LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



"PS 3 SOS 

Chap. Copyright No. 

ShelfUil3P£ 
1 100 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 







POEMS 



BY 

MRS. H. HOUGHTOX CHAAPEL, M. D., 

» » 

Palmetto. Florida. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR 



S$tn 



ROCKFORD, ILL. 

W. P. LAMB, BOOK AND JOB PRINTER 

1900 



51298 



1]_ibr*u jr of Conar<M6 
^wo Cores Receded 
SEP 24 1900 

Copyright «rtry 

SECOND COPY. 

ORDER DIVISION, 

OCT 13 1900 



1 9 



Copyrighted 1900 

BY 

MRS. H. HOUGHTON CHAAPEL. 31. D. 



^ THE MJ3* 0a 



OF 



" RKX.'' 



PRerflcc 



XI/HESE simple poems have been written in 
the resting moments of an arduous labor, 
many of them when sombre shadows lay thick- 
ly around. With a trembling hand I place them 
on the altar of Southern song, 

. . . . "Trusting 
That not one thought shall be destroyed. 
Or cast as rubbish on the void, 
When life's poor pile is made complete.** 

H. H. C. 
Evergreen Cottage, 
Palmetto, Fla.. 
August, 1900. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

The Blind Basket Maker .9 

The Snow City .... 15 

The Winter King . . . .22 
Rustic Poems: 

A Winter Evening ... 28 

A Day in the Fields .30 

A Summer's Day . . . 32 
The Nutting .... 35 

My Maud .... 38 
The Snow ..... 50 

Spring Will Come ... 53 

Mon Ami . - .55 

In Memoriam . . 56 

The Reply of the Flowers . 59 

Da uk is the Way ... 62 
Family Poems: 

To Julia . . . .64 

To Lizzie .... 65 

Many Years After . . 67 

To Mary ... 68 

To Elvira . .69 

A Twilight Scenl ... 71 

The Hunted Stag .71 

A Trifle .... 76 

To Arthur . . .78 

The Gleaner .... 80 



CONTENTS— continued. 



•To a Snow Bird 

Little Miriam 

Beautiful Hands 

Beautiful Feet 

Old Tom 

Perchance 

The Soldier 

The Dying Wife 

Linnie 

Make Way for Labor 

Sing to Me . 

The Two Voyagers 

The Christmas Tree 

Companion Poems: 
Sparkling Wine 
Crystal Water . 

To Minnie Mason 

War Pictures 

The Mountain Spring 

Claude's Story 

From Childhood to Age 

Little Manie 

The Soldier's Burial 

Sleigh Bells 

W t edding Bells . 

Learn Thou of the Eagle 

Agnes Yon de Yere 

Farewell 



PAGE 

82 

84 

86 

90 

94 

97 

98 

103 

104 

107 

111 

114 

127 

124 
126 
129 
131 
135 
137 
148 
150 
152 
155 
157 
161 
163 
176 



THE BLIND BASKET=MAKER 



ESIDE that giant walnut tree 
Where wild birds sing their carols free- 
You can go to their concerts every day 
And never a cent of change to pay — 

Stands a small brown cot; 

From the sunshine hot 

It is sheltered well ; 

A tree towers high 

Toward the azure sky, 

And reaches broad 

Far o'er the sod, 
While the swaying branches toss and swell, 
Stooping to throw some shining leaves 
Down o'er the low and mossy eaves 
Where a coral vine its fret- work weaves. 



10 

In the soft cool shade, 

On a bench rough hewn 
And rudely made, 

With osier wands around him strewn 
Sits the old blind man ; 
The summer breezes kindly fan 
His wrinkled brow that e'en looks fair 
Beneath the frosty locks of hair. 

With busy hands, 
In and out. 

He weaves the strands 
About and about; 
Two rounds of red and three of blue, 
Pulling the lithe wands through and through 
This way and that, back and forth, 
The birds over head are making mirth ; 

The soft airs lift 

And sweetly drift 

The odors down from the walnut tree 

Hidden away in its drapery. 

In and out, 

Two of yellow and four of white, 

About and about, 

While never a single ray of light 
Blesses the weaver's perished sight ; 



11 

Round and round, 

Two of red and three of blue, 

Weaving the osiers through and through 
Till the outer edge with green is bound. 

" Pity him "—and pray why ? 

A little nearer let's draw nigh, 

He has the look of a grand old kiug; 

What are the words we hear him sing? 

*' When the mists have rolled in splendor 

From the beauty of the hills, 
And the sunshine warm and tender 

Falls in gladness on the rills'* — 
In the sightless eyes there glows a fire 
As beautiful words the heart inspire ;— 
" W^e may read love's shining letter 

In the rainbow of the spray "— 

Tenderly, softly flows each note 
From the singer's trembling throat — 
" We shall know each other better 

When the mists have cleared away "— 
Now he drops his willow strands, 
Folds his aged, toil-marked hands; 
Like a tender, fervent prayer 
Rises on the quivering air— 
" When the weary watch is over 

And the mists have cleared away.'' 



12 

In and out, 

Three of crimson, three of green, 
About and about, 

A belt of creamy white between, 
The bottom fiat, 

Pulling the lithe twigs through and through 
This way and that, 

A narrow strip of delicate blue, 
Twining the osiers straight and long — 

List again to the weaver's song: 
" Beyond the sunset's radiant glow, 
There is a blighter world I know" — 
Mark his features, see what grace 
Flits across the gentle face 
As the earnest, warm desire 
Lifts the longing spirit higher — 
" Where golden glories ever shine 
Beyond the thought of day's decline," 
There is such a rapture now 
Resting on the massive brow, 
Surely brightest scenes elysian 
Greet his upturned, ioward vision. 

In and out, 

Round and round, 
About and about, 

Leaning the basket on the ground. 



13 

Three of crimson, three of green, 
A nother creamy belt between, 
Pnssing the osiers through and through, 
Reaching down for the turquoise blue, 
While never a golden ray of light 
Blesses the old man's palsied sight. 
In the tree the oriole swings 
Brushing the air with its ebon wings, 
Out from the purple lilac bush 
Float the tones of the mocking thrush ; 
Ever and anon the western breeze 
Ripples across the verdant leas, 
Bringing the scent of new-mown hay 
Sweet as the breath of early May. 

Through and through. 

Round and round, 
Trailing the wands upon the ground. 

Red, green and blue, 
Deftly he passes the willows long 
Always singing some happy song; 
Now there comes in accents rare 
Xotes of that inspiring air— 
11 We are bound across the river, 

To our home beyond the tide ; 
There to meet the dear departed 

On the shore, the other side." 



14 

He is poor, and blind and old, 

Thou hast riches manifold, 

Fields most broad, and woodlands fair. 

Stocks in bank wbich bring thee care, 

All the luxuries of wealth, 

Youthful vigor, manly health ; 

He must weave and blindly grope, 

But he has a glorious hope; 

Thou hast nought but earthly pelf, 

Keep thy pity for thyself. 

Should Death's angel pass to-night 
Thou wouldst tremble with affright, 
Thou wouldst feel thyself alone 
Hearing but the muffled tone 
Of the dipping marble oar 
And the water's sullen roar; 
He would clasp the angel's hand 
Knowing that a spirit band 
Guided by the silvery strains 
That float o'er the crystal plains 
Would lead him to the loved who wai f 
Beckoning near the sunset gate. 



THE SNOW CITY, 



N a distant Western prairie. 
Beautiful as home of fairy, 

Once I taught a Tillage school ; 
Laughing girls some three and thirty, 
Noisy boys some five and forty, 

Were the subjects of my rule. 

Winter snows like bridal trappings, 
Or like royal ermine wrappings, 

Lay upon the dear old ground ; 
Tree and bush were brightly shining. 
Pearly garlands each entwining 

All the prairie's edge around. 

Morning bells were clearly ringing, 
Music on the soft air swinging, 

W T hen the children came to me ; 
Joining hands they closed around me, 
Saying they in chains had bound me, 

Till I told them they were free. 



10 

Jacque, my little embryo Frenchman. 
With his peasant cap and plaid on. 

Wished to build une ville de neige;* 
He led off his clansmen quickly, 
And they gathered near him thickly. 

Near their chieftian, Jacque Le Peige. 

Then I piled my fuel higher, 
Made a bright and cheerful fire, 

Though it was not very cold ; 
Took my rocking-chair and knitting, 
By the window chose my sitting, 

That I might their work behold. 

There the} 7 built them many a dwelling, 
Stores for buying and for selling. 

Looking all so new and clean ; 
Some they built with. Gothic arches. 
Some with light Corinthian porches, 

While some modern styles were seen. 

Shaft and pyramid they builded, 
Seeming by the sunlight gilded, 

Rarest marble highly wrought; 
Ever going and returning, 
Built they there a hall for learning, 

Where the children might be taught. 

A snow city. 



Soon I saw some barns and stables, 
With their quaint and curious gables, 

Where the chirping birds might dwe 
Ever for each other caring, 
Kindly with each other sharing, 

Those young builders labored well 

By and by came Roderic running, 
.And with coaxing grace and cunning, 

Bade me out their work to see; 
"All our town is built and finished, 
Yet our strength is undiminished, 

Xow we'll snowball in great glee.'' 

I went onward with him walking, 
"Mid their mirth and merry talking, 

Pleased with their urbanity ; 
"Children," said I, " 'tis a pity 
That I see not in your city 

A Temple of Humanity '* 

" Oh ! dear teacher, do forgive us, 
And in confidence believe us, 

We forgot the task to try ; 
Now we'll build its snowy portals, 
Fit for mortals or immortals, 

With a steeple pointing high. 



18 

We Avill build it by the oak tare, 
That 0'ershadowed it may be, 

Build the walls both thick and strong, 
So the warm sun may not melt it. 
And the coming rain not pelt it, 

For we wish to k«*ep it long. 

I could hear their joyous singing, 

As the snow-blocks they were bringing, 

Taking care lest they might fall ; 
And with footsteps ever gladder, 
They brought out the fireman's ladder 

From the schoolhouse lower hall ; 

Placed it by the oak reclining, 
Where the crystal ice was shining 

On the branches brown and bare 
Climbed above and raised the steeple 
Which should tell to all the people 

That we had a temple fair. 

Then the dear hands, deftly able, 
Wrought at speaker's stand and table, 

Molded vase with Parian sheen ; 
Some one shouted, "Comrades, rally ! 
Let us to the woods for holly, 

Let us deck our walls with green." 



19 

Shining leaves and crimson berries, 
Glowing like mid-summer cherries, 

Gathered they in lovely piles ; 
Then we wove some charming mottoes, 
Fit for temples, halls, or grottos, 

Winning from us happy smiles. 

"We are sisters, we are brothers. 
Let us always help the others," 

Circled o'er the speaker's stand : 
"Strength and courage for the fearing,'' 
"Tender mercy for the erring," 

Arched above our windows grand. 

O'er the jutting doorway's centre. 
Where the many feet would enter, 

Welcome, welcome— "Life is Love; " 
Just beneath the tendrils twining. 
'Mid their green and crimson shining, 

Perched we there a snowy dove. 

On the morrow's early morning, 
By the sunrise golden dawning, 

In that child-built house we stood ; 
While we talked of present heaven, 
Which to mortals may be given, 

If our lives are pure and good. 



20 

Heads with reverential bending, 
Earnest voices calmly blending, 

We the "golden legend" read ; 
Turned away to daily duty, 
Filled with thoughts of love and beauty 

From the words we felt and said. 

Iu a week the sunny meltings 
And the playful children's peltings 

Left no trace of city there : 
But for many weeks the people 
Saw our temple's glittering steeple 

Pointing towards the heavens so fair 

Years have flown with sorrow's traces, 
Still I see those rapt, sweet faces. 

See them through the blinding tears ; 
And I hear the merry voices. 
As each youthful heart rejoices. 

Sounding o'er life's storms and fears. 

One there was w T ho called me mother, 
Whom each child called "little brother," 

But Death kissed my darling's brow : 
"Mamma, let us help the others, — 
That will sweeten all life's bothers," 

Ah ! how plain I hear it now. 



21 



Yes, I bear the silvery chiming, 
As the lips repeat the rhyming, 

Swinging up the frosty years : 
<k We are sisters, we are brothers — 
Mamma, let us help the others,— 

Win their smiles and dry their tears." 




THE WINTER KING 



fN the far arctic zone, 
That region so lone. 
Are palaces fair to be seen ; 
There are turrets and towers 
And raany-hued bowers 

All bright in their crystalline sheen. 

In that cold icy land. 
Those shapings so grand 

Were formed by the Winter King bold ; 
By his magical craft 
He fashioned each shaft, 

And touched it with purple and gold. 

For Borealis torch, 

He hewed out the porch 

Whence flame forth those wonderful rays. 
A w 7 hite temple of snow- 
He built long ago, 

Where the Spirit of Solitude prays. 



28 

Marching through bis proud halls, 
He frescoed the walls 

By sending his breath on the air. 
He wove his designs 
Of flowers and vines, 

Of all lovely things that ai e rare. 

Oh! the splendors and gleams 
Of those dazzling beams 

Where Wiuter King piles up his snows. 
Are excelled not, I ween, 
In realms of that Queen 

Who governs the Land of the Rose. 

Out of heart with each thing, 
This hoary old King 

Concluded a journey to take, 
So he called in tones gruff 
Prime ministers rough 

His brief preparations to make. 

Then they harnessed with speed 
The North Wind, his steed, 

To a chariot of bright, sparkling crystals. 
Soon the musical chimes 
Rang out in wild rhymes 

From bells of the purest icicles. 



24 

Whoop! away! aud hurrah! 
The southland afar 

Knew well that the tyrant was coming ; 
By his servants, the gales, 
He sent down the vales 

A tune which he often was humming. 

The white rose gave a sigh, 
A bellflower near by 

Chimed in with a most touching peal, 
From the frosty steed's track 
The dahlia shrank back 

With one pleading prayer for its weal. 

The blue China aster, 
As he rode past her. 

Gave up to the King her sweet breath. 
The tall golden-rod 
Bowed down to the sod 

And folded her fingers in death. 

Old ocean's fair daughters, 
The glittering waters, 

He manacled strong with his chain. 
The spring at its source, 
And the brook in its course, 

Acknowledged the might of his main. 



25 



Holding fast to his reins, 
He bounded o'er plains, 

Right glad in his death- giving powers, 
And arriving on time 
With flourish sublime, 

Drew up at the Summer Queen's bowers. 

In her vestments of green 
The bright Summer Queen 

Reclined on her soft, mossy couch, 
And when the stern King 
His presents would bring, 

She tremblingly shrank from his touch. 

But he threw down his glove, 
For he was in love, 

Declaring he came for a bride, 
So he over her tossed 
A rich veil of frost, 

And laid down his gifts by her side. 

Snowy wreaths for her curls, 
Frozen dewdrops for pearls 

With jewels of hail and of sleet, 
He gave to the Queen 
Her affections to win, 

The while kneeling low at her feet. 



The chill grasp of his hands 
Was like iron bands, 

And made the poor lady to start : 
His looks were so bold, 
His breath was so cold, 

She felt the blood freeze at her heart. 

She shunned his embrace, 
Threw the veil from her face 

Before the old King was aware: 
The soft, snowy wreath 
She cast to the earth, 

And flung the bright pearls from her hair. 

