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POEMS
BY
DAVID FLEMMING LITTLE.
1 ' \
HALIFAX :
NOVA SCOTIA PRINTING COMPANY.
1881.
Lp"PSfvr5-i'75/^
[OULD but one life be nobler made
liy aught done here, 'twere well repaid;
For — grand the truth— "Of noble lives
Something immortal still survives."
Londonderrti, N. S., ISSl.
CONTENTS.
PAOK
The Wanherer:
Thoughts of Home 7
At Monterey 9'
At Yosemite 1*1
In Los Angeles 1(>
Stanzah on Onn-FELLowsHip Itf-
Recollections of a Visit to Sonoma 29
Miscellaneous :
To Miss B 3»
To Aliss , a close student 39
Jules Tavernicr ; or, Tlie Painter 40
The Solace of Philanthropy to the Oveibunlened 41
Farewell to San Diego 42"
To Miss L K 4'S
C. L. Carr 44
Lines to Sister on hearing of her Death 4&
My Mother 47
Thoughts of my Home in Acadia 47
To a Child at IMay 40
" On the lonely shore " 4l>
Sonnet to Aliss M W 50
To a young lady friend 51
To Miss K G 5^
Burnson's Belief 5*^
The Emigrants 55
The Parting of Lovers 58
To Miss 5{>
A Trouble of Lung Trouble (JO
Tlie Man the more meanly degraded ot the two 61
Paying the Penalty 01
661 r)8
VI.
CONTEXTS.
Stanzas written on the Pacific
Nova Scotia ^'^ ^^.j
The Canaclian's rrouj Uo,;^ .' «4
^^"'•« ' m
Home an.I Hope ... 07
Tlmnksto Longfeiw'".' 08
Wisg J. Q
To M188 T . L 69
•I0M18SK T 70
Advice about Marryine 71
I^artof an E„igtle. 70
Ti'eYear ; - J|
A wish to be in Ymna.".'.' 74
KOUKDS ,X THE LaHHER oP LiPe'! ' ^0
The Kecoid...
ol™«''*f''="««ei''amisaifl,,i„-„, 79
Ifature the True Teacher. 81
i>oHight.... ^ c.":
. , oo
Abuse of anything counted g;;,t:sii. 84
oSrT. ^^'-^''-« Higher • ''" 85
^>n Looking to God . 8«
A Prayer and Afterthoughts.' §7
PIECES IT" "'' ^"" --tting go.d.:: ««
«od and my Destiny
Stanzas to the once ^etrotll^d ^f'thew"; ^^
To AIiss L H- "ter j^^
Thoughts on my Life 95
A Farewell <^
Thoughts when Death se^ni^dv^iy near ••• ^^
The iMght against Death ^ '"" 99
io my sisters Laura and Kate ^^0
100
The Wanderer;
OR,
^tanza0 SErittcn in California-
1876.
THOUGHTS OF HOME.
H£ sha^des of eve are deepeniog round mj bower.
And falling night brings thoughts that make me
yearn
For the dear sounds of home ! This is the hour
When strangers' hall is joyless : heart doth turn
To heart of its own band. Who now would learn.
Even from a lover's accents, sweet and low,
Thoughts not of days gone by 1 If now. I bum,
Tis with the love of home ; and well I know.
Where'er my foot may stray, that flame will brightly
glow.
i
THE WANDERER.
How well do I remtimber every spot
The hours of youth have made so deeply dear t
! I would count it now a happy lot
To look upon those scenes, that rise so clear
To memory's eager eye ; scenes once too drear,
I thought, to feast the young, aspiring mind :
But what have I found since 1 what find I here>-
'Mid friends and nature grand, will memory bind
Like those bright, youthful days, left then unmoumed
behind 1
How oft have I reclined beneath the trees,
Beside that gently murmuring river's brisk I
How often have I sat to catch the breeze
Of eye upon the bank ! and I would link
Thought into thought, and linger still to think :
The circling sky became a narrow dome,
Too small to muse within ; for I did drink
Of nature's spirit cup — but now I roam ;
And no thought seems so sweet, no place is like my
home.
At MONTEHEt
9
IL
AT MONTEREY/
September wind is bi'eaking o'er the hills,
And scattering clouds are flying from the sea ;
The sound of waters wild my bosom thrills ;
And from the deep there comes a voice, to me
More genial than the noise of revelry,
That now arises from the crowded hall ^
And the fair moon and starry brilliancy,
Thin veiled, or glowing bright, impress the call
To be with nature forth upon the ocean^s wall.
I gallop seaward. Spirit of the night,
With thee I love to wander ; and the sweep
Of darkening clouds athwart the streaming light
Of heaven, the swaying trees, the bounding leap
Of the proud horse against the gale, these keep
* Between the Pacific Ocean and Monterey Bay, at the head of
which is Monterey, the old capital of California, there is a ridge
of pine-oovered hills about two miles wide. To have a gallop
over these hills in something of a gale and to come suddenly
within sight of the ocean, is a treat to a lorer of the grand in
nature never to he forjfotten.
]()
TIIK WANDi:iiKIi.
In influence with thee, while my heart is mute.
As carried onward — Lo ! the mighty deep !
Waves roll and dash, the wild jets heavenward
shoot —
O, who could tell the glory, who the power compute ?
Thoughts of majestic grandeur fill the mind —
The lightning flash, the thunder rolling dread ;
The mountain forest heaving in the wind —
The conquering host, with proud triumphal tread,
The charger's champ, the thousand baimers spread,
The martial music, and the welcome home —
The hush of death, the deep dirge for the dead ! —
He, who has chanced 'mid grandest scenes to roam,
May know the gazfr's thought beside such ocean's foam.
The mighty tide, which rolls the thundering bore
Of Cobequid — pride of that slope so fair
From sheltering mountain southward to the shore —
liooked me in youthful days ; and through the wear
Of manhood's stronger years, still everywhere
I stray, my thoughts seem like the waves to be,
As I had drunk the waters' spirit there,
Like him who sung the ocean's majesty,
The bard of nature's realm, or earth, or heaven, or sea.
AT MONTEREY,
It
►ower compute ?
Hifl song I echo now to voiceless thrills,
As traveller on every ocean's brink ;
In storm or calm, its finished fitness fills
"With wonder at the nand whose power could link
Such thoughts in words as hushed the world to think !
Even thy return to gaze upon the deep,
Who from the wreck-strewn shore wor<^ wont to shrink,
When they have learned the lay, aun^ to the sweep
Of his majestic soul o'er seas in xdi)t^ or 8*<>e[>.
Tl.u Lliild of nature loves the lofty str lin
Of praises, chanted to her flashings bright
On mountain peak, or stayless march on main ;
Her beauties traceable by day's calm light,
Or grandeurs known but in the *■ glorious night ;'
And now, a wanderer on mount and shore.
My heart doth draw from nature chief delight,
And I rejoice with bards sublime the more,
That I have learned to muse, to know, and to adore.
O ! give me still the shore, the mount, the wood ;
Still keep me from the cities' work of men ;
For who, that oft on summit rock has stood,
After a night o'er works o' mortals' pen
Or after crowded life has turned agiU!\
Hi
19
THE WANDERER,
To stand by ocean, has not felt the spell
Of something mightier than what charmed him, when
He gave his heart to science, art, or shell 1
Who turns from scenes like this, but with a forced
farewell ?
III.
AT YOSEMITE.*
Turn, turn away, mine eye ; I cannot think ;
Thought is all stunned at that grand, awful sight \
To stand upon the rapid river's brink
Gives me a feeling of intense delight ;
To see the maddened ocean in its might,
Huge billow rolled 'gainst mightier boundary,
* '* Either the domes or the waterfalU of the Yosemite, or
any tingle one of them even, would be luflBcient in any European
country to attract travellers from far and wide in all direotions.
Certainly, taking the whole region of the Yosemito
together, with its fire great falls, the lowest 400 feet and the
highest 2,600, it must be allowed that, in this particular kind of
scenery, it is without a rival in the world." — J. D. Whitmit,
iitaU Otologitt of California.
The highest unhroken fall, the upper part of the Yosemite, i^
1,500 feet.
AT YO SEMITE.
IS
A ToMmito, i^
iDspires me with a reverence as rite ;
But I am more than silent here with thee,
Thou holdest the l»reath of tho«ght, tbou dread
Yosemite 1
Far up beside thee« thou tferaendous Fall,
There is a tree, whieh twice a hundred feet
Has risen from a creviced Ledge of wall :
It looks no lafffi^eT there, thau from the street
The plant in window high ! But who can mete
Thy greatness to the soul H Here I did stand
At eaJy mora, and think with words to greet
Thee ; but my heart was overcome ; my hand
Was not outstretched ; I stood, in speech, in thought
«ifimanned.
Thou river rolling itom Sierra's snows.
The measure of a mountain downward leaps
Thy flood to vale below I Tli« thick mists cWse
Arvund tiny base, most awful fall ; whence sweeps
Away the white foam of thy rage, in heaps.
But far above thy clouds thou dost appear,
The wonder of all continents ! He keeps
No watch like this by thee, who comes not here :
J^ot Eundy's mightiest waves have such aubli«nA
career.
