>^^^^ g?^ Haryey RiCB •>:> ® ^. <3) ® ^ ® ® ® ® ® (I) ® ® ® ^.^«^ (J) ® ® ^.* «> 00'0^0 ® ( ® ^:^ ( m ^ ^ ' ' ^' wmm & :^^ ^ N" yonder swelling height, ''^ ^ With ivied oaks and ^_ cedars crowned, — \ !l MOUNT VERNON SELECT POEMS ^ HARVEY RICE Jlllustrateti lEtittioix BOSTON LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS NEW YORK CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM i88^ \ Copyright, 1882, Bv HARVEY RICE. CONTENTS, PAGE Mount Vernon 7 Unwritten Music 19 The Moral Hero 21 Footsteps 24 Give us Light 26 Recognition 28 Who is She ? 29 The Stream of Time 31 Other Days 23 Morning 38 Warren's Appeal 40 Heaven on Earth . . . 42 The Visionary 43 The Vain Request 45 The Classic Land 47 Song of the Shell 49 Long Ago 51 The Mystery of Life 53 The Celestial Visitant 59 The Voyager , .61 Sympathies 63 The Rainbow 65 Departed 67 The Far West . .68 Career of the Cloud 71 The Queen of Night 73 The Old Year 75 To A Poetess 76 The Zephyr 78 Hereafter 80 3 4 CONTENTS. PAGE A Particular Star 82 Summer 84 Far Away 85 Wild Flowers 86 The Inner Life 88 Voice of the Pine 90 Hymn to the Sun 92 Innocence 95 Enshrined 96 The Birth of Beauty 98 Her Last Adieu 100 Vernal Whispers 102. In Memoriam 104 Song of the Tempest 109 Man Ill Ancestral Portraits 113 The Realm, of Thought 122 The Music of the Rain 123 Aspiration 125 Shadows 126 A Vision of Light 129 Laura 131 Song of the Dime 134 The Autumn Leaf 137 Laying the Corner-Stone 139 Inscrutable 141 Ever Vain 142 Tacit Language . 143 A Conceit . . .145 Lilies 147 Home of my Youth . , 148 More Space , . . . . . . . . . 154 Among the Hills 156 Freedom 159 Old Folks' Festival 172 Notes 177 MOUNT VERNON SELECT POEMS. MOUNT VERNON. On yonder swelling height, With ivied oaks and cedars crowned, Where Freedom's banner floats in light, And every whispering sound Breathes of the past, 'tis consecrated ground.^ Pilgrim ! ascend the steep, And there, with true and feehng heart. On Vernon's brow deep silence keep ; Ay, let the tear-drop start While proud yet hallowed thoughts a balm impart. Nature hath marked the spot Where sleeps the great, the good, the wise, . Entombed, yet ne'er to be forgot : Ah ! there the hero lies. The man of mighty deeds and high emprise. A calm hillside retreat, Soft mirrored in Potomac's tide, 7 SELECT POEMS. The spot he chose, at Vernon's seat, 'Mid wild flowers scattered wide, And pleasant groves that wave in native pride. Though but a lowly shrine,^ There grateful hearts delight to pay Homage to Freedom's son divine, The mightiest in the fray, The mightiest in his country's darkest day. True worth like his disdains The marble's proud emblazoned chart. And trusts to lore which still remains Engraved upon the heart When crumbling fall the monuments of Art. But turn where stands the halP In which the chieftain dwelt of yore. And view, still gleaming on the wall. The armor which he wore. With belt and plume, and sabre stained with gore. Enter with reverent brow That old, unguarded mansion proud; And tread the hearth that's hallowed now, Lightly, as you unshroud The silent past with heart that beats aloud. MOUNT VERNON. And, with the memories dim Which gather round that sacred hearth, Recall the lessons taught by him Who godlike trod the earth, And blessed her sons, and gave a nation birth,— The patriot calm, yet bold. Whose glorious deeds will ever shed Renown upon those days of old, When he to battle led The stern and true who bravely fought and bled. 'Twas then, in counsels grave, That statesmen, noblest of the land, Their solemn pledge to Freedom gave. And boldly took their stand In her defence, united heart and hand. And still, unmoved by fear, Shall Freedom's sons maintain the right; Nor marvel, though the rolling year Disclose to man new light To cheer his faith, and give him moral might. How oft with placid eye Has he, whose spirit awes us still, lO SELECT POEMS. Stood where we stand, and viewed the sky, The river, vale, and hill. And heard the forest-bird its anthems trill ! And down the vale that sweeps In graceful curves to ocean's tide. How calm the bridal landscape sleeps. While zephyrs playful glide, Fanning the flowers that blush in sinless pride ! And see encircling rise, Like sentinels to guard the scene, Mountains half lost in magic skies. With pleasant vales between, Where Beauty, cradled, wears a smile serene. Far seen, in all her pride, The Federal City lifts her spires, Where avenues are long and wide, And men with large desires Aspire to place, impelled by patriot fires ! In all her wide domain, Say, where has Nature lavished more To please the eye, the heart to gain. Or bid the fancy soar, Than here upon Potomac's peaceful shore? MOUNT VERNON. ii 'Twas here, retired, he sought A tranquil life, to love endeared, — He who the stern resolve had wrought. In days of gloom uncheered. To strike for human rights, though traitors sneered. And here at eve, I weet, Beneath the moonbeam's mellowed ray, Oft shadowy ranks of warriors meet, Who triumphed on that day When host met host, and heroes carved their way : Scarred men, in warlike guise. Whose hearts still cling to memories dear; Veterans, whose bosoms heave with sighs For him whose bright career Inspired the oppressed with hope, and kings with fear. Perchance a stalwart form Amid those ranks, high-plumed, is seen, — Brave Lafayette, who shared the storm, Son of a chme serene. Whose love for Freedom's Land no power could wean. When last he here surveyed His chieftain's tomb in life's frail hour. 12 SELECT POEMS. How swelled his breast to grief betrayed, While tears with magic power ^ In silence fell, like dewdrops on the flower ! Nor circumscribe your view, But scenes that still surround you greet; There rolls Potomac's tide of blue Majestic at your feet. Where busy commerce spreads her whitened sheet. In triumph o'er its wave Shall ever float our banner's fold, While voyagers point the hero's grave, And gaze with awe untold On Vernon's steep, like seer on mount of old. And here the garden cheers The heart with fruits, and flowers, and shade, Where oft, amid eventful years. The chief his steps delayed To share its charms in rich array displayed. Even yet, like Eden fair Ere innocence beguiled had erred. The garden's wealth and balmy air, With woman's whispered word, Enchant the saddened soul that's deeply stirred. MOUNT VERNON. 13 When erst the hero drew His battle-blade amid the wild, Braddock, to English feeling true, Spumed him as but a child, Yet rashly fell with many a victim piled. Nor dreamed the world as yet That ghttering on a stripling's breast The " star of empire " had been set ; Nor yet had dreamed the oppressed How soon that rising star would cheer the West. When Freedom's spirit woke, And blood at Lexington had flowed, Brave men flung off at once the yoke, — Allegiance long bestowed, — And flew to arms with zeal that fervent glowed. From mountain, hill, and glen, Like torrents rushed the sons of toil, — Indignant yet high-minded men, Defenders of the soil. Whose sturdy blows the oppressor could not foil. Proud mistress of the sea ! They taught thy pride a lesson wise 14 SELECT POEMS. Who o'erboard cast rich freights of tea Before thy wondering eyes, And dared thy royal stamp and tax despise. Though darker grew the day, — " A day that tried," as if by fire, "Men's souls," — yet heroes led the way. Fearless of Britain's ire. With solemn vow to triumph or expire. Musing, methinks I hear The chieftain's voice, the foeman's tread. And shout of men who knew not fear, Onward to victory led, — Our brave old sires, with Freedom's banner spread. Beneath a wintry sky, At Trenton, in that glorious fight, Oh, list the bold, triumphant cry Of Liberty and Right, Flung back from hill to hill with wild delight ! 'Mid subtle foes combined, How firm was he, that gallant one. Ordained of Heaven to bless mankind, — Columbia's noblest son, The pride of earth, the immortal Washington ! MOUNT VERNON. Sternly he led the van, The champion of his country's cause, Sworn to defend the rights of man, His country and her laws, Against a sway that half the world o'erawes. 'Twas he, and he alone, Whose skill could guide the banded few, — The few who shook a monarch's throne, — Patriots sore tired, but true; Those iron men, whose faith still stronger grew. And well they earned their fame Who fixed on Freedom's star their gaze. And fought and bled in Freedom's name, And 'mid the battle's blaze Bore off the palm, in those heroic days. Comwallis ! still thy shade Bewails, methinks, the fated hour That saw thee yield thy valiant blade A prize to sterner power, With spirit bowed, till then untaught to cower. Nor sought he self-renown Who scourged the foe, and held the sway; 15 1 6 SELECT POEMS. But now, from proffered kingly crown,® With scorn he turned away, And moral virtue hailed her proudest day. Yet his were honors high, — The highest which the world bestows; And calm, within a peaceful sky. His star resplendent rose, — Life's crowning star, triumphant in repose. And peace and plenty reigned, — Still reign to bless the brave and free : While equal rights endeared, maintained, Have linked in harmony 'he kindred States, which stretch from sea to sea. And yet, though few may dare Columbia's onward march deride, Of power o'ergrown let her beware. Her glory and her pride, As onward still she moves with fearless stride. With soul that ne'er repined, He wrought his task, who, great as true, Now bade, with admonitions kind. To power and place adieu. And, like the Roman, to the plough withdrew. /• '' - v^ '•j^ri*. ■^ ^gggg^^^a^^^^ "And, like the Roman, to the plough withdrew." — Page i6. MOUNT VERNON. 17 How vain the lofty tower/ Though reared to heaven by giant hand, To speak his praise whose matchless power Redeemed his native land, And won him fame that will through time expand ! On Vernon's rugged side, Where eagles stoop to build the nest, There let the hero, with his bride. In hallowed slumber rest; His fittest monument the mountain's crest. And there, as they advance. Let ages yet unborn of time, Warriors who strike with Freedom's lance, And men of every chme, Revere his dust, and laud his deeds sublime. Oh, may the land that's free Ne'er fall a prey to faction's blight. But with her glorious history Still blend a holier light. To cheer her sons, and guide them in the right ! Go fling upon the air, With bolder hand, her banner's flame; 1 8 SELECT POEMS. And still preserve with jealous care Her honor and her fame, Nor fear to lead the v/ay with heaven-bom aim. Wide as the world is wide Shall freedom's blessings yet extend; And man, whate'er his cHme, confide In maa, as friend in friend, And pride of power her errors wisely mend. And sunward still shall soar Columbia's eagle bathed in light; While yet her sons, schooled in the lore Of justice, truth, and right, Shall worship at her shrine on Vernon's height. SELECT POEMS. UNWRITTEN MUSIC. There's music, music, everywliere, Wliich hills and vales repeat ; Anthems that linger on the air, And in the calm retreat. There's music in the zephyr's sigh, And in the breath of flowers, And in the still small voice that's nigh, And in the summer hours. There's music in the lyric pine. And in the rustling leaf. And in the prayer at holy shrine, And in the joy of grief. 19 SELECT POEMS. There's music in the waterfall, And in the song of bird, And in the cricket's chirping call. And in a kindly word. There's music in the surging sea. And in the whispering shell. And in the wind that's ever free, And in the marriage-bell. There's music in the bosom's thrill. And in the heart's true beat. And in the twilight on the hill, And tread of angel-feet. There's music in the golden spheres, That chant the hymn of time ; And in the bright celestial years. Eternal and sublime. 'There's miisic in the waterfall." — Page 20. THE MORAL HERO. THE MORAL HERO. With heart that trusteth still, Set high your mark; And, though with human ill The warfare may be dark, Resolve to conquer, and you will. Resolve ; then onward press, Fearless and true : Believe it. Heaven will bless The brave, and still renew Your hope and courage in distress. Press on, nor stay to ask For friendship's aid : Deign not to wear a mask. Nor wield a coward's blade. But still persist, though hard the task. Rest not : inglorious rest Unnerves a man. SELECT POEMS. Struggle : 'tis God's behest. Fill up life's little span With godlike deeds ; it is the test, — Test of the high-born soul And lofty aim ; The test in History's scroll Of every honored name. None but the brave shall win the goal. Go act a hero's part, And in the strife Strike with a hero's heart For liberty and life : Ay, strike for Truth ; preserve her chart. Her chart, unstained, preserve ; 'Twill guide you right : Press on, and never swerve, But keep your armor bright. And struggle still, with firmer nerve. Error must fall at last; It is ordained : Old creeds are crumbling fast; But, ere the victory's gained, Heroes must strike, — the die is cast ! THE MORAL HERO. 23 What though the tempest rage ; Buffet the sea; Where duty calls, engage ; And, ever striving, be The moral hero of the age. 24 SELECT POEMS. FOOTSTEPS. I HEAR upon the chamber-stair Her footsteps hght, Falling like music on the air At morn and night. And oft upon the parlor-floor Ingrained with flowers I hear the step I've heard before In happier hours; And, in the chair that's vacant now, Oft think I see The sainted one with radiant brow Who visits me. Yet when I rise, and turn to greet That angel fair, She disappears, with smile that's sweet, Upon the air. FOOTSTEPS. 