From his presence she fled, 
O'er the meadows she sped, 

To seek the warm, tropical prairies, 
While the queen of that land 
Sent out by command 

To meet her an army of fairies. 

But the stern Winter King. 

The icy old thing, 

Ha-hawed in irreverent lightness 

Saying, "Now at the helm 

I will govern this realm, 

And name it the Kingdom of Whiteness/ 



On some other time 
I'll tell you in rhyme 

How the Queen of the Land of the Sun 
With an army of beams 
Crossed meadows and streams 

And gave the usurper a "run.'' 

How these beams very quick 
Played him many a trick, 

That King of the Kingdom of Whiteness ; 
How they melted the snows 
In the Land of the Rose, 

And clothed it in emerald brightness. 




Rustic E?oems. 



A WINTER EVENING. 

yH EAR Memory, I bow to thee, 
J-^J Thou lovely, Vestal maid: 

swing thy censer over me, 

Bid present pains and sorrows flee 
And make the future fade. 

'Tis done ; I press thy soil once more, 
My own, my native land ; 

1 tread again thy rugged shore, 
I hear thy flashing breakers roar 

Along thy sea-girt strand. 

And now, beside my father's hearth, 

A careless, petted child, 
I listen to his tales of mirth, 
And deem his landmarks bound the earth, 

While lam thus beguiled. 



29 

The winter snows are piling high 

Along the meadow brown ; 
The angry winds go screaming by 
Half like a hunted human's cry 

When blood-hounds bay him down. 

But I am safe, the cottage fire 
Is glowing soft and warm ; 
Red tongues of flame are rising higher 
As if they proudly would aspire . 
To battle with the storm. 

The yellow fruit is passing round, 

The nut brown cake and cheese; 
The amber cider, bubble-crowned, 
That makes the life-tide quicker bound, 
Then flow at lazy ease. 

The tenants of the barn and fold 

Must have their nightly care; 

My father wraps me from the cold 

And takes me with him to behold 

For them his kindly care. 

The day is past, the moon's pale crest 

Is shining clear and fair; 
My father folds me to his breast. 
Then settles down to read and rest 

Within his great arm nhair. 



30 

Upon my tender mother's knee 

I lean my dreamy head ; 
Bright days of innocence and glee, 
When life from pain and grief was free, 

0, wherefore have ye fled? 



A DAY IN THE FIELDS. 

GAIN, dear Memory, stretch thy hand 
i®±. Toward the northern skies, 
And lead me to my Fatherland, 
Amid its hills and forests grand, 

And bid the Past arise. 

The early summer's peaceful dawn 
Smiles purple on the strath ; 

Bright dewdrops deck the budding thorn, 

Illumined by the rays of morn, 
Along the verdant path. 

The robins whistle in the brake, 

The soaring larks arise. 
Their sober pinions gaily shake 
And mount above the meadow lake 

To bathe in azure skies. 



31 

In yonder emerald pasture wide 

I see two snowy lambs, 
Dear objects of my childish pride, 
They frisk and sport from side to side 

Around their fleecy dams. 

The farmer's wain is at the door. 

My father bids me come; 
I leave the half swept oaken floor, 
And skip the narrow grass plot o'er, 

In joy with him to roam. 

He turns the heavy upland sod ; 

I gather violets blue, 
That in the soft breeze trembling nod 
Where nature kindly flings them broad 

To please her children true. 

We seek the shady, sparkling rill, 
Our noon-day thirst to slake; 
The happy birds above us sing 
And make the mossy greenwood ring, 
While answering echoes wake. 

Down by the babbling streamlet's side 

We eat our cool repast; 
The slender, shining minnows glide 
Along the winding, crystal tide 

To snatch the crumbs in haste. 



32 

Back to the field we take our way. 

He to his steady toil ; 
I watch the nimble squirrels play 
Till twilight shuts the gates of day 

Aud hushes man's turmoil. 

The night hawk in the gloomy swale 
Has sought its grassy bed ; 

Its wretched cries my ears assail. 

So lie a trusting woman's wail 
When faith and love have fled. 



A SUMMER'S DAY. 

Ty ET perfumed incense now ascend, 
J-^ Dear Memory, wild rose crowned 
Again thy magic influence lend, 
My waiting steps to-day would tend 
To consecrated ground. 

Again I walk my native land, 

My childhood's early home; 
I clasp my little brother's hand. 
Once more we in the churchyard stand 
By sister's grassy tomb. 



33 

The sexton rings the heavy bell 

That sounds so loud and clear; 
The liquid voices ris? and swell, 
Seeming of hope and heaven to tell. 
Inviting all to hear. 

The minister comes down the street, 

I see his silver hair ; 
I hear him now the children greet, 
In accents fatherly and sweet. 

Ere he ascends the stair. 

In notes of praise the tuneful choir 

Sends up the joyful song, 
As lofty words the heart inspire, 
The trembling lips new strength acquire. 

While gladder feelings throng. 

The good man says, " In ways of sin 

Our erring feet have trod ; 
And that in youth we should begin 
The narrow path to enter in, 

Shunning the one that's broad. ,? 

His benedictions, kind and good, 

Fall on his waiting flock: 
It seems to me the angels brood 
Above the place where late he stood 

Engaged in pious talk. 



34 

My heart is full of trusting love 

And hushed is every fear; 
Peace hovers o'er me like a dove, 
The " Better Land " lies just above, 

The "pearly gates" are near. 

The censer falls,— the sands move on, 

.Time's fingers press my brow,— 
Those early scenes have from me flown, 
Heaven lies behind the Great Unknown, 
A different country now. 




THE NUTTING, 



TND Priestess, swing thy censer now, 
L^l Let purple incense rise ; 
The desert sands have ceased to flow, 
Time's heavy hand has left my brow, 
The present from me flies. 

Back, back fco childhood's happy years, 
So full of joys, so free from fears, 

I stand a child today ; 
Sweet, sunny visions, simple, fair, 
Touching as some old cradle air, 

Have swept the past away. 

The hill tops wear a hazy look 

This Indian summer day; 
The voices of the crystal brook, 
Creeping along each pebbly nook, 

The inner senses sway. 



36 

On everything a dreamy haze 

Is resting like a veil ; 
The idle oxen cease to graze. 
And, in a kind of sleepy maze, 

They roam the pasture dale. 

■ 

My mother says, ''Your tasks perform 

With careful hands and fast, 
And as the day is bright and warm, 
We'll go beyond the upper farm 
To get our winter's mast.'" 

O joy ! the nimble fingers fly, 

The work is soon complete; 
We call her in with gladsome cry 
To see and praise our industry, 
That wrought the toil so fleet. 

We climb the stony brook side path 

With footsteps tripping light ; 
We pass the hermit's smoking hearth, 
To where the noisy stream in wrath 
Falls like a torrent quite. 

Across the pretty forest glade 

We hasten on our way, 
To find the beech-tree's thicker shade 
Beyond the talked-of railroad grade, 

Where sunbeams scarcely play. 



37 

Oh, see! here on the leafy floor 

The wealth of nuts so brown, 
Yet still, to have a richer store, 
My brother climbs to harvest more, 
And shakes them tumbling down. 

The squirrels chatter saucily. 
And scamper right and left ; 

A gray one talks with sanctity 
About the sin of robbery, 
And charges us with theft. 

At last we're tired; a pleasant sound 

Falls on our waiting ears; 
It is the cry of "Homeward bound.'" 
We leave the pleasant nutting-ground, 
And leave the charming years. 






MY MAUD. 



THE ARGUMENT. 



After many years of absence a gentleman returns to the 
home of his boyhood and youth. He meets a friend of his 
early years during a ramble over the old fields and woods. This 
friend asks for a history of the gentleman's life and the reason 
why he has never married. The following lines are the reply : 



0UST where yon curling wreath of smoke 
Ascends toward the sky, 
You see a little brown old cot 
Behind those poplars high. 

This way you see those ancient panes 

Lit by the sunset's blaze, 
'Twas there, dear Hal, that Maud and I 

Spent childhood's halcyon days. 



Behind that purple lilac's hedge - 
A snowy tablet gleams; 

My darling Maud is sleeping there 
And with her sleep my dreams. 



39 

Ah, did I say that she is there, 
My boyhood's blessed love? 

No, no, the angels beckoned her 
To join their bands above. 

When we had gathered winter store 

Of shining nuts and fruit 
She put aside her earthly dress 

To don an angel's suit. 

And in the solemn autumn time 

I laid her to her rest, 
My kisses on her marble brow, 

Her pale hands on her breast. 

Since then I've journeyed far and wide 
And lived the ways of men, 

But never from my heart shut out 
My fairy of the glen. 

Now often in these distant years 

As twilight shadows fall, 
I think I feel her soothing touch 

And hear her gentle call. 

Come with me to this mossy bank 
Away from noise and strife 

And listen while I tell to thee 
The story of my life. 



40 

Then thou wilt know, perchance, my frieDd, 

Why I have dwelt alone, 
Why gentleness marks all my ways 

And lingers in my tone. 

I never knew a brother's love 

Or felt a sister's care; 
No young companions in my play 

Or in my toil to share. 

And thus I grew till I was ten, 

A lonely, petted boy,— 
I had my parents' deepest love 

And was their greatest joy. 

I loved my books and loved to draw, 

And on the grass would lie 
In some retired, romantic spot 

Till noontide's sun rose high. 

When lengthened shadows showed to me 

The evening's cooler beams, 
I strolled upon these wooded hills 

Indulging in my dreams. 

About this time a letter came 

From one my mother knew, 
It read, "Kind friend, I'm dying now, 

My Maud I give to you." 



41 

" 0, take aDd shield my orphan child, 

Let no dark sin allure, 
Watch over her in all her ways, 

Keep thou her young life pure." 

"My father brought the orphan home, 

A child of scarcely four, 
For fourteen glad and joyous years 

I was alone no more." 

I called her mine, and taught her feet 
•O'er these green hills to stray ; 

In perfect happiness she dwelt 
Beside me all the day. 

Henceforth for me a fuller trust, 
A deeper love, more broad, 

Went out to every living thing 
And centered back on Maud. 

I taught her dimpled hands to clasp 
In grateful praise and prayer 

At rosy dawning' s morning light, 
She had my earliest care. 

When mind matured she studied well 
With earnest heart and will ; 

Her teachers found a pleasant task 
Their lessons to instill. 



42 

Set free from school, we took our way 
Through glen and copse and brake, 

Or sailed till moonlight lit the wave 
Across our garden lake. 

In other mtods we chose a book 
That told of ancient times. 

Or lingered till the shut of day 
With poet's mystic rhymes. 

When night her starry mantle 1 hrew 
Around our sleeping earth, 

We built our airy castles by 

Our pleasant cottage hearth. 

In those glad times ere sorrow's touch 
Had flecked my hair with gray. 

'Twas black as midnight's raven wing, 
Maud's like an harvest day. 

Falling as liquid sunlight down 

Below her slender waist. 
Ne'er have I seen a maiden's head 

With such a proud wealth graced. 

She with her girlish hands would braid 

Our locks in varied fold 
For heart and ring in quaim device 

Like ebony and gold. 



With her long hair on some dark grounr 
Sage mottoes she would trace. 

For markers in our favorite books 
To guard our mutual place. 

Her face was like June's brightest day, 

Her eyes a violet blue, 
Her lips were like the summer rose. 

Moist with the mountain dew*. 

My eyes were black, my skin a hue 
Like to a child of Spain, 
The quick blood mantling to my cheek 
When Fancy touched my brain. 

Her form was slender as the reed, 
That bows before the wind; 

Her footfall, light as elfin tread. 
Scarce left a print behind. 

And I was tall and stoutly built. 

As hardy as the pine, 
Or like the sturdy forest oak, 

Supporter of the vine. 

These contrasts suited well my brush, 

I, with a tyro's pride, 
Made many pictures of myself, 

Maud standing by my side. 



First I was Tempest, sowing winds 
And scattering lightnings free, 

With knitted brows and puckered lips 
Most comical to see. 

Along my pathway trees bent down 
And foaming torrents sped, 

While pile on pile of angry clouds 
Enwreathed my boyish head. 

My Maud was sunshine, her bright smile 

O'er all a halo threw, 
Gilding the edge of my black clouds 

With beauty soft and new. 

Above her rested sapphire skies, 
By bow of promise spanned ; 

Around her grew most brilliant flowers, 
The rarest of the land. 

Then I was Night, dark winter's Night, 

Upon a snowy plain ; 
The stars to do me homage came 

With comets in their train. 

Maud was the Morning, young and fair, 

Upon the eastern hills ; 
Her cheerful light shone o'er the moors, 

And on the silver rills. 



45 

Next, weary Palmer I would be, 

Beside some lonely shrine, 
While Maud, the picture of my saint, 

Seemed like a thing divine. 

Sometimes I thought she was too good, 

Too stainless for this earth ; 
The passing thought that Death might come 

Would hush my noisiest mirth. 

Where'er she walked, where'er she turned, 
She scattered blessings 'round ; 

Blessings on every human shape, 
On bird, and horse, and hound. 

The smallest insect had her love, 

That nestles in the grass ; 
I've seen her turn aside her foot 

To let the glow-worm pass. 

She blossomed thus to woman's form, 

A being pure and fair, 
The glorious burden of my thoughts, 

My worship and my care. 

I never framed my love in words, 

From her no vow I drew, 
But, truer than the polar star, 

I knew her heart was true. 



46 

A mild October's frost had tinged 
The maple leaves with red, 

While Indian summer's golden haze 
Its dreamy influence shed. 

'Twas not a day to idly sit 
O'er musty tomes to pour; 

My brain was pondering other themes, 
More precious than their lore. 

I thought on childhood's happy days, 

Then on my present life, 
Hummed to mysell* in hopeful tune, 

"My Maud must be my wife." 

I threw my books aside and called, 
"Coipe out with me my Maud, 

I have a tale to tell to thee, 

Beneath the beech tree broad." 

With basket swinging on her arm, 

She gaily came to me, 
Saying, "If thou wilt tell a tale, 

I'll gather nuts for thee." 

I took her basket and her hand, 
To lead her o'er yon bridge ; 

We crossed the woodland's western side 
To reach the nut-brown ridge. 



47 

Here ia the beech tree's quiet shade, 
With sunbeams glinting through, 

I told my Maud the promised tale, 
That tale forever new. 

She would be eighteen iu a week. 

Then standing by my side, 
Beneath the fragrant chas'e tree's shade, 

Would be my bonnie bride. 

But on the very day that I 

Should claim her more my own, 

We stood beside the shrouded form 
Of Maud, my cherished one. 

They made her narrow, lonely grave 

Beneath yon green arcade, 
Where we had conned our lessons o'er, 

Or in our leisure played. 

My home became too sad and still, 
With Maud no longer there; 

I missed her footsteps in my room. 
And on the winding stair. 

I missed her in my daily walks, 
Adown the brown burnside, 

I missed her everywhere I turned, 
My darling and my pride, 



48 

1 missed her in her household ways, 

In all her toils so fleet, 
And in our social evening hours 

I missed her from her seat. 

Up to the city's peopled waste 

T turned to labor then ; 
To hush the voices of my heart 

I strove for fame with men. 

