PS 3545 
 .0475 
 R4 
 1912 
 Copy 1 
 
 Reflections 
 
 Flora Williams Wood 
 
Reflections 
 
 by 
 
 Flora Williams Wood 
 
 From 
 
 The Land of Dreams 
 
 "INDIANA" 
 
 n n 
 
 "The weaver sits weaving, and as the shuttle flies, the cloth 
 increases, and the figures grow, and he dreams dreams, mean- 
 while. —Lew Wallace 
 

 llf^ 
 
 FLORA WILLIAMS WOOD 
 
 (f^r.i'ARR28 69 
 
I. 
 
Copyright 1912. by 
 
 Flora Williams Wood 
 
 ilkhabt, indiana 
 
 Art Printins Co. 
 
 CI-KHART 
 
/F we pause for a moment to gather the memory gems 
 which are strewn so promiscuously along life's way, 
 
 we find that our little acts, our thoughts, our deeds, 
 if caught in the moment of their origin, become butterflies 
 of existence emerging from the chrysalis, the mind. 
 
 Some lives are pure aphorisms, others poems, while a 
 great many are one long discordant note, without a pretty 
 symphony from Prelude to Fine. 
 
 It is a delight to live, to live rightly, for life is all so 
 sweet, that we cannot help being blest while we breathe 
 the fresh air and inhale the fragrance of the flowers in 
 their rich and lustrous splendor, when we follow the sun- 
 sets, while the last harmonious tints slip down below the 
 horizon, veiled in the glorious haze of the summer days as 
 they pass along, the delicate afterglow reminding one of 
 the fond mother as she watches the rose petaledlids other 
 darling child, sink lower and lower on the velvet cheek in 
 sweet goodnight. 
 
 Life, then, is really a vision of glory, a beautiful 
 dream of delight, for the gladness of the earth is ours, 
 the days may come and the days may go, each marking 
 the passing events in the swift succession of years. 
 
 Then let our hearts go singing on like a pretty brook 
 preparing for the year each hopeful and happy day, let us 
 plan earnestly and with ever increasing zest for the years 
 to come, as if sorrow or disappointment had never entered 
 our lives, that when we look out through the sheltering 
 heavens of blue, we may see the silver at noon, and the 
 tender purple light of the setting of the sun. 
 
 So, with ever a sunlight vision of another and better 
 world before ua, and a hopeful and happy trust within us, 
 that God will help us bear whatever comes of joy or sorrow 
 mortal life becomes the suggestive, entrancing prelude to 
 the "glad new song" that will make the eternities full of 
 new and ever increasing ecstasies. 
 
Yea, let all good things await 
 
 Him who cares not to be great, 
 
 But as he saves or serves the state 
 
 Not once or twice in our rough island story, 
 
 The path of duty was the path to glory; 
 
 He that walks it, only thirsting 
 
 For the right, and learns to deaden 
 
 Love of self, before his journey closes. 
 
 He shall find the stubborn thistle bursting 
 
 Into glossy purples, v/liich outredden 
 
 All voluptuous garden roses. 
 
 — Tennyson. 
 
^relube 
 
 When the buds begin to blossom 
 And the trees are all in bloom 
 Then we know that it is summer 
 And we welcome back the June. 
 When the southern breezes blowing 
 Waft the song of bird and bee, 
 Fill our hearts to over-flowing 
 With sweet love and melody. 
 It is then our hearts are happy 
 When the vernal days have come, 
 To rejoice in mutual gladness 
 Count cur blessings one by one. 
 
10 Reflections 
 
 fife's Wa^ 
 
 The world so broad and beautiful, life's mystery- 
 holds in hand 
 
 So many things we'd like to know, yet cannot 
 understand, 
 
 Each have a mission to fulfill, a plan to carry 
 out. 
 
 Though many obstacles may come, our hopes 
 and plans to rout 
 
 While thro the dreamful tasks we seek, to find 
 life's mystic way 
 
 With eager yearning, learn the truths which 
 serve us best today. 
 
 The human mind, the greatest force which 
 seeks its rightful place. 
 
 For thoughts are things, that move the world, 
 and set a certain pace,- 
 
 Toward the haven for which we yearn, 'Tis heav- 
 en's ministry 
 
 That guides our frail bark 'cross the foam of 
 life's uncertain sea. 
 
 And yet, how strange life's banner looks, when 
 with its folds unfurled. 
 
 It floats above the din and toil of Time's great 
 busy world. 
 
 Life does not always see beneath, where lives 
 
 are dimmed and scarred. 
 Or know what wrongs have worked the change, 
 
 by which their souls are marred. 
 Some things creep in quite unawares, to change 
 
 life's pleasant way, 
 To make dark clouds o'er shadow all of life's 
 
 bright happy day; 
 Yet often too, our trials come to better and to 
 
 bless 
 Which for the time seemed strangely fraught 
 
 with pain and bitterness. 
 
 And yet, without these changes, life would be an 
 empty thing 
 
 And pleasures pall, and paralyze the faith to 
 which we cling, 
 
 Variety is the spice of life; we soon shall learn 
 to know 
 
 That, too, exceeds our greater share, of either 
 weal or woe. 
 
 And ever steadfast looking up toward the higher 
 things 
 
 'Mid shifting facts our lives disclose, its end- 
 less happenings. 
 
Reflections 11 
 
 It is the most by which we're blest, in being what 
 we are; 
 
 Contentment is true happiness, an ever brighten- 
 ing star. 
 
