{"1": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3106", "width": "2035", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.\\nChap. Copyright No.\\nShelf..tli.7I\\n^35\\nUNITED STATES OF AMERICA.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2984", "width": "1954", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2984", "width": "1954", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2984", "width": "1954", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": ".Xt*-\\nYl\u00c2\u00a3.V\\\\v,vV\\nTHE LILACS", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "at \u00e2\u0082\u00acarlp Canble Etsl)t\\nmobctt apc31nttte\\nCURTS JENNINGS\\nCINCINNATI CHICAGO ST. LOUIS", "height": "2984", "width": "1954", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "TWO COPIES R-ECEIVED.\\nUbrary of eor,gr.8%\\n\u00c2\u00bbfffci of tho\\nR^^ ^^er of Copyrights\\nSECOND COPY. ^-/^^7^\\n...61683\\nCOPYRIGHT, 1899, BY\\nTHE WESTERN METHODIST BOOK CONCERN.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "TO MY WIFE", "height": "2984", "width": "1954", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "Y^HIS fell to me, to strike the strings\\nOf viine ozvn harp with strenuoits hand,\\nRefreshed to tell the Joy that rings\\nThrough all the course of cotninoti things,\\nBelieving soine would understand.\\nNo tale is here of those old days\\nWhen warriors we?it i?i armor drest\\nMelodious words and honeyed lays\\nSeem all too smooth to fitly phrase\\nThe making of the mighty West.\\nNo eagle s siveep, as, round and round.\\nHe climbs the amplitude of air\\nOn fearless wing, will here be found\\nThe warbling zvhite-throaV s lotv, clear sound\\nAnd wavering flight is all I dare.\\n5", "height": "2984", "width": "1954", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "PROEH\\nHere winds the woodbine, wet with dew,\\nAnd here the canes of cat-tails grow\\nHere lift the bells of larkspurs blue.\\nAnd morning-glories such as grew\\nFrom out the loam of long ago,\\nHere doth the swallow write her rimes\\nO71 the palimpsest of the pool\\nThe chevroned blackbird fifes his tunes\\nThe crocks of cream, like golden moons\\nMake twilight in the dairy cool.\\nHere blows the sce^it by sweetbrier made\\nHere cameo acorns strike the sod;\\nThe glow-worm^ s lantern lights the glade\\nThe smile of stars on snow-fields laid.\\nWhere earth, asleep, doth dream of God.\\nOne heaped-tip harvest now is vii7ie\\nFaring so far with 7iature hath\\nHealed mine own heart aJid if oJie li?ie\\nShall win me fellowship with thine,\\nThen co^neth in my after77iath.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS\\nProem,\\nKnee Deep, g\\nWhen the GoIvD is on the Wili^ow, 12\\nThe Sugar Camp, 16\\nThe Country Road, 20\\nHis Sweetheart s Throat, 23\\nStand By, 26\\nHe leadeth Me, 28\\nWhere the Oak Log Crossed the Stream, 33\\nO Christmas Day, ^6\\nHis Mark, ^S\\nMirror Lake, 39\\nAt Early Candle Light, 41\\nDead in Khartoum, 4,\\nThe Old Trail, 45\\nO Christmas Tree, 48\\nEaster Morning, cq\\nLogan of Illinois, 5^\\nOur White Ladye, cc\\nThe Breadwinners Ballad, 57\\nOn the Timber-Line, 61\\nSassafras, 63\\nFour Feet on the Fender, 65\\nThe River of Lost Soui,s, 68\\nThe Whistling Boy, 71\\n7", "height": "2984", "width": "1954", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "8 CONTENTS\\nPAGE\\nThh Lilacs, 74\\nWhat You Did Not Say, 77\\nHardscrabble and Highstbeple, 79\\nComrade Hayes, 8i\\nThe Old Cider Press, 83\\nThe Boy Who Never Returned, 85\\nJames Newton Matthews, 87\\nJoseph, 88\\nLove Is Enough, 90\\nAll s Well, 92\\nPretty Soon, 94\\nWhat Is Your Life? 96\\nThe Day We Seined the Dam, 98\\nThe Old Zion Church, 100\\nRight On, 102\\nThe Back Log s Blaze, 107\\nTaylor of Africa, 109\\nThe Boy We Never Saw, in\\nMary, 114\\nThe Bluffs of Kickapoo, 116\\nVictor Hugo, 120\\nThe Last Sermon, 122\\nSomething in the Summer, 125\\nWhere the Cork Goes Down, 131\\nWhere Are the Heroes? 134\\nJim s Meeting, 136\\nThe Brook, 140\\nThe Dogwood Tree, 144\\nGod s Manuscript, 146\\nThe Unknown, 147\\nOn Christmas Eve, 149\\nCommon Things, 151\\nPictures of the Past, 153", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "KNEE DEEP\\niiHEY call Knee deep, knee deep,\\nto-night in the marsh below,\\nDown by the bank where the rank\\nsword-grasses and calamus grow\\nThey are the toilers who make the\\nbells for the winter sprites.\\nAll keeping time to a rhyme they\\nwork thro the summer nights.\\nWhile up from the swampy forge the sparks of the fire-\\nflies rise\\nO er the pool where wading lilies make love, thro half-\\nshut eyes,\\nTo the whippoorwill, who scolds like a shrew at the\\nfluffy owl,\\nWhile the night-hawk shuffles by, like a monk in a\\nvelvet cowl,", "height": "2984", "width": "1954", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "lo KNEE DEEP\\nAnd the bat weaves inky weft thro the white star-beams\\nthat peep\\nDown thro the cypress boughs, wh^re the frogs all sing\\nKnee deep.\\nStrange that the spell of a song should summon a man\\nlike me\\nBack thro the bygone years to the scenes that used to be,\\nWhen earth was hid from heaven by one rose-hedge, and\\nthrough\\nThis bourne the blessed angels looked, and asphodel\\nodors blew;\\nStrange the invisible choir, deep hid in the swaying\\nsedge,\\nShould woo my mind to wander again down to the\\nwater s edge\\nBut whenever I hear that carol clear, across the wide\\nmorass,\\nAll the evening calm and the twilight balm into my\\nbeing pass;\\nFrom oiF my soul the sorrows roll, and I feel my spirit leap\\nWith exultant joy as when, a boy, I shouted back,\\nKnee deep\\nKnee deep I wade in the winding brook with buttercups\\no erblown\\nThe gold upon its rippled breast half hidden and half\\nshown", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "KNEE DEEP ii\\nKnee deep in the billows of marigolds, across the mead-\\nows fair,\\nThat dance upon the wanton winds and toss their yellow\\nhair;\\nKnee deep where the bubbles of clover break upon the\\nsummer sea,\\nAs thick as the stars that shine upon the breast of\\neternity\\nKnee deep in litter of autumn leaves I rustle toward the\\nplace\\nWhere the rabbit unaffrighted sits, and washes her inno-\\ncent face;\\nSong of the quivering culms and osiers, I am wading\\nagain, in truth,\\nKnee deep in the stream of Memory, that flows from the\\nland of Youth.", "height": "2984", "width": "1954", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "WHEN THE GOLD IS ON THE WILLOW\\nHEN the gold is on the willow,\\nand the purple on the brier,\\nNot hoary hair or heavy care\\ncan still my wild desire\\nTo race across the uplands, over\\nMemory s tender turf,\\nAnd dive out of my sorrows in\\nthe dogwood s bloomy surf\\nO blue were violets in our youth,\\nand blue were April skies,\\n.And blue the early song-bird s wings, but bluer were\\nthe eyes\\nThat, in that land of long ago, looked thro the window\\npane,\\nAnd saw the tulips nod to us amid the slanting rain.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "WHEN THE GOLD IS ON THE WILLOW 13\\nWhere all the dusk was glowing with our ruddy cottage\\nfire,\\nWhen the gold was on the willow, and the purple on the\\nbrier.\\nWhen the gold is on the willow, and the purple on the\\nbrier,\\nThe ducats of the dandelions have paid old Winter s\\nhire,\\nAnd sent him shuffling northward in garb of tattered\\nsnow;\\nWhite-tasseled birches after him their balmy odors\\nthrow.\\nCarousing in the bramble brake the brown bees, booz-\\ning, sip,\\nAnd up the river s cataracts the shining salmon slip.\\nThe schoolboy s spirit leaveth him upon the weary\\nseat,\\nAnd over loamy furrows leaps, with lightsome heart, to\\ngreet\\nThe chipmunk on the mossy wall, the bullfrog in the\\nmire,\\nWhen the gold is on the willow, and the purple on the\\nbrier.\\nWhen the gold is on the willow, and the purple on the\\nbrier,\\nHe whistles the cantata of the blackbird s noisy choir,", "height": "2984", "width": "1954", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "14 WHEN THE GOLD 15 ON THE WILLOW\\nAnd all the murmurous music of a manumitted stream\\nSings soft around his naked feet, where shallow ripples\\ngleam,\\nAs if the loops of crystal wherein the lad doth wade\\nHad threaded through the lilies of some Paradise\\narcade,\\nAnd little laughing angels had tucked their tunics\\nhigh.\\nTo plash across its limpid shoals before it left the sky\\nAnd still it lilts the melody of lute, and harp, and lyre.\\nWhen the gold is on the willow, and the purple on the\\nbrier.\\nWhen the gold is on the willow, and the purple on the\\nbrier,\\nIt my be sin to say it, but I fear that I shall tire\\nOf heaven s eternal summer, and sometimes I will\\nyearn\\nTo see, across the greening swale, a budding maple\\nburn.\\nMy soul can ne er be satisfied where sweet Spring never\\nhath\\nHer way along the mountain side or by the meadow\\npath,\\nWhere kingcups never catch the sun, or bluebells mock\\nthe sky,\\nOr trout beneath the foam-wreaths hide, or bass jump at\\nthe fly,", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "WHEN THE GOLD IS ON THE WILLOW\\n15\\nAnd, in some homesick moment, for a furlough I 11\\ninquire,\\nWhen the gold is on the willow, and the purple on the\\nbrier.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "THE SUGAR CAMP\\nHEN you want a treat, delicious\\nto eat\\ni JiM S/ /f I P bees;\\ni\\\\mi m i\\\\-\\\\\\\\\\\\)vy^mim.iMi p^gg p^^j.\\nmmk\\nMarch snow, to a bush of\\nsugar-trees\\nStep down the hill, when all is still,\\nand soft blue smoke is curled\\nIn the frosty haze, where ice-gems blaze, when sundown\\ntakes the world.\\nNo honey of flowers in this world of ours, no sap of the\\nSouthern cane.\\nMelts on the lip like the sweets that drip from a wounded\\nmaple s grain;\\nAnd if you take up a gourd or a cup of the plain old-\\nfashioned stamp,\\nAnd sip some juice, you will then turn loose and shout\\nin the sugar camp.\\nThe giants there have strength to spare; their seed no\\nman has sown;\\nBut the Lord, who willed our good, has tilled and tended\\nthem alone.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "THE SUGAR CTHP 17\\nOne hundred j-ears of smiles and tears of the sunshine\\nand the dew\\nHave gone to build the tree that spilled its blood to-\\nday for you.\\nO to wander free, as I used to be, through that grand\\nprimeval grove.\\nMeandering slow, as I used to go, with the sled and the\\nteam I drove\\nDo n t talk to me of the barley-bree, that steeps in a still-\\nhouse damp;\\nThere never was wine came out of the vine like the sap\\nof a sugar camp.\\nWhat are stately palms in the Syrian calms, or gardens\\nof olives dim.\\nTo one w^ho goes where the mighty rows of the maples\\nmake way for him,\\nWhen the sap runs free as the melody of the robin above\\nthe shed,\\nWith the whole white earth beneath him and the whole\\nblue sky o erhead?\\nFor the happy man looks into the pan where the amber\\nsweetness swirls.\\nAnd sees the face and lightsome grace of the best of the\\ncountry girls,\\nAnd he seems to see that home to be, where, under the\\nwell-trimmed lamp.\\nHis wife doth wait, when he comes home late from work\\nin the sugar camp.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "i8 THE SUGT^R C?TMP\\nSo he drives his sleigh down a winding way, along the\\nmoonlit lanes,\\nTo where the light of a farmhouse, bright, shines from\\nthe window-panes;\\nThen, cuddled snug in the ample rug, o er the snowy\\nroads they whirr,\\nWhile his sweetheart eats the spicy sweets he made that\\nday for her.\\nWith tinkle of bells and song that swells, how gleaming\\nmiles unroll\\nAnd he tastes, so plain, the flavor again as he takes his\\nlover s toll\\nFor the sleigh is narrow, and one swift arrow from\\nCupid, the rosy scamp,\\nStrikes man and maid from his ambuscade as they circle\\nthe sugar camp.\\nHow he smiles next day, as he toils away stirring the\\nbubbling trough\\nFor he must wait to know his fate till the night of the\\nsugaring-ofF.\\nCupid makes his bows of wood that grows in the sugar-\\nthicket s shade,\\nAnd dips each shaft, clear down to the haft, in the syrup\\nwhen t is made.\\nSo all ends right, and I say to-night, though we have\\nsuffered and toiled,", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "THE SUGAR cnnp\\n19\\nWe could both forget our sorrows yet in a dipper of sap\\nhalf-boiled.\\nWhen we get to heaven we 11 kiss our folks, then start\\nfor a happy tramp\\nUp toward the headwaters of Paradise, just to work in\\nthe sugar camp.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "THE COUNTPY POAD\\nLD meandering country road,\\nto thy track I turn to-day,\\nWhere the carven beeches spread, and the runnel slips\\naway,\\nTo glint across the shallows and gleam around the\\nstones.\\nAnd to croon among the cresses in caressing undertones\\nThat answer to the thrushes hid within the maple shade.\\nToward the town the wagons creep, along the dusty\\ngrade.\\nWhere the old covered bridge, with catalpa blossoms\\nsnowed,\\nlyike an old-fashioned brooch, clasps the old country road.\\nI see the brood of butterflies that border every pool\\nBeneath the spreading elms, where the shadows are so\\ncool;", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "THE COUNTRY R07\\\\D 21\\nAnd the rivulets of sheep, flowing slowly past the farms;\\nThe ballad-singing shepherds bearing lambs in their\\narms;\\nAnd the tawny tiger-lilies, their bells all spider-spun,\\nEach with bumble-bee for clapper, ringing matins to the\\nsun,\\nAs I rode from the harvest-field upon the swaying load,\\nBrushed by the locust boughs on that old country road.\\nThere is the little village, so old-fashioned and so snug.\\nWith the highway s arm around it in the fatherliest hug.\\nWhere each cottage wears at evening a smoky purple\\ndress,\\nWith a selvedge of the sunset to set off its loveliness.\\nAbove the door the roses bloom and hide the lintel\\nhigh,\\nAnd along the fence the pansies make a pasture for the\\neye,\\nWhile the open dressers preach all the hospitable code\\nOf the friendly ethics common on that old country road.\\nif that weaver s lassie, rinsing linen white as snow.\\nCould whiten out my soul again as it was long ago\\nO, perhaps, if I could press again that meadow with my\\nface,\\n1 could cool my weary heart with the turf of that old\\nplace;", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "22 THE COUNTl^Y ROAD\\nAnd at the end of life, in that ancient burial-plot,\\nHow sweet would be my slumber all uncrowded and\\nforgot\\nAnd I think sometimes my spirit, from its heavenly\\nabode.\\nWould come down and walk, at twilight, up that old\\ncountry road.