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T. \ ' t '^ . T. (Il T (^ Q^^^ /Lw( ^^1^-^' t^ U-^h^ Oi,A.y^h^ ^'UA.-dcy ^ O^^^ , (^ (!x<)-CA.X^a;J^^ x(2^j^x^^^^^ M -lyi^t^^ C(7 tyb-U^..^tS , ^f-^ i'-O-MS 7^ Q^Xc.0^ . ' W:? "^^^ -^^ * POEMS o- - — SmElilA. " WliLToVoi- wrung i:i tloMC To ihc humblest and tlic weakest, 'neath the all-heholdin.^ svuv That wronjf is also clone to us, and they are slaves ni )st base, Whose love of right is for themselves, and not for all the race." — Louuil. I. Soft o'er the plaijis the western winds are blowing; The war-bruised cannon thunders to the morn, Rousing and setting the hearts of millions glowing- 'Ihls is the day our liberty was born! ^ Uufurl the banners in our battles torn — The flag we have such reason" to adore — The colors that we have so proudly worn — -^rhe emblem of our freedom evermore! wfth joy, a nation's pi'.lse beats high, from shore to shore. POKMS, ir. 'I'hus in our home, but oh, in other hinds Arc there no wrongs our feelings to enHst? See where Siberia Hfts her trembling hands. Imjjloring heaven, — winding the chilly mist Around her snow-girt brow; her i)ale lips kissed By the north winds; l.er tears are ice e're yet 'I'hey leave her cheeks. J»eiiold that Nihilist — That Priestess of Desi)air! Here is a debt Man owes to man, as deep as man hath ever met: III. To free the imprisoned who have done no crime But love their country and oppression hate — Men such as have come forth in every time To die for Freedom, leaving a memory great To the advancement of the struggling State. .And o\eithi()w of Wrong; nun who have stood To challenge Tyranny and (juestion ]''ate. Sealing their i)rinciples wilh their life bleed. Who shall deny them, who accuse them to his (led? IV. Lol what a slavish death awails them here Who have but thought nor yet aspired to do. Being withheld less b)' a natural fear Than hatred of the knife that others drew Whose hearts were only sterner, not more true. In vain to the red axe their necks are bared, Yet are they doomed and executed, too; Murdered by piecemeal, yet by murder spared; — Their prayers return to them, their curses pass un- heard ! 4^ I'Ol.MS. ^ J ()\-r Ihc bleak plain, hi'iioath a northern sky W hose very smile is hitler, wanders slow The train of exiles, driven out to die A lingering death, whose bosom rendin- [huvj The sons of l.iherly may never know! Torn from their homes and kindred, snatched away In youth and manhood— erushed by the fell blow Of Tvranny in the full bla/e of day— Where are Thy llumders Jove, cans't Th-.u not bivl them stay? VT. One man the curse of millions!— let him b'.-; Why should we meddle in his dark desi,;ning? It harms us not. iMiough that we are Iree, Rejoicing in the sun above us shinnig— While millions for that very light are pin:, g: Starving in dungeons, wasting their lives away In the deep mines, on the POEMS. U VIII. Behold him as he is, the mighty Czar: Enslaving millions and himself a slave! Dimmed now the glory of that northern star! Help, Tyranny, if thou hast power to save, Thy lordliest empire totters o'er the grave — She falls — Oh, Freedom! — shrieking to the skies; (Weep not, oh, Man — thy tears are for the brave!) Hark! how she groans! — nav, 'tis Siberia cries — Vengeance, where is thy sword? Freeman, thy broth- er dies! IX. Where is the justice, the eternal rights I'hat men, since they were men, have claimed as theirs, Dreaming themselves upon the sublime heights Of Freedom, to which they are nacural heirs; And must they succumb when a tyrant dares To rob them of this better part of life"* Freedom, must they ascend the scaffold stairs For thee? Will Justice come not but through strife? Is there no cure for wrong but the assassin's knife? X. Call it not murder! (laze u])on the wrongs Of noble hearts, — the sufferings of those W'ho dared be free; their hands were laced with thongs, Because they raised their voices to op])ose Injustice; pleading, they were met with blows; t !"/ '"■' ^f*" €, 11' i^^-^ ) POEMS. $ .'• ir They cursed the insolence Oppression \<%ars, And dungeons shut them in; and when they chose To grasp through blood the freedom that was theirs', The scaffold claimed them — God; ye call them mur- derers! XL For thee they suffered, yet thy cheeks are dry; For thee they di.