V L
U
THE WANDERER,
0, thou magnificently mighty ! would
That beaven-bom spiriti strong as thine, might break
The spell in which thou boldest mine : I should
Not then but feol and silent bo ; but waiker
Would I tbe notes thou dost inspire, and make
To thrill the heart, but which thou minglest there
With awe and wonder, till they thus forsake
The soul — unutterable : e'en the prayer
I'd raise to other power, thou tura'st to low despair,
How I have watched thee into starry night,
Nor keep my vigil with less earnest eye ;
Jbr now around thee, from the vale to heigbt
Where thou dost take farewell of regions higb^
The mountain columns, thy companions nigh
Put on a glory all unknown by day ; i
And they appear the pillars of the sky f
Apd thou art here among themi in thy pl(vyr
Most beautiful of grandeurs 'neath yon mdlky way«
And now the moon has riseik abov& the peaks ;
And her fair beams seem glad to greet thy face ;
The vapory cloud beneath,, ascending seeks
To apreadi its- beauty neas thee^ aiad, with gnace^
AT YOSEMITE.
ts
I Floats on the rising wind ; now from their place
A hundred outer jets to spray are blown !
glorious scenes ! He who doth joy to trace
Grandeurs which art nor words can e*er make known.
Let him watch here by night, devoutly and alone.
It is the hour of noon on high Clouds' Rest ;
And such a change of scene from yester-night ;
Sierras, north, and east, and south, and west.
Rise near and far to the admiring sight !
At Inspiration point, where depth and height
Break on the soul at once, it bounds with praise,
Then stills itself in wonder ! but the light
Below this mountain edge grows dim, a haze
In gorge so terrible, here brains might reel and craze.
Let me draw back, and look to Lyell* — Lo !
Where nearer than the glacier, like a sea
The dark pines 'neath us heave in storm, while glow
The sunbeams round our watch-tower here \ Ah thee
1 love, thou lightning ! — Heavens ! that giant tree,
Shivered, on fire ! and the deep thunders roll
* From Cloads' Re»t the glfteier on Mooni Lyell can be seen
in dear weather.
16
THE WANDERER.
Along the canyons "wild \ O this to me
Is life, the rapture I would not control :
Now is thy day of years, thine hour of joy, my soul'! *
IV.
JN LOS ANQELES. 1880.t
Years have departed since I wrote those lines ;
But with delight I still recall the day,
When down we galloped through the waving pines,
And filed into the narrow, rocky way,
Which great Nevada Fall greets with its spray ;
A day but once lived, and a road most fit
To lead from heights, where lightnings were at play
Bound peak and glacier, to such vale, 'tis lit
With twilight half its day — " unique, grand, awful !"
writ.
* Only onoe have X ha<i the pleasure of etanding on a mouBo
tain and looking down on a thunder-storm. My feelings of
delight I could not describe.
t " From the city to the sea is a plain of great productiveness,
blcMcd with a climate unsurpassed for ^ts pleasantness and salu-
brity. Until recently the flat, adobe buildings, a la Mexicano^
were mostly found in Los Angeles, but now examples of handf-
•ome modern architecture prevail Fruit trees of all
»9Xi» grow In the neighbourhood, and over a million grape vines
are to be found within the city limits." — Calif omia JUu9trate4
Spirit of the Times,
IN LOS ANGELES,
n
I Now California I must bid adieu ;
Nor from the glorious alone I sigh
' To turn me eastward : friendship, tried and true,
And scenes all lovely, I must bid good-bye !
land, whose Winter is but Spring, mine eye
Grows dim, that henceforth I must be away
[From all I love beneath thy smiling sky ;
But chiefly still to thee, Monterey !
[To thee my thoughts do cling, and to a happier day.
Who that has dwelt beside thy deep-blue waters,
And heard the evening notes of sweet guitar,
And smiled to glances of thy dark-eyed daughters,
Does not remember them when thence afar 1
Oft have I thought, neath vine, nor moon, nor star,
Have I found pleasures elsewhere as with thee !
At Lobos, grottos, waves, spray, rainbows are ;
Point Cypress let him seek who loves the sea ;
Thy shores, thy woods, thy halls, still all are dear
to me.
The twilight deepens ; and my heart to home
Turns as 'tis wont ; deep in niy soul abides
The love of those dear ones from whom I roam ;
In cities full of life, on mountain sides
18
THE WANDERER.
Where cataracts roar, in southern park where glides
The waterfowl 'mid prodigal array
Of floral wealth, where'er I rove, the tiaes
Of thought turn backward at the close of day,
To scenes and loving friends, more dear the more t
stray.
California is one of those delightful lands eagerly sought by
tourist and invalid. Either can be reasonably satisfied within
the "Golden State." But southern California has the climate
that is not only salubrious but charming. Many persons who
have lived there for a few years and returned to their native
places, have removed back again, declaring they could not be
content and would not live in any other land.
It is a country in which persons suffering from lung disease,
while able to walk or drive, can be in the open air three-quarters
of the days even in winter. On the mountains at two or three
thousand feet in elevation the weather is seldom too hot during
the day, and at night it is always eool enough for refreshing sleep.
Here, too, is the diversity of little ridges of oak-covered hills
and fertile vales, in which are seen cosy cottages nestling in gar*
dens of most beautiful flowers and delicious fruits.
STANZAS
eagerly sought by
y satisfied within
\ has the climata
fany persons who
d to their native
hey could not be
rom lung disease,
air three-quarters
at two or three
n too hot during
refreshing sleep,
oak-covered hills
nestling in gar*
ts.
ON
ODD FELLOWSHIP.
Imoribed to the Brothers of Monterey LodgOi Ii 0. 0. F.
SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA, 1870.
HOU spirit breath from realm divine
That moyest hearts to utter song,
Inspire me, and my notes prolong
Meet for a great and blest design :
My theme, Odd Fellowship, attend
For Friendship, Love and Truth descend.
wmBmmmm
■ \\
ill I I
t
i
go
STANZAS OX
Stretched on the couch of sulfering low
I saw the Brothers soon appear ;
The footsteps light I could not hear,
But watched the faces come and go ;
And looked into the pitying eye,
That fills to see a brother die.
The gentle pressure of the hand.
The kind inquiry, and the care
For every comfort needed there,
A strain of heartfelt thanks command :
! worthy make my grateful lay,
As kind my brothers day by day !
IL
Odd Fellowship, thy name to me
Is sacred as the sound of home ;
Far have I chanced from that to roam,
But wasted weak I lean on thee :
Thou art my guardian, thou my friend,
For thee my daily thanks ascends
And thoughts of thee do fill my mind,
Since learning I no more pursue,
For musing on the jojood and true,
ODD FELLOWSHIP,
St
How fit a theme in thee I find I
The lessoNS of thj pleasant hall,
And thy Benevolence to alK
And thinking of thy blessings shed
On stranger where his kin are not,
On widows' board and orphans' lot,
Brings gladness to my lowly bed :
Hence would I now our Order sing,
May heavenly powers the music bring !
III.
liong years ago, in solemn hall,
I saw one taught Odd Fellowship :
He heard from earnest, aged lip
The patriarchal accents fall^
' Give heed unto my words, my son ;
My course thou seest is nearly run.
' I have been young, but now am old ;
^ Yet have I ne'er the righteous seen
Forsaken ; and the holy sheen
Of heaven is round his children's fold :
Blessed his own^ildren's lot.
Forget it not ! Forget it not !
22
STANZAS ON
Let me not tread on holy ground,
Except 08 I have trod before,
When tokens of my right I wore,
Teaching and guiding brother round :
The beauties of our blessed zone,
Save to the members lie unknown.
Enough, no longer stranger he !
Where'er from Nova Scotia*s mines
To San Diego's palms and vinos.
In this great land his place might be,
There he could find a brother's hand.
And need of friends would friends command.
IV.
Oh ! what it is in health to live I
And be a true and worthy man —
To be a power in the van,
Who for our cause their life would give I
The friendly help, the cheerful mood,
O, who can estimate their good 1
Blest be the hand stretched forth to greet
The stranger brother heartily ;
Blest be the face forever free
i
ODD FELLOWSHIP,
2S
To scatter smiles along the street ;
Blest be the words that fall like dew
To cheer the drooping heart anew.
And a thousand times be blest
The man who adds to these his aid,
Who from himself is not afraid
To take some means, or time, or rest,
That he may help a brother man
In hour of need or baffled plan.
V.
He, only he, who has been low
With suffering in a foreign land,
Can know how feels the friendly hand,
How sounds the whisper, soft and low —
The kind regard that thrills the heart.
And makes the grateful tear-drop st^rt
Far from my home and scenes of youth,
Far from my loving sisters' care,
Far from the thousand comforts there,
An invalid am I ; in sooth,
But for that Fellowship so dear,
Too wretched for existence here.
V 2
hf
U
STANZAS OPT
Now I look back to manhood's prime,
For I have passed from that bright Btaqe,
Though mine are not the years of age,
But of a blighted liie's daik time ;
Consumption, subtle, slow disease,
Embitters toil and suddenr ease.
