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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m^thode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 • 6 ■ ' The youth, sought out the ulolMrch^a tenfr To sue for that proud aire's consent To union with the lovely maid Who was the idol of his heart ; But, heedless of the pleas he made, The stern chief told him to depart." —S«e page 10. ■ THE f FGEND OF DELAWARE VALLEY. AND OTHER POEMS. »Y MAS J, MA>.,.■;•:. . ..^-,M '-'K^S -,.1 '.'fi I ■ '' ■■ , ' ■^:';,. '>'>-'f ^;^^J> '#'H. ,*■' '...•>. .•..•^V- . «^a>». Iho. . To s\»> lilt a •' ii •>' till Mt n FS 'SHIS M?7LS 70120 Entered, according to the Act of Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hun-lred and eighty-seven, by Tiiomab J. Macmurrat, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture, at Ottawa. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred and eighty-seven, by Thomas J. Macmurrat, in the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D.C. l\. Sediation. /^ TO THE WIFE OF MY YOUTH. Cherished companion of my life^ Your love^ unchanged through changing yearSy Has e'en grown stronger in the strife. And triumphed over doubts and fears. When other faces blanched with dread. When other hearts grew sick and faint, You still pressed on, though hopes were dead, Nor paused to utter one complaint. As the lone rock for aye abides. Though beaten by the angry wave, So you have stemmed opposing tides With heart the bravest oj the brave. Your steadfast love and sympathy, Your admonition, kind and good^ Betoken inward purity And noble, queenly womanhood. Beloved, accept this book of song — This simple wreath of poesy j And may your words, so sweet and strong. Still guide, sustain and comfort me. ^^^ tejf^T' CONTENTS. Thb Lkoend of Dblawark Vallxt Rkoret 17 La Rbpubliqux 18 The Sailor's Child 21 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 24 The Old and the New - . ' . . . 26 The Poet's Sono 27 Bereft 28 Manhood 29 The Robin 30 ViVERE SAT ViNOERE 32 The First Snow 33 The Song of Home 35 Odr Fallen Heroes 36 Of the Past - - 37 Trusting 39 The Farmer's Wife - - . - • - - 41 A Dream 42 A Portrait 44 Infinite Tenderness 45 Longing 46 Earnestness ....... • • 47 VI CONTENTS. I SoNO 48 A SiMILK 60 Thi Indian's Oravi • • 61 Witnessing roB Christ 64 SoMB Day 68 At Rest - , 67 March 69 lonblinbss 80 The Lost Grave 82 The Absent 86 Sonnet to Friendship 87 The Road to Success 88 Lines on Moore 89 A Memory 71 May Sono 73 Kindness 74 The Poet 75 Envy 77 Hope 78 By the Sea 79 A Summer Night 81 Autumn Winds 83 Separation 85 The Deserted Castle 88 The Voice op Song ........ 88 Winter 89 The Legend or the Beautiful Hand • • • 91 Retrospection 93 To-Day .... 95 : M; CONTENTS. vU Rut in thi Oravk 96 Unnotioko 97 Christmas Evk 99 Thk Flkktino 108 BsrRIRNDMRNT ......... 106 Mothkr's Vacant Chair 106 Thb Bright Side 108 The Silent Soldier 109 Penitence 110 Easter Htmn Ill Greatness 112 Tired - - 114 The Fisherman 116 Duty - - . 117 Gou Understands 118 Beyond 120 The Heart's Springtime 121 The Lessons Flowers Teach 122 A War Memory 124 Life's Problem 129 When I am Dead 131 * * — «"^^^ The Legend of Delaware Valley, AND OTHER POEMS. — -••<>»>^ ^,^,,— [The superstition regarding the fatal consequences of killing a white deer is of Indian origin. The Indians believed that a white deer was sacred and possessed a charmed life. From ancient Indian times has been handed down the following interesting legend, which the pioneer settlers in the Delaware Valley solemnly related, and which is still told by credulous inhabitants of the Lackawaxen region] : I. ^AR back in dim, primeval days, As this strange Indian legend says, There dwelt upon the Delaware An Indian princess, wondrous fair ; And many of her dusky race Admired the beauty of her face, Her flowing hair, her lustrous eyes. Her mien that never knew disguise, 2 10 LEGEND OF DELA WARE VALLEY. Her voice that, like an angel's lute, Rose soft at night when birds were mute. II. Her father's tribe was brave and strong, Whose prowess was the theme of song. One in that tribe — a valiant knight. The brave in many an Indian fight- Loved the proud chieftain's only child ; And ofttimes through the forest wild The youth sought out the monarch's tent To sue for that proud sire's consent To union with the lovely maid Who was the idol of his heart ; But, heedless of the pleas he made. The stern chief told him to depart. III. More popular and brave became The Indian youth, and far his fame Went out among his noble race, And the chief's rage increased apace. The flame of env^y in him burned. For the young hero he had spurned Had won, by chivalry, a name Far prouder than the chieftain's fame. I li LEGEND OF DEL A WARE VALLEY. The tribe sang of his deeds so brave ; To him they costly presents gave ; And maids danced for him round the fire To war-songs that rose higher, higher, Till from the home of birch and oak, And from the swamp, wild echoes broke. 11 IV. At length the chief conceived a plan To rid him of the dreaded man ; So, sending for the warrior bold, The crafty Indian ruler told The youth he could the princess win If he would drive an arrow in The body of a snow-white hart. And slay it with his cruel dart, Then lay at the red monarch's feet The body of the deer so fleet. V. The Indian lover read his doom And wandered to his lonely home. For never had a marksman's art Sent arrow through a white deer's heart. But the proud chief called in once more The warrior whom he hated sore. 12 LEGEND OF DEL A WARE VALLEY. I I; i , ' \ m\ He also called the sorcerer, Whose suit the princess had just spurned. And the magician's anger burned, And he had sworn revenge on her : He placed within the lover's hand A stalk that was a magic waiid ; 'Twas silver-tipped, and long, and clear, " And none but it can pierce the deer Whose life is guarded by a charm," Spoke out the sorcerer, to harm. VI. Now the young warrior left the chief. And to his breast had come relief ; The arrow, silver-tipped, would find The snow-white deer of rarest kind ; And he would shoulder it with pride, And claim his own — his royal bride. Thus hoping, he dashed through the wood, Till by a crystal lake he stood O'erlooking Lackawaxen vale. And there he watched the hunter's trail. Tall cedars fringed the placid lake, And here the deer came out to take A cooling drink and then march back Along their old, familiar track, Through cedar brush and hemlock boughs, Then in some nook lie down and drowse. fi , MHi LEGEND OF DELAWARE VALLEY, 13 VII. When shadows of the evening fell O'er silver lake and stream and dell, The Indian lover's birch canoe Shot out from where the lilies grew. Now everything was still as death ; Nor was there in the air a breath To break the stillness so profound That reigned supremely all around. The hunter's mind was anxious now ; His eye glanced on the mountain's brow, Then at the cedar copse near by, Where shadows deepened silently. Once more the lonely hunter gazed, And now his splendid bow was raised ; A herd of deer stole from the wood And knee-deep in the water stood, And one of them was white as snow. Now leaped that arrow from its bow, And, gleaming in the twilight air, Went crashing through the white deer's hair- Ay, even through its very heart Leaped the young warrior's fatal dart. VIII. The white dter fell, its wild death-cry Reverberating far and nigh ; u LEGEND OF DELAWARE VALLEY. But while that cry resounded still About the lake and forest hill, The young brave's arras lost all their strength^ The power of speech left him at length, And o'er that lake so still and bright He drifted, drifted day and night, With parchM tongue and wasted frame. And never B,ny succor came. Nor did his sufferings abate Till death drew near and sealed his fate. Two summer moons had come and gone Ere human eye had fallen on The Indian warrior, brave and true — That skeleton in birch canoe. IX. The shooting of that fatal dart Into the sacred white deer's heart Brought to the warrior untold grief, And to the jealous Indian chief It brought calamity as great ; For when the lover met his fate, At sunset of that fatal day On which he shot his shaft away, The great chief fell upon his bed, And when they saw him he was dead. An arrow in his heart was found, And blood was oozinof from the wound. ! : LEGEND OF DELAWARE VALLEY. 16 X. The Indian princess, thus bereft Of parent and of lover, left The wigwam and sought out the lake — The silent haunt of hern and crake — Where died her lover true and brave, And in its depths she found a grave. Then in that happy Spirit-land She clasped her faithful lover's hand ; And still through forests grand they walk- He armed with bow and tomahawk ; She decked in garments of a queen, Her face lit up with smiles serene. Xt * The sorcerer, avenged at last. Now saw the tribe of stately caste — The tribe once powerful and grand, That conquered every hostile band — Weakened and crushed by sore defeat. And lying at a conqueror's feet. No more its battle-songs were sung ; No more were its bright banners flung Upon the breeze. The tribe went down. And with it fell its fair renown. 