25 And yet her footsteps oft I hear At mom and eve ; And in her whispers, seeming near, I still believe. Nor yield the faith I've cherished long. Heartfelt and true. But, with a hope that still grows strong. My faith renew. In woman's smile, in woman's tear, And heart when given. Star-like there glows a love sincere That's born of heaven. 26 SELECT POEMS. GIVE US LIGHT. Ay, give us light, more light, to cheer Our footsteps onward still : Welcome the star whose bright career Doth fling o'er vale and hill Light, — more light ! Methinks I hear the toiling mass. Who sweat to pamper pride, Whisper with murmuring lips, " Alas ! And why are we denied Light, — more light ? " Oh, list ! how like the startling wave That breaks on Ocean's shore The voice that wakes the mental slave. Who hardly dares implore Light, — more light ! True men are they, with lips unsealed, Men of unfettered mind, GIVE US LIGHT. 27 Who seek the light as 'tis revealed In Nature's teachings kind, — Light, — more light ! While Truth her glorious banner waves From high celestial walls, Strong men will rise e'en from their graves To catch the light that falls, — Light, — more light 1 28 SELECT POEMS. RECOGNITION. In the sky afar, afar, Where spirits dwell, I see a lone, lone star. And feel its spell. The holiest star of night, Pensive it glows : I know, by its mild, mild light. It shares my woes. I see, in its saintly smile And radiant brow, A seraph that knows no guile, And renew my vow. WHO IS SHE? 29 WHO IS SHE? Oh ! they say she's the belle of the town : If you doubt it, I'll wage you a crown That ere long you will rue it. When you meet her, beware ! for she can. If she choose, charm a sensible man, 'Tis so pleasant to do it ! With the blush of the rose on her cheek, She affects to be modest and meek: Ah ! I fear you will rue it. With the flash of her dark hazel eye She extorts from the gazer a sigh, 'Tis so pleasant to do it ! When she flings to the zephyr the fold Of her scarf, with its purple and gold, Look aside, or you'll rue it ! Like a seraph just dropped from the skies, She attracts by her charms roving eyes, 'Tis so pleasant to do it ! 30 SELECT POEMS. You may meet her whenever you please, At the rout, ever gay and at ease ; But tal^e care, or you'll rue it ! She'll entangle your heart in her smile, And for mischief she'll tease you a while, 'Tis so pleasant to do it ! Though enchanting her wit with its spice, Still her heart is as frigid as ice : . He who weds her will rue it. So be careful, nor sigh for the bliss ; Yet you may, if you can, steal a kiss, 'Tis so pleasant to do it ! But there's danger in taking a sip From the dewdrop that moistens her lip ; Who attempts it will rue it : For in truth she is skilled in her art ; And she boasts, when she breaks a brave heart, 'Tis so pleasant to do it ! She delights to be weaving a snare, And to feast on the breath of despair: , Who disputes it will rue it. Let her flirt till as old as her aunt, Then, desiring to wed, .find she can't, 'Tis so pleasant to do it ! THE STREAM OF TIME. 31 THE STREAM OF TIME. It rolls in grandeur lone, — The stream of Time ; And on. its shores lie strown The wrecks of every clime, — Fragments of ancient art, Temples and towers ; And tombs that still impart Lessons of life's brief hours. Yes, empires proud and vast. That rose unchecked, The mightiest of the past. Have on that stream been wrecked. And there, at unknown date. Have perished names Renowned of old and great. Plumed lords and jewelled dames. 32 SELECT POEMS. And, cast like worthless weeds Upon the wave, There cherished hopes and creeds Have found a nameless grave. Yet onward and sublime Will ever glide The silent stream of Time, That bears us on its tide. And we, in turn, shall leave Sad wrecks behind, — The wonders we achieve. All save immortal mind. OTHER DAYS. 33 OTHER DAYS. Though dear to me are Western charms, — Rivers and lakes with outstretched arms, And prairies broad and free, — Yet dearer still my native land, Her mountains, vales, and ocean strand. With old, tried friends to grasp my hand, And welcome me. Yet mine 'tis not, undimmed, to find The hearth where glowed affections kind, 'Mid hopes too bright for tears; Those purer joys which thrilled my breast, And gave to life its sweetest zest, With her whose lip maternal blest Mine earliest years ! Still unassailed by ruthless hand, Oh, let that dear old mansion stand. Though strangers tread its hearth ! . And spare that elm, unbowed, unbroke,.. 34 SELECT POEMS. Which still survives the lightning's stroke, Crowning the hill, where curls the smoke As at my birth. Not far away, 'mid hillocks green, The lettered stone, moss-grown, that's seen, Watchful o'er sacred dust. Brings back to me the faded past, — A mother's love, and kiss, — the last, — With lessons kind, to which steadfast I cling and trust. With lingering step, and heart sincere, There let me drop a filial tear. In tears still seek relief. Like Ocean's surge that restless heaves, My days roll on ; yet Memory weaves Her twilight o'er the past, and leaves A balm for grief. Though mine's a grief no balm can heal, I love old memories, and still feel Their magic o'er me flung. But list ! from steepled church I hear The old town-clock, deep-toned and clear. That knells the hours from year to year With iron tongue. OTHER DAYS. 35 And there, adown the vale, I see A noisy group, low roof, and tree, — The spot to which I hied In summer's heat and winter's snow, A satchelled lad, who cared to know Little of books, nor much, I trow, That's wise beside. There ghdes the brook, whose flowery bank Was oft the scene of many a prank And feat attained at school j And, like a spectre, near the hill There stands the same old clicking mill. Where many an idle urchin still Disturbs the pool. A truant there, beneath the spray How oft I've angled all the day, Or gathered pebbles rare ! Ay, waded half way to the chin To build the crib, and drive them in, — The startled brood, with silver fin, Shy of the snare. When woods were tinged with Autumn's hue, Oft o'er the hills I've brushed the dew, Ere flashed the morning's sun, 36 SELECT POEMS. In search of treasures shaken down By wind and frost, — nuts white and brown; Or sought, in chase of game, renown With mimic gun. Around those haunts I loved so well When but a child there breathes a spell, — A spell that charms me yet, — The stately elm 'neath which I played. The frowning steep and wizard glade, And, more than all, the wild cascade With jewels set. And yet there is one hallowed shrine Around which holier memories twine, — Twine with a name that's dear; The name of one that's sainted now. The nymph who heard mine earliest vow With moistened eye, and sunny brow, And listening ear. But where are now those happy years, Too blest to last, which time endears, And faithful hearts embalm? Those years, the mirthful and the free, Alas ! are lost for aye to me, — Lost in the past, the dark Dead Sea, Where all is calm ! OTHER DAYS. 37 Yet o'er that sea will ever flow Heart-touching whispers, sweet and low, Ay, sanctified to him Who loves the past, yet hails afar The seraph Hope, on golden car. Bearing her lamp, a twinkling star, — Twinkling, though dim. 38 SELECT POEMS. MORNING. Like a nymph from an ocean of pearls, Awaking she flies to the hills, And smiles at her face and her curls As seen in the mirror-like rills. Her mantle she wove from the mist Ere her glittering flight had begun, And the bracelet that gleams on her wrist She wrought from the rays of the sun. And the diamonds that flash in her hair She plucked from the stars of the night ; And, with lips breathing health on the air. She kisses the flowers with delight. And the flowers, clad in purple and gold. Her favors return with a smile, And with love all too pure to be told, And with heart that is guiltless of guile. MORNING. 39 And, begemmed with the dews of the sky, She descends to the silvery lawn. And surveys with a bright placid eye The splendors that glitter at dawn. And she lingers till awed by her sire. Whose eye, burning eye, seems to chide ; Then hastes from his gaze to retire With a blush like a beautiful bride; Yet returns with the dawn of each day, Ere her sire re-ascends to his throne. And, delighted, still sprinkles his way With the jewels that flash in her zone. 40 SELECT POEMS. WARREN'S APPEAL. [at bunker hill.] Comrades ! they come, — The invaders, fierce and strong ! Hear ye that trump and drum? They come to do us wrong ! Shall we to tyrant power succumb? No \ calm and still Await the advancing foe ; And then, with iron will, Deal death at every blow, And wrap in lurid flame the hill ! Forsake it not, — That standard of the free ; Nor let dishonor blot Its matchless chivalry : Where'er it waves, defend the spot ! Our country, wives And children, the strong ties WARREN'S APPEAL. 41 That bind us, hearts and lives, Demand that we despise Danger and death, while hope survives. Rather than yield, Let us resolve to die Upon the battle-field, Trusting to God on high, Who is our buckler and our shield. 42 SELECT POEMS. HEAVEN ON EARTH. There's a heaven on earth — A heaven that's mine — In the gift of her heart Whose love is divine. There's a light in her eye, That wins without art ; And there's grace in her step, And joy in her heart. When the heart blends with heart. Confiding and true, Then on earth there's a heaven. With joys ever new. THE VISIONARY. 43 THE VISIONARY. A CHILD of genius, — born, Not bred in schools, — He scorns the world's proud scorn, Though ranked with fools. And holds a converse that's refined With Nature, and with Nature's mind. Nor does he delve with those Who delve for gold : But, rapt in calm repose, Like seer of old. He walks with God the stellar deep, Where tides of light unbounded sweep ; And wonders why were made The earth and stars, Whose music rolls, unstayed. In golden bars ; Nor strives to quench the subtle fire That wakes his soul to high desire. 44 SELECT POEMS. Though all that man calls great Should he attain, It would not, could not, sate His burning brain; For he would reach the source of light, And share, enthroned, the Almighty's might Thus lost in thought that's free, And manifold. He ever drifts at sea, — Starless and bold ; Yet cannot break the imperial seal Of fate, nor life's dark myth reveal. THE VAIN REQUEST. 45 THE VAIN REQUEST. Give me the heart that's pure and warm, Whose virtues constant shine ; Give me the soul that's nobly great, Yet melts in grief with mine. Give me the rosy blushing cheek, The lip without a stain ; Give me the meekly pensive eye, Whose flash thrills every vein. Give me the sweet, responsive smile. Love's sympathy refined ; Give me an angel's graceful form, An angel's sinless mind. Ay, give me nature, spirit, fire, A gem of brilliant ray, In one who heeds my every wish. Though absolute her sway. 46 SELECT POEMS. Give me but woman thus endowed, Whose jewels virtues are, And I will worship, like a saint, So beautiful a star. But, ah ! how vain, how vain, to ask A gift so rich and rare. Since earthly bliss is but a dream, And beauty frail as fair ! THE CLASSIC LAND. 47 THE CLASSIC LAND. Go shroud thee in the mist of olden time, Amid the ruins of the past ; Go tread the templed hills of Orient cHme, And list to patriot bards, whose songs subhme Inspired, like peal of trumpet blast, The mountaineers, and woke the slumbering vales, Ere Greece was heard to pour her funeral wails. Though fallen, glorious still, O Greece, thy fate ! — Glorious 'neath centuries of night ! For thine the classic land, the ancient state, Where sprang the sister arts ; and where the great. The good, the wise, who sought the right, Have reared to ages, as they fleetly run, A proud philosophy, surpassed by none. But where are now thy beautiful and brave. Thy temples, gods, and festal games? 48 SELECT POEMS. Awe-Struck, we trace the isles that gem thy wave, And point to Athens, and revere thy grave; Yes, oft repeat thine honored names Of heroes, poets, orators, and sage. And feel thine influence still in every age. SONG OF THE SHELL. 49 SONG OF THE SHELL. I WAS born of the sea, And was rocked in its wave, And its child still would be, Though its billows may rave ! For I love to recline On the sands of its shore. Where its smile is divine, And terrific its roar ! With a lip that is red And as fresh as the dew, I repeat what is said By the ocean to you ! And I bear to the land In my bosom a pearl, A bequest from the strand Where the wild waters curl. J 50 SELECT POEMS. 'Mid the gems on the breast Of the nymph at your side, Lo, it gleams, ne'er at rest, Still a pearl of the tide ! I was bom of the sea, And was rocked in its wave, And its child still would be. Though its billows may rave ! ' When young and gay we climbed the hill And gathered flowers." — Page 51. LONG AGO. 51 LONG AGO. 'Mid pleasant visions gliding dim Along the shore, Where still resounds Life's ocean-hymn With solemn roar, Methinks I see forms tall and slim, Angels you know, Who graced the earth — earth's seraphim - Long, long ago. And in their eyes, as sparkling still As in the hours When young and gay we cHmbed the hill And gathered flowers, I hail but love and kind good-will. And thoughts that glow. And in my veins still feel the thrill Felt long ago. And, dreaming, hear but whispers sweet, From lips unstained. 