^d — Oh, where hath Pity flown I Suffuse with tears of gratitude the eye That but for them had wept o'er ills thine own! Thy liberty, like a bright flower, hath grown Watered by their heart's blood; thy brow had sweat In slavery such as thou hast never known, lint that they freed thee; and thou would'st forget 'I'hou owest aught, as though thou could'st not suf- fer yet! XII. They are not murderers who driven to bay Turn on their human hounds with club or knife? Beast preys on beast, but man is not the prey Of man! There is no need of endless strife — Earth yields enough for all. And if Wrong, rife. Hurries the millions into early graves; Shall they submit without a blow for life? They are not thieves who steal when hunger craves; And they who tamely die, for conscience sake, are slaves. f , Jl \ POEMS. XIII. Oppression long continued doth make slaves Of men who otherwise had made their hour Glorious with noble deeds! They are not knaves Who take by lawless force their natural dower! The sense of wrong is an almighty power, Making of men, who but a day ago Slavery, with stripes, had taught to cringe and cower Before a master, monsters, whose mad blow Kails swift alike upon the guiltless and the foe. XIV. Are they responsible? Long suffering Dulls the capacity in men to feel, Rending their bands, ferociously they spring. Drunk with new freedom and misguided zeal, Grinding the oi)pressor with a heavier heel Than that they groaned 'neath. They havebo-ne too much To weigh out justice when they draw the steel! Power is a fatal weapon in the clutch Of the unskilled; but it is Wrong hath made it such. XV. Are they responsible? The right to live Is the common ijro])erty of all the race. And must men die when they have naught to give For that they have been robbed of ? Must they face Starvation, while a few usurp the place, !■ J I !■ y *S'> w\ POEMS. Hoarding the wealth of milHons? Shall they flee Who have the power, knowing that not a trace Of want were left if all would only see, And claim their long earned wealth and natural lil>- erty? XV r. All forms of life are subject unto fear, And sink to a common level under it. • Men are not selfish; hut to see want near, And know themselves, if not forearmed, unfit To gra])j)le with it, pu/zles the weak wit, Making of hearts that otherwise had bled For everv human ill, rocks whereon split The waves of sympathy! Remove the dread, And each will serve and haste to see his brother fed! XVII. Justice is law! Injustice, though she wear The ditfnities that olden customs lend. Breathing divinity in her cold stare. Is an assassin! Laws are not an end In themselves, Init through constant change, mend An unjust edict, is no more a law Than murder, when committed to befriend A noble cause, is virtue! Though in awe Men for the time bend low beneath the ills that gnaw. POEMS. XVIII. And goad their spirits, they will not forever Be silent. 'JMme is the great friend of Right, nevelo})ing the bold hearts that deliver The enslaved })eoi)le, slowly through the night Of Fear and Ignorance; Hooding them with the light Of human love, on which they feed and grow Strong, till the hour has arrived to Tigh.t, When they come forth, and all men seem to know 'J heir leader, and surround him, armed for tlvj great blow XIX. Away, red courser Warl Awake the ])lain With thy shrill neighing; toss thy dauntless head, Exi)and thy iron ribs and breathe again The breath of Freedom, till thv awful trend ■ Shall ciuel! cold tyrants with a colder dread. Scatter their votaries. Let Oppression bleed Till the surfeited earth hath vomited — Oh, when 'tis for the millions to be freed, Man lays his bosom bare, he glories in the dca]. XX. Within his palace, girt by armed men. The tyrant crouches, trembling for the fate That must inevitably follow, when The slave awakens, and the wounded State ( I roans with oj^iiressi'^T, turning on tlie great The vengeful fires of her kindling eye, — Her bosom swelling with a deathless hate, That will, in its blind haste, all law defy, Making a howling waste under a midniiiht skv. 7 " / h^- ^ V- J TV • ODE TO THE WAR OF 1878-9. " A love of liberty with life is given, And life itself th' lesser gift of heaven." -Drxden. I. When the Bulgarian, Smarting from unavenged affronts and blows. Stood madly brooding o'er his country's woes. There kindled then Within the hearts of men, A hatred of the Oppressor and a thirst For freedom from the ills by which they were m cursed, II. With the alarm I'he Tyrant rouses from his dreams, And stretches forth his arm. The war-horse paws the earth and neighs; Upon the wind the crescent streams; J 12 POEMS. The turbans of countless warriors blaze, In the sun's hot beams; And flash and glance The naked lance, As forward move To his defence The columns dense. Of those who faithful prove. Thor. vievvest them depart, Under the soft blue sky, With a (juicker pulse in thy heart And a fiercer gleam in thine eye. 