16 LEOEND OF DELAWARE VALLEY, 1 \ I 1 r i \ ' i; ! rill XII. And now old settlers softly tread The shores of White Deer Lake. They dread To make such noises as might wake The slumb'ring Spirits of the lake ; And oft they pause with bated breath To view that dismal lake of death. And folk along the Delaware Still gather in the fireside glare To hear this Indian legend told, And speak of the young warrior bold Who buried the magician's dart Into the sacred white deer's heart. I ! REQRBT. 17 O-NIGHT I chide myself, for my loved friend Has passed away from earth and sensuous life, And I am conscious that I did not lend Him aid enough in his terrestrial strife. How frequently it lay within my power To make his gloomy pathway smooth and bright. By telling him, in sorrow's lonely hour. Such words as would have given him tru« delight ! I could have been more thoughtful and more kind When he was ill, and faint, and sore distressed ; I could have comforted his heart and mind. And brought him hours of sweet content and rest. What rare benevolence I might have shown My noble friend in all those vanished years ! Alas ! too late — too long did I postpone My sacred task, and bitter are my tears. For my departed friend will not return To bless me with his sympathy again ; And on my lips regretful words now burn, While in my heart dwell loneliness and pain. 18 LA REPUBLIQUE. fa ieptrtique. Rkad on the Occasion of a Fourth of July Cslbbbation. HE nation exults in her freedom to-day, Her glorious flag proudly waves in the wind, While over the ocean and far o'er each bay, There goes forth a song from the millions combined. 'Tis the song of our Freedom the multitudes sing — The song of releasement from despotic reign ; And the triumphal notes in melody ring, Till o'er the whole land we can hear the refrain. A free, grand Republic, a hundred years old, *Tis the first on the earth in splendor and fame ; And tyrants who wrought 'mong us suff"rings untold. Have learned to respect her proud, honored name. We boast of the heroes who fought for our flag, And carried it high through the bloodiest strife. To plant it, with shouts, over turret and crag. While each of the enemy fled for his life. LA REPUBLIQUE. 1» Let us visit the graves of our soldier dead, And deck them with flowers that are sweetest and rare; For those were the heroes who fought and who bled To give us this free land, whose blessings we share. The contest has ended ; the morning has come ; Peace now sits enthroned as the queen of our realm ; No tocsin of war, no alarm of the drum. Does now our gigantic nation o'erwhelm. Here industry prospers on every side — From the North to the South, and from sea to sea ; And the shout of the millions goes far and wide : " Hurrah for the Union — the home of the free ! " Here genius and learning hold conquering sway ; Here brains, and not rank, must insure our success ; And poor, honest peasants, who toil day by day. Are never despised on account of their dress. May our motive of life be " Good-will to men " ; Our watchword be " Onward! " our motto " Reform '."^ May no angry war-cloud sweep o'er us again, To smite our fair nation with darkness and storm. 1 Ill i 20 LA REPUBLIQUE. 1 III ■I' ■ I May happiness roign in the homes of our land, And virtue adorn both the young and the old ; May treason, so foul, nevermore lift its hand To rob us of freedom more precious than gold. Hoist the stars and the stripes in Liberty's name ! Sing the song of sweet freedom with spirit and power. While every heart is with zeal all aflame. And each pulse is throbbing with joy at this hour. Come patriots all and take part in the strain That echoes in gladness o'er land and o'er sea ! To the brave, honored dead pay tribute again, And sing of a nation forever made free. I li .Jf if s \W !' THE SAILOIVS CHILD, 21 MOURNFUL wind crept o'er the hill. The sun had sunk, and birds were still, And sadly plashed the solemn sea Against the rocks below the lea. Bare was the bosom of the deep That stretched afar from rocky steep ; No white sail gleamed from out the haze, Nor moon nor star shot forth its rays. Far out upon the ocean wild A sailor dreamed of wife and child ; He saw his cottage in the trees ; He heard sweet songs and childish glees. How heaved his heart, at morn, with love ! No longer did he want to rove ; Then from his eyes tears fell like rain, — The sailor sighed for home afjain. Eight summers had his daughter seen, And to that father she had been Just as an angel pure and white — His sweet companion day and night. m 'I! 22 THE SAILOR'S CHILD. mi «'ii IP m % ti'T il'M! m 'Twas June when she was called away Into the light of endless day, To bloom within yon heavenly sphere, Far from the pain and sorrow here. For June, it ^vas a dismal night ; Portentous clouds shut out the light Of silver moon and twinkling star. And waves moaned on the harbor bar. E^'^a heard for a month and more Those waters dashing on the shore, While in her silent room she lay. Her fair form wasting fast away. Her little boat lay on the beach, Its shattered hull the waves did reach, And as it rocked with every swell, The ocean tolled its funeral knell. " Mother," she said, as death drew near, " Father's out in a gale, I fear : Do you not hear the ocean's roar ? How loud it sounds upon the shore ! " I see a white sail through the spray ; The ship comes fast into the bay ; 'Tis father dear ! let me stand Beside the sea and wave my hand ! " THE SAILOR'S CHILD. 23 Eva left as the clock struck three ; She now rests where there's no more sea ! Her grave is in the yew-tree's shade, Beneath whose boughs she often played. The sailor's ship came home at last, When autumn's glowing red was cast Upon the wooded slopes around. And leaves were covering the ground. No bounding feet the father heard. No childish voice his feelings stirred, As up the garden walk he sped ; — Eva was numbered with the dead. But ever and anon he hears A gentle voice of other years ; Nor can he hush that hauntincr tone That makes his heart more sad and lone. ♦"^ir P' 24 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. k ^twx^ ^aa^wortto f^angf^Uaw. IN MEMORIAM. -^efts-' E has gone from the land where his songs ever ring,— From the shore of Time's sea, '• From the world and from me ; He has sped to the Isles of perpetual Spring, To take part in the chant which the bright angels sing : And the Poet's sweet spirit is free. For his country he sang in the loftiest strains ; How he chanted its woes ! How he vanquished its foes When they cruelly tried to bind Freedom with chains, To inflict on the helpless the losses and pains That tyranny only bestows ! In the picturesque hamlet — in palace and hall — In the cot rude and lone, His sweet verses are known, To the rich and the lowly, the great and the small ; And the Poet is honoured and loved by them all, For that brotherly love he has shown. iii " THE OLD AND THE NEW. 25 Bard of our country ! we pause at thy tomb, To let fall one fond tear On those flowers that appear Above thy still form that inhabits the gloom ; But thy songs, like the fragrance of flow'rets in bloom, Shall delight us for many a year. Mt #M mii tbi %m. I. JHE grand old year has passed away ! Its joys have also flown ; And now, obscured by twilight gray, While round my cot the cold winds play, — I muse while all alone. There come to me, in clusters rare, Mem'ries — now bright, now sad — Of pleasant walks and faces fair. And happy hours when preying care Did flee, to make me glad. The clam'rous rill, and lonely grot, And fairy midnight scene, — These were my joy when 'twas my lot To rest where Nature's beauties dot The spot with matchless sheen. ■HHannn u iiii 26 THE OLD AND THE NEW. Iilii But, ah ! with the departed year Have gone those pleasures sweet, And down my cheek there flows a tear, For past scenes will not re-appear — Save in the mind — to greet. As flies the swallow to her nest, As dies the dream at morn, So years, obeying the behest Of nature, pass away to rest 'Mid quietude forlorn. Farewell ! thou dying year, farewell ! In splendor thou hast shone ! Adieu, past hoars ! List to the knell Of the loud-sounding chapel bell That says, " The year has gone ! " ill 1:1,!: ' iii: II. The bells now ring — with a startling din — The Old Year out and the New Year in ; And people are thronging the city street, Going to and fro on rapid feet, And everywhere there is kindly greeting, lor face to face warm friends are meeting. The bells chime out with a wild ding, dong, Filling the frosty air with a song THE POETS SONG. 27 Of welcome glad to the fair New Year That comes to us with the brightest cheer ; And now the world's great pulse is bounding, And homes with music are resounding. The bells clang out with clarion voice, And a million hearts do now rejoice, And faces are wreathed with sunny smiles In this midnight hour that so beguiles, While chapel bells are gaily ringing To festal sounds of mirth and singing. 