I strove as always man should strive, 

Whose hopes are in the tomb. 
And steady in the course of Right 
I half forgot my gloom. 

Years, years have passed, and I have won 

An artist's honored name; 
Beside my country's gifted sons 

Some humble place I claim. 

But sometimes now, when strife with men 

Stirs up my soul to sin, 
When passions at the portals stand, 

Waiting to enter in, 

The priestess Memory will swing 

Her censer on the air, 
While incense from the by-gone days 

Falls round me like a prayer. 



49 

And though I've passed my manhood's prime, 

Time's signet on my brow, 
I'm wandering o'er these hills again 

With Maud, my angel now. 

We sit beneath the beach once more. 

Health's bloom upon her cheek, 
I gaze into her azure eyes, 

Those azure eyes so meek. 

Across my breast her amber carls 

Are floating like a veil, 
As side by side we tell the stars 

Beneath the moonbeams pale. 

Now, Hal, you know the reason why 

That I have never wed, 
My heart is true to Angel Maud, 

Whom angels upward led. 

A fevv more years and this frail form 

Must rest beneath the sod, 
Then we will walk the Upper Fields, 

My glorious darling, Maud. 



THE SNOW. 

TT7 HE lovely sno n, 

ej® qy^ e p UrGj w hite snow 

Slantingly, 

Silently, 
Is comiEg down; 
O'er field and town, 
O'er upland leas, 
O'er bare, brown trees, 
It weaves and weaves 

Its tapestry 
In ermine fold, 
Too rich for gold 

To buy. 

Oq quaint, old gables 
And crazy stables 

Gracefully, 

Silently 



51 

It makes new ends 
With curving bends; 
O'er stone and stump 
And uncouth hurnp 
It spreads and spreads 

Its covering, 
Till forms most fair 
Like sculpture rare 

Arise. 

O'er prairie wide 
And low hillside 

Protectingly, 

Silently, 
A mantle warm 
To shield from harm 
Earth's naked breast, 
Through nature's rest, 
It trails and trails ; 

Confidingly 
The herb and seed 
For creature need 

Are kept. 

Thus the winter's snow 
O'er all doth throw 

Touches of beauty, 

Of magic art; 



52 

Thus earth, all bedight 

In vestments of white, 
Is doing her work, 

With tender heart 

Is nursing with care 

Her progeny rare, 
Till springtime's warm breath 
From semblance of death 
Shall bid them to start 

To newness of life. 

Thus falleth the snow 

Like garments of wool. 

While our glad hearts doth glow 
With gratitude full. 
Slantingly, 
Silently 

The snow comes down— 
The pure, white snow, 

The fleecy snow 

Comes tumbling down 
O'er wood, field and town : 

Thanks, thanks for the snow,— 
The clean, white snow. 



SPRING WILL COME. 

^ITHERED leaves are sadly falling, 
^jftjL Falling with a mournful sound; 
Quivering in the pale, cold sunlight, 
Rustling o'er the frosty ground. 

Heavy clouds are slowly passing, 
Passing 'neath the starry blue; 

Throwing shadows o'er the woodland, 
Shadows of a somber hue. 

Wintry storms are fiercely beating, 
Beating 'gainst the hard, brown earth : 

Wintry winds pipe dismal music, 
Hushing even fireside mirth. 

Yet the springtime will not tarry, 
It will come with buds and leaves; 

Bringing joy and making ready 
For the summer's golden sheaves. 



MON AMI, 



fTfOURAGE,. my friend, the darkest horn 
w Is just before the dawDing ; 
Along thy pathway soon will glow 
The rosy light of morning. 

Suppose the clouds are thick and black. 

The sun above is shining; 
The dwellers on the royal heights 

Behold their silver lining. 

Suppose it storms for days and days, 

Or even weeks together, 
The bow of promise, in good time, 

Will tell of pleasant weather. 

Suppose, again, the dismal "Blues'' 

Are all their forces airing ; 
Pray will it help the matter much 

To idly sit despairing? 



Ah, no ! be brave, toil ou in love, 
Whatever troubles harrow ; 

Learn wisdom from the tiny flowers, 
The snowbird and the sparrow. 

Yes, trust and toil with" all thy might. 

And so shall Hope resplendant— 
Man's comfort in his darkest days — 

Be ever thy attendant. 




1Fn jflDemortam. 



WHITTIEB. 



The day is done, 
Along the prairies bare thick darkness lies, 

The storm but just begun 
Is marshalling the dread forces of the skies. 

The old oak tree 
That stands as sentinel beside my gate, 

Its gnarled arms tosses free 
To grapple fiercely with its wintry fate. 

Loud roar the winds, 
Dashing the sleet against the sounding pane, 

Rattling the slender blinds. 
Shaking the rafters with a giant's main. 



57 

The night is drear,— 
Within the lamp shines brightly over all, 

Throwing its luster clear 
On shelf of chosen books and pictured wall. 

Reach forth thy hand,— 
The blue and gold,— dear Whittier, so brave; 

Surely his rugged strand 
Anthems of Freedom chant with ocean wave. 

The captive's friend,— 
Heaven's choicest blessings ever on him rest ; 

May Peace his steps attend 
Through realms of time to regions of the blest. 

"0 Lord! how long?" 
All nations free did hear his earnest prayer, 

His burning words of song, 
That filing their clarion tones to Heaven's pure air. 

k 'G0D OF ALL RIGHT!" 

Yes. he appealed to Freedom, Truth and Power; 

Men girded for the fight 
And won the nation's meed— sweet Freedom's dower. 

The lamp burns low, — 
The winds have lulled, —hark I o that sobbing sound! 

It seems like nature's woe 
O'er lash and dungeon that did once abound. 



58 

Oh, Whittier! 
Through coming time how grand the joy must be 

To know thy words did stir 
True hearts to greater love for Liberty. 




THE REPLY OF THE FLOWERS. 



BEAUTIFUL flowers! 
From the frozen earth 
What mystic powers 

Have called you forth 
To gladden our sight 
With your cheering light? 



Did some wizard stand 
By your mossy couch, 

Wave his slender wand 
With his magic touch, 

And bid you unfold 

Your petals of gold ? 



60 

You are smiling so 

From your lowly bed. 
That even the snow 

With a silent tread 
Is owning your sway 
And melting away. 

Dear little flowers ! 

Why are you so brave? 
By w T hat latent powers 

Do you spring from your grave, 
And open your eyes 
To the changing skies? 

All at once a faint twinkling, 

A perfume most rare 

Made balmy the air,— 
Then a delicate tinkling; 

I bent my ear low, 

Quite down to the snow. 
"We give you the Reasons/* 

Said they with a nod, 
"Our times and our seasons 

To spring from the sod 
Are governed by laws 
As effect follows cause, 
From our long night of rest 



61 

In our cozy earth nest, 

We were waked from our dreams 

By the April sunbeams. 

"They warmed us and cheered us, 
Thus far they have reared us, 

Clothing us in a suit 
Of green, brown and gold, 
In shades manifold, 

From stamen to root ; 
Our hearts they inwrought 
With beautiful thought, 
While we love the dear earth. 
The land of our birth, 
We all join as one 
To worship the sun." 




DARK IS THE WAY. 



Dark is the way, 
Rugged the path our weary feet must tread. 

We see no cheering ray 
Shine o'er the hills that rise but just ahead. 

Morning is past, 
The evening shadows mingle dark and long, 

The twilight gathers fast, 
E'en now we hear the night bird's mournful song. 

How can we trust 
To any hand to lead us o'er the steeps? 

We touch but crumbling sands, 
In Love's and Friendship's Feudalistic Keeps. 

In life's fresh hours [mead, 

When bright birds sang, and dewdrops gemmed the 

And sparkled on the flowers, 
We deemed that Love to fairer heights might lead. 



63 

Ah ! vain the thought. 
The beacon fires that glowed aloug the hills 

Were rudely set at naught, 
And quenched by streams from Passion's bitter rills. 

Then hopefully 
We said, "Pure Friendship now shall be our guide, 

And bear us company 
Through lonely vale and over steep hillside." 

Few were the days 
We held sweet converse — even Friendship's self 

Sought Traffic's broader ways 
And bartered finer wares for Mammon's pelf. 

Then dear, brave Truth, 
We stretched our weary, trembling hands to thee, 

And from thy radiant youth 
Have gathered strength to feel that we are free. 



Family E?oems 



TO JULIA 

SCORE of years have flown since last we met, 
Thy form is bendii g 'Death the weight of time, 
The locks of white above thy brow are set, 
Thy feet are tending toward the fairer clime. 

But with thee dwells the blessed " Peace of God," 
Sweet incense from thy past must ever rise, 

Thy tender sympathies have been so broad 
For all of suffering in human guise. 

Oh, brave, strong sister ! thou hast been my guide 
When I from worldly dross have sought to rise; 

Dear thoughts of thee and of thy love so tried 
Have borne my spirits up to clearer skies. 



65 

Thy hands than mine were stronger unto good, 
Thy feet were swifter in the paths of right, 

Thy heart on better things did ever brood, 
The garments of thy soul seemed touched with light, 

Whene'er I ponder o'er thy life of care, 
The daily self-denial thou hast known, 

A gentle fragrance permeates the air 
Like that from orchard blossoms round me strown. 

From Love's rich chalice I now pour to thee 
A full libation from my heart's best wine, 

And pledge myself while life remains to me 
To keep thy precious name on Memory's shrine. 



TO LIZZIE. 

' \T7lS night, I put my toil away, 

®1^ And gentle thoughts of thee bear sway,- 
Through winding paths and purple haze 
We live again our childhood days. 

Your arm about my form is pressed, 
My hand in yours doth fondly rest, 
We sit within our mossy nook, 
And list the voices of the brook. 



Life's morning bells chime on the breeze, 
A glory gilds the budding trees, 
The hills are crowned with tender green, 
The crystal streamlet flows between. 

The yellow violet scents the air, 
The twin-flower yields its fragrance rare. 
The willow-tassels nod and swing 
Around the borders of the spring. 

The bluebird flits from bush to bush, 
The hour is glad with song of thrush, 
The robin plucks from off her breast 
A feather for her babies' nest. 

Again we walk our cottage green, 
To watch the gorgeous sunset scene; 
Again the angels seem so near 
We have a simple, childish fear, 

As through the fading western light 
They come to guard our rest at night, 
That they may rend their draperies 
Against the branches of the trees. 

The sky hangs low and Heaven is close, 
Just by that, cloud of gold and rose, 
A stairway leads from earthly sod 
Up to the "pearly gates of God." 



67 

Now, sister, Memory folds her hands, 
We dwell apart in distant lands, 
The birds have flown, and heaven no more 
Lies just beyond the western shore. 



MANY YEARS AFTER. 

T^ AY, sister, nay, say not, " 'tis sad," 
l/£ My heart is joyous, strong and glad ; 
Out from those mythic dreams of youth 
Has come to me a finer truth. 

Through sorrow, suffering and sin, 

I've learned that heaven dwells within; 

It is no more a distant land, 

With "great white throne" and "elders" grand. 

I've learned to comfort, help and bless, 
To soothe life's pains with kind caress; 
No hosts of winged angel bands 
Can match with earnest, human hands. 

Before these simple truths I bow, 
Well pleased with heaven here and now, 
Content with all that Nature brings 
Anent the faith in angel's wings. 



68 



TO MARY. 



T\?7T Y youngest sister, I did guide thy steps 
J^A^ Through infant play, 

My fingers dallied with thy curling locks 
At shut of day. 

And when thy larger years came creeping on, 

I led thee forth 
To pine tree shade behind our rustic cot, 

To sport in mirth. 

Oft hand in hand we roamed the fair fields o'er, 

To gather flowers, 
Or with our baskets went in search of nuts 

For winter hours. 

But now time's hand is heavy on my brow, 

Yet love for thee 
Leads me in memory back to those dear days 

From sorrow free. 

I feel thy dimpled arm about my neck, 

Thy lips press mine, 
I catch the fragrance from thy breath like that 

From summer kine. 



69 

The busy day is done, thy dreamy head 

Rests near my heart, 
Thou sleepest— I wake — Fancy lets fall the wand, 

The hot tears start. 

I blindly read the page which tells to me 

That fell disease 
In dire consumption's ever fearful form 

Thy vitals seize. 

Kisses I send thy brow, thy cheeks, thy lips, 

And thy pale hands; 
O, Death, in tender valor bear ray loved one o'er 

Life's sunset sands. 



TO ELVIRA. 

OTHER-Sister, Sister-Mother, 
From the upper realms of light, 
Listen to my full heart yearnings, 
Hover near me just to-night. 

Tell me of my loved ones with thee 

In the fields of Paradise, 
Happy there beside the waters 

That from living spriugs arise. 



When they sing their songs of gladness, 
Sing the souls' most glorious birth, 

Do they stop and sometimes hearken 
To the voices of the earth ? 

If they do, 0, watch their faces, 
Tell me, do their features show 

That they have a thought of pity 
For our sometimes speechless woe? 

Eldest of our mother's daughters, 
Oft my thoughts will turn to thee, 

Dwelling on the care so tender 
That thou always gavest me. 

Mother-Sister, Sister-Mother, 
Heavy fell the chastening rod, 

When through Casco's stormy waters 
Thou passed up from earthly sod. 



$<n 



A TWILIGHT SCENE. 



QjT WEET picture! in the gray twilight 
*^J The children, robed in garments white, 
Are ready for the hours of night. 

The mother, free from household care, 
Now strokes the baby's shining hair, 
While others gather near her chair. 

They make a circle, hand in hand, 
Then beg in language quaintly grand, 
For tales again from Wonder-Land. 

The mother for the dozenth time 

Tells how, when woodland flower-bells chime, 

Ten elfins dance upon a dime. 

But though they dance, they are not glad, 
Because in teasing tricks quite bad 
They make each other very sad. 



She tells of fairies kind and good, 
Who in the hearts of lilies brood, 
Just on the borders of the wood. 

They go to bed in cups of moss, 
All lined with silken, amber floss, 
And to each other kisses toss. 

After the still, long night is through, 
They bathe themselves in drops of dew, 
Hiding among the violets blue. 

The children list with upturned eyes, 
Wondering wherein the secret lies. 
That makes mamma so good and wise. 

When the loved fairy tales are done, 
With pattering feet each little one 
For goodnight kiss doth gaily run. 

The last fond word is scarcely said 
Before each busy, curly head 
Is dreaming in its snowy bed. 

O, man, so tired of world-wise ken, 
What wouldst thou give to lean again 
Upon thy mother's knee, as then? 



73 

And lady, cramped in fashion's mold, 
Would st thou not barter gems and gold 
To feel a mother's arms unfold 

Thy form, and draw thee to her breast? 
The dearest spot on earth to rest — 
'Twere Paradise to be so blest. 

Ah ! me, to be so free from care, 
While fairy pinions fan the air, 
Is one of childhood's favors fair. 

The years go by, our trust grows less, 

We slip away from that caress, 

That ever sought to soothe and bless. 

No more the fairy pinions stir, 

The great world's noisy hum and whir 

Our simple infant visions blur. 

0, would some fairy, good and mild, 
Hush all our grown-up passions wild, 
And make us as a little child. 