'I'rust not in thine armies, Tyrant; they May fade from thy side in a single day! Trust not in thy arms — in the cause of wrong. Though they number millions, thou are not strong! 'I'rust not in thy skill — The Right's success, Though won by fools, is none the less! Thou art insolent to-day With an army still in sight, lUit I ween thou wil't not come forth to pray When they return at night, Wounded, famished and worn; With lances broken and banners torn; Defeated, — ungeneralled, — forlorn. V III. Carnage, on the throne of War, Sits and plumes her purple wings; Rolls her bloodshot eyes To the Future's lowering skies, I'OKMS. 13 And shrilly sings Of con(iucst yet afar, And bloody bantiuetings! But, lo! the hour is near. The tread of serried men breaks on mine ear. Armed with bayonet, lance and gun, 'J'he rival hosts appeal. Now is the hour of glorious hope, the hour of das- tard fear. Cowards trembling; heroes, tried In battles lost or won, Marching to the grave With the steady step of one. Behold them, slave! Hither turn thine eyes and see How men, who were enslaved like thre. Fight for life and liberty! They come, determined one to take; And, strong and jealous one to hold: Which, their purpose shall forsake And a trampled banner fold? Answer, Freedom, thine the cause! Answer, answer with a blow; Strike for everlasting gains; Strike, and lay the tyrant low, And break thy chains On the rattling cannon's jaws! Lo! they near, they meet, they dash — Their rifles smoke, their bayonets flash — Hark, to the blazing cannon's roar, the fiery charg- er's crash! M I'OKMS. V IV. As when at sonic cold, cheerless dawn, '1 he swimmer battles with the swelling flood. The warriors of Freedom struggle on. Their hard hands red with blood. Under their feet, not a slain brother But his fall brings the triumi)h nearer. Life is dear to them — Liberty, dearer. Earth is only their mother, Freedom, their (iod. Onward, with fiercer stroke, for well ye kr.ow, i'he blow for Freedom is a desj)erate blow; .^wA they who strike must fall, or they must fell the foe! Better death in such a cause — F'allen amid true men's ai)])lause: Than life in which the better lutrt Is ruthlessly suppressed; Where hidi desires swell the heart Throbbing in a slave's breast; And noble thoughts fade unexpressed In the as])iring mind: Or, bursting like the gusty wind. Pass puri)oselcss, nor leave a trace behind- Lest be the gibbet where the bones Of he who asked so mad a boon As justice, daring to be free. Swing slowly- to the melancholy tones Of night winds, i)leading to the mntrn That cannot help but see. if V J 'I 1) I V "ir ^ ^ r w :s>^ POEMS. V. •5 Pity, are thy tears in vain? Mercy, look not at the shiin- - Scortclied and sliattcred; Riddled and battered; Torn and entangled, Disfigured and mangled: The young and the old, The faint and the bold, Dead in thousands on the plain; — And yet again With dreadful stroke The lines are broke; 'I'he rifles smoke; The bullets fly; The bayonets goad; The cannon roars; The shells explode; The grapeshot pours. And Death throws wide a thousand doors. Wilder, faster, further in, F.ouder, deeper, grows the din. Until with awful voice The cannon and the drum Loudly summon thee, their choice — Liberty! : ) i6 I 111 II I1 11— —> I'OKMS. -1 \\ > VI. Upon tliL' plain, Willi. turban cleft in twain, And cyt's to heaven turned, (llassy in prayer that heaven si)urned. Lies the van<|uished infidel — Cursing by his jiresenee still. lUiry him; cover him uj) from sight. For the darkness is his goal, And his progress-hating soul Hath winged its flight With his latest breath, 'I'hrough the doors of death, And into the land of night. The Proj^het \vee[)s to find his children slain. i>ends low to catch the murmur of des])air, The curse of hatred and the anguished prayer And we 'il)s agam. Starts, and calls his children brav On to concjuer and to crush — Do they come? Do they come? Oo they gather round to save? Silence, why so deep thy hush? Let him hear the muffled drum; I'ell him they are in the grave! Infidel, thy cries are vain — Spare thy curses, stay thy tears; There is nought for thee to gain In the oncoming years! f -I I'OKMS. Ruin galluTS o'er tlieo fast — Sword and fire will not save! Thy decay was long forecast — Time shall tread upon thy grave: I'yranny must fall at last, Though the measure of her reign He the cyc\cs of the l)ast, — Fall, never to rise again! •7 I g'j i8 POEMS. . PHILOSOPHER'S HYMN. 