'HEN thou hearest music stealing Near thee, to arouse thy feeling, Wilt thou then think of me ? For I sang a humble sonnet To thy heart, and quickly won it : Shall that song stay with thee ? When in distant lands thou rovest, Far apart from those thou lovest, Pray, wilt thou think of me, And recall our first fond meeting, And each blissful after greeting ? Shall my song comfort thee ? li i i i II; I lie i HP 1:1;^ 28 BEREFT. When thy friends shall speak thy praises, Bring thee flowers in costly vases, And crave thy company. Will thy heart forsooth be glowing With a love that, ever growing, Giveth its wealth to me ? IJ^^jTHERE is my little one sleeping to-night ? Who watches over h(^r bed ? What tender lullaby closed her blue eyes. After the daylight had fled ? Will she be guarded from danger and harm ? Will her eyes nevermore weep ? Tell me, tell me, ye angels above, ; i Where does my little one sleep ? What does she dream on that strange, distant shore. Where mists like a phantom play, And fair isles rest in a motionless sea That throws not a chilling spray ? O sweet be thy sleep, my departed child ! May thy dream-visions be bright ! \^\i;*\i I cannot see thy angelic face, I'm thinking of thee to-night. I '^^ MANHOOD. 29 Soon I shall pass to that beauteous shore, Whither my darling has crossed ; Soon I shall clasp to my bosom again The one that is loved and lost ; Then shall I know where she peacefully slept, And who the bright spirits were That kept nightly vigils over the couch Where rested my darling fair. pj E wise to-day. Folly drags down Its votaries to vice and shame ; But wisdom gives to man a crown Of honor and a noble name. Let justice guide thee every hour; Nor let one narrow prejudice Rob thee of moral worth and power And fill thy soul with selfishness. Be tender and affectionate In all thy intercourse with men ; Harbor no jealousy nor hate, Nor manifest a proud disdain. 30 THE ROBIN. Look up in faith to God above, In recognition of His care, And thank Him for His boundless love That comes to soothe thee everywhere. • So, having wisdom, justice, love, And simple faith in the unseen. Thou shalt in manhood's beauty move. With heavenward gaze and lofty mien. 11 ii! NE summer in the long ago, A robin daily sang to me His love-song, full of melody. That cheered my heart and soothed my 'woe. Then came December's blast so weird. Yet my wee bird flew not away, But staid to sing in winter's day, Tho* all his mates had disappeared. I fed him at my window-sill So tenderly each early morn. And pitied him : he looked forlorn. With no bird near on forest hill. THE ROBIN. 31 Each day he sang his happy song, Nor seemed to care for blinding snow, Or threat ning clouds that brooded low, Or piercing gales that swept along. Ere I arose his notes I heard Ring out upon the wintry air, And thought it strange indeed to hear That sweet song of my lone, lone bird. But one fell day my Robin flew Not down from out his leafless tree To eat the crumbs, and sing to me, And cheer my life when fierce winds blew. Beneath the oak tree by the door I found my Robin in the snow — The bird whose sweet notes charmed me so In melancholy days before. Ah! dear, dead bird ! I'll ne'er forget The winter song I heard thee sing, And those bright hours that thou didst bring ; I fancy now I hear thee yet. 0, blessed be the merry voice That in the wintry days of pain Brings to the ear some sweet, loved strain That makes the pensive heart rejoice. m^ 1 if i* lii 32 rrVERE SAT VINCERE. E need not dread the closiv^ hour, If we have grandly won the day ; Death welcomes home the chieftain brave From toil, and care, and madd'ning fray. Honors await each noble knight w Who climbs life's rugged precipice, Nor ever falters on the rocks, In terror of some dark abyss. Life's duty done and journey o'er. We can lie down at evening's close, Expectant of the honors rare That kind, indulgent heaven bestows. " To conquer is to live enough ; " Ah, yes ! And gladly would we greet The tranquil eventide of life, Were we prepared its close to meet. v But there are tears to wipe away. And we must cheer the fretted heart Id its deep loneliness and woe, Ere we would willingly depart. THE FIRS a'' SNOW, The tight 'gainst wrong has just begun, Nor would we throw our armor down Till freedom's banner was unfurled And we had won the victor's crown. Fight on, fight on, manly soul ! And though thy road be dark and rough. Ne'er falter in thy heavenward course ; " To conquer is to live enough." 33 [HE first snow falls on the frozen ground ; Gently it falleth — without a sound — On the withered leaves and faded grass ; And my heart is heavy as I pass Along the way where my feet erst trod In days when the early golden-rod Fringed the bank of the crystalline stream, And when life seemed like a summer dream. The first snow falls on my weary heart, And my first grief makes the tear-drops start ; My cherished hopes have gone to decay, As flowers of the woodland fade away 34 THE FIRST SNOW. When touched by November's chilly breath ; For now she lies in the arms of death — Yes, the one I loved so long; ajifo Is sleeping to-day beneath the snow. The first snow falls on her lonely grave That nestles where weeping willows wave ; And wintry winds, as they hasten by, Seem to sing a plaintive lullaby ; For the lovely things of earth are lost — All buried in graves of snow and frost ; And some day, how soon I do not know, I, too, shall be lying 'neath the snow. THE SONQ OF HOME. 35 SWEET strain trembles in every air, And floats o'er each crystal sea : 'Tis the song of home — oft sung in'prayer When wafted to you and me. The sire who treads on some foreign shore, Sings of home and children dear ; And his sad strains mingle with the roar Of wild waters far and near. At nightfall when the fisherman skips Over the billows that foam. There's but one am'rous song on his lips, And that is the song of home. That song is raised by peasants at eve, When the long day's work is done ; And loved ones haste the kiss to receive At the setting of the sun. Forgot are songs that merrily rang ; Hushed are the voices so sweet ; But the song of home our mothers sang. Still floats, every ear to greet. 36 OUR FALLEN HEROES. Though it draw a tear, come, raise that song Of the dear old home we love ! And when on earth we have sung it long, We'll sing of sweet home above. J[5^ RAW near to the graves of our heroes With gentle and reverent tread ; Bring flowerets — aftection's sweet tokens — And scatter them over the dead. How bright their achievements of valor ! How loyal their sentiments were ! Then bring wreaths of loveliest blossoms For heroes whom war did not spare. , Tread softly among the May grasses That over the graves gently wave ; The heroic dead are here buried — The loyal, the noble and brave. They now sweetly rest after battle ; Their long weary marches are done ; No more shall they suffer or sorrow, . . ' Or faint under heat of the sun. . ' OF THE PAST. 37 Come now with fair blossoms of May-time, And scatter them over each grave In which sleeps a soldier and hero Who died the Republic to save. I I , HOW the heart longs for the days that are past, And yearns for the loved gone before ! How often we sigh, when our sky is o'ercast, And wish for a rest and a calm that would last Thro' the years — ay, last evermore ! As mem ry flies back over each bygone year To the spot where our treasures are laid, We sigh to hear voices and songs that are dear, And the harp that poured out its harmony clear Where sweet, smiling infancy played. How delightful to hear, like an evening chime, The voices we heard long ajjo ! They come floating adown the river of Time With an echo so sweet and a tone sublime, As the sound-waves ebb and flow. t ! 38 OF THE PAST. |l ! And our fancy sees, on a strange, fairy shore, White hands that now beckon us there ; And the love-whispers, soft and sweet as of yore, Now are borne through the mists to our ears once more From that country of purer air. 0, 'tis sweet to know, when the stars fade from sight, And the roses of June decay. That memory cheers us in sorrow's drear night, And that hope sheds over our pathway its light, And foretells of a coming day. Tho' the summers go, and the violets fade. And loved ones depart to the bourn. We may live in the past, with memory's aid, And recall the bygone, with its shine and shade. And 'tis sweet, e'en if we must mourn. ! US' 11 it TRUSTING, 39 ' > irtt!Sitiu0. '/ C>=L if>gET my way be bright or gloomy ^M^ As 1 journey here, (5:=^ I can always feel contented With my Saviour near. He has promised He will guide me All along life's way ; He will show me love and pity When I faint or stray. In the bygone years I've tested His unbounded love ; Nor do I now fear to trust Him As I onward move. Shall I doubt Him, then, when sorrow Comes into my heart ? Dare I say He does not love me, When the tear-drops start. 