and camera devotees picture for us Nature's entrancing beauty, the author of this little volume has brought together some of the most beautiful descriptive poems by Puerto Rican authors, and others who have lived long enough in the island to absorb its matchless charm, and illustrated them by artistic views that present the island's transcendent beauty. And she sends out to you Puerto Rico in Pictures and Poetry, that she may share with you the afterglow of a winter in America's "Isle of Enchantment." May you come to love and appreciate its beauty and its people, as she has come to love and to appreciate them during her brief sojourn in this "Paradise of the Atlantic." —Cynthia Pearl Maus Springtime, 1940.

PUERTO RICO Isle of mystery, sweet and still; Isle of movement with power to will; Isle of memories, ages old, Isle of a nation, young, yet old. —William S. Kenney

Photograph by Stuckert

The ancient citadel of El Morro guarding San Juan Harbor

ENTERING SAN JUAN HARBOR Like unto a dream fulfilled into the light, A web of delicate color, and slow streams Of iridescence that in morning's beams Invest the waiting world—so to my sight Came this long curving bay; these mountains bright With shaded blues and amaranthine gleams; These hills primeval that man, meseems, Has never marred; these palms of slender might. But more insistent e'en than all of these The haughty Morro, frowning Christobel, Did rise from out the ocean by degrees And strive in hoary pride their tale to tell— Built but for strength, protection to all seas, Now boast they higher claims of beauty's spell. —Author unknown

BORINQUÉN (Indian name for Puerto Rico)

On the pirate roads of the Spanish Main, Among sunny islands of sugar cane, In the whirling path of the hurricane. Lies Borinquén. Miles deep, from its grave of water and sand Atlantis throws skyward its mighty hand, And one finger tip—a privileged land— Is Borinquén. As your blossomed fields greet my loving eye I remember some of the days when I, Travel-bent, have wished to bid you good-by, My Borinquén. And I feel the wandering soul who seems With one furtive glance at your sunny gleams To retain forever enraptured dreams Of Borinquén. But Fate plays with her, like a silent boy Toiling friendless hours with his fondest toy, And Fate never gives one full hour of joy To Borinquén.

She hides with a smile the wake of a tear. Blue seas, a tropical fragrance, a clear Laughing sun, laughing skies, bless my dear Sweet Borinquén. When my life is torn from the things that are, With my soul at rest on the brightest star, Piercing nebulae, I'll look from afar Toward Borinquén. And if ever after, Mother Earth, I do From the starry clusters come again to you, Bless me with the joys of being born anew In Borinquén. —Rafaél Rivera Otéro

Photograph by Stuckert

The Haunted Sentry Box, San Cristóbel

THE HAUNTED SENTRY BOX A dark and secret thing was here, Unholy, dim with years, Haunting you through the centuries With old, forgotten fears. Your empty eyes are staring now Upon the Spanish Main, Brooding on deeds of bitterness, Remembering terror and pain. Silence is part of the very stones That hold your mystery fast. . . . A little boat goes sailing by Where once the galleons passed. —Lillian Cannon Collier SAN CHRISTOBEL Vivid and still in the moon, The almonds forget the breeze; Red flowers droop from the cactus hedge, Red leaves from the mango trees. Incredibly blue is the sea, Incredibly blue is the sky; And above a wall four centuries old Drifts a yellow butterfly. —Muna Lee 29

Photograph by Thompson

Candado skyline at sunrise

BORINQUÉN SUNRISE ACROSS CANDADO BAY (Sonnet)

Sometimes I wake as though I had been called By some commanding voice from out of Heav'n, And still with dreams and calm sleep half enthralled, I rise and throw the casement wide, and then I know why men seek God: The whole great world Spreads there before my eyes afresh with morn; Across the palm-fringed bay I see unfurled A radiant tapestry which, to adorn The sky, in matchless folds by angel hands Is hung. Rich-colored, its bright hues dismay The earthly artist who all speechless stands And wishes he might dip his brush where they Lie mirrored in the placid bay. The sun Then suddenly rolls up and the day's begun. —Elizabeth Kneipple Roberts

NOCTURNE (Candado) Does Sappho linger in the dusk upon this shore To watch the ultimate gleam of Phaon's sail? See how the waves scarcely stir beneath winds, sighing For a love that is ended and a sail vanished forever; Beyond those rocks where lovers dreamed through the twilight, Palms, with high serenity, await the darkness, And cypresses, slender and proud, lean away from the sea, Moving as shadows across an early moon. . . . He will never return! You know and you do not weep? What is the sound that breaks through silence and despair? Oh, memory of grief from a thousand years ago! Oh, sails forever lost to eyes straining through darkness! The winds are still and light fades upon the water. . . . Turn from the sea, now, for nothing remains. —Lillian Cannon Collier

Photograph by Stuckert

Sea waves at night—Los Caballitos Blancos

LOS CABALLITOS BLANCOS (The Little White Horses) Written from our sea porch in the Candado.

In the salt stillness of a tropic night We stood beside the sea. The magic of a full moon's light Worked eerie witchery. Vaulting the reef's rough rocky wall, Galloping swift and fleet, Snow-white steeds at a moonbeam's call Raced to our very feet. We saw them gaily prancing Across a silver sea; The wavelets joined them dancing In summer's revelry. Some say 'twas idle dreaming— A Spanish fantasy! But we? We saw them gleaming, White horses of the sea. —Sarah Palmer Colmore

Photograph by Thompson

La Plata Valley

PUERTO RICO

i I

BORINQUÉN! Name as sweet to the thought As is the memory of a deep love! Beautiful garden, the ornament of America— America, which is the garden of the world! Pearl that the sea shook from its shell With the dashing of its joyous waves; Heron asleep amid the white foam Of the snowy belt that girdles your shores; You, that give to the sea breeze, When kissed by its breath, The graceful plumage of your palm groves; You, that seem, amid the mist, To the pilgrim arriving on your shores, A fantastic city of foam, Formed by the mermaidens in sport; An enchanted garden, Above the waters of the sea, which you rule; A vase of flowers, swaying Among foam and coral, perfumes and pearls; You, that at evening pour over the sea, With the colors that your sunset put on, Another ocean of floating flames; You, that give me the air I breathe, And life, and the song that breaks forth of its own accord! 37

Of this (American) world, you are the most beautiful fragment, O my fatherland! broken off and flung into the sea By a violent cataclysm. But you brought only the beauty of the vast continent, Without copying its pomp, or the terrors of its greatness. Upon your mountains, neither the tiger, the lion, nor the jaguar Utters its fierce and terrifying cry, Nor does the boa constrictor coil upon the plains, Nor does the untamed and savage alligator Disturb the pure, transparent water Of your gentle rivers. . Nor do your mountains, shaken upon their foundations, Sound with sudden tumult, When, with hoarse, titanic breathing, Orizaba and Cotopaxi roar. No Niagara makes your soil tremble With the fall of its immense cataract, Where Iris, painter of heaven, Joins to its borders of shining silver, Gold and crimson, purple and topaz, While the condor, monarch of space, Mirrors himself proudly in its crystal;

You have—the sugar cane on the fertile savannah, A lake of honey that undulates in the breeze, While the foam of its graceful beard Sways like a white plume. And the palm that rocks in the air Encloses in its hanging jar The pure liquid of its aerial fountain: And on the broad slope of your forests, Where the cedar and the pendola reign, Shines the charming garland of the coffee tree, From the bent branch of which the berries of crimson and emerald Bow to the ground. You have your delightful nights, That foretell to the heart happy love; And murmuring springs of silver In a garden of lilies and roses; Turtledoves that complain in the forests, Like sorrowful sighs; Doves and troupials and mockingbirds, That nest in the flowering limes. In you, everything is happy and light, Sweet, peaceful, caressing, and mild; And your inner world owes its enchantment To the sweet influence of the world without! —José Gautiér Benitez

Photograph byStuckert

Coconut palms beside the sea

NIGHT WINDS' ORATORIOS The heavens declare the glory of God. And the firmament showeth His handiwork.—Psalms 19:1.