52 SELECT POEMS. The music of the heart's quick beat. That's never feigned; And catch a ghmpse of twinkhng feet 'Neath robes of snow, — Visions that haunted hall and street Long, long ago. Oh ! is there not a mystic balm In memories old; In hopes which still our fears disarm, - Hopes manifold ; And in the ever-lingering charm Of that sweet woe Which grew to love sincere and calm Lonff, long ago? THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. 53 THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. Go trace, O man ! thine emanation far Beyond the bounds of earth. The eldest star May be thy junior. Ask, nor dare to scan What was ere uncreated Mind began, — Yet unbegun, — when heaven itself was dark. When all was void, and Ufe's ethereal spark Remained unstruck; nor gaze beyond the verge. Where thought expires, and silence breathes a dirge And yet, in search of truth, why not explore Divinest realms, — the depths of Nature's lore. Her prone affinities, her plastic forms, Her mystic aim, and vital spark that warms Insensate clay to life, and e'en that part Which cannot die, the moral sense, the heart? Whate'er our future fate, remote or near, Why cherish still a faith that's born of fear? Or why that crisis view with solemn awe, The expiring hour ordained by Nature's law, — Man's last yet glorious birth to life that's higher. Where love abounds, and pure his soul's desire? 54 SELECT POEMS. And is it not enough for us to know- That Nature wills our weal, but ne'er our woe? Then why refuse, amid unclouded light. To read her lessons, and to choose the right? Or why still ask, beyond this vale of tears, If man be blest, or sink the waif of years? Since life, whate'er its form, whate'er its sphere. Survives all change, nor stays its bright career. This planet, Earth, whereon we strive and die. Compared with mightier orbs that gem the sky. What is it but a sunbeam's glittering mote? And what, among the spheres, its lowly note? And what are systems, with their central sun, But dazzling lights with which the viewless One Illumes his boundless realms, and palace-halls. And hallowed courts that glow with sapphire walls. The final home where weary souls shall rest. And taste but bhss, and be forever blest? And what is man, with ever- wavering trust? What but a breathing miracle of dust ; A puzzle to himself, o'er which he sighs. And questions God, yet thinks himself as wise? Aspiring still, at most what can he know Of life not yet revealed 'mid stars that glow? THE MYSTERY OE LIFE. 55 Though his an Eden once, it soon became A scene of tears, and sin acquired a name ; But not till crowned with flowers, and at his side Angelic woman smiled, and blushed a bride ! Enough, since man was blest, when fatal lore Touched woman's heart with sorrow to the core. And placed her in her present sphere, alone. To cheer the fallen state with love's sweet tone. Though heirs to grief, we struggle to regain The treasures of the sky ; but, ah ! the strain Which Hope the siren still pours forth misleads The frantic chase, nor soothes the heart that bleeds \ And yet like shadows, aimless, still we flit. Perplexed with doubts, nor learn that ills befit On earth our dark career. 'Tis sweet to think That we may yet be blest, while link by link In Nature's chain we climb, and dimly trace Our destiny, and seize, as if by grace, E'en on celestial joys; though oft we quake 'Mid ghostly fears, and Wisdom's path forsake. When Nature counselleth the heart, we hear Reproving whispers ; conscience, or a tear. Perhaps, betrays us to ourselves ; and then The world, its pride, its pomp, its fools, its men. 56 SELECT POEMS. Pass huddled in review, — a painful scene, That sickens life. 'Tis all in vain, I ween, To ponder o'er the fate of human kind : All would be happy, yet all will be blind. Ah ! why do men still seek it as a prize, — The happiness which dazzles envious eyes, — And yet forget the source of moral good. The charities of life, least understood? Why penetrate the mountain's rocky side For crumbs of gold, or track the ocean wide To gather pearls, and, at some future day. Expect to bask beneath the sunny ray Of earthly bliss, yet die at last the slaves Of Folly's reign, and fill forgotten graves? Forbear the human bosom to unmask : The passions prompt us, whatsoe'er we ask ; And Virtue's path, though traced upon a chart. We seldom choose till grief refines the heart. Vet hope hnks heaven and earth ; a,nd thus, despite The human will, unerring Nature's light Constrains belief, and teaches that the soul Must be immortal. Nor can aught control This innate sense. Alas ! who would persuade Himself, by dint of lore or logic's aid, THE MYSTERY OF LIFE. 57 That dark annihilation, cheerless creed, Ingulfs us all at last, then blots the deed? Though man may seem, with his restricted powers, The victim still of Fortune's freakish hours, Yet rule he may — and overrule — by thought Which still expands, till he himself is wrought To more than man. And when, at last, the breath Which he inhales at birth departs at death. He but attains to life, — a soul refined, That's merged again in elemental Mind. Oft from the darkened past, as from an urn, The memories dear of those we loved return. And tell of days and years and feeling hearts, When friendship knew but truth, and love no arts ; When joys were pure, and in life's golden sky No darkling cloud arose to blind the eye ; When Hope with smiling brow inspired the hours. And earth seemed but a paradise of flowers. Amid the gloom of years old empires rest; And who can say if they were cursed or blest? The monuments which told with lettered trust Where slept the great have crumbled into dust. Perchance the clods on which we heedless tread Have breathed with hfe, — the ashes of the dead, — 58 SELECT POEMS. Ashes which yet shall wake to conscious life, And, in the great advancing drama's strife, Assume, with new-born joy and purer heart, Still higher forms, and play a nobler part. And yet why doubt, or yield to mystic fear? What Nature wills, God wills, — a truth that's clear. THE CELESTIAL VISITANT 59 THE CELESTIAL VISITANT. Like the ray of a lone bright star Her spirit oft visits me still, And brings back the years from afar When heart beat to heart with a thrill. And, tinting my dreams with the hue Of a smile derived from the sky, She moistens my brow with the dew Of a tear-drop warm from her eye. And sweetly she breathes in my ear The vow which I made in my youth, And with lips still fervid and dear She pledges her love and her truth. And in tones still gentle and kind She whispers of joys that are past, — Of life, with its pleasures refined ; And of love's first dream, and its last. 6o SELECT POEMS. And arrayed like a bride crowned with flowers. Though hfe's early dream hath departed, Beyond the dark cloud that still lowers She awaits me, my own true-hearted. THE VOYAGER. 6l THE VOYAGER. When burst that thrilling cry Of " Land-ho ! " on the voyager's ear, With what dehght his searching eye Beheld the shadowy mountains lie Far in the distance, — dim, yet clear ! A world before him lay In all its beauty and its prime : With fearless step he led the way, •And knelt on shore, and blessed the day, The most eventful of his time. Freely the golden land. That gave a tint to all his dreams, Yielded to him, with heart and hand. Her empire vast, from strand to strand, • With all her wealth of hills and streams. But Nature's children then Dreamed not of woes which time revealed 62 SELECT POEMS. They saw but gods in Europe's men, And still revered them, even when Their fate had been forever sealed. And yet that wiser Power, Who shapes the destiny of man, Had willed a brighter, happier hour To cheer the gloom, which seemed to lower In darkness o'er his moral plan. And with the years which came There came brave men, whose valor won For Freedom's land a glorious name. And on whose altar burns the flame That once inspired a Washington. Intenser let it burn, — The flame that still inspires the free, — Till man the rights of man shall learn. And every land become, in turn, A glorious land of liberty ! SYMPATHIES. 63 SYMPATHIES. I LOVE to think that spirits dwell Upon the earth, — the beautiful, the good, Whose sympathies are pure, yet understood By none save those who feel the spell. I love to think that in life's vale There are ungathered flowers, whose bosoms glow With silent feeling and with tender woe For him whose hopes, long cherished, fail. I love to think that still a ray. Divine Hke that of hope, will long be felt By her to whom in earlier years I knelt, — The vision of my darkened way. I love to think that golden hours Will yet be mine while here on earth I tread, — Blest hours, when fairer skies will glow o'erhead. And nought spring 'neath my feet but flowers. ' 64 SELECT POEMS. I love to think that I shall meet, In holier realms, the dear departed few, — Angelic souls affectionate and true, Whose last kind words I oft repeat. I love to think that I shall read The record of His mighty plan divine Who dwells in light, and in each golden line Acquire the wisdom which I need. I love to think that I shall reign In some bright sphere, with power to tread the way From star to star through life's eternal day, And still to higher spheres attain. THE RAINBOW. 65 THE RAINBOW, How beautiful to wondering eyes The rainbow's flame, That spans the. earth, and tints the skies. Hallowed in name, And blent with more than Tyrian dyes ! How like bright hopes its glories shine, Distant, yet nigh ! Its woven hues, oh, how divine ! Though doomed to die In fitful mood, like hopes of mine. And yet within the heavenly gate Its smiles invite Earth's weary pilgrim, child of Fate, To share the light Which death nor gloom can dissipate. It cheers the faith to which we cling, — Faith in the dream 66 SELECT POEMS. Of life, and in the hopes that fling Earthward a gleam Of heaven, like flash of angel's wing. Emblem of love and power untold. It crowns His brow Who doth the skies about him fold, Keeping his vow, And golden promise made of old. DEPARTED, 67 DEPARTED. Too pure for earth, too pure for earth, Thy home the spirit-land. Where earth-born flowers unfading smile, Transferred by angel hand ! Yes, on thy brow the calm, bright skies Of heaven their radiance shed : The gift is thine, an angel's harp. How blest the early dead ! From sorrow's vale uncheered and dark. From tears and vain desires. While young and sinless thou art freed, The soul to heaven aspires. But still thy name remains intwined With memories ever dear. And they who on thee oft have smiled Now smile but through a tear. 68 SELECT POEMS. THE FAR WEST. Oh, where, think ye, is now the West, The far, far West, the land of dreams. Whose hills and vales, with virgin breast. Still slumber in their ancient rest, Lulled by the voice of plaintive streams? From Mexico, where airs are bland. To Oregon's impetuous flood, 'Already vale and mountain land Resound to that advancing band Who proudly boast heroic blood. Nor distant is the day, perchance. When yet these sons of vaUant sires Shall win their way by love or lance To sunnier climes, and e'en advance Beyond the equator's solar fires. Thus race to race must ever yield. And mental power assume the sway : THE FAR WEST. 69 Broad as the earth the ample field For those who trust in Virtue's shield, And Freedom's banner dare display. The far, far West, 'tis Freedom's now, The gift of God to earth's oppressed, — The land where all who take the vow No more to king or priest to bow May come, and find their wrongs redressed. Ay, there shall happy millions yet Reclaim the soil, and crowd the mart, — Freemen who thrive by toil and sweat. Sprinkling the waste with cities set On hill and plain like gems of art. And there shall thought yet fly afar Along the wire, from climes remote. And blend with thought like star with star; While startling rolls the frantic car. And bannered glides the gallant boat. And there, unawed, the mind of man. Progressive still, shall still aspire. Nor yield to creeds that fear to scan The mystic lore of Nature's plan, But still, insatiate, aim the higher ! ^0 SELECT POEMS. In sooth it needs no prophet's eye Westward to Ocean's calmer surge To see the future there outvie The ancient world, whose glories lie Pillared on Time's receding verge. Oh ! what, when centuries have rolled, Will be this mighty Western land? Her sons — will they be brave and bold, . And still defend her banner's fold? Her holy altars — will they stand? The link that binds the sisterhood — Say, will it brighten and grow strong, And men bear rule, the great and good, Who shun dissension, strife, and blood. Yet cleave to right, nor yield to wrong? Fear not ! with holier influence yet The years shall come which God ordains ; When Freedom's bounds shall not be set, Nor man his fellow-man forget In blind pursuit of sordid gains. . CAREER OF THE CLOUD. 