40 TRUSTING. 0, no Other loves so fondly ! He is my best friend ; From the first He loved me, and will Love me to the end. Then I'll go into the future With a courage strong ; Though the road be rough and thorny, It will not be long. Soon the glad, refulgent morning Shall bring in the day, And the undertone of sadness Soon will die away. Then a song shall burst in gladness On my list'ning ear, And my heart, once lone and heavy, Shall be filled with cheer. THE FARMER'S WIFE. 41 ON'T give me the life of a farmer's wife, <^^ Its drudgery and its care, Its weary routine from morning till e'en, With never a moment to spare ; For who, I would ask, would covet the task, Of rising before it is day, The breakfast to get and the table to set. All to hustle the men away ! Don't talk of the breeze in the summer trees, Or the swallow's delightful song. Or places that charm on the dear old farm, Or the labor that makes one strong : For the dreary life of a farmer's wife Is never by these things blest ; No hour has she to stroll over the lea In search of a much-needed rest. Through the weary years she labors in tears, While her heart is loving and true ; "Each day is too brief,"- she remarks with grief " To accomplish all there's to do." l< i If T 42 A DREAM. So she toils with mi± AM sitting in the twilight, And I dream of long ago, When the mild voice of my mother Spoke to me so sweet and low ; I can see the home I cherish. And can hear the brooklet's song Down beside my father's orchard. Where I wandered oft and long. Vm Linger still, fond dream of childhood ; Do not vanish yet, I pray ! For the darkness creeps upon me, And my home is far away. SONO, 4ft Fancy sees the forms of dear ones That I loved in other years ; But those forms have all departed, And mine eyes are wet with tears ; O, the sadness that steals o'er me While I dream of childhood's hours, And the scenes of youth so blissful — Scenes of love, and joy, and flow'rs ! Now the old house is deserted, And the place is lone and drear, And I'll never hear the music That allured my youthful ear ; And the wrinkled hands that labored To illumine all my way. Nevermore will toil or suffer Thro' the long and weary day. ' 1 ■I MM » 111 50 A SIMILE. JHE air is chill, and autumn grieves O'er withered flowers and falling leaves ; The time has come when glories fade In garden, mead and wooded glade, And when sweet birds, that carolled long. Must aing to us a farewell song. My life is in the leaflet sear ; i The chill winds of old age I hear ; Spring's morn has fled ; the summer's gone ; My cheeks are furrowed now and wan ; No more rings out youth's mystic chime ; My life has reached the autumn time ! TffS JNDJAirS QRA VE. 51 Wxt %U\m'% (&x^xt. i Why should I be silent, When Love brought Him down That I might be given A robe and a crown ? Ashamed to confess Him Who loves even me ? Ashamed of my Saviour Who died on the tree ? I 0, no ! I will herald His greatness each day, And deem it an honor This homage to pay. WITNESSING FOR CHRIST. Should darkness o'ertake me On life's raging tide, I'll trustingly witness For Jesus, my Guide. And when I step into The river of death, His name would I mention, E'en with my last breath. Thus if I prove faithful And true to the end, I'll not be rejected By my Divine Friend. 55 1 ^i:'- • I!' 56 SOME DA Y. OME day we shall lay down the burdens of life That we have been bearing with patience for years; Some day we shall rest at the close of the strife And rejoice after all our mourning and fears. I Some day we shall enter the mansions above To commune with dear ones whom death took away ; And there in the light of our kind Father's love We shall joyously chant thro' eternal day. Some day we shall know all the mysteries deep Of that Providence oft so strangely revealed — Know why in this earth-life God called us to weep And to suffer the wounds that still are unhealed. Some day we shall wonder at Heaven's expanse, Its long, gorgeous aisles, and its throne grand and white, Its glittering hosts, and its songs that entrance ; And our eyes shall scarce bear the marvellous sight. A T REST. 57 No tears will be shed on that evergreen shore ; No sighs will break out 'rnong the glad, dazzling throng; But bliss unalloyed will reign evermore On those hills that echo with rapturous song. it iwt. EPTEMBER winds were sighing through the vale, And glowing tints bedecked the woodland fair. When one with furrowed brow and features pale Lay down to sleep ; for she was worn with care. 'Twas fitting that when earth's delightful things — The grasses, leaves and flowerets bright and gay- Were perishing, her spirit should take w^ings And fly to realms where flowers fade not away. T S\ But oh ! I had no truer friend than she — No wiser counsellor — no safer guide ! The home I loved is nothing now to me, Bereft of her in whom I could confide. 6 f!fi"»}'!!aj! fi 58 AT REST, Nor could I bear to view that lonely place ; . The sight would call up mem'ries sad and deep ; And only fancy could behold her face Or hear her song that oft soothed me to sleep. Let autumn winds wail out their sad refrain ; Let flaunting, golden flowers now fade and die ; I too must grieve amid my loss and pain ; Yet hope's lone star shines dimly in my sky. Those hands that toiled so long a,re resting now ; That gentle voice is hushed at last, at last ; The fever and the pain have left her brow ; All toil is done — all agony is past. Farewell, old home ! I'll visit thee no more ! Farewell, the haunts I loved in other years ; Farewell, thou limpid stream, upon whose shore I'played, before my eyes grew dim with tears ! MARCH. 59 parrk. 'vJJ^HE blustering March has come again — The hated month of all the train, "When bleak winds rush with mighty roar Along the lake's deserted shore. A dreaded month ! yet it will bring The glories of returning Spring, And help to place, with right good-will, The floral crown on every hill. The broken clouds pass swiftly by, In haste to clear the azure sky ; And rills, long ice-bound, now are free To leap in gladness toward the sea. Soon will the grateful scent of flowers, Wafted from aromatic bowers, Invite us to the sylvan vale. Our languid spirits to regale. The fitful blasts that sweep along Shall bear to us Spring's charming songv And biirds, that come with breezes bland, Shall warble in our northern land. Si w4 mV « %i 11 'iii ' m \\ 60 LONELINESS. Then, March, I gladly welcome thee. For thou art a true friend to me ; And though thy winds and frowns annoy. These are but harbingers of joy. , S comes a stillness to the festive halls When jocund banqueters have gone, So steals o'er me a feeling that appalls — A loneliness when day is done ; For happy scenes I knew in days of yore Come nevermore to gladden me ; The old, delightful songs I hear no more ; Hushed is the merry minstrelsy. In other years I thought the world was bright And everybody in it true ; Each day I lived was one of mirth ; each night Was filled with song that sweeter grew. Alas ! the scene has changed. The friends I loved And trusted proved untrue, unkind ; And haunts, once pleasing, where my footsteps moved, I have no more desire to find. LONELINESS. fl Alone I live. Ambition's dreams are dead ; My feet are weary on life's way ; Shut out from all the world — my hopes all tled- I but exist from day to day. My roses faded in the years long past ; Only their thorns are left with me ; And yet, despite the cares that shadows cast, My heart has one fond memory : — ^^H 'M>1 It comes like music o'er a sleeping sea And comforts like an angel's psalm ; Down through the years it floats so peacefully And fills my lonely soul with calm ; It brings before my vision once again A face observed through mists and tears, And maybe in that country, free from pain. We'll meet and love through endless years. *--:^^^* I • .J.J 62 THE LOST QRA VE. [About ten yeara ago the Detroit Fret Press comtnentod on a touching incident which occurred in that city, and which is aub- stantially as follows : — An old woman was seen wandering through the deserted graveyard on Russell Street. She had buried a child there half a century before, and in all those years she had not seen the little grave ; but her undying love for her child brought her clear back across the State alone to have a last look at the