I love the ancient gospel of these trees. The night winds' reverent oratorios, The birds' amen in pauses of the breeze, The surpliced lilies preaching in soft flows With cadenced incense or slow litanies. But more to me, perchance, the august breath Of ocean with the pathos of a story Revealed in all its roars or murmureth Of beauty, mystery, of power, of glory: The sea but echoes what the Eternal saith. —Author unknown

Photoyr¢ph by Stuokert

The world-famed Casa Blanca at San Juan

A SPANISH HOME I love a Spanish home Where lonely fountains cry, And where the inner patio Looks up to greet the sky. Where scarlet roses blossom To decorate the hair Of every señorita Who makes her dwelling there! I love the Moorish bars Through which I drop a rose; Where a soft guitar Tells a lover's woes. I love a Spanish home With ivy-covered stairs That lead up to the roof, Where I may breathe old prayers, And sleep . . . and dream old dreams, While Moonlight combs her hair And drops a silver mist On those who worship there. For nowhere else does Moonlight Dare make such bold advance, As on old Spanish walls Vined in deep romance. —Esther Turner Wellman 43

Photograph by Stuckert

A cloudy sky at dawn

POWDER PUFFS This morning when the Lady Moon Looked out upon the sky, And thought to get it swept up soon Of cloud dust floating by, Quite suddenly she turned about And what do you suppose? Some naughty star-maids still were out, Each powdering her nose! The Lady Moon then used her broom Across the sky in swirls, And sent them flying to their room, These giddy, gay star-girls. Each impish star-maid, from the door, As she entered in a huff, Upon the tidy, blue sky-floor Threw her cloudlet powder puff. —Sarah Palmer Colmore

Photograph by Stucicert

The humble but of the Jibero

SHADOWS Shadows of bamboo With lacy leaves Traced upon the ground, Speak to each other Of the golden noon and Tell queer tales Of things that happened Long ago. Near is a simple but Of palm boards; the Flickering candle Casts odd shapes Upon the wall; As the tired mother, Holding in her arms Her little one, Swings in the Hammock to and f ro, And tells the world In plaintive tune that He who has no cow No milk shall drink.

Shadows upon the brightness Of life, Poverty with its Checkered shade; Yet bringing into high relief All the beauty God has made. —Cecil E. Stevens

Photograph by Thompson

Moonlit cross in the hills

A TROPICAL MOON ON GOOD FRIDAY A 1940 Good Friday meditation from the mountainside worship shrine at McLean Conference Grounds, Puerto Rico.

Tropical moon, how you glow tonight, High o'er the mountains, luminous, bright, Telling earth's children, from near and afar, Gad watches o'er them like yon evening star. This is Good Friday, and years, years ago In a land that's far distant Your mellow light glowed on a cross That was empty and naked, where He, The world's blessed Saviour, Once hung on a tree— Dying that men might forevermore know God's love, like the moonlight, steadfastly Does glow on all of His creatures— The high and the low, the rich and the naked, The sick and the well, the saint and the sinner— Christ died for them all, Shedding His life's blood as suspended He hung, there on Golgotha Till Black Friday was done. Luminous moon, as you shine tonight O'er earth's weary children in lands near and far, May your silver beams teach this strife-ridden world His calmness, serenity, patience, and love51

Love that will sheathe every sword in the land And make of men, brothers, whose hearts understand The hearts of each other, and who answer the call Of the Christ—"That they all may be one, as we, Father, are one," in the unity of spirit, And in the bonds of peace and love. —Cynthia Pearl Maus

Palm groves in the evening

PhotograpR b≥t 5!a- lrcrr

PALM GROVES Morning I have seen a palm grove When early horizontal sunrays, Streaming through the window of dawn, Turned it to a gorgeous mosque, With dark bare floors And shadowy arches far above, And slender gilded columns Leading back and back into the mist To some dim distant portal. . . . Evening And I have seen a palm grove Shot through and through With the multiple glory of sunset Which, like a splendid stained-glass window, Rose at one end of its vast columned nave, Down whose lengths, through deepening shadows, I have watched the myriad star-candles Lighted, one by one, On its far blue altar. —Elizabeth Kneipple Roberts

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EL YUNQUE The Indians called me Their God, because the sun's First beams touch My crest. They fashioned for worship An idol of stone With a face at one end like my own. The Spaniards called me The anvil," up against the sky, And the wind was the giant Who used the forge To fashion the lightning by, And send thunderbolts rolling Like cannon balls on high. The jíbero calls me "The forest" and thanks his Gods for my palms, For I furnish the useful yaguas That protect his folk From all harm. Well have I served my people; The rivers that fall from my crest Are full of gold for the taking; The land which I guard is blessed. —Cecil E. Stevens 57

Photograph by Morgan Moonlight reflections

MOONLIGHT REFLECTIONS Looking out my window, I have seen the moonlight Shining on the tower. The memory of Him Has made me forget My shadowland of earnest men. . . . "Let not your heart be troubled." . . . And while my comrades Have passed thoughtlessly Through this world; I have intensely Enjoyed my life Hour by hour Thinking of Him. . . ! . . . "I have overcome

the world.". . . —José A. Franquíz "God never publishes His miracles. He improvises them before us. Because of this we never hear a tree grow, a flower open, a Spring come." —José A. Franquíz 59

Photograph bU Thorn poon

Dos Bocas Mountains

THE MOUNTAINS KNOW I love my country's lofty mountains! Here, where all is soft and quiet, They are untamed. They are the symbol of a hidden power That germinates through the ages. Sometimes the storm bursts upon their summits; Into their virgin bosom the dew shakes its tears; The sun surrounds them with a thousand halos; The mist offers them fantastic kisses; But they lift their foreheads Unmoved before the mysteries that life contains, Before men's struggles and petty ambitions, Which are nothing, if seen across unfathomable Infinite eternity. The mountains, near by, are like a glowing hope; And from afar, like a maiden's dream, Floating in the blue distance. Why do they rise thoughtful and serene? Because they know many things unknown to us; And in the nights full of blossoms, The stars have told them the shining destinies Of all the islands: The great old past of the Isles of Greece, The great new future that awaits the Antilles; 61

Of the genius of a victorious race, The great deeds of Latin America, The hymn of the peoples that are unfurling, One and many at the same time, the banner of Bolivar's dream! The mountains know it, The mountains lofty and unmoved! —Cóncha Meléndez

Photograph by Stuckert, tinted by Mrs. F. W. Horne

The flamboyant, or royal poinciana, tree in summer

THE FLAMBOYANT (Sonnet VI) The flamboyant now mournfully does rue Its flaming name, a travesty; one sees A gray-brown tree 'gainst summer skies of blue. Its branches flaunt no green, as other trees— Only a few dead pods, mid sun and dew, Echo a ghostly rattle in the breeze. On mountainside and road in guise untrue It bows its head in shame; it fails to please. But hold! A feathery leaf appears, perchance, And shy, reluctant blossoms come to sight, The prelude to a burst of radiance That soars, and sings a song of sheer delight. Transfigured into vibrant, glorious flame, The tree triumphantly avows its name. —Grace Spencer Phillips

THE FLAMBOYANT Fire of God, that blazes from bare boughs And makes a burning altar to the sky, While underneath the tree the petals fall And lie like gleaming rubies! O tree of beauty! Would our hearts could tell The wordless ecstasy you bring, As we stand mute before this gift from God— A flowering flame tree, rising from the sod! —Cecil E. Stevens

FLAMBOYANT TREES In tropic spring The flamboyants are red, red, red— Everywhere a flaming, brilliant red! Here they carelessly shed rubies From their graceful scarlet arches Where they canopy the road As for a king; There they set a costly mansion In a frame of crimson splendor Or in some poor peasant's dooryard Riches fling Till it seems the heart of Nature Has been opened wide to scatter Its bright ruddy drops afar Such wealth to bring. Oh! red, red, red bloom of gay flamboyants, Everywhere a flaming, brilliant red In tropic spring, In Puerto Rico. —Elizabeth Kneipple Roberts

FLAMBOYAN Trailing down the mountain roads in gown of flaming red, The Lady of the Tropics lifts high her queenly head. Her regal crimson mantle is seen from far and near; We bow in awe and homage but not in any fear. Her Royal Higness passes, thru city, shore, and town, From June until November, and then she settles down. —Sarah Palmer Colmore

Photograph by Stuekert

Puerto Rico's winding highways

FROM GUAYAMA TO CAYEY Over Puerto Rico's mountains where the world is all ablaze With the glories of the tropics, full of fleecy, floating haze, There's a twisting, winding roadway, and 'tis there I would stay, Riding on through sunlit splendors, from Guayama to Cayey. "On the Road to Mandalay" is a well-known Kipling lay By a man who knows just how to tell the things he has to say; But the road to Mandalay couldn't coax you out that way If you'd ever made the journey from Guayama to Cayey. A hundred devious turns present their tiny radial length To the chauffeur at the wheel who guides our chariot's strength Along that royal road which leads to still a better view Of a million miles of sea and sky that blend in melting blue.