 For joy we'll find whate'er our lot, if we but 
 think it so; 
 
 The inner radiance of the heart great blessings 
 shall bestow. 
 
 And with the slpendor of the soul enrich the 
 mind's ideal, 
 
 Nor change it from its steadfast course, or make 
 the dream less real. 
 
 » n 
 
 L'ENVOI 
 
 Our mind the God in part, that we should heed. 
 That would supply for good our better need, 
 Our lives, the truest test of tide and time 
 Our thoughts, the guide-post and the marking- 
 line. 
 The compass o'er life's rough and stormy sea; 
 The power which enthralls, or sets us free. 
 Whose wild waves dash, to test the frailest bark 
 To sway at will or dim ambition's mark. 
 The test of life enables us to be 
 Awakened to its glorious ministry. 
 
 And those we love and whom we best admire. 
 Are those who conquer o'er the evil power. 
 Their will asbestos-like may touch the flame 
 Yet which, the fire may touch it cannot maim, 
 Beyond the part our conscience would ere spurn 
 The flames envelop all, yet never burn. 
 And always looking up toward higher things 
 Surround us with the inflnite, love's sweetest na- 
 ture brings. 
 Just to commune alone within the solitude 
 Oft calms the stormy heart to quiet mood. 
 
 We shape the way the best that we know how. 
 The rest submit to Him, and to the Inflnite bow, 
 The way marked out, the course that we pursue, 
 With our first footsteps start our journey through. 
 And child-hood's path-way points toward the goal 
 To write life's purest preface for the growing 
 
 soul. 
 And when, with story done, we sink to rest 
 Can we look up and say, we've done our best? 
 Our conscience-faithful judge.will give decree 
 And our deserts are measured out, accordingly. 
 
12 Reflection* 
 
 Nature's Retreat 
 
 Where the lavender wild flowers border long the 
 
 wooded way 
 And the blossoms of the autumn in abundance 
 
 hold full sway, 
 Sweet fringed gentian of the fall-time purple 
 
 crown'd and royal blue. 
 Enfold thy robes of richest color, emblem of 
 
 thy country true, 
 Scatter perfume thro the grasses in the sunshine 
 
 of the morn 
 Turn to gold the azure sunsets for the spring's 
 
 new hope is born. 
 
 Joy and pristine life together, 'mid the bird-land 
 
 and the bee 
 Where the heart communes forever with the 
 
 bird-harps symphony. 
 Oh, the law that shapes the primrose, grows 
 
 the bud from dew and rain 
 Falls the faded petals only soon to sink to earth 
 
 again. 
 To arise in a fair glory when the springtime is 
 
 anew 
 In the sunlight tinted petals, their full life of 
 
 joy imbue. 
 
 Where the sunlight in the shadow steals to gild 
 the summer dawn 
 
 And the sweet Azaleas blooming on the dew be- 
 jewelled lawn. 
 
 So the rnist fades from the valleys in the purple 
 dreamy haze 
 
 And the trill of happy bird songs sing delights of 
 other days, 
 
 O, the dancing shadows flitting 'cross the fields 
 of budding grain 
 
 Paint the violet and lily trophies of fair Nature's 
 gain. 
 
 n n 
 
 (Bttcbtv 
 
 The twilight fades upon the Autumn hills 
 The azure tinted sunset sparkles in the rills, 
 The trees and all the herbage changing hues 
 Of colors rare, enchanting joys our hearts infuse 
 O Glorious world! full Eden-like the sun shines 
 
 on the trees 
 Like molten gold, 'tis sifted thro, the leaves sail 
 
 on the breeze. 
 
Ref/fctrona 13 
 
 (Aiitumu ^cauea 
 
 A TOKEN 
 
 Apropos too, the archer true signals us to see 
 Fall's messenger of love, red, gold and brown, 
 Fringed the wooded way, with tender fern and 
 
 fading fen. 
 And fluttering wings of late birds flying by, 
 A bold Kill-dee, perchance a butterfly. 
 The odorous scent of hickory leaves and frag- 
 rant fallow-land 
 Florescent with wild flowers fair and sweet. 
 And deep within the briar-scented hedge 
 Some red leaves, shining thro and berries too. 
 Autumn buds, from sweet brier turn'd to brown. 
 Unhappiness! there is no word like that among 
 
 these things. 
 Unfairness, too, must wend its way on brilliant 
 
 wings 
 Beside the priceless joys of Autumn days. 
 Which emulate and bend the will to grace. 
 To love, to revel in the rareness of it? flowery 
 ways. 
 
 ^ Hater ^gmplr 
 
 O Neptune's charm of the fairy wave under the 
 sea so blue. 
 
 You mock my heart with your sacred art when- 
 ever I dream of you, 
 
 O Undine fair, of the fabled song, you water- 
 spirit brave 
 
 Swing in your hammock of sea-weed green and 
 rock on the billowy wave! 
 
 Oberon the king of the fairies, will dance by the 
 light of the moon. 
 
 And tempt me to join in your wild delight, with 
 the love of thy heart commune. 
 
 You will dance on the waves of the coral strand, 
 there by the moaning sea; 
 
 And bid me away, with a wave of your hand, 
 with a gleeful ecstasy. 
 
 O love of the sea, come back to me, and dance 
 with the fairies old. 
 
 Of the elfin fair let the spirit charm, and make 
 you forever bold. 
 
 And the wild sea moan shall be your home, 
 there in the rolling deep, 
 
 The sea-weed cradle shall be your bed, and the 
 billows rock you to sleep. 
 