grave. She found the old yard cut up by streets, and of the hundreds of mounds and headstones which she once saw, but a score or so were left. Under the dying willows she passed along, brushing the moM from the headstones, and trying to find the stone which bore the words, "Our Willie." Her search was fruitless. She had hoped that strangers' hands might have kept the grave as when she last saw it, and she turned sadly away from the barren spot, the tears falling on her wrinkled cheek ; and when the people spoke to hei; in sympathy, she sqbbed out, " I'm afraid I can't find him in Heaven — Heaven's so large ! " This sad Incident suggested the following lines] : — HEY saw her wand'ring in a graveyard old ; They heard her sobbings in the willows' shade, And well they knew her heart desired to hold Some sweet communion with her sacred dead. Full fifty years had passed since she had seen The spot where rested Willie's lifeless form ; And yet her love, thro' every changing scene. Was as a mother's love, — unchanged and warm ! THE LOST OR A VE. 63 But she had hoped, thro' every lonely year, That grave might not be slighted or forgot, But that some passing stranger, kind and dear, Would cast on it a sweet forget-me-not. She hoped some one might scatter daisy seeds In springtime o'er her Willie's little mound, And for the absent dead do loving deeds When autumn leaves were covering the ground. Alas ! she found the old yard almost gone, For fifty years had made a cruel change. And only here and there she saw a stone. While all the scene to her was new and strange. The town had grown to be a city grand ; The sacred charms of long ago had fled Before Time's hostile and o'erpowering hand, And those who lived were crowding out the dead. But that, old mother's heart had brought her back To view that grave ere she had passed away, And shed on it affection's tear, and deck Tt gr* tly o'er with flowerets bright and gay. ^. eaning headstones, covered o'er with moss, Sh sought the grave she had not seen for years ; But after walking to and fro across The barren ^elds, she then gave way to tears. » ! i 64 THE LOST GRA VE, Ah, me ! that mother came alone so far, With burdened, anxious heart and features wan ; But f ron her sight had sunk hope's last faint star, For Willie's little grave was lost and gone ! Kind words were spoke to her by passers-by, Who saw the tears fall on her wrinkled cheek ; Her tale of woe aroused a sympathy Too strong for any human tongue to speak. And while she stood beneath the dying trees, Once more to view the fields so bleak and lone, Her sobs went out on every passing breeze, As she remembered glories that had flown. She left the scene, nor e'er returned again ; Her heart was broken with her bitter grief ; She tarried thro' a few more years of pain. Then Death's kind angel brought her sweet relief. And as she swept thro' Heaven's gates of gold Into the brightness of that glorious place, That mother's heart beat with a joy untold When her own Willie ran to her embrace. ;:Hi iiii^^ 2}i|!^|;j THE ABSENT. 65 Shi g^fcisiittt. OW lonely seems each weary day Without thy presence near ! Upon my path no cheering ray Shines throush the darkness drear. I miss thy voice so sweet and low, Thy prepossessing face, Thine eyes, whose fascinating glow Now haunts me every place. Ah, me ! We know not how to prize The sunshine and the flow'rs Till they are gone and wintry skies Frown on the faded bow'rs. We value not the robin's song Till it has closed its strain ; And then our lonely spirits long To hear that song again. K I." 66 THS ABSENT. Nor do we fully prize the friends In whom we can confide, Till our communion with them ends, And they have left our side. Back o'er the years agone we gaze, We see the loved of yore, While gentle songs of other days Float from an unknown shore. And so to-night I dream and weep ; The midnight comes apace, But brings not to my eye-lids sleep, Nor to my sight thy face. SOXNET TO FRIENDSHIP. I r m #0ttttet U |riettrtj8i&iir. ir^IFE'S journey is not very long ; ^JlLj Earth's pleasures are seldom too sweet ; (ji:=r-> So let us have laughter and song, And kind words whenever we meet. The roses sweet perfume exhale ; The sunshine sheds gladness around ; And the brooklet down in the dale Makes woodlands with music resound. The nightingale heeds not the gloom, But charmingly sings in the night, Its song waking thoughts from their tomb. And. filling the soul with delight. The face that we gaze on to-day May to-morrow be pallid and cold ; Then scatter bright smiles on the way, To gladden the young and the old. When the light of friendship is shed O'er a life embittered by pain, The sad heart that often has bled Is cheered and made hopeful again. ni: ■I 68 . THE ROAD TO SUCCESS. Wxt %uA t0 Sixittm^ Cbi .F you want to succeed in this life, (^ You must have an abundance of pluck ; There is no one can win in the strife . . By relying on what is termed " luck." Temptations must be bravely withstood ; Even poverty must be o'erthrown ; And, with purposes lofty and good, You must struggle and suffer alone. ^'' I m Be content to toil on through each year, Yielding not to one idle desire. Till the goal of j'^our hopes shall appear And your deadliest foes shall retire. Do not fancy the road to success Is bestrewn with the loveliest flowers ; All along it are thorns that distress, And the pilgrim sees few su ny hours. Every day brings the toiler some pain, While each evening brings weariness, too ; But continuous efforts bring gain To the one who finds something to do. LINES ON VISITING TOM MOORE'S COTTAGE. 69 Learn to work and to patiently wait ; Learn to calmly endure each defeat ; And sonie day you'll sit down with the great Who have won a reward doubly sweet. . SirGGESTED BT THE AuTHOR'S ViSIT TO TOM MoOBE's CoTTAOB 0:7 THE Schuylkill Eiveb. , SACRED and enchanting spot ! ^vj>-. Where now it is my happy lot To linger one brief hour and rest, And list to Nature's voices blest ; Hero, on the Schuylkill's flow'ry shore, I muse on Erin's bard, Tom Moore, Who often sang of this fair scene, Li verse so cheerful and serene. And drew an inspiration deep From stream, and wood, and blooming steep. No poet sang in sweeter strain ; Whether he wrote of joy or pain. His every verse, so rich and free, Was fraught with wondrous melody. 'J 70 LINES ON VISITING TOM MOORE'S COTTAGE. His country's harp was silent long ; But from its chords he drew a song Whose music, magical and grand, Reverberates in every land, Although the harpist sleeps in death, Nor heareth now that music's breath. I wonder not the poet loved This charming spot, and often roved. At eventide, this flow'ry bank, To watch the red sun as it sank Behind the dim and distant hill. And hear the latest song-bird's trill, And listen to the muffled oar On river's breast, or the dull roar Of the great city so near by That pulsates on unceasingly. ^ A MEMORY. m f' *VE waited long to hear his step again — Waited through weary years of grief and pain, For his familiar footfall at the door From which he vanished many years before, When the June rose exhaled its sweet perfume, And every hill was decked in gorgeous bloom. I've waited long to hear his pleasing voice, Whose welcome music made my heart rejoice ; And in the years when he was far away I ofttimes seemed to hear his blithesome lay, As when we sat beside the summer sea While evening shadows gathered o'er the lea. I've waited long to see his manly face Beam light into my lone and gloomy place, As morning's dawn dispels the shadows drear That through the long night linger everywhere. Alas ! 'tis but my fancy that can see The noble face that used to smile on m« ! u; 78 A MEMORY. My hair, once golden, is now turning gray ; My beauty and my youth have passed away ; Those hopes are blasted that I prized for years. And now I walk alone the vale of tears. With but a memory — a beauteous dream To throw athwart my path its friendly gleam. The years have sped ! And now it matters not Though that long-absent one I fondly sought Return to me no more from o'er the sea, To keep the solemn vow he made to me : He may be happy at another's side ; Or long, long years ago he may have died. ^m\ ll m 11 11 i Were I but sure he loved me even now, The cloud of sadness would desert my brow. And I could go down life's decline in peace. And all my dread anxiety would cease, If I could only know his love was true — Unchangeable as heaven's resplendent blue. Perchance 'twas best that we should meet no more In lovely bower, or by the sad sea shore ; Yet when I now recall the happy past — The golden hours of joy that could not last, Sad tears stream down my pale and faded cheek. And thoughts arise no tongue can ever speak. T A MA Y SONO. 73 Paa #ott0. ROUND me the gentle May zephyrs are playing ; They waft to me perfumes from florulent bowers ; And over the bright fields I once more am straying. While peace fills my heart thro' the long, sunny hours. The robin's sweet notes and the meadow-lark's sonnet Fill all the soft air from morning till eve ; And the shimmering sea, with the sun shining on it, Invites the gay bark its bright waters to cleave. re So weary I grew of the bleak, wintry weather — The frost and the snow that staid with us so long ! But to-day my heart is as light as a feather, As I listen to Nature's most jubilant song. The bee hums its way to the fields of sweet clover, The lambs now skip playfully over the lea, And along by the sea-shore wanders the plover, While birds build their nests in each blossoming tree. e 74 KINDNESS. How bright is the world ! and how green are the meadows ! Nor trembles a minor strain in the soft air. Can it be that over this scene will fall shadows, And that chill frosts will come to blast what is fair ? Think not of what may be! 