71 CAREER OF THE CLOUD. In the garb of a soft, silken mist, I ascend to the brow Of the mountain, and trust to my wings When expanded as now. And I darken the sky with a frown That is fearful and grim; And, encircled with fire flashing wild, Often mutter a hymn — With a harmony solemn and loud, And with power that appalls. As it rolls its dread echoes afar Through the sky's vaulted halls ! Yet, relenting, I cheer the parched earth. And refresh it with showers, And awake thrills of joy in the breast Of the grief-stricken flowers. 72 SELECT POEMS. Though away like a shadow I pass, Still I feel a desire To repose in the smiles of the sun, Clad in robes fringed with fire; But in sorrow return to the earth. In whose clime I was bom, And in silence await the calm light Of the beautiful morn ! THE QUEEN OF NIGHT. 73 THE QUEEN OF NIGHT. Pale wanderer in the azure field That blossometh with stars, Why guard thy breast with silver shield, Whose dreams no sorrow mars? And why so fickle in thy round Through realms celestial and profound? And why, with ever-smiling face, O'er golden pathways lone. Dost thou at eve delight to chase Dim shadows, all thine own, Yet beautiful, and lovely too. As rosy nymphs that brush the dew? And why in thine employ retain That archer ever bold Who aims at maiden and at swain His arrows tipped with gold. Yet strives to soothe, with winning art And holiest vow, the wounded heart? 74 SELECT POEMS. Empress of Love ! 'tis ever thine To wield a magic power, That's earthly half, and half divine ; And thine the witching hour When pledges sweet are often given, Yet only true when sealed in heaven. THE OLD YEAR. 75 THE OLD YEAR. Lo ! the Year now retires, The sad Old Year, like a king from his throne; And, fated, he sinks, unwept and alone, To the grave of his sires. Yet he bears in his hand A scroll of sweet memories traced with a tear, — Thoughts which come back to the heart like a seer From the dark Silent Land. The decrees of his reign Enshrined let us cherish, though sumnioned to part With friends whom we loved, the wealth of the heart. In the vale of the slain. Yet we sigh for the years Which Hope has begemmed with promises bright, And wait, though they come not, save with the night Of the grave and with tears. 76 SELECT POEMS. TO A POETESS. Swan of the sweet and pensive song, Forgive tliis proffered lay : Though envied by a rival throng, Aspire ! and win thy way To every heart that loves delight. Traced on the scroll of Fame, Already thine's a name That, brightening, sheds a stellar light. Fear not ! but trust to bolder wing, And, in a trackless sky. Ascend 'mid stars, whose anthems fling Still back a sweet reply. Aspire ! nor heed the critic's blast. But still with many a gem Enrich thy diadem ; And pour thy strains, and they shall last. Yes, warbler of our Western land, The destiny is thine TO A POETESS. 77 Among the gifted few to stand, A favorite of the Nine. Aspire ! and o'er Time's ocean-tide Still loftier strike thy lyre ; Strike it, with soul of fire, To notes that wake a nation's pride. 78 SELECT POEMS. THE ZEPHYR. Born of the air, Say, whither, whither, dost thou glide. With breath of bahn, on azure tide, Viewless, yet fair? O'er hill and dale Tis thine to stray, and share the smile Of stars and flowers, and without guile Thyself regale. At summer eve, On gentle wing that fans my brow, Why stoop, or, blandly whispering now. Ask why I grieve, — Grieve for the blest. The dearly-loved one, now no more. To whom an angel oped the door In realms of rest? THE ZEPHYR. 79 Yet, when I hear The loving whisper of thy lute, I think it hers whose lip is mute. And hope and fear; And, though in vain. Still wait to hear one whisper more. And still at Beauty's shrine adore, Nor would refrain. Her spirit, bright And seraph-like, looks down from heaven ; While I look up with soul unshriven, And hail the light. go SELECT POEMS. HEREAFTER. Alas ! how fearful, silent, vast, The dim and shadowy realm Where undisputed reigns the Past, And voiceless waves o'erwhelm. In dark Oblivion's darker tide, All that we are, with all our pride. Lost in the dread Hereafter ! And will there be no whisper heard, No voices kind and sweet, No tender heart-string touched or stirred, No love that is complete. To soothe the grief that cannot speak; No faithful friend, tear-eyed and meek, — None in the dread Hereafter? And will there be no more of earth. No more of sky and stars. No hills or vales, nor vernal birth Of flowers, nor radiant bars HEREAFTER. 8 1 Of light to break upon the stream That bears us onward like a dream, — On, — in the dread Hereafter? Believe, there is no death for him Who lives on earth aright : He sees no shadows dark or grim ; For him there is no night. No last dull sleep, no fearful knell. Nor terror, when he goes to dwell. Blest, in the dread Hereafter. 82 SELECT POEMS. A PARTICULAR STAR. O'er the mountain, the hill, and the vale. When the gems of the night gleam afar, Say, who turns not with rapture to hail, High enthroned, a particular star? Though too fondly of bliss we may dream, And though sorrows our happiness mar. Still who loves not to bask in the beam Of a bright yet particular star? Who that dwells 'neath the musical spheres. Chiming low without quaver or bar, Can resist the sweet smiles or the tears Of a very particular star? Yes, as pure as the smile in the sky, When the Morning appears on her car, Is the love-light that gleams in the eye Of a dear yet particular star ! A PARTICULAR STAR. 83 May he find her the charm of his life, Ever kind without discord or jar, Who, enraptured, has won for a wife An adored yet particular star ! 84 SELECT POEMS. SUMMER. Lo ! Summer serenely advances, Arrayed in the smiles of the sun ; While zephyrs are weaving their dances In the vales where the rivulets run; And notes from the woodland soothingly steal The heart that is wounded, — never to heal. When alone, — a recluse in the bower, — Communion with Nature how sweet ! Her whispers and smiles have the power, 'Mid the charms of her fairy retreat. To recall the blest hours whose flight we bemoan, And awake in the soul a heaven of its own. Though Summer ere long with her pleasures Must yield to the cold Winter blast. And we who are fed from her treasures Depart, and be lost in the past; Yet hope, like a star still unclouded and bright, Dispels every fear, and illumines the night. FAR AWAY. 85 FAR AWAY. Is there not a domain whose broad, sunny fields Are begemmed with perennial flowers, Far away in a realm of beauty and song, Where but joy, unrepressed, speeds the hours? If there be such a realm of fairy delight With an atmosphere laden with balm. Be it mine there to dwell, where from innocent lips Breathes a music hke that of a psalm. Though divine be the star that illumines our way, We are plodding a path set with snares; And the life that we lead is a warfare indeed, And its pleasures but cankering cares. How blest then to fly from this sorrowing vale Far away to the bright happy land, — The beautiful land where life is but love. And the smiles that await us are bland ! 86 SELECT POEMS. WILD FLOWERS. Daughters of light, who ne'er repine. Though high your birth, 'Tis yours in humble life to shine Like modest worth. Arrayed in robes of heavenly hue You come and go. And drink the nectar of the dew, Nor taste of woe. Inspired, and yet inspiring still. You seem to speak. And prophesy to vale and hill With faith that's meek. 'Tis yours a language pure to teach. And share his heart Wlio seeks on earth high aims to reach Ere he depart. WILD FLOWERS. 87 And yours the whisper which, I trow, I hear at eve, And in the morning's roseate glow, — Hear and beheve ; Beheve the gospel of your lips Spoken to man. Nor heed the coming frost that nips Each hope and plan. For, if my life on earth be true, I yet, on high, Shall wear a glorious robe like you. And never die. SELECT POEMS. THE INNER LIFE. Go forth, deep lost in thought, Where none intrude, And let thy faith be wrought In solitude : Truth waits, yet must be sought. Yes, with thyself commune, And, soft as lute. Thy heart-strings thus attune To love that's mute, And vain aspirings prune. 'Tis only love — complete — That will endure, When earth-life frail and fleet. And hopes not sure, Depart, — pure love, I weet, — The sejitiment that's shrined Deep in the heart; THE INNER LIFE. 89 The wealth of soul and mind; That better part Of man, not yet defined. The life of life upright, God-like endeavor; The star that crowns the night; The long forever That's lost in calm delight. 90 SELECT POEMS, VOICE OF THE PINE. In other days, from woodland maze, Homeward I proudly bore, O'er hill and plain, 'mid sleet and rain, The graceful pine that breathes divine Its music at my door. There let it stand, pride of the land, And in my listening ear Still breathe its psalm, low-voiced and calm; Sad notes of grief — in my belief — Which angels stoop to hear. I feel its power at twilight-hour, And think that she is near Who reigns afar in yonder star, — A seraph blest, her soul at rest, The brightest of her sphere. How dear to me the whispering tree. Whose sigh melts on the air ! — VOICE OF THE PINE. 9 1 Sweeter than words, or song of birds ; Because its tone is like her own Sweet voice, lute-like and rare. Long be it mine, beneath that pine, To dream of years gone by ; Of her who seems, in all my dreams. To visit earth, where love had birth, — A love too pure to die. 92 SELECT POEMS. HYMN TO THE SUN. Great sire of life, and source of light, Thou hast o'er all control; Dispeller of the mystic night. Of worlds the central soul. Shot from thy quiver, swiftly fly, Space-wide, thine arrowy rays ; Falling, like fire-flakes from the sky, Into the boundless maze. The sinless stars, so bright and fair, Are all allied to thee ; Daughters of heaven, with golden hair, That smile o'er land and sea. From thee the Earth her wealth receives, Her beauty, fruits, and flowers ; And at thy nod old Ocean heaves. And feels thy quickening powers. HYMN TO THE SUN. 93 Yes, all that live, from thee partake A life that never dies, — A life that sleeps but to awake In life beyond the skies. And they who worship in thy name, And share thy gifts of fire, Still in thy smiling face of flame Behold creation's Sire, — The lofty One, whose outline dim Pervades, unseen, the vast ; The realm that's sanctified by Him, The mighty First and Last. Oh that we could unveil to sight The depths of Nature's plan, — The infinite in power and might, Whose crowning work is man ! Although the seal we cannot break, Yet, blest with godlike powers. Why not, at least, ourselves forsake, And scale the loftiest towers? — 94 SELECT POEMS. The pinnacles that gleam on high In that unchanging clime Where ne'er is heard an earthly sigh, Nor lisp that breathes of time. INNOCENCE. 95 INNOCENCE. How can a soul of sinless ray,. Now breathing love, incline to stray, Or need to be forgiven? O Innocence, with laughing eyes ! Thou art a cherub from the skies, A wanderer from heaven. Ha ! gentle spirit, gift divine. There's nectar on those lips of thine, And sweet the kiss I've won : There dwells no dew on proffered lip. That's pure, like that on thine, to sip, On loveliest woman's, — none. With heart sincere, while it shall beat. May violets spring beneath thy feet, And roses crown thy youth ; And, when to womanhood attained. Still may thy graces be unfeigned, Thy friendship, love, and truth ! 96 SELECT POEMS. ENSHRINED. From crystal fount in yonder sky A silvery dewdrop fell, — Fell, like a tear from Beauty's eye, Into the flowery dell. And there, amid the starlight's tide, I plucked the floweret wild, Into whose breast, with loving pride. The dewdrop fell and smiled, — A smile that slept enshrined within That glittering drop of dew; Yet seemed a spirit without sin. Whose life, though brief, was true; Spirit that kissed the floweret fair, And woke within its breast A love which Nature bids us share. Serene, angeUc, blest. ENSHRINED. 97 How oft in nature thus we see, Mirrored as in a glass, A life of love and purity. Which we unheeding pass ! In every drop of sparkling dew, In every smiling flower. There is a lesson meant for you And me, — a voice of power ; A voice that speaks to every heart, In silence mute yet bland j That wins the soul with mystic art. Like a dream in the blissful land. gg SELECT POEMS. THE BIRTH OF BEAUTY. By Nature's hand, though all Was made complete, Still in her palace-hall No twinkling feet. Nor graceful figure tall. Nor smile that's sweet, Had yet obeyed her call. And so she racked her brain, And gathered flowers, — White lilies from the plain, And from the bowers Roses, — and from the main Cosmetic powers ; From birds, their sweetest strain. Combining these, she wrought A perfect charm ; And gave it grace and thought, THE BIRTH OF BEAUTY. 