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "HIS SWEETHEART S THROAT\\nTHAT reminds me I reckon I\\nnever told\\nThis camp how Wes. won a\\nmedal of gold.\\nI can hear, to-night, the Chancellor say,\\nIn the southern school down Georgia way,\\nWhoever These beans are about the stuff,\\nBut this bull-beef is so awful tough,\\nI can scarcely chew the gravy and\\nThis coffee is hot as a Texas brand,\\nWhoever is first on the final vote\\nWill hang his prize at his sweetheart s throat.\\nWell, I kept the tally, and I tell you\\nHe roped that crowd as clever, and threw\\nIt as clean as a steer that hits the sky,\\nIn just two minutes from stirrup to tie.\\nI can see, in this crackling mesquite blaze.\\nThe scene as it was in those old days;\\n23", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "24 HIS SWEETHCHRT S THROAT\\nThe handsome girls, high-born and rich,\\nWho beamed on the orators, wondering which\\nWould gain the glory, and then devote\\nHis prize to hang at his sweetheart s throat.\\nHe is not a saint he can bite a word\\nInto blazing brimstone when his herd\\nIs mavericked, and he told Kid s breed\\nThat the timber-wolves on them would feed\\nIf they lifted his but I wish you all\\nHad seen that classic college hall\\nWith fine old jewels, and fine new frocks.\\nAnd the boys in buckles and bushy locks.\\nWhen Wes. came out, in his home-made coat.\\nTo win the prize for his sweetheart s throat.\\nWhen he cleared the corral and took the track,\\nWe all stood up, and shook the shack\\nWith shouts for Wes., with his curly hair,\\nAnd his eye like the eye of a Pinto mare\\nFor fire, and as slim as a yucca stem.\\nStars how he turned and swept at them,\\nWith voice as sweet as the tinkling bell\\nOn a Brazos spur, and a speech that fell\\nLike a silver riata, coiled to tote\\nAway that prize for his sweetheart s throat.\\nHe pulled up the picket-pins, took the lead\\nOf that beautiful bunch in a wild stampede", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "HIS SWEETHEAm S THI^OAT\\n25\\nUp the coulee to heaven and back again.\\nWell, I have seen women weep, and men,\\nBut I say now, when Wes. marched down\\nTo his mother, in her linsey gown.\\nWho stood there waiting for a kiss,\\nAnd just took her weary hands in his.\\nWe cried, and cheered, and howled, to note\\nHe hung his prize at his sweetheart s throat.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "Hl^\\nHE swing of the sea, the billow s\\nlong beat,\\nFlow thro this tale that floats\\nout of the fog.\\nA rude hearse was rattled along an old street;\\nNo mourner was near it not even a dog.\\nA wandering sailor, blown in from the wave,\\nWent up to the wagon that carried the dead,\\nKept close behind till it came to the grave\\nOf the stranger, and stood with his uncovered head\\nTill the coffin was covered, heaved a deep sigh,\\nAnd said, I thought some one should just stand by.\\nHear the moan of the blast, the rain on the beach,\\nCurlew s cry thro the spray, in this man s gentle\\ndeed.\\nDid the wail of his weanlings, who wait for him, teach\\nThis sun-browned old saint such a heavenly creed?\\nDid some fell affliction his own life had felt\\nScud o er his sad soul as the pauper went past\\n26", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "STAND BY VI\\nDid unspeakable loss make his sympathy melt\\nFor a poor, friendless mortal, forsaken at last?\\nDid a sob sag his breast, or a tear wet his eye\\nI know not, and care not, because he stood by.\\nStood by all alone on that wide village road;\\nStood by in the bonds of the great brotherhood;\\nStood by in the grand old Samaritan code\\nThat t is fine to be friendly, t is good to do good.\\nHeaven bless him, and bear him with favoring gales\\nTo his far-away home. Should the wild tempest\\nsmite,\\nWhen waves take his deck and winds take his sails.\\nSurely One will walk near in the watch of the night.\\nWho will say to him softly, Fear not, it is I.\\nI saw thee that day and have come to stand by.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "HE LEADETH ME\\nN the Rocky Mountains,\\nthe engineers say,\\nWherever the water\\ndares to come down,\\nA railway dares to go up;\\nand they\\nCoil around the loftiest Titan s crown\\nThe loops of the lasso of winding track\\nAnd up this Romeo ladder they glide.\\nTo smirch with the murk of the smoky stack\\nThe stainless hue of the clouds that hide\\nThe brow of old Blanco, scarred with age,\\nWhere we rode that night on the narrow gauge.\\nStartled, we heard the shrill whistle scream,\\nAnd flocks of echoes, scared by its breath.\\nFluttered and flew thro the hissing steam.\\nNear was the summit, but nearer Death\\n28", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "HE LEADETH ME 29\\nStood beckoning us. We felt the lurch,\\nAnd heard the brave engine wrench and strain,\\nThen backward, down from the eagle perch\\nTo the far-oflf valley reeled the train.\\nFear blanched our faces, when one outspoke\\nLeap for your lives the coupling s broke.\\nThe brakes are useless, another one cried,\\nAs into the gorge, with a cosmic whirr,\\nWe fell. Let the poets tell the night-ride\\nOf Paul Revere, with his red-wet spur;\\nOr Sheridan, when the long race was done,\\nSmiting Defeat on his boastful face\\nOf the three who started when only one\\nBrought the good news from Ghent to Aix\\nBut the thrill of them all was in our veins.\\nSwept from the peak to the distant plains.\\nWe followed the foamy stream, and swerved\\nWhere white stars lay in emerald deeps\\nRoared through snow-sheds leaned and curved\\nHung pendulous over the crumbling steeps\\nLike a meteor burning the midnight air\\nSwayed inward, scouring the granite bank\\nWhile, crashing amid the cries of prayer.\\nTorn from its moorings, the water-tank\\nWas hurled and tossed in the clanging car\\nThat bore us away to the judgment-bar.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "30 HE LCZ^DETH HE\\nOne slip or stumble would surely fling\\nUs all through the gate of eternity,\\nWhen a white-haired woman began to sing\\nThat ancient lyric, He Ivcadeth Me.\\nNo wavering air, but clear and full\\nIt rose and fell on that fearsome din,\\nTriumphant as swims a gleaming gull\\nThrough the ocean storm she revels in.\\nOur cradle rocking, the I^ord beat time,\\nAnd we were swinging to that old rhyme.\\nHer faith laid hold on the Father s arm\\nWe joined the chorus, and cast our fears\\nTo the howling winds; there could be no harm.\\nWith the seas, and suns, and choiring spheres,\\nWe swung harmonious, rhythmic sweet.\\nIn the heavenly temple vague and vast;\\nWe clung, like little ones, to His feet\\nTill safely stopped on the plain at last.\\nAs the train descended our souls had trod\\nUp the ladder of song to the throne of God.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "WHERE THE OAK LOG CROSSED THE STREAM", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "WHERE THE OAK LOG CROSSED THE\\nSTREAM\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2\u00e2\u0096\u00a0ti JI #i^ EMORY is busy with the old folks. Like\\nthat Bible brother s wife,\\nWe are fond of glancing backward o er\\nthe scenes of early life\\nAnd to-night, while sitting musing, when the dusk was\\ncoming down,\\nI forgot the children playing, and the murmur of the\\ntown.\\nWhen you called me I was driving, thro the bars and\\ndown the lane.\\nThat faithful cow of father s, walking by her once again.\\nWith my sun-tanned arm caressing her neck s soft vel-\\nvet skin.\\nAnd telling her the secrets and the sorrows hid within\\nThe deep heart of a laddie, when she turned and licked\\nmy hand,\\nAnd breathed clover-scented comfort any boy could\\nunderstand.\\n33", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "34 WHEI^E THE OAK LOG CROSSED THE STRETCH\\nO a whiff of mint and pennyroyal upon the air did seem\\nTo blow from Brindle s pasture, where the oak log\\ncrossed the stream.\\nShe would meditate a moment, then the coolest place\\nwould seek,\\nWhere swaying willow branches trailed their fringes in\\nthe creek.\\nAnd then set her agate hoofs in the gravel s polished\\ngold,\\nTo dip her dappled muzzle where the violet ripples\\nrolled\\nAnd such long, delicious drinking, such a thankful up-\\nward look.\\nAs she plashed, with dripping nostrils, to the margin of\\nthe brook;\\nThen a cloud of mist upblown, and a low, deep-chested\\nmoan,\\nA kind of humble dumb thanksgiving and returning God\\nhis own\\nThen along the road together we meandered, slow and\\nstill,\\nWhere katydid was calling figures for the fire-flies\\nquadrille.\\nAnd I was wandering in haunted lands of legend and of\\ndream,\\nWhile coming thro the shadows where the oak log\\ncrossed the stream.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "WHERE THE Om\\\\ LOG CROSSED THE STREHH 35\\nI am thinking much this season of the glad old long\\nago;\\nPerhaps I am failing, Helen, dear old wife, I hardly\\nknow,\\nAnd there may be sin in looking back; that Scripture\\nsister went\\nThro a lot of trouble by it had a dreadful punishment\\nBut if she was as happy and half as full of high delight\\nWhile looking o er her shoulder as I am this blessed\\nnight,\\nPerhaps the end was peaceful. If I was sure I had to\\ndie,\\nAnd never see another sun arise across the eastern sky,\\nI would like to meet the river the darksome flood of\\ndeath\\nBeside that twilight village road, and, with my parting\\nbreath.\\nSay good-bye to all my loved ones, with the other shore\\nagleam,\\nAnd wade out from earth forever where the oak log\\ncrossed the stream.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS Day,\\nO Christmas Day\\nO Babe, who in the\\nmanger lay,\\nOnce more thy star its splendor spills\\nAcross the sleeping Syrian hills,\\nOnce more the strange old story thrills\\nThe mind of man, till, sweet and clear,\\nOur songs run round the board, whose cheer\\nMakes laughing children leap, and say,\\nO Christmas Day, O Christmas Day!\\nO Christmas Day, O Christmas Day\\nHow selfishness doth melt away\\nAll eyes with kindly joy do shine,\\nAll lips say yours, instead of mine;\\nAll hearts receive the Child divine,", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "O CHI^ISTI 1?\\\\S D7W 37\\nWhose dimpled hands do now caress\\nThis sad old world in tenderness\\nBlue breaks through the skies of gray,\\nO Christmas Day, O Christmas Day\\nO Christmas Day, O Christmas Day!\\nHow every year doth spread the sway\\nOf that dear King whose humble birth\\nAwoke the anthem Peace on earth,\\nAnd taught the weary world the worth\\nThat in the lowly soul may dwell\\nWhere rules the Prince Immanuel,\\nWhen lyove has had his wondrous way,\\nO Christmas Day, O Christmas Day!\\nO Christmas Day, O Christmas Day!\\nAll hate and envy thou dost slay\\nBuried deep beneath the snow,\\nHid by holly and mistletoe.\\nO er them advent angels go.\\nHark to the choir of chiming bells\\nThis is the story the steeple tells\\nGod has come to this world to stay,\\nO Christmas Day, O Christmas Dayl", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "HIS nmw\\nIT is told of Angelo, that once he came\\nInto the lowly cottage of a friend,\\nAnd found it empty yet he left no name,\\nBut one great curve did swiftly bend\\nOn the blank canvas near.\\nWhen, on return, his comrade did ex-\\nclaim,\\nBehold, the Buonarotti hath been here\\nI saw a splendid rainbow span the sky\\nWith its mysterious and mighty arch\\nIn stately grandeur sweeping heaven high.\\nO er which a tempest, with majestic\\nmarch,\\nIn thunderous music trod.\\nLo, this small studio, our world,\\nsaid I,\\nHath this day had a visit from our God.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "MIRROR LAKE\\nrHEN Day cometh over the dim\\nmountain tops,\\nShe seeth, far down in the en-\\nchanted copse,\\nHer fair face reflected in that magic glass\\nLaid on the lawn where the Merced doth\\ndoth pass.\\nLo, the vale hangs inverted, enfolded in firs,\\nThro fathoms of crystal the soaring lark whirrs,\\nAnd seemeth to sink into eternity\\nIn the marvelous mirror of Yosemite.\\nShe lingereth there, o er the sky lintel bent,\\nAnd seeth beneath her the blue firmament,\\nWatching the mists of the morning that scale\\nThe path of the winding and perilous trail,\\nThe steeps of the Sierra s gray monochrome,\\nThe storm-smitten summit of awful South Dome,\\nWhen by the great portal of red porphyry\\nThe sun drives his car into Yosemite.\\n39", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "40 niRROR LT^KE\\nBelow, in clea-r water, the tall turrets swing,\\nThe bold cedar-trees to the terraces cling,\\nThe sevenfold rainbow is flinging its span\\nFrom Bridal Veil Falls unto El Capitan.\\nAs spun by the sun from the foamy cascade,\\nWhen arching across the aerial glade.\\nIt looks like the girder of God s balcony.\\nFrom which He looks down into Yosemite.\\nSometimes in the dawning the clouds seem to stand\\nOn a far-away ledge, like an angelic band\\nThat pauses in flight, on the opaline verge\\nWhere the sky and the snow into mystery merge;\\nThen Day to the seraphs shouts o er the abyss,\\nO shining and sinless ones, answer me this:\\nCan aught in your heaven of heavens e er be\\nAs sublime as this splendor of Yosemite?", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "AT EARLY CANDLE-LIGHT\\nHERE is no night in heaven,\\nso the circuit-rider said\\nNow, blessings on his saintl}\\nheart, and on his silver head,\\nHe little knew how I had\\ndreamed, when all my work\\nwas done,\\nOf meeting, in my Father s\\nhouse my long-lost little one.\\nO how my yearning soul shall miss if heaven has no\\nnight\\nThat hour of all hours the best, the early candle-light!\\nI know the dawn is lovely when the rosy wreaths of\\ncloud\\nFall into purple furrows which the sun has newly plowed;\\nThe prairie, like an open hearth, on which the day doth\\nkneel\\nTo blow the coals of morning into splendors that reveal\\nThe colors that are curled within the woven mists of\\nwhite.\\nBut t is not so hushed and holy as the early candle-\\nlight.\\n41", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "42 ?rr EARLY CANDLE-LIGHT\\nAnd sweet the hoou in summer, when thro the lattice\\nblows\\nThe wind that softly whispers where the cool clematis\\ngrows\\nThe wheat within the valley bending in the breeze,\\nAnd drowsy cattle wading the tarn among the trees,\\nThe eagle o er them sailing thro the sky of lazulite,\\nBut it can not bring the comfort of the early candle-\\nlight.\\nOft I picture eve in heaven, where not a leaf doth stir,\\nWhen every harp grows silent, hushed each lute and\\ndulcimer\\nWhere, thro the quiet twilight, down a path of Paradise,\\nToward the gate comes baby Kate, with gladness in her\\neyes,\\nAnd on the paneled pearl lifts the latch of jasper bright.