'J 1. Summer was with me; warm and bright All nature lay beneath my eye; The stars shone down serene at night. On the green earth from the blue sky. The north winds, coldly they have blown Darkening the sky o'erhead With wintry clouds, whose snows enfold Hill, wood and field, till all have grown White, and silent, and cold. My love was as that summer, e'er it fled I .\ cold wind blew uj)on her cheeks and she is de;ul 2. There's a dull mockery in grief. .\way, my mourning will be brief IJrief and yet deep; That will not wake forever, nor yet forever sleej); i 1> I'OKMS. 19 But tinge life with a deeper hue Of thought all the way through. Ob, wherefore do we weep, Knowing our tears are vain? We cannot mend the broken glass Of life, or to the dull earth, chain The spirit once freed! Our prayers pass On wings of holy fire to heaven — Yet do the spirits from us riven, O'er the mysterious main On which their barques at death were driven, Return to us again? W'c can but murmur, hoi)e and wait apart, Peering into the mystery with beating heart. ad. 3. All men have dreamed — such dreams, alas! As time will never bring to pass! All men have hoped — I with the rest — And lived to see their hopes depart, Like the last sunlight in the West, Vanishing impercei)tibly; Or dying rAiddenly, with the sweep Of some dark cloud into the sky. All men have loved, and fondly pressed Some cherished idol to a heart Throbbing in a proud breast! All men have wept — shall I not weep? — And felt a pang at the heart's core. And through the frame a shudder creep, 20 POEMS. ! Bending in silence o'er The form of one they loved, still in the sleep hat comes at last on all, fromout the voi( eless deep. 4. Mark how the dial shadows mo\c.' Kid Time not stay his flight. He cannot give me back the love That I have lost to-night. He cannot take the joys he gave Long since, though that which was their 1 Hath part no longer in the strife — He cannot bid them (~ease — 'I'heir memorv lingers in a urave And changeless peace. (), wherefore am 1 satl? 'I'he i)ast have I not had, And have I not to-day? — To-day that will be gone So soon — lol I am glad I 'J'herefore, let time wing on, And write uoon mv brow. lie The storv of all life, as he is writi V nt: now 5. Let Time wing on — the past with all Its golden store is mine. Scenes vanished reappear at call; I'OEMS. 21 . f. 'J"he leaves of long-gene autun^.ns fall Again; the suns of summers shine In which I roamed a hai))))' boy, liearing to the wind my brow — My heart is filled with a strange joy ■ When I behold them now. He cannot take these from me, he can add A richer color only, making my heart glad. 0. Let time wing on — the future's heart Thrills like a child's at play — 'I o-morrow is the better part Of that we call to-day. The Future beckons from her bowers Sniiling; the scent of new blown flowers iMingles in her sweet breath. What though behind her Sorrow cowers In the dark robes of death? What, though The shadow of Invisible Powers l-'alls chilly on the passing hours, Tincturing the world with woe — 1 will take her fair hand, it thrills my soul With a new life that throbs towards the uncertain goal. 1J()KM^ im) lUlOKK^ HEART. I i „vaify.n,.V,e,ca„..»tfon..»y ,.,„;„, ,„.S.,,UH of change. ^^^^^^^^^^^ S > \,owrcnu,nlK-v Edward vol: ■x„.l>Uu-v, none who k.u-..vi",^u. ■■ VUU often tell a, the m-c-sKk H,„vy•dwardwoocaamlwo"ll^ A;:d sunk hean-broUen when she d-.d. . ,, '.l„.nrt was eold. She said: '■^-^'^>^>^';"l\;„,ot love you, friend/ '' Press not — i^ c anuui ^, .. Mv love will connner ,n the end, ,,. an;weved and was eon^fort.d. A'--*-^"":.^:;:t":;o:rLreves Were precious stones, ne He held (believing women l.r.ze The giver, if the gift be ruh,) J. V > POEMS. 