Yes,' I look back to those blest days,
When manly work and pastime brought
Alternate to my daily lot
The charms which kept me in '^uch ways ;
And looking back, my ht t is moved,
And cries, heaven bless, as I have loVed I
Bright be their raemorv to all
Whose thoughts turn back to them^ those
days;
But here I may not biibgJ their praise,
Whate'er their joys in bower or* hall ;
Enough, 'twas then that I did learn
Odd Fellowship, to which I turn.
\
ODD FELLOWSHIP.
»&
VI.
I saw a woman, como* to find
O'er him sho loved the cold earth piled,
And children who, all cares- beguiled,
Had gamboled round that father kind ;
For those dear ones, then met by wand,
Who bid its wretched forms avaunt f
9 them^ those
Odd Fellowship a home supplied ;
Odd Fellowship its comforts brought >
And the few sisters cheered the lot
Of one by loss so sadly tried ;
And children glad dispersed the gloom.
That else had deepened to the tomb.
Kot hers the toil in want and woe,
That must go on for daily bread ;
Kot hers the aching hand and head,
That, half-refreshed, must rise to sew,
Liist the gaunt wolf be in her fold,
Or her babe stiffen with the cold.
*ToCalifoi^ia.
wmmm
S6
STANZAS ON
Not theirs to have no mother's time
Deyoted to their mental life ;
Not theirs to rise through want and strife,
Uneducated, save in crime :
A mother's work most truly great,
Beared honest children for the State.
i ., \ VII.
Odd Fellowship, thou mighty branch
Of the great parent tree of good,
Of all that fruitful, fair have stood,
As storms have risen to blight and blanch,
Where is another growth like thine 1
Protected, pruned by hand divine !
Not that the stem which points above,
Should be dishonored by my voice.
Round it the millions loud rejoice,
When Sabbath bells recall the love
Of the All-seeing God to man,
Howe'er the creeds may show his plan.
But thou great branch, whose fair fruit falls
All ripe and certain in this vale.
Whose plenty makes the good prevail,
ODD FELLOWSHIP.
27
Whose emblems beautify our halls,
Of all I've seen 'ueath light and shade,
My heart-felt theme hast thou been made.
For Friendship, sacred and sublime.
He is a son of heavenly birth.
And sent to bless man's course on earth,
Finds this " new ago " his gloriori , time ;
* Swords into ploughshares ices he wrought,*
And triumphs great, by blood unbought.
And Love, the daughter of the skies,
Is beautiful as morning light,
While breaking on the watcher's sight,
Or starry heaven to poets' eyes ;
Love, holy, sweet, unselfish love,
I3y thac we picture God above.
And Truth, eternal as the heaven.
Is destined to prevail on earth,
To be the judge of word and worth,
When happier days to man are given —
When Friendsliip, Love and Truth combined.
Have blessed the lands of all mankind.
!'
H
RECOLLECTIONS
OF A
VISIT TO SONOMA.
Dear Sir, — This short and poor productiwi is inscribed to yom
for three reasons: You are an esteemed friend of mine, a
brother -af "the Doctor," and, like mysdf, you are not
blessed with a wife and children. The Dedication can do
you no honor, but I hope t%e Eecollections will give yon
some pleasure.
Your sincere friend,
DATID F. LITTLE.
Stun JDiego^ Calif oruh,, I87S.
so
RECOLLECTIONS OF
[OME darling Memory, thou trathfr.l friend,
To bless my evening hour thy company lend ;
My chair is set where cool airs round my feet
And foliage green dispel the summer heat ;
This dale will soon be hidden from the sun.
Be thine the hour before th Jay is done !
Memory ! unlike delusive Hope,
That still decei^'es us as we onward grope,
1 woo- thee, fo» thy strain is sweeter now
Than aught besides to which mine ear can bow ;
I lore thee for thy truth, and truth alone
Can charm this heart which now is all its own.
And of the many lays which thou canst sing —
Of youthful hours and scenes of life's sweet spring.
Of manhood's pleasui'es, and sere nest joys
When science triumphed over all decoys.
And of the friendsiiips which can only fade
When life itself has passed into the " shade " —
Choose once again from fair Sonoma Vale
To draw the notes which can so well prevail.
0, now I catch thy music with delight I
And clustering trees and vineyards rise in sight ;
?
.3
I il
A VISIT TO SONOMA.
31
Field after field with loaded vines appears,
And garden after garden treasures rears :
Behold the pleasant vale so fair extend,
From shore to where the rugged hills ascend !
Now at the Doctor's door I touch the bell,
And sounds within, which youthful pastimes tell.
Fade into silence, and the opened door
Shows me the eldest of the boys, " the four."
Soon I am seated in an easy chair,
And soon appear more youthful faces fair:
The " Father is away, but he'll be back
Within an hour now ;" and there is no lack
Of questioning about my health and " trip,"
While kind remarks between the questions slip,
Until the mother, from a neighbor's brought.
Greets with her welcome kind ; then, as they ought.
The children listen, while their mother's face
Is guiding Goddess of the happy place.
An hour is passed o'er topics interesting,
This mutual friend and that remembered thing ;
The town affairs, the Grove beside the bay.
And prospects yet for dear old Monterey.
And now the children tell me of their schools,
Speak of the teachers' " ways " and grievous rules j
I
;
ii
32
RECOLLECTIONS OF
One wishes I would teach them for awhile,
Which all the rest approve wit i pleasant smile ;
And when I tell them I shall teach no more,
A sad-like wonder spreads their faces o'er ;
But when I say, " perhaps I'll settle down
And keep a book-store in Sonoma Town,
With story books, pictures, and curious things,"
A chorus, quick and loud, and gladsome rings.
For now the mother to the kitchen gone,
I ween to have the supper not brought on
Until the Doctor comes, the children all
Increase their joyous noise through room and hall.
blessed youth ! so free from care and strife :
O happy spring-time of this human life !
Could I one hour enjoy thy health and glee
And then have Heaven present the choice to me,
To live again as I had lived before.
Or with the flowerets die and be no more,
Methinks I'd say, Heaven my choice is this,
To give each loving friend a parting kiss,
To say good-by, then turn once more my eyes
Upon the distant hills and bluer skies.
To look upon the woods, and fields and bay,
Then in a flowery bed myself to lay,
A VISIT TO SONOMA,
33
To close my eyes with flowers around me pressed,
And breathe my spirit into endless rest !
Bnt wherefore muse I ? periods mark the race,
Which is one journey to a destined place,
And if some happier are than others given,
Let me be glad and thank th« grace of heaven ;
Eejoice o'er every good that greets my soul,
But when an ill intrudes think of the whole.
While youth was mine I revelled in its joys,
Nor felt the weight of care which now annoys ;
But oft o'er childish griefs I sadly dwelt,
And thought all sorrows great to youth were dealt.
Tis thus the boy does long for manhood's ways,
And man, forgetting, turns to boyhood's days,
Thinks how supremely blest his lot was then.
And hates the cares which still encumber men.
While could we see the scales the difference try
Between the good and ill of years gone by,
Perchance we'd find the balance much the same
Through youth and age, obscurity and fame.
But hark ! I hear the Doctor in the hall,
And " papa's home," the younger voices call ;
Now in he comes, the gentlemanly friend.
And quick a hearty welcome doth extend ;
S4
RECOLLECTIONS OF
ti ■ '
Regrets the visit was not sooner made,
And more the sickness causing it delayed.
And now into the dining room we walk,
Are seated, pause a moment in the talk.
While the good Doctor turns our thoughts to heaven
In thankfulness for all the blessings given.
In prayer that we be guided in the right.
By influence of the Holy spirit's light. —
Blest is the board like this where'er it be, i
Where southern clime gives rich variety.
Or where the scanty north or mountain height
Provides for strength, not caters for delight. —
The mother makes some slight apology,
As matron will however nice things be ;
And thus the conversation turns on food.
And I applaud, for everything is good ;
But my good friends depreciate their store,
The time for earlier fruits now being o'er —
For peaches, berries, great variety —
But grapes supply the world of fruits to me.
And cheerfulness is shown in every glance.
For well the dining room can mirth enhance ;
The doctor tells a funny annecdote.
Which sets the sounds of laughter all afloat,
A VISIT TO SONOMA,
85
iven
And conversation, wit, and Liber's cheer
Allow no entrance to a trouble here j
All, from the grandma pleasant still in age,
With helping hand and few remarks but sage,
To little Alice rosy, sweetly fair,
All pleased and pleasing seem without a care.
O earth ! if thou couldst yet such joy afford,
O could I yet be seated at my board,
With wife and children happy circling round,
The chief of all life's good were surely found !
But in the sitting-room assembled now.
Fortune does greater pleasures still allow ;
" St. Nicholas — for Girls and Boys " is here,
And for a while affords us lively cheer ;
Its pictures, puzzles, illustrations apt,
O'er which all laugh and little hands are clapped.
With humorous remarks and fitting tales
Bepel all cares, and mirth alone prevails.
Thus time wings on across the evening hours.
Till nine displays the drowsy god's calm powers ;
The children therefore say their kind good nights,
And alow retire. And mine are the delights
Of hearing parents speak their children's praise,
And tell their progress in the Book-taught ways,
!
I
S6
RECOLLECTIONS OF
Of joining in a talk o'er days gone by,
Forgetful how the hours of this one fly,
Till all the evening gone and low the fire,
I recollect myself and pleased retire.