14 Reflactiona 
 
 f as2 It |lg 
 
 If your heart aches, sad and lonely, 
 And your thoughts come with a sigh. 
 Say the word! I'll overcome it, 
 With all care, I'll pass it by. 
 
 Yes, I'll thrust aside the evil 
 That would mar my happiness; 
 That would dwarf the best that's in me, 
 Would destroy, instead of bless. 
 
 For what's the use of meditating. 
 Asking trials to stay with you? 
 What's the use of trying to cherish 
 Friendship that has proved untrue? 
 
 Friends who prove not worth the keeping, 
 Who have valued not your good, — 
 Pass them by, like days departed 
 When at last you've understood. 
 
 Make new friends, and soon forget them. 
 As while yet the moments fly 
 If they do not heed your efforts; 
 Do not grieve, but pass it by. 
 
 Keep on hoping, pushing onward, 
 Life's too short to sit and pine; 
 Do your best, be not despondent 
 For the right will come in time. 
 
 — Copied in Palestine, Jerusalem, from 
 Word and Works, April 1912. 
 
 ^ Primrose ^atli 
 
 Where daisies dot the meadow all the way. 
 And nightingales peal forth their round-de-ley. 
 With sweet low note the martin calls his tune. 
 And loving nature rests in sweet commune. 
 
 The golden sunlight gleams amid the fern 
 In quietude, the turmoil quick to spurn; 
 The meadow carpeted in forest green 
 A silver threaded brooklet winds between. 
 
 The silence is sweet music to the ear, 
 
 And rest, in Nature's elysian sphere, 
 
 The fragrance of a primrose path among 
 
 The mosses, where the buds have lately sprung. 
 
Reflections IS 
 
 Wear tlje maam? 
 
 Why wear the gloom and all too soon 
 
 Go brook the sorrows waiting? 
 
 And restless wait, though grief abate 
 
 The joyful reinstating; — 
 
 Of pleasure ways and happy days 
 
 That's always sure to follow, — 
 
 The blustering winds that blow betimes, 
 
 O'er dark and dismal hollow. 
 
 This thought imbue, for it is true 
 Though dark the day be dawning. 
 The sunshine clears, uo need for fears, 
 There comes another morning. 
 'Tis half and half, to cry to laugh, 
 The sum of life's existence, 
 'Tis weal or woe, where'er you go 
 A full share of remittance. 
 
 'Tis those who mourn, who have out-bourne 
 
 The seed of patience growing, 
 
 Who calmly wait the chance of fate 
 
 The proper time of sowing, 
 
 But the cherished now. In pleasure bow 
 
 Don't wait another moon-time. 
 
 Right now begin, let sunshine in, 
 
 Don't always wear the gloom-sign. 
 
 n n 
 
 ^ Pesire 
 
 There let me rest, for one brief time 
 Forgetting all the world; 
 Where rippling brooks 'neath shady nooks, 
 The meadow, flower be-pearl'd. 
 
 O, let me breathe the scent of thyme. 
 And mints by sylvan dells, 
 Where nature sleeps and every song 
 A tender secret tells. 
 
 « » 
 
 Our perseverance should resemble the diligent 
 spider, who, as often as it is destroyed weaves 
 again and again its web. It teaches us a lesson 
 against every difficulty, to build over and over 
 again in preparation for the purpose we have in 
 view, and to never yield to discouragement. 
 
16 Rtflections 
 
 Paga f ike ^Ijcac 
 
 The spicy wood, the glorious sun 
 Invite to haunts where brooklets run, 
 And inmost there, whole-souled and free, 
 I wander in sweet ecstasy. 
 
 I claim my own in days like these 
 Companioned with the birds and trees, 
 Quiescent there, the world aglow 
 With rarely brilliant autumn show. 
 
 I follow down the leaf strewn way 
 And mark the beauteous closing day, 
 The whole world glows in sweet content 
 A rival to the firmament. 
 
 The glittering rays of autumn's sun 
 Spiced with odors there among. 
 The hedges where the wild thrush weaves 
 His nest in spring, 'neath branching leaves. 
 
 I view with poignant fleeting sense 
 The fluttering leaf, its message hence. 
 And with a feeling propagate 
 My soul vehement spurns the state. 
 
 Recipient of the late "Good-bies" 
 
 When flocks of birds soon south-ward hies, 
 
 And impulse quickens lest I know 
 
 The noiseless route they choose to go. 
 
 And O my friends, beside the stream 
 Lay siege my heart to lonely dream. 
 The luring way, yet calls me on 
 Still greatly loved when you are gone. 
 
 To this same place you will come back 
 In time, to trace the same old track. 
 So fare-thee-well, I soon must know 
 That prophesy ordains it so. 
 
 And reticent in sweet content 
 Accept to my emolument. 
 Receptive all as nature sees 
 The perfect way, in days like these. 
 
 n tx 
 
 There are many antipathies in life. People 
 like flies walking with their heads downward, 
 fearful to look up lest they come in contact with 
 the ghosts of their imagination — cowards to their 
 own soul! 
 
Reflections 17 
 
 Ifllottifra for '^oftag 
 
 Scatter the flowers of sunshine > 
 
 Scatter them now today 
 
 Lest the one that you love may wander 
 
 Far from your side away. 
 
 Yes, scatter the fair sweet blossoms 
 
 O'er the paths where the weary ones stray 
 
 To brighten and cheer them in sorrow 
 
 To gladden their desolate way. 
 