A little child in trust and love, 

As free from guile as spotless dove, 

Living the grosser life above. 



THE HUNTED STAG. 

TT7HE huntsman's horn at early morn 
^J- 9 Is echoing down the glen, 
The faithful hounds, with eager bounds, 
Come forth to meet the men. 

On yonder plain is seen again 

The peaceful, grazing deer, 
They scent the air, and look with care 

To learn if foe appear. 

Whoop ! whoop ! hurrah ! they spy afar 
Their frightened, meek-eyed prey ; 

Swift, swift the chase ! the hunter's race 
Is bold and free to-day ! 

Now up the fen the hounds and men 
Dash with a headlong speed ; 

Across the brake, round forest lake, 
O'er vale and upland mead. 



75 

Past peak and crag the an tiered stag 

Keeps ever on before, 
Till noonday's gleam, beyond the stream, 

Lights up a friendly shore. 

With one wild bound he clears the ground 
And swims the swollen river, — 

He's safe at lasb, the danger's past, 
The chase is given over. 

O, soul of thine and heart of mine, 

When passions fierce pursue, 
Up ! for the pack is on the track, 

Flee fen and forest through. 

Speed, speed ye well ! o'er field and fell 

Outstrip pursuing hounds, 
Your shore attain, so shall ye gain 

Life's safer, higher grounds. 



A TRIFLE. 



VKR the snow, 

So pure and white. 
The cold winds blow 
This wintry night ; 
In quivering streams 
The pale moonbeams 
On all things fall 
Like a shining pall 
To-night. 



Under the snow, 
So pure and white, 

In their beds so low. 
Shut away from light, 

Our darlings sleep, 

While the bright stars keeji 

From towers on high 

In the holy sky 
Their watch. 



Above the snow, 

Above the clouds, 
Where no winds blow 

And no gloom enshrouds, 
Where no cold breath 
From the shores of death 
Sweeps o'er the strand 
Of that bright land 

They live. 

And we shall meet 

All in good time, 
Yes, we shall greet 

In that fair clime, 
Where no sorrows fall, 
And no storms appall, 
Where beyond the tomb 
The spring flowers bloom 

Always. 



^*5 



TO ARTHUR, 

On bringing me a handful of purple Houstonia blossoms in 
February. 



YTYHY dimpled hands have brought to me 
ejte) rp^ e heralds f ^he gpring^ 

Emblems of truth and purity, 
Of innocence and modesty, 
And every lovely thing. 

Hast thou been out, my darling child, 

Within the woodland bowers, 
And didst thou find in crevice wild, 
Where morning sunbeam longest smiled, 

These purple tinted flowers? 

/wandered on the distant hills 
And searched with earnest care 

Along the silver-footed rills 

Whose tinkling melody infills 
The balmy, southern air. 



79 

And no bright, fragrant flowers / found, 

To cheer my longing sight. 
Although I scanned each nook around, 
And bent above each mossy mound 

To catch their trembling light. 

Perchance a clearer sight to thee, 

My blessed, blue-eyed boy, 
Is given, so thou quick can see 
Spring's amethystine jewelry 

That brings thee sweetest joy. 

Dear Arthur, may thy vision keen 

In all life's coming hours 
Lead thee to where the emerald green 
Is decked with blossoms pure and clean, 

Like these sweet-scented flowers. 




THE GLEANER. 

YjYHE crimson sun is slanting down the west, 
^Jl 9 The shadow's growing long; 
I see the purple on the mountain's crest, 
I hear the nightbird's song. 

The notes are glad because the toil is done, 
The autumn sheaves are bound ; 

The master calls, "Ho ! reapers every one 
Come from the harvest ground.'' 

Upon the hills, bathed with supernal glow, 

I see their sickles gleam ; 
And ere the shadows fill the vale below 

They will have crossed the stream. 

While here I wander on the stubble plain, 

With bleeding feet and sore, 
Scanning each nook for heads of bearded grain 

To add unto my store. 



81 

Ah ! soon a solemn voice to me will say, 

Gleaner, to thee I call, 
Come from my fields while yet the light of day 

Shall on thy pathway fall." 

With tearful eyes and almost empty hands, 

Wearied and sad I come; 
I bring no yellow r sheaves with golden bauds, 

To give me welcome home. 

While yet the morn was shining bright and fair, 

I waited on the green, 
And only after noontide's bustliug care 

Did I go forth to glean. 

Then my slow feet were tired from household toil, 

Others before had been, 
Scarce naught I bring thee from the evening's moil, 

Kind Master, take me in. 

The cold night dews are falling on my hair, 

The clouds portend the rain ; — 
O, take me in, and give thy sheltering care, 

Let me not plead in vain. 

I ask no wages for my meager store. 

And claim no honored seat; 
I only beg to rest till night is o'er, 

Beside the reaper's feet. 



TO A SNOW BIRD. 



HEX angry clouds their flags unfurl, 

And tempests round thy pathway hurl. 

What guides thee through the wintry sky. 
And gives the strength to clear the storm? 
Whence comes thy clothing, soft and warm, 
That saves thee from the Snow King's harm? 

Dear bird, so shy. 

So brave, defying wind and sleet, 
So graceful, in thy movements fleet. 

Thy pinions spread—now here, now there, 
Now swinging on a blade of sedge, 
Now picking seeds from icy hedge, 
Now resting on my window ledge. 

So free from care. 



83 

Sweet bird, the power that teaches thee 
Is kind Instructor, too, of me; 

Shall I, a creature of the dust, 
When troubles meet in stormy strife, 
And sweep across the fields of life, 
With all the ills of winter rife. 

That Power distrust? 

Ah, no! thou tiny, flitting thing, 
More regal than a human king ! 

What precious lessons thou dost teach 
Until my winter's day is spent 
I'll strive like thee to be content 
With every humble blessing sent 

Within my reach. 




LITTLE MIRIAM. 



Tu ITTLE Miriam, happy sprite, 

J^A Like some radiant songster bright, 

You are flitting here and there, 

Like the songsters, free from care ; 

Ever busy as a bee 

At your work or play I see; — 

Little Miriam, child of light, 

With the spirit garments white. 

Little Miriam, come to me 

With your heart from sorrow free ; 

On my heart a sadness lies 

And I'm yearning for the skies ; 

Yearning for that peaceful home, 

Where no storms of sorrow come; — 

Little Miriam, come to me, 

With your young heart, glad and free. 



85 

Little Miriam,— bring me flowers 
From your mama's golden bowers ; 
Bring me pansies gemmed with dew, 
They will make me think of you; 
Bring them to my quiet room, 
They will light the twilight gloom ;- 
Little Miriam, bring me flowers 
In my darkest, saddest hours. 

Little Miriam, just one kiss, 
Just this one. and only this. 
Keep the rest for pale mama, 
And for roguish, teasing pa; 
Keep one for your darling brother : 
For the baby keep another ; — 
Little Miriam, just one ki.sn, 
Just this one, and only this. 

Little Miriam, did you stray 
From the angels in your play? 
Always when I see your eyes 
I have thoughts of Paradise ; 
Have a thought that you belong 
To the children's angel throng; — 
Little Miriam, did you stray 
Down the angels' shining way ? 



86 

Little Miriam, should you go 
Where the living waters flow, 
Tell my spirit Linnie dear, 
That you knew her mother here, 
That your lips to hers were pressed, 
That you nestled on her breast; — 
Little Miriam, do not go, 
We should miss you here below. 

Miriam's mother, do not hold 
Miriam in too strong a fold. 
On some mournful, solemn day 
She from you may slip away ; 
Death may take a flower so fair 
For the Upper Gardener's care ; — 
Miriam's father, do not clasp 
Miriam in too strong a grasp. 




BEAUTIFUL HANDS. 



BEAUTIFUL hands, Dot soft and white, 
Not gloved and hid from the blessed light; 
On the fingers small no diamonds shine, 
No rubies gleam from the distant mine; 
No Teachings forth to the gaping crowd, 
As the welkin rings with greetings loud, 
No gestures wild, no claspings tight 
In the din and strife for "woman's right/' 
No scepter grasped 'mid golden sheen, 
With the regal grasp of a royal queen, 
But stained and masked by labor hard, 
Yet subjects fit for the highest bard. 
Beautiful hands ! 



Beautiful hands, for duty strong, 
In the sternest tasks, however long,— 
The willing* hands of the loving bride 
Take up life's work with an honest pride, 
Create new charms or garner wealth 
For the happy home of peace and health ; 
Whene'er the husband tarries long 
In the marts of trade or amid the throng, 
The beautiful hands for him prepare 
The things that make for his loving care, 
And when he returns, his wife to greet, 
The eager hands give welcome sweet. 
Beautiful hands. 

Beautiful hands ! in kindly deeds 
For the poor man's child or the widow's needs, 
They are ever ready and true and just 
To divide the loaf in quiet trust, 
And without a hope of reward or fame, 
They freely give in humanity's name, 
They bear for the thirsty lips to sup 
The crystal draft in the humble cup ; 
And more than this, with a tender care 
For those who are caught in passion's snare. 
They throw that beautiful mantle round, 
Which tinkles not with an empty sound. 
Beautiful hands ! 



89 

Beautiful hands, the girls and boys 
Are ever eager for childhood's toys, 
And the diligent hands are never still, 
But toil with a mother's cheerful will 
To form the kite or cover the ball, 
To gladden the hearts of each and all. 
The years go by and the sons are grown,— 
One goes away to the nearest town ; 
In the sultry days he sickens and dies,— 
No mother was there to close his eyes : 
They bear the form to the old home place, 
Her lips are touching the dear, dead face. 
Beautiful hands! 

Beautiful hands, I feel them now 
As in other years they pressed my brow, 
When the fever burned and the hot blood sped 
Through the throbbing veins of my aching head ; 
I feel the touch of the soothing palm, 
As it sought the fiery rage to calm,— 
And when again I was strong and well, 
Those gentle hands on my head would dwell, 
As her voice would speak of a countless gain 
Oft coming through sorrow and strife and pain,— 
Of a straighter path up life's mountain side 
To sunlit slopes where our views grow wide. 
Beautiful hands. 



90 

Beautiful hands, forever at rest. 
Now crossed on the cold and pulseless breast, 
Their every deed has been "well done;" 
What grander meed have the grandest won ? 
Grief sits enthroned on the desolate hearth, 
And darkness broods o'er life's rough path; 
The generous hands are forever closed. 
From deeds of love they have now reposed ; 
The beautiful hands have ceased to guide, 
The "bairns" are scattered far and wide, 
But often from dreams in stranger lands. 
I wake to the touch of my mother's hands ! 
Beautiful hands! 



BEAUTIFUL FEET. 



f|J EAUTIFUL feet, not small and white, 
l^J Encased in fashion's trappings tight, 
Not primly walking the parlor floor, 
Or mincing the city pavement o'er, 
Not keeping time to the viol's song, 
Or going forth with the giddy throng, 
Not marching on to the dreadful strife 
Where the smoky field is with carnage rife 



91 

Not treading in pride the nation's halls, 
Or scaling ambition's crumbling wails, 
But the sunburnt feet of a barefoot boy, 
As he bounds along in innocent joy. 
Beautiful feet ! 

Beautiful feet, they climb the hills 
And thread the beds of the silver rills, 
They seek the glens where the wild bird scream i 
And fathom the depths of the swollen streams; 
They scale the crags for the eaglet's nest. 
And press the flowers on the meadow's breast; 
They chase the goats o'er their zigzag paths, 
And fireflies across the moonlit straths, 
They hie for eggs to the crazy loft, 
Then speed away to the orchard croft, — 
Forever going, and never still. 
Except when sleep overcomes the will. 
Beautiful feet! 

Beautiful feet, they are useful, too ; 
They brush from the grass the morning dew. 
As they trip along with the shining pail, 
To the bubbling spring in the rocky dale.— 
They follow the kine at close of day 
Thro' the dell where the twilight shadows play ,■ 
Behind the plow they cheerfully plod 
To turn the beautiful valley sod. 



92 

And while is resting the weary team, 
The boy is dreaming a boyish dream.— 
He measures his track, 0, wonderful plan ! 
To see how soon he will be a mau. 
Beautiful feet ! 

Beautiful feet, a tramp is heard, 
The larger feet are booted and spurred ; — 
Oh ! with heedless steps they crush the flowers 
That blossom around life's mystical bowers, 
And they urge the steed to a reckless pace 
As they spur him along in a fearful chasr ; — 
But softly now, they again press the land, 
The man gazes over a prospect grand — 
Two w^ays are stretching across the plains, 
He is counting the losses and summing the gains, 
The one way is filled with the popular crowd 
Who pray to their gods in voices loud. 
Oh ! beautiful feet. 

Beautiful feet, uncover the head, 
He has chosen the narrower path instead, 
Without a thought of self-profit or fame, 
He pledges to work in humanity's name, 
Obeying no law of cold dogmas or creeds, 
But, bearing a message that pities man's needs, 
He raises the fallen, he cheers the lone heart. 
Of toilings and hardships bearing his pari — 



93 

With hand pointing upward, with eye on the trail, 
His watchword of courage is, "Never say fail." 
His voav is to help when the weary are weak, 
For love, truth and justice ever to speak. 
Beautiful feet. 

Beautiful feet, they are tottering now,— 
The locks lie white on the wrinkled brow, 
The eye is dim and the cheek is pale, 
The feet are nearing the cypress vale — 
They have trod the fens and the mountain pass, 
Life's upland glades and the wild morass, 
They were sometimes weary and sometimes strong, 
For the way was rough, and the journey long; 
But they are nearing that happy shore 
Where loved ones meet to part no more. 
0, angel kind, the footsteps guide 
To the Spirit Home on the other side. 
Beautiful feet. 



OLD TOM. 



YTtHOU art sitting in the sun, Old Tom, 
'2J® ^Yhile children round thee play ; 
Thou art leaning on thy staff, Old Tom, 
Thy thoughts are far away. 

Call up thy memory, Old Tom, 

And talk awhile with me; 
Talk of thy childhood's home, old Tom, 

So far beyond the sea. 

"When I was but a boy, Dear Miss, 

Full four score years ago, 
1 lived in Afric's sunny clime, 

Where shining rivers flow. 

"My father was a chieftain bold, 

And very fond of me; 
T had a mother whom I loved, 

And little sisters three. 



05 

"One day I built a tiny boat, 

Then launched it on the river, 
And clapped ray hands in great delight 

To see it dance and quiver, 

"Just then a larger boat than mine 

Came flying o'er the wave; 
I ran and screamed, 'The white men come, 

0, save me, father, save!' 

"My father heard my fearful cry, 

Then sped along the shore. 
The white men had me in their grasp, 

1 never saw him more. 

"They put me in a dreadful place, 

With many, many others; 
Some boys like me, some hardy men, 

And some were nursing mothers. 

"They chained together two and tw T o, 

To bring us o'er the waters. 
My childish arm w r as chained to one 

Of Afric's prince's daughters. 

Some clanked their fetters, shrieked aloud, 

While some did wildly rave; 
Some, victims of a mad despair, 

Soon found an ocean grave. 



9(5 

"Thus many painful, weary weeks 

We rode the tossing main ; 
how I longed for friends and home 

I ne'er should see again. 