Now, high abovp the hills the morning sun.
The pleasures of a surve)"" are begun ;
Our carriage slowly wheels along a street,
"Where orchard groves still groves of orchard meet j
Where stately trees afford deligl'tful shade
To game-laid lawn and half-hid cottage glade ;
Or where the vine-clad fields for miles extend.
And scattering oaks their grander beauty lend.
And now alighting where a garden lies
In semi-tropical profusion's dyes.
We pass in wondering thought from flower to
flower,
Admire the walks and rest us in the bower.
Thus hours are spent in driving, seeing, talk,
The last not least on road or garden walk ;
For converitation to the human race
Can heighten joy in almost every place,
Except where nature stills, as by the sea,
Or scenes like those of grand Yosemite.
A VISIT TO SONOMA.
37
I pass o'er three glad weeks. 'Tis now the day,
When I must force m3^self " farewell " to say.
The girls, excused from school, dear, bvely friends,
Move me by kindness as my visit ends ;
The best of dinners tliey are having made.
The choicest fruits upon the board are laid ;
While kind as blest the mother cheers us all.
Till sounds the last good-bye within the hall I
Thus from the home I part, the Doctor last,
And wheeled away a parting look I cast !
Farewell, friends so kind ! my heart is weak
As I look back ; and words can never speak
The thoughts 1 feel ; for friendship such as yours
Warm through the soul a flood of feeling pours ;
And deep my spirit sighs that earth has few
So kind and good, so lovable as you.
Muse of the Past, good night ! — the lamp is lit !-
I thank thee, and I would thy lay were writ.
Thus thought I as I left my shaded seat.
And toward the cottage slowly turned my feet ;
And I resolved, by love of friendship moved,
To tell what my Sonoma friends had proved.
A VISIT TO SONOMA.
But feeble now my hand and weak my mind,
I do not justice to the good and kind,
But only show how much my heart loves yet
To dwell o'er scenes it never can forget,
How memory recalls that visit sweet.
And friendship bids it oft the lay repeat
M
MISCELLANEOUS.
TO MISS 8
HE flower by inspiration of the light
Becomes a beauty light is proud to see ;
Then might not I be beauteous in thy sight
Could I but ever get insjnring light from thee 1
1876.
TO MISS
A OLOSE STUDENT.
Y friend, you may call me " the gay Mr. L.,"
Quote " a whispering tale in a fair lady's ear ;"
But my mind had been clinging to study too well ;
I'm no stranger to books, uor religious career.
1876.
40
MISCELLANEOUS.
JULES TRAVERNIER; OR, THE PAINTER.
[NTO a kingdom of his own
The painter turns with a smile ;
And his loyal subjects build him a throne.
As rich as the fairies' isle.
Their beauty is inexpressible,
Those wonders around his seat ;
And gold and gems are but good euough
To lie about his feet !
The marshals that around him throng
Are Nature's guardian host ;
And they bring the beauties of every zone,
The glories of every coast.
And O what a picture they paint him there !
Till his heart bows down in love —
In the homage of a cultured soid
To nature's God above.
M
MISCELLANEOUS.
4i
THE SOLACE OF PHILANTHROPY TO THE
OVERBURDENED.
".Breakf break, break.
On thy cold gray stones O se !
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me."
Tknntsok.
«
iREAK, break, break,
On the rocks of life, oh heart !
I would to God I could still
The murmurs that in thee start !
Thy billows, rolling sea,
A heaving, heartless band.
Can smooth the crags o*er which they dash,
And flow on glittering, sand.
But oh ! the surging of my mind
Wears but its st»"ongth away ;
And the same rough rocks it beats upon,
But weaker thaii yesterday.
Break, break, break.
On the crags of life, oh heart !
'Tis well if thy surging can only smooth
The path of some sadder one's part.
MISCELLANEOUS.
FAREWELL TO SAN DIEQO.
(LBAVIMO ON STEAMER, JUNE, 1878.)
TAREWELL to San Diego friendsy
To hearts ao kind and true ;
While'er 1 feel the throb of life
My thoughts will turn to yoU.
To brothers of the mighty " links/'
And of the " mystic tie,"
Farewell to meet in that Grand Lodge
Which has been called on high.
Where but the faithful are prepared^
And God himself presides )
Where goodness is the one degree^
And naught admits besides*
Farewell both friends and pleasant scenes
Beside the peerless bay^
In memory still I'll cling to you
Though far my feet may stray.
1
MISCELLANEOUS.
4S
TO MISS L-
H-
(IN AKSMTES.)
fORGET theef Not while worth I see,
Or memory claims a pleasure ;
"When turned from toil to think of thee
Will be my dearest leisure.
Thine image in my heart enshrined,
So fair, so bright, so cheering.
In sweetest mood shall keep my mind,
Thyself the more endearing.
Foi^et thee ! Not while thought I know.
Though wide our paths may .sunder,
And darker waters o'er me flow
Than suffering keeps me under.
I'll think of thee while earth I roam,
And if to me 'tis given
To f^oach ere thou the Blessed Home,
I'll long for thee in hearen !
Hi
u
3fISGELLANE0VS,
: I
O. L. OARR.
(in MSafORY.)
''ITH quivenng lip and tear-dimmed eye.
His fate is read by many a friend ;
But this wo trust i» not the end,
There is a part V^'t rsnnot die.
Then put the sad ; v^Hincement by ;
" In nridst of life we are in death ;^
But from the flesh-destroying breath
The spirit wings its flight on high.
To all there comes tlie great decree,
That dooms the living to the dead ;
For all the shroud of ** past " is spread^
Who feel our frail huniianity :
But * honored, wept, and sung * is he,
The man, the patriot, the friend.
Whose voice and band did erer tenci
To fellow-man's felicity.
The gentle hearty the cultured mind.
That loved with favorite bard to dwell.
That felt the sympathetic spell
Of classic avkthos stiong to* bind ;,
MISCELLANEOUS.
45
That with the social few refined
In sacred home held converse sweet,
These still with kindred ones will meet,
And still eternal pleasures find.
oy^Aj^
LINES
TO A BI»TfiR ON HEARING OF HER DEATH.
'he tears that from an aching heart
Unbidden rise and silent flow,
Oh ! what are these to pay the part
A brother for thy love doth owe 1
My sister ! could an angel's pen
Convey the thoughts that rise in me.
Thy worth and loveliness might then
Be sung in fitting melody.
That spirits saintly sweet as thine
Are found among our sinful race,
Proclaims our primal source divine.
And bids u« seek that better place.
40
MISCELLANEOUS.
But o'er the souls that held thee dear.
How is the robe of sorrow drawn !
Forevei from this gloomy sphere,
Thou art forever from us gone.
Ah ! sad must be the dear home now.
Thy bright and cheering smile hath fled ;
Love's last wreath has adorned thy brow ;
Oh ! can it be that thou art dead ?
The May-groen fields, the orchard flowers,
Looked they the same that mournful day.
As when in cloudless, youthful hours
We roamed and danced the time away \
The scenes along the river banks,
The wild-flowers, birds' nests as of yore.
The trees in nature's own free ranks, —
They still are there, but thou no more (
Farewell ! for brighter worlds designed,
Thou image fair of truth and love.
Since thou art gone my troubled mind
Turns longing to the home above.
MISCELLANEOUS.
V
MY MOTHER.
(on biciivimo mamt teabs after her death a lock 0?
her hair in a letter fboh home.)
fY Mother ! how dear to me
The memory of those days long past,
When I could ever turn to thee
Nor know such pleasure would not last !
But I have learned in gloomy shade
The dearest friend may shortest stay,
The dearest hope most quickly fade :
Kought blooms that blooms not to decay.
THOUGHTS OF MY HOME IN ACADIA.
CALIFORNIA, 1876.
W home ! and have I still in that dear land
A home % And is there still a chair for me.
Which will be vacant till the mystic hand
Of fate will lead me back 1 could they see
Mine eye turned thither, sad and longingly,
And read the thoughts of them I feel to-night,
The stranger's thoughts of home, how quick would be
The tear-drop shed, the prayer put up — the rite
Of sister's love, and life " by faith and not by sight.'*
48
MISCELLANEOUS.
Perhaps they're kneeling now, and turn to pray
For those who bow the knee no longer there ;
And when they think of one, so far away
From them and all the rest held dear, the prayer
Will be more deep and earnest, that the care
Of heaven's kind hand may with him still abide,
To lead aright, to shield from wily snaw,
To be the sure, the constant, cheering guide
Of him who long did join, but now is sundered wide.
O blessed was that home, where sage-given light,
O'er all the joys and griefs of our abode.
Shone like the lamps of heaven by day and night.
Diffusing peace and lessening every load :
The parents walking in the " narrow road,'*
And solemn in devotion, strict in rule.
Still gladly cheered where youthfnl faces glowed
With merry play, o'er shop or garden tool,
O'er labors of the farm or task of tillage school.
: f
MISCELLANEOUS.
4^
TO A CHILD AT PLAY.
fHY ringing notes of childish glee,
?^ That speak a mind yet free from care,
Thou little knowest how sweet to mo
Is every echo on the aif :
Thou call'st me back to days long past,
The sunny days of mirth and play.