99 Brilliant yet calm ; When man the vision caught In his strong arm, And claimed it, — as he ought ! — And blessed his happy lot. Which now made earth An Eden, — every spot, — Since Beauty's birth ; Whose smile still cheers his cot. His home and hearth; An angel ^ — is she not? lOO SELECT POEMS. HER LAST ADIEU. Adieu to him who loved me not; Whose vow was insincere : The past — oh, let it be forgot, With all on earth that's dear ! The Silent Land — it is my home ; And there I soon shall rest, Where sorrows never, never come With sighs to heave the breast. Adieu to earth ! When I am laid Within the narrow cell. Let words and funeral pomp be stayed, Nor toll the funeral-bell. Enough if but a friend be nigh To fling upon my bier A rose that's tinted with the sky, Or shed for me a tear. HER LAST ADIEU. Speak not of cherished love untold, In death, a deathless flame ; Nor let the marble pale and cold Record my humble name. Yet think of me whene'er you dream In holy twilight-hours. Or mark the star whose pensive beam Still cheers the meek-eyed flowers. I02 SELECT POEMS. VERNAL WHISPERS. Born of the blushing Spring, Lo, Joy replumes his angel-wing ! With radiant locks the Hours advance, And violets wake from Winter's trance ; While Beauty smiles with sunny glance. And birds ecstatic sing. Against a sky serene The quiet mountains seem to lean ; While valleys woo, with pure delight, The genial sun, and dews of night ; And Hope, with buds of promise bright. Embroiders all the scene. The sunshine and the showers Restore to Earth her bosom flowers, — The queenly rose that's virgin-hpped. The lily that in gold is dipped, The honey-bell that's oftenest sipped, And thyme that never towers. VERNAL WHISPERS. 103 And now, from mantled hill, And cradled vale, and gushing rill, There breathes a music sweet and long, Which melts the soul like sacred song, And purifies the heart that's wrong, — The whisper small and still. Oh ! catch with listening ear The vernal whispers of the year, Whose breath, like hope, revives the heart. And bids us act a nobler part. Nor leave behind a faithless chart When Autumn's leaf is sear. I04 SELECT POEMS. IN MEMORIAM. The stars were bright as at their birth, And angel-voices thrilled the air ; When, spirit-like, and pure as fair, She came to bless our home on earth. Her new-born life, like budding flower. Awoke as from the slumbering night. And smiled to greet the morning light, And grew in love and artless power. And, with the lapse of speeding years, She grew in graces which adorn The woman, lovely as the mom. And beautiful 'mid hopes and fears. With modest mien, enchanting all. She seemed a vision from the sky, The cynosure of every eye In social sphere or festive hall. IN ME MORI AM. I05 Yet higher aims in life she sought, And early chose that "better part," God's love, which purifies the heart When in the soul 'tis deeply wrought. Her smile was like a magic charm, A heavenly twilight blandly wove ; And in an atmosphere of love She ever moved serene and calm. In Fashion's glare, or humbler sphere. Wherever souls have genial flow. Admirers paused, and whispered low Her praise in words which were sincere. And one there was, a man of heart. Of finest feelings, kind, yet brave. To whom her jewelled hand she gave ; Ay, gave her life, of his a part. And theirs was now a cloudless sky. With pleasing hopes and noble pride ; For they were one, bridegroom and bride, Nor dreamed that aught could break the tie. lo6 SELECT POEMS. On rapturous wing the blest hours flew, With joys renewed as sped the day; And vernal flowers smiled on the way, And mountain-scenes entranced the view. Nor long awaiting their return, Friends welcomed them with earnest kiss, The purest, holiest earthly bHss, In homes where sacred altars burn. How joyous now the festive hour, When music cheered the lighted hall, And wreaths of flowers bedecked the wall, And Beauty smiled with witching power ! Yet many days passed not away Ere on their path a shadow fell. Whose mystic meaning none could tell, — A shadow that prolonged its stay. Full soon the final summons came. And o'er the River dark and wide Forever passed the sainted bride. Whose love still lives, a deathless flame. IN MEMORTAM. 107 And he whose love had won her heart, And they who shared its kindred ties, Bemoaned her flight with tearful eyes, And bosoms pierced by Sorrow's dart. Where now her dust in silence sleeps. There oft a footstep light is heard ; And there as oft his soul is stirred Who truly loved, and, loving, weeps. There autumn sheds the faded leaf Upon that hallowed spot of earth, And there the vernal flower has birth, Emblems of her whose life was brief. There was she laid, with tender care. In bridal robes, — her last request, — The weary one now gone to rest, The loved, the beautiful, the fair ! Ah ! must it be ? — must we no more On earth behold her happy face. Her loving smile, and queenly grace, Nor hear her steps within our door? lo8 SELECT POEMS. How oft she touched to pensive song The melting strings of her guitar, — Melting, like music from afar. In tones that linger, sweet and long ! Oh, how endeared each relic seems Which she has left behind to tell Of her sweet self, and which, like spell Recalls her still in pleasing dreams ! SONG OF THE TEMPEST. 109 SONG OF THE TEMPEST. Cloud-born, I visit earth, And on my way sublime I give to terror birth. Nor spare the sons of time, But in my wrath sweep o'er the land, And smite my foes with giant hand. Oh, yes ! with fearful stroke I smite the forest's pride, ' Uproot the stately oak. And score the mountain's side, And dash to earth, in frenzied hour, The abodes of men, with fane and tower. O'er land and sea I sweep, Unchained in mad career. Nor list to those who weep, But hurl the lightning's spear; And, wrapped in clouds that still grow black, Still scatter wrecks along my track. no SELECT POEMS. And thus, with crushing stride, I leave a record lone Of sorrow and of pride, Nor care my deeds to own ; For passion fires my giddy brain Until exhaustion ends my reign. But still — if understood — I do but fill my sphere; Educe from evil good, And mark the fruitful year : Yet man distrusts the hand concealed That points my path o'er flood and field. MAN. HI MAN. What a mystical vision is he, In a " house " built of " clay," — Haunted house that is locked with a key, And the "key" thrown away! What a mystical vision is he, With his heart in a " chest," And a " hinge " in his suppliant knee, And a " sole " ne'er at rest ! What a mystical vision is he. With a " drum " in his ear, And a " font " in his eye ever free To o'erflow with a tear ! What a mystical vision is he, With a " palm " in his hand. And the "lines" of his fate as you see, — Still the " lord " of the land ! 1 1 2 SELECT POEMS. What a mystical vision is he, With a "pipe" in his throat, — Often piping a song of glee, Or a sad, sad note ! What a mystical vision is he, With his hands and his feet Pierced with "nails" by a natal decree, And a "beard" like the wheat! What a mystical vision is he When a " Ud " shuts his eye. And liis "ghost" pays to Charon a fee That is stamped with a " die " ! What a mystical vision is he, Whether living or dead ! Still a naan, or a god it may be, With a " crown " on his head. ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. 113 ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. With all their virtues plain and stern, The good old times have sped ; And now the wisdom which we learn Turns giddy every head : And yet 'tis wrong, I ween, to spurn Our old ancestral dead. Our Pilgrim sires were taught of God, And solemn psalms they sung : They trained their children with the rod. And witch and wizard hung. Yet, if they erred, 'tis nothing odd : All err, both old and young. They earned by toil whate'er they had, Since Heaven ordained it so ; Nor with the fashions went they mad, Nor cramped they waist or toe \ Nor like the lily, pale and sad. Looked every belle and beau. 1 14 SELECT POEMS. The girls were taught to spin and weave, The boys to hold the plough : 'Twas then thought wise — and I believe As wise it might be now — If people would their scheming leave, And live by sweat of brow. The good old times were good enough, Though times more polished dawn : Men then were made of sterner stuff Than those that now are born. Though plain they were, and somewhat rough Yet why their virtues scorn? In groups that grace the parlor wall, How pleasant still to see The dear old portraits, which recall Our honored ancestry ! — Grandparents, uncles, aunts, and all, Who danced us on the knee. Oh, yes ! I still remember well My grandsire's aged look ; The witching tales he deigned to tell; And how from sacred Book He oft explained why Adam fell, And man the right forsook. ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. 115 He used to wear a broad-brimmed hat; A buckle gemmed each knee. The old arm-chair in which he sat It cheers me still to see : With powdered wig and cue, all that, None looked so grave as he. His was a high and manly brow, With locks of silver gray : He ne'er to Britain's pride would bow, Nor for her king e'en pray; Nor would he yield, like statesmen now, His principles for pay. But, strong of limb, and brave at heart. He swung a brawny arm. And promptly bore a hero's part 'Mid danger and alarm; And, though oft pierced by Sorrow's dart, His manner still was calm. He loved to tell his history o'er, And speak of War's dread crimes. And laud the deeds he did of yore, Which beat all modern times. ' The worldly goods he left in store All heirs could ask, save dimes ! Il6 SELECT POEMS. Though poor, he was a patriot true ; Had fought in Freedom's cause ; And all he owed he paid when due, — His debt to Nature's laws : In fact, from earth have passed but few With heart as free from flaws. If 'midst old graves you choose to tramp, You still may read in print. Upon his headstone cold and damp, This brief yet truthful hint : — "Here hes a man of Nature's stamp. The coinage of her mint," But what of her who wore a cap. And hoop to swell her skirt? — Dear grandam, who with many a chap, When young, inclined to flirt ; And e'en in age, whate'er might hap. Seemed girHsh, prim, and pert. Though seeming gay, she used to read Her Bible with delight. And deeply felt that mortals need God's grace to keep them right : Always, with heart that seemed to bleed, She said her prayers at night. ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. II? She led a life none need despise, Affectionate and kind ; And, under holy guidance wise, Her duty sought to find ; And oft relieved, with pitying eyes, The poor, the halt, the bUnd. Her fears were still her only foes, Her aim but heaven to win ; Yet she was cheerful to life's close, Though but a shadow thin; Oft rocked my cradle, I suppose ; And loved to knit and spin. The most I recollect of her Is, how she used to try, With pointed thread half lost in blur, To hit her needle's eye ; And, though vexations would occur, She ne'er indulged a sigh. The good old lady has been dead Some thirty years at least : The stone is carved, that guards her head. With cherubs gazing east; And yet she lives, though life hath sped. Where all her fears have ceased. Il8 SELECT POEMS. Uncle, who was a favorite son, For riches never toiled : Though he in youth loved mirth and fun. And sports that oft recoiled, Yet what was wrong he aimed to shun. And ne'er his morals soiled. But, when parental power had lost O'er him its kind control, He rarely stopped to count the cost, The worth of time or soul, But onward floated, tempest-tost. Where'er Life's wave might roll. His head with many a vision swam : The world he longed to see ; Or Greenland's isle, or land of Ham, It mattered not, so he. No longer tethered like the lamb. Could rove unchecked and free. Ere twenty-one, most foreign lands 'Tis said that he had seen. Though fearful still of wedlock's bands. At forty, as I ween, He sometimes thought of joining hands : What did the fellow mean? ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. 119 However strange, the truth to say, Love's vow at last he made. And sealed it too, one eve in May, With her who graced the glade ; And ever, from that happy day, He led a life that's staid. Whate'er may be by prudes required, Who join in nuptial state. He proved the model man desired, And she the loving mate ; And, blest of Heaven, they ne'er grew tired Of " little cares " or great. But stronger grew the silken tie As sped their happy years ; And, with their treasures laid on high. They banished all their fears ; And, when at last they came to die, Were mourned with many tears. If half they say of aunt be true, Her youthful charms were rare : Her teeth were pearl, her eyes were blue, And auburn was her hair; Her lip a rosebud bathed in dew; Her brow angelic, fair. SELECT POEMS. Never had maid a prettier hand, Or daintier foot, than she ; Nor rosier cheek had zephyr fanned Than hers, as all agree : Her smile was like a seraph's bland, Her footstep light and free. With thumb and finger, you would think Her waist that you could span. She knew just when 'twould do to wink, Or smile, behind her fan : Ay, hers were charms whose magic link 'Twas hard to break, young man ! She dreamed of one — an idle dream — Whose look her fancy pleased : Though but a dream, she did not seem By his indifference teased, But clung to hope till hope's last gleam Had left her heart diseased. When rouge supplants the artless rose, And hfe's a wintry sea. None but an ancient maiden knows How pleasant it must be To hear a gentleman propose. And see him bend the knee ! ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS. Ah ! who can tell with what desire Aunt wished her years were stayed, When youth had lost its subtle fire, And charms began to fade? Yet ripening years saw her expire A lily in the shade. And thus have all of that dear throng. Who cheered the ancestral hearth, When I was young, and love was strong. And pure as flowers at birth. Now trod the lonely way that's long, Nor more will visit earth. When I return to earth's dull mould. Perhaps some kindred dear Will smile to hear my foibles told, And think my portrait queer : Nor matters it, if, when unrolled, Life's record still be clear. SELECT POEMS. THE REALM OF THOUGHT. Around that realm there flames a wall No mortal foot hath scaled ; Nor through its gleaming turrets tall ■ Hath tempest ever wailed. A place of holy rest it seems, A palace built for souls, — Great souls that realize their dreams 'Mid light that boundless rolls ; Great souls that here have nobly wrought Their task, transferred at last, There to partake, where truth is taught, An infinite repast. THE MUSIC OF THE RAIN. 123 THE MUSIC OF THE RAIN. Now falling, falling from the sky, There comes a pleasant strain, That lights with joy the floweret's eye, — The music of the rain. And falling, falling on the roof, And on the window-pane. It breathes of love that needs no proof,- The music of the rain. And falling, falling down in showers. It cheers the waving grain. And gives delight to summer hours, — The music of the rain. And falling, falling in its mirth, It wakes to life again The fainting world of lovely birth, — The music of the rain. 124 SELECT POEMS. And falling, falling sweet and low, It falls on hill and plain, And speeds the rills that dancing flow, The music of the rain. And falling, falling from the eaves, It mingles its refrain With his who waits to gather sheaves. The music of the rain. And falling, falling far and near, It never falls in vain : Oh, welcome then, with heart sincere, The music of the rain ! ASPIRATION. 125 ASPIRATION. Be mine a faith and hope whose tendrils twine With buds and blossoms in a land divine, Where spring but flowers that drink the genial dew, And greet the sainted soul with welcome true ; Perennial flowers, whose pensive grace untold Proclaims the power of love that's manifold ; The love that flows from out the central heart Of Life unseen, yet flowing doth impart To life that's seen its own diviner charm Of moral beauty, with its heahng balm ; Perennial flowers, that bloom in heavenly light. And, ever fragrant, climb from height to height. Where, free to all, a viewless hand unbars The gate that leads to mansions built of stars. 126 SELECT POEMS. SHADOWS. In truth, all things beneath the sky- But shadows seem, — Shadows that catch the dazzled eye, Mere shadows swiftly gliding by, False as a dream. And yet, though false, they often cheer Hours dark to me : Yes, often mirrored in a tear I see famihar faces dear, No more to be. Still all are shadows, man or flower. Passing with time ; All, — e'en the mountain's unsealed tower, That awes the earth with mystic power Lone and sublime. And yet, of sainted loved ones meek, Shadows are cast SHADOWS. 127 From skies that ne'er grow chill or bleak; Shadows that seem, heart-touched, to speak Of years now past ; Shadows that stalk close at my side, Life-like as truth ; Shadows in which I still confide ; Shadows that dance on hfe's dark tide ; Shadows of youth; Shadows of nymphs that trod the vale, And culled its flowers ; Shadows that loved the stars to hail, And paused to hear the brooklet's wail. In moonlit hours ; Shadows of joys flown long ago With happier days ; Shadows of hours I ne'er shall know; Shadows of hopes no more to glow, Shorn of their rays ; Shadows of memories ever blest. Though pensive all ; Shadows that come at my behest, With healing power to soothe my breast, Whate'er befall. 128 SELECT POEMS. Ah me ! how oft have shadows brought One message more From reahns of bHss to souls untaught, Prophetic of the change that's wrought When hfe is o'er ! A VISION OF LIGHT. 129 A VISION OF LIGHT. When the Winter departs On his dark, stormy wing, How divine the first flower That appears in the spring ! 'Tis a vision of light. And it comes but to cheer Winter's last lingering firown With a smile that is dear. And with joy, from the cup Of the silvery dew, It imbibes nectared sweets, Ever pure, fresh, and new,- Timely food sent to earth From a fount in the sky In response to the prayer Of a calm, lifted eye. 130 SELECT POEMS. Thus the flower looks aloft To the stars of the night With a faith that is pure, And a brow crowned with light. Though its life be a dream, And its days but a few, Yet, like saint, it has hope. With a love breathed for you. O ye proud of the earth ! From the flower meekly learn How to live, how to die, And be blessed in return. LAURA. 131 LAURA. The moment his leave he had taken, She flew from the parlor in haste, With her nerves like an aspen quite shaken ; Yet the secret was much to her taste. "Oh! what is the matter, my dear?" Cried the mother, all pale with affright; And Laura began to look queer, And to stammer, while blushing outright : - "Frank asked me — I did not expect it — The question ! I thought I should faint ! Such an offer ! — oh ! can I reject it ? 'Tis enough to discourage a saint. How shall I determine his case? 'Tis true that I love him too well; But they say I've a beautiful face, And you know I'm considered a belle. " Besides, there are forty or more With whom it is pleasant to flirt.; And they all still profess to adore, — 132 SELECT POEMS. Would kiss e'en the hem of my skirt. I'm alarmed at the hazard I run; So distracted, I hardly can speak : I'll tell him I thought him in fun When he calls for an answer next week. " But I'm fearful that never will do : His manner was frank and sincere : An answer that's candid is due ; And yet it will cost me a tear. Let me think — ah! I think I'll say 'No!' With Harry I love to play chess; Yet, my hand were I now to bestow, A fophng it never should bless. " As to Frank, I will treat him the same, And perhaps I will wed him at last. But, when I consider how tame Are the married, I'm stricken aghast, And conclude in the girlhood of life That I'll still be a butterfly gay: When I choose, I will then be a wife ; Yet I might marry dozens to-day." And thus, with a toss of her head, She made up her mind in a hurry. 'Illlll l"l,l„lil''l,llll,l'„llli I '' ' lljjpjriilljjnjiilll^^^^ T^iiiHliilf ifpi ( ■ "And, lisping, replied to him, 'Yes.'" — Page 133. LAURA. 133 Frank called, and began to look red; Yet Laura, although in a flurry, Received him, of course, with a smile ; Then talked of the last evening's rout : But Frank, after listening awhile. Resolved to remove the last doubt. But still she persisted in talking Of the rout, and the fashions, and dance \ While Frank, as he rose to be walking, Still lingered, half lost in a trance ; When, wreathing her lip to say "No!" Somehow, with a charming address, She softened the word in its flow, And, lisping, replied to him, "Yes!" 134 SELECT POEMS. SONG OF THE DIME. Though but a dime, a simple dime, I run a bright career, And have a voice whose silvery chime, Like music, wins the ear. Where'er I go, I'm still received With ready, grasping hand : The rich, the poor, and the bereaved My mission understand. Yet ere I can my mission prove, Though never seeking rest. The miser, with a miser's love, Oft locks me in his chest. Imprisoned there I'm doomed to wait, Still sighing to be free. Until the tyrant yields to fate. And heirs obtain the key. SONG OF THE DIME. 135 In social circles, high and low, I have a wide, wide range ; And still am sought, as you may know, By those who seek for "change." A changing life it is I lead ; And, though grown old and thin, I still remain a slave indeed, Nor favors hope to win. In ways that seem at first but small. Large fortunes oft I spend; Amass them too, when saving all I find a faithful fi-iend. Yet many an orphan's heart I cheer With stinted loaves of bread, And oft illume the widow's tear In pensive silence shed. And yet the widow, poor indeed, Oft casts me, as her mite, In aid of those who still have need Of gospel truth and light. And thus from hand to hand I go, And do what good I can : 136 SELECT POEMS. Yet much I do, in idle show, For woman and for man ; Nor cease to learn from day to day, As I enact my part, How few are they who care to weigh The motives of the heart. THE AUTUMN LEAK I37 THE AUTUMN LEAF. In you, frail leaf, The lone and last on yonder tree, Methinks, revealed, I clearly see The life that's pure, — its harmony And golden sheaf. And, though you wear A pensive look, I still can trace A saintly smile upon your face, Betokening faith, — a work of grace That cheers despair. To life's last bound. Though tremulous has been your flight. Still you have won a crown that's bright, And, clad in gems, oft danced at night A giddy round, — Danced to the sigh Of zephyr's lute, 'mid summer air; 138 ■ SELECT POEMS. Nor dreamed that you were doomed to share A frosty kiss, so calm and fair Appeared the sky. But now, grown old, 'Tis yours to fall as fell your peers, And mingle with the dust of seers ; Yet live again, and in far years New charms unfold. 'Twas but the breath Of vernal hours that quickened you : 'Tis but a breath divine and true That quickens man, and will renew His life in death. LAYING THE CORNER-STONE. 1 39 LAYING THE CORNER-STONE. [WBITTEN BY KEQUEST.] Father of light, enthroned on high, Thine is an ever-watchful care O'er all who dwell beneath the sky. And thine an ear that heareth prayer. To thee we here with willing hand, And cheerful hearts allied as one, A temple rear to bless our land. And reverent lay the corner-stone. 'Tis here that we our vows will pay As fleeting roll our earthly years ; And, led by faith that points the way, Ne'er yield our hopes to doubting fears. 'Tis here that we will speak thy love, And sing thy praise in sacred song. Invoke the spirit of the dove. And still in faith and hope grow strong. 14° SELECT POEMS. And here to thee our hearts still give, And wait until from earth and strife Thy voice shall bid us rise and live, Heirs of a purer, better Hfe. INSCRUTABLE. ^41 INSCRUTABLE. Old Ocean, source of mystic power, I love thy solemn hymn, The hollowed murmurs of thy lip, And saddened m-emories dim, Yet shrink to meet thy terrors grim. Nor marvel that thine own dark waves Refuse to give thee rest; For thine are dark, mysterious deeds, Born of a troubled breast, Still unatoned and unconfessed. And yet methinks kind sympathies With human hearts are thine; A wish to soothe the wail of grief, — The grief that's ever mine For her whose form thy depths enshrine. 142 SELECT POEMS. EVER VAIN. Ever vain the pursuit After pleasures that fly, And bequeath but a sigh, With a tear in our eye : Ashes the fruit ! Ever vain the pursuit. Amid dreams that entrance, After phantoms that dance. After fame, — a mere chance ; Ashes the fruit ! Ever vain the pursuit, Amid grief from the first, After bubbles that burst. After treasures accursed : Ashes the fruit ! TACIT LANGUAGE. 143 TACIT LANGUAGE. When eye for eye is glancing, Oft deep emotions rise, Intwined with thoughts entrancing Whose memory never dies. When sigh for sigh is heaving. Oft joy with grief is blent ; But, when fond hopes are leaving. How sad the heart's lament ! When smile for smile is lighting The fair angelic brow. On lips that seem inviting Who would not seal his vow? When tear for tear is flowing. Its light full oft reveals A cherished love that's glowing, Which still the lip conceals. 144 SELECT FOE MS. When heart for heart is beating, Its language must be true : The heart cannot be cheating That only beats for you. A CONCEIT. 145 A CONCEIT. Old Father Time, with nod sublime, And hammer in his hand, Proclaims aloud, as from a cloud, The sale of sea and land, . With hammer in his hand. Ask not for grace, but take your place. And hear him cry the sale : He speaks in tones that shatter thrones, Nor hsts to those who wail. Ah, hear him cry the sale ! Before him lies full many a prize In rich array displayed : Yes, all that's dear to mortals here, Of hfe, its light and shade, In rich array displayed. He breaks Hfe's spell, nor grieves to sell Fond hopes to which we chng, — 146 SELECT POEMS. Honor and fame, and wealth and name, — Vain things : what will they bring? Fond hopes to which we cling ! He spareth nought, not e'en a thought, Though beautiful and true, But strikes down all, then flings a pall, And screens the world from view, The beautiful and true. Nor does he wait at heaven's high gate. Nor does he shed a tear, But breaks the bars, and smites the stars, And dark grows every sphere : Nor does he shed a tear, But doomed now dies, 'neath blackened skies, Remembered nevermore ; And now, downcast, the silent Past In darkness hides her store, — Remembered nevermore. LILIES. 147 LILIES. If the stars are but footprints Where the angels have trod, What are maidens but Hhes In the garden of God? What but daughters of hght, Who in silence declare Their devotion and love, With heads bowed in prayer? But, if lilies " toil not," How is it they weave A wreath of sweet smiles. Yet deign to deceive? While they flaunt, and seem gay. In their raiment of gold, Why at heart are they sad With a " secret untold " ? 148 SELECT POEMS. HOME OF MY YOUTH. A STRANGER in my native land, I none but strangers see ; Not one who seeks to grasp my hand, For none remember me. Although received with chilling pride In this my native clime, I have not now a heart to chide The changes wrought by time, But still regard with tearful eye The shadows of the past, The home of youth, whose magic sky. Though dimmed, is not o'ercast. For I have seen beneath its roof Full many a happy day, And heard from saintly lips the proof Of love that lasts for aye. HOME OF MY YOUTH. 