{"1": {"fulltext": "fel^ lESllE PAQC", "height": "3441", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "LILLIAN LESLIE PAGE.", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "FORGET-ME-NOTS\\nBY\\nLILLIAN LESLIE PAGE\\nPublished for the Author\\nby\\nTHE WHITAKER RAY CO.\\n(Incorporated)\\ni899", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "r\\nCC^\\nI\\nRegis:\\n2V12\\nCopyright\\n1899\\nLillian Leslie Page\\n8CC0N0 COPY*", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "DEDICATION\\n^^^^\u00e2\u0096\u00a0^HIS LITTLE CLUSTER OF FORGET-ME-NOTS IS\\n11 DEDICATED IN TENDER REMEMBRANCE TO\\n^^L^ THE HAPPY HOURS OF MY LIFE, AND TO\\nTHE DEAR FRIENDS WHO HAVE MADE THEM SO.\\nLILLIAN LESLIE PAGE.", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS\\nA Day at Catalina\\nChestnuts\\nRelease\\nLeaves\\nReni\\nDriftwood\\nA New England Thanksgiving Day\\nAugust\\nA Reverie\\nBaby Earl\\nAn Exile", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "A DAY AT CATALINA\\nWhen the day is sifting\\nDusk shades into the gflen^\\nAnd twilight gray is drifting\\nInto the haunts of men\\nA mellow sunset gleams\\nAslant the western sea\\nA-dream our senses seem\\nWith the waves soft lullaby!\\nThere are tints of opal, and amethyst\\nWhere the shade and shine have met\\nAmong the hills, and, rapturous, kissed.\\nJust before the sun has set.\\nAnd, when the waves lie sleeping,\\nIn Santa Catalina s bay,\\nHave we no cause for weeping\\nO er our fleeting day\\nAnd that the golden sunlight\\nBy the sunset sea.\\nWith the tinted twilight\\nAre now a memory\\n*?i", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "CHESTNUTS\\nI\\nThe time was when the winds were cold.\\nAnd golden-rod had lost its gold.\\nAnd summer days were fully told.\\nII\\nAnd Nature, with her magic wand\\nTurning to beauty all the land,\\nDispensed her gifts with generous hand.\\nAnd lovely arc the hues she weaves,\\nInto the bright October leaves,\\nGainst the pale gold of harvest sheaves.\\nIV\\nUpon the hills, ripe chestnuts, brown\\nThe autumn winds had scattered round\\nAmong the leaves upon the ground.", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "V\\nAnd up the hillside, all the while\\nSteady paced and Indian-file/\\nWe climbed its pathway half a mile,\\n^JSS:: VI\\nThen, where the path grew rugged, steep;\\nAnd vines and brakes, and briars creep.\\nTried vainly even step to keep.\\nVII\\nAnd squirrels young, and squirrels staid\\nViewed our movements, undismayed,\\nNor feared to suffer from our raid.\\nVIII\\nThey knew better, perhaps, than we.\\nThe way to the richest chestnut tree,\\nBut kept their secret well, you see\\n11\\nV*-i", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "RELEASE\\nFrom all the care, the worry,\\nThe jostle, and the strife.\\nThe bustle and the hurry\\nAlongf the path of life\\nTo slip aside from out the throng:,\\nInto some shady nook\\nHallowed by a sweet bird-song.\\nAnd by all the world forsook\\nWith the warm, damp earth for pillow\\nAnd mosses for our bed.\\nAnd the drooping, swaying willow\\nShadowing overhead\\nTo dream that angel fingers\\nSmooth the brow of care.\\nAnd lead, while daylight lingers,\\nTo the many mansions fair\\nOr to hear the long-hushed voices\\nCall us, ever and anon.\\nTo the far home of those we loved\\nIn the years forever gone.\\nAnd this sigh of earnest longing,\\nIs the soul s oft-told request.\\nl^ j^l^^^^Jiilcr sad thoughts the heart are thronging)\\nIf He loves He 11 give us rest/\\nk^", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "LEAVES\\nThe day is bright and golden\\nFall the leaves about my feet,\\nWhile fancies strange and olden,\\nThrong my memory, sad yet sweet.\\nA requiem, seems the wind s low sigh.\\nAs the dead leaves flutter down\\nAll meekly at my feet to lie.\\nGolden, red and brown.\\nAs Hope, with folded hands\\nAcross a pulseless breast.\\nLies down calmly\\nIn sombre garments drest\\nThen I cry, To love there s not one.\\nLife seemed too short\\nWhen blooming Hope was young.\\nBut now, with the bitter past\\nMy thoughts are wed.\\nAnd life is far too long,\\nWhen Hope is dead", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "RENI\\nOf ttimes, when over the sunset\\nCloud-curtains, with fleecy fold\\nHang, purple, opal and amethyst\\nWith edges of crimson and gold.\\nMemory speaks of a hamlet\\nWith a quaint old Spanish name.\\nNestled among the foot-hills,\\nWhere the Sierras slope to the plain.