'Twill bring only weeping! Shall birds warble gladly and we never sing ? With the brightness of May grief is not in keeping, Then sing of the pleasures a May-day can bring. ,, * ELDOM does a kindness go for naught ; Somewhere, sometime we shall see What results our kindly deeds have wrought In relieving misery. Humble was the song you sang one day To delight some listener's ear ; But you little thought your tender lay Gave fresh hope to mourners near. Simple was the loving word you said ; But that word came from the heart, And it wakened feelings that were dead, And caused tears of joy to start. THE POET. Juat a smile and nothing more • lulrr r'" ^"'""-overflowed At the look your features wore. Thus it i3 th,, ^.^^^^^^ .^ ^^ snS:rst:t::;:r::^^^- '^obehopefuf4;Er;:t?"'p-'-'-er the open pa.e From early morn till late ' i \t 76 THE POET. The years go by. Now every voice Speaks in the poet's praise ; Behold, the multitudes rejoice To hear his simple lays. For touchingly he sang their woes In verse sublime and pure ; The years roll by, yet sweeter grows The song that shall endure. t' Its melody awakens joy Within the pilgrim's breast ; And when his earthly cares annoy, It calms his wild unrest. O, white-haired bard, sing on, nor cease To quiet human fears ! Thine is the power to fill with peace The realm of pain and tears. ENVY, 77 HE world is selfish, in the main ; One rises to a fair renown By manly toil of hand or brain ; Then others try to drag him down. Envy detests the laurels bright It cannot wear, and loves to hate The victor who has reached the height Of excellence, in spite of fate. As savage wolves hunt down the deer That, panting, bounds thro' wilderness, So envy, with its with'ring sneer. Pursues the man who wins success. Some will rejoice with those who rise ; But more will look with envious eye On such as win the costly prize ; — The world is full of jealousy. O, envious man ! why strive to crush Thy brother and to blast his name ? Thou hast an equal chance to push Thyself to fortune and to famo. m m 9 i 78 HOPE. ^HROUGH life's chequered scenes we arc borne By a stern, irresistible power, While our hearts are saddened and torn With the woes that come hour after hour. When no one but God knows our fear, We lie down by tl e wayside to woep, And though we are weary with care, Our sad eyes will not close in sweet sleep. But hope ! There are joys with our woes ; Ay, the dark clouds are fringed with light ; We have friends to drive back our foes ; There is sunshine alternate with night. Though forms that we love pass away, And we oft sit alone with our tears, Yet fond mem'ries frequently stray Thro'agh the dim, lengthened vista of years. Our Father is near when we grieve, All our sorrows He soothes with His grace ; To Thee, loving Saviour, we cleave ; We can sing in the liglit of Thy face. BY THE SEA. 79 , ROLLING sea ! Thou tell'st a tale That makes my cheek grow deathly pale. Sad, lovely sea ! With thee I weep ; And on thy breast I fain would sleep. The night is chill, the wind is bleak ; Far out I hear the sea-bird shriek. My footsteps press the hardened sand That marks the bound of sea and land. Over the dim, dark wave I gazs, And think of other, happier days. I long to touch a hand so white, That vanished from me in the night, And catch the music of a voice Whose tones once made my heart rejoice. O, plaintive night-wiiid, bleak and lone, I cannot bear to hear thee moan ! 5 " m y,. ^-h 80 BY THE SEA. I I Thy sobs recall the by-gone years And melt my weary eyes to tears. loved and lost ! come back once more And greet me on this ocean shore. Speak to me, as in days gone by, Nor leave me here to sink and sigh. 1 listen, but no voice comes near From out the darkness dense and drear. The moaning of the restless sea Is all the sound that floats to me. My lonely heart cries out in vain ; The lost will ne'er come back again. Sob on, sea ! Sigh on, O wind ! Ye seem so heartless and unkind ! Nor snail I longer with you stay ; The midnight bids me haste away. But none, ever-rolling sea, Can comprehend thy mystery ! y^A A SUMMER NIGHT. 81 : n OW sinks the sun into the restless sea ; The purple glow on hill-top fades away ; Grim shadows gather softly o'er the lea, And gently closes the long summer day. If The crescent moon sails up the star-lit sky, Shedding on wave and slope her silver light ; And 'mong the tree-tops the soft breezes sigh. As if in dread of the approaching night. No longer sings the robin or the lark, Whose mellow notes were heard in sunny hours ; But nestling in the woody covert dark. They wait the light that gladdens all the bowers. Naught but the watch-dog's bark, or cricket's sok^ Or ocean's murmur, falls upon the ear, And the dull hours drag heavily along, While strange, weird shadows come mtd disappear. .^ I t f Is I t: W Mj wi nu ' i ' rt*— ifw i ^ 82 A SUMMER NIGHT. The moon-lit waves plash faintly on the shore, Where sombre cliffs lift high their tow'ring forms, So heedless of the sea's incessant roar — So firm against the oft-recurring storms. Long clouds of vapor spread their fleecy folds Athwart the lowlands robed in summer bloom, And faintly outlined are the open wolds That look like fairy-haunts amid the gloom. O'er this night-scene what solemn silence reigns ! Nor bird nor bee disturbs the dreamy air ; And drooping flowers now seem to miss the strains That joyous day diffuses everywhere. ^Ij:^-^^^'^^^:^ AUTUMN WINDS. 83 m %ViX)xvm Winds. AD autumn winds ! I hear your wail That echoes throus^h the sombre vale And speaks of days, not far away, When birds shall cease their roundelay And flowerets shall not longer shed Their fragrance o'er the hills I tread. 0, autumn winds ! Your chilling breath Shall usher in decay and death, And maple groves that now are bright Shall sigh amid the autumn blight. And meadows shall grow brown and bare And ruin meet me everywhere. %\ Chill autumn winds ! Why do ye come To rob the maple of its bloom, And take from me the thinsfs I love ? Ah roe ! the things we prize above All else are sure to fade and die, E'en though we iovft them tenderly ! 84 AUTUMN WINDS. 0, blighting winds ! Ye come to bring Death to the cheek that blushed in spring ! Life's summer o'er, the autumn blast Destroys the bloom that could not last ; Then groweth dim the tearful eye, And, like the flowers, we droop and die. Life's autumn days I will not fear ! For, as the flowers again appear When o'er the earth blow zephyrs bland, So, when I reach that fairer land, Where spring-time's sun shall evev shine, Immortal Youth will then be mine ! ^^^ms_ SEPARATION. 86 J-jpiirtttiatt. LOWLY the years creep by, Since thou art ^one ; Around me shadows lie, And I'rQ alone. A fragment of a hymn — A braid of hair — A portrait old and dim — A vacant chair. Are all that speak to me This lone midnight, Telling their tale of thee, Now out of sight. Whisper thy love once more, Nor silent be ; Send from that fadeless shore Love's blessing free. HB 86 THE DESERTED CASTLE. Come back, bright' days, long dead- Come back again ! Return, O joys that fled. And ease my pain ! But why this anxious plea ? — *Tis vain indeed ; For by fate's stern decree This heart must bleed. She §mxUik i&uWt* RIM and gray are the castle walls That overlook Mendota lake ; No sounds float thro' the stately halls Where once the merry feasters spake. 'Tis many years since life and thought Were active at this cheerless hearth ; Now all is vacancy, and naught Is seen of past, forgotten mirth. The proud escutcheon still remains A '*ove the weather-beaten door ; But from the turret belfry strains Will gladly echo nevermore. THE DESERTED CASTLE. 