Oh, you ride the livelong day, first in shadows cool and gray, Then in golden, blazing sunlight, soak in every potent ray, Fourteen hundred miles away where the bright flamboyants sway, Take me back among the palm trees, from Guayama to Cayey! O ye soul-starved, crazed dyspeptics who here waste away your years! I would give your bloomin' city for one glimpse, as it appears, Looking down that painted valley, as our gloryladen ride Unfolds those mighty pictures only seen from this divide. This is yours for just the say, where the stone posts mark the way, And where only God and Nature share the dividends that pay; Fourteen hundred miles away where the world is still at play, Come with me and share these treasures, from Guayama to Cayey! —Author unknown

Photograph by Stuckert

Crosses against a tropic sky—San Juan Cathedral

CROSSES AGAINST A TROPIC SKY We of the New World, who love this Island's shores and heights, Are often careless of the debt we owe the Old, Are prone to look upon as our due rights, The heritage four centuries have striven to uphold. Nor seldom do we ever pause to cast A backward glance along Time's endless way, Reflecting that upon that priceless past The New and Old are building for Today! For high upon Cathedral's stately tower, From Church and convent, orphanage and school, The Cross is raised, a silent witness to the Power Which brings the New World to the Old, within Christ's rule; And shining down from out a starlit sky The constellation of the Southern Cross gleams through the night, Mute pledges both, that Truth will never die— That Right will ever triumph over Might. —Sarah Palmer Colmore

THE SOUTHERN CROSS We sat outside in the tropic night, My little son and I, And watched the stars grow big and bright As they spangled the velvet sky. Just over the rim of the Carib Sea The Southern Cross hung low, On • chain of silver filigree, Night's ros'ry of star-beads aglow. "And Mother, you know," the lad's voice said, "That you and Father and I Make the Sign of the Cross on breast and head, And God makes it there in the sky." Night told her beads of silver stars, As the Cross slipped into the sea— "Keep him free, dear Christ, from sin that mars, Let Thy Sign his talisman be; "Let it touch his mind and heart," I prayed, "And keep him staunch and true To Thy banner there in the Heavens made, The Cross on its field of blue." —Sarah Palmer Colmore

Photograph 6y Thompson

Symbol of Democracy—Puerto Rico's 57,500,000 Capitol

DEMOCRACY Democracy is Christ, in all The life and toil of man; Though men may talk, and preach, and write, It will not come till then. Democracy is Christ, who takes The time to bless a child; And preaches to an outcast maid In accents soft and mild. Democracy is Christ, who heals The moving mass of life, And strikes in holy, righteous strength The very roots of strife. Democracy is Christ, who feeds The roving multitude, Then draws aside to pray for them In lonely solitude. Democracy is Christ today, Betrayed and crucified; Democracy is Christ to come, Triumphant, glorified! —Esther Turner Wellman

Courtesy Polytechnic Institute

Homes of the poor in San Germán

INTO THE SLUMS'S Into the slums went my class and I, A merry class were we; Out of the slums came the class and I, A sobered group to be. Into the face of a child we gazed, Sick unto death was he; Into the face of its mother, dazed, Worn, and haggard was she. Into a fatherless home we went, The woman left alone; Poor little mother so wan and spent, Frail support for a home! Crippled and orphaned and aged, too, All in dire need of care; Hunger and want as we never knew, Poverty everywhere! Little of hope found the class and I, Faces blank with despair; Nothing to live for, afraid to die, Pitiful children of care! •This poem was written after taking a class of the Polytechnic Institute, San Germán, to visit the poor section of the city. N.H.H.

Not far away, but right at our door, Misery, squalor, woe! One little look and forevermore Pitiful tears must flow. Into the slums with my class that day There walked, although unseen, One who of yore trod the bloodstained way, The lowly Nazarene. Into the slums went my class and I, An aimless group were we; Back we shall go with a purpose high, Friends of the poor to be. —Nathan H. Huffman

Photograph by Stuckert

Winds and clouds in Puerto Rico

THE WIND I am God's artist! The fleecy clouds I carve To my own taste. Across the Sky they tower, weird castles tall, Or marching armies with their fluttering Flags carved out of fluffy wetness White as snow. Sometimes in sport I mold a horse that balks And rears across the blue, Or in madness pile and hurl The clouds, then laugh to see The flaming tongues of lightning Bite them through, scattering My hills and valleys far away! Upon the earth I make the Flowers dance and bow to My sweet tune, or toss aloft The birds like petals fair, while All the trees must sway before My blast. Today I traced Upon the ground an etching rare, Of graceful lines that curved And merged in one, then dropped My tool, a leaf, upon the sands;

And whistling fled across the sea, Leaving the ocean white with foam Beneath my invisible feet, On my way to beautify the world! —Cecil E. Stevens

Photograph by Thompson

The majesty of Puerto Rico's mountains

PSALM When I behold the beauty of God, My heart goes mad with music, But my silence would not trust me The secret of a song. . . . Many an hour have I spent In communion with my books Beneath the dimness of my lamp; But this morn I have worshiped With the majesty of the mountains, the arching skies, the rolling verdures and deep vast forests; the music of breaking waters, the sonorous and harmonious noise of nature mad with beauty, fragrance, and love. . . . And to . . . I have found truth. . . . I will make the world shake And humanity tremble; For I have been with God In my country of divinities. .. . —José A. Franquíz "Argue not there is no God. You may be interrupted by an insect or confused by a flower." —José A. Franquíz 89

PUERTO RICO My island, fallen plume Of the North American eagle: Frail, solitary feather, Why dream of a miracle Since you have been wrenched From the trailing wing of the mainland? In the cemetery of water, Until the miracle comes, Raise, in the midst of the sea, Your mound of earth. José A. Balséiro

Photograph by Thompson

A Moorish gate on the old sea wall, San Juan

NIGHT ON THE OLD SEA WALL (San Juan, Puerto Rico)

I walked beyond the moonlit garden, through A Moorish gate o'erhung with flow'ring vine, And sat beside the wall where sea winds blew, Intoxicated, as with mellow wine, By tropic night in all its mystery Of stars that seem so near one might almost Divine the secret of their twinkling glee, Of shimm'ring waves whereon each rides a ghost Of some lost mariner, of distant heights So deep in clouds and slumbrous mists enwrapped, That they suggest a realm of rare delights Where I might dwell forever dream-entrapped. Thus with white-magic tendrils of her art Borinquén holds in thrall my willing heart. —Elizabeth Kneipple Roberts

Photograph by Stucicert

The royal palm in meditation

MEDITATION OF A ROYAL PALM High on this mountain pass, My roots thrust down To hold with tenacious grip The soil beneath, how many years I've stood! My leaves stir With every gentle breeze that blows Or storm that howls. Daily I watch the hawk Who slowly circles In the blue canopy above, And every leaf of mine claps With mad joy, when like an arrow, He fails to find his victim gone! How many days the sun Has warmed my heart; and made The sap leap in my veins! How many days I've watched The purple shadows flee Before his rays, and heard The solitary birds in prayer and song. Down in that hollow there, The noisy brook babbles continuously To trees and flowers, as it rushes Over stones and hides in silent Deep pools where cattle stand. 95

This is a pleasant land of ours! Far to the north I see the hills arise That lead down to the sea; In front the valley with its veil of mist! The trails that wind down to its depths Then up beyond the heights again Are made by mortals. Yet even these Stand for a minute at the sight They see, and thank their Maker For this world of ours! Would that my heart could tell Them of the stars at night That wheel above my head; The gentle dew that falls In soft benediction on my leaves; The rain that draws Her trailing fingers o'er my grass. Often on moonlight nights my leaves Become as flaming swords To flash my joy of life to those Around, who know, like I, the Beauty of all things. Often I Cower as, sharp and swift, The lightning flame bites Around my head—and listen As the thunder rolls far down The valley. God is good

To let me taste these things: Sun, dew, rain, and mist, And feel the wind that sweeps the world. —Cecil E. Stevens

Photograph by Thompaon

Coast defense maneuvers

BOYS MARCH Boys march; They do not know Munition makers willed it so. Boys march; They only see Duty and nobility. Boys die For human need; They never know it is for greed. —Esther Turner Wellman

Phoforpaph by Thompson

San Juan's magnificent shore line

RICH PORT This desperately tilted plane of land, our island, Toppling from its gaunt sea-rooted pillar, Slanted ever more definitely toward the sea-floor, Toward that bottomless rift in the floor of Mona Passage. Slipping, sliding, creeping, ever more surely, This doomed beloved rock edging, inch by inch, with the earthquakes Toward implacable disaster, Someday will lurch, will plunge, the long tension ended. And the ceibas and the yellow fortress and the lizards and the market place, The wild beauty of mountain cliffs hung with blue morning-glories, Immaculate cane fields and cool breath of coffee groves, Thatched hovels and trolley cars and Ponce de Leon's palace, Tree ferns and flame trees and frail white orchids, My love and your pride, 101

All, all will lie in crushed indeterminate wreckage for a thousand, thousand years In the crevasse beneath the floor of Mona Passage, With aeons of sea creatures moving lightly through heavy masses of water Far above the shattered nameless shards That in 1940 were you and I and the flame trees and Puerto Rico. —Muna Lee

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Photograph by Stuckert

Nocturne in Puerto Rico

NOCTURNE I sang in the temple of starlight, Out of Eternity's space; The moon, like a flickering candle, Was there in its holy place! A resonant chant from the distance Came from the Great White Throne, And then in my heart it echoed, Like sound in a great church dome. The grove was all painted for worship, In lattice-work made of gold; The moon—a holy artist— Had left a painting that's old. The soft, mystic hymn of the ages Was sung by the evening star— A Puritan, timid in beauty, Who sang her solo afar! The evening's grand march was majestic, Like God in every land; And I knelt to the One who carries "The chain of stars in His hand."