\\nAnd I see again the convent\\nSt. Ursul, rising high\\nWhere happy were the hours we spent\\nMy playmate Reni and I\\nFor neither had known a heartache\\nA burden or a care\\nThe clouds of life were hidden,\\nAnd the sky was bright and fair.\\nShe was lovely as the sunlight\\nFair as a poet s dream\\nChangeful as the shadows\\nThat steal the boughs between\\nBut I loved her for her merry heart.\\nThe gentle, graceful ways\\nAnd prized her friendship dearest\\nOf all, in childhood days", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "We played among the orange trees,\\nWhere the petals fell like rain\\nThen fate led my footsteps far away.\\nAnd wc never met again.\\nShe rests beyond the shadow\\nOf the gray old convent wall\\nAnd, about her cold, damp home,\\nThe sycamore shadows fall.\\nPerhaps tis well; they tell me\\nT were better she had lain\\nBeneath its shadow, ere she left\\nBehind a tarnished name.\\nI find it easy to forgive\\nWhen there s no one to defend,\\nAnd tho* others may upbraid\\nI still may own my friend.\\nThou hast been called, dear Reni\\nA Magdalen, I Ve heard\\nYet I would not mock thy memory,\\nWith one bitter, taunting word\\nFor I hold our friendship dear.\\nJust for the olden time.\\nWhen we played beneath the shadows\\nOf that cluster-laden vine.", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "DRIFTWOOD\\nAdown the Spring-clad valley,\\nThe river ran deep and wide\\nWhirling weeds and branches\\nAway with its turbid tide.\\nAnd, as I watched them floating,\\nHelpless and hopeless tost.\\nLike unto some ship- wrecked mariner.\\nTill they in the mist were lost\\nI remembered having read\\nThat life was like a stream\\nWith here and there a shadow\\nAnd, anon, a sunny gleam.\\nAnd, ^t was said that joy and sorrow.\\nWith its ripples fled away\\nEven as this blackened driftwood\\nFloated out upon the bay\\nAnd my mind was much perplexed\\nI could not understand\\nFor I had seen no shadows\\nIn youth, Life s Summerland/\\nk", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "But in later years, Fve read\\nThose words with eyes of truth\\nWith eyes that were not dazzled\\nBy the rosy dawn of youth\\nYes Life is like a stream\\nAnd we, who float along\\nOver its waves or ripples,\\nWith either a sigh or song\\nBetween banks, all green and grassy.\\nWith many a sunny slope\\nOr, strewn with blackened driftwood.\\nFrom many a ship-wrecked hope\\nAre leaving behind us scenes\\nWe never may visit again\\nThe landscape fair of peace,\\nOr, years of weary pain.\\nYet pleasant the voyage, albeit\\nClouds along the horizon lie,\\nIf Hope s bright bow of promise\\nIs hung athwart our sky\\nAnd we know, with the loved and loving ones\\nWho drift from our clasp away.\\nWe shall be anchored safely\\nWithin the Crystal Bay", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "A NEW ENGLAND THANKSGIVING DAY\\nn-22- 82\\nI\\nClouds that golden glow at dawn.\\nWoods with autumn s glory gone.\\nWithered leaves to tread upon\\nIn the gray November.\\nn\\nPanes that gleam with frozen dew.\\nIn the dawn-light streaming through\\nMidday skies of sunny blue\\nNoontide in November.\\nm\\nOver the hilltop s leafless crest\\ndaylight glows in the west\\nrestless winds a transient rest.\\nEvening in November.", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "AUGUST\\nThe hour is sultry; and the breeze\\nSteals so slowly mong; the trees\\nThat it faintly stirs the leaves.\\nAnd there are shadowy clouds that lie\\nLike snow-drifts Against the August sky;\\nAnd eventide is drawing nigh.\\nWhen silent is the street and mill,\\nAnd upon the woody hill,\\nLonely, sings the whip-poor-will\\nThen the dew shall bathe the feet\\nOf the flowers as they sleep,\\nAnd the moonbeams guard shall keep.\\nA", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "A REVERIE\\nA hush of eventide is on the vale;\\nNo bough is stirring; not a wail\\nOf wind or tempest comes to lift\\nThe silence or to mar the calm I drift,\\nAnd over unknown seas, to foreign lands.\\nAnd one I love is leading me\\nAnd holds my hands.\\nMy senses dream, tho eyelids slumber not;\\nAnd voices, seemingly, so long forgot.\\nSpeak to me low, as in the time gone by\\nI dream and drift the moments fleeting fly.\\nOh do not wake me then, for I would give\\nAs much as may be in such dreams to live\\nAnd never waken", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "Dear little golden head^\\nAsleep on my breast;\\nLovingly fondled,\\nKissed and caressed*\\nSadly I miss the pattering feet,\\nThe dear, busy fingers\\nAnd lisping sweet.