23 And parting in the evening, kissed Her !..ind, and slipped it on her wrist. But she undid tlie cl isp, and pressed The gift into his hand again, And said : " I do not love you — best You keep it, Edward, until then." There is a love tliat strong men know — A fire of the heart — a glow; Warm, inextinguishable, slow. And such was Edward's love. Each day She saw him enter at the gate, And wished him, though she could not hate His ]>resence, fifty leagues away. In his calm eyes and voice she read The love he bore for her; and said: 'Twere best you come not, when you know I cannot love you." *' Even so," He answered, " I would dwell away. But cannot live unless I may Behold your face from day to day." But when again he came, within Her room she hid, and locked the door; And said, " I will not see him more. Lest bv persistency he win." Then threw her.self upon her bed And wept and wished that she were dead; And smiled that he should make her weej); And hated him, and fell asleep. wr- r* I •- 24 POEMS. ! ; And after that her heart was changed; And daily did she watch and wait His coming at the garden gate, And felt no more her love estranged, But chid him if he tarried late. And Mary loved him more and more As weeks went by, and wondered much That she had failed to see before What others saw, the worth of such A love as his; and sometimes thought That Edward must remember how Her heart had turned from him; but nouglu He spake, or said " What matler now? My kisses are upon thy cheek, 'I hy lips are mine; so let us speak Of love, and be the past forgot." Twice did the summer come and go; Twice were the bare fields clad in snow: And all that time upon a bed Of sickness lay the patient wife Of he who loved her more than life. And when the leaves again were shed. And snow the cold hills mantled o'er, Fair Mary's spirit ])assed away; And Edward sorrowed day by day. For her whose face he saw no more. There is a grief that strong men feel. Keener than the thrust of steel — .\ wound that balsams cannot heal. \- c I'or.Ms. J. And such was Edward's grief. The day Was mournful with the memory Of her who had gone lience to be At rest; and when at night he lay Upon his couch, his soul looked throuuh The brooding darkness, out into 'I'he unknown, and the lonely hours Were fraught with tears and prayers addressed To (lod; but the Invisible Powers Made answer none — there was no rest. ^■r Oh I th.e in^^atiable yearning Of a heart that hath lost its mate! And, oh, the agony of learning To love in hopelessness, and wait! AH Edward's thoughts were with the dead, And daily in the morning hours He went to strew her grave with flowers. Men looked on him and said: " His heart is broke." And when they passed And saw him there from day to day, '1 hey came in course of time to say: " Upon the grave we'll llnd him dead Sometime;" and so it was at last, For when the leaves again were shed — The third time since their wedding day He turned not from her grave away At noon; and when the sun had set, They looked, and lo! he tarried vet. n 11 26 POEMS. 'Then they approached him, saying, " Sir. The night is cold — 'tis time .you seek Your home." lUit Edward did not s|)cak. And one put out his hand to stir Mim, lest he slept, and starting, said: " Even as we feared — the man is dead." 1. One narrow grave contains their dust That long ago hathmingled there. Their faithful souls are with the just In heaven, where neither grief or care Can reach them more. Or, if the\ must Forever sleep, still are tliey blest Within thy walls, Dark House of Rest — \Vhere few whose loxe was true and deej) As Edward's, of thy Miillions, sleep. \ 1 Cv u POKMS. LABOR. 27 \ i Hark! Labor begging on the street Or fettered to a tyrant's feet, Compelled in bitterness to eat The proffered crust of Capital. Shrieks o'er the native eagle's scream, Where is our justice? Must we deem Our liberty a hollow dream — The phantom of a carnival? Too long hath Capital oppressed! Too long hath Labor groaned for rest. Cursing within her bleeding breast The dagger of Monopoly! Must tears forever wet her bread? A stone the pillow 'neath her head, By cowards bound, by tyrants bled. And scourged with woes of penury? 