87 The castle's chambers once were filled With light, and love, and dazzlinjif throngs, And happy, youthful hearts were thrilled With harp's wild thrum and grand old songs. But broken are those harp -strings now ; The songs ■ ♦" yore have died away ; Nor longer glows the dancer's brow. So radiant in a by-gone day. Chill winds sweep thro' the naked rooms And sigh in lobbies dark and lone, As mourners sigh among the tombs When weeping for the dead and gone. No more will welcome voices speak Within those crumbling castle walls ; No more will festive music break The stillness of its solemn halls. 'Tis now the haunt of robbers bold. Who thread its courts when day is done, Their tales of plunder to unfold In a perfidious undertone. Then, turn aside ; no longer stay Where gloom and desolation fright; Let phantom guests glide in to play And feast within those halls to-night. \ m \i-M ■ VJ 88 THE VOICE OF SONG. nt f alf^ 0f #0tt0. ING me a song when I'm lonely — A heartfelt and soul-stirring lay ; For a tender ballad only Can comfort and never betray. Sing softly when I am weary With cares that corrode and annoy ; 'And e'en if the day be dreary, Your ballad shall fill me with joy. Sing sweetly when woe and sadness Cast o'er me their shadows so deep ; Your sonnet shall bring me gladness, And lovingly soothe me to sleep. Sing when my earthly hopes perish. And clouds of misfortune affright, And the lovely things I cherish Fade forever out of my sight. WlNTEB. And when I draw near the river Whose waters are sullen and c;id sing of that bright forever ' And the beautiful city of g„Jd ! , . ""-^ '" "le home of the blest Ce^eatjal anthems immortal ' fel>all bring to me infinite rest. 89' ^HE charming summer days are gone ClKr-ili^'— not The meadows, wherf^ m,. f * Are naked „ow::d'"c^,J7'-'^'-3'«^. -ine flowers are dearl ih^ ^•^at decked tt opTn toir^- «— I see no more the mountain stream Leap blithely down the hi^ Held fas ,„ winters icy chain.;. i^hat stream is dead and still. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 liitm |2.5 |50 ■^" Mi^ •^ 1^ 12.2 1.4 11 1.6 Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREIT WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80 (716) 873-4503 '/^ ^ ^ 90 WINTER. The maples, that in autumn days Were brifj^ht in crimson dress, Are swaying now before the blast In gloomy nakedness. To human life death's winter comes, When fairest flowers must fade ; And in the cold, relentless grave Our darling ones are laid. But as the flowerets re-appear When falls the April rain, So, in the future, we shall find The loved and lost again. THE LEGEND OF THE BEAUTIFUL HAND. 91 Site i^egentf of tint ^tmiltvA Pand. |HREE maidens once had a dispute About the beauty of their hands ; One dipped her hand into a stream, Then said, " I care not in what lands You roam, you'll find in royal line Ko hand more beautiful than mine." Another maiden quickly plucked Some fruit, until her hand was pink ; Then she remarked, " There is no hand More lovely than this one, I think ; Nor is there hand of art's design More shapely than this hand of mine." The other gathered violets Until her hands were fair as flowers. And quite as fragrant, too, as they ; Then her sweet voice rang through the bowers : " My hands, now full of violets blue, Outrival all in form and hue ! " 92 THE LEGEND OF THE BEAUTIFUL HAND. A haggard woman, passing by, Paused when she reached the maidens fair, And in a trembling voice she said : " I am so poor and worn with care ! Who will have pity now on me ? Who will show Christian charity ? " All three denied the beggar's suit ; But there was one who sat near by, Unwashed in stream, unstained with fruit. Untouched by flowerets* fragrancy. And she had pity on the poor. And gave her from her little store. The beggar there and then inquired As to the subject of debate, And the three maidens showed their hands. And asked the mendicant to state Which hand of those before her face, Had the most shapeliness and grace. " *Tis not the hand washed in the brook ; 'Tis not the hand that's tipped with red, Nor yet the hand adorned with flowers ; But 'tis the hand," the beggar said, " That freely giveth to the poor Who have to beg from door to door." RETROSPECTION. A change passed o'er her as she spoke ; Light came into her faded eyes ; The haggard look and wrinkles fled, Till, as an angel from the skies, She stood before that circle mute : — Heav'n solved the question in dispute ! »S Dedicated to Mbs. W. M. Colwezx. S I view the little playthings Scattered o'er the bedroom floor, And behold the little carriage That my darling wheels no more — Ah ! what mem'ries sad and olden Cluster near to make me weep ; In my sadness I remember When my baby fell asleep. Years have flown since that dark morning When the angels bore him home To that land of rest and gladness, Where no sorrows ever come ; Yet those little toys are lying As he left them in his play, And at eve I gaze upon them Till the daylight fades away. 94 RETROSPEOTION. How those little toys remind me Of the child I would embrace ! Even through the mists and darkness- I now seem to see his face ; But that face will draw no nearer, Though I hail it o'er the tide ; Precious angel rests in heaven — Rests close by the Saviour's side. Yet those playthings in that bedroom,. Silent, gloomy and forlorn, Point me back to years so blissful. When bereavement's cruel thorn Had not pierced into my bosom, All my fondest hopes to blight ; Still I'm better for my trials ; God is near in sorrow's night. Though my way be dark and dreary. And the little face I love Beams no more upon my vision Like a twinkling star above, I am patiently awaiting For the coming of that time When I'll greet my angel baby In that far off, heavenly clime. I Tl Ti TODAY, 95 ^O-DAY is yours. The work you have to do Must speedily be done ; "^ The night is coining when man's task is through ; Soon sets the shining sun. To-day is the auspicious time for zeal To show itself in deeds Sublime. Segin your work for others' weal, And go where honor leads. If you would reach the heights of fair renown. You must advance to-day ; On you the solemn night will soon come down ; Then labor while you may. This hour your fortitude is to be tried ; Show, then, your power to bear The fierce assaults of sin that, far and wide. The young and old ensnare. 96 REST IN THE GRAVE. Thy future weal or failure will depend On purposes that now Are hidden in thy youthful mind. They send Defeat or crown the brow With honor's dazzling and unfading wreath ; So live this present day, That good men shall extol thy deeds and breathe Thy name with ecstasy. %t%\ in tfk^ (&tmt. Obi LONG to be laid in the silent grave ; I am wear-' with toil and care ; And 'tis rest, sweet rest, that I fondly crave, For life's burdens are hard to bear. I long to be laid 'neath the daisies white ; — The flowers are kind watchers, you know ; — Then I'd nevermore dread the cheerless night, And my tears would nevermore flow. I long to repose 'neath the willows' shade, With my hands folded on my breast. And to sleep the dreamless sleep of the dead, For I'm weary and sigh for rest. UNNOTIOBD. And la/down 7„rT7lh:r". '"" "^'P' 97 0.^ encouraging word would comfort That fa ,gued and dejected 00^ For tZl ' ^'^ ^® "o*iced *or the few good deeds he ha. done. There are lonely hoar^« i« i-u . Unacknowledged, from yeartyear. 98 UNNOTICED. They are always found in their places, And are faithful to every trust ; Yet they never get recognition, When, to honor them would be just Oh, deign to speak words of approval To the toiler noble and true ! It will lift from his heart a burden And revive his spirits anew. We all like to know when our service Brings good to the young or the old ; A word of deserved approbation Fills the heart with comfort untold. OHRlSTltAS SVS. M ^lirtetmaisi «»,. |OME sit boside the fire t„-„i^ht. ^ ine home and ht»fl.rfK « ' Dances about our feet •*^'" A^d let us talk of olden days. So sacred and so sweet. So^tusallL't^itfr'- Behind, and now be glad. Why should the heart K» «.■ , When scenes of yore cotTl/'*'' P"^' And when we cateh th "^^ "«*'"■ OfBon.efalSi'""''^'"'- 100 CHRISTMAS EVE. That echoed out in happier hours, When life, equipped with youthful powers. Seemed sweeter than the summer flowers That blossomed all day long ? Your hair, good wife, is turning gray ; Nor is your laugh so strong and gay As when, in years long passed away, I lingered by your side ; But though old age creeps on you now. And sorrow's wrinkles mark your brow. You seem as fair to me, I vow. As when you were my bride. I know why tears suffuse your eyes ; You're thinking of the one who lies So still beneath the wintry skies. Unconscious of the wind That moans and sobs around her bed, Or the swaying trees above her head That keep their vigil near the dead. Like watchers true and kind. I think 'tis just ten years ago Since she, with eyes and cheeks aglow, Sat in this chair, and charmed us so With her enchanting lay. OHKiSTafAS era. ^'»ek I we little thought that ,1. So soon would leave ^/h ' ^^-''oftSl^- rjT^^-'-^'^'-^-'- ^O-WstveK''"'^^' Trn,, ^''' "'hate'er betide ^••ust m our Father God • 101 fTT 102 CHRISTMAS EVB. Let us now think of Bethlehem's child, Who came to be a Saviour mild ; And may we, sweetly reconciled, Bow 'neath the chastening rod. Each Christmas time should bring good cheer ; And though past scenes now re-appear As we recall each vanished year. Let us no longer grieve. The future may be brighter, wife, With less of anguish, less of strife ; So let's forget the ills of life, And sing this Christmas Eve ! .