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MIAMI MUSE
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A Weekly Column Devoted to Florida's Poets
Conducted by
Vivian Yeiser Laramore
(Poet Laureate of Florida)
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Long before we had the pleasure of meeting Elizabeth Chambless
we heard glowing accounts  of
the splendid work she is doing for the hard-of-hearing.
Her text book, "Easy Lessons in Lip Reading,"
is widely used and her poems and articles in "The Volta
Review" are an inspiration to the thousands who are
denied the music of sound. Only slightly hard of hearing
herself, she has developed the art of lip reading to the
point of comprehending lecturers speaking beyond the range
of normal hearing. Her attentive attitude only tends to
add to her innate charm. Last year she taught a class in
lip reading at the Florida State College for Women, and
among her students were five faculty members and several
scholarly Ph.D.s. She moved to Florida 15 years ago and,
until this winter, made her home in St. Petersburg, where
she maintains an active membership in the National League
of American Pen Women. Since moving to Miami she has been
added to the faculty of Dr. Carlson's private school at
the Beach. From the Sidney Lanier Anthology of Tree Poems
published recently by Dr. Wightman F. Melton of Atlanta,
we quote
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Banyan Tree
The ceiling of a banyan tree
Is very like a church.
I pause beneath its valted arch
To fell my faint heart lurch.
The hush of a cathedral
Is in the muted air.
I stand and gaxe in utter peace,
And know that God is there.
* * *
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The November issue of "Volta Review," a magazine
founded in 1899 by Alexander Graham Bell, uses this poem
by Mrs. Chambless,
My Garden
Here is a joke
Absurdly funny,
I'm very rich
Though I haven't much money;
I've traveled far
Though I seldom leave home;
I've seen St. Peters,
But never in Rome.
I've a garden spot
Arrestingly fair,
With which no other
Can compare;
But when I gaze
On its rich design
I have to peep over
A "Trespassing" sign.
* * *
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Mrs. Chambless has had splendid success in her work among
speech defectives. She finds physically handicapped people
mentally alert and highly developed in the art of concentration.
Published here for the first time is her lyric,
Dreams Are Boats
Dreams are boats that are not
safe
Except when anchored fast.
Oh, do not board these fragile barks,
For dream-boats seldom last
Until they reach the port in view,
And waves are cold and grim.
I've sailed in dream-boats all
mylife,
But I know how to swim!
* * *
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How familiar to the writer of verse is the effusively polite
rejection slip that sends the spirits diving bottomward.
It takes a good loser to treat the beloved prodigal as lightly
as Elizabeth does in
Tired Little Wanderer
Tired little wanderer,
Shivering and cold,
Sad little manuscript,
Soiled, torn and old,
Conceived for the heavens,
For soaring and song,
I should have given you
Wings that were strong.
My song-bird, my skylark!
The waiting was tense,
But you're home now forever---
A crow on my fence.
* * *
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Because of its brevity the quatrain is one of the most
difficult mediums of expressions. To clothe an emotion
in four terse lines is never easy:
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Broken Pattern
I patterned my life from beginning to end,
A
neat little pattern, both tidy and cool,
Then I knocked at the door of a very good friend
To
seek approbation --- oh, I was a fool!
* * *
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Her sons, Bob, 14, and Joe, are the center and circumference
of the cosmic system to this particular poet. And that
is as it should be. Her greatest desire is for sincere
expression, and how can a woman better express herself
than in stalwart sons? She is taking a special course
in theory and metaphysics that will add to her efficiency
in helping the hard-of-hearing, her chosen field of endeavor.
In tender mood she writes
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Together
The road is not rough
When two walk together,
They bask in the sun,
They smile at wet weather.
When two walk together,
Their souls arm in arm,
Each day is adventure
And there is new charm
In each little by-path,
In every far view ---
The day is so golden,
The sky is so blue!
And when the road lengthens
And glides towar the west,
The slope is still gentle
With two souls abreat.
They gaze on the sunset,
Its splendor their own;
But steep is the journey
When one walks alone.
* * *
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Elizabeth Chambless expects to make Miami home. Already the
beauty of this section has made her an enthusiastic convert.
Her desire to serve those less fortunate than herself has
brought within her reach life's most coveted prize -- happiness.
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