"One morn we anchored in a bay, 

Quite near a verdant shore; 
'Twas Sunday— and the church bells rang 

The placid waters o'er. 

"We landed where, upon a tower, 

We saw a banner wave; 
Next day, beneath its stars and stripes 

They sold me for a slave." 

W T hat is thy recompense, Old Tom, 

For early friends aud home? 
For seventy years of slavery, Tom, 

And for a foreign tomb? 

He gazed out on the shining sea, 
The tears bedewed each cheek ; 

He sat a unique picture there. 
Looking so sad and meek 

Two moons went by, and poor old Tom 

By gentle hands was laid 
To slumber in a quiet spot 

Just in the cedar's shad<\ 



PERCHANCE 



SIRECTLY as increase the squares 
That mark each falling .year. 
Our childhood's heaven upward bears, 
And farther in the distance wears, 
To leave us doubting here. 

Perchance across the boundless seas 

Upon some happy morn, 
A whisper from the Upland Leas 
Is borne along the passing breeze 

A moment, then is gone. 

And sometimes, when the storms are still 

We hear a sacred air, 
The tinklings of a silver bell 
That bid the holier feelings swell, 

And call the soul to prayer. 



THE SOLDIER. 



TT7HE trumpets were sounding 
^J- 9 A nation's reveille, 
The war steeds were bounding, 
And cries of "Assail ye " 
Were ringing wide over the land. 

The banners were flying 
In triumph and gladness: 

The groans of the dying 
Arose in their sadness, 
Amid the hoarse tones of command 

High up in the mountains, 

All nature was smiling. 
The trill of the fountains 
Like music beguiling, 
Told only of rest and of peace. 



99 

The birds in their joyance 
Made love to each other, 

As if pain and annoyance, 
Vexation and bother, 
Henceforth and forever would cease. 

A cot there, vine-covered, 
In beai^y was standing, 

And near thadoor hovered 
A figure commanding, * 
Bedecked in its martial array. 

With flushed cheek and eye dim 
He gazed on his mother ; 

His father was by him, 
His sister and brother, 
For the soldier was going away. 

His country was calling 

For freemen devoted ; 
His comrades were falling, 

Like strong oaks uprooted, 
Borne down by the wraith of the storm. 

The farewells were ended, 
The grave admonitions 
Most kindly were blended 
With earnest tuitions, 
And gone was the dearly loved form . 

L«rc. 



100 

The laugh of the fountains, 
The birds, in their gladness. 

Made mirth in the mountains. 
But great was the sadness, 
Around that now desolate hearth. 

Xo more shall their first-born 

At nightfall be coming, 
Tho' it seemed he had just gone. 
The tune he was humming 
Had scarce died away down the path. 

He left them at morning 

To join in the battle; 
The morrow's bright dawning 

Was waked by War's rattle 
That made crimson rivers to flow. 

The loud cannon thundered 
O'er streamlet and valley, 
While life-ties were sundered 
'Mid shouts of 'Boys, rally, 
We are pressed by the fast coming foe. 

Oh ! the Blue and the Gray 
Fought each other terribly. 

All joined in the fray, 
Wounding most horribly— 
Kinsman met kinsman with death. 



101 

Yes, the Blue aud the Gray 

Fell over each other, 
On that dreadful day 

When brother on brother 
Was struggling and gasping for breath 

On the bloody turf lying, 

Alone— unattended, 
Our soldier was dying : 

As daylight descended 
I Fe fell to his last solemn sleep. 

The pale silver Hesper 
His features was scanning, 

The breezes of Vesper 
His calm brow were fanning, 
But none bent above him to weep. 

His deeds are all fameless ; 

Uncoffined he sleepeth ; 
A grave low and nameless 
His loved form now keepeth, 
Hard by the Potomac's dark surge. 

The voice of the billow r s, 
As they sweep to the ocean, 

The sigh of the willows 
In tremulous motion, 
\ow chant his funereal dirge 



102 

heart-broken motber, 

And sister so cherished, 
father and brother, 

Our soldier has perished. 
Gone down without hate in his breast 

Xo startling reveille 

Will evermore greet him ; 
Xo cries of "assail ye'* 
Will evermore meet him. 
He is folded to Infinite Rest. 

The Blue and the Gray, — 

How tender the thought- 
Each felt on that day 

For the Right he had fought. 
Each one acted manly and true. 

Then scatter sweet flowers 
On each soldier's grave: 

The sunshine and showers 
Alike freshen and lave 
The mounds of the Grav and the Blue 



THE DYING WIFE. 

§F you have loved me fondly and deep, 
Close my pale eyelids to their last sleeep. 

Lay back the tresses from my damp brow. 
Tenderly, fondly, Death weds me now. 

Fold my chill fingers on my still breast, 

No more shall heartaches break my calm rest. 

In my loved forest make me a grave, 
Where the green branches solemnly wave; 

Where the bright songsters playfully flit, 
Singing their love tunes in merriest fit, 

Lay me down gently in my low bed. 
Planb the white daisy over my head. 

Turn to life's duties, cheerful and brave, 
Patient and trusting, labor to save. 

Come at the Vespers, leaving your cares, 
And twine my name softly into your prayers, 



LINNIE. 



UR little one, the lather said, 
" Ne'er baby was so fair/' 
And sometimes with a manly pride 

He smoothed her golden hair, 
And gazed into her pensive eyes 

Of such cerulean blue, 
Pressing to his the ripe, moist lips, 
As sweet as mountain dew. 

The months went by, the passing year 
m Was sinking to its rest, 
But lingered with us till I clasped 

Sweet Arthur to my breast ; 
She called him ''Puss," the "wee feet" kissed. 

Then brought each precious toy 
And laid it on the snowy bed, 

Beside the stranger boy. 



105 

The winter fled, spriDg walked the earth, 

The summer brought its cares, 
And through the sultry days we toiled 

Till Vesper brought its prayers. 
Through weary hours how womanlike 

The two-years woman stood, 
Minding her baby brother's ways, 

And " helped ma" all she could. 

September came, an angel strayed 

Bearing a crystal cup ; 
He smiled to see the dying flowers, 

Then gathered fragrance up, 
And wandering by that Eden spot 

He saw the gentle child, 
Baptized her with his garnered store, 

Looked on her face and smiled. 

She folded up her little hands 

And closed her love-lit eyes, 
Then quietly she gave her breath 

Just as a lily dies ; 
As sunlight from the morning heavens 

So passed aw r ay our pet ; 
The glory of the angel's smile 

Was waiting with her yet. 



10(3 

We shrouded up the little form, 

But Linnie was not there; 
We wreathed the myrtle and the rose 

Around the brow so fair; 
They bore the shining casket forth 

Where trees their green spray tossed, 
They placed it in the woodland grave, 

But Linnie was not lost. 

My life was changed, thickly around 

The deep, dark shadows lay. 
But often now at hush of eve, 

Just at the shut of day^ 
I seem 1 o see some golden curls 

Float in the rosy West, 
I know I see an infant's hand 

Beckoning me on to rest . 




MAKE WAY FOR LABOR. 

Written soon after the close of the Civil War.) 

AKE way for Labor ! "Lo, a god 
Born of the will of man" 
Is marching o'er our Southern sod ; 

Behold him in the van. 
You'll know him by bis stately tread 

And by his calm high brow — 
You'll know him by his god-like head 
And by his speech, I trow. 

You'll see him in the grand old woods 

Beneath the mossy oaks, 
To clear the honest farmers' roods 

He lends his sturdy strokes : 
From dawn behind the ploddiug team 

He ploughs the fertile loam. 
And turns the furrow from the beam 

Till Hesper lights him home; 



108 

Now casting wide the tiny seed 

Upon the mellow soil, 
He bids the millions in ther need 

To come with him and toil ; 
And, ere the summer's shining leaves 

Are tinged with brown and red, 
He binds his golden harvest sheaves 

And garners up his bread. 

Beside the dusty forge he stands 

With brawny arm and bare, 
And shapes with strong and steady hands 

Each instrument with care; 
From that dark mass of mountain ore 

He fashions out the spade ; 
While by the bellows' flaming roar 

He bends the reaper's blade. 
Above that metal, as a toy, 

His hammer high he flings, 
Then sounding loud with notes of joy 

His anvil chorus rings. 

Make way for Labor! Lo, he speeds 
With chisel, plane and square, 

To build for traffic's broader needs 
His portals wide and fair; 

He comes on every prairie side 
To rear the cot or hall. 



109 

To welcome in the rushiug tide 
And give a home to all. 

Now, turn ye to the glowing west 

And bend the listening ear,— 
What pulses thrill earth's quivering breast? 

What sound is that ye hear?* 
It is the tramp of stal worth men 

With axe and pick and spade, 
Their blows are ringing down the glen 

And echoing up the glade. 
Right soon the mighty iron horse 

Shall thunder through the vale- 
Shall charge o'er hill and moor and moss, 

Crossing the red man's trail ; 
Then earnest toilers on the plains 

And dwellers by the sea 
Will meet to interchange their gains 

And claim fraternity. 

Make way for Labor! Lo, he comes 

To you, woman, true ! 
He knows within our busy homes 

There's work for all to do ; 
And while ye toil with cheerful zeal 

To stitch the needed seam 



* Texas Pacific R. R. 



110 

He'll ply the cards, the wheel, the reel, 

To fill the weaver's beam : 
Dear lady, do not fear to clasp 

His hand, so hard and kind, 
There's health and vigor in the grasp 

To body and to mind ; 
And, lady, thou may'st laurels win, — 

Bright thoughts may have their birth 
Amid the kitchen's bustling din 

Or by the parlor hearth. 

And thus he brings me to the end 

Of this my simple rhyme, 
And thus I'm sure he'll be my friend 

Through all life's coming time. 
Labor, rest a moment now — 

A wreath to thee I bring ; 
Stoop to me, 1 will deck thy brow, 

My Monarch and my King. 



SING TO ME 



INE eves are hot with burning tears, 
Sad memories o'er me roll, 
For shadows from the bygone years 
Are sweeping through my soul. 

0. sing to me some soothing song- 
Some song to lull this pain, 

And lay the spectral shapes that throng 
This fevered, aching brain. 

Yes, sing to me some favorite air 
And still the sounds within,— 

Sing with thine accents rich and rare, 
And hush the fearful din. 

Sing not of friends, 'twill make me sad, 
For some have proved untrue, 

And some whose clear faith made them glad 
Have passed Death's waters through. 



112 

The one who loved me in ruy youth 

Has early gone to rest. 
She loved me with a mother's truth; 

I smile that she is blest. 

He w^ho in manhood's golden prime 

Sang to me of his love 
Went in the glorious Autumn time 

To sing his songs above. 

I do not shed these tears for him, 
Though now I walk alone: 

He's safe beyond the river's brim, 
He knows the " Great Unknown." 

But there is one for whom I weep- 
Dear James, so good and brave: 

Tears for thy memory I keep, 
Tears for thy early grave. 

0. why should one with generous hand, 

With soul so kindly free, 
Who walked the shores of every land 

And lived upon the sea, 

Come home to seek his native halls 
And have his mind give way. 

To die within those narrow walls 
Bereft of Reason's rav ? 



113 

0, Heavens! that one so proud and high. 

One whom we loved so well ! 
Should lay him down at last to die 

Within a maniac's cell. 

Press with your hands my throbbing brow 
I hear him clank his chains — 

I hear him call " My Julia" now 
In tender, mournful strains. 

Sing, sing to me and drown his voice, 

Sing of the hills and trees : 
Or if these themes suit not thy choice, 

Sing of hiH own blue seas. 




THE TWO VOYAGERS. 

AN ALLEGORY. 



PRELUDE. 

7T N aged man, one summer's day, 
/^L Stood by the sounding sea ; 
Toe white-eapped breakers in their play 
Were sporting o'er the sunuy bay. 
Yet very sad was he. 

Time's mystic touch upon his brow 

Had plowed the furrows deep; 
His eye, once bright, was faded now, 
His hair was like the virgin snow 
On Himalaya's steep. 

Two noble youths stood by his side— 

His only earthly joys — 
And he had sought the ocean's tide 
To launch upon its bosom wide 

The barks of these two boys. 



115 
FIRST VOYAGER. 

The one was gay — his raven hair, 

Black as the robes of night, 
Was fluttering on the breezy air 
Around a forehead high and fair 

As Parian marble quite. 

The fiery glancing of his eye 

Bespoke a fiery soul ; 
Like meteor flashing through the sky 
His thoughts were flashing proud and high, 

Impatient of control. 

" My noble boys/' the old man cried, 

" Your boats are on the shore, 
And you, the objects of my pride, 
Must leave your native mountain side 
To sail life's waters o'er." 

" Here's chart and compass, guard them well. 

They'll guide you o'er the deep, 
Across the raging billows swell — 
By flowery isles were sirens dwell 

And sing the soul to sleep.'' 

"I need them not to point my path," 

Said he of fiery blood ; 
" While sitting by our cottage hearth 
I've longed to try the ocean's wrath 

And ride the angry flood." 



116 

" I've longed to hear the mermaid's song*, 

To know their witching wiles, 
To see them pass in merry throng- 
As my gay barge shall float along 
The borders of their isles." 

And saying thus he launched his bark 

Upon the sounding sea ; 
It skimmed the wave as meadow lark 
Upiising from the sedges dark, 

Skims o'er the verdant lea. 

With pennon broad and streamers gay 

The dancing prow was decked ; 
With twining wreath of silvery spray, 
With golden star of radiant ray, 
The silken sail was flecked. 

The barge shot o'er the depths of blue 

Right merrily, in sooth ; 
Bright islets rose to meet the view, 
And brilliant birds of gorgeous hue 

Sang to the happy youth. 

Sometimes, in shelter of those isles, 

With all his sail unloosed, 
He listened to the sea nymphs wiles, 
And flattered by the sirens' smiles 

He in their harbors cruised. 



117 

And sometimes near the maelstrom's whirl, 

When in a daring mood, 
He sailed around in giddying twirl, 
Until the white wave's rapid curl 

Would almost chill his blood. 

Then with a skillful, well trained hand, 

He turned his vessel's prow, 
And made toward some outstretched land, 
Where, idly anchoring near the strand, 

He rested on the bow. 

One sultry morn the heavens were rent 

Above the poor boy's head, 
The bellowing winds their fury spent, 
The thunders, too, their terrors lent, 

To fill his soul with dread. 

Fast driven out to seas unknown, 

He felt his frail boat tossed ; 
II is rudder and his helm were gone ; 
The storm came bearing fiercely on, 

He knew that he was lost. 

And thicker grew the midday gloom, 
And wilder screamed the blast; 

Yet louder grew the thunder's boom ; 

The boat went hurrying to its doom, 
As whirlwind rushes past. 



118 

And ere the sunset's golden glow 

Shone o'er that lone, lone wave. 
The gay, proud boy lay far below 
Among the rocks, where corals grow 
Within his ocean grave. 



SECOND VOYAGER. 

The other fair — his locks of gold 

Fell o'er his roseate cheek ; 
His forehead, too, was high and bold, 
His features cast in thoughtful mold, 

His blue eyes soft and meek. 

Compass and chart the old man gave, 

He pressed them to his breast; 
He knew they might his frail boat save, 
When midnight storm should rock the wave, 
And lift the breaker's crest ! 