\\nTo greet me there when home I fare at early candle-\\nlight.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "DEAD IN KHARTOUM\\nO, Gordon is dead in Khartoum!\\nThe oak of England is prone\\nThe crape on her banners is\\nblack,\\nThe step of her legions is slack;\\nUpholding her banner alone\\nHe has gone to his glorious doom.\\nIvO, Gordon is dead in Khartoum\\nlyO, Gordon is dead in Khartoum\\nThe damp of the Nile on his brow.\\nGreat Britain, the fateful eclipse\\nThat lies on his eyes and his lips\\nTells thee how he kept his vow.\\nDeath came as a bride to a groom.\\nLo, Gordon is dead in Khartoum", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "44 DE7\\\\D IN KHARTOUM\\nlyO, Gordon is dead in Khartoum!\\nHis toil is all over and past.\\nO Albion, could st thou but fold\\nHis form with thy warriors old\\nThou kept the best till the last\\nNow afar he goes into the gloom.\\nI/O, Gordon is dead in Khartoum\\nLo, Gordon is dead in Khartoum\\nBut our children shall wear his name.\\nEgypt, take him to hold and keep;\\nIn thy pyramid let him sleep\\nWith thy worthies of ancient fame\\nFor him will thy gods make room.\\nho, Gordon is dead in Khartoum!", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0052.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "THE OLD TRAIL\\n(al^HRO columns of cedars begirt with\\ni\\\\^7y ferns,\\nOver peaks where the pinons climb\\ntogether\\nIn the crimson glow where the sunset\\nburns,\\nAnd the purple fringe of the moun-\\ntain heather\\nWhere the otter s pelt, in the emerald pool,\\nMid dancing foam-bells dives and glistens,\\nAnd the ousel flutes in the aspens cool.\\nWhere the dappled deer, affrighted listens.\\nWhen she hears our hoof-beats, far away.\\nRuns the famous old trail to Santa Fe.\\nA highway to heaven. The bearded and strong\\nLeft white-topped wagons and weary cattle,\\nAnd, bidding this sad old world So long,\\nTheir souls went out in the Indian battle,\\n45", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0053.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "46 THE OLD TRT^IL\\nSet free by the red Apache spears.\\nIn clumps of cactus their bones are sleeping,\\nStrewn with the skeletons of their steers,\\nAnd a rattlesnake in the white ribs creeping\\nMakes a gruesome epitaph, Mate, I say,\\nFor a freighter who fought on the Santa Fe.\\nThose tunicked old settlers w^ere clear grit,\\nAnd I reckon their women even stancher\\nOf soul, if a fellow will cipher it.\\nYou mind that home of the murdered rancher;\\nIn the crumbling corner the rifle stands,\\nWith a rotten strap and a rusty buckle\\nBut where is the wife, whose loving hands\\nTrained over the porch that honeysuckle?\\nAnd where are the babes who used to play\\nNeath its scented shade on the Santa Fe?\\nYou have not forgotten the ford, I know;\\nThat wagon-corral, and the log-fires in it;\\nOld Baldy, lifting his brow of snow,\\nAs white as your honest head this minute,\\nO the yarns we spun, the songs we sung\\nOf home, sweet home and blue Juniata,\\nWhile up in the pines the new moon hung,\\nAnd pshaw, old partner, what s the matter?\\nDoes it hurt you yet, when your hair is gray.\\nWhat she said that night on the Santa Fe?", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0054.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "THE OLD TRPilL 47\\nWell, he went down at your elbow, Dave,\\nIn that midnight fracas across the carry;\\nYou helped us heap up the lonely grave\\nIn the Cottonwood grove, over handsome Harry.\\nWe found him dead underneath his steed.\\nWith his empty sixes and stained serape.\\nJust as he fell when the mad stampede\\nFlung far from him these two unhappy\\nOld chums, who tell of that red affray\\nWith tears, as they think of the Santa Fe.\\nGone, stirrup, riata, and rowel-bell;\\nThe bellowing herd, in its wild commotion;\\nThe breathless rush, from the chaparrel,\\nOver the sweep of that grassy ocean.\\nBut 3^et, my comrade, the road is etched\\nOn the flowery prairie, fresh and vernal;\\nAnd, dear old friend, when we are fetched.\\nBy Death, beyond the white range eternal.\\nWe will wind to the realms of endless day\\nUp the shining trail of the Santa Fe.\\ns^\\ng^fiJ-", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0055.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "O CHRISTMAS TREE\\nHE Palm is the king of the lands\\nof the sun,\\nAnd his touseled plumes are\\ntossed\\nWhere the wild gazelles the\\nwinds outrun,\\nOn the marge of the mirage\\nlost.\\nHe stands as straight as a\\ntemple shaft,\\nAnd his laughing leafage\\ngreen\\nFlings fragrant shade on the fountain, quaffed\\nBy the wandering Bedoueen.\\nBut no palm-fruit, when peeled, can be\\nAs sweet as the fruit of the Christmas Tree.\\nThe Oak is the king of the lands of the corn\\nWhen the tempest clouds the skies,\\nAnd walks the world in splendid scorn,\\nHow its wrath the oak defies\\nHe stands serene, elect, apart.\\nAnd he drinks, from a dewy knoll,", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0056.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "o cimisTriAS tree 49\\nThe sap that sings in his shaggy heart\\nAnd strengthens his stout old soul.\\nTho he boasts of the proudest pedigree,\\nHe doffs his crown to the Christmas Tree.\\nThe Pine is the king of the lands of snow,\\nSole lord of the leagues of hills\\nWhere the stars in shining clusters grow,\\nAnd the moon its splendor spills\\nOn the edge of the earth s gray parapet,\\nWhere he taketh the dawn s red torch\\nTo rekindle the east. This warder, set\\nBy the pillars of God s white porch.\\nThro the gates ajar can often see.\\nIn the Father s house, the Christmas Tree.\\nAs the kings of old, on their bended knees,\\nBowed down to the Babe divine,\\nTo-day behold these high-born trees\\nThe Palm, the Oak, and the Pine\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nCome over the hills to Bethlehem,\\nWith their gifts of spicery,\\nLo, while the star that guideth them\\nIts refulgence throws on thee.\\nThe Christmas bells fling, wild and free.\\nThy Peace on earth, O Christmas Tree!\\n4", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0057.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "EASTER MORNING\\nTHE dawn of Easter mornine! O the\\n^v sad, sweet day,\\nWhen thro the laughing lilies loving\\nMary went her way\\nTo the place where He was buried, to\\nweep beside His tomb,\\nri?* Where the cedar and the willow tree were\\nwaving in the gloom,\\nAnd the myrtle and the almond tree were budding into\\nbloom.\\nUpon her wistful forehead all the waking wonder shone\\nWhen she saw the gracious angel sitting on the guarded\\nstone.\\nWhen she heard him softly say,\\nLo, 3 our Master is not dead; He is risen, as He said,\\nIn the dawn of Easter morning. O the sad, sweet day\\nO the dawn of Easter morning! O the sad, sweet day\\nWhen Jesus conquered Death alone, and ended all his\\nsway,\\nlyist! how Magdalene is calling all the weary world to\\nher,\\n50", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0058.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "EH5TER HORNING 5i\\nWhere she holds the bruised cassia, the balsam and the\\nmyrrh,\\nAnd stands with gaze enraptured by the open sepulcher.\\nSee the snowy linen folded, which he nevermore will\\nneed,\\nHear the happy woman telling that The Lord is risen\\nindeed.\\nNow the shouting Christian may\\nStand within that vault and sing, O Death, where is\\nthy sting?\\nIn the dawn of Easter morning. O the sad, sweet day\\nO the dawn of Easter morning O the sad, sweet day\\nWhen we were all delivered from dominion of the clay.\\nWithin that burial-garden how the heart grows calm\\nHow the bough of cypress changes into the branch of\\npalm\\nHow the wailing requiem rises into the wedding psalm,\\nBecause our great Emmanuel, the grave could not con-\\ntain,\\nComes back to be a comrade with his own elect again.\\nIn the dusky sunrise gray\\nlyooks and speech are just the same, calling Mary by\\nher name\\nIn the dawn of Easter morning. O the sad, sweet day\\nO the dawn of Easter morning O the sad, sweet day\\nWhen the resurrection glory on the urn doth play.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0059.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "52\\nCASTER HORNING\\nlyct not your heart be troubled, your place I will pre-\\npare;\\nFor you must be beside Me now, wherever I may fare.\\nHenceforward all My blessedness My bride will surely\\nshare.\\nO Savior, there is nothing in Thy happy heaven above\\nThat we desire a portion in so much as in Thy love.\\nOften hast Thou heard us pray,\\nEloi, when all the race is run, welcome us with Thy\\nWell done,\\nIn the dawn of Easter morning. O the sad, sweet day", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0060.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "LOGAN or ILLINOIS\\nALLANT brother to Bayard, and\\nSidney, and they\\nWho galloped in glory so\\nlong ago,\\nlyike them, without fear or\\nreproach, I say,\\nWith as steady a soul,\\nand as stout a blow,\\nAnd as loyal in love which he gave to her\\nWhose prayers were the pinions of faith,\\nto poise\\nMid the smoke, and the din, and the death-\\nbolt s whirr\\nLogan of Illinois.\\nO how bright was his sword when he broke\\na path\\nWhere the bristling bayonets slivered the sun\\nInto splinters of gold, as he rode in w^rath\\nAnd never drew rein till the field was won.\\nS3", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0061.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "54 LOGAN or ILLINOIS\\nIvike a snow-suckled stream from a crag-crest flung,\\nOne sudden precipitate shaft of turquoise,\\nBorn of a breed that old Homer has sung,\\nLogan of Illinois.\\nIt was splendid to see him sweep into the fight.\\nWith his dominant figure and dauntless air,\\nTo speed his flight and to cheer the right\\nWhen the shout of his soldiers shook the air,\\nAs he plowed his way to the perilous place\\nAt the battery s breast with his Western boys.\\nHis great soul lighting his glorious face,\\nIvOgan of Illinois.\\nO thou Prairie State, he is dear to you\\nThis knightl)^ one who has lately gone\\nTo sit in the temple beside the two\\nWho sleep by the Hudson and Sangamon.\\nIn the Hall of the Heroes thy children meet;\\nHigh fame the proud mother enjoys,\\nWho has Lincoln to welcome and Grant to greet\\nlyOgan of Illinois.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0062.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "OUR WHITE LADYE\\nsin liaemoriB of iftmctf CUjabett) WlUarb\u00e2\u0080\u0094 1839-1898\\nPALE she lies, in sweet repose\\nNot whitelier lie the winter snows\\nOn this sad earth. From her cold\\nbrow\\nUnloose the braided myrtles nov/,\\nAnd bind the wreath of cypress there.\\nPut lilies in her hands and hair\\nCome, gather round her, ye who stand\\nFor God, and home, and native land.\\nDoth thine anointed vision see,\\nBrave daughter of democracy.\\nHow Church and State together bow\\nAbove thy casket, weeping now\\nThey loved thee so, best of our best,\\nThou Miriam of the mighty West,\\n55", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0063.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "56 OUR WHITE LADYC\\nWho dauntless led thy deathless band\\nFor God, and home, and native land.\\nNo woman cried, O I,ord, how long?\\nBut thou fared forth to right her wrong;\\nNo man went, shackled, down to hell\\nBut on his gyves thy hot tears fell.\\nThou this old world in ribbons white\\nDidst lift, as loops of cosmic light-\\nUpbear it in the Almighty Hand\\nFor God, and home, and native land.\\nWhite Ladye, though before thine eyes\\nThe portals fair of Paradise\\nUnfold on thine enraptured view\\nThe heaven that shone thy white soul thro\\nThough high the victor s anthem swells\\nWhere thou dost walk the asphodels.\\nStill shalt thou lead us, still command\\nFor God, and home, and native laud.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0064.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "THE BREADWINNERS BALLAD\\nT the break of day and the set of\\nsun we hear their heavy tread,\\nGod s old brigade, all undis-\\nmayed, they battle for daily\\nbread\\nAnd they laugh to know that,\\nlong ago, the Lord of life and\\ndeath\\nFared forth at dawn, and home at dusk, with them in\\nNazareth.\\nForeheads white for lack of light, or brows all brown\\nwith grime,\\nTheir garments black with soot and slack, or gray with\\nmason s lime.\\nThey ring the trowel, push the plane, they travel the\\nstormy deep,\\nThey click the type and clang the press when loved\\nones are asleep\\nThro the city street and the country lane their lusty\\nvoices ring,\\nBy the roaring forge in the mountain gorge this cheery\\nsong they sing:\\n57", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0065.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "58 THE BREADWINNERS BALLAD\\nO we maych away in the early morn,\\nAs wc did si?ice the world began.\\nDo yi t muzzle the ox that trcadeth the corn\\nLeave a share for the working-man.\\nSome are workmen coarse and strong, and some are\\ncraftsmen fine;\\nThey set the plow, they steer the raft, they sweat in\\nsunless mine,\\nThey lift the sledge and drive the wedge, they hide\\nwith cunning art\\nThe powder where the spark can tear the mountain s\\nstubborn heart,\\nThey reap the fields of ripened grain and fill the lands\\nwith bread,\\nThey make the ore give up its gold beneath the stamp-\\nmill s tread,\\nThey spread the snowy sail aloft, they sweep the drip-\\nping seine,\\nThey waft the wife a fond farewell, and ne er come\\nhome again.\\nBut they march away in the early morn,\\nAs they did since the ivorld began.\\nDon t muzzle the ox that treadeth the corn;\\nLeave a share for the tvorking-man.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0066.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "THE BREADWINNERS BALUXD 59\\nThey make the fiery furnace flow in streams of spout-\\ning steel,\\nThey bend the planks and brace the ribs along the\\noaken keel,\\nThey fold the flock, they feed the herd, they in the for-\\nest hew.\\nAnd with the whetstone on the sc} the beat labor s sweet\\ntattoo.\\nThey climb the coping, swing the crane, and set the\\ncapstone high.\\nThey stretch the heavy bridge that hangs a roadway in\\nthe sky,\\nThey speed the shuttle, spin the thread, and weave the\\nsilken weft.\\nOr, crushed to death amid the wreck, they leave the\\nhome bereft.\\nBid they march away in the early mor7iy\\nAs they did sitice the world began.\\nDon^t muzzle the ox that treadeth the cor7i;\\nLeave a share for the working-man.