\\nWhile hot fall the tears\\nOn the soft little curl\\nThat kissed the fair brow\\nOf my baby Earl!\\nAh me has Heaven another so fair\\nAs my brown-eyed baby with golden hair", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "AN EXILE\\nWhere Minnehaha in the sunshine smiles\\nAnd the beautiful river of a Thousand Isles\\nOn Niagfara^s turbulent waters^ foam-crested,\\nAnd New Engfland^s hills mine eyes had rested\\nYet the old, old home, ^leath blue, blue skies.\\nWas the dearest picture of Memory s eyes.\\nI had stood on the Hudson s bank to gfazF\\nOn the Hig^hlands, in the summer s haze.\\nThe stately palaces of stone\\nThat lined its banks were \u00c2\u00a7frand, I own.\\nYet none in splendor could outshine\\nMy dear old home in the sunset clime.\\nIn the stranger s land I could not stay\\nBut over the prairies wandered away\\nAnd to the south, where the cypress bend\\nOver the grave of a well-loved friend\\nFor the fever s breath was in the air.\\nBlighting the flowers we deemed most rare.\\nWhere the Texas red-bird sings to the sun\\nI went, yet found my search not done.\\nAnd, northward again, my face I turned\\nBeyond where the Mcnuaches camp-fires burned.\\nGray and high in the solitude\\nThe crumbling walls of Fort Riley stood.", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "As the moonligfht fell on the barrack walls\\nIt ^minded me of castled halls\\nOf which I d read and I nearer drew\\nFrom the chillingf wind, which ever blew\\nThrough the doorless ways, moaning, sighing,\\nLike the voice of one in sorrow crying.\\nSome of the walls were crumbling down,\\nWith rough-hewn stones strewing the ground\\nOthers in the long row seemed to stand.\\nPointing to Heaven, like spectral hands.\\nI stood alone in the midnight cold,\\nAnd loneliness is grand I hold.\\nOur noblest, holiest thoughts we speak\\nBut to ourselves alone\\nWhen joy, or grief, is great, we seek\\nClose intercourse with none.\\nThen, back to the camp I turned,\\nAnd wearily sought my rest.\\nTo dream of the mountains dividing me\\nAnd my far-away home in the West.\\nAll were busy at early dawn\\nPacking the baggage and tents\\nThe cover at last was drawn.\\nAnd again on our way we went.", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "The prairie lilies and roses\\nNodded good-morning* to me,\\nBut the shy, tender mimosas\\nBowed, so their faces I could not see\\nThe fragrant wind from the prairie\\nGently urged me to stay,\\nBut I looked to the sunset, and answered,\\nI cannot, and hastened away.\\nBeyond the land of the Menuaches,\\nI sought the coveted blossom heartease/\\nIn a hunter s cabin I slept, and dreamed\\nThat life was not so dark as it seemed,\\nThat clouds and sunshine came as bidden,\\nAnd sorrow left us alone when chidden,\\nTill I startled, wakened at the sound\\nOf my Indian pony pawing the ground.\\nImpatient and restless ever, he\\nBy nature was surely a Menuache\\nThen I went on my way with a lighter heart.\\nWhile our clattering hoofs set the deer a-start;\\nThough I had not found the heartease yet.\\nThe old home I could not quite forget\\nAs afar I saw the Sierras rise\\nGuarding the gates of my Paradise;\\nAs one may fancy Sentinels stand\\nBefore the gates of the Promised Land.", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "Half satisfied then, I journeyed back,\\nCrossing again the olden track\\nAnd the blossom sought, my restless eyes\\nFound, blooming beneath New England skies.\\nThankful now, with the kindness sent,\\nWisdom has taught me to be content;\\nYet ever that far away, Ranche will be\\nMy Beulah Land of memory!\\nAnd busily, busily all the day\\nGlide the fleeting hours away\\nUnrestful, till the sun goes down\\nBehind the hill, with smile or frown.\\nWith never a wish to call it back.\\nOr a murmur if the clouds are black\\nI watch the close of each passing day.\\nAnd tho Fate would eastward hold my eyes,\\nThe dearest to me are the Sunset Skies.\\nOften with hands my gaze I shield.\\nAnd in fancy see those yellow fields\\nBy the west wind rippled, as a waveless sea\\nKissed by the southern breezes free.\\nAnd oh of all the pictures\\nMine eyes have ever seen,\\nThe Vale of the Sacramento\\nTo me the fairest seem.", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "1899\\nr%", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3285", "width": "2082", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3379", "width": "2176", "jp2-path": "forgetmenots00page_0032.jp2"}}