Before my sky was overcast.
And smooth and flowery was my way.
Qy"W!iy&
ON THE LONELY SHORE.
[HE sad sea seems to answer what I think ;
And I half stoop to catch its kind reply !
It seems so strange that there must be a brink
O'er which I cannot pass to mingle my
Existence with the waves ! Or low or high,
Their song is all my music no\v : the notes
Of other powers have sometimes filled mine eye ;
But from the eternal sea an anthem floats,
That fills and lifts the soul ! — keep hence artistic rotes.
60
MISCELLANEOUS.
SONNET TO MISS M — W
MBOWERED, where the zephyrs of a clime,
Kich in its floral loveliness, do play
Their summer gambols at the close of day,
Thou sittest, thinking, and it is the time
When thought grows spiritual and sublime-
Before the mellowing and lessening ray
Of the beloved twilight hour gives way
To later eve — while still the sounds do chime,
When heard, with nature's whisperings; and thine eye
Eeveals the inspiration of a heart
That catches wisdom's notes with impulse high !
0! lady, thus inspired, thine is a part
Of the expression of our God anigh :
A form of the adorable thou art.
MISCELLANEOUS.
61
TO A YOUNG LADV FRIEND.
(llf HER ABSENCE ONE EVENINO FROM OUR BOARDINQ-HOUSE.)
[Y heart turns back to other days^
And cons their pleasures over ;
And leaves its sighs in all the ways
I've trod, a reckless rover ;
Sweet were the hours of love and song,
And gay as fond the lover ;
Nor thought as time flew swift along,
The dark clouds soon would hover.
But while I've life still let me hope,
Let weakness cease repining ;
The wisest men through darkness grope.
And who knows God's refining %
Let thoughts of friends alone me cheer,
For mine could be no kinder ;
And I can say of one most dear,
She threw a klea behind her.
5.e
MISCELLANEOUS.
TO MISS K Q
, S heaven, that through tlie gloom of night
Its starry radiance streams,
So, love, art thou, thy dark eyes' light
Subduing, charming beams.
Alas ! that thou should'st have the power
To move and fascinate,
V/hile I must live Irom hour to hour,
The wretched child of fate.
The chance of knowing health again
1^0 more appears to me ;
And oh ! the thought — how weak ray pen —
Is hell since knowing thee.
BURNSON'S BELIEF.
(thi commbnts of an invalid on sbbinq a poor, or.D DOO
FOBMEBLT KNOWN AS A FINE, NOBLB ANIMAL.)
fY noble friend so strong and brave,
That scornedst alike the foe and wave,
Hast thou too reached where nought can sav*5
From lowly lying ]
Ay ! soon they'll put thee in the grave.
Beyond that sighing.
MISCELLANEOUS.
53
)0O
av^
'Twas truly grand thy fearless dart
At duty's call to do thy part ;
But ah I too feeble now thou art
For any mission ;
It almost makes the tear-drop start,
Thy sad condition.
But should it be as I've been taught,
Perhaps I'll learn to bless the lot
Of those like theo that go to nought,
(Av I expect it,)
Instead of getting it " red hot "
For disinfectant.
Though that is not just what they preach,
Eternal burning's what they teach,
To gnash the teeth and wail and screech,
Each son and daughter,
But never get within the reach
Of a drop of water.
To scorch and bake and roast and broil.
And still live on — such flesh won't spoil —
Or hold one foot up from the soil
All brimstone burning.
Till he gets tired of such damned toil
And goes to mourning.
mm
Si
MISCELLANEOUS,
Yet fear I not such fate will iall
To any creature on this ball ;
Sure the Creator of us all
Is not so cruel,
That he would damn us great and small
For useless fuel !
Ah that harsh wind — I'll have to say
Good-bye, ray friend, and haste away,
Or V\\ be coughing all the day —
Thous't not that bother-
Though well I might prolong my stay
With such a brother*
^»i0M0i>^
i
MISCELLANEOUS,
55
THE EMIGRANTS.
(These line* W«r« written to form a part of StaDjas on Odd
Fellowship ; but the form of that piece wt-i^ cfaanged and
these lines excluded).
""^WAS when the summer days welt) long,
When yet the gmin was growing gteen,
When yet the wild flowers fair were seen,
In Scandanavia, by a throng
That from a deck looked back to land)
Silent two men were seen to stand.
Th'?y gazed upon the fields and hills>
Where they had roamed in youthful days,
Content wilk boyish aims and plays.
When scarce they knew this life has ills. —
He, who to foreign lands has t\imed.
May know the thoughts that in them burned.
From Sweden, bottnd ths waters o'er;
They sailed, two nobly good y «uig men ;
Their hearts were strong and cheerful then
With vlsiotos of the New World's shore ;
Nor KHjcked they of the ocean broad
Between it und their native sod.
6G
MISCELLANEOUS.
Each was the other's dearest friend ;
Together they had wrought and read,
The same had been their room and bed ;
And thus they wished, till heaven would send
A day oi happier fortune still,
And they their spheres in homes should fill.
But oh ! of all we plan on earth,
How little do we realize !
Of all the aims our glad hearts prize,
How few survive their year of birth !
Of all the slippery hopes we grasp,
How few are kept within our olasp !
man, a wonder to thyself !
A being blind in plan and deed,
In gathering gain or curing need,
In doing good or hoarding pelf ;
And oft while hurrying on thy track,
Retreating then most swiftly back !
Thy hopes are like the dews of morn.
And evanescent in their hour.
As is the moisture on the flower.
When summer windj are o'er it borne :
Oh ! brother man, short-sighted, vain,
Is most we do for good or gain !
II
MISCELLANEOUS,
57
In mill ocean the cry was heard,
" The ship's on fiie !" " the ship's on fire T
O God \ of all the tidings dire,
That ever rose by human word,
Protect me from that awful sound,
When helpless hundreds crowd around !
Another eve, and from the end
Of other ship, one Swede looked <lown
Upon the watere, gloomy grown,
The grave of his beloved friend :
The tears that stain a manly cheek,
'Tis no light sorrow ihey bespeak !
O friends who leave us in our v* ith.
With our young hearts unused to loss,
So franticly our passions toss,
We half refuse to feel the truth,
That we can see your forms no more
On this life's checkered, mournful slu)re 1
Or with the corse, or far away,
Or seeing buried from our sight.
Or tracing lines some friend did write—
The sad fact, coming as it may.
The death of a young, tried, true friend
A comrade's heart doth sorely rend.
if
d3
MtSCELLANEOVS.
T>4e F^ARTIIsiQ OF LOVERS.
(some LiNES FOUim €^ A MISLilli LBAf' OF A DBSTBOTECf POElf.)
jE, ^lio would kno\t lio\^ lovers part,
Must pre8» the lovo«l oi\q to hia heart )
'Arttl feel wliiit ne'er can be expressed,
liow throbs the i;>!irting lover's breast,
While turning froni the one nirrst deaf,
More than all else he knows of here j
lu whom are fixed his llctiics for life.
Conic weal or \voe, conic i^eace or strife ;
111 pbabo enotigh she to be nigh,
tu \^ar hei^ name to forlifv.
l^hoy parted. ! how lovers part,
"Who love with all (inselHsh heart,
Esteeming each the other more
Than sfelfi or fame, or >vealth, or lore,
To be fdr months, perhaps for years,
Apart in suffering, danger, fears !
Sweet had been all his wonis, but vain
For more than merely lessening pain,
Such as was sickening her heart,
So sad to her the thought, we part I
i)
MISCELLANEOUS,
&
They who h.ive sat at eventitle,
Beneath the arbor side by side,
Each to the other duubly dear,
Alas ! the parting moment near ;
And felt the last embrace and kiss —
O were it not the last, what bliss —
Then from the clasp of fondest love,
Turned in the bitter pangs of parting.
May know , p , f
■ org^^^
TO MISS
'•m-riarf
niJOWN like change moonbeams on a patk
Through gloomy woods and wild,
TIas been sweet pleasure round my heart.
When thou hast only smiled.
Oh how I hate the bitter thought,
That we must part forever ;
For though I ne'er may see thee mora,
J (can iorgejb tliee navjur.
60
MISCELLANEOUS.
A TROUBLE OF LUNQ T;?DU3LE.
(to a brother invalid.)
'HEN" tired and warm,
To keep you from harm,
Minii the virtues of lemon and birley ;
"Puiiua * stick/
And drink it down quick,"
And leave a ten-cent piece with Charley.
But I slwMild not conno bore
To test "Charley's" cheer,
"Were I able to reach our hotel, sir >
I abhor a saloon,
And would count that a boon,
Which would, banish them all otf to bell, sir.
i
I
j^^
MISCELLANEOUS,
61
THE MAN THE MORE MEANLY DEGRADED OF
THE TWO.
(on hearing op the SEDDCTION 0? A PRETTY 80HOOLMATB.)
HE wretch of whom it can be said,
** He led one so she fell,"
Has sunken to as foul a depth
As any e'er called hell.
But he who mends that monster crime
By marriage, love and care,
In greater part atones for it.
And saves the erring fain
(a/7?ArQ
PAYING THE PENALTY.