\\nIn ancient days they were but serfs, and by the storied\\nNile\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nUnhapp} hordes they drew the cords around the hea-\\nthen pile;\\nWhere Karnak, Tyre, and Carthage stood, where rolls\\nEuphrates wave,", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0067.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "6o THE BRC7\\\\DWINNCr?S B7\\\\LL7\\\\D\\nGrim gods looked down, with stony frown, upon the\\nhapless slave.\\nThat day is past, thank Heaven No more does Man\\nthe Toiler bow\\nHis mighty head with fear and dread; for he is master\\nnow.\\nHis hand is strong, his patience long, his wholesome\\nblood is calm.\\nWithin his soul sits peace enthroned, and on his lips\\nthis psalm:\\nO we inarch aivay in the early morn.\\nAs we did since the world begaii\\nDoii t muzzle the ox that treadeth the corn;\\nLeave a share for the workiiig-man.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0068.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "THE mountain rose on the summit\\ngrows,\\nMany flowerets are far more fair,\\nBut the fearless thing doth climb and\\ncling\\nFar aloft in the shivering air,\\nWhere it lifts its bloom and spills per-\\nfume\\nOn the feet of the foremost pine,\\nWho leads the van of the forest clan.\\nWhere the snow-slide sets its awful ban,\\nOn the edge of the Timber-line.\\nlyO, a maid doth dwell on the rim of hell,\\nIn the end of a sin-cursed street.\\nWhere the sneers are sped about her head\\nAnd the snares set for her feet;", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0069.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "62 ON THE TinBCR-LIMC\\nTho lust may lower, no sweeter flower\\nEver grew on an avenue fine,\\nAnd her heart doth ache to heal and make\\nTheir souls all white for His dear sake\\nOn the edge of the timber-line.\\nlyO, a man doth stand in the borderland,\\nWhere he battles for daily bread\\nFor his children s sake, and doth calmly stake\\nHis all on his God o erhead.\\nBe strong, my brother, some day or other\\nHis saints will the stars outshine\\nWe shall with Him sup, He will fill the cup,\\nAnd His own right hand shall lift us up\\nFrom the edge of the timber-line.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0070.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "snssnrQi^s\\nAINT as the sighing winds which\\nfret\\nWith sweet and subtle harmonies\\n//[The silken strands seolian, set\\nIn mullions old, come memories\\nThat thrill and pass,\\nOf thy wild bole, which warder stood\\nOn bygone bournes. Our sandal-wood,\\nSlim sassafras.\\nI^ike that green tree of life thou sprang\\nFrom out the turf of Paradise,\\nThe heaven of boyhood, but thy tang\\nOf bark and root among the wise\\nTall trees, alas\\nWith leafy laughter did infect\\nThe woods at thy quaint dialect,\\nRude sassafras.\\nThy spicy root had virtue rare\\nThe blood to purge and purify;\\nBut now, amid my toil and care,\\nMy mind hath medicine, for I\\n63", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0071.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "64 SHSSHPR/XS\\nFeel all the crass\\nAnd evil humors of my soul\\nCast off, and thou hast made me whole,\\nRare sassafras.\\nIf, some blest day, when I shall rove\\nBy God s great river, all alone,\\nThy breath, from out the healing grove.\\nAcross the hills is softly blown.\\nAnd o er the grass.\\nThe tears that blur my sight shall be\\nlyOve s tribute then to youth and thee,\\nO sassafras.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0072.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "rOUR rEET ON THE TENDER\\nOUR pictures I see, in a frame quaint and\\nolden,\\nAglow in the twilight, half-gloomy, half-\\ngolden,\\nWhere big beechen logs, all the fireplace\\nfilling,\\nFrom out their rude caskets their rubies are\\nspilling,\\nTo roll o er the hearth in a river of glory.\\nThe wind in the chimney is crooning a story;\\nOn walls and on ceiling the shadows are shifting.\\nAnd down the wide flue a few snowflakes are sifting,\\nWhere brother and sister sit, winsome and slender,\\nAnd face answers face, with four feet on the fender.\\n5 65", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0073.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "66 POUR rCET ON THE TCNDER\\nThen later I see a young man and young maiden,\\nWhose low, wooing language with fervor is laden.\\nI hear his fond question, in fear and in trembling,\\nHer gracious reply, without guile or dissembling;\\nThen every blithe robin that ever had nested\\nWithin the brave beech-tree, or ever had rested\\nInside its green tent, when it stood in the thicket,\\nSeemed singing again with the shrill little cricket,\\nO sweet was their song when the lass did surrender.\\nAnd hand answered hand, with four feet on the fender!\\nOnce more I can see the same happy pair mated,\\nEnclosed in the Paradise love has created.\\nAround them the children, with riotous laughter,\\nFlood all the old room, from the rug to the rafter.\\nThey play in the splendor the fire is flinging\\nAcross the broad floor, and the kettle is singing\\nIts cheery defi to the storm that is piling\\nThe gables v/ith snow, and the wee baby, smiling\\nIn dear mother s arms, makes the father s face tender,\\nAnd heart answers heart, with four feet on the fender.\\nWe sing of the Paradise where we are going;\\nO fair are its gardens, with pure waters flowing.\\nThe amaranths blooming, the azure skies arching\\nAbove the white host of the ransomed ones marching\\nBut I, sitting here, in my loneliness yearning\\nFor one who has gone whence there is no returning,", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0074.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "rour? rEET on the tender\\n67\\nOft picture that place as my own Father s\\ndwelling,\\nWhere she whom I love to the angels is\\ntelling\\nThat kindly old Death soon her sweetheart\\nwill send her,\\nAnd heaven will begin with four feet on\\nthe fender.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0075.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "THE RIVER OF LOST SOULS\\nCANON of Las Animas!\\nWithin thy porphyry portals dim,\\nI tread thy gloomy gorge; I pass\\nWhere writhen waters roaring swim,\\nFoam-shredded, down the dark abyss.\\nTo gnaw thy gnarly granite roots,\\nAnd, round thy boulders curling, kiss\\nThe sandals of the lordly buttes\\nThat gaze upon thee, wnth the glow\\nOf sunset on their scalps of snow.\\nGrim warders of thy grand crevasse,\\nO Rio de las Perdidas\\nWild Canon of I,as Animas!\\nO Canon of L,as Animas!\\nCut saber-wise clean to the core,\\nSword-keen thy skyey cataract has\\nCleft all thy cloudy ledges hoar.\\nIn one fell sweep, from frost to flowei.\\nAloft, old Winter surpliced sits\\nAlow, the wolf-cubs crouch and cower\\nWhen thro the reek the raven flits;", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0076.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "THE RIVER or LOST 50UL5 69\\nFrom where, on tliy sheer parapet,\\nThe white stars nightly walk vidette\\nTo the green pools wherein they glass\\nTheir glory in L,as Perdidas\\nWild Caiion of Las Animas!\\nO Canon of L,as Animas!\\nThro shambles of the slaughtered souls\\nThy river of the lost, alas\\nScuds swiftly o er skuU-paven shoals,\\nWhere tethered shades eternally\\nScroll all thy sagging, sunless cliffs\\nWith God s name, whom they can not see\\nIn Hades hopeless hieroglyphs,\\nLooking, all dumb and nettle-crowned,\\nUpon the blue face of the drowned.\\nGyved hand and foot with graveyard grass\\nBy Rio de las Perdidas\\nWild Canon of Las Animas\\nO Canon of Las Animas\\nNow is this lying legend peeled\\nFrom thy great fame forever, as\\nA ripe fig-skin, and thou revealed\\nSublimest Nature s holiest shrine,\\nWhere spirits, free from sinful dross,\\nLook up, to see above them shine\\nThe Mountain of the Holy Cross,", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0077.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "^o\\nTHE RIVER or LOST SOULS\\nIvinteled with heaven and silver-silled,\\nThy templed dome forever filled\\nWith songs whose cadences surpass\\nThe strong voice of I^as Perdidas\\nWild Canon of Las Animas!", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0078.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "THE WHISTLING BOY\\nBEDOUIN lithe, bare-\\nfooted and blithe, the\\nrollicking melody\\nWhich through thy lips so lightsome slips is the ballad\\nof Rosalie,\\nThe Prairie Flower, and gracious power within the\\nancient tune\\nBrings back the day when I rode away, in the buxom\\nmonth of June,\\nWhen the slender stalks of the hollyhocks lifted the\\nblooms so high\\nAbove the wall that they shouted all, Good-bye, my\\nlover, good-bye\\nAnd in tunic 3 ellow a wild bird, mellow and mad with\\ntipsy joy,\\nTilted the rhyme of his tuneful chime to the lilt of a\\nwhistling boy.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0079.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "72 THE WHISTLING BOY\\nNo meadow-lark in the misty dark, when winging her\\nupward way\\nFrom cloud to cloud, and caroling loud to waken the\\nsleeping day;\\nNo whippoorwill in the twilight still, lamenting in\\nlonely shade,\\nWhere fireflies seek for her and peek into every glim-\\nmering glade;\\nNo slave refrain, with a warp of pain and a weft of\\npsalm between\\nNo aria, trilled to audience thrilled by the art of the\\nopera queen\\nNo shepherd s hail in a hawthorn vale no mariner s\\nHome ahoy\\nWets my eyes like thoughts that rise with the lilt of a\\nwhistling boy.\\nThro happy tears, across the years, on the lowland farm\\nI see.\\nDriving his line of lowing kine, the laddie that once\\nwas me,\\nWhistling clear, to the thrushes near, that cheery,\\nquaint old strain,\\nlyoitering slow, in the long ago, with the herd along\\nthe lane.\\nThey say that some, when death has come, and all life s\\ntoil is o er.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0080.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "THE WHI5TLINQ BOY\\n73\\nOn the river brim have heard a hymn float up from the\\nfarther shore\\nBut at the ford one low, sweet chord will all my fear\\ndestroy\\nIf, over the tide from the other side, comes the lilt of a\\nwhistling boy.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0081.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "THE LILACS\\non\\nNE day in the city, where people were\\npouring\\nAlong the wide street, with their\\ntumult and din.\\nWhere all the great center of com-\\nmerce was roaring\\nWith fashion and traffic, with\\nfolly and sin,\\nWhere, in the May morning, the\\nwide world was waking\\nTo life, from the slumber of cold\\nwinter s spell,\\nI saw on the corner a small merchant,\\nshaking\\nThe plumes of the lilacs that grew by\\nthe well.\\n74", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0082.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "THE LILACS 75\\nThe tall purple lilacs, the sweet-scented lilacs,\\nThe old-fashioned lilacs that grew by the well.\\nI looked, and behold the high buildings all faded\\nTo far-away hills where the firmament bent,\\nAnd the avenue changed to a river-road shaded\\nBy elms, in whose shadows my naked feet went.\\nA thrush in the thicket was singing a sonnet\\nAdrift on the breezes, I caught the faint smell\\nThat came from the bush with the dew diamonds on it,\\nWhich lifted its blossoms beside the old well.\\nThe tall purple lilacs, the sweet-scented lilacs,\\nThe old-fashioned lilacs that grew by the well.\\nMy weary old spirit waxed younger each minute,\\nI flung forty years from my soul when I laughed,\\nFor there was the well, and the face that was in it\\nWhen over the curbing I gazed in the shaft.\\nThe squeaky old windlass the same thing was thinking;\\nThe opal drops into the deep crystal fell;\\nWhile I, from a dipper deliciously drinking,\\nLooked up at the lilacs that grew by the well.\\nThe tall purple lilacs, the sweet-scented lilacs,\\nThe old-fashioned lilacs that grew by the well.\\nAnd then I saw mother, just as she was leaving\\nThis sorrowful world for the land of the blest,\\nThere in her room, where we children were grieving,\\nAnd saying farewell to our first friend and best", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0083.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "76\\nTHE LILT^CS\\nWhen wistful she gazed where the summer sun slanted,\\nAnd, whispering softly, she told us to tell\\nGood-bye to the roses her patient hands planted,\\nGood-bye to the lilacs that grew by the well.\\nThe tall purple lilacs, the sweet-scented lilacs,\\nThe old-fashioned lilacs that grew by the well.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0084.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "WHAT YOU DID NOT SAY\\n^HERE is many a word that\\na man may rue,\\nAnd the memory of it will\\nmake him weep.\\nMayhap some heart that is kind and true,\\nLike a red pomegranate is rent in two,\\nWhen out of the soul the passions leap.\\nStorming the portals of speech they rush\\nInto cruel words that condemn and crush\\nBut the pang that you never may know, I pray.\\nIs the woe of the word that you did not say.\\nThe word that you ought to have said to him\\nWho put up his pleading face to ask\\nFor a father s smile, and whose eyes went dim\\nWith tears at your answer, stern and grim:\\nO let me alone till I end my task.\\n77", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0085.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "78 WHT^T YOU DID NOT S7W\\nNow he vexes no more yet you often go\\nTo the grave of the lad you slighted so,\\nAnd call thro the grass to the quiet clay,\\nAnd sob out the word that you did not say.\\nThe word you ought to have said to her\\nWhom, long ago, you did lovinglj woo\\nWith gifts and graces but tears now blur\\nThe sight of the bloom of the lavender,\\nThat brings old summers again, and you.\\nHow she lists and longs for the tender tone\\nOf the days gone by When you stand alone.\\nYour face in her lilies you then will lay.\\nAnd wail out the word that you did not say.\\nThe word you ought to have said the dear\\nOld pair by the fireside need it so!\\nIt is better to speak, more blessed to hear.\\nYour word of praise while they both are near.\\nHow free would your filial affection flow,\\nIf you knew how we, who without them trod\\nAll the way of life, are entreating God,\\nWho took them from us, that some time they\\nIn heaven may hear what we did not say.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0086.