 No use for the flowers tomorrow 
 We have need for them only today 
 If you wait, perhaps you may place them 
 O'er the grave where the loved ones lay 
 Sleeping so peaceful and quiet 
 They know not the words you say 
 Then scatter the words of kindness 
 Yes, scatter the flowers today. 
 — Permission of Word and Works Pub. Co. 
 
 Mv (Sifts 
 
 I empty the contents of mind and heart 
 
 Thoughts of assorted kind. 
 
 And hope as I scatter them all broadcast 
 
 Some beauty in each you will find; 
 
 There are gems I have sought in Nature's bower 
 
 Treasures of thoughtful care. 
 
 Trophies of love I've kept for this hour 
 
 And brought to you all a share. 
 
 You will find a thought from the meadow fair, 
 
 A thought from the wooded dell. 
 
 And a thought from the dear old orchard there 
 
 Where a gleam of the sunshine fell, 
 
 I bring you a gem from the tiny stream 
 
 That flows through the meadow land. 
 
 And narrows down to a silvery gleam 
 
 On the bright and glittering strand. 
 
 There's a message too, from the robin brown 
 
 That wheels his eager flight. 
 
 And brings to spring a welcome crown 
 
 'Neath the banks of warm sunlight, 
 
 And I found a lily one sweet spring day 
 
 Peeping out from the fern leaf dell 
 
 I tucked it close to my heart away 
 
 In love's casket there to dwell. 
 
18 Reflections 
 
 I put with my treasures a violet too, 
 
 Tucked deep in the mossy green 
 
 That I brought from out of the pastures new 
 
 Where many more were seen, 
 
 There's a pink and white sweet clover bloom 
 
 And a handful of daisies too; 
 
 I've found a place and for all have room 
 
 Think I've done pretty well, don't you? 
 
 And here again, in the midst of all 
 Will you find among the rest, 
 A tiny note of youngibird's call 
 High up from the tree top's crest, 
 It brings a message of spring-tide dear, — 
 This song from the apple trees. 
 Rings out each note so sweet and clear 
 Mid the hum of the busy bees, — 
 
 That nestle among the springtime bloom 
 
 To bend each blossom down, 
 
 And gather the sweets of their rich perfume 
 
 'Mid their petals of rose tint crown, 
 
 There's a tender sigh from the sobbing pine 
 
 That wailed in the dying breeze 
 
 But I left it there, for I could not find 
 
 A place for it here among these. 
 
 The gladsome things of my heart's deep joy 
 
 I want only the truth of love, 
 
 I gather no tears for the heart's annoy 
 
 But God's true blessings above, 
 
 "I've kept a tryst with the murmuring leaves" 
 
 Said love, to the rippling stream, 
 
 "Because there is joy in the summer breeze 
 
 And life in the daylight dream." 
 
 I've gathered the twinkle of distant stars. 
 And folded them in at night 
 Out of the far-away realm of Mars 
 Neath the shadow of pale moonlight, 
 I've brought you a pillow of petals rare 
 That I shook from the rose leaves light. 
 And a few sweet dreams, to dream alway 
 As they scent your sleep at night. 
 
 I've brought you a cup of the morning dew 
 
 To drink of its nectar at eve. 
 
 To moisten the buds and the flowers too, 
 
 And sprinkle each tiny leaf, 
 
 I've brought you a scent of the sweet spring rain 
 
 As it trickled a-down the vine. 
 
 And pattered against the window pane 
 
 By the porch where the roses climb. 
 
Reflections 19 
 
 And I've gathered a square of velvet moss 
 For a carpet soft and neat, 
 To make lighter the troublesome way across 
 Where gladness and sorrow meet. 
 And I found a speck of heaven's blue sky- 
 Just where the sun came out. 
 While a dark little shadow flitted by 
 With a sad neglected pout. 
 
 For sighs and shadows I have no room 
 
 'Mong the gifts I offer you, 
 
 I have not garnered the heart's sad gloom 
 
 Naught but refreshing thoughts imbue. 
 
 There's a song of joy from the thankful hearts 
 
 I have snugly tucked within. 
 
 And I bring you the hope, glad truth imparts 
 
 Of love's great discipline. 
 
 I've gathered them all in a fair boquet 
 
 Gems from Nature's bower sweet, 
 
 And think when I've found your smiles of love 
 
 My treasures will be complete. 
 
 For 'tis most in the blessing that we receive, 
 
 Which makes the gifts most dear 
 
 That however small be the gratitude. 
 
 Shall the giver be sincere. 
 
 ^rccepte 
 
 Across the drifts the wild winds blow. 
 
 O'er fields of ice and frost and snow 
 
 The bleak wild waves from storm-tossed sea, 
 
 Brings back the echo o'er the lea: 
 
 And there upon the wave-washed shore 
 
 Leaves trackless space forevermore. 
 
 As true dissensions in a dream 
 Means more than ever it may seem 
 Intuition, is the stronger hold 
 Of intellect's most proper mould, 
 And, if you think to quick deceive. 
 The fault is yours, pray then believe. 
 You are the fool more than you think 
 Then halt before you reach the brink. 
 The lessons then that you would teach 
 Pray learn them well, before you preach. 
 
 The world's a critic you must know 
 What seed is best and where to sow. 
 Unless the soil is good and rich 
 
20 Reflections 
 
 You might as well sow in the ditch, 
 The same is true with effort brave 
 That sometimes it is best to save — 
 For waste of strength will wear you out, 
 Where Ignorance is, without a doubt, 
 Swine swallow pearls like peas; then, pray, 
 Cast not your treasures in their way, 
 And you will have the empty husk 
 Your riches ground into the dust. 
 