(a TOUNO man's LAUBNT BETURNBr> TO HIM IN VIR8B.
[0 !iira who turns in memory back
To youth and ^ ,ve's beginning,
While tortuied now on suffering's rack,
How dire v.he cobt of sinning .'
m
MISCELLANEOUS,
Like fruit from Sodom's cursed soil
Have been my pleasure's flashes ;
With eager lips I aeized the spoil.
But now I taste the ashes !
Q/TP^l/^
STANZAS
(WBITTBN OK THE PACTFIC, OFF SOOTHBRN CALIFORNIA, BUT NOT
IN SIGHT OF LAND.)
WIDE expanse of waters ! not a saii
To break the iiely, mild monotony
Of the Pacific ! Those who can regale
Themselves with its refreshing breeze, and see
Beauty in ocean ever, hero may be
Content in sooth, and not without delight ;
The very motion brings a kind of glee,
In keeping with the sky and wavelets bright ;
And pleasure still is found through feeling and
through sight
But to the eastward is a land so dear,
I reck but that we leave it far behind !
There have I oft been glad in friendly cheer ;
And found such pleasure oft with bright^ refined^
i
i
JOT
'
MISCELLANEOUS,
63
Profusely nature-gifted, charming mind,
I can but gaze, though the hoiizon bounds
Show not the shore. Its memories are twined
Around my heart. Upon its varied grounds
I've mused with nature oft, and joyed in social sounds.
Ballcna is not rich as many a spot
In Southern California, where the palm
Can flourish and all fruits abound ; 'tis not
Bedecked so much with beauty ; but the balm
Of its pure atmosphere inspires a calm
Through weary, troubled mind ; its water-springs
Are limpid ; its nights cool : a very psalm
Of peace is taught one by the toilless things,
Which its secluded life gently around him biings.
But I am journeying homeward ! and the thought
Of those so loving and beloved ; the home
Of hopeful boyhood ; and the holy plot
Of our departed, whither from the douje
Of life and love, the scene of toil and tome.
The mother and two sisters have been borne —
One kissed me weeping ere I turned to roam —
This thoiight succeeds the grief that I have torn
Myself from much so dear, and I no longer mourn.
64
MISCELLANEOUS.
" Sail ho ! to windward of the starboard bow I
Come out on deck ; that writing gear belay !"
Ay, ay ! my hearty friend, I'm with you now ;
Where is your steamer 1 right beside us, eh 1
" The Panama Mail Steamship too, they say."
We pass the naval compliments ; the sea
And night-full close the view ; each goes his way ;
* Men meet, and greet, and part eternally ' —
But now the Southern Cross a brighter theme shall bo.
NOVA SOOTIA.
(on BBACHINO nova SCOTIA AFTER AN ABSBNCB OF SEVEN TEARS.)
Y native land ! my native land !
Once more I stej) upon thy sod,
Once ir.ore beneath that flag I stand.
Still held so dear through years abroad.
My native land ! my own dear home !
Blest bo the souls that drew me here ;
True, I have loved afar to roam.
But O I find thee doubly dear !
i
/
MISCELLANEOUS,
65
50.
i
i.)
]My quickened heart its homage pays ;
Would that my words its warmtli might toll I
Who holds the harp tliat sounds thy praise ?
Fain would I once its numbers swell !
My own dear land of rolling hills,
And leafy woods on mount and plain,
And flowery banks by pleasant rills,
And fair slopes stretching toward the main.
What though within thy stem-rock bounds
I see no palm nor mango wave,
Nor hear from spicy lx)wer the sounds
Of southlands where thy waters lave.
Thine are the sons of honest toil
And sweet contentment crowns their lot !
O may thy patriots guai\i their soil,
Thy sons can find no happier spot.
:
ee
MISCELLANEOUS.
THE OANADIAN'8 PROUD MOPE.
WE, fifiy years more will have come, hurrah !
We shall joy o'er a nation's birth ;
We shall be the Republic of Canada,
Fit to join with the greatest of earth !
Our parents far over the ocean we love,
But we 'cannot brook trammels like theirs ;
Wo must choose our own rulers, a king is for serf*i,
And by lorddom no patriot swears.
Our longitude also between the great seas,
Even should king and lorddom go down,
Unfits us for joining our senate with tla-irs ;
And their vote would be worse than the crown.
MtSCELLANKOtlS,
67
k
TRURO.
(cnt VIBWINQ TUB TOWN PROM ONtfbOW.)
fllERK nt t!>e head of Cobequid
Stands Truro, quiet town and fair ;
Green woods and pleasant fields around,
And folk within unprcssed with caro.
The hurrying of the busy mart,
The crowded thoroughfare at eve,
They have not such to jostle through j
Nor riot hordes o'er which to grieve.
And though the great may still be thence \
A Tyndall nor a Dickens come,
A Booth, a Beecher, never heard,
There is no torturing city hum.
But manly strength and enterprise
And talent there are not unknown,
While beauty in a galaxy,
And modest worth are e^er shown.
Truro, when I first beheld
Thy curling smoke, and towers, and "size,"
How was my youthful spirit moved.
How eager were my youthful eyes !
68
MISCELLANEOUS,
And now the tortures and the charms
Of city life all un forgot,
Now shall I praise and bl'ime thee more
For what thou art o : still art not ?
oy^^iij^
HOME AND HOPE.
18C5.
" IN THE LEAFY MONTH OP JUNE.'*
I UK homestead with its pleasant scenes,
Extends along the river's side,
Whose banks the stately evergreens,
High towering o'er their moss cloak, hide.
cheerful is the li^ht that beams
Through foliage on the water's face !
And blissful is the hope that gleams
For earnest hearts in life's great race.
(S
MhSCELLANKOUS.
60
THANKS TO LONGFELLOW.
Longfellow, thou who hast sung us Evangeline,
^ Singing so sweetly and teaching so wisely,
Ever interpreting Nature so charmingly,
Here in the Acadie thou hast exalted,
Here would I, though not descended frc^ni king-
MTonged,
Ancient Acadians, (still not inheriting
Lands they were driven from,) fain would I thank
thee.
Acadie's self for thy lay has grown clearer ;
Patience, and woman's devotion seem grander,
Hope more effective, and earth more delightful.
e/iyjb^
MISS J-
G-
'WEET is the flower of early spring,
That blooms the first to greet the eye ;
Sweet is the bird that comes to sing
His morning song my window by.
But sweeter far than flower or bird
Is she whom I have met to-day.
Sweeter than can be told by word
A bonnie lassie, kind and gay.
70
MtSGELLANEOtlS.
TO MISS T-
lEAK coz. : Why is thy pretty voice
So seldom heard within our dwelling 1
Tliy presence makes my heart rejoice —
But sure thy charms 'twere useless telling.
Yet, though so clear to others' eyes,
Perhaps thy modesty prevents thee
From seeing worth they highly prize ;
Or is it, * power unused contents thee V
Oh ! why arc gifted friends so rare ;
And voices sweet so often wanting ]
Nature shines richly everywhere,
But man, how poor, with all his vaunting !
14
■x\l\\\!/////
MISCELLANEOUS.
71
S-
TO MISS B — T
FRIEND of mine, so truly dear !
Oft I look back to thy sweet land ;
And know I none, or there or here,
Who can like thee my heart command.
From some remote, divine retreat
An angel must have brought to thee
That nameless charm, but charm so sweet.
Which makes thee what thou art to me.
Thy loved ones are a favored few —
And do they truly know thy worth t
in my dreams 'tis thou I view !
And think thy land the blest of earth.
The words " I like," though in my speech
Kot as in theirs who but pretend,
Can never here my feeling teach :
Ah ! yo te amOf darling friend.
,i:
1'f
7^
MISCELLANEOUS,
ADVICE ABOUT MARRYING.
TO MISS .
[E who can love you with a strong, true love,
Possesses power to conceal his grief
That you refused him ; ay ! to make you cease
To grieve for either, parting as if lief.
Then be not moved by a persistent one
Against your heart and sense to give your hand.
Match not but where both love and reason urg'e :
Take that for ground, and firmly keep your stand.
PART OF AN EPISTLE
TO CLEMENT t. LITTLE AND ROSS MCLEAN.
;RIENDS of my youth, companions of the days
When life could gather joys a thousand ways,
When hope would paint, in hues divinely fair,
The scenes to come as if there vf'^re no care.
While with me now an hour in looking back,
Kor mourn though we can ti-acc no shining track.
MISCELLANEOUS.
73
le
dd.
Ay ! though the years have brought no wealth nor
fame,
But that which makes us scarce ourselves the same —
A change in daily thoughts, beliefs, and tast«es,
As 'mid life*s varied scenes our being wastes —
Still must ye Ir to muse o'er some hours fled,
Some scenes recall througli which our youth was led,
Still love to think of fields, and banks, and streams,
Which each with its own thousand memories teems.
With reverence first the school-house let us view :
I passed it yesterday and thought of you ;
And others too of our age in the van
Along the restless race from child to man,
Of Dunk and Charley, Perley, Lee and Lou,
And many others less of whom we knew.
And fairer forms before my mind arose,
And faces flushed from "Copenhagen's" close —
A game I hate, though cherry lips I love,
I would their sweets in private only prove —
But ah ! though these so fair, so sportive those,
IIow many now within the tomb repose !