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "HARDSCPABBLC AND HIGHSTEEPLE\\niOUI^D archangel Gabriel, nearest\\nthe throne\\nThe resplendent clasp of that glittering zone\\nWhich girdeth forever the glory above\\nWith angelic anthems and lyrics of love,\\nThe leader of all the great legions who wait\\nOn the will and the word of the Uncreate\\nCome flying to-morrow with tidings again\\nOf peace upon earth and good will unto men,\\nSeeking the shepherds would he, in his search.\\nTry Hardscrabble Chapel or Highsteeple Church?\\nFrom harmonious surges of that choral sea\\nEmerging, and glowing with rapture, would he\\nLook for fisherman Peter, tunicked and tanned,\\nOr publican Matthew, branded and banned;\\n79", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0087.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "8o HARDSCRT^BBLl!: AND_HIGHSTEEPLC\\nThe harlot whose tears, on the feet of her I,ord,\\nFlowed like the oil the Samaritan poured\\nOr that weary mother whose eloquence won\\nHer daughter to health; or the prodigal son;\\nOr Zaccheus, leaving his sycamore perch,\\nIn Hardscrabble Chapel or Highsteeple Church?\\nWould he see those who sought the Master of old\\nThe lost sheep He carried from far to the fold\\nThe sinner whom bloodthirsty Pharisees claimed\\nThe blind and the halt, the withered and maimed;\\nThe lepers who dwelt in the caverns forgot\\nThe sisters who sobbed in that Bethany cot\\nThe woman that stood by the palms at the well\\nThe penitent thief, who was halfway in hell\\nSad souls whom this world had cast into the lurch,\\nIn Hardscrabble Chapel or Highsteeple Church?\\nShould he but walk, in his white vestiture,\\nMid the worshipers there, the rich and the poor\\nSee one lapping lambs in its warm woolen plaid,\\nOne sitting in purple and fine linen clad,\\nOne breaking its bread to those in distress,\\nOne hoarding the honey of God s bounteousness,\\nOne deep in His love as the wheel in the stream.\\nOne craving to skim gay society s cream,\\nHis glorious robes would gather less smirch\\nIn Hardscrabble Chapel than Highsteeple Church.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0088.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "COMRADE HAYES\\nHE marched w itli us, September s sun\\nWas bright on bannered Washington;\\nFrom the forum, factory, and farm,\\nThe East and West went arm-in-arm\\nTen thousand shouts on loyal lips,\\nTen thousand streamers made eclipse\\nAbove that veteran host of blue\\nThat walked the white-walled avenue\\nBut loudest rose the roar to greet\\nThe statesman from the highest seat,\\nWho came, amid their wondering gaze,\\nTo march with us, our Comrade Hayes.\\nHe fought with us. His glory is\\nA part of ours, and ours of his.\\nWe followed when his charging line\\nSwept up South Mountain s red incline;\\nHeard his deep voice, above the din\\nOf battle, cheer his Buckeyes in;\\nWe saw him, mid the missiles whirr,\\nWade that morass at Winchester.\\nSee how our eyes shine as we speak\\nOf that wild day at Cedar Creek,\\n6 8i", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0089.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "82 COMRADE HAYES\\nWhen, cinched with deadly musket-blaze,\\nWe fought with him, our Comrade Hayes.\\nHe sleeps with us, for we are one.\\nBeneath the sod, beneath the sun\\nWe guard the rear while those who died\\nAre bivouacked on the other side\\nSome, in the springtime, deck the mounds,\\nIn Paradise some pace their rounds\\nBut all are one, and aye shall be\\nBovind in eternal comradery.\\nYou have no part or lot in this,\\nWho gave him sneer, or stab, or hiss;\\nHe heeds not now your blame or praise,\\nHe sleeps with us, our Comrade Hayes.\\nColumbia, thou who hast, at need.\\nHearts of this high Homeric breed.\\nThy graj^-haired legions weep to-day\\nThe flags are draped, the dirges play,\\nThe while each soul in sorrow bends\\nThis thrilling summons heaven sends\\nLift up thy tear-stained face and hear,\\nBlown o er the river, sweet and clear,\\nThe bugle-call that faints and swells\\nAcross the fadeless asphodels\\nTurn out it sings each trump upraise\\nTurn out to welcome Comrade Hayes", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0090.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "THE OLD CIDER PRESS\\nTHE old Cider Press, how\\nits thin yellow thread\\nRuns backward to-night to\\nthe daj^s that are dead,\\nWhen it fell from the mill with mellifluous sound,\\nWhere the apples went in, and the oxen went round!\\nO the great honest eyes of the slow-moving steers\\nSeem to look at me now, like my own full of tears,\\nAs I smell the sweet odor, which must be, I guess,\\nA breath of the past from the old Cider Press.\\nO the old Cider Press on the old orchard hill\\nThe brook was the hem and the forest the frill\\nOf that outskirt of Eden we called the old farm,\\nWhere all knew the Lord and took hold of his arm.\\nMellow Bellflower and Pippin, red Baldwin and Blush,\\nAll pressed into pulp, as the great cities crush\\nThe sad human hearts with shame and distress.\\nAnd Satan drinks the brew from the big Cider Press.\\n83", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0091.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "84\\nTHE OLD CIDER PRESS\\nO my boy, dreaming there by the dim pasture bars,\\nWith fields full of flowers and skies full of stars,\\nGo not to the town, with its smoke and its grime;\\nDabble not in its dirt do not die ere your time.\\nO bide where the wind wimples wide o er the wheat,\\nWhere the birds, and the bees, and the blossoms repeat\\nYour laugh when the lass of your heart answers Yes,\\nAnd you both sip the juice of the old Cider Press.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0092.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "THE BOY WHO NEVER RETURNED\\nN the glitter and glow of a day\\nlike this\\nWhen the women are lifting their\\nbabes to kiss\\nThe hero who wades thro the\\ntides of cheers\\nOf the multitudes looking thro\\nmists of tears,\\nAs he breasted the batteries iron\\nhiss\\nIn the deathless days when\\nhigh in the sun\\nOld Glory is riding the smil-\\ning sky\\nOn the trumpet s blast, O I miss\\nthe one\\nWho tossed to us all the fond\\ngood-bye\\nFrom his youthful soul, that burned\\nWith exultant ardor to share the strife.\\nSaying that love was more than life.\\nRoll slow, O drum Wail low, O fife\\nFor the boy who never returned.\\n85", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0093.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "86 THE BOV WHO NEVER RETURNED\\nThis morning his mother bright chaplets made,\\nBaptizing with tears each bloomy braid;\\nWhile her wistful eyes were gazing South,\\nShe whispered the name, with qiiivering mouth.\\nOf that warrior lad by the strangers laid\\nTo sleep where the waves of a lone lagoon\\nBreak round the grave of her boy in blue,\\nAnd the winds in the cypress thickets croon\\nHis dirge on the bank of the dark bayou.\\nO my soldier son! she yearned;\\nO to feel the clasp of thine empty sleeve\\nO bitterest sweet on earth to grieve\\nAbove thy dust, and a wreath to leave\\nO er my boy who never returned!\\nList, thou loyal woman, he is not there;\\nDid not thy child with his comrades fare\\nIn spectral battalions along the street?\\nWe heard no tread of their phantom feet,\\nBut shadowy banners swept the air.\\nAnd our stormy shouting was meant, in part,\\nFor the white host, hid from our mortal eyes.\\nWho came to comfort their country s heart\\nFrom their tents in the meadows of Paradise.\\nYea, clad in the fame he earned.\\nHe came from his camp on the crystal rim\\nOf the River of L,ife, as he came in the dim\\nOld days when the nation had need of him,\\nThe boy who never returned.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0094.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "JAMES NEWTON MATTHEWS\\nHE name which fell baptismal on thy brow\\nOf that apostle, brother of our Lord,\\nSurnamed the Just, blameless in deed\\nand word,\\nFell from a prophet s lips, for just art thou.\\nAnd his, surnamed the Wise, who once did bow\\nAbove the apple neath his garden tree,\\nWhen lo, beside it lay the golden key\\nWith which we fare thro all God s mansions now;\\nYea, both of these in thee do meetly blend.\\nThemis and Pallas thro thy spacious verse\\nGo gracefully, enamored of thine art;\\nPushing thy fancy s broidered tapestry apart.\\nThey peer where Love doth laughingly rehearse\\nSongs which thou singest us. Poet and Poet s Friend.\\nmm%\u00c2\u00ae iDf", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0095.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "JOSEPH\\nEYOND the farthest bourne of Dan\\nO er lands where Heaven has laid\\nits ban,\\nLike a spent snake the caravan\\nToward Egypt creeps\\nAnd oft the wistful Jewish slave\\nLooks westward, where the cedars\\nlave\\nWith murmurous shade his moth-\\ner s grave,\\nWhere Rachel sleeps,\\nTill his bright eyes, because of mist,\\nSee not the chain upon his wrist.\\nFrom out the loftiest linteled pile,\\nThat mingled in the mirrored Nile\\nThe lotus on its peristyle\\nWith that mid-stream,\\nHe looks again, thro orbs that swim\\nIn tears, where Jacob, old and dim\\nOf sight, comes chanting Israel s hymn\\nOf God supreme,", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0096.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "JOSEPH\\nAnd sobs the purple can not check\\nHeave the bright chain about his neck.\\nWhoe er for God hath iron worn,\\nJehovah s gold shall yet adorn.\\n89", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0097.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "LOVE 15 ENOUGH\\nHKY told of our Savior s pain,\\nThe thorns and the thrilling cry,\\nHis sorrow when scourged and slain,\\nWhile, over and over again,\\nFrom out my heart I was fain.\\nAs the Son of Man I did see,\\nIvifted high on lone Calvary,\\nTo sob out this sad refrain\\nO what does he v/ant from me?\\nHe has angels who sing alway\\nHis praise, and with glory shine,\\nWhile I in mj^ cottage with mine\\nCan only chant day by day\\nThe sweet stanza, When I survey\\nThe cross, and in wonder say,\\nHe has choirs by the crystal sea.\\nWho, with shawm and sweet psaltery.\\nFrom worship and work ne er stray;\\nThen what does he want from me?\\nWhen my Walter, our crippled one,\\nWho all thro his life must be\\n90", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0098.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "LOVE 15 EINOUGH\\n91\\nMy own burden, said, tenderly,\\nO mother, for all thou hast done,\\nWhat is the reward thou hast won?\\nlyO, spirit and strength I have none\\nlyike the others who circle thee.\\nThro tears I said, Love is my fee,\\nAnd lo, I had learned from my son\\nWhat my Master doth want from me.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0099.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "ALL S WELL\\nLL S WElvIv! calls the sailor.\\nIn the phosphorescent\\nPath of our prow all the\\nplanets are still.\\nThro this prairie of stars\\nwe plow, as the peasant\\nAnd poet of Scotland his\\nwhite-daisied hill.\\nSome looking backward up-\\non the sad severance\\nThro mists of old mem-\\nories, trying to quell\\nThe hurt of the heart with the holiest reverence\\nAnd some looking forward. On all the cry fell\\nAll s well! All is well.\\nIvO, every soul s sorrow was lost in the swell\\nOf that cheery watchword, All s well All is well.\\nAll s well calls the patriot, clothed in his purity,\\nFaithful mid those who are fain to betray\\nDim thro the marge of the murk and obscurity\\nHe sees the dawn of a far better day.\\n92", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0100.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "TOLL S WELL 93\\nDeclaring our banner to be but the flowering\\nOf the centuries cactus, the last miracle,\\nBorn of the travail of ages, and towering\\nAloft like the shout of this brave sentinel.\\nAll s well! All is well.\\nAnd a great Amen falls from the high citadel\\nOf our nation s Valhalla. All s well All is well.\\nAll s well calls the Christian. Like an anemone\\nBlooming mid nettles, his faith seems to be;\\nHe hath no fear, for the Christ of Gethsemane\\nHoldeth his heaven and his future in fee.\\nHe knoweth that love at last will annihilate\\nHate, and for thistle will plant asphodel,\\nTo make of old earth an Eden inviolate.\\nO toss out from the turret the tones of the bell,\\nAll s well All is well.\\nLet no lamentation lift up its sad knell\\nSing Glory to God, for All s well! All is well.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0101.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "PRETTY SOON\\ndM^ RETTY SOON! Pretty soon!\\nHow the soft phrase slips,\\nWith limpid, laughing cadence,\\nthro the languid lips,\\nWhere the plumage of the palms, by\\nthe south wind swayed,\\nFlings on the fragrant terraces its\\nfiligree of shade\\nWhen the almond and the myrtle\\nhave taken in their net\\nThe doves that tread the measure of the tender minuet.\\nAnd the nestlings of the nightingale cuddle low and\\ncroon,\\nTo the laughter of the laurel, Pretty soon Pretty\\nsoon\\n9d", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0102.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "PRETTY SOON 95\\nPretty soon Pretty soon cries Youth, I shall\\nmake\\nMy home beyond the happy hills for her dear sake\\nThere I will lead my darling, as Dawn, doth lead the\\nDay\\nWhen God is making morning, to sit wdtli her and say\\nYon river to its ocean troth will never be more true\\nThe best of life is mine to-day, because of love and you.\\nAnd heart shall rhyme to heart as unto the summer\\nmoon\\nThe swinging sea doth sing, Pretty soon Pretty\\nsoon\\nPretty soon Pretty soon sighs Age, I shall see\\nThat happy home above us, where the many mansions be,\\nTo pluck the never-fading flowers that make it ever\\nsweet,\\nAnd hear the pleasant paces of the silver-sandaled feet,\\nWhen beneath the healing trees they fill the crystal\\nurns\\nO how the soul within me for their blessed welcome\\nyearns\\nBut the band of shining spirits, with lips and lutes in\\ntune,\\nBid me wait, and bide their coming Pretty soon\\nPretty soon", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0103.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "HAT IS YOUR Lire?\\nSAITH the Scripture saint, This life is\\na cloud,\\nWhich appeareth awhile and vanisheth\\nsoon.\\nNot the cyclone stalking the summer\\nnoon,\\nAnd shadowing earth with his inky shroud,\\nMay thy life be, my friend;\\nWhere the frighted cities, beneath his frown,\\nAre caught in the twist of his whirling skein,\\nAll strewed and spilled on the sodden plain,\\nThe while the pitiless floods beat down,\\nAnd prayers for help ascend.