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—Esther Turner Wellman

NIGHT How silently the night steals down, Like death upon a home, And then it turns to glory bright, A world all of its own! How silently the beauty comes From domeless space unknown. ... We wonder, then, just what we are— And worship, all alone! —Esther Turner Wellman

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A TROPIC REQUIEM Silken sheen On palm leaves green, Moan of waves on shore. Zephyrs blow In whispers low, Chanting their dirges o'er. Sobbing breeze Through bending trees, Tears of the sea's salt spray, Ocean's knell Like sacring bell Tolls for the passing Day. Night's sweet breath Sighs at Day's death. Pall of moonlight spread. Taper stars Through silver bars Burn softly overhead. Incense fume From censer blooms; Day of Toil is shriven. Throbbing notes From full bird throats In sympathy are given. 109

Vestments white Of radiant light A Priestess Moon trails by. Cowléd hours Down aisles of flowers Pass under dome of sky. Veil of clouds The shrine enshrouds. Night goes on her way. Earth awaits Till Heaven's gates. Release the risen Day. —Sarah Palmer Colmore

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A SONG OF DREAMS COME TRUE My lover was born on a tropic coast, And I, far from the sea; But the ardent eyes of my lover Knew the dreams that came to me, When I longed for wide, blue waters And great winds flung out free. And the magic words of my lover Are the songs I tried to sing When my heart grew sick for green hilltops In the midst of the arid spring That brought no rain to the wheat stalks Nor brought me anything. He is tall as a palm, is my lover, As a flame tree, vivid is he; Dusk and fire in his utterance; And about and over me Are the warm soft wings of the trade winds That blow from the tropic sea. —Muna Lee

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ORCHIDS Who bestowed upon them this loveliness that takes one's breath away? Who lavished tints an artist might strive after but never quite portray? Only of God's air and mist and sun. and radiant light, Only of His rain and moon and sky and starlit night, Could there be fashioned this miracle one believes in but cannot understand; But if one will look well and long, one may discern the imprint of His hand! —Sarah Palmer Colmore

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Photograph by Stuckert

God's templed trees

THE TEMPLE There, stranger, is the long winding road From Bayamon to El Dorado. . . . Stroll that way at evening And you will find a sacred temple More fair than those which yet remain Great ruins of Hellenic prime, For never yet has mere man Equaled Nature in her proudest moments! Here a sanctuary she has raised Where one can only bow in deep bewilderment At her omnipotence. . For she has wrought the royal palm trees Into tall Corinthian columns of living marble. Behold the grandeur of that white facade; Stand there within its vaulted archways, And your enchanted gaze will wander Down dim, silent aisles Where slender sunrays Play through dense foliage and bright blooms Whose colored shadows—red, emerald, and gold— Fall more richly than from blazoned chapel windows. And at the end of those long vistas From the chancel of her fertile meadows Rise Porto Rico's dark green hills, Alluring men to worship at her shrine; 115

And far beyond She has reft the distant mountains, Disclosing a luminous paradise Where the glittering sea With silver mist upon its face, Seems resting motionless around the base Of ancient Morro— A castle built by men, But now, in the bright glory Of this holy hour, Transformed by wide sun shafts Into a promised mansion Of the Golden City! Pass that way, stranger, And you will see and know these things. —Elizabeth Kneipple Roberts

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Photograph by Stuckert, courtesy Mrs. Julia P>ailey

The traveler's palm

THE TRAVELER'S PALM A sketch of sandy waste— The staggering rover looks with eager eyes To where a fan-shaped palm Raises its fronds against the blue, blue sky. Water!—The life-giving stream! With trembling hands he slashes at the base— And gulps the liquid that will save his life! And in his heart he says a silent grace. So God to each of us has sent a Traveler's Palm— His own beloved Son! To fill our thirsty souls with hope and cheer, To drive out our dense ignorance and fear, And give to us the water of eternal life! —Cecil E. Stevens

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THE TRAVELER'S PALM The traveler's palm in tropic lands In greeting spreads wide its fronds, As stately by roadside or desert trail In dignity serene it stands. And pilgrims along the dusty highway, Beholding its majestic beauty from afar, Shout with joy, when from out of nowhere Arises this, Nature's fount. For deep within the base of each palm frond Is water, clear and cool, as from a spring, To slake the thirst of every weary traveler, And send him on his way refreshed. Snugly against its heart the traveler's palm Hugs queer blossoms, that neither wind nor rain May tear and fling away its life-creative power To reproduce its kind. Its welcome is as generous as its fronds, Wide-flaring, like a harp, to every breeze; And weary travelers, resting in its shade, Rise up with strength renewed. —Cynthia Pearl Maus

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Courtesy of University of Puerto Rico

"Vista dc Agnadilla," by Rafaél Arróyo Gély

CARIBBEAN FANTASY I like an island where people meeting Say "Good-by!" in cordial greeting, Where the hollyhock's called "St. Joseph's rod," And the Deity referred to as Papa God; Where neighbor from window calls to neighbor If the goat has strayed or the woman's in labor; And slim brown amorous lizards crawl In a stylized frieze across the wall. Where any flower that's red and floppy— Tree, bush, or vine—is dubbed a poppy; And I dearly love, above the town, The Great Dipper spilling, upside down. —Muna Lee

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Siesta time in Puerto Rico

Photograph by Stuckert

SENSATIONS OF FATHERLAND New fallen rain Washed the mountains— What a smell of damp earth! The stream sings Where it passes Between the cane stalks. . . . Suddenly the soul Is filled with the fatherland. Afternoon in Puerto Rico— Somnolent sky, enamel and honey, Expectant earth; Hour of siesta; Sea breezes, the coffee groves Distilling nectar. Night loosens the mantle Of her mystery. Carnival of stars Eyes wide-awake. Between basil and rosemary, Paths of tobacco. A dizain in the distance— Folk-song of our fields: Consolation of loneliness. 125

Distance . . . Smell of damp earth. Suddenly, the soul Is filled with the fatherland! —José A. Balséiro

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Photograph byStackert

A Puerto Rican funeral among the humbler class

A FATHER Two days ago my little son Ran from our but to meet my boat. His baby feet upon the sands Were soon erased by the lapping tide. He was so dear! Last night I worked all night Upon this box to make it bright With stars for his quiet feet. His sister made these paper wreaths. He is so light, I scarcely feel his weight As I walk on five miles to town. The years, they say, bring comfort, Like the tide that blotted from my view His little footprints. —Cecil E. Stevens

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Photograph by Thompson

A fisherman home-wending from the sea

TWILIGHT SILHOUETTES The sunset's glow is bright on far El Yunque, While waves thud softly on the near-by shore. Silent upon the beach a lone fisherman standing With gesture slow, flings out his net once more. And something in his action stirs the soul With deep content, that simple things like these— Twilight, and darkening shadows on the hills, Then night, a fisherman home-wending from the sea— Such ancient, simple, and familiar things Bid us remember, past reason or regret That Christ, Himself, is but a fisherman Who snares men's hearts with beauty for His net. —Cynthia Pearl Maus

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CATAÑO O little town across the bay, You might be Carcassonne— The way you rest against the hills, The way you cuddle down! Beneath your painted roofs, I know There must be things to see; Your colors glisten in the sun, Your houses call to me! Oh, I would keep enchantment still! I shall not cross the bay, Lest I should find your shining charm Had vanished on the way. —Lillian Cannon Collier

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Photograph courtesy of Polytechnic Institute

The stately bamboo tree, Costello Hall, San German

BAMBOO Slender, jointed bamboo stem, Rising leafless in the air, Tell me why you wait so long For the clothes you are to wear? —Leaves will come in their good time; First I grow and grow and grow, Pushing ever up and up Just as far as I can go. Tell me, slender bamboo stem, How you know you're grown enough, When to stop and give the leaf Time to clothe your graceful tuft? —From the hillside steep I rise, Up and up until I view Far and wide the landscape fair, Underneath a vault of blue. Tell me, fernlike bamboo tree. Why with bended head you sway With the gentle breeze that blows, Bend the head as if to pray? —Who can see the earth and sky, Winding stream and purple hills, See the, breaking of the dawn When the east with glory fills, 135

-See all this and never feel

Moved to bow and homage pay To the One who made it all, Bend the head as if to pray? Swaying, slender bamboo tree, Though you've grown so fair and tall, Not with pride but gentle grace You o'ertop Costello Hall. —Nathan H. Huffman

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Courtesy of Walt Dehner

"Puerto Rico: Harbor Minnows," by Walt Dehner

CARIBBEAN NOON The bellflower sky is hung With a golden, clapper-tongue; From the sea's dark lotus-cup Spark to gold spark gleams up. All firmamental blue Is molten in these two; All terrestrial gold Those burnished stamens hold— Vast sea-petals that underlie Vaster petals of widening sky. —Muna Lee

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Photograph. by Thompson

Resting the oxen in lion Lfrén's field

HACIENDA Afternoon in Don Ef ren's field Tastes of honey and cinnamon and cassava root And is drowsily heavy with yield Of thickly fledged furrow and groves of wild fruit. Sun-colored with mango, dusk-colored with cane, Pungent with rose-apple, sleepy with water, It smells of roasting coffee and jasmine and rain, Of earth fresh-plowed by the oxen of old Don Efren —And is sultry and still as Don Efren's daughter. —Muna Lee