He kissed his father's trembling hand, 

The warm tears gushing free; 
His youthful heart could understand 
That he must leave his childhood's land, 

And bravely put to sea. 



119 

"Dear father, bless," the fair boy cried, 

"And wish with me once more, 
That angel hands my boat may guide 
Across the stormy, tossing tide. 
To the Eternal shore." 

Then on the ever restless main 

He launched his shallop light : 
It sped along the liquid plain, 
The glittering spray, like jeweled rain. 
Rose round it, soft and white. 

No streamers gay, no pennons fair 

Bedecked the slender mast ; 
One snowy sail was outspread there, 
To catch the breezy morning air, 
As on the shallop passed. 

0, many, many a weary day 

That brave boy's light canoe 
Kept ever on its steady way, 
By emerald isle and azure bay, 
By eddying whirlpool, too. 

And many a time the sun went down 

Upon those seas so lone; 
While night put on her darkest frown, 
Without one star to gem her crow r n, 

Or deck her sable zone. 



120 

Still on and on, by day and night, 
That boat swept o'er the seas, 

With sail unreefed and gleaming white, 

With every inch of canvas tight, 
It strained before the breeze. 

One fearful night the wind screamed loud 

Above the crested wave ; 
The lightning from a lurid cloud 
Enwrapped the boy as funeral shroud 

Enwraps one for the grave. 

On, on, — and by the levin's flash 
The brave boy read his chart; 

He heard tumultous thunders crash. 

He saw the angr3' billows dash, 
But he was strong of heart. 

Down came the pelting midnight storm. 

His boat to overwhelm ; 
When lo ! there gleamed a beacon warm, 

And lo ! there stood a shining form, 

An angel took the helm. 

Through all the terrors of that night, 

Through* all the mad, wild roar, 
That shining form with angel might 
Steered toward the glowing beacon bright, 
Steered for the radiant shore! 



121 

And when the rosy hand of dawn 

Unlocked the gates of day, 
The tempest and the clouds were gone, 
The everlasting purple morn 

Revealed a peaceful bay. 

The boat skimmed o'er the calm bay's breast 

Before the gentle breeze ; 
The boy could see the Land of Rest, 
Could see the lovely mountain's crest, 

Adorned with verdant trees. 

And ere the city's silver bell 

Chimed o'er those shores so fair, 
That pinnace frail was anchored well 
Beyond the moaning ocean's swell, 
. Beyond the world of care. 



THE CHRISTMAS TIME. 



GAIN has come the Christinas time, 
Again the bells their music peal, 
We list to hear their deep notes steal 
O'er grove and field in merry chime. 

The churches filled with mellow light, 
And garnitured with evergreen, 
Send forth their floods of Christmas shee* 

To glorify the Christmas night. 

The Christmas log burns on the hearth, 
The boards are heaped with Christmas cheer, 
And friends who hold each other dear 

Are gathering in social mirth. 

Skipping around the Christmas tree, 
The merry children clap their hands, 
While parents backward count their sands. 

And muse upon their Christmas glee. 



123 

Let's not forget the needy homes, 
But bless the little children there, 
Let's give them joy and comfort rare, 

As sweet as dwell "neath palace domes. 

Let's think of those who sadly err, 
And if there's 'mid the city's din 
Some men and women steeped in sin, 

May tender pity for them stir. 

O, may the blessed Christmas chimes 
Remind them of the years agone 
Bre truth and purity had flown, 

Ere they had scarred their lives with crimes. 

While listening to the sweet refrain, 
May they resolve from sin to cease, 
May GOOD WILL angels whisper "PEACE" 

And bear them company again. 



$*> 



(Companion @obms, 



SPARKLING WINE. 

f PARK LING wine, how rich thy flow ! 
Now let me read in thy ruby glow, 
While a sadoess o'er my spirit steals, 
The visions thy beautiful dye reveals. 
I see in thy depths a festive throng, 
And I hear the notes of a merry song; 
I see a beautiful lady stand 
To pour the wine, with a jeweled hand, 
For a tall, dark man with flashing eye, 
Who bows and drains the goblet dry, 
Then leads her forth to talk of love 
While the wistful stars keep watch above. 
Oh! sparkling wine! 



Sparkling wine, I see the bride, 

She smiles in joy by her husband's side : 



125 

He guides her through their brilliant rooms, 
Where the flowers bloom and the fountain hums 
Friends gather around the festal board, 
The red wine flows and the blood is stirred . 
Life's golden sands are rolling on — 
To the happy sire a son is born ; 
He fondles the babe with manly joy, 
And drinks to the health of his charming boy ; 
The mother beholds with anxious eye 
And turns from her darling to hide the sigh. 
Oh! sparkling wine! 

Sparkling wine, the years pass on, 
The smile from the lady's face is gone ; 
In its stead I see a world of care, 
And I hear the tones of an anguished prayer 
As she listens beside the midnight grate 
For the step of him who comes so late ; — 
I see by the flickering taper's gloom, 
The Spirit of Want pervades the room ; — 
But, hush ! he comes from his midnight lair, 
I hear him climbing the narrow stair, 
He brings the stench of the wine-mad crowd, 
He curses the watcher in sorrow bowed. 
Oh ! sparkling wine ! 

Sparkling wine, time speeds its flight, 
And the wistful stars look down to-night 



186 

On a boy who treads the stormy street, 
With crownless hat and purple feet ; — 
Heaven pity the lad,— he is bending low 
And grappling that seeming mass of snow, 
He sees by the lamplight's fitful glare 
His father's frozen eyeballs stare ! 
His childish hands are with terror staid, 
He shrieks aloud for the watchman's aid ; 
They bear the form to its garret bed. 
Ye dregs of wine! we are with the dead. 
Oh ! sparkling wine! 

CRYSTAL WATER. 

fSf RYSTAL water, thy glinting beams 
w Bring to my vision most beautiful dreams ; 
I wander away from womanhood's strand 
And enter once more fair childhood's land. 
I see two children again afloat 
On the silvery lake in a rustic boat. 
I see the boy with his insect bribe 
As he deftly catches the finny tribe : 
I see the sister with movements fleet, 
As she gathers the water lilies sweet; 
A lily cup in the flood she dips, 
To bear to her brother's thirsty lips, 
Pure, crystal water ! 



127 

Crystal water, the April showers 
Are making to bud the woodland bowers, 
The emerald leaf on bush and tree 
Again in the forest glades I see ; 
The birds send forth from their tiny throats 
A merry chorus of sylvan notes, 
And gaily fly to the streamlet's side 
To dip their wings in the sparkling tide; 
But the springs slip by, with their smiles and tears, 
And I stand again in the larger years, 
Life's wintry clouds hang heavy and low ; — 
Blest thought, "as wool is given the snow.*' 
Dear crystal water ! 

Crystal water, the summer rains 
Have fallen alike on hills and plains ; 
The autumn comes with its golden stores, 
The farmer widens his threshing floors, 
The boys drive in the faithful teams, 
They pile the sheaves to the upper beams. 
And now the voice of the garrulous flail 
Is proudly telling along the vale, 
"Enough, enough for the winter's cheer, 
Thanks, thanks, for the plentiful rain this year;'' 
While the daughter trips from the well curb's brink, 
With a cooling draught for the men to drink. , 
Sweet, crystal water ! 



128 

Crystal water, in drops of dew, 

Our love for nature is born anew ; 

The beautiful flowers, those "smiles of God," 

Last night lay thirsting on the sod; 

The heavens distilled their limpid freight; 

This morn I see by my garden gate 

The bluebell and the moss rose dressed 

In jewels fit for a monarch's crest ; 

I see from the shining dewdrop\s wealth 

My flowers have drank their own sweet health ; 

While the pansies nod in modest glee 

Across the gay anemone. 

Fresh, crystal water ! 

Crystal water, heaven's own hue 
Is reflected from thy depths so blue ; 
I see beyond that mirrored star 
The pearly gates of Heaven ajar; 
I gaze and I see the glorious gleam 
Of vernal meads and winding stream, 
I catch a glimpse of shimmering founts, 
Of peaceful vales and flowery mounts. 
Of white-robed hosts all free from sin, 
Who to those realms are passing in, 
While an angel says, in accents clear, 
"Only the pure can enter here." 
Clean, crystal water! 



TO HINNIE flASON. 



OW I love thee, Minnie MasoD, 
Love thy bright and witching eyes. 
Love thee as I love few others 

"Neath the arching azure skies ; 
Full of life and girlish pleasure, 

As the birds of air are free. 
Playing on me pranks of mischief 
In thy overflowing glee. 



Yes, I love thee, Minnie Mason, 

In thy tasks so neat and fleet. 
Wondering if there is another 

In this world like thee so sweet ; 
And I watch thee as thou walkest 

Out among the rich and poor, 
See thee smile on those most kindly 

Who the most of grief endure. 



130 

Oft I see thee, Minnie Mason, 

Giving help to tottering age, 
Hear thee teach the little children 

Lessons true from Reason's page; 
Hear thee softly ask the erring 

If from all their bitter strife 
They will turn with firm endeavor 

To the better paths of life. 

This is why, dear Minnie Mason, 

I so love thy witching eyes 
That look out with tender goodness 

Upon all beneath the skies ; 
Full of sympathy and pity 

For the wearied ones of earth, 
Crave I purest blessing on thee, 

While I love thee for thy worth. 




ft\ 



WAR PICTURES. 

Dedicated to the War Makers. 

H ! no, iny gay and gallant friend, 
I cannot dance to-night ; 
Let not these words thy heart offend, 
I cannot break my plight. 

But come with me, aside I'll throw 

The veil of sight and sound 
That in great pity for our woe 

Is kindly flung around. 

Come walk with me the outer world, 

That world so full of dread, 
Where the grim Fiend of War has hurled 

The dying and the dead. 

Look yonder on that battle field 
Where Death has set his seal,— 

Above the cold, unburied slain 
The carrion vultures wheel. 



138 

There lies a man in blood-stained shroud,- 

Look on his clotted hair 
That shades his pale, fair forehead proud,- 

The worms are creeping there! 

And here is one who bore his part 

Right loftily and high ; 
A wolf is gnawing at his heart! 

A raven pecks his eve ! 

Behold that slimy, fetid shore! 

Hark to that rushing flood ! 
Step not upon that crimson gore, 

Cross not those waves of blood ! 

Bui see, beyond, another stream, 

And on the hither side 
Inverted torches with their gleam 

Light up the somber tide. 

A boatman hurries to and fro, 

And ever fills his bark ; 
We cannot see them where they go, 

The night hangs low and dark. 

Now turn from this and list the moans 

That come upon the gale. 
Oh, hear those piercing treble tones ! 

They are the widow's wail. 



133 

And other piping tones I hear, 
How sad that this should be ! 

The little children, in their fear, 
Sob at their mother's knee. 

The spirit of the gale now sweeps 

A tender, minor chord,— 
A gentle maiden softly weeps 

For one whom she adored. 

And hush ! the breeze now bears along 

A diapason swell ; 
You never heard so sad a song, 

It's anguish none can telJ. 

A thousand gray -haired parents weep ; 

Their tears pour down like rain 
For those who sleep the heavy sleep 

That ne'er shall break again. 

Now striking in the octave grand 

Of deep and solemn bass, 
Hark to the patriots of the land 

In sorrow for their race ! 

Once more, there comes a fearful yell, 

A demon's on the track ! 
Famine and all the hounds of hell 

Are loosened in a pack ! 



134 

My trembling hand, let fall the veil,— 
Close up the awful seam ! . 

My feeble pen, Oh, stop the tale 
That is no poet's dream ! 

Go back, my friend, to yonder halls 
Where mirth and love sit crowned ; 

Wake up within those lighted walls 
The viol's festive sound. 

And with the giddy, smiling crowd 

Thy merry vigils keep,— 
I cannot bear their voices loud, 

I'll wait without and weep. 





THE MOUNTAIN SPRING, 



f HERE Allegheny's lofty peaks 



^jPjl" Are piled towards the arching skies 
And Nature's wild and varied forms 

In everlasting grandeur rise, 
There is a bubbling, crystal spring 

Embosomed in a fastness high, 
So very small that at one draught 

A single ox can drink it dry. 

Its melody is ever heard 

'Mid summer's drought and winter's snow, 
And many a song of love it sings 

To flowers that near its margin grow ; 
A rillet now of silvery sheen 

It hastens down the mountain side 
And winds the verdant vale below, 

Where crickets chirp and fireflies hide. 



136 

It soon helps form a river deep, 

To journey on through field and wood, 
While green trees, wrapped in virgin's bower, 

Are mirrored in its shining flood : 
Od. on it rushes, clear and bold, 

Where noble Mississippi charms, 
Now does its part to onward bear 

The products of a thousand farms. 

It lingers not, but with a bound 

It seeks the billowy ocean's breast; 
0. how unlike the tiny spring! 

'Tis now a wave with foamy crest, 
And with a never-failing strength 

'Twill ever wash the sandy shore 
While myriad stars look calmly down 

As if to list the endless roar. 

My friend, I ask, hast thou e'er seen 

Aught like the little mountain spring? 
A noble, brave, unselfish deed 

Is no light, unforgotten thing: 
Tho' small it seems, it is not lost, 

But like the spring, the rill, the river, 
It swells into a lasting wave 

Whose moral power is felt forever. 




CLAUDE'S STORY, 



PRELUDE. 

^PEAK kindly to the drunkard's child 
4*J In mercy spurn him not, 
t know by his dark eyes so wild 
That fearful is his lot. 

You cannot dream of half the strife, 

The poverty and woe, 
That meet him at the gates of life 

And pinch his features so. 



See how he stands, in posture meek, 
His purple feet quite bare, 

The tear drops on his sunken cheek, 
The sleet upon his hair. 



138 

Oh, speak a kind and pleasant word 
When ere you pass him by ; 

A gentle tone has often stirred 
The soul to purpose high. 

And show him tho' his life may be 

Of every joy bereft, 
That on his dark and stormy sea 

There are some sunbeams left. 



THE STORY. 

My early boyhood's happy days 

I can remember well, 
Ere sorrows lay along life's ways 

Or shadows round me fell. 

I recollect my father, now, 
His bearing proud and high, 

The lofty aspect of his brow, 
The sparkle of his eye. 

When'er he- held me on his arm 
Against his breast so broad, 

I felt secure from every harm 
And watched his every nod. 



139 

My mother— would that I could paint 

The beauties of her face — 
My simple words are all too faint 

Her lineaments to trace. 

Oh, never were such wond'rous eyes 

To other mortal given, 
With color like to sapphire skies, 

They seemed a thought of heaven ! 

When childMi troubles 'round me pressed 

I sought their loving glance, 
While on my heart a peace would rest 

As blissful as a trance. 

Her hair, as black as starless night 

Upon the distant sea, 
Fell 'round her shoulders, fair and white, 

Like shining drapery. 

Her figure in its sylph-like grace 

W 7 as beautiful and rare, 
And with her lovelv, matchless face, 

Made sweetest picture fair. 

We had a dwelling by the sea 
Where we could hear its roar, 

And oft' my parents walked with me 
Along its shelly shore. 



140 

Or sometimes, by my father's side, 

I scaled a craggy rock 
To view the wrest'ling of the tide 

And feel the breaker's shock. 