\\n96", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0104.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "WH?[T IS YOUR Lire?\\n97\\nNot the mocking cloud that is moored in air,\\nUpblown from the sea thro the brazen sky,\\nWhen the swooning world is like to die\\nAnd the blinding sun but a baleful glare\\nAnd maddening fervor hath;\\nWhich seems so happy up there in heaven,\\nWhile men are watching, with choking grief.\\nTheir harvests wither bud, bloom, and leaf\\nFor lack of the help that it might have given.\\nAnd curse it in their wrath.\\nBut the rosy cloud with the ripple of rain,\\nThe lisp and laughter of dripping leaves,\\nThat sings to the farmer the song of sheaves.\\nAnd patters the tune on the window-pane\\nTill the radiant bow doth shine\\nIn bands of glory around its brow\\nTill the vine-robed valley, the corn-clad hill,\\nThe bird and bloom, which have drunk their\\nfill.\\nBreak into canticles, telling how\\n-t^t\\nMan s life may be divine.\\n^\\\\%iA\\n4\\nt#?i", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0105.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "THE DAY WE SEINED THE DAM\\nHE day we seined the dam, the\\nlight\\nGleamed on the mullet s golden\\nscales,\\nWhen, arching in his arrowy flight,\\nHe cuffed the glinting jewels bright\\nAbout the boy who held the brails,\\nAnd lit the lake with shining scrolls\\nOf radiant rings that roughed its calm,\\nAs heavenly raptures stir the souls\\nOf saints, the day we seined the dam.\\nThe day we seined the dam, the brim\\nHeld all the hamlet s boisterous brood\\nEach tossed his tunic far from him.\\nWaded knee-deep, sun-tanned and slim.\\nAnd stood there unashamed and nude\\nThe tamaracks shook when they laughed,\\nAnd rhythmic strophes, like a psalm,", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0106.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "THE DAY WE SEINED THE DHH 99\\nBroke on the shore, as from the raft\\nThe) dived the day we seined the dam.\\nThe day we seined the dam, a bird\\nTold but one tale from birchen boughs\\nWherein the sleeping south wind stirred;\\nAnd down rose-hidden aisles the herd\\nCame tinkling to the brink to browse,\\nAnd in tall reeds, all satisfied.\\nThey stood where billows shook the balm\\nFrom lilies tilted on the tide\\nThat rolled the day we seined the dam.\\nThe day we seined the dam, how slipped\\nThe stream, in slopes of rainbow spray,\\nDown to the depths where alders dipped\\nTheir beads, like monks who, in a crypt\\nFor peace, unto the Highest pray.\\nO could I plunge in that deep pool,\\nWith all ni}^ woes, just as I am.\\nAnd rise again as clean and cool\\nAs then, the day we seined the dam\\nL. C", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0107.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0080\u00a2*THE OLD ZION CHUfXIH\\nTHE old Zion Church, on\\naj|i the old country road,\\nEncircled with wagons when\\neach brought a load\\nOf the farmers, who came when the calm Sabbath-day\\nPut the plow and the reaper and planter away.\\nI can hear Coronation flow out from the choir,\\nBubbling over the building and up to the spire.\\nWhere one pair of bluebirds on Sunday did perch\\nJust to join in the hymns of the old Zion Church.\\nO the old Zion Church, down its unpainted aisles\\nHow the river of song broke in ripples of smiles\\nAs the bride drew her robes from the altar to door\\nThro sunshine that sweetened the old oaken floor.\\nAnd tears often flowed for the whole village wept\\nWhen the bonnie wee babe in its white coffin slept.\\nWhile the good pastor told how Death, in his search\\nFor the good Shepherd s lambs, came to old Zion Church.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0108.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "THE OLD ZION CHURCH loi\\nO the old Zion Church I can see it in spring,\\nWhen the orchards enfold it in sweet blossoming\\nAnd thro the long summer it basks in the heat\\nWhere swift swallows swim the waves of the wheat\\nTo the tone of its bell, on the still Autumn morn,\\nThe quail whistles alto far off in the corn\\nAnd in Winter the snow wraps the cedar and birch\\nKeeping watch o er the graves by the old Zion Church.\\nthe old Zion Church. where the oak ever waves\\nIts mantle of gloom o er my ancestors graves,\\nWhere mj father and mother were long ago laid,\\nAnd whippoorwill mourns in the murmurous shade.\\nWhen my time comes to say a farewell to the earth,\\n1 would like to return to the scenes of my birth,\\nShake off the old life, leave the world in the lurch,\\nFor heaven is not far from the old Zion Church.\\n:3\u00c2\u00bb* -2\u00c2\u00ab *\u00c2\u00abes", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0109.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "RIGHT ON!\\nI kept right on. Grants Memoirs.\\nIGHT ON! in the years of war, of clamor,\\nand rumor, and woe\\nRight on when tyrants of Europe said\\nsoftly, God orders it so;\\nRight out of the heart of the West, when\\nall the land was dumb.\\nCame Grant, and the nation said, At last\\nthe mighty man has come.\\nRight on Against his belted braves old Shiloh s bat-\\nteries boomed.\\nRight on! Across this hero s path the bluffs of Vicks-\\nburg loomed.\\nOver Mission Ridge and Lookout Mount serene and\\nstrong he trod,\\nAnd the loyal North leaned hard on him as he leaned\\nhard on God.\\nRight on when, beside the Rapidan, I,ee stood across\\nhis path.\\nAnd, overwhelmed, laid down his sword to bide the vic-\\ntor s wrath;", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0110.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "RIGHT ON 103\\nBut behold how kindly greetings banish every sharp\\nregret,\\nAs hand in hand the chieftains stand, and both are\\nbrothers yet.\\nMagnanimous, unassuming soul, his stern and martial\\nface\\nLooked soft as to the boys in gray he said, with courtly\\ngrace,\\nGo home again in peace, my friends, and then the\\nwarrior calm\\nCame back when all his task was done to wear the\\nwreath of palm.\\nRight on when cowards behind him cheapened his\\nkingly fame;\\nRight on when the paltry enemies pecked at his lustrous\\nname;\\nWhen the kings of Europe applauded him, all courteous\\nand mild,\\nHe kept the soldier s equipoise and the candor of a\\nchild.\\nRight on as ruler, the ship of state with steady hand\\nhe steered.\\nAnd never a hairbreadth, right or left, in any place he\\nveered", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0111.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "I04 RIGHT ON!\\nBest of the West, thou sturdy type of the sterling, rare\\nantique\\nAs soldier, more than a Roman bold as a patriot, more\\nthan a Greek.\\nRight on! from his agonized body the spirit has now\\ngone forth.\\nPile palm upon his grave, O South, and pine, thou\\nweeping North\\nFor, safe in America s Pantheon, our great soldier s\\nshade we see,\\nWith one hand outreached to Lincoln and the other to\\nRobert Lee.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0112.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0113.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "THE BACK LOG S BLAZE\\n106", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0114.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "THE BACK LOG S BLAZE\\nTHE back log s blaze where the wide arch\\nshowed\\nThe gloom above the hearth, where the red\\ncoals glowed;\\nHow it made the dusky shadows on the\\nwhite walls lurch\\nWhen the wind around the eaves the crevices did\\nsearch.\\nHow the cheery cricket chirruped at every childish jest,\\nKeeping time in crispy rhyme to the tune he loved the best;\\nWhen the curly king of home, with all his cunning\\nways,\\nWas cooed and crooned to slumber by the back log s\\nblaze.\\nO the back log s blaze, when the lovers softly laughed,\\nThen the silence heard the whiz of Cupid s winged shaft,\\nAnd swarming sparkles flew up the open chimney-throat\\nTo the boughs of bloomy stars in the firmament afloat\\nThe sun of ninety summers split the oaken log, and laid\\nA pathway down to Paradise for lover and for maid,\\nAnd paved a golden plaza where, amid the kindly rays,\\nThe romping children rolled by the back log s blaze.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0115.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "io8 THE BT^CK LOO S BLAZE\\nO the back log s blaze, then the world was fair to me,\\nFar whiter than the outer snow the inner purity.\\nWhen winter hounds were baying the cold December\\nmoon,\\nThe wooers, hand in hand, went along the lanes of\\nJune;\\nThe while the tempest roared, the mother rocked her\\nchild.\\nThen bending o er the cradle, how wistfully she smiled\\nWhat visions of his future rose before her loving gaze\\nAs she stooped to kiss him gently, by the back log s\\nblaze\\nO the back log s blaze I can see it rise and fall,\\nLighting up that happy circle when the family was all\\nGathered near it in the evening in the dear, old place.\\nO, I fancy it would smooth again the wrinkles from my\\nface,\\nEvery tear would disappear like the snowflakes in the\\nflue.\\nAs they fell into the flames that my heart is turning to,\\nCould those whom God has taken forget their hymns of\\npraise\\nAnd just come and sit together, by the back log s blaze.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0116.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "TAYLOR or ArRICA\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2AYLOR of Africa, tried and\\ntrue,\\nThe eyes of the world are\\n\\\\v\u00c2\u00a5\\\\ ^5\u00c2\u00bb bent on you,\\nBearing your torch in the moral murk.\\nWhere the awful shapes forever lurk\\nProud are we of the dauntless pith,\\nOf the glorious heart you front them with.\\nCanst thou, old Egypt, match that pair?\\nOne lying low, one battling there,\\nOne dead on the Nile with broken blade,\\nOne erect on the Congo, undismayed.\\nBritain gave Gordon, and we gave you,\\nTaylor of Africa, tried and true.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0117.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "T7WLOR or AFRICA\\nTaylor of Africa, come and rest\\nA night and a day in the mighty west\\nBring thy face with visions plowed,\\nThy splendid soul that ne er was cowed,\\nThy mind which spills through smiling lips\\nWhat thy large eyes see in Apocalypse.\\nO your quenchless hope, your manly grain\\nMaketh Paul of Tarsus to live again\\nIn shallow forms our souls are fast\\nAs a canon rings to a bugle blast,\\nBlow your trumpet our slumbers through,\\nTaylor of Africa, tried and true.\\nTaylor of Africa, heart of oak.\\nHew Christ a path with sturdy stroke.\\nThe owls may hoot, the weaklings pule,\\nThe gilded gewgaws call thee fool\\nGod speed thee in that far-off clime\\nAnd give thy spirit strength to rhyme,\\nWith the gospel message as it rolls\\nThe shout of a million ransomed souls\\nThou wilt come some day unto the throne\\nWith troops of her children as thine own.\\nSaying, Lord, hast thou more work to dot\\nTaylor of Africa, tried and true.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0118.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "THE BOY WE NEVER SAW\\nK potters work in common clay, are\\ncommon clay ourselves,\\nJust as humble and as homely as\\nthe jugs upon our shelves\\nBut this child was alabaster fair,\\nwithout a fleck or flaw,\\nSit down here, until I tell you, sir,\\nof the boy we never saw.\\nOne day last fall a likely ball lay on the molding rim.\\nAnd in the shed, at his wheel head, stood this stranger Jim.\\nHe tied his apron on and tossed a nod across to me.\\nThen struck his treadle softly as a master strikes a key.\\nHe held the mass a moment, then so coaxingly and\\nslow,\\nWith every turn the shapely urn in beauty seemed to\\ngrow,\\nAnd when the wire cut the work from off his heavy\\nwheel,\\nWe knew he was a craftsman true, from head to flying\\nheel.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0119.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "112 THE BOY WC NEVER ST^W\\nJim had a younkit, four years old, just coming down\\nto die,\\nA sickly lad who suffered so that the women had to cry,\\nTelling how the little tyke, soon as the pain would stop,\\nCalled for the little kickshaws we sent him from the\\nshop.\\nWe made the queerest cups, and then we made the\\noddest jars,\\nWith many a dip of smoothest slip, and man)^ curious\\nstars,\\nWe chinked them in the hottest kiln, farthest from the\\nblaze,\\nThen took our turns to fire them, and took our turns to\\nglaze.\\nThe foreman, in a Bible, found some pictured cups and\\nbowls.\\nLovingly we shaped them, sir, with all their ancient\\nscrolls.\\nHe filled them overflowing with the love he sent, to\\nsay\\nThat he wanted to come and see us all, but he had to go\\naway.\\nWe all knocked off the day he died. The Chapel\\npreacher told\\nThat shepherds take a lamb to lead a flock into the\\nfold.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0120.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "THE BOY WC NEVER SmV\\n3\\nAnd how the singing seraphs stood around the throne,\\nbut la\\nThere is not an angel there to match the boy we never\\nsaw.\\nWe potters work in common clay, are common clay\\nourselves,\\nJust as humble and as homely as the jugs upon our\\nshelves\\nO we mean to see him some day, sir But my old\\neyelids pshaw\\nBegin to leak whene er I speak of that boy we never\\nsaw.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0121.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "_;^^3-.\\nTTTHRO the garden at morn,\\nin cool emerald gloom,\\nWends the sad woman,\\nleaving her lost Sav-\\nior s tomb,\\nSwerving on with no look to the skies purple flushed,\\nThro lithe lilies leaning, expectant and hushed.\\nHer unhooded brow with the dawn pallor shone,\\nFaring wofully back from the grave and its stone\\nWhen, before the believer, who wept for the dead.\\nRose the Master, and just the word Marj^, he said.\\nLo there in the dusk of the whispering palm,\\nHer raiment all sweet with the spikenard and balm,\\nThe myrtle tops burning with sunlight above\\nHung over the sinner, redeemed b} His love,\\nPurer far than the dewdrops upon her dark hair.\\nShaken down by the pink-footed doves cooing there,\\nWhen the laurel s low Litany suddenly stilled.\\nAt the ringing Rabboni her happy heart spilled.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0122.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "HARY\\nITS\\nEaster cometh, and Magdalene calls its with her,\\nThro gray olive shade, to the I^ord s sepulcher,\\nWhere angelic words at the cypress-hid prison,\\nLinked like dulcimers, say unto us, He is risen.