^^ THE FLEETim. 103 OW fleeting are thp fK- ^™» %ht a„T^ ':r''' '''■'^ 'hat bl,,e % childhood's home, so dear t„ Is now no „,ore ;,. , *' ^ "e, And through the J.n 7*'' "^ ff°ne. ^^"> -'W„/left luTri' -''^ "'o-- j; 104 THE FLEETING. The years have flown on noiseless wing, And radiant, blissful days of yore Will come to cheer me nevermore , Yet they are worth remembering. I had a friend — a friend most dear ! Who made my earth-life glad and bright ; But from his eyes fled love's warm light, And now my path is lone and drear. My heart is reaching out in vain For that to which it might aye cling : Ah ! earthly joys are vanishing ; This life is full of loss and pain. But hope, sad heart ! To thee is given The promise of a future home, Where disappointments never come, And that unclouded home is Heaven. « )g~^ 't " t« iiiigi * ^EFRIBNDMENT, 105 C>o %^t\tUmtxi\. 8 O how many daily perish J^or the want of needed aid 1 ^ iite uncheered, dismayed ! In lif!' K?? "' everywhere; In lifes battle they are faili„; And are dying in despair. We can cheer fho « xc . neer them, ,f we're willing With a loving word or deed • To:! ""^ -d wi,l help tkem io push onward and succeed. •I I 'ill I 106 MOTHm'S VACANT GHAIR. Let those resting on the summit Now reach down the friendly hand To help upward some weak brother Who has scarcely strength to stand. Such an eflfort will be noble ; It will bring a rich reward ; For the good done to the needy Is good done unto the Lord. NE relic in my lowly home I value above jewels rare ; Its presence makes old mem'ries bloom ;- 'Tis sainted mother's vacant chair. I hear it, as in days long dead ; The sound comes to me everywhere — The creaking noise those rockers made On mother's worn-out, vacant chair. I seem to see that face so bright, And catch the whisper of a prayer She breathed confidingly each night, When kneeling by this quaint old chair. MOTHER'S VACANT CHAIR. How often, in my early youth, She taught me, with an earnest air, Deep lessons from the Book of Truth, While sitting in this easy chair ! Alas ! her voice grew faint one day. And in my heart arose despair ; Closing her dim eyes peacefully. She left to me this vacant chair. To-day I touch life's minor chords; I sink beneath my load of care ; But Still I'm cheered by tender words My mother spoke from this old chair. voices of the olden days ! O joys that ma''' echo the cr^;r;j;f '■-- Give nlJ/^ ^^"^e^ody subJime j^"' Winter. or LT:^;ri"'.- To mock at us in cruelty^ ^' A^ Nature's sober realms put on fO-ight robes when wintr/^ I '^HB^S^ ■*P^ 122 THE LESSONS FLOWERS TEACH. Itte '^mtsxi^ g\mtx% %atix. FLOWERETS beautiful and bright ! ^^^ Voiceless ye are, and yet Ye teach such lessons day and night We never can forget. Ye tell us of God's boundless love With silent eloquence; Ye bid us onward, upward move In faith and confidence. Ye cheer the faint and heavy heart Upon life's weary way, And when affliction's tear-drops start Ye smile those tears away. In the enchanting realm of flowers We nobler grow in thought, Till all our better, higher powers With virtue are inwrought. THE LBssom ri^owms teach. Seeing the lilies how they »row Beneath God'a special ^^ We earn to trust Him and t; go Before fts throne in prayer ''LeIrs'fr^°'"'^''«P«'o<^' ^essons of love impart ; They whi,p,r hope when faith is small And sorrow fills the heart. Darker would be this world of ours And more mysterious, ThaTh.*''' '*"'-*^^<'' ^°M«° flowers That bloom to comfort us. ^'r:r'°^°'"«^«''«'^eetand.ay- Emblems of resurrection day And of our home above 18* I ','1 m 124 A WAR MEMORY. n Tfj T ARK ! the muffled drum is beating, ere the sun (^^-L has mounted high, And away in yonder distance I can hear the bugle's cry. I can see the mute procession moving gracefully along To pay homage to those heroes who fell fighting gainst the wrong. Here, my child, I wish to linger, on this Decoration morn — Here within this silent city that knows neither pride nor scorn ; And ril tell to you a story that will cause the tears to flow, Of a fierce and mighty contest that took place long years ago. ^ WAS MBitOSr. In that flow'ry grave «o n. ^" „ brave and true "^' ^''"' «'««!» »y brother ^^rh7r^^^""'«''»"'«-he.ho.oretheeoat r Srit''''''^ '^'^^'''-ben the .,, ,ro« S.de.by.side we both contended t„^. name. "''*<' '« defend our country's Mother wept to sob ■,<, i held dear , "' '^""'"^ ""e old home we both '"'aetr°°^-''^"--...sea„e.„M '''^rdfein'"^"'«"'«'^''^-d,ot his fata, wound '"lKr^*''»'--e-.-n the midst of shot "'ihetH-^"""'^— .eandthethiCestof ^"'fiSlSbt"' '" '''- *'•-«'• 'hat ,on« and But h" heated breath grew fain* Ws cheek; ^'^ '*'"'«'•' a^. and paler grew "^"'hSSlim sp^i':''''*'^ «»''«<1- ">eae sad words I 126 A WAR MEMORY. 'Brother, I am faint — I'm dying — dying ere I hear the shout Of my country's glorious triumph ; I am surely mus- tered out ! " But I have discharged my duty to my God and native land, And I do not dread the future while the Captain holds my hand. " But I thought I'd march home with you when the strifes of war should cease. And unite with all my comrades in the thrilling song of Peace ! " Ah, this cherished hope is blasted ! yet I'll die a soldier brave, And you'll wrap the flag around me — the old flag I fought to save ! " In the springtime fragrant roses o'er my lonely grave will bloom, And loved voices will oft whisper kind words of me at my tomb. " But I ne'er shall see the flow'rets, nor shall I ever hear The sweet, familiar voices that allured my youthful ear. ^ WAlt MEMOHY, "J shaJI ne'er behoJ^ fi, i. ^^^ «"» see a gorgeous city on a «, •>, ^ °" * ^un-i'lnmined hill "^d I'll 3oo„pa3, through then ., of purest gold- " ""^ Po^a's of that gate ooon be free fro W«s untold. ■" """""^ ''"^"'•^h and rejoice with " Tell kind mother nnff^ ^- r- going t;:ru: ;xr ";- '^^p^'^'^ w, and joy. "^J' ''here are found true peace 128 A WAR MEMORY. " Now her blessing rests upon me, and she prays for me and all ; — Then, a last farewell I dear brother, for I hear the bugle-call 1" This, ray child, will end the story I intended to relate; For I see the long procession passing through the graveyard gate. Let us place this wreath of blossoms just above dear Wilford's breast ; It will show that we still love him as he sleeps in dreamless rest. Then we'll go, in tearful silence, from this city of the slain, And await the Resurrection, when the dead shall live again. LIFES PROBLEM. 129 %\i{% ?rot>Um. I. ROSY morn and a cloudless sky ; Hope in the heart ; No tear-drops start ; Never a pain and never a sigh. a A child's sweet lauj^h, and its little kiss Upon the cheek, And voices speak In tend'rest tones, and there's nought but bliss. III. Then come distress and corroding care ; The joy has gone. The face is wan, And there is an agonizing prayer. IV. Blue eyes are closed, and the child's sweet hymn Is heard no more On earth's dark shore, And a mother weeps till her eyes are dim. 10 BWMHiAMf 130 LIFE'S PROBLEM. V. Then mem'ry calls back the long ago, And hair grows gray, While shadows play Long after the autumn evening's glow. VI. Folded the hands, and ended the strife Of weary years ; Dried are the tears ; Thus closes the scene ; — and such is life ! WHEN I AM DEAD. 131 HEN I am dead, will you draw gently near My corse, and shed o'er it a heartfelt tear ? Will you bring sweet forget-me-nots to lay Upon my breast when I am laid away ? Will you in fondness press your warm, soft hand Against my brow, when to the spirit land I've passed ? Or will you heedlessly go by. Nor pause to look on me with tearful eye ? Will you neglect me in that solemn hour, When my frail life resigns her present power ? You loved me dearly in the days of yore, And eulogized my graces o'er and o'er. My sins you oft condoned with spirit free, And when I erred you showed me charity ; Ah ! will you be as kind when I have jped Beyond earth's shores and joined the silent dead ? 132 WHEN I AM DEAD. Will you come softly near my resting place, And there recall to mind ray form and face — The rhymes I penned — the songs I used to sing In good old days well worth remembering ? Perchance when death releases me from pain You will not fondly think of me again ; But should you plant no flower above my],breast Your cold neglect will not distur]? my rest ! 1 <