 So brave the effort while the test — 
 Of strength is left to do your best. 
 Go sing where music's caroled note 
 Responds an echo from each throat. 
 From song-birds home within the dell 
 Your rightful kingdom there to dwell. 
 Try not to live in silence reign 
 Humbleness' sphere your only gain, 
 It is not right to dwarf the spell 
 Ambitions sleep within the dell, 
 That kills all life and sucks the blood 
 With debris makes a sweeping flood, 
 And there you stand alone a wreck 
 Immersed at last up to your neck. 
 With no chance left for your escape, 
 A victim fast of cruel fate. 
 
 But hie away to sylvan dells 
 
 Where each bird-note in rythm swells 
 
 And sings aloud to those who hear 
 
 Appreciation's friendly ear. 
 
 No use to sing these tuneful notes 
 
 When to deaf ears the music floats; 
 
 No use to bend the arrow true, 
 
 Until the game you have in view; 
 
 No use to raise the voice and roar 
 
 When half the congregation snore. 
 
 No use to lock the door secure 
 
 When from free access, thieves procure — 
 
 Your every wealth the best you have 
 
 Leave naught, not e'en the healing salve — 
 
 Of hope, or trace, which you might gain 
 
 Your treasures for you back again. 
 
 'Tis only when you're sure you know. 
 Success is yours, why then bestow? 
 Where always ever you must rout — 
 Suspense, forever live in doubt, 
 Go take the ox then by the horns 
 And fight against all odds and storms, 
 Far better that, than slow decay 
 Which in the end kills anyway. 
 
Reflections 21 
 
 Fight for the right, e'en tho you fall, 
 A calm will follow every squall. 
 The tide comes in, the tide goes out 
 For every rainy season, drought, 
 For every tumult there is peace, 
 For every sorrow, sweet surcease, 
 The opposite for everything 
 For every joy there is a sting 
 There's hate and love, and joy and woe 
 Reverse of things, where'er we go. 
 
 The world goes round its orbit true. 
 
 Why not a chance for me and you? 
 
 Uphold the right and have an aim 
 
 A purpose true, to justly claim. 
 
 And if that aim be true and brave 
 
 Why not respect from e'en a knave? 
 
 For "Right is Right" since God is just 
 
 If we but in the adage trust. 
 
 And dwell where'er the sunshine beams, 
 
 For in the shadow, slumber dreams, 
 
 And in dark cellars lizards live 
 
 Where'er the place the substance give. 
 
 If then a lizard you would be 
 
 Dwell in the dark eternally. 
 
 But if you would your colors show 
 
 Dwell in the sunlight's golden glow, 
 
 As light gives color to the rose 
 
 So intellect the minds' disclose. 
 
 And learning's light to guide thee on 
 
 Where laurels brave are freely won. 
 
 The joy of knowing is to be. 
 
 Resplendent with sweet ecstasy. 
 
 Come out into the light and live. 
 Mix socially, your talents give. 
 To those who need a tiny share — 
 Of just such gifts, as you may bear. 
 Who do not know which way to turn 
 Until from you these lessons learn. 
 Health cannot be where shadows are, 
 Nor peace, where rages din and war. 
 Where dark the poison germs abide. 
 And creeping things 'neath barrels hide. 
 Dissension oft will dwarf the mind 
 Unless we dwell among our kind. 
 Magnanimous the gift to be 
 Not only from a heart so free. 
 It does not mean that you should pay 
 Twice o'er the value, the same day. 
 But gives so free his little mite. 
 Then puts the question far from sight. 
 
22 Reflections 
 
 There's nothing but shame in deceit and vain 
 
 show, 
 Like the water snake's colors, 'tis pretty but Oh, 
 Its sting is the poison concealed in the slime 
 Which deadens the soul to all beauty in time, 
 A sibilant serpent creeping along 
 'Mid the gay, unsuspecting and innocent throng. 
 
 The world is a dream, the truth it misgives 
 Knowing not fully how the other half lives, 
 The untried way of the world between 
 Where little of life has ne'er been seen, 
 The treacherous bait of the evil way 
 Rebukes the just for the unjust prey. 
 And the world moves on with a timely pace 
 Not knowing an atom of its disgrace. 
 
 Give us the nature with expansive view. 
 That penetrates the ethereal thro and thro, 
 The soul that flows serene like a song 
 Whose music echoes far and long. 
 
 The secretive heart alone betrays — 
 
 The lonely winding of its ways, 
 
 And dwarf'd and old the visage throws — 
 
 A mysterious light, where'er it goes. 
 
 You wonder why, yet do not know 
 
 Why warmth comes not from its steady glow. 
 
 But the light of the soul of the free, sincere. 
 
 Envelops us all, in its glad sphere. 
 
 And warms the heart with assurance strong 
 
 Of sympathy and love, for which we long. 
 
 The thread in the weave of the golden cloth 
 Disturbs not the joy of the sleeping moth. 
 And he nibbles away in his snug little home 
 Like the grub that turns in the murky loam. 
 But the ruin wrought you will see in time 
 Where 'tis nibbled close in the fabric fine, 
 So evil betrays in the after while. 
 The childish sweetness of a smile. 
 And the truths that are buried shall rise again 
 Like the moist earth follows the summer rain. 
 And right shall be righted again in its rank. 
 Hypocrisy leveled, where perfidy sank — 
 To the depths of its woe, it returns again 
 To writhe with its sisters, in sorrow and pain. 
 