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Sunset at San Juan

Photograph by Stuckcrt

PUERTO RICO AT SUNSET Upon the sea of the sky's deep blue The cloud-boats float along; I catch a glimpse of a phantom crew And the echo of a pirate's song. The sun, with his scepter of magic light, Turns the cloud-sails all into gold, And the phantom crews row into the night, All hoping their treasures to hold. I watch the shadow of tree fern and palm Grow black 'gainst the evening sky, Like sentinels guarding with courage calm The gold that the day has laid. by. —Sarah Palmer Colmore

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{ Photograph by Stuckert

A tropical sea at sunrise

THE SEA Wide is my domain. Up Toward the north my waters lap The icebergs. They gleam And shine when the sun's Rays strike them, like Some glittering jewel. Upon their white desolation Lone sea birds scream their Woe. And all the year My restless heart beats on, Clashing and heaving. Dark my waters look, Full of black secrets; And cold, and damp, and raw Is the wind that whistles. Yet here within the tropics A thousand islands lift their Fronded heads. The sun-god With both hands has poured his wealth. White is that beach where coral Rings scarce make a ripple In the morning tide, white And treacherous! Last night My heart with a thousand jealous Pangs was torn. I hurled aloft 145

The waters in my rage. They Smote and fell upon the ships Far out at sea—poor drowning Flies that called on God for help. Today I heard a maiden say, "The waves all look like stairs." (Ah, yes, by which some mount to heaven.) "They look like soapsuds." Perhaps! I've washed so many souls. —Cecil E. Stevens

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Photograph by Stucicort

Dawn breaks over the mountains and in Carmencita's home

CARMENCITA (A Mountain Lullaby)

Carmencita, Little one, Come to me, For day is done. There 'neath the red flamboyant tree, Which scatters bright blooms on the ground Until the floor and ceiling too Of thy domain are scarlet hue, Thou hast played long and mayhap found Why Heaven blesses thee and me. Carmencita, Little one, Dost thou not know That day is done? For now the mist steals down the hill; The sun has hid himself away, And from behind the western gate Sends back such rays as swift create A flamboyant o'er all the sky, Your sleep with joyous dreams to fill. Carmencita, Little one, Hear what comes When day is done. . . . 149

The great white planets softly glide— Nor seem they far away at all, And down the valley home-lights glow As though some stars had dropped below, Until the night is like a ball Star-studded, vast, with us inside. Carmencita, Little one, Sleep peacefully Till night is done, And dawn breaks from its eastern home And casts a flaming canopy Above blue mountains wrapt in night, And sets our valley wide alight As with some new flamboyant tree Which tells of this day's joys to come. Carmencita, Little one, Awake once more, For day's begun! —Elizabeth Kneipple Roberts

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Chapel of Porta Coeli with acacia trees in the background

ACACIA All the island over acacia trees are blooming, Shaking out blonde tresses upon the quivering air; The breezes stumble drunkenly beneath their load of fragrance, The yellow starlight tangles in their tossing yellow hair. The Caribbean albatrosses fly through cloud on cloud of incense, Incense lifts in tawny smoke to smoky hyacinth hills. All the island over acacia trees are blooming, Through all our island pulses their desperate sweetness shrills. Acacia like a whisper, acacia like a clamor, acacia on the lowland and the saltland and the highland, Thought tosses in the shaken mind as the trees' blonde blossom tosses. Dizzy with acacia on an intoxicated island, We plunge through clouds of perfume as plunge the albatrosses. —Muna Lee

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Phototrruph by Stu•kert, tinted by Mrs. F. W. Ilorne

Sugar cane in bloom in Pucrto Rico

CANE FIELDS There's a ripple of silver, a shimmer of light, Where the fields of sugar cane lie, As the cane blooms stir and toss in the sun, And sway with the wind passing by. A chorus of blondes on a tropical stage— Oh, sweet are the cane blooms and fair! When they bow before wind rushing in from the sea With the sun on their platinum hair. —Lillian Cannon Collier

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ARROWS (Flechas)

Row on row of sugar cane In lines of living green, The harvest of the Tropics In symbol pure is seen.

echas

From colors of the sunset The take their dye, Soft mauve and gold and azure, Pointing upwards toward the sky. As arrows mark the roadside To guide the traveler's way, These arrows of the sugar cane Are signposts of the day, The day when all the harvests Of all earth's boundless store Shall be for all earth's people And want shall be no more. —Sarah Palmer Colmore

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Temple bells in the village plaza

Photograph by Thonpsoia

THE BELLS OF GUAYNABO Upon a flame tree On a bough are Hung three bells, That every Sunday And at prayer time, Their music swells And clashes round the Houses of the square. Red are the blossoms That softly fall and lightly Touch their iron sides, The tree, a living flame to God! A burning altar of His love That calls with throat of iron To those whose ears are deaf, Whose eyes are blind, To come and worship Him. —Cecil E. Stevens

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Garden pools of Casa Blanca, where the coqui hides

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COQ UÍ! (The tropic tree frog)

Coquí, Coquí, Coquí! The Spanish name suits you the best. A tree toad, some say, But to us you're the way That leads to a tropic night's rest. Coquí, Coquí, Coquí! How have you fallen from grace? The lilt of your song, As you go hopping along Should fully establish your place! Coquí, Coquí, Coquí! Where are you hiding by day? "Look under the fronds Of tree ferns, or in ponds Where you'll find lilies and butterflies gay." —Sarah Palmer Colmore

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COQ UÍ Wee yellow frog, with eyes so bright, You hide among the bushes, and at night Lift up your voice in chanting praise For sunshine and rain which fill your days. Dear little frog, whose bell-like notes Rise strong and clear each day, When tempests roll and cyclones sweep our sky, We are rejoiced to hear your voice again— It is a sign the storm is passing by. —Cecil E. Stevens

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Symbolic memorial steps, Polytechnic Institute, San Germán

THE STEPS* The steps! The Poly steps! A mass of brick and stone! How odd to see them here alone, Grim relic of the past. The steps! Memorial steps! Where once was born a dream; 'Twas here the Founder caught a gleam, A dream come true at last. The steps! Symbolic steps! Like those by Jacob seen. To many a student they have been A gate to vision vast. The steps! The holy steps! By right they have a place. Let no rude hand these steps deface, As long as time shall last. —Nathan H. Huffman • The steps referred to in this poem, written in honor of Founders' Day, March 2, 1938, are all that remain of the original farmhouse where Polytechnic Institute was founded at San Germán, and where the first students ate, slept, worked, and studied.

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THE POLYTECHNIC HILLS* Oh, the Polytechnic Hills, How majestic and how grand, With their summits bathed in glory Like the fair and promised land. Is it any wonder then That the heart with rapture thrills, As we stand and gaze with loved ones On the Polytechnic Hills? Refrain Oh, the Hills, beautiful Hills, How we love the Polytechnic Hills. If o'er land or sea we roam Still we think of happy home And of friends among the Polytechnic Hills. Oh, the Polytechnic Hills, Where our youthful days are passed, Where we often wander lonely And the future try to cast. Many are the visions bright Which the future ne'er fulfills But how sunny are the daydreams On the Polytechnic Hills. t This is a Polytechnic Institute school song that was written many years ago by one of the first students and dedicated to the magnificent view of mountains and valleys that surround this, one of the oldest evangelical educational institutions in Puerto Rico.

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Oh, the Polytechnic Hills, How unchanged they seem to stand, With their summits pointed skyward To the vaulted heavens grand. Many changes we can see Which the heart with sadness fills, But no changes can we notice Iñ the Polytechnic Hills. Oh, the Polytechnic Hills, Must we bid you e'er adieu? If in lands beyond the billows, We shall ever dream of you. In the evening time of life, If the heavenly Father wills, We shall still behold the vision Of the Polytechnic Hills.

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PUNTA ALCATRAZ

Noon after noon the sea bird seeks this rock, He who has freedom of all sky, all shore; Noon after noon he comes from far heights flying To perch hereon, as all the noons before. This crusted boulder, this casual piece of granite, Courteay of R. D. Palácioa "Muralla," by Rafaél D. Is the sea bird's star in a uniPalácios verse of cloud, His plot of earth, his verity, his comfort, The one fixed point in fluctuant tides allowed. Not in wide space his joy, nor far horizons, This wildest, freest thing who in unknown, Unbounded oceans of air, oceans of water, Has found the harsh security of stone. Launched through aether from sunrise until moonrise, Midway of dawn and dusk his wings decline (Renewal of endurance, renewal of rapture) To this rock which is his certainty, and mine. —Muna Lee 169

Photooraph 6y Thompson

"The Spectator" "One child's wide bright eyes, Mark where beneath A sunny sky, a sunny mango falls and lies."