2H POEMS. w Hark, hov,- she cries! Her struggling l)reath Pathetic with the ring of deatli. Kxpiring piteously beneath 'I'lie iron heel of C'apital! Awake, proud people! who were !)orn As free, untrammeled as the morn — And blow for blow, and scorn for scorn. Shall ring immortal to her call. United in the hour of need. Strike now and let oi)pression bleed! Wrench now the sword from social greed And individual tyranny! Throw ])arty politics aside, No more let enmities divide; By common wants and sufferings tried. Move out and on to victorv. Wrong must succumb! The right, alone. Is heir to an eternal throne! And every tear and every groan Wrung from oppressed humanity. Is but another polished gem For her immortal diadem; When time at last has gathered them Into that crown of brilliancy. I'OKMS. 29 THE BALLAD OF BED BOB. V A youth, (luite a youth, who was known as Red Bob ^ On account of his hair (which was rather a pity),' To fortune aspired, but, alas, for said Bob- He found there were scores like himself in the city. So he thought, as he pictured the things that might be, ^ " My purse and my patience are not everlasting; There's nothing but want on the far side of me. And the truth is, I never took up well with fasting. " A bench in the park is an unpleasant bed, And that more especially in the wet weather; And to live, like a poet, on water and bread—' Well, it's tough, kind of tough, take it all together. ^o I'OEMS. u " I'm willing to handle a pen or a spade; There's no use relying on luck — it's a bubble: I'm not of the stuff of which beggars are made; I'm honest — perhaps that's the cause of my trouble." (Which belief, if applied to the men of to-day, Would suppose them to be very cheerful.) It never Occurred to our hero to take it that way Till he fell to indulging in " yet " — and " how- ever " — since nothing appeared, he resolved on a ])lan, Excused by the state of his purse and the season. (A man will be honest as long as he can, And failing, is sure to alight on a reason.) Accordingly, buying a fail weather friend, And the use of his office, in case he should need it. He borrowed a name, an advertisement penned, And put into j.'rint, that the blindest might read it Now this was the notice: " Here's something for all Who are sick of the wearisome toil of inditing: Send a dollar to me at my office, or call, And I'll teach you the latest improvement in writing. "I'll teach you to write without ink, unthoidt pen; Send a dollar along — the sooner the better. i 'rfV in It POKMS. 3> My oiYivc is o])cn for business at ten; i^ut it's just as convenient to teach you by letter." A youth wasinstal.V,! in 'he oflice to say ("A youth, quite a youth,") to the numerous callers, That the gentleman's business had called him awav But they might as well leave their addresses and (h>lh; dollars. \v )n. It. It. nil in i 'rfV And the i)ostman dej)osited during the day A huntlred and fifty or sixty odd letters; And liob, the said youth, put'the monev away. And coolly sat down to unfasten his fetters.' Now, what do you think was the answer he wrote, The principle taught them, or what the utensil"^ He sfmply to each of them posted this note: " Vou blockhead, you see you're to write with a j)encil." •MORA I,. Ah! what was the end, after such a beginning? What could it be, if not arrayed in a wrong dress? Ihe rascal grew impudent, sinning and sinning And was sent-" to Sing Sing "-no! to Congress POEMS. THAT SERMON. Five minutes past eight, and the preacher not here: The papers said sharj) — disappointed, I fear I " A heaven-born orator," the announcement said; " A prophet, a g' jat theologian." it read; The house was crowded, not a" vacant seat, And still a hundred or two on the street. ■ J' ■I I A warm summer evening; a (piarter past eight I I wonder how long he expects us to wait? It's reall) annoying; my patience won't last \>ry long, I'm convinced, for it's rufming out fast; Hut then such a treat; it is worth the delav-^ One don't hear an clocjuent man every day. Twenty minutes j)ast eight. Ah! here he is now — A murmur of pleasure, applause and a bow — A plain-looking man; but the audience said, " What a very odd face, what a wonderful head." POEMS. 