The teachers too who labored for our good.
How Moore and Creelman plain before me stood !
7Jt
MISCELLANEOUS,
I !
t I
I can appreciate now their aid and cheer,
Since I have learned the teachers' hard career.
Yet sighed I lor their work j for it did fill
My heart with grief, to see that o'er the hill
That house was pushed, outcrowded by a church-
God of good, in which should be the birch %
THE YEAR.
(part of a reverie on the last day of tub tear, 1880.)
L
'IME has brought the last leaf of a volume to day,
A volume of history, comment, and song ;
And ray heart grows pensive, as I turn
The last of the leaves v/hich therein belong.
O memory, ne'er lead me back through all !
There is sorrow enough in the present page ;
When thou pointest my mind to the changeless past.
May it be to a joy or a word from the sage.
IL
And why does Time look s« stern to-day ?
Through the frost on the window he first looked in.
And he bade good morning with no sweet note,
Lut he rattled the stove with fearful din.
MISCELLANEaUS.
75
He sits by the fire, and melts the ice
From his long, gray beard, so matted and curled ;
He talks of his work, nor sighs o*er the way
He has swept his terrible scythe through the world.
180.)
day,
«'>
m,
IIL
O ! look not on him ; but turn thee to me,
The memory from which thou hast prayed ne'er to
part;
I will hold thee the book he has made thee this year ;
Head : 'twill moisten thine eye, but 'twill not wring
thy heart.
IV.
In arid ani wild Arizona, I ween,
There were faces which I have been happy to see ;
There were voices which I have been joyful to hear ;
And the winter days there were not all dull to me.
V.
O Southern California ! How sweet the May morn
When I came o'er its flowery plains and rich vales ;
How soothing tlie streams to my thirsty eyes.
As they rippled away from the fern-covered dalea.
76
MISCELLANEOUS.
Fair land of the orangR, and citron, aud olive !
The viue, and the inyrtie, and laurel are there ;
And oft do the notes of some maiden's guitar
From her lovod garden-bower float out on the air.
How oft in the summer beneath the dense fig-t^ee,
I have mused on great Nature with poet sublime ;
Or followed the tale of some fond lover's wooing,
Fanned by zephyrs so sweet, that are breathed in
that clime.
QJ^tiJ^
A WISH TO BE IN YUMA, ARIZONA, FOR THE
WINTER.
%
S
(to j. e. hurford, esc?.)
■ '" " "' ^'M ^ ♦'^ * f-' ''riH' fptnt this s^now ;,
\\ ii<jr.' lav. iMia Uvturfiit lall Ihill'aday in theyeart
With the winter not cold and clammy as death ;
'Tis the land for the invalid : why am I here ?
Yes, I wish from my heart I wero back there again ;
I swear it, my friend, by the town's Holy Rood !
What matterered the " morals " to such men as we ;
We had friends of our own that were pleasant and
good.
MISCELLANEOUS.
77
And the talcs of the miners were interesting,
As thej sat on the porch in that mild, cloudless
clime,
And talked of adventures, and gold, and the " works,"
Till the notes of the bugle * proclaimed " bunking
time."
* Of Fort Yuma just across the Colorado River.
'■ III
ROUNDS
itr THi
LADDER OF LIFE.
'
THE RECORD.
HO has not * heard a voice say, write 1'
Who does not feel that strong desire
When thoughts sweep o'er him in the night
That he might touch some living lyre 1
What shall I write 1 Thy life-wrought creed,
With songs of progress, truth, and peace :
strongly bid the right God-speed,
And hope that superstition cease.
?i:
80
ROUNDS IN THE
CURINQ SELF-CONOEIT AND SELFISHNESS.
ENS' minds a'-e as different as time-pieces are,
With precious and worthless stones all set ;
And never his wisdom increases far,
Who thinks, in himself many virtues are met.
And tastes are as different as morn from eve ;
And he who heeds not what others desire,
Will by mean impoliteness his kindest friends grieve,
Make them disrespect him, and provoke them to ire.
Of course it is not yourself ^ dear friend.
Who has self-conceit and selfishness :
But your neighbor, and oh ! his wife ! — They'll not
mend ;
But then they deserve a hard rub, you'll confess.
.
:3KSM*dUtU«hia»«i
LADDER OF LIFE.
81
GETTING ABOVE POVERTY AND
THRIFTLESSNESS.
|H ! Poverty, thou gaunt and hideous hag,
Full of ill-will and heartless cruelty !
Oh ! how can people bear to see thee drag
Thy dabbled skirts, where plump Prosperity,
That maiden sweet and bright, about their homes
should be !
NATURE THE FAIREST LOVE.
NATURE, fairest love I my heart doth swell,
Remembering days gone by, the spring-time when
With thee I walked and felt thy holy spell I
Thy beauty was my soul's enchantment then ;
And sweet thy breath in forest and in glen :
I kissed thy hand, presenting me fair flowers ;
And I forgot the common joys of men
In charms like thine ; and lingered in thy bower* ;
And revelled in thy courts by night through glorious
hours.
■W
82
ROUNDS IN THE
NATURE THE TRUE TEAOHER.
00 much light prevents our seeing
Some of nature's loveliest views :
*Tis by night the glow of heaven
Charms our spirits and subdues.
So the torches lit by learning
Dim our vision oft by sheen^
While a thousand beauties round us
By our souls are never seen.
But the sun is still a portion
Of a universe sublime ;
"While the learned — half fanatics—
By their flambeauo, in our prime
Lure us oft from truthful nature,
And consume our precious time.
LADDER OF LIFE.
8S
THE WORLD WANTS MEN WHO DO THINGS
WELL.
(HE world has little need to-day
Of men who pass for " smart ;"
It has a multitude of such
In every kind of art.
The world wants men who do things well,
The tJiorovgh and the true ;
The men whose honesty is stamped
On every thing they do.
"'*-?
BEAUTIFY THE COU^TRY.
HY '• ."ve our roads so many crooks
And little jogs unsightly ?
The turns are unavoidable,
The needful we have rightly ;
But this eye-torturing crookedness !
These curves that are not pretty ! —
The n>inds which are not pained at such
The spirit of beauty of pity.
HI
I "^
34
ROUNDS IN THE
[Behold, where farmers have straight roads,
And white-washed barns and fences,
And fields adorned with lines of trees !
How pleasing to the senses !
'Tie not enough to have some trees
In clumps about the dwelling ;
But beautify the country all,
Life's stores of pleasure swelling.
Q^ngji^re)
f
DO RIGHT.
jO right ! Never try to keep in the fashion
If the fashion is not right ;
The fools on 'ihe watch for every new style
Have smali views but by physical sight.
Do right ! No matter what others may say,
'Tis the nobler part to do right !
Salt your book etiquette with good sense ; and work :
You will win, trusting but your own might.
LADDER OF LIFE.
85
ABUSE OF ANYTHING COUNTED GREAT SINi
^^Y the gifts and the goods we possess,
By the courses and work we can choose,
We may rise to higher and purer life :
To do otherwise is to misuse.
And how can we sin against God
In any way that will reach Him, so high,
As when we abuse His handiworks —
Ourselves, or aught else 'neath the sky ]
Disease is a form of sin ;
'Tis a wrong development :
Men trample on nature's laws, and the effect
They say the " Lord's will " has sent.
Let us pause ere we speak of God's will.
Lest we call our errors His way ;
Let *' The gentld mother of us all " direct :
Who slight her go meanly astray.
Two men went into their barns
To lead their horses to drink ;
One said, " ha damn you, my pretty sleek Bess ;"
He cursed but he did not think.
The other's horse shied at the door ;
He was one who never did curse,
r»ut he whipped the horse; he was hurl and afraid ;
Now wliieh of the men sinned worse]
a $
86
ROUNDS IN THE
WE WANT SOMETHING HIGHER.
'LEEP comes not to my soul to-night,
And I look forth upon the stars ;
But I would more than planet light,
No influence now hath glowing Mars.
Asia hath taught and Europe tried
Lore which they claim was brought from heaven;
System with system long has vied.
And sect with sect to spread its leaven.
The bards of Israel have sung,
And sweetly told celestial hopes ;
Great words from learned lands have rung ;
But still the race in darkness gropes.
'I
O that such wisdom might be taught
As would us lead in paths of bliss !
Heavens, with what earnestness I sought 1
And thence my spirit dictates this : —
"We want the creed that sweetens life.
The creed of conscience, love, and peace ;
We want the end of bigots' strife,
"VVe want sectarian walls to cease.
aama
LADDER OF LIFE.
! we want something higher taught, "
Than God as jealous, burning fire :
!Fhe pulpit scold uplifts us not ;
The wise man points to something higher.
87
% t{\
»;
ON LOOKING to GOD,
fN looking to the glorious God,
What ! bow myself down to the dust,
Like serf beneath a nabob's rod %
O let me never dread, but trust !
Can the Creatoi? joy to see
The minds that should be rising higher,
Bowed, as in fear, obsequiously 1
'll'would more, methinks, provoke his ire.
''•I^NlpC^
1
i
G
8S
BOUNDS IN THE
■ (
II
i
A PRAYER, AND AFTERTHOUGHTS.