At other times my mother's hands 
Would help me gather shells 

To build quaint houses on the sands 
'Till chimed the twilight bells. 

Oh, those were peaceful, joyous years, 
All free from woe and strife; 

I knew no real cause for tears, 
Love filled and crowned my life. 

I loved the sea-bird's startling cry, 

As o'er the waves it sped ; 
I loved to see it circling high 

Above my giddy head. 

I loved the ocean's solemn moan — 
At times it seemed so grand, 

So like some mighty leader's tone 
In royal, high command. 

I loved to hear my mother tell 

About her brother Claude, 
Who went beyond the seas to dwell 

Upon a foreign sod. 



141 

When her dear hands, at close of day, 

Ran o'er the organ keys, 
I always loved to hear her play 

"The Anthem of the Seas.'* 

I deemed such joys were mine to last; 

But, no : there came a change. 
Too soon these blessings from us passed 

For trials sad and strange. 

My father often went away, 

Leaving us much alone ; 
Somehow 1 did not mourn his stay, 

Or grieve when he was gone. 

For when he came he brought no bliss, 

But much of fear and pain, 
And for my gentle mother's peace 

I wished him gone again, 

I saw her day by day grow pale, 

The gladness leave her eye ; 
And when I asked for song or tale, 

She answered with a sigh. 

She who had been so bright and fair, 

So joyous in her life, 
Now bent beneath a weight of care— 

She was a drunkard's wife. 



142 

And I— oh, how it seared my brain !— 

I WAS A DRUNKARD'S CHILD ! 

I felt and owned the horrid stain 
In anguish fierce and wild. 

1 could not understand or know 
Why this great change should be; 

Why he who once had loved us so 
Should bring us misery. 

One morn, when summer's southern gale 
Swept o'er my still loved seas, 

1 heard an infant's feeble wail 
Borne to me on the breeze. 

Old Clara called me to the bed 

Where my pale mother lay, 
And in her softest rccents said— 

"Claude, here's your sister May." 

I saw a little, meek-eyed dove, 

My yearning heart to stir; 
But overshadowing all my love 

I felt the shame for her. 

I folded her upon my breast, 
I kissed her through my tears, 

The rosy, bird-like hands caressed 
While thinking of the years 



143 

Which lay along the dreadful road 

Between us and the tomb, 
Ere we could reach that blest abode 

Where shame could never come. 

I marveled why, in life's sad plan, 

This babe must suffer too ; 
And marveled why each stalwart man 

Could not be good and true. 

My mother said : " My darling boy, 

Life's purposes are high. 
Be brave in sorrow as in joy ; 

Rest cometh by and by. 

" Now you must be, my precious child. 

A worker by my side ; 
Trusting and hopeful, good and mild, 

Your little sister's guide." 

I turned and sought the ocean's shore 

To hear its billows roll; 
A peace I had not felt before 

Fell on my troubled soul. 

The white waves seemed to say to me, 

" A worker by my side." 
Soft voices whispered from the sea, 

" Your little sister's guide." 



144 

Yes, I could work. My childish hands 

Should labor day by day 
To do my mothers least commands, 

Her every wish obey. 

Yes, I could be my sister's guide, 
Could soothe her infant tears, 

Could lead her by my stronger side 
Up to the larger years. 

Time wore away. We left the sea 

And sought the city's din, 
Reduced to want and poverty 

By my poor father's sin. 

Our pretty, cherished household things 

.Had long ago been sold; 
My mother's necklace and her rings 

Exchanged for needed gold. 

And now in our poor tenement 
We labored from morn's light 

For wood and clothing, food and rent, 
'Till far into the night, 

The faded mother by my side 
Seemed not the one of yore ; 

If I had loved her in my pride, 
I loved her now far more. 



145 

I tried to make her burdens less, 

And helped her all I could ; 
By deed and word and kind caress 

I sought to do her good. 

Through all our darkness and dismay 
We had one sunbeam left — 

One ever bright and cheering ray 
By which our clouds were cleft. 

My little sister's loving words, 

The patter of her feet, 
Were like the voices of the birds, 

And like to music sweet. 

And when our poverty was such 
We had but one small room, 

I often felt our wealth was much 
With her to light the gloom. 

Sometimes our father's awful wrath 
Would make us quail and cower ; 

Once when I chanced to cross his path 
He struck me to the floor. 

But, oh, he knew not what he did, 

A demon filled his soul ; 
The last faint trace of man was hid 

In poison from the bowl ! 



146 

Eight years went by— eight weary years— 

We bent beneath our load. 
Our toils and pains, our griefs and fears, 

Were onlv known to God. 



J> 



CONCLUSION. 

Again beside the sounding sea 

We have our olden home; 
We hear the ocean's minstrelsy 

And see its flashing foam. 

Yes, we are here; but yet, not all— 
His erring soul has fled ! 

For him our tears will sometimes fall- 
He rests now with the dead. 

Sometimes we softly speak his name 

In memory of those days 
When he our trust and love could claim 

By all his noble ways. 

A dark, tall man now fills his place, 
His forehead high and broad, 

The stamp of goodness on his face- 
Blessings on Uncle Claude! 



147 

He came from India's sunny shore 
And took us to his breast ; 

He says he ne'er will leave us more- 
Rich blessings on him rest. 

My mother's step has grown more light, 
Her face more free from care, 

Although the silvery threads of white 
Are gleamiDg in her hair. 

The olden glance is in her eye,— 

That glance of love so pure, 
Serene as evening's sapphire sky — 

Oh, long may it endure ! 

Farewell — the golden curls of May 

Are floating in the breeze. 
She calls : I go to hear her play 

"The Anthem of the Seas." 



$*> 



FROM CHILDHOOD TO AGE 



EAR gentle child, with the .surmy brow, 
The canvas is spread and thy vessel's prow 
Is turning away from the eastern shore,— 
Thy ship is to sail life's ocean o'er ; 
The skies are bright and the pearly spray 
Is dancing and sparkling along the bay. 

I look around on the landscape green,— 
There are beautiful hills and vales between,— 
The lambkins are skipping in frolicsome glee. 
The birds are building in wall and tree, 
Sweet perfumes arise from gardens of thyme, 
The bells are swinging in musical chime. 

Tis a lovely land thou art going to leave, 
For its innocent joys thou wilt sometimes grieve; 
For the emerald glades where the violets sleep, 
On the tossing seas thou wilt sometimes weep; 



149 

As thy bark shall surge o'er the angry surf 
Thou wilt sometimes loug for the velvet turf. 

Go forth, my child, and gather the flowers, 
Go, gather the vines from the woodland bowers; 
They will wither, 'tis true, their hues will depart, 
But their scent will remain to comfort the heart ; 
It will whisper to thee of life's morning land, 
As thou bearest away to the western strand. 

The jewels of wisdom thy mother gave, 

Take in memory's casket upon the wave; 

Take thy mystic girdle of flowing length 

To gird up thy loins when thou needest strength, 

And fold ior the voyage thy garments white— 

Thou wilt need them to wear in the Isles of Light. 

My darling, farewell, time cannot be stayed, 
Thy ship is afloat — the anchor is weighed, 
The breezes are out and the billows play, 
As they bear thee from childhood to age away ; 
May thy heart be brave and thy hands be strong, 
Should the seas be rough and thy journey long. 



LITTLE HANIE 



Ty ITTLE Manie, come to me, 
J^A Sit awhile upon my knee ; 
"Little sweetheart," don't you know 
That 1 cannot let you go 
Till from childish crystal spriDg 
Waters for my thirst you bring? 
Little Manie, come to me, 
And my "little sweetheart" be. 



Little Manie, on some day, 
When to womanhood you stray. 
Some great ugly mustachedman 
Will outbid me if he can. 
And I'll bet my brightest shilling 
That you, too, will be quite willing. 
Little Manie, may he be 
Better far than 1 to thee. 



151 

Little Manie, kiss me now ; 
Kiss my cheeks and lips and brow. 
Once a little girl like you 
Her soft arms about me threw. 
On one solemn autumn day 
Darling went with Death away ; 
Little Manie, kiss my brow- 
No one calls me "mama*' now. 

Little Manie, when I go 
Where the sleeper lieth low, 
When my earthly race is run, 
All its pleasant duties done. 
Will your heart my memory hold, 
As I now your form enfold ? 
Will you love the good and true 
As I love and cherish you? 

Little Manie, when this clay 
Grumbles to its swift decay, 
If my home should be in heaven, 
If to spirits it is given 
To descend from realms above 
And watch over those they love, 
Little Manie, may I be 
Guardian spirit unto thee? 



THE SOLDIER'S BURIAL. 

A few weeks ago three American soldiers were taken prison- 
ers in the Philippines ; one, in trying to make his escape, was 
detected and shot ; his comrades were told to bury him. — 
Springfield (Mass.) Daily Republican, Feb. 2, 1900. 



IG gently, friends, with a loving hand, 
sJ The soil so far from his native land ; 
Oh, dig ye deep for your comrade brave, 
And let him have no careless grave. 

Go gather the leaves from the forest green, 
And spread them down in their living sheen ; 
Go seek the sweetest flowers that bloom 
To pillow his head in that foreign tomb. 

Then bear ye forth the stiffened clay 
In the calm, soft hour of twilight gray, 
Through the mossy aisles of the tropic shade, 
Away from the sound of the clashing blade. 



153 

Fold the pallid hands across his breast, 
As his mother did in his baby rest, 
And parting the locks, neglected now, 
Press one warm kiss on his marble brow. 

Yes, press ye a kiss lor the friends at home, 
Who look tor the one that will never come; 
And cut one curl from his chestnut hair 
To take to his well-loved maiden fair. 

Then lay him low in his leafy bed, 
With the fragrant flowers beneath his head; 
And, as the guardsman's call ye heed, 
Ask us if there for this was need ! 




SLEIGH BELLS. 



' TEAR the merry sleigh bells ring! 
b&L How they ring ! 

Every other note a rhyme, 
All in time, 

Ring, ring, ring ! 
To the gallop of the steed 
As he dashes on with speed 
Through the meadow, 
Down the hill, 
O'er the shining ice-bound rill,— 
Ching-a-ring, ching-a-ring, 

Ring, ring, ring ! 
Through the shadow 
And the sunshine 
Of the forest and the field,— 

Ring, ring, ring ! 
On the surface of the river, 



155 

Where the frost and sunbeams quiver, 
Ching-a-ring ! 
Iron hoofs their music yield 
As a chorus 
Floating o'er us— 
Ice and iron join in singing 
With their ching-a-ring and ringing, — 
Ching-a-ring, ching-a-ring, 
Ring, ring, ring ! 

How fche glinting sunbeams glimmer ! 
How they shimmer 

On the bank 
Where the bushes, tall and rank, 
Bend beneath the dazzling weight 
Of their snowy, Parian freight, — 

Ring, ring, ring ! 
See them nod in tinkling glee, 
Sheened with pearl and filagree, 

W T hile the bells 

Are sending o'er us 
Still their rich and ringing chorus, — 
Ching-a-ring, ching-a-ring, 

Ring, ring, ring ! 
In the sleigh, close side by side, 
Two young lovers share the ride,— 

Ring, ring, ring ! 



156 

Yet they hear no ching-a-ring; 
Wrapped in furs to keep them warm, 
Somehow Albert's manly arm 
Makes a ring round Ellen's waist,— 

Ring, ring, ring ! 
While the maiden's heart in haste 

Thrills, thrills, thrills 
To the music of the touch,— 

Ring, ring, ring! 
Ching-a-ring, ching-a-ring! 

" Ellen, will you be my bride, — 
Love me well whate'er betide , . , " 
PI ear the bells, — 
Ching-a-ring, ching-a-ring ! 
Ring, ring, ring ! 
No sad knells, 
Out of time, 
Mar the melody and rhyme 
Of their bliss 
As sweet Ellen answers "Yes," — 
Ching-a-ring, ching a-ring! 
Ring. ring, ring! 



15*3 



WEDDING BELLS. 



fSf HIME, chime, chime! 
w Hear the mellow rhyme 
Of the wedding bells,— 

Chime, chime, chime! 
Their merry music tells 
That the plighted pair. 
To all beholders fair, 
(For love sweet graces lends) 
In presence of their friends. 
To make their lives complete 
Will now their vow repeat, — 

Chime, chime, chime ! 
In goodness, pity, truth, 
From earliest years of youth, 
These two have lived and grown, 
Rich blessings round them strown 
Through helpful word and deed 
To all in pain and need,— 

Chime, chime, chime! 

Now, through lane and street. 
In garments fresh and neat. 
Comes the gathering crowd.— 
Chime, chime chime! 



158 

The humble and the proud 

Side by side 

In the tide,— 

Chime, chime! 

O'er the meads, 

Where pearly beads 

Deck the way, 
Come the thoughtful and the gay, — 

Chime, chime, chime! 
Come the middle-aged and old, 
Gentle maid and stripling bold, 

Keeping time 

To the rhyme 
Of the chimiDg marriage bells,— 

Chime, chime, chime ! 

To the railing's side 

Albert leads his bride; 

Then says, in manly voice, 

"Dear woman of my choice, 
Through joy and sorrow, pain and health, 
Through poverty or coming wealth, 
Through all the years that are to be, 
I will protect and share with thee — 
Soul to soul and heart to heart- 
Till Death's sceptre doth us part:" 
Chime, chime, chime ! v 



159 

With smiling lips and dewy eyes, 
Ellen makes her sweet replies : 
" Man, of all I love the best, 
Take and fold me to thy breast; 
I will ever be to thee 
All thou promisest to me, — 
Heart to heart and soul to soul, 
Till death's billows o'er us roll.'' 

Chime, chime, chime ! 
Turning now with happy pride 
Albert kisses the dear bride,— 

Chime, chime ! 
Whom pure love thus joins together 
May no troubles put asunder. 

Blessed chimes, 

Chime, chime! 

Now the people's blessing 
Falls like fond caressing 
On the loving pair, 
Crowned with beauty rare,— 

Chime, chime, chime! 
Now they know the chimes, 
The melody and rhymes 
Of two earnest lives, 
Free from social gyves, 
Chiming into one, — 
Chime, chime ! 



leo 

May all cheerful chimes 
From all peaceful climes 
Ever fill their souls, — 

Chime, chime, chime ! 
May all dismal ghouls, 
Sending from their throats 
Harsh, discordant notes, 
Their bright pathway shun,— 

Chime, chime, chime! 
May the people's blessing, 
Softly on them pressing, 
Fold them like a charm. 
May life's teaching, 
Soul ward reaching, 
Keep their pure hearts warm. 
Chime, chime, chime! 




'Wmm, 



®*mm*£$m 




n- 



LEARN THOU OF THE EAGLE. 



The eagle inhabits the loftiest crags and clefts of the mount- 
ains. When the Storm King trails his majestic cloud-banners 
over their solemn peaks, this glorious bird grandly rises above 
the tempest, and rests on its wings, far above, in the clear, 
sunny atmosphere. 



Ty EARN thou of the eagle. 
1— k Oh! storm-beaten friend. 
When the elements, mad 

With wild energy blend ; 
Let thy spirit arise 

Above the storm's scope, 
And triumphantly rest 

In the regions of hope. 