149 Yet nevermore shall I behold The years which now have flown, Whose wings were wrought with threads of gold Bright as an angel's own. But, yielding still to impulse strong That binds me in its band, I turn to mountains loved so long, And kiss to them my hand; And o'er paternal acres fair. That stretch beneath the sun. Still trace the shadows gliding there. And mourn what time has done. And yet I greet with joy the rill That flows from out the cave. And winds its way adown the hill, Singing its ancient stave; And bless the aged chestnut-tree. Where oft at earliest dawn I gathered wealth, — then wealth to me, — Nor treat its gifts with scorn; 150 SELECT POEMS. Nor shun the orchard, where of yore, Beneath an autumn sky, I shared so oft the golden store That charmed my roving eye. And thus, in passing o'er the lea, I pause at many a spot, — Haunts which it gives me joy to see, Though changed is now my lot. Ha ! there's the vine, the wild grape-vine, In which I sat and swung With her whose arm stole into mine In days when both were young. Nor dreamed we then of happier hours. Nor happier have I seen; For then hfe's path was strewn with flowers, And youth's bright sky serene. And here once more old paths I tread In meadow, grove, and glade, And pause 'neath elms whose leafy head Still casts a grateful shade. HOME OF MY YOUTH. 151 In yonder glen the mountain-stream Propels the old mill-wheel ; And in good faith, as still would seem, The miller shares the meal. Anghng in depths to eddies wrought, Below the mill-dam's foam, How oft the dainty trout I've caught. And borne in triumph home ! , When Autumn with her golden hue Enriched the woodland's crown. How oft with fatal aim and true I've brought the squirrel down; Oft traced the pheasant to her glen, And set the subtle snare. In which when caught, like luckless men. She dangled in the air ! Though skies may lower, the fitful gleams Of earlier, happier days Still come to me like pleasant dreams, Tinged with celestial rays. 1 5 2 SELECT POEMS. Yet, 'mid this vision of the past, Not one of all my race Remains to cheer this lone and last Look at my native place. And yet I love the sacred shrine Of olden memories dear, And, lingering, dream of joys once mine, Though but a wanderer here ; In yonder churchyard trace the print Of names I honor still, And from them take the warning hint Which time will soon fulfil. Albeit familiar friends still live, Who seem to bless me yet. And who to me a welcome give Which I can ne'er forget. I mean the smiling brook that flows To music's silver tone, The rock and hill, and sweet wild-rose, Whose love I'm proud to own. HOME OF MY YOUTH. 153 Nor are they shadows dim to sight, Whose lips still breathe of woe, But stanch old friends, whose hearts are right, True friends to me, I know. None truer than the hills and plains. The brooklet, tree, and flower, And birds that sing in happy strains, Unconscious of their power. For Nature and her children speak In language that's divine. And calmly teach me to be meek. And never to repine. 154 SELECT POEMS. MORE SPACE. Give Freedom space, more space Her proud domain extend ; But ne'er a step retrace ; Her blood-bought soil defend. Space for the brave, more space, O'er continent and sea : Send forth Columbia's race, Her sons of Liberty. Space for her eaglets, space, In other climes to soar, — Soar in the sun's bright face, Heralds from every shore. Space for her banner, space. On every breeze to float, While tyrants trembling trace Their fate not far remote. MORE SPACE. 155 Space for the free, more space ! Ay, space for every man Who dares to fill his place, Godlike, in Nature's plan. Give Freedom space, more space ; Her proud domain extend ; But ne'er a step retrace ; For God is Freedom's friend. 156 SELECT POEMS. AMONG THE HILLS. When Nature, with a skilful hand, Moulded to shape these billo\vy hills, She clad in forests dark the land, And pencilled it with silver rills ; And, with a scarf of lovely blue, She bound the mountain's regal brow, And touched it with a magic hue, Whose spell is flung around us now ! Here saintly forms before us pass. Arrayed in bright celestial beams. Like visions seen in memory's glass. Whose smiles enchant our earthly dreams. What though a Century has flown Since first our fathers hither came, We see their faces — in our own — And kindle still their altar's flame ! AMONG THE HILLS. 157 And still 'mid shadows dimly trace, In every vale, hill-top, and glen, The hearths they trod with manly grace. And still revere those godly men, — The men who braved a savage foe. And prostrate laid the forest's pride ; Who thought it quite enough to know God's will, and take it for their guide. Yet, 'mid the windings of the hills And silent shadows of the vales. How sweet the music of the rills, That still the pilgrim's ear assails ! Though strangers in our Native Land, A welcome greets us without guile ; The hills extend a friendly hand, And valleys woo us with a smile. Like old familiar friends they seem. The mystic pine, the mountain-peak. The dreamy vale, and plaintive stream, That still to us in whispers speak. Thus, pilgrim-like, we come, and glean The golden memories treasured here, Yet feel that time can never wean Our hearts from scenes so fair and dear ! 158 SELECT POEMS. Beneath these same o'erarching skies Once more we look, with pure dehght, On sunny spots that charmed our eyes, And sportive fields that tried our might. Oh, happy days ! when we were young. When o'er these hills we trod the way, BHthe as the morning lark that sung. In daisied meads, his roundelay ! Even yet, like fairy-land, appear The shelving rock and haunted glade, And chestnut-groves to childhood dear, Where oft our footsteps we delayed. But where are now the favorite few. Who shared, amid these kindred hills, Our youthful sports and friendships true, Nor dreamed of life's impending ills? In boundless realms beyond the stars, Theirs now are skies of holier light, Where Truth her gate of pearl unbars. And blissful scenes regale the sight ! — God bless the land that gave us birth. Her many sons and daughters fair. The dearest land of all the earth. Where first we breathed the mountain air FREEDOM. 159 FREEDOM. Ah ! who recalls the dark, unhallowed deeds Which mark the sterner ages long gone by, Nor starts at wrongs o'er which the heart still bleeds When despots reigned, and bade their victims die, And vainly flowed the tear from Pity's eye? Though ours an age that's brighter, happier far, Yet half mankind still bow, they know not why, To sceptred power, or creeds they dare not mar ; Nor yet perceive the light that beams from Freedom's star. But why despair. There lives a spark divine Within man's breast, surviving earth and tears ; And, where the moral virtues rear their shrine. There heart to heart the social tie endears ; While Hope, whose star illumes the coming years, Inspires with loftier aims and nobler zeal Man's faith in man, and dissipates his fears. i6o SELECT POEMS. And nerves his arm to strike 'mid clashing steel For God and Truth, though empires to their centres reel. III. With smiling brow, and lip that breathed of peace, From Eden's sheltering bowers nymph-like she came, Nor found a genial clime, until in Greece She there of yore acquired a glorious name, — Freedom, whose pilgrimage is still of fame. And 'neath whose banner heroes fought and bled. Hurling the tyrants down to dust and shame Who scourged the land in which the Arts were bred, The land where still enshrined repose the mighty dead ! IV. In that illustrious age when Athens shone, And men the powers of earth and air adored. There breathed a martial spirit now unknown; And long, with undipped wing, that spirit soared, While human breasts with high resolves were stored. And valiant deeds were done of great renown ; An age in which mankind preferred the sword, And heroes strove to cleave stern heroes down. Nor yet appeased the gods, who swayed by smile or frown. FREEDOM. i6i V. Then came an age as sparkling as its wine, With mysteries which took the form of creeds, And vows were paid at many an honored shrine, While passion swayed the heart, and moral weeds. Like noxious plants that broadcast sow their seeds, Struck deep in genial soil, and ranklier grew ; Yet gods conversed with men, and Faith, that heeds The marvellous, believed, howe'er untrue, The dark responses which from unseen lips she drew. vr. Temples, from heights revered, o'erlooked the plain ; And patient Art, endowed with magic powers, Gave unto Parian marble life and brain. And sympathies which link the circhng hours Of time with classic beauty and with flowers ; Symbols which still attract our wondering eyes. And still recall the hstening groves and bowers Where sages calmly walked in humble guise, And held discourse with youth, and taught them to be wise. VII. And thus devout the philosophic Greek, Who loved his templed hills and sunny vales. 1 62 SELECT POEMS. Bequeathed to man, with spirit ever meek, Doctrines sublime whose logic still entails Its wealth, — a power that will, till blight assails The earth, expand, and chasten human thought; And yet how saddening were the hopeless wails Uttered of old, when cruel deeds were wrought. And tyrants gave command, and faith was sold and bought ! VIII. Yet he who aimed at empire ne'er had dreamed, When Rome's foundations were by him begun, What lasting glory o'er him distant streamed The while his warlike deeds were nobly done, And stratagem the Sabine women won ; But when the city from her throne of hills Beheld her fire-eyed eagles pierce the sun. She seized on power that does whate'er it wills, Nor kept her plighted faith, nor heeded human ills. IX. Still, in her better days, stern men were bred, — Patriots who loved their country but too well, And who unawed the flame of Freedom fed, Till luxury and vice, with conquering spell. Crept in, and fearful woes the state befell. FREEDOM. 163 And yet the Eternal City lives, though shorn Of ancient power, her name and fame to tell ; While 'mid her ruins shadows stalk forlorn, A.nd point at her degenerate sons with silent scorn. X. Alas ! with all his pride and pomp and power. The law of love nor Greek nor Roman knew : Though martial glory crowned his triumph hour 'Mid trophies which attracted public view. Though oft proclaimed a hero brave and true, 'Twas not enough ; for his ambition's aim Still fired his soul, as still the sword he drew; And thus led on by that enchantress, Fame, He. sought to rank with gods, and, craved a deathless name. XI. Freedom, whose cradle was the fearful storm, As ages rolled, and darkness slow retired. Maintained her faith, and, with affections warm. Became at length of holier truths inspired, And, clad in sacred armor, never tired. But still, with frenzied eye and proud disdain. Repelled her foes, and won a fame desired ; Nor from her shield erased the crimson stain. But wide, and wider still, extended her domain. 1 64 SELECT POEMS. xn. And men grew wiser, better, as the flame On Freedom's altar burned with clearer light ; And though dark years with darker errors came, And fierce crusades with hate and venomed spite, Though many a hero, mail-clad, fell in fight, Yet Christian temples rose to bless the land. While truth prevailed by force of moral might ; And, as the slumbering fires of faith were fanned. E'en mitred priest at last relaxed his grasping hand. xiir. And moral heroes, weaned from mystic fear. Flung off disguise, and strove with iron will Their favorite creeds to herald far and near : Yet strife begat but strife, with woes that chill The manliest heart, 'mid scenes of glen and hill. Where many a martyr, rash in conflict, fell. And tinged with crimson flowed the mountain rill ; And where, 'mid desolation's brooding spell. The spirit of the past, still ruthless, seems to dwell XIV. 'Twas thus, in proudest lands of earher time, When Freedom held at best imperfect sway, FREEDOM. 165 That seeds were sown, which yet in every clime Will spring to life as dawns the genial day, When kings retire, and slavish creeds give way. But when from Europe sailed her daring son, Who sought and found in all its wild array A Western world, how great the blessing won ! How great in years which yet shall in their circles run ! XV. What though in later times the queenly isle. That jealous mistress of the treasured sea. Assumed an unrelenting power the while. And bade her subjects bend a supphant knee ; What though she did not leave opinions free : There lived stern men e'en then, an honest few. Who, taught by conscience, ever scorned to be The dupes of royal pride ; their rights they knew, And, knowing them, remained to God and Freedom true. XVI, * The Puritans, so called with meaning sneer. Had struggled long and daringly, though vain, Against the sceptre's scourge : nor ceased they here ; For Hope had flung her rainbow o'er the main, And pointed to a land without a stain. But still the pure affections of the heart 1 66 SELECT POEMS. Endeared to them the mountain and the plain, Their native chme, from whicli 'twas hard to part, And leave their fathers' graves for wilds where terrors start. Yet when relentless wrong hath nerved the arm, And stirred the soul, and waked the spirit there. Men break their chains ; nor can the tyrant calm The rising storm, nor curb the brave who dare Defend their dearest rights with bosoms bare. How blest the world when tyranny shall yield To stern reform, and all the nations share A purer faith, and, trusting in the shield Of virtue, see a manhood nobler yet revealed ! XVIII. The Pilgrims now convened on ocean's strand, And knelt to Heaven, yet hngered long to gaze On friends and skies they loved, like Israel's band Whose pathway was the sea in ancient days. The parting hour had come : beneath the blaze Of autumn's sun they bade a last farewell To Britain's isle, and launched without amaze Upon the billowy deep where dangers dwell. And spread their sails to winds that sighed o'ei ocean's swell. FREEDOM. 