 The ungodly walk with a dignified air. 
 His unnatural pose an ineffable snare. 
 O'er his evil way he travels awhile 
 
Reflections 23 
 
 And traces his victims for many a mile, 
 But, his skill for the time is springing the trap 
 To catch in the rebound, with a metallic snap — 
 The unworthy hero, who burdens the soil — 
 With his useless wandering and injurious toil, 
 In the grave he has dug for others to fill 
 Shall perish his bones, the mint for the till; 
 Corrupt with his vice, he shall meet the last 
 
 hour 
 And with loathing detest his own wicked power. 
 
 At his own game beaten, he has found all too 
 
 late 
 That his evil intent is his ruinous fate. 
 That goodness alone, survives the last hour, 
 The time that is given to blossom the flower. 
 The things that outlast the passing of time 
 Are goodness and truth, which the ages define — 
 As the food, which nourishes the body so strong 
 And gives it a place midst the heavenly throng. 
 
 The wicked, for only a time very brief 
 
 Shall succeed as a despot who soon comes to 
 
 grief. 
 Vain glory is theirs, they reap what they sow — 
 Either flowers or thistles, the seed it will grow — 
 And bear them the fruit full ripe in its time 
 To bless or to curse them, the music will chime, 
 They have tuned up the fiddle, the music will 
 
 float 
 With thythm or discord as becoming the note. 
 And so, with the reverse of life's weal and woe 
 We find that true justice will nature bestow. 
 
 The earth is our own for a time to command. 
 For industry only, the idle but stand 
 For the perishable things, that rust and decay 
 And count their time only, a night and a day. 
 The rose in its beauty blooms full with a joy 
 That only completness of time shall destroy. 
 But the infected bud; shall fade ere its time 
 And die ere its petals have felt the sublime 
 Or the glorious fullness of life's happy day. 
 As the stricken in youth fade soonest away. 
 And know not the joy of life's happy song 
 Nor the beauty pass'd by, its gift lost among 
 The vastness of evil, destroying the dream 
 Of life's glorious meaning, and its beautiful 
 theme. 
 
 There is a pow'r that leads m.e on, 
 A hope my heart doth feed upon. 
 
24 Reflections 
 
 Some pearls of tho't from life's great sea 
 
 Where'er is fathomed, mystery; 
 
 A tho't inherent with desire 
 
 To keep on struggling ever higher 
 
 The soul to reach the greater height 
 
 To dwell within the Infinite. 
 
 As plants do struggle t'ward the light 
 So upward grows the inner sight 
 And ev'ry deed and ev'ry plan, 
 That shapes the mortal way of man 
 Has its beginning with the sod 
 To blossom with his spirit, God. 
 Who grows his choicest blossoms here 
 To beautify his glad sphere. 
 
 Some, try to sift these truths apart 
 God's inspiration of the heart, 
 Deny that conscience is the voice 
 By which we suffer, or rejoice. 
 Reject the truth, despite the call. 
 That vain conceit envelops all, 
 Rebellious, heedless go their way 
 To humbly meet, The Judgment Day. 
 
 The sterner judge the truths impart 
 And knows the purpose of each heart. 
 Defines the meaning of the true,.. 
 Who willing duty e'er pursue, 
 Again, he knows the obstinate 
 Who soon shall learn their final Fate 
 That meekness only, shall employ 
 Their right to know. Eternal joy. 
 
 And reformation make anew 
 All those, who would the right pursue. 
 Redeeming grace for those oppressed 
 Who have with willing, all confessed. 
 To re-elect the power and state.. 
 By which he may regenerate. 
 Consign to him, which is his own 
 The Ensign for his Royal Throne. 
 
 Fill your heart with renewed effort and live 
 for and in the future, the past is gone, with a 
 regret or hope which none may change. It is 
 what we are in the present which counts, and it 
 is foolish to review and brood over the past, as 
 it is to continually read over a story you al- 
 ready know by heart. 
 
Reflections 2S 
 
 ITotte ^Reminiscent 
 
 You remember the flowers we gathered that day 
 When we strolled by the bank of the stream? 
 And the whispering waters seemed ever to say 
 Perfection of love's golden dream? 
 
 And onward as ever persistently flowing 
 The same little stream I remember so well, 
 Pervading my heart with the same colors show- 
 ing 
 The field flowers too, which we pluck'd in the 
 dell. 
 
 Persuasive with all, are sweet memories ever 
 Perplexing my heart with a story so true. 
 And I wonder if ever the same lovely vision 
 Haunts your sweet dreams or comes back to 
 
 you? 
 
 And if the same pleasure forever perceptive 
 Steals from your rest those hours of song 
 Or if in your being the phorescence of loving 
 Illumes the loved way, which to me hath seemed 
 long? 
 
 For since ever that day, a sweet understanding 
 So faithful and true was given to me; 
 And life seems to hold a vivid commanding 
 Illuming the path-way, e'er guided by thee. 
 
 And I trust the illusion but fondly enhances 
 The day-dream so dear of the sweet long ago, 
 The delirious longing and subtle sweet fancies 
 The implicit questioning my heart would bestow. 
 
 For long have I burned the incense I worship. 
 Heedless of all, but the one I love true, 
 Impulsively waiting the import of pleasure 
 The days soon combining my treasures with you. 
 
 Lying, may be considered a valuable asset in 
 some instances, but, as truth is always most 
 necessary, the greatest risk to run, is that a liar 
 is not always believed when he does tell the 
 truth. 
 
 n » 
 
 Be not too unjust in your criticism of others, 
 lest you accuse wrongfully the innocent and 
 good. 
 