THE SPECTATOR Under coral vine and canary tree The village lies a-swoon— The sun clings like a golden bee To the wide blue petals of noon. No sound seeps through from shuttered walls, In the brooding square, no sound; Only a soft, ripe mango falls To rot upon the ground. Only through one shutter's chink One child's wide bright eyes Mark where beneath a sunny sky A sunny mango falls and lies. —Muna Lee

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DON HENRY He was born in a land of ponds and willows, Of gentle slopes and grazing cattle, And here his gaze cleaves flaming mallows To plunge in seas like molten metal. His boyhood knew the kindly shallows Reflecting back the moon's one petal, But cobalt water pours in billows Over these sands where seapods rattle. Yet the white-bloomed beachvines pushing over Shifting dunes where the slim grebe dodges, The three-leaved beachvines are as a lever Which pries apart the tight world's edges, And with a sudden force dislodges Fiery skies from the fiery sedges— And his soul stares through to fields of clover He will see no more, and sees forever. —Muna Lee

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Photoyraph by Stuckcrt

Street scene in San Juan

PUERTO RICO Land of sunshine with mark of Spain; Land of beauty, yet tinged with pain; Land of children, free and unclad, Land of hunger, so stark and sad. Isle of mystery, sweet and still; Isle of movement with power to will; Isle of memories, ages old; Isle of a nation, young, yet old. Pawn of the world in years long past; Pawn of interests not steadfast; Pawn of the church with ancient hold; Pawn of the lust and power of gold. Winds of the trades through whisp'ring palms; Winds of coolness and healing balms; Winds of the tropics, wild and free; Winds from Heaven with cheer for thee. America, care for your own; America, give not a stone; America, the fountainhead; Give us this day our daily bread. —William S. Kenney

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WHO'S WHO AMONG CONTRIBUTING POETS AND ARTISTS Authors JOSÉ A. BALSÉIRO ( 1900—) This eminent poet, educator, and man of letters was born in Barceloneta, P. R., August 23, 1900. He received his highschool education in Baltimore, Md., studied law at the University of Puerto Rico, and literature in Spain, France, and England. The following books from his pen indicate his versatility: La Ruta Eterna (novel), Madrid, 1923; La Copa de Anacreonte (poems), Madrid, 1924; El Vigía, volume 1 (essays), Madrid, 1925 —crowned by the Spanish Academy; Musica Cordial (poems), Madrid, 1926; El Vigía, volume 2, Madrid, 1928; Novelistas Españoles Modernos (criticism), New York, Macmillan, 1933; El Quixote de la España Contemporanea: Miguel de Unamuno (essay), Madrid, 1935. Among the unusual honors accorded him have been such posts as: corresponding member of the Spanish Academy; corresponding member of the Hispanic-American Academy of Arts and Sciences; official delegate of the U. S. Government to the first International Congress on the Teaching of Ibero-American Literature, Mexico City, August, 1938; secretary of the Literary Section of the Ateneo, Madrid; professor of Romance languages, University of Illinois, 1930-33 and 1936-38; visiting professor of Spanish literature, University of Puerto Rico, 1933-36; visiting professor of Spanish literature, Northwestern University, summer, 1937; and chairman of Modern Spanish Division, Modern Language Association of America, 1938. He delivered the opening address at the first congress of the Inter-American Bibliographical and Library Association, Washington, D. C., November 28, 1939. He has also lectured in Spain; at New York University; and at the Universities of Iowa, Wisconsin, and Mexico. JOSÉ GAUTIÉR BENITEZ (1850-80) The poetry of this distinguished Puerto Rican poet is different from all the sex and political poetry of his day in that he 179

sang of the beauty of his native land with intense fervor. He was born in Caguas, trained at the military academy at San Juan, and graduated as an infantry lieutenant. His career took him to Spain, where he lived for the most part in Toledo. The most beautiful of his Puerto Rican poems were distilled from intense homesickness for his tropical home. This love and yearning reached such depth that he gave up his military career and returned to Puerto Rico, giving his full time to the writing of poetry. This led him to cry out, "I may lack everything in earthly goods, but I have too much heart." His poetry, however, will live long after the world has forgotten that battles were ever fought, for he chose the things of the spirit, therefore he lives, and is perhaps the best loved of all the Puerto Rican poets. LILLIAN CANNON COLLIER (1895—)

This distinguished American poetess was born in Orange, Texas, January 11, 1895. For more than twenty years Mrs. Collier has lived in South America and in Puerto Rico, where she now resides. She writes poetry purely as a diversion, and has made little or no attempt to have anything published. Her "Nocturne" appeared in the West Indian Review in 1937. To read her poetry, however, is to recognize, at once, her charming lyric style. SARAH PALMER COLMORE (1881—)

This distinguished poetess was born in Fernandina, Florida. She was graduated from Kent Place School, Summit, New Jersey, in 1899. Following her marriage, she came to Puerto Rico in 1914, after nine years as a resident of Havana, Cuba. Her poems have been widely published the religious press of the Episcopal Church, and in the local papers of San Juan, P. R., where she now resides. Mrs. Colmore is the wife of Charles B. Colmore, the Episcopal bishop of Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands. JOSÉ A. FRANQUÍZ (1906—) This eminent scholar-poet was born in Yauco, P. R., and educated in the public schools of his native land. He studied in both Colgate and Boston Universities on the termination of 180

his undergraduate work. At Boston University he was granted the degrees of Bachelor of Sacred Theology and Doctor of Philosophy. His special field of interest is Philosophy. He is a member of two honorary societies: Phi Epsilon Kappa and Phi Epsilon Theta, and maintains active membership in the College Poetry Guild of America, the American Philosophical Association, the Berliner Kantgeselleschaft, and the Ateneo of Puerto Rico. He is at present Professor of Philosophy in the University of Puerto Rico, and active in the adult education movement undertaken by the Ateneo. He is the author of two books of poetry: Lirios y Jazmines and Interminable Blue, and is an indefatigable contributor to cultural magazines in both English and Spanish. NATHAN H. HUFFMAN (1872—) This eminent poet and man of letters was born in Kansas. He received his A.B. degree from Lane University at Lecompton, Kansas; his B.D. degree from Bonebrake Seminary at Dayton, Ohio; his A.B. and A.M. from the University of Kansas; and his D.D. degree from Kansas City University. He was the founder of the mission of the United Brethren in Christ in Puerto Rico, Superintendent of Christian Work under the San Domingo Board, and at present is dean of the Polytechnic Institute at San Germán. He is a frequent contributor to the church publications and a continual source of inspiration as a teacher of the youth of today. MUNA LEE DE MUÑOZ -MARÍN (189—) This distinguished poetess was born in Raymond, Mississippi. She attended the University of Oklahoma in 1909-10, and received her B.S. degree from the University of Mississippi in 1913. In 1919 Miss Lee married Luis Muñoz-Marín of San Juan, P.R., where she now resides. Mrs. Muñoz-Marín is director of the Bureau of International Relations of the University of Puerto Rico. In 1931-32, on leave of absence from the University, Mrs. Muñoz-Marín acted as director of activities of the National Woman's Party of the United States. In 1928 she was a speaker before the Sixth Pan-American Conference in Havana, Cuba, and director of public relations and information for the Inter-American Committee of Women of the 181

Pan-American Union. She is a member of the permanent council of the Woman Geographers, and of the Poetry Society of America; and in 1915 was awarded Lyric prize by Poetry, the noted Chicago verse magazine. She is also a member of the governing board of the Ibero-American Institute of the University of Puerto Rico, and a member of the supporting council of the World Woman's Party. She is a member of the Poet's Club; the author of Sea Change; and the translator of the Spanish-American Anthology number of Poetry, and of Four Years Beneath the Crescent by General Rafaél de Nogáles. Miss Lee is a frequent contributor to such American magazines as Nation, North American Review, Bookman, and the Ladies Home Journal, and also in Spanish to El Diario de la Marina, El Sol, La Nación, and others. Her present address is Brau 91, San Juan, P. R. RAFAÉL RIVERA OTho (1903—) This Puerto Rican educator, poet, and man of letters was born in Cayey on September 9, 1903. He obtained his A.B. degree from the University of Puerto Rico in 1925, his M.A. from Columbia University in 1930, and his Ph.D. degree from Columbia in 1938. He has been a teacher in the high schools of Puerto Rico, director of the Industrial School of the University of Puerto Rico, and is now assistant to the chancellor of his alma mater. He is co-author of a volume of verse for children, Una Nube en el Viento (A Wind-blown Cloud), author of Sintesis (poems), and a writer of various essays on educational subjects. CÓNCHA MELÉNDEZ has recently been appointed head of the Spanish Department in the University of Puerto Rico. All her undergraduate work was done in the schools of Puerto Rico and in the University. Her graduate work was done at Columbia University, the National University of Mexico awarding her the degree of Doctor en Filosofia y Letras for her brilliant dissertation in the field of Mexican literature. Columbia University published her study of Amado Nervo, the Mexican poet, in the "Instituto de las Españas" series; Signos de Iberamerica is a profound study of Spanish-American literature. Besides being a recognized literary critic, Miss Meléndez is also one of Puerto 182