\\nUnsandaled and still, with souls all aglow,\\nDrawing near we see Death, our discomfited foe,\\nFolding all the fine linen Christ never will need,\\nWith face strangely soft, saying, Risen, indeed.", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0123.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "THE BLurrs or kickapoo\\nthe bluffs of Kickapoo!\u00e2\u0080\u0094 the\\nbluffs of Kickapoo\\nForever on their foreheads fair\\ngleams the morning dew.\\nOft have I seen the king of day upon\\nthe summit stand,\\nAnd pour a flood of glory over all the prairie\\nland,\\nAnd then beheld him bending unto the river s side,\\nlyike one who cometh gallantly to claim a comely bride\\nAnd fling her veil of shining mist far up into the blue,\\nTo float in fleecy clouds above the bluffs of Kickapoo.\\nthe bluffs of Kickapoo the bluffs of Kickapoo\\n1 see the bridge beyond the ridge, I see the shallows, too\\nBeneath the alder bushes, how shines the sparkling ring.\\nMade by the leap of croppie, or the dip of swallow s\\nwing!", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0124.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "THE BLUFFS OF KICKAPOO\\n117", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0125.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0126.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "THE BLurrs or nckt^phdo 119\\nThe blossoms of the tangled plum are full of sweet per-\\nfume,\\nThe flight of startled redbird lights up the spicy gloom.\\nNo summer day was long enough when it was spent\\nwith you,\\nAnd night was never welcome on the bluffs of Kickapoo.\\nO the bluffs of Kickapoo the bluffs of Kickapoo\\nThough far away, my soul to-day doth bring them into\\nview\\nAmid the trees, around their knees, my boyish heart is\\nhid,\\nWhere gossips tell, thro all the dell, what little Katj\\ndid.\\nAnd here, among the city streets, how oft my spirit\\nyearns\\nTo hear thy ripples rhyme again, amid the fringe of\\nferns,\\nO for one hour of that old joy, when all my life was\\nnew,\\nTo climb the path to heaven up the bluffs of Kickapoo", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0127.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "VICTOR HUGO\\nO he is dead, you say! that dauntless\\nking who loomed\\nlyike a snowy mountain, above\\nthe pines of France.\\nSo now he clambers sunward,\\nwith spirit all illumed.\\nAnd leaves his weary frame in the\\ngrave s deep trance.\\nWhile all his loyal comrades, beside\\nthe leader s tomb.\\nGrope, baffled and bewildered, thro\\nthe cold, gray gloom.\\nDead, with his ^tna heart all burned to ashes now;\\nThe eloquent, resistless lips silent in the dust;\\nThat pen which wrote the doom upon Napoleon s brow,\\nAnd jarred his rotten throne, is laid away to rust.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0128.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "VICTOR HUGO I2T\\nLoved by God and little children, O honey-hearted man,\\nHow shall the world go onward, with no Hugo in the\\nvan?\\nThe last of the immortals, latest of the lofty strain,\\nAll suckled in adversity, who tugged our sinking\\nrace\\nOut of miry shamelessness. To keep thee we were fain,\\nBut lo, the lyord hath called thee to th)^ exalted place,\\nWhere the others all await thee, crowned and battle-\\nscarred.\\nTo greet thee at thy coming to receive thy rich reward.\\nA prophet named thee Victor, thou who hast never\\nfailed\\nWhen God had need of man, singer, seer, and sage,\\nall three,\\nThou righteously didst smite, never doubted, drooped,\\nnor quailed;\\nFor fifty glorious years led the hosts of Liberty.\\nWhen the Future saj-s to France, O name thy noblest\\nsoul,\\nShe will show, with radiant face, thy name upon her\\nscroll", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0129.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "ORTY, and straight as a Norway fir,\\nand yet I clean gave way\\nTo-night, dear wife; to save my life,\\nI knew not what to say.\\nBack came hurrying memories, like\\ndoves that homeward fly;\\nHow they gave us cheer for every year! O swiftly they\\nwent by,\\nFreely as God spilled streams of suns to sweeten the\\nabyss,\\nWhen the clump of chaos blossomed into worlds like\\nunto this.\\nI spake for you, and the wee ones too, but O my eyes\\nwere blurred.\\nWhen all was done for every one, and I came to the\\nparting word\\nWith all my soul, like the open scroll of the stainless\\nheaven, I\\nSaid, Old Bible and old pulpit, and old Shiloh Church,\\ngood-bye", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0130.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "THE L7\\\\5T SERnON ^23\\nSilence, like the spaces vast, and feeling, profound as\\nthe sea.\\nCame o er them when I fondly told what they had done\\nfor me.\\nThro loving smiles along the aisles I went to take my\\nstand\\nAnd manfully I tried to say, as I grasped each friendly\\nhand,\\nGod fold you fast! but failed at last when up came\\nAbner Smith,\\nHis face lit with the great big heart he loves his chil-\\ndren with.\\nAnd, when they brought him forward there, he stam-\\nmered, and began,\\nI was only a drunkard when you came, and now I am\\na man;\\nAnd then his wife so sadly said, T is hard to hear you\\ntell\\nThe old Bible, and old pulpit, and old Shiloh Church\\nfarewell\\nWhen to-morrow, at the break of day, that harvester,\\nthe sun.\\nShall husk the early shadows from the hill-tops, one by\\none,\\nAnd by the winds of morning the shreds are swept, and\\nwhirled,\\nAnd piled upon the porphyry plain that rims the wak-\\ning world,", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0131.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "124\\nTHE LAST SERMON\\nWhen the torch of dawn among them makes all the\\neast to glow,\\nThen, with onr babes around us, we will both arise\\nand go\\nBack to the humble building, and, with all our hearts\\nand minds,\\nSing the song we ve loved so long, Blest be the tie\\nthat binds,\\nAnd with a sigh say fond Good-bye, till Shiloh\\nChurch we greet\\nThro other eyes in Paradise, childlike round Shiloh s\\nfeet.", "height": "2969", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0132.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "SOMETHING IN THE SUMMER\\nHEN the mower cuts the\\nclover, and the swallow\\nskims the corn,\\nAnd the cockerel is telling he is glad that he was born\\nWhen the dawn is rich with robins, piping in the\\npoplar trees,\\nAnd, deep within the hollyhocks, you hear the honey\\nbees;\\nWhen the quail calls up his covey, by the whistle of his\\nname,\\nIn the plaited old fence corner, with its Indian pinks\\naflame,\\nO something in the summer seems to say,\\nSip the sweetness of the nwrning, while you may.\\nFor Love will sooji be wingi7ig on his way\\nSomething in the sumtner seems to say.\\n125", "height": "2964", "width": "1924", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0133.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "126 SOHETHING IN THE SUHMER\\nWhen the wheat upon the hillside, in bending billows\\nrolled,\\nIs tossing scarlet poppies high upon its waves of gold\\nWhen by the tree the baby, whose father binds the\\nsheaves,\\nIs laughing at the squirrels hid among the lisping\\nleaves\\nWhen reapers rest at noon within the ample leafy\\nshade.\\nWhere the oriole is swinging in his emerald ambuscade,\\nO something in the summer seems to say,\\nSip the sweetness of the morning, while you may.\\nFor Love will sooii be zvingi^ig on his way\\nSomething in the summer seems to say.\\nWhen the blackbird, in the tree-top, is tangled in his\\nsong,\\nAnd the catbird gives him challenge, whether right or\\nwrong\\nWhen the speckled hawk is sweeping across the\\ndistant sky,\\nAnd friendly sheep are grazing all about you, as you\\nlie\\nLooking down some river bend where a bit of blue doth\\nshine.\\nSo vaguely thro the curtain of the trumpet creeper\\nvine,", "height": "2939", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0134.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "SOnCTHINQ IN THE SUriHER 127\\nO soincthhig in the summer seems to say,\\nSip the szueet)iess 0/ the morriing, tvhile you 77iay,\\nFor Love will soon be wijiging on his way\\nSomething in the sicmmer seems to say.\\nWhen all the hills are hazy, and the heated hollows\\nmake\\nAn echo to the pheasant, drumming deep within the\\nbrake\\nWhen you loaf, and look and listen, where honey-\\nsuckles sway\\nTheir lamps in dim savannas, dreaming back a happy\\nday;\\nWhen you drift with sleepy lids, by sheer laziness op-\\npressed,\\nThro the languor of the spirit, when you only think of\\nrest,\\nO something hi the summer seems to say,\\nSip the sweetness of the morning, while you may^\\nFor Love zvill soon be winging on his way\\nSomething in the summer seems to say.\\nWhen nature doth entice you with a hundred soothing\\ncharms.\\nAnd you feel yourself enfolded in her strong maternal\\narms;", "height": "2964", "width": "1914", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0135.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "128\\nSOHETHING IN THIZ SUHHER\\nAnd peace comes down, so soft, upon the weary\\nheart and brain,\\nYou break the heavy shackles and the soul doth see\\nagain,\\nAll the visions of the future, long forgotten, drawing\\nnear.\\nAll your hopes and your ideals calling unto you so clear,\\nO something in the summer seems to saj\\nSip the siveetness of the morning, while you viay,\\nFor Love ivill soon be zuingijig on his way\\nSomething in the summer seems to say.", "height": "2939", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0136.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2964", "width": "1914", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0137.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "U4-^\\nWHERE THE CORK GOES DOWN", "height": "2939", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0138.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "WHERE THE COPK GOES DOWN\\nHEN your wife has gone to\\nvisit where mother dear\\nresides,\\nAnd you could not win a battle,\\nif you owned both sides,\\nWhen you become so weary\\nthat you can not turn a\\nwheel,\\nAnd drag yourself to labor with a\\nweight at either heel.\\nAnd quarrel with your shadow and\\ngive the folks the blues,\\nThere is an ancient medicine that every man\\nshould use.\\nAnd its name is go a-fishing. Get a long\\nand limber pole,\\nWith some tackle and a can of bait, and start toward\\nthe hole\\nOut beyond the river bend, about a mile or two from\\ntown,\\nJust to loaf and lounge at leisure where the cork goes\\ndown.\\n131", "height": "2964", "width": "1914", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0139.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "132 WHERE THE CORK GOES DOWN\\nSome meander to the mountains cool, and some toward\\nthe sea,\\nBut I will take my chances underneath the chestnut tree\\nThat lays upon the sloping bank its shadows deep and\\nwide,\\nAnd flings its raveled blossoms down upon the lazy tide.\\nThere all my troubles tumble with the turtles out of\\nsight,\\nWhen from the yellow stubble comes the yodel of Bob\\nWhite;\\nAnd there I speculate in futures just as freely as I like,\\nFor I may pull out a muscalonge, a pickerel, or a pike;\\nBut the hope upon my features fades away into a frown\\nWhen a pumpkin-seed deceives me where the cork\\ngoes down.\\nSome say, Work your muscle if you want to rest your\\nmind,\\nI say, IvCt them both relax when health you want to\\nfind.\\nTake a dose of doing nothing; take it on some river\\nshore.\\nWhere a flicker far above you raps upon a sycamore.\\nAnd a devil s darning-needle gads around you just as\\nglad\\nAnd contended as the poUywog upon the lily pad.\\nO when your hook is fastened in a lusty, leaping bass.\\nAnd at the battle s ending you can lay him on the grass.", "height": "2939", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0140.jp2"}, "141": {"fulltext": "WHERE THE COQW GOES DOWN i33\\nYou feel so full of spirit from )^our shoes up to your\\ncrown\\nThat your life will be worth living where the cork goes\\ndown.\\nA chap who studies eating, says that fish is good for\\nbrain\\nI think it is the fishing, not the fish, that gives the gain\\nFor I have noticed that the fellows let imagination play\\nRound the wonderful dimensions of the one that got\\naway\\nAnd the stories chase each other, just as chipper and as\\nfree\\nAs the squirrels winding streaks of red around the elm-\\ntree.\\nO when the sur is near to setting, your soul begins to\\nsing\\nAs you purchase from a country boy a dozen on a string,\\nAnd you march home in the evening a romancer of re-\\nnown,\\nTelling how you missed the big one where the cork\\ngoes down.", "height": "2964", "width": "1914", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0141.jp2"}, "142": {"fulltext": "WHERE APE THE HEROES?\\nHERE are the heroes of old days?\\nHe asks, and lifts his lyre, and chants,\\nIn sounding psalm, the meed of praise\\nDue to the dead itinerants\\nThe men who, fearless, trod the maze\\nOf unpathed forests, sailed the sea,\\nPreached, prayed, and rode with Asbury,\\nThat Christ might have sole empery.\\nWhere are the heroes of old days?\\nThe while beside him men say this:\\nSend us where souls in sorrow die;\\nWhere heathenism s brood will hiss\\nIn hell s dread dialect, when high\\nThe cross of Calvary we raise\\nTo serve where Satan has his seat;\\nTo warm them with our own heart s heat\\nAnd, when t is done, say death is sweet.\\nWhere are the heroes of old days?\\nTheir hymns are heard in canons cold.\\nBy blight or blizzard undismayed;", "height": "2939", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0142.jp2"}, "143": {"fulltext": "WHERE Z^RE THE HEROES\\n135\\nThe frontier s farthest farm they fold\\nIn Jesus love, and with Him wade\\nThe Siddim s slime of, city ways;\\nThro crying want and crushing debt\\nGive one their tears and one their sweat,\\nAnd, dying, ask of God to get\\nWhere are the heroes of old days.", "height": "2964", "width": "1914", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0143.jp2"}, "144": {"fulltext": "JIM S MEETING\\nUR dear old pastor used to\\npreach, as natural as\\na bird,\\nJust the cheery kind of\\nsermons that a bobo-\\nlink can pour\\nUpon you from a cherry-\\nbough, whenever he\\nwas stirred\\nHis wooing talk would almost win the fishes to the\\nshore.\\nBut he wandered off one day,\\nIn a curious sort of way,\\nAnd got badly in the brush, as the circuit-riders\\nsay.