26 Reflection* 
 
 There's always another day 
 If this one has proven untrue, 
 The morrow may fill your desires. 
 Of what you are wishing to do. 
 
 Tomorrow may be the great day, 
 The fulfillment of all that you crave 
 Yet with it, may come tears of grief 
 Sadness, death and the grave. 
 
 For sometimes there's wishing and longing 
 And prayers most selfishly vain, 
 And that which we thought was a blessing 
 But filled us with heartache and pain. 
 
 Be content if the present be joyful, 
 You know not the wearisome day 
 The future tomorrow may bring you, 
 By fretting the present away. 
 
 Then take the world as you find it 
 Content in the present to be. 
 For the future yoa know not the ending 
 Nor the heritage of uncertainty. 
 
 Live the day, as though 'twere the last one, 
 Forgetting the past as you will. 
 By making the present so cheerful 
 That the Future all joy shall fulfill. 
 
 u n 
 
 (Eantcmplatton 
 
 I sometimes ask, is it worth while? 
 
 To seek for things which ere beguile — 
 
 The heart to struggle ever on 
 
 To wish more laurels might be won? 
 
 I know our life is brief at best 
 
 And that ere long we sink to rest; 
 
 So, to arrange things as I plan 
 
 To do so much in this brief span, 
 
 To fret, rejoice, to weep or smile 
 
 I sometimes think. Is it worth while? 
 
 The years so marked that we must know, 
 The choicest gifts our minds' bestow, 
 And where to end the tasks begun 
 Ere this short life its race has run, 
 And yet, if plants would cease to bloom 
 And cheer us with their sweet perfume. 
 
Reflections 27 
 
 Or other things, most incomplete 
 That which we think divinely sweet — 
 
 Would cease to be, their part in life, 
 
 What dullness wrought, what erring strife, 
 
 The upward growth in life is best. 
 
 For earth is toil; in heaven rest. 
 
 So earth, is morning fresh and fair — 
 
 As heaven is night's eternal care. 
 
 We sink to rest in sweet repose 
 
 In perfect peace, our eyelids close. 
 
 Knowing full well His vigil near. 
 We therefore have no cause to fear — 
 Its mysteries too, shall we divine 
 And fathom all in His good time. 
 Through faith alone shall heaven bless,- 
 The glory earned, in Time's duress. 
 His plan so perfect when we see 
 The endless days of harmony. 
 
 n n 
 
 Sweet Eunice is a Fairie nymph of dimplish 
 
 smiling fun. 
 Her eyes a bit of azure tint, her hair the golden 
 
 sun. 
 Her lips are like the coral strand found in the 
 
 distant seas. 
 Her smiles, are like the flowers rare that tempt 
 
 the busy bees. 
 And O my rival, little fan of airy gauzy lace 
 Where butterflies entwine the weave, that nestles 
 
 'bout her face. 
 The painted orchids with the bloom that make a 
 
 dainty frieze 
 A picture fair of colors rare, they call it Jap- 
 anese; 
 I know not which I envy most, the times you 
 
 touch her lips. 
 Or when you rest upon her breast, and dainty 
 
 finger tips — 
 Embrace you close, caressingly you cool the 
 
 snowy shoulders, 
 While passion flames and flares till low, the> 
 
 burning heart it smolders, 
 I'd ask the breeze to fain be still, that I might 
 
 round her hover, 
 That she would wield with dainty grace the one 
 
 who'd always love her. 
 
28 Reflecticns 
 
 l^ottelg Hearts 
 
 There are many lonely hearts 
 
 Scattered in the world today, 
 Longing for some recognition 
 
 In the least and kindliest way; 
 Longing for some true affection 
 
 That some loving heart might give, 
 To brighten up a weary pathway 
 
 So that one could better live. 
 
 In the desolate by-way places 
 
 Some have found a harbor there. 
 Gifted hearts of by-gone treasures 
 
 Help another's lot to share; 
 You who know society's glamor 
 
 You whose life is one sweet song, 
 Would you stop to send a message 
 
 To cheer a lonely heart along? 
 
 For remember in the shadow 
 
 Where the sunshine cannot go, 
 You could send a rift of pleasure 
 
 Like a silver ripple's flow. 
 Just remember in your gladness 
 
 There's a lonely "Far Away" 
 Where some heart is weeping, pining 
 
 For a thought from you today. 
 
 So if kindness is your mission 
 
 And if heaven is your goal 
 Share your happy, pleasant pastime 
 
 With some poor discouraged soul. 
 Let him know and feel your kindness 
 
 In some sweet suggestive way 
 Keep your record full o'er flowing 
 
 With the good you've done today. 
 
 — By permission of Word and Works 
 Publishing Co. 
 
 n tt 
 
 Egotism is a disease, which like the decay in 
 the heart of the fruit, absorbs all in time. A per- 
 son so afflicted has a defect of character which 
 cannot be considered normal. 
 
 n tx 
 
 It is only the original superior minds who 
 question the soul problem. The weakling de- 
 pendent, imitate and follow like sheep, where 
 others lead. 
 
Reflections 29 
 
 Peep %\\t Jffire-sibc ^utrttitt0 ^n0l|% 
 
 Keep the fire-side burning brightly, 
 With a sure and steady glow 
 Lest the ones we love and cherish 
 From their homes may want to go. 
 
 Keep the fire-side burning brightly, 
 Stronger home-ties then unite, 
 So the loved ones long may linger 
 Near its warm and cheery light. 
 