Rico's finest present-day lyric poets. In 1939 she was awarded the Puerto Rican medal for distinguished work in Spanish literature. GRACE SPENCER PHILLIPS (l88ó—) This widely known poetess was born in Clayton, New Jersey. She holds her A.B. and A.M. degrees from the University of Illinois, and held a fellowship in chemistry at Bryn Mawr. Her Trilogy was published in 1937, and her Seven Sonnets on Puerto Rico in 1938. She has lived in Puerto Rico for twenty-seven years. ELIZABETH KNEIPPLE ROBERTS This eminent American poet and prose writer was born in Marion, Indiana, and holds her Ph.D. degree from the University of Chicago. For more than ten years she was special supervisor of English of the Department of Education in Puerto Rico, during which time she wrote several books for children, and also collaborated with the late Bailey K. Ashford in writing his autobiography, Soldier in Science (Morrow, 1934). In 1937 her novel, Candle in the Sun, came from the press, and in 1938, after a year's residence in central Europe, her novel Reap the Whirlwind appeared, prophesying the present war. In 1940 her latest novel, Tamarack, a story of the Northwoods country in the United States, was issued by Bobbs-Merrill. The books by which she is best known in Puerto Rico are Picturesque Puerto Rico, Stories of Puerto Rico, and Candle in the Sun, the latter having a Puerto Rican setting. CECIL E. STEVENS (1883—) This widely known poet and educator was born in Auckland, New Zealand. For thirty years she was superintendent of schools in Rio Piedras, P. R., and at present is in the Insular Department of Education. Although her great contribution has been in the field of education—no history of education in Púerto Rico could be written without her—she is also one of the island's outstanding lyric poets. Miss Stevens has made a scientific study and collection of the paleographical specimens 183

of the island; and is the author of Before Columbus and Meditation of a Royal Palm. She is also a frequent contributor to both Spanish and American magazines. ESTHER TURNER WELLMAN ( 1893—) As a child of missionaries in Mexico, Esther Turner early achieved complete mastery of Spanish as well as of English. Graduating cum laude and Phi Beta Kappa from the University of Southern California in 1919, she married the same month and went with her husband to Drew Theological Seminary, where she was the first woman ever to be invested by that institution with the degree of Bachelor of Theology. During those same years she completed all credit requirements at Columbia University for her Ph.D. and passed the matriculation examinations brilliantly. Years of research followed in Mexico, successfully terminated by her dissertation: "Amado Nervo, Mexico's Religious Poet." Her degree was awarded in 1936. She is the author of two books of poetry: Democracy and Other Verse and A Rosary of Madrigals. Both her prose and poetry have been widely reprinted, particularly in Spanishspeaking magazines. Her home is now in Puerto Rico, where she is gathering materials for further publication. Illustrators WALT DEHNER (1898—) One print from the brush of this eminent American artist appears in Puerto Rico in Pictures and Poetry. He was born in Buffalo, New York, and his early years were spent among that remarkable group of craftsmen, the Roycrofters, at East Aurora. Michigan, Illinois, and Ohio State Universities gave him his major schooling; and shorter stays at Harvard and Columbia rounded out his scholastic education. Bellows, Rosen, and Speicher at the Woodstock school of the Art Students League did for his art technique what the universities had done for his liberal education. Studies with Breckenridge and Garber completed his student days. For the past twelve years Mr. Dehner has been Director of Art at the University of Puerto Rico, where his work has attracted considerable at184

tention. His holidays are spent in traveling, wandering from one spot to another, always in search of a new inspiration. The islands of the world seem to call to him. Mr. Dehner has exhibited at most of the important museums and art galleries in the United States, among them the Brooklyn Museum, the Toledo Museum of Art, the Art Institute of Chicago, the Los Angeles Museum, and the Whitney Museum. His latest works may be seen at the Kraushaer Galleries in New York City. RAFAEL ARRÓYO GÉLY (1913-35) This distinguished young Puerto Rican artist was born in Patillas, P. R., and died at the age of twenty-two in Guayama. Though he died tragically young, he left twenty-seven jewellike water colors of masterly composition. "How could he, in so brief a life," asks Dr. Cóncha Meléndez in Art in Review, "make his own modern concept of space, the complementary shadows of his tropical colors? Colors, nevertheless, far from stridency, instinct with spiritual light, youthful. How did he acquire, furthermore, his melodic line, his sagacious and difficult simplicity, his originality of interpretation?" His work has been exhibited in the Athenaeum in San Juan and in the University of Puerto Rico, and it will live always because of its poetic as well as artistic appeal. CAROLYN MCAFEE MORGAN Born in Parkville, Missouri, she received her B.A. degree from Park College in 1921, and then spent the years of 1922-24 in Near East Relief work in Syria. The years 1924-25 were spent in teaching in India. After her marriage she went with her husband, Barney N. Morgan, to Puerto Rico, where for four years she taught in Polytechnic Institute at San Germán. In 1929 Mrs. Morgan and her husband were sent to Trujillo City in the Dominican Republic under the Board for Christian Work in Santo Domingo, where Mr. Morgan is Superintendent. In addition to her home responsibilities and teaching activities in the English School in Trujillo City and in the University of Santo Domingo, Mrs. Morgan makes artistic photography her hobby, in which field she was won merited recognition. 185

RAFAEL D. PALACIOS (19OS—) This distinguished artist of Spanish-Puerto Rican parentage was born in Santo Domingo (now Trujillo City), capital of the Dominican Republic. When he was five months old his family moved to Puerto Rico, where he has since made his permanent home. Palácios was educated in the Puerto Rican schools and as an artist is largely self-taught, never having left his native island until 1931, when he made a brief visit to the United States. In 1928 he did his first sketches in fine art while in San Juan. "Muralla," a print of which is included in this anthology, was one of the products of those earlier years. In later years Palácios has dedicated himself to the study of the Negro of the West Indies in his pictorial aspects. In 1937 he was chosen, with two others, to represent Puerto Rico at the second annual Exhibition of American Art in New York City. In 1938 he also exhibited at the Delphic Studios in New York, where he presented his first display of Afro-Antillean art. That same year he also exhibited at the first Newspaper Artists' Exhibition in New York City, and in several one-man shows at the Athenaeum in San Juan and at the University of Puerto Rico. Speaking of his work, Walt Dehner says that Palácios "reveals two sharply contrasted methods of expression in his gouaches and his brush and ink drawings. The latter are poetic, simple, delicately imaginative renderings, for the most part, of Puerto Rican and especially San Juan scenes; old Spanish fortifications, narrow streets, moonlight on crumbling stone and sunlight on iron balconies. Yet stone and iron are transmuted into subtle poems from the subconscious. The gouaches, on the other hand, are brutally direct, tragic, and melancholy. Here there is more of Africa than of Spain, though the Antillean note is always dominant. His painting style is broad and serene, bold in craftsmanship and murallike in conception. The gouaches are in various styles of formalized patterns, simply and powerfully built up; the drawings have a lyric fluency and ease." MILDRED EASTEY STUCKERT Born in Sedalia, Missouri, and reared in San Jose, California, she was graduated from Leland Stanford University in 1913 186

with the A.B. degree. In 1917 she married George A. Stuckert and lived in Panama City for two years. In 1924 she came to Puerto Rico, where she has since resided. Her avocational interest for the past several years has been artistic photography, in which field she has won outstanding recognition. Her remarkable photographic prints have been published in such magazines as the National Historic, Vogue, and the Garden Quarterly. Her unusually artistic photographic prints exhibited in the Puerto Rican Art Exhibit in October, 1939, received universal praise.

JOHN WILLIAM THOMPSON ( 1912—) This young man was born in Indianapolis, Indiana. He graduated from Shortridge High School in 1930 and attended Butler University for three and a half years. He served as staff photographer for the Indianapolis Times and also as dramatic and sports editor. He married in 1936 and the following year moved to Puerto Rico, where he now holds a responsible position as administrative assistant for the Puerto Rico Progress Association. His hobby is artistic photography, and he has a collection of more than eight hundred prints, many of which have received notable commendation. More than a hundred of his photographic prints were recently exhibited at the Blanche Kellogg Institute in Santurce in connection with the John R. Mott meetings.