33 I'hcy sang. He arose; and throughout the great hall The silence was such you might hear a ])in fall. His text I forget. JUit that makes little odds, ill texts and all sermons j^ertain to the gods, into his subject, anon did he pause To i)icture the beauties of si)iritual laws. He spoke of the messengers sent us in love, And lifted his hands to the ceiling above. (Sage gesture.) The audience rolled up their eyes. And saw ajiparitions sui)erl) in the skies. He smiled, and their faces were lit with a smile; Looked sad, wi})ed his eyes, and they wept for awhile; Then he stormed, and his eloquence took them so well. They bent in their seats to the mastering s})ell; On his words hung enra})tured, and murmured when o'er, "We never heard anything like it before." Looked sage and looked sideways, as much as to say, That's what we call preaching; that, that is the way." .\ ^•A. The plate was passed round — the collection was just To defray cash expenses, and not run on trust; And the services were about to be brought to an end ■^^ I 34 POEMS. T'T: or the house to their eloquent With the thanks ot mc friend, When he came .0 the .>ont^ ^^^^ ^^^^^^ , fnenS the announcement 1 ought ^Excuse me my fr e«M .^ ^^.^^^^^ f„,„ „v To have made at the lirsi, . „ .■".'" Y^^u «iU be disappointed to find It IS this: Vou «! ^^ to-mglit The preacher «ho «a to b - ^ .^ ^.„,„ Has not yet arrived; and th ^^^^ ^^ ^^^. That some one should speak, t !'''»'"• , „f mv presence, they prayed SO, happening to Vno.vo.ny^.^^, , „,.,ed, ■Phat I would ''ddr-- > ,^^, ,,„ae. Although 1 »-^" \, ;: ,t\vithot,t any extension. And now, tny dear liitna., 1 thank you—" „ ^jj^j,, attention," Hemtended to say,^^ ,. ^j^^^ ,,^„,, «„t the shuffle <;^^^;\;^^^' „„us to an ill-natured Drought his good naturcu '""'■ ,. the door were soon clean out of Those nearest the oou «'Sh'- ^. • tiiecity that night; And swear they were "°' '" '".^ j„ ^,,d of Cod," •^"<»''^^^''f:;"°:t:dottLghtbyac.od!" Now grumbled Indcc , iu.disguised frown. And the 6entlem.an sa d, wttlr ^ ^^^^^_^.^ .. I knew from the first he w ) , messing Btnlwouldnot .stt;rbany ;ehy^ ,_^^^^^^ My opinion In short, they to blessing. V w POEMS. 35 They sang not a hymn, for the choir were gone; The gallery was empty, the organ alone. They prayed not a prayer, but with common con- sent, The preacher said ** Ah!" and the audience went. -o^^SS^XK' DEAD MEN. V Dig up the bones of dead men! They have no right to sleep With monuments to lions, whom Time hath proven sheep. Dig up the bones of dead men! Life is too sore a fight, To yield the victor's laurel to any stolen might. Dig up the bones of dead men! Tear off the wreaths, and then When man beholds them naked, let him adjudge them men: Heed not the shallow sentiment that holds the jl weak in awe — Truth is above all sentiment! Right above all law! :/> I'oEM; lENCK PHILOSOPHY. 1,,,^S„ ANIONS- IHK lAl ' POLITICIAN. J ■ When I .as young my parents sa.d I was a little loon, ,>,ecause I sat upon the fence A-ga.ing at the moon. U was a high and ragged feno. That shut the orchard round, -,he grape-vmes grew along the rad>. And trailed upon the ground. The apple trees behind it rose; And where I used to sit , • 1 ^ ,^ Snnrhes spread al)o\t- 'Iheir laden orancnc> r.^ And kindly shaded it. I Unew naught of the world then: I had but little sense; \nd yet my heart was always glad A-sitting on the fence. M y\ % |i f %. rOLMS. All, me! how I have changed sine c I was a boy at play! The innocence that cheered me then The years luive borne away. They gave me other, rii)cr joys, And feelings more intense; lUit still, somehow, they left me A-sitting on the fence. And yet I always think, when men In fierce coml)at divide, A man is safer on the fence Than down on either side. To smile on both, to assist appear. But never ciuite commence; -And, till they settle it, remain A -St raddle of the fence. So few of us, I grieve to think. Are brave enough to own The right, and stand uncowering. Unaided and alone. M With power armed beside her. And Moloch at her heels, .\ man may be a Knight of Truth And boast the pride he feels; I'OK.MS. l)Ut when in rags, and help will conic We cannot tell from whence, 1 think, like most, considering all, I'll just get on the fence. II if ; f Ml So little can we trust our friends; 'J'o change we are sc; j)rone — An honest man. can scarcely call The smallest uood his own. And when a grave c onundrum Defies his teeble sense. What better can a fellow do Than get astride the fence? It is a great convenience, .And )et how mean the joy — It is not now the same as when I sat on it, a hoy. I-'or though I turn mv eves above, As in the years gone by, '1 he s])ectacles I wear obscure The beauties of the sky. 