167 xrx. Westward the star of empire led the way, Destined to glow within a broader sky, And flash with light which yet shall fling its ray Afar o'er earth's domain where shadows He, Inspiring hope and joy that will not die. Yes, with a faith which gave them faith in man, Heroes upon that star now fixed their eye. And in the future saw the God-hke plan Which God himself had traced, whose truth inspired the van. XX. Hope gave them cheer, and "waved her golden hair." Onward the voyagers ploughed the trackless sea, 'Mid storm and tempest and the lightning's glare, Resolved to bend to none but God the knee. And after many days they joyed to see Columbia's hills ; nor yielded to the shock When woodlands rang with shouts of savage glee ; But calm and trustful still that Pilgrim flock Now disembarked, and consecrated Plymouth Rock ; XXI. The rock that's firmly planted by the sea. Prescribing bounds where proudest waves are stayed ; 1 68 SELECT POEMS. The landmark which was set to liberty When earth's foundations broad and deep were laid ; The rock on which erst stepped the Pilgrim maid ^ Who led the way with smiles that ever cheer; The spot that's guarded still by Freedom's blade ; Where oft the patriot drops a grateful tear, And breathes the honored names of those who slumber near, — XXII. Names that will live when centuries depart, And still in moral virtue faith inspire, And back to many a patriot's throbbing heart Respond with balmy lip, as child to sire, Waking within the soul the hallowed fire That ever prompts the brave, who dare reclaim Their Heaven-born rights, despite the tyrant's ire. 'Twas here the Pilgrims reared with purest aim Altars to God, and ht them up with Freedom's flame. XXIII. Though girt with forests and a mountain chain Whose slopes and glens, and secret caverns dark. Had ever been the red man's wild domain. The Pilgrims clung to hope's expiring spark. And struggled with their foes, and set the mark FREEDOM. 169 Of empire there on Ocean's circling strand, And, like the chosen few who left the ark, Went forth to scatter blessings through the land, And rear the tree of Liberty with fostering hand. XXIV. When Freedom, plumed for glory's bright career, Had been restrained, there woke a quenchless flame ; And men stood forth, unawed by taunt or sneer. Who sought the battle-field, and won a name That will not die, — a proud, immortal fame. Dread days ! when rallying trump and drum were heard. And traitors bore, like Cain, the mark of shame Upon their brows ; when Britain's ire was stirred. And e'en the patriot's hope seemed hopelessly deferred. XXV. Yet sentiments that flashed from patriot pen Startled the world, and vexed the royal ear, And, hke a message sent from Heaven to men, Illumed in eyes, unused to weep, the tear; The immortal scroll, which freemen still revere, And all mankind respect, — a trust that's thine And mine : betray it not, nor yield to fear. lyo SELECT POEMS. But still make Freedom's cause a cause divine, A.nd ever pure shall burn the flame that lights her shrine. XXVI. 'Twas in those days that men of iron nerve Proved to the world their courage and their worth ; And they were men whom threats nor gold could swerve From duty, — Nature's noblemen by birth, — Who in defence of life and cherished hearth, And altars burning bright with sacred fires. Poured out their blood upon the crimsoned earth, A free libation to their high desires, And love of right, which in the true heart ne'er expires. xxvii. And though but few, yet, resolute and strong, Our banded sires withstood the invading foe. And, 'neath their country's banner, struggled long, Led on through varied scenes of blood and woe, 'Mid battle-smoke and cannon's fiery glow. By him whose gallant deeds were ne'er outdone. And who at Yorktown struck the final blow : Glorious as great the triumph which was won For man, for freedom, and the land of Washington ! FREEDOM. 171 XXVIII. For human weal or woe, sublime the trust Reposed in those who rule our favored land. And yet temptations, such as spring from lust Of power, or love of fame, how few withstand ! How few whose virtues may not be unmanned ! But still there's hope in Freedom's sacred cause, While firmly leagued the sisterhood shall stand, And men bear sway who seek not vain applause. Nor yield to sordid aims, but dare maintain the laws. xxrx. In schools of learning scattered far and wide, And cherished fanes that skyward lift their spires, In zeal for truth that's based on virtue's pride, In brotherhood, and love, and pure desires. And generous hearts that burn with Freedom's fires, Consist our country's hope and future weal ; And, while we bless the memory of our sires, For earth's oppressed still let us kindly feel. And speed the day when none to tyrant power shall kneel. 172 SELECT POEMS. OLD FOLKS' FESTIVAL. Still pilgrims in a favored land, Who long have lingered on the way, How blest to meet and grasp the hand. And crown with joy our festive day ! — And tell of years whose scenes return, Like shadows on our pathway cast ; And catch, from living lips that burn. The fleeting memories of the past. And while we trace from whence we sprung. And early friendships fain renew, Still let us dream that we are young, And, though a dream, believe it true ! Nor days forget when first we heard Life's battle-cry, and sought the field; When lofty aims our bosoms stirred, And faith had armed us with her shield. OLD FOLKS FESTIVAL. 173 'Twas courage, then, with youthful zeal, That led us onward, flushed with pride j 'Tis years, now ripe, that make us feel How swiftly glides life's ebbing tide ! Yet while we here prolong our stay. We'll keep our pledge of love and truth ; And when we pass the darkened way. Ascend and share immortal youth ! NOTES. NOTES. 177 NOTES. Note I. — Page 7. " Breathes of the past, 'tis consecrated ground." Mount Vernon, consecrated as the home of Washington, is pleasantly situated in the county of Fairfax, Virginia, on the south bank of the Potomac, and has an elevation of two hun- dred feet above the surface of the river, which at this point is two miles wide. The old family mansion, which crowns the hill, was originally built by Washington's uncle, who gave it the name of " Mount Vernon " in honor of Admiral Vernon, under whom he had served in the British navy. Note 2. — Page 8. " Though but a lowly shrine." The object of the most intense interest to visitors, at Mount Vernon is, of course, the tomb of Washington. It is situated in a lovely retreat on the hillside, and, though not seen from the river, is suddenly disclosed to view as you ascend the hill from the landing. This retired yet hallowed spot is sprinkled with wild flowers and shaded by the dark cedar and the stately oak, and was 178 NOTES. selected, it is said, by Washington himself, for the purpose to which it has been appropriated. The tomb is of moderate dimensions and of plain exterior, constructed of brick, with an iron door of open-work, through which you can see in the inte- rior two marble sarcophagi arranged side by side, one of which contains the remains of George Washington, and the other those of Martha his wife. Note 3. — Page 8. "But turn where stands the hall In which the chieftain dwelt of yore." The Mount-Vernon estate still remains much as it was in the days of Washington. With a view to its preservation, it has been purchased by an association. It should belong to the nation. Note 4. — Page 12. " While tears with magic power In silence fell, like dewdrops on the flower." Speaking of Lafayette's visit in 1S24 to the tomb of Wash- ington, Mr. Lavasseur, who was present, says in his corre- spondence, that Lafayette descended alone into the vault, and, in a few minutes after, re-appeared with his eyes overflowing with tears. This occurred at the old tomb from which the remains were afterwards removed to the new tomb where they now rest. Note 5. — Page 14. " Flung back from hill to hill with wild delight! " Mr. Sparks, in his "Life of Washington," remarks in refer- ence to the success of the American arras at the battle of Tren- NOTES. 179 ton, that " the despondency which had weighed heavily on the minds of the people was dispelled as by a charm, the martial spirit revived, and a new animation infused into the public councils." Note 6. — Page 16. " But now, from proffered kingly crown, With scorn he turned away." A short time before the American army was disbanded at the close of the Revolution, a colonel in the service, " of a highly respectable character, and somewhat advanced in age," as the agent of those engaged in the scheme, communicated to Gen. Washington a very flattering proposal to permit himself to be made king over the American people ; to which the general indignantly replied in the following characteristic letter, as noble and patriotic in sentiment as it is beautiful in style : — Newburg, 22 May, 1782. Sir, — With a mixture of great surprise and astonishment, I have read with attention the sentiments you have submitted to my perusal. Be assured, sir, no occurrence in the course of the war has given me more painful sensations than your information of there being such ideas existing in the army as you have expressed, and which I must view with abhorrence, and reprehend with severity. For the present, the communication of them will rest in my own bosom, unless some further agitation of the matter shall make a disclosure necessary. I am at a loss to conceive what part of my conduct could have given en- couragement to an address which to me seems big with the greatest mischiefs that can befall my country. If I am not deceived in the knowledge of myself, you could not have found a person to whom your schemes are more disagreea- ble. At the same time, in justice to my own feelings, I must add, that no man possesses a more sincere wish to see ample justice done to the army than I do; and as far as my power and influence, in a constitutional way, extend. l8o NOTES. they shall be employed to the utmost of my abilities to effect it, should there be any occasion. Let me conjure you, then, if you have any regard for your country, concern for yourself or posterity, or respect for me, to banish these thoughts from your mind, and never communicate, as from yourself or any one else, a sentiment of the like nature. I am, sir, &c., George Washington. Note 7. — Page 17. " How vain the lofty tower." Alluding to the Washington Monument in the city of Wash- ington, Notes. — Page 168. " The rock on which erst stepped the Pilgrim maid." Dr. Thacher, in his " History of the Town of Plymouth," states that, " ' The Mayflower ' having arrived in the harbor from Cape Cod, Mary Chilton entered the first landing boat, and, looking forward, exclaimed, ' I will be the first to step on that rock ! ' Accordingly, vifhen the boat approached, Mary Chilton was permitted to be the first from the boat who ap- peared on the rock." SELECT POEMS. By HAKVEY RICE. NOTICES OF THE PRESS. " ' Select Poems,' recently published by Lee & Shepard, Boston, pp. 174, 12mo, are from the pen of Hon. Harvey Rice of Cleveland, O., and author of 'Nature and Culture,' published by the same firm in 1875, and which contained several essays on those subjects worthy of the deepest consideration. " In the volume now before us, the same love and admiration of all things good, noble, patriotic, and beautiful, are to be observed; and we wish that some of our magazine-writers would take pattern by the plain, almost severe, Saxon verbiage in which the deepest thought and most vivid fancy find expression." — Journal of Commerce, Boston. "A second edition indicates the public estimate of these piquant, graceful, and, in many regards, beautiful creations. We still think that 'Unwritten Music' rightfully fills the first place. It is simply ex- quisite." — Christian Leader, Boston. "Among the best of the long poems are 'The Mystery of Life,' 'Mount Vernon,' 'Ancestral Portraits,' 'Home of my Youth,' and ' Freedom.' The short poems are all good, some of them being perfect gems." — Eastern Argus, Portland, Me. " A collection of original poems, all of which are pleasing in struc- ture, pure and elevated in sentiment, vigorous and refined in diction, and faultless in numbers. The religion is that of the natural man, the morality that of works, the sympathy tender, and the wit general. The lovers of good poetry will relish the feast."— Epis. Recorder, Phil. " Mr. Eice writes true poetry." — New - York Methodist. LEE AND SHEPARD, Publishers.