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS It is with a very deep appreciation that the author and compiler of Puerto Rico in Pictures. and Poetry acknowledges her indebtedness for the generous contributions which both poets and artists have made to the compilation of this anthology dedicated to the beauty of Puerto Rico. The compiler has made every effort to trace the ownership of all copyrighted poems and pictures contained in this volume through authors, artists, libraries, and publishers, and to the best of her knowledge has secured written permissions on all the materials included herein. Should there be any question in regard to the use of any poem or picture without adequate permission, the author hereby acknowledges such unconscious error, and pledges herself, upon notification of such oversight, to make the necessary corrections in subsequent editions of this anthology. A special word of appreciation is due to Mrs. Esther Turner Wellman, of Rio Piedras, Puerto Rico, for her generous work in scanning poetry by Spanish authors with a view to locating poems of a descriptive character that should be included, and for translating, when necessary, such poems into English. Also for her service in contributing biographical material for the "Who's Who Among Contributing Poets and Artists." Thanks are also tendered for her gracious permission to include in this anthology five poems from her pen, as follows: "Democracy," "Nocturne," and "Night" from Democracy and Other Poems; "A Spanish Home" from the 1926 Poetry Day Book, and her as yet unpublished verse, "Boys March." Special recognition is also due to Mrs. Muna Lee de MuñozMarín, of the University of Puerto Rico, for her permission to include several poems from her fertile pen: "San Christobel" and "A Song of Dreams Come True" from Sea Change; "Rich Port" from the American Mercury; "Caribbean Noon," "Caribbean Fantasy," and "Acacia" from the New Yorker; "Hacienda" from the Commonweal; "Punta Alcatraz" from Poetry; "Don Henry" from the New Republic; and "The 189

Spectator" from New York Herald-Tribune "Books." Gratitude is also expressed for her generous co-operation in securing permission to include prints from the Walt Dehner collection of art, a print from the work of the gifted young Puerto Rican artist, Rafaél Arróyo Gély, and also one from the brush of Rafaél D. Palácios. She has also been helpful in suggesting contributions by other American and Puerto Rican poets and artists that should be included in such an anthology, and in providing biographical material on Walt Dehner, Rafaél Arróyo Gély, and Rafaél D. Palácios. Thanks are also due to the following authors who have contributed one or more poems to this anthology: Rafaél Rivera Otéro, of the University of Puerto Rico, for permission to include "Borinquén" from Glimpses of Puerto Rico. Mrs. Elizabeth Kneipple Roberts and Silver Burdette Company for permission to include the following poems: "Flamboyant Trees," "Palm Groves," and "Night on the Old Sea Wall" from Stories of Porto Rico; "The Temple," "Borinquén Sunrise Across Candado Bay," and "Carmencita" from Picturesque Porto Rico. Cóncha Meléndez, of the University of Puerto Rico, for permission to include her poem "The Mountains Know" from Some Spanish-American Poets. Mrs. Sarah Palmer Colmore for permission to include the following poems from her versatile pen: "Los Caballitos Blancos," "Powder Puffs," "Flamboyan," "Crosses Against a Tropic Sky," "A Tropic Requiem," "Orchids," "Arrows," "Puerto Rico at Sunset," "The Southern Cross," and "Coqué." José A. Franquíz, of the University of Puerto Rico, for permission to include two poems, "Psalm" and "Moonlight Reflections," from Interminable Blue. Mrs. Grace Spencer Phillips for permission to include her poem "The Flamboyant" from Seven Sonnets on Puerto Rico. Miss Cecil E. Stevens for permission to include the following poems from her pen: "Shadows," "El Yunque," "The Wind," "Meditation of a Royal Palm," "A Father," "The Sea," and "The Bells of Guaynabo" from Meditation of a Royal

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Palm; and "The Traveler's Palm," "Coqui," and "The Flamboyant," which were written especially for this anthology. Nathan H. Huffman, of Polytechnic Institute, San Germán, for permission to include three poems, "The Steps," "Bamboo," and "Into the Slums" in this anthology. José A. Balséiro, poet-critic, of the University of Puerto Rico, for permission to include two poems from his pen, "Puerto Rico" and "Sensations of Fatherland." Mrs. Pierce Collier, of San Juan, for permission to include in this anthology four poems, as follows: "The Haunted Sentry Box," "Cataño," "Cane Fields," and "Nocturne." Dr. Jarvis S. Morris, President of Polytechnic Institute, San Germán, for permission to include "The Polytechnic Hills," a school song that was written many years ago by one of the first students and dedicated to the magnificent view of mountains and valleys that surrounds Polytechnic Institute, one of the oldest evangelical educational institutions in Puerto Rico. A special word of thanks is also due to the following artists and photographers who have contributed to the enrichment of this anthology: Mr. Walt Dehner, Director of Art at the University of Puerto Rico, for permission to include one of his art portrayals of Borinquén scenes. The University of Puerto Rico for permission to include one print from the work of the gifted young Puerto Rican artist, now deceased, Rafaél Arróyo Gély. Mr. Rafaél D. Palácios for permission to include a print of his sketch "Muralla" to illustrate the poem by Muna Lee, "Punta Alcatraz." Mrs. Mildred Eastey Stuckert, photographic artist, for permission to include prints of her photographic enlargements of unusual Puerto Rican scenes. Mr. John W. Thompson, photographic artist for the Puerto Rican Progress Association, for permission to include thirteen of his photographic views. Mrs. Carolyn McAfee Morgan, for permission to include the print, "Moonlight Reflections" to illustrate a poem of that title by José A. Franquíz.

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INDEX OF POETRY BY AUTHORS AND TITLES ANONYMOUS Entering San Juan Harbor From Guayama to Cayay Night Winds' Oratorios The Polytechnic Hills BALSÉIRO, JOSÉ A. Puerto Rico Sensations of Fatherland BENITEZ, JOSÉ GAUTIÉR Puerto Rico COLLIER, LILLIAN CANNON Cane Fields Cataño Nocturne The Haunted Sentry Box COLMORE, SARAH PALMER Arrows — A Tropic Requiem Coquí! Crosses against a Tropic Sky Flamboyan Los Caballitos Blancos Orchids — Powder Puffs Puerto Rico at Sunset The Southern Cross FRANQUÍZ, JOSñ A. Moonlight Reflections Psalm HUFFMAN, NATHAN H. Bamboo Into the Slums The Steps KENNEY, WILLIAM S. Puerto Rico LEE, MUNA Acacia A Song of Dreams Come True 193

Page 2f 71 41 166 90 12 5 37 1S S 132 32 29 1S6 109 161 75 68 35 113 45 143 76 59 89 135 81 165 175 1S3 111

Caribbean Fantasy Caribbean Noon Don Henry Hacienda Punta Alcatraz Rich Port San Christobel The Spectator MAUS, CYNTHIA PEARL A Tropical Moon on Good Friday The Traveler's Palm Twilight Silhouettes MELÉNDEZ, CÓNCHA The Mountains Know OTERO, RAFAEL RIVERA Borinquén PHILLIPS, GRACE SPENCER The Flamboyant ROBERTS, ELIZABETH KNEIPPLE Borinquén Sunrise across Candado Bay Carmencita Flamboyant Trees Night on the Old Sea Wall Palm Groves The Temple STEVENS, CECIL E. A Father Coquí — El Yunque Meditation of a Royal Palm Shadows The Bells of Guaynabo The Flamboyant The Sea The Traveler's Palm The Wind WELLMAN, ESTHER TURNER A Spanish Home Boys March Democracy Night Nocturne 194

Page 123 139 172 141 169 101 29 171 51 120 131 61 26 65 31 149 67 93 55 115 129 162 57 95 47 159 66 145 119 85 43 99 79 106 105

INDEX OF ARTISTS CONTRIBUTING ILLUSTRATIONS ANONYMOUS Chapel at Porta Coeli with acacia trees in the background

Page 152

DEHNER, WALT "Puerto Rico: Harbor Minnows"

138

GÉLY, RAFAÉL ARRÓYO "Vista de Aguadilla"

122

MORGAN, CAROLYN MCAFEE Moonlight reflections

PALACIOS, RAFAÉL D. "Muralla"

169

POLYTECHNIC INSTITUTE Homes of the poor in San Germán Symbolic memorial steps, Polytechnic Institute, San Germán The stately bamboo tree, Costello Hall, San Germán STUCKERT, MILDRED EASTEY Ancient citadel of El Morro, The Cloudy sky at dawn, A Coconut palms beside the sea Crosses against a tropic sky, San Juan Cathedral Dawn breaks over the mountains and in Carmencita's home El Yunque Mountain Flamboyant, or royal poinciana, tree in summer, The Garden pools of Casa Blanca, where the coqul hides God's templed trees Haunted sentry box, The Humble but of the Jibero, The Nocturne in Puerto Rico Orchids of Puerto Rico, The Palm groves in the evening Puerto Rican funeral among the humbler class, A Puerto Rico's winding highways Royal palm in meditation, The 195

80 164 134 24 44 40 75 148 56 64 160 114 28 46 104 112 54 128 70 94

Page Sea waves at night—Los Caballitos Blancos Siesta time in Puerto Rico Street scene in San Juan Sugar cane in bloom in Puerto Rico Sunset at San Juan Traveler's palm, The Tropic requiem, A Tropical sea at sunrise, A Winds and clouds in Puerto Rico World-famed Casa Blanca at San Juan, The

34 124 174 154 142 118 108 144 84 42

THOMPSON, JOHN WILLIAM Candado skyline at sunrise Coast defense maneuvers Dos Bocas Mountains Fisherman home-wending from the sea, A La Plata Valley Majesty of Puerto Rico's mountains, The Moonlit cross in the hills Moorish gate on the old sea wall, A—San Juan Resting the oxen in Don Efrén's field San Juan's magnificent shore line Symbol of Democracy—Puerto Rico's $7,500,000 Capitol "Spectator, The" Temple bells in the village plaza

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