There, from its calm waiting, 
Gaze down on the clouds 

That cover the mountains 
Like dark, sombre shrouds ; 



162 

In the ambient sunshine 
With gratitude bathe 

Where no poisons gather, 
And no lightnings scathe. 

So shall thy mind's plumage 

Unruffled remain, 
Ne'er touched by the tempest, 

The hail and the rain ; 
Thy heart shall hold converse 

With all lofty things, 
And abide in that peace 

Which true purity brings. 




AGNES VON DE VERE 



N a quaint old Swedish mansion, 
Lordly in its broad expansion, 
Midnight shades were wierdly flitting 
While I, by the bedside sitting, 

Watched my Agnes Yon de Vere. 
How the hours passed, little heeding, 
From a Norse book I was reading 
Of Thor and Sif, of Loke and Sygin, 
Of the palaces of Odin, 

Where brave warriors held their cheer. 

Loud the midnight winds were blowing, 
Hoarse the midnight cocks were crowing, 
While the crumbling embers sputtered 
And the shadows mutely fluttered 

O'er the antique ceiling high. 
By the maiden, pale and sleeping, 
On I read, my watch still keeping,— 



164 

Read of Hela's dismal story. 
Of Heimdalla's dazzling glory 
In the fortress of the sky. 

Blending with the midnight noises 
Came the Baltic's dirge-like voices. 
Uttering by its heavy lashings 
And its deep-toned, distant dashings. 

Solemn minstrelsy sublime; 
From the turrets of the city, 
Like a chorus to a ditty, 
Came the w ate h man's midnight crying. 
Telling how the hours were dying- 
Dropping from the hands of Time. 

Wan and death-like Agnes slumbered, 
Like her sands were almost numbered; 
Heaviness my eyeli !s weighing. 
Outward bound my thoughts went straying 

To the regions of the dead. 
While a mournful, saddened feeling- 
Came upon my senses stealing; 
Years have passed, yet still I'm deeming 
"Twas no common fit of dreaming / 

That my fevered fancy fed. 

Sure, I saw a figure standing 

By the shadowy stairway's landing, 



1(55 

And I saw that figure enter 

Through the arching doorway's center 

To the sleeper, drawing near; 
Sure, I heard his footstep falling, 
And I heard his kindly calling, — 
As I by that bed was sitting, 
Sure, I saw his shadow flitting 

O'er ray Agnes Yon de Vere. 



i 

DEATH'S CALL. 

I will lead thee down the mountains 
By the river's turbid fountains 

To the silent land ; 
Thou no more shalt pine and languish 
On a bed of pain and anguish, 

Maiden, take my hand. 

Take my hand, tho' damp and chilling. 
Take it trustingly and willing, 

I am birt a friend ; 
In Valhalla's rainbow palace 
Thou shalt serve with golden chalice. 

Happy to attend. 



166 

Come with me, thy distant morrow 
May be fraught with crushing sorrow, 

Do not fear the cold ; 
Thou may'st mourn my proferred haven 
When some scathing, scorching levin 

Wraps thee in its fold. 

Maiden, then, take my warning ! 
Come with me, the day is dawning 

O'er the eastern main ; 
In the years to come thou 'It need me,— 
Farewell, maiden, I'll not heed thee, 

Thou shalt call in vain ! 



Thus Death's kind and mournful cadence 
Fell upon my tranced ear, 
But away from his pale radiance 
Shrank the maiden, white with fear; 
Thus his solemn call was ended 
For my Agnes Von de Vere. 

Then I heard his footstep clanging 
Borne upon the starlit air, — 
Heard the sound of marble twanging 
'Gainst the ancient, iron stair,— 



167 

Heard the hall's old armor rattle 
As if knights had met in battle 
Striking for their lady fair. 

Heard him as he crossed the portals 
Out beneath the northern sky. 
And I queried much why mortals 

Ever thus should fear to die; 
While my thoughts on this were centered. 
In the room a being entered, 

To the bedside drawing nigh. 

Tall, majestic was her bearing, 
Like some stately dame of yore, 
As her footfall, light but daring, 

Firmly pressed the muffled floor; 
Cheek and limb were duly rounded, 
Showing health and strength abounded, 

In their fullness running o'er. 

Bright her eyes and ever changing 

In expression and in hue. 

Now away their vision ranging, 

Now they seemed to look me through ; 
They were serious, yet they mocked me,- 
Glancing kindly, yet they shocked me,— 

Dark as midnight, then a blue. 



168 

On her head a garland wore she, 
Where the rose and hemlock vied ; 
In her hand a goblet bore she. 

Sparkling with a ruby tide; 
While her garments, in their motion, 
Fell like spray of golden ocean, 

Circling round her full and wide. 

Underneath her mantle shining, 
Broidered thick with green and gold, 
Was a glittering serpent twining 

Round her zone in triple fold, 
AH my soul was chilled with horror. 
Every sense was dumb with terror 

As I did the sight behold. 

Soon she stood quite near the maiden. 
Bending low her queenly head 
With its purple tresses laden 

Till they swept the snowy bed ; 
Then in hollow notes of pleasure, 
Tripping on in lightsome measure. 

To the maiden thus she said. 



169 

LIFE'S CALL. 

Leave silent lands 

To spectral bands 
In rainbow halls ideal ; 

With me depart, 

I'll warm thy heart 
And feast thee on the real. 

Yes, come with me, 

Right glad and free 
We'll climb the crested mountains ; 

We'll drink our fill 

From purling rill 
And sport us in the fountains. 

On mornings fair 

I'll lead thee where 
Dews gem the sunny valleys, 

And fragrant breeze 

From spicy trees 
Perfume the woodland alleys. 

I'll crown thee queen 

Upon the green 
And love shall kneel before thee; 

AVith blushing brows 

Thou'lt hear his vows 
Like music's witchery o'er thee. 

L 



170 

Gay birds shall sing 

As on the wing 
They sportive round thee hover; 

While thou shalt sit 

In musing fit 
Beside thy kingly lover. 

And fairies bright, 

With footsteps light, 
Shall trip from elfin bowers 

Beneath the moon 

To sing Love's tune 
And fling thee thornless flowers. 

Suddenly the vision faded, 
By the morning twilight aided 
I could see the death-like pallor 
Giving place to life-like color 

On that young and lovely face; 
And before the springtime's ending 
Rosy tints were softly blending*. — 
Blending on her cheek and glowing, 
Plainly to her loved ones showing 

That disease had left no trace 

Life for her unlocked its treasures, 
Giving to her sweetest pleasures ; 
Flowery pathways lay before her. 



171 

Fragrant breezes floated o'er her, 

She was gayest of the gay ; 
While a sad and crushing sorrow, 
From which I no rest could borrow, 
Made ray footsteps ever weary,— 
Made my journey ings ever dreary 

O'er the hill tops, lone and grey. 

Thus our roads of life were parted, 
Though in childhood w T e had started 
Hand in hand, through fields Elysian, 
To pursue the same bright vision 

Which had left my soul unblest; 
Hoping rest might come from motion, 
I had crossed the tossing ocean, 
Seeking for my w hi te-h aired mother 
And my azure eyed young brother 

Homes of quiet in the West. 

Desert sands went onward flowing, 
W T hile the years in their outgoing 
Left my heart a kindly healing 
And my soul a calm revealing 

Of life's grander harmonies; 
Fifteen times the flowers had slumbered, 
Fifteen winters had been numbered, 
But the flowers again were springing 
And the woods again were ringing 

With the wild birds' melodies. 



172 

Sunshine and the waviDg shadows 
Chased each other o'er the meadows, 
And I watched them in their flitting, 
As I sat there, idly knitting. 

On that evening still and clear; 
Watched them— but my thoughts were turning 
With a tender, longing yearning, 
To my distant, native Sweden, 
To my early girlhood's Eden, 

To my Agnes Von de Vere. 

Were the vales still bright- before her? 
Did the perfumes still float o'er her? 
Lived she yet in that quaint mansion, 
Lordly in its broad expansion, 

As she lived in former days? 
Thus I queried and I pondered 
Till the sunlight all had wandered 
From the hillsides and the meadows, 
Till the somber fire light shadows 

Mingled in a mystic maze. 

All at once I heard a rapping, 
Feeble as a sparrow's tapping, 
And I saw a figure standing 
By my outer doorway's landing- 
Saw its face was deadly white ; 



173 

Saw it wore the garb of woman, — 
Could it be that it was human ? 
Could it flesh and blood inherit, 
That thin form so like a spirit? 
And 1 trembled with affright. 

Then I said, " There is no danger, 
'Tis some sick, belated stranger 
Going to the nearest city." 
Quick arose my woman's pity 

While I dropped a silent tear. 
By this time the figure entered. 
On her face my gaze was center e 1 ; 
Memories of old were waking 
And my heart was almost breaking, — 

'Twas my Agnes Von de Vere! 

Then 1 knew some cloud had riven, 
Pouring out its seething levin, 
Drying up the springs of pleasure, 
Scorching every sacred treasure 

With its hot and withering breath ; 
And I knew the serpent shining 
Had enwrapped her with its twining, 
Knew that in its folds had perished 
Many a hope she once had cherished, 

Knew T that now she longed for death 



174 

Where had gone her former glory ? 
'Twas the same old touching story,— 
One from Southern lands had sought her, 
Gems and jewels rare had brought her, 

She had fondly loved and wed ; 
But ere seven moons had wasted, 
Ere love's sweets were scarcely tasted, 
O'er the seas there came a letter 

r 

Which unloosed the illegal fetter — 
On that night the villain fled ! 

Then she left her native Sweden, 
Left her girlhood's happy Eden, 
In her spirit's wild commotion 
She had crossed the troubled ocean 

On a foreign shore to live. 
Now, all worn and wan and jaded. 
Every feature shrunk and faded. 
Looking for no bright to-morrow 
To alleviate her sorrow. 

What had life to her to give ? 



When the flowers once more had slumbered 
And the ground with snow was cumbered, 
Peace, with lofty consecration, 
Came thro' earnest abnegation, 
Not through chilling, mystic creeds 



175 

Thus the clouds were surely rifted, 
And her soul was calmly lifted 
From its night of pain and anguish 
Never more to pine and languish 
While she toils for human needs. 

All her burdens downward flinging, 
To the good for others clinging, 
Cheerfully she meets life's duties, 
Lovingly she feels their beauties ; 

Going forth without a fear 
To the sad homes, dark and dreary, 
Giving comfort to the weary- 
Going forth with tender weeping, 
Sowing for the uplaud reaping,— 

Blessed Agnes Von de Vere. 

When she restfully is sitting, 
O'er her soul comes softly flitting 
Some ecstatic, rapturous vision, 
As from -storied fields Elysian, 

Lighting up her face so dear. 
Thro' the vision's inspiration, 
Wondrous seems the new creation 
Of a beauty higher, rarer, 
Making every feature fairer — 

Lovely Agnes Von de Vere. 



176 



FAREWELL. 

\ I / HE parting hour has come at last 
^Ji® A ad we must quit these blessed strands ; 
Must leave their glories with the Past 
And sail away to other lands. 

We've been so happy here, dear heart, 
Life seemed a joyous, mystic spell ; 

But now we sail apart— apart— 

How can we speak the word "farewell? " 

Dear love, sweet love, one parting kiss, 
One folding to your breast again,— 

One moment of seraphic bliss 

Before we launch upon the main. 

Oh ! azure skies bend o'er the seas 

On which his boat must bear away; 

Oh ! gentle, rippling, perfumed breeze 
Forever round his vessel play. 

Oh ! surging wave with battling crest — 
Oh ! stoic calm with palsied hand- 
Touch not the billowy ocean's breast 

Till he shall gain the "Promised Land." 

And when my craft the port shall win- 
Battered, dismantled by the storm- 
Dear friend, be there to hail me in, 
To fold me in love's mantle warm. 

P I N IS. 



APPENDIX. 



The following beautiful poem was inadvertently omitted 
in its proper place, but it is here inserted in justice to the 
author. Printer. 

WE'LL KISS OUR BOYS AGAIN. 

(Dedicated to the author of the poem entitled "Tired 
Mothers.") 



jftTTHE little boy I used to kiss is dead,"— 

®11® And so is mine, my sister, far away ; 
My brightest dreams of earthly bliss have fled, 

My fondest hopes have crumbled to decay. 
Across the mead, where prairie grasses wave 

And bright flowers bloom beneath a Texas sky. 
Kind strangers made with gentle hands his grave ; 

O, how I longed that I with him might lie ! 

He died in summer, when so much of life 

Could mock me with its wealth and dazzling glow 
When wood and field, and hill and dale were rife 

With all the beauties that we worshipped so. 
I wanted all things dead ; would close my eyes 

To shut the busy, teeming world from sight, 
And when the sun would gild the eastern skies, 

I wished the clay would swiftly take its flight. 



178 

When starry night her jeweled mantle flung 

Over the breast of the reposing earth, 
And southern birds their vesper chorals sung, 

My very soul grew faint from love's great dearth. 
For thirteen years the boy had been my pride,— 

His tender words, his smiles and winning ways, 
His ever blessed presence by my side 

Made spots of sunshine in my darkest days. 

His kite and hoop and ball I hid from sight, 

His boots and cap I could not bear to see ; 
The precious books we pondered o'er at night 

Were sadly closed and laid aside by me. 
The sweet, grand music that he used to play 

It smote my heart with agony to hear ; 
My boy was dead !— I turned from all away 

xVnd wandered on in anguish, dark and drear. 

I wandered on and talked with grief and doubt, 

Talked of the pain and woe we here endure, 
And questioned, when the lamp of life went out, 

If aught beyond the noisome grave were sure. 
I questioned, too, if there could be a God— 

An All Wise Father, loving, good and mild,— 
And if there were, how could He lay His rod 

So heavily upon His feeble child. 



179 

The night was long that brooded o'er my soul, 

Time's soothing touch is merciful and kind ; 
The somber clouds did from my vision roll, 

And now I see where once I stumbled blind. 
Sometimes, 'tis true, my feet are tired and sore, 

While trembling are the empty hands I raise ; 
And sometimes, too, amid life's battle roar, 

My earth dulled ear can catch no note of praise. 

But in the quiet hush of dewy eve, 

When twilight holds the western gates ajar, 
I can no longer for my darling grieve, 

Although his life is put from mine so far. 
I see my boy in garments white and pure, 

Beyond earth's taint he walks the Restful Strand. 
And I am noAV of nothing else so sure 

As meeting him beyond the sunset land. 

And tho', my friend, I ne'er your face behold, 

Tho' we may never greet on earth by sight, 
My arms of love about your form enfold,— 

A common sorrow holds us near to-night. 
A common faith, I trust, shall guide our feet 

To that bright land of everlasting joys ; 
Beyond the storms I hope that we shall meet 

Where on the other side we'll kiss our boys. 



Page 32, "lie" in next to the last line in closing 
stanza, should be "like." 

Page 75, next to the last line, "You there at- 
tain," in place of " Your shore.'' 

Page 79, third line in second stanza from the top. 
middle line, change "can" into "canst." 

Page 82, fourth line, first verse, change "clear" 
into "cleave." 

Page 87, third line from bottom, make "masked" 
read "marked." 

Page 150, fifth line in first stanza, substitute 
"childhood'' for "childish.'' 



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