IE Sovereign Powers who rule this human race t
So wonderful and fair our dwelling-place,
My heart is turned to you in joyful thought,
As rise the pleasures of my daily lot ;
And, still expanding in its happy state.
It seeks the greatest joys in human late :
To few or many known, whate'er they he,
let your richest blessings fall on me !
And ii 'tis sin, this prayer for more unknown,
Forgive, ye Powers, is it not frailty's moan ?
Is Hope of you ? 'Tis pleasing Hope doth speak
In whispers to my soul, and bid it seek ; .
Still seek the good supreme, still onward press,
Still further trust this beauteous life to bless —
To sail the ocean of sweet pleasures here.
In odorous zephyrs from a blissful sphere ;
To find ambrosia and the life refine.
And catch the music of a realm divine !
* * % ♦ %
Though often thus my pmyer in earnest hope,
'Twas not in vain, my soul, that thou didst grope ;
The prayer of hope— all hope for good is prayer —
Is never breathed in vain upon the air ;
LADDER OF LIFE.
89
If unto Powers Divine extend it not,
It blesses us in showers of genial thought ;
As clouds rise heavenward but descend in rain,
And waken beauties on the earthly plain.
And if 'tis true, that prayer to gods defined
Is but the action of perverted mind,
The thought of some one great pervades the whole,
And thought of great, good friends uplifts the soul.
And all that Conscience, Reason, Nature, teach.
Should guide us toward the heights our souls would
reach.
That liberal to all and sworn to fight,
Our course be true to the celestial height.
Where man may breathe an atmosphere of peuc©,
And still the pleasures of his life increase !
Love, fairest of the Powers, favors mankind ;
And ha? our noblest thought as " love " defined !
Love is ihe cream of prayer ; the gratitude
Alone, which serves to please the Powers of Good :
They may come in and sup, if love the feast.
And who gives most have most his love increased :
Their ways are all mysterious to man.
But Love controls and beautifies their plan.
90 ROUNDS IN THE LADDER OF LIFE,
DO SOMETHING. AND I90METHING GOOD.
'ITHOUT the blessed power of wealth,
What can we do when not in health ]
Though 'tis not given to all mankind
To live in health, and pleasure find
In rearing offspring trained for good.
Or stand as teachers true have stood.
Supplying minds with garnered lore, '
True wealth in this age as of yore —
Those offices as truly great
As any known to mortal state —
Though one of millions leads the force
That stops the tyrant in his course,
Kepels the wrong, and helps the right,
And brings the imprisoned forth to light,
Or gives the genius-builded plan
For helping fast-progressing man ;
Yet few are they who cannot find
Some good employment for the mind :
Kind words may by us all be given
And acts oi love make earth a heaven 1
/
*-
PIECES
"tVRITTKN IN
Prospect of Death
THOUGHTS OF GOD AND MY DESTINY.
1878.
HERE is a God, the primsil source
Of light, and life, and love ;
Who is eternally enthroned
Creations £il above !
When He commanded it should foria.
The world began its course,
And felt from the creative will
Preserving, guiding lor^
s^
PIECES WRITTEN
IN
Wlhelda were decked with flo-.er,,
F..^ swa„,,d the water, and the bird,
>V.th music filled earth's bawe«.
" And man became a living soni '-
The chief o'er all beside,
Although the loveliest of God's works
f - VVas she given for his bride f
«
Th^ir race is spread o'er every land,
^eath chill and balmy sky •
And of the thousand thousandl now
• 0»e, a frarl om,, an, I. '
I walk beneath umbrageons trees,
I look on fruit and flower •
1 loiter in the orange grove, '
Or sit in spicy bower.
I hum the words of lover's song
Or liuths of sage recall •
I think of friends, o'er nature m„^.
■Wit sorrow flavors alL
PROSPECT OF DEATH
93
Ah, weak in body, sad at heart.
Soon earth no more I'll sec
With mortal eyes, but not hereon
My life shall goah'd be.
E'en now I feel a gentle cord
Unseen, mysterious,
That draws me to the (fod of all,
• Jehovah glorious]
The centre of that Paradise,
Eternally outspread
From infinite to infinite.
The centre and the Head.
Thence whither spirits take their llight,
Thither my course can be ;
And choosing flight sublime, or rest,
In joy eternally.
mm
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Photographic
Sdences
Corporation
23 WEST MAIN STREET
WEBSTER, NY. 14580
(716) 873-4503
7,
In
<!•
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04
PtHOES WRITTEN
IN
STANZAS
" : ''"• '"°»S»<1 V d^ or thought
B»t«owIfeeb„„o,e„ype„ '
To tell my doom-fo, thee too Ute t
The .W, incuMMe disewe
Has baffled stili onj i.
« sKiij, and hope, and cam -
Ch-gesofCtaecanonl/plL^';*"'
It work, iu subtle, ceaseless wear
I ve caused the. aorro., Butn,„e„rt
■^hen hopeful, stn,„g,,., thine J^!,
I planned for each a happier part, '
''"'""«'""'^-'°'-«than.,„,,
Thon kindly ..y,,„ J.,, ^^.^^
^ehou^Wve spent in love«' bliss,"
Of all the ple«„^ ,^^^ ^^ '
The sweetest were o,„ clasp and kiss r
PROSPECT OF DEATH.
^
\
i
O for such fond and rapturous love,
As blessed us then through starry eve I
Alas ! how cruel did fortune prove —
Yet o'er the change do not grieve !
But oh forgive me, Lady dear !
And think of me as lover fond ;
But shed no unavailing tear
When for my corse the earth has yawned.
And if ehance words of compliment
To others paid e'er meet thine eye,
Remember whfl.t to thee I've sent,
And hourt of raptures long gone by 1
e yTg i R/^
I
TO MISS I H-
\S my couch, weary worn, 'mid no hearts that I
know.
My kind, cheering friend, oh ! bow sadly I miss
thee ;
But sometimes I fancy thy lips coming low
To kiss me good-night as my sister would kiss me.
96
^^fCES^ WRITTEN IN
^nd though fate hw made reason, to keeo th.
One wUh I «u,ebreathe .hile ^JZ\ IZT'
E^3 mjr form be but meet f„, .t, eoW k^ T,
O kiss me «ood-bv„ « ' '"**""* ='"i''
8'"Hl-bjeasmjr«,terwouldkisame.'
THOUGHTS ON MY L,fe.
I-ONKUnd my heart,-, fined .ith thought,
TW cannot bo told ia speech; ^
The ghost, of hopes long dead arise.
And thejr poi„t ,h,^ J ^„y ^^^ ^^^
BuUW tell me not no. as the hopes said then
Ihou canst; go on to the goal:
T-" be high as thy utmost wish has been
And satisfy thy souL"
They mock, but strangely I can smile
At the close of my blasted life »
And what- whether thus or otherwise
- »> e end the joy aud strife?
PROSPECT OF DEATH,
or
ray
06
Do I not well that I calmly smile 1
Can I knowr what seeds I have sown f
Should I curso what I cannot understand h
The great faults were my own.
I am not willing to die so young
With life-work planned but unwrought :
Yet it is some joy that at fate so he '1
Impatience can more me not.
And it is not nothing, nor can I laugh.
That ' I have no child to keep
My name in remembrance ;* but my soul
Is as calm as the angel of sleep.
A FAREWELL.
(MONTSRBT, 1880. AT DAVID JACKS*S, THB WBITER^S SECOND
HOMIC)
ND I am ready for the sea once more !
And I shall stand upon the deck at eve
To ^Ake a last farewell of this loved shore !
And stilli though bounding homeward. I shall
grieve
w
''rSOES WRITTEN lif
Anis circle vnn x»u
^arew^ell for evermore.
PROSPECT OF DEATH.
99
THOUGHTS WHEN DEATH SEEMED VERY NEAR.
1881.
HEN our beloved friends depart,
We take a bright, poetic yiew ;
But when we near that death ourselves,
We seek to feel but what is true.
A plant, an animal, a worid
Becomes an individual thing,-
Pursues its course, matures, decays,
And is returned whence it did spring.
Nothing material is lost,
But individuality
Is known to-day, to-morrow gone—
Such is the fate of such as we.
XOO
Pli:OEs WRITTSN
IN
THE OQHT AGAINST DEATH
ACE to face I have fought the foe '■
.D^-^-S over, foot of «„„„,.
r "^ ^'^^"« ^"«A AHO MTE
That follows ehan, a„d deep dist„«,
Xr?'"^ '■'•-'' «'^« 'he c
When I have found the pilWedeaae
iiappy moments; and in these
/"'mkof,o«r«,rk,„otm,o.n.
PROSPECT OF DEATH.
201
How you have blessed me many a day !
Devoted, helpful, loving care !
Through years when I was far away,
Your kindness followed everywhere.
And must I die without the power
To recompence you ought for all ?
You have my love and thanks each hour,
But they, in world so bright, how small !
O yes, this life is beautiful !
In youthful, healthful, hopeful day,
Like children sweet and dutiful,
The varied seasons round us pla}'.
No day without its joys is found.
While we have mind unclouded still :
Hearen is within us and around.
And each may brighten his at will.
(
THE END.