'I'ime was when every twinkling star Could wake within my breast A ])ure emotion; but their beams Now leave mv soul unblessed. 1 I : \i V / w I'OKMS. Vvt f)t"t when I look backwards riirouiih mcmorx's radian". Icnsc, I think myself a hoy again, .V-siitintr on the fence. :.') The moon is shininLr in the sk\-; 'hhe fields are si celling" round: The ri\er murmurs far awa\- — I love its plaintive sound I s And sittintf lliere I revel In joys that onh' seem, Tntil a sigh that cf)mes unsought Awakes mc from m\- dream. And still I sit where I have sat. And still thev jjass awav — The years that stole mv ra\en locks And turned mv whiskers urav. So he it. \Vhen at last arrives The hour for passing hence, In sooth, I may he just as safe. A -sitting on the fence. My sole recjiiest: that when m_\ friend> Are clamoring for mv i)elf, '1 hey let my jaded memory sit Where 1 have sat, mvself. masar ^i^nff^ffSW I'OK.MS. Meantime in every eaiise niv [)ra\ er Is for the side of right, I''or, though my carcass keeps llie feiu e, My soul is in the I'lglit. And I'll reniark, hy way, to tliose Who llounder in the strife, That it is comfortable h.ere — And lliat's the ])oint in life. I J i. THE W0U1.D. AS VIKWKI) nV A S'l'IXC. \ MAN. (iAer\' ir.an sees tlie world through his own soul.) A stingy world is this world of ours, No matter how we take it; A stingy world, for, h}' all the powers. They're stin-'X' men that make it. The stingy merchant sells us I-iquors tinadulterated; While his stingy notice tells us To believe the lie just stated. The stingy druLrtiist bills us For his stingy j)atent swill; And the stingy doctor kills tis With his stingy little pill. ; I POKMS. Tlic Stingy oyster sees us, And leaves the stingy plate; While the stingy lawyer fees us At an anti-stingy rate. I'he stingy i)arson i)reaches, Whining to the stingy i)e\v; And the stingy deacon reaches l''or a stingy dime or two. 41 ^ 1.) The stingy landlord (render, In common justice, to him — The devil — what is due him,) is sometimes feebly tender. If the times are not too hard. Hut the stingy money-lender, Never for a moment tender. Charges interest bv the vard. Stingy wives (uphold us justice. There are stingy husbands, too) If we were not stingy, trust us, Would proceed at once to " bust " To adorn their forms and faces With innumerable graces, Leathers, feathers, silks and hu-es; The bills for which would break a Mechanic hourly, shake a Retired judge, and make a Mill ionaire look blue. us, If ^' * 42 I'd i: MS. TIiL' stiiiL^y ])()liti(Man, On the c\c (tf an election, With polilical alYecUon, Round your hajiitation lingers, Offers \()u hi> stingy finj^ers, 'i'ells _\()u !hit his aims are _L!;l(»rious, •'i'hat his purposes a.re sipiarL-; When \'ou hrini;' him olf vi(torir)us. And he ha.^ secured tlie mission, lie would see \ou to perdition — \'es, and kindh' help \ou there. i A stinii'N' \\r)ild is tins world i'>\' our^. No matter how we take it, .\ stin;j,y world, for h\- all the powers, Thex're stinirx' men that make it. Robbed l)y the milkman, robbed b\ t 'I'he butcher, the grocer, Tlie cabinet- maker, 'l"he gravi- undertaker, The tramp and housebreaker, 'i"he weak and the lu-althv, The ])oor and the wealthy; — le h;iker, C.reat leavens: all i^radcs. Professions and trade? )bl e roDhuij: us; Oh, sir, we iro, sir, An Wherever To hovel or hall — "I is \ain to sa\- no, sir — We're robbed bv them al rut I sometimes smile — it is all so strange — When I come to think of it, Hill, How little our spirits know of change On either side of the hill. The laughter of vouth and the tears of a!j;e Are one and a simple part Of life's short story, writ on the page Oi the changing, yet changeless heart. We are still the same whatever we do; Our mirth and our sorrows blend; We are only repeating ourselves anew From the first of life to the end. . -•fcs^i*!*"' !HG^5?5^'^^??S~r*! }' 46 POKMS. 'rhough my hairs are white I could ride to-day With a heart as lithsome, Hill, As it was in the days when the old handsleiifh Was the bullv of the hill. o:-«>os EMERSON. Life's day of labor hath its night, when Death nids weaiy nature sleep and l)e at rest, At rest fore\er, yea. at rest forever I For though that slet;]) be but a change of waking. Vet is that wakin