\\nDown at Ebenezer Chapel there was meeting; every\\nnight\\nThe parson pleaded tenderly, though he was weak\\nand worn,\\n136", "height": "2939", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0144.jp2"}, "145": {"fulltext": "jin S nCETING 137\\nSaying, Come, my neighbors, come O come into the\\nlight,\\nTo stand with us together in the dawning of the\\nmorn\\nAnd when he stopped to cough\\nNot a sinner dared to scoff,\\nFrom the graybeards in the corner to the lovers far-\\nthest ofif.\\nThen his voice went to a whisper he could not speak\\nat all\\nAnd next evening I saw Jim, the ragged child of\\ncobbler Wood,\\nShivering at the crowded entrance, close against the\\nouter wall.\\nTill he called the preacher over in the corner where\\nhe stood.\\nAnd he said, I heard them pray,\\nAt our home, for you, to-day,\\nAnd I went out and dug some medicine to drive that\\npain away.\\nGod bless you! said the preacher to the boy so thin\\nand cold.\\nAnd unwrapped the little parcel with his gentle,\\npatient smile", "height": "2964", "width": "1914", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0145.jp2"}, "146": {"fulltext": "138 jin S nCETING\\nT was a stringy root of calamus, in brownish paper\\nrolled,\\nBut I saw his face was beaming as he elbowed up\\nthe aisle.\\nThen he read a tender hjann,\\nAnd in prayer my eyes were dim\\nAs he knelt there, reaching up for God and down for\\nlittle Jim.\\nWhen he rose and read a Scripture like a dripping\\nhoneycomb,\\nO I saw the gift had cured him, for, my friend, he\\nfairly took\\nThat crowd, and led them captive all into the Father s\\nhome;\\nBeneath his melting pathos stoutest sinners swayed\\nand shook\\nAs a river deep and wide\\nShoulders at a dam, he cried,\\nCome, lyord and when it tottered all the town was\\nin the tide.\\nAll around the mourners benches people gathered with\\na rush,\\nAnd amid the praying penitents disciples worked\\nand wept;", "height": "2939", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0146.jp2"}, "147": {"fulltext": "JIM S necTi NO 139\\nBut he could say no more he had strayed into the\\nbrush;\\nLost in some Eden thicket, while the stream of\\nmercy swept\\nAll about the young and old,\\nAnd a hymn of joy was rolled\\nFrom the lips of shouting converts, coming safe into\\nthe fold.\\nWhen Wood, who was converted, went singing down\\nthe road.\\nThe preacher walked beside him, just to tell his\\nfaithful wife.\\nAnd they filled the lowly cottage full of melody that\\nflowed\\nUntil midnight, for a man redeemed and started new\\nin life.\\nAnd often I have cried,\\nAs he has told, with pride,\\nOf Jim s Meeting, as he called it to the very day he\\ndied.", "height": "2964", "width": "1914", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0147.jp2"}, "148": {"fulltext": "THE BROOK\\nOW it bubbles clear in the cool, damp room,\\nWhere the pans of milk light up the\\ngloom,\\nAll sweet with breath of the summer\\nbloom\\nOn the swaying locust boughs,\\nWhere the cobweb lace doth the walls\\nadorn,\\nWhen the passionate sun at the peep of morn,\\nBreaks into the nook where the brook is born.\\nIn the lowly old spring-house.\\nDown beechen bluiFs to the blue-grass plain,\\nIt winds the thread of its silvery skein\\nOn the old mill-wheel again and again,\\nWhere the jocund miller sings;\\nMid briery mazes, thro blossomy meads,\\nWhere trout leap up at the drifting seeds,\\nAnd the cat-bird dips the alder s beads\\nIn broken ripples and rings.\\nHow it shimmers and shines across the sand\\nTo the winey tarn, where cattle stand,\\n140", "height": "2939", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0148.jp2"}, "149": {"fulltext": "4 jll!.\\nm i\\nn\\nTHE BROOK\\n141", "height": "2964", "width": "1914", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0149.jp2"}, "150": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2939", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0150.jp2"}, "151": {"fulltext": "THE BROOK\\nWhen the heat is heavy on all the land,\\nDeep in the shady pond,\\nAnd from all the hives the buskined bees\\nFly out to the orchard to rifle and tease\\nTheir sweets from the spreading apple-trees\\nOn yellowing hills beyond.\\nAnd when all oblivious it hath flowed,\\nBy the pasture-field and the winding road.\\nTo the doorwaj^ of many a cot, and showed\\nIts cheery, laughing face;\\nAnd reluctant, slow, it comes to the sea,\\nHow I wonder if ever it turns like me.\\nTo the ancient room and the locust tree,\\nAnd thinks of its old birthplace.\\n143", "height": "2964", "width": "1914", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0151.jp2"}, "152": {"fulltext": "THE DOGWOOD TREE\\njRIDE of the woodland wide, dainty and unde-\\nfiled,\\nBright is the blessing thy beauty doth bring\\nWhen April leadeth thee, with thy white\\ngarments free,\\nUp from the South, in the front of the Spring,\\nShaking the snow of thy bridal robes sweet,\\nFlowing, in foamy surf, down to thy feet,\\nBride of the woodland wild, dainty and undefiled,\\nThee we are waiting to greet.\\nWinter has lingered long O how we miss the song\\nThat always welcomes thee over the hill.\\nThe bold chee-wink, chee-wink, of the gay bobolink,\\nAnd the low call of the coy whippoorwill,\\nFor thee doth the morning lark scatter the night\\nFor thee doth the tanager flash in his flight.\\nBride of the woodland wild, dainty and undefiled.\\nHaste thee to dawn on our sight\\nHow thou wilt miss the one, who was the first to run,\\nLaughing, to meet thee along the lone glen\\n144", "height": "2939", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0152.jp2"}, "153": {"fulltext": "THE DOGWOOD TREE\\n145\\nSwallows are making search, and from the graceful birch\\nKingfisher calls her again and again,\\nlyong will the wren wait to show her small nest,\\nAnd the brown fledgelings beneath her proud breast,\\nBride of the woodland wild, dainty and undefiled,\\nDarling has gone to her rest.", "height": "2964", "width": "1914", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0153.jp2"}, "154": {"fulltext": "GOD S MANUSCRIPT\\nPON the hallowed ground of Galilee, O John,\\nThy Master writeth, while the wolfish\\ncrowd\\nBends lowering looks upon the woman\\nbowed,\\nCursing her lovely face, so tearful and so\\nwan;\\nStill asks the deep heart of mankind, which sees\\nHer streaming eyes fixed on the brow divine,\\nWhat was the import of that single line\\nWrit by the gracious Christ amid the Pharisees?\\nSaying, O to have seen upon the favored sod\\nThose jewels from the forefinger of our God\\nGo forth this morn in May, where, all unrolled.\\nThe daisied meadow lies, signed o er with gold\\nIn flowery text he writes his gospel as of old\\nX46", "height": "2939", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0154.jp2"}, "155": {"fulltext": "THE UNKNOWN\\nACK swings on the mast; his heart ne er\\nquakes\\nWhen Euroclydon tumbles the sea, and\\ntakes\\nHis ship, like a harp, in his hands, and wakes\\nFrom every rope a wail.\\nHe has weathered a hundred storms before\\nAnd his faith will weather a hundred more,\\nBut the roaring stress of a street ashore\\nMakes him cower and quail.\\nDick plays his part in the mart s mad rush,\\nAs calm in the din of its deafening crush\\nAs a fawn at dawn, in the purple hush\\nOf the palms of Paradise.\\nHe dreads the deep, where the wild waves comb\\nTheir crests on the breasts of gulls that roam\\nThro the spra)% as gray as the flying foam\\nThat flecks the lurid skies.\\nEach wonders at each, for both can bide\\nThe known, but fear what they have not tried,\\n147", "height": "2964", "width": "1914", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0155.jp2"}, "156": {"fulltext": "148 THE UNKNOWN\\nSo man doth shrink from the echoless tide\\nWhere waits the boatman pale\\nKindly Death doth smile at his freight afraid,\\nAnd strips the mist with his oar s swift blade\\nFrom the strand where the band, in white arrayed,\\nShouts, Welcome, and all hail!", "height": "2939", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0156.jp2"}, "157": {"fulltext": "ON CHRISTMAS EVE\\n^N Christmas Eve, in this\\ndim room,\\nThere drifts across the\\ndeepening gloom\\nThe faint, old-fashioned, spicy scent\\nOf mistletoe and holly blent;\\nAnd while the cheery wood-fire burns,\\nShe whom I loved and lost returns\\nTo sit beside me, soft and low,\\nI hear the voice which, long ago,\\nAround my heart a spell did weave.\\nWhen life was young on Christmas Eve.\\nOn Christmas Eve I see the pond,\\nAnd from the hollow woods beyond.\\nComes echoing back the skaters glee,\\n149", "height": "2964", "width": "1914", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0157.jp2"}, "158": {"fulltext": "ISO ON CHRISTHAS EVE\\nAs happy sweethearts swinging free,\\nIn rhythmic stroke and graceful curve\\nAcross the crystal surface swerve.\\nO eyes of blue O curls of brown\\nO streaming scarf! O fluttering gown!\\nHow doth your lover lonely grieve\\nWhen all are glad on Christmas Kve\\nOn Christmas Kve, along the street\\nThe people pass on eager feet.\\nWith gifts to greet the gladsome morn\\nOf that blest day when Christ was born.\\nBach to his own will cry, Take this\\nAnd each will share the smile, the kiss,\\nWhile I alone shall try, thro tears.\\nTo count the sad and sombre years\\nSince that dark day when thou didst leave\\nThis world all cold, on Christmas Eve.\\nOn Christmas Eve I envy not\\nThe laughing ones, whose happier lot\\nIt is to join the scenes of mirth,\\nAnd cry, rejoicing, Peace on earth!\\nSome day I feel I too shall win\\nMy Father s house, and enter in;\\nFor by the portal she doth bide,\\nRobed and expectant as a bride;\\nThen all her love I will receive.\\nIn God s good time on Christmas Eve.", "height": "2939", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0158.jp2"}, "159": {"fulltext": "COMMON THINGS\\nHAVEN send us a prophet with wit to\\nteach\\nOur race, which to folly so fondlj^\\nclings,\\nThat all that is good is within our reach,\\nThe cream of life is the common\\nthings.\\nWe may have no turreted palaces piled\\nIn high colonnade and pillar and cope,\\nBut forever the mountains undefiled\\nFor us thro the roseate azure slope.\\nThere never was park like the prairie lawn.\\nNor symphonies like the ocean s song,\\nNor picture to match the amethyst dawn,\\nThese blessings to all of our kind belong!\\nNo wine gives the fillip of frosty air\\nNo satin e er came from a foreign loom\\nAs white as the sheen of the lilies fair.\\nWan acolytes lighting the woodland gloom.\\n151", "height": "2964", "width": "1914", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0159.jp2"}, "160": {"fulltext": "152 COnnON THINGS\\nBecause the bright river is free to all,\\nTo man and beast, to flower and tree.\\nAnd on every sinner the sunbeams fall,\\nThe sun and the stream are dear to me.\\nWe have winds that silver the dusky rill\\nThe forest of pines, with healing breath;\\nAnd friends and home, and love, and still\\nThe best of all, our old neighbor Death.", "height": "2939", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0160.jp2"}, "161": {"fulltext": "PICTURES Or~ THE PAST\\nOD is good to let us keep in\\nmind the pictures of\\nthe past\\nAnd sometimes in the sum-\\nmer, when the seething\\ncity s clack\\nFlings sorrow on my\\nfevered soul, I take the\\noutward track,\\nAnd from off my weary spirit\\nall the slavish burdens\\ncast.\\nO leaving work half-done,\\nFar away from care I run\\nTo where a brook winds thro a wood and wimples in\\nthe sun.\\nI saunter in the tousled grass that tangles round my\\nfeet;\\nHigh above my lifted head, where the tulip-trees are\\ncrossed,\\n153", "height": "2964", "width": "1914", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0161.jp2"}, "162": {"fulltext": "154 PICTURES or THE P7\\\\5T\\nIn her cool and airy cradle, the cardinal-bird is tossed\\nWhile the emerald grove is girt with the gold of wavy\\nwheat,\\nAnd the rivulet is traced\\nBy a thread of silver, laced\\nThro ferns and fair white lilies wading in it to the waist.\\nFar away I hear the murmur by the dripping mill-wheel\\nmade;\\nDewy roses light the thickets, where ring-doves coo\\nand croon\\nFrom the levels comes the music of the mowers\\nharvest tune.\\nAll rejoicing in a cadence to the swish of sharpened\\nblade.\\nWhile the quail in coveys rise,\\nWhirring from the gleaming scythes,\\nAnd the frightened rabbit leaps at the harvester s loud\\ncries.\\nThe unwithered bloom of bramble winds the fences in\\nits wreath\\nWhere the squirrel sits and chats with the reiterat-\\ning jay\\nAnd the honey-burdened bee doth halt, upon her\\nhomeward way.\\nWhere sumach spreads its branches over partridge-eggs\\nbeneath", "height": "2939", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0162.jp2"}, "163": {"fulltext": "PICTURES or THE PAST I5S\\nOn distant slopes the sheep,\\nIn long shadows lie asleep,\\nAnd across the winding path I watch the tortoise slowly\\ncreep.\\nFar down the lane the oxen strain against the polished\\nyoke,\\nAs they draw the creaking wagon up toward the\\ntraveled road\\nAnd the laughter of the boj^s that ride upon the\\nfragrant load\\nHas scared the speckled hawk from his perch upon the\\noak;\\nFor, with a sudden cry,\\nHe mounteth up on high,\\nAnd wheels in burnished curves upon the dappled\\nsummer sky.\\nThe anise and the spice-bush have brewed a rare perfume,\\nAlong the woodland edge, where the workers rest\\nfrom toil.\\nFloats the smell of meadow-sorrel, the scent of penny-\\nroyal.\\nMingled with the breath of balsam and the wild grape\\nbloom.\\nOnce more I sit and sing,\\nWithin the forest swing.\\nWhere, enamored of the murmurous tree, the vine doth\\ncling.", "height": "2964", "width": "1914", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0163.jp2"}, "164": {"fulltext": "156\\nPICTURES or THE PAST\\nThro the Babel of the town, high above the whistle s\\nscream,\\nI hear the modulated chirring of the shrill cicada s\\nvoice,\\nAnd oblivious of my labor, make again my youthful\\nchoice\\nOf the berries from the brier, or the pebbles from the\\nstream\\nA glow of love is cast\\nOver all my life at last.\\nAs Fancy turns the pages of the pictures of the past.", "height": "2939", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0164.jp2"}, "165": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2964", "width": "1914", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0165.jp2"}, "166": {"fulltext": ":irr\\n1899", "height": "2939", "width": "1959", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0166.jp2"}, "167": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2964", "width": "1914", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0167.jp2"}, "168": {"fulltext": "wiiiiiiSSSfiiir\\n015 863 572", "height": "3091", "width": "1979", "jp2-path": "atearlycandlelig01mcin_0168.jp2"}}