 For too oft the fire burns dimly 
 Cheerless place the heart and home 
 And the loved ones long to wander 
 Long to leave it and to roam. 
 
 They will wander far to find it 
 Joy and peace and warm fire-side. 
 If their own is cold and dismal 
 They will travel far and wide. 
 
 For the human heart is longing 
 For the joys they cannot find, 
 When the love-tie has been broken 
 In the home they've left behind. 
 
 Keep the fire-side burning brightly, 
 Full of love and happy cheer 
 If you'd keep the dear ones with you 
 If you'd have them always near. 
 
 W\\tn '^\\t J^osca <Arc ^U done 
 
 Like old friends we miss the roses 
 And the beauty of their bloom; 
 The fragrance of their flowers 
 And their rare and rich perfume 
 The bush where fragrant billows 
 Of rich roses freshly sown 
 Now bereft of bud and blossoms, 
 When the roses are all gone. 
 
 There will come another June-time 
 We must wait another year 
 For the flowers to be budding, 
 And the roses to appear. 
 Other flowers in their season 
 Will be blooming all along 
 Tho' the garden seems so vacant 
 When the roses all are gone. 
 
30 Reflections 
 
 f ittle i:i|iit0a 
 
 It is the "little things" that often make us sad 
 The "little things" that pierce through the heart 
 The "little things" that sometimes make us glad 
 Through all which we contend with equal mart. 
 
 The "little things" that gladden all the way 
 That dispel the cruel sin and strife 
 The "little things" we ought, or ought not say 
 That make or mar our happiness through life. 
 
 Then be thoughtful for the "little things" my 
 
 friend, 
 In every word and action, thought or deed, 
 For 'tis the "little things" that help to always 
 
 mend 
 The little rents in things we mostly need. 
 
 If only but a kind word or a smile 
 Or friendly greeting on Life's highway 
 It helps but for a moment to beguile 
 The clouds unto the sunhine of the day. 
 
 — Published in Christian Herald 
 
 n tt 
 
 "^l^e filler 
 
 Softly flows the rippling river, 
 Underneath a summer sky. 
 Bending boughs of sweetest fragrance, 
 As the days go hurrying by. 
 
 And as brightly glows the sunset 
 In yon far off distant west. 
 As the brightly plumaged warbler 
 Poises on his rocky crest . 
 
 O the days of happy summer 
 And the winding river's way. 
 Picturesque scenes in memory's vision 
 In my heart doth ere hold sway. 
 
 As the bee finds sweetest nectar 
 In the calyx of the rose, 
 So the dreamer finds enchantment 
 In Dame Nature's sweet repose. 
 
 — By Permission Simmon's Pub. Co. 
 
 n n 
 
 Everything in life has its draw-back, even the 
 rose has its worm. 
 
Reflections 31 
 
 1| |[otrc to JK^cmfmbcr 
 
 I love to remember the sweet days of child-hood, 
 The spring-time of life and the spring-time of 
 
 year, 
 It does my heart good to breathe in the Incense 
 Of sweet tender memories of days I hold dear. 
 
 And many sweet spring-times I recall with fond 
 
 pleasure. 
 With a bird-note or wind-whisper it comes all 
 
 back to me. 
 And once more I am the same child as ever. 
 That romped with light heart o'er the daisy 
 
 decked lea. 
 
 No thought or a care of the years in the distance, 
 My heart it grew wild with the breath of the 
 
 spring. 
 And happy I wandered o'er woodland and 
 
 meadow 
 Where sweetest of joys to my child-heart did 
 
 bring. 
 
 The sunshine to me, seemed to shine a wee 
 
 brighter. 
 The flowers seemed then more profusely to 
 
 bloom. 
 Perhaps it was then, my heart too was lighter. 
 And in it, more joys of sweet nature found room. 
 
 And I know that whenever the birds started sing- 
 ing 
 
 I took time to listen to every sweet note. 
 
 And all through the day they trilled sweetest of 
 music 
 
 From out of the wood-land so fair and remote. 
 
 I knew just precisely where the wild fruit grew 
 
 thickest 
 And the winter green berries, I remember so 
 
 well, 
 Hid their little round buds 'neath the ferns and 
 
 the mosses 
 Among the green leaves in the wild daisy dell. 
 
 And I knew the wild flowers, where the bees 
 
 found sweet nectar 
 Down in the meadow where the wheat grew so 
 
 tall, 
 
32 Reflections 
 
 And there 'mong the flowers and sweet scented 
 
 clover, 
 They wandered from spring-time till late in the 
 
 fall. 
 
 Yes, I love to remember the joys of those 
 
 spring-times, 
 The first violets peeping and the breath of thelf 
 
 bloom. 
 And I sigh when I think, like the petals of 
 
 flowers. 
 Life's youth-time doth vanish alike all too soon. 
 
 ^ecpsakfs 
 
 Who has not some tender keepsake 
 They have fondly stowed away, 
 So to cherish for remembrance. 
 Tokens of a by-gone day. 
 
 Perhaps 'tis but a bit of ribbon 
 A rose-bud, or a faded rose; 
 Or a package of old letters, 
 Treasured as the custom goes. 
 
 In your little treasure casket. 
 You will hide a golden curl 
 Stolen from the baby's tresses 
 Of your long lost little girl. 
 
 There's a shoe and little stocking 
 Fancy striped, that Grandma knit, 
 That for all the world you'd never 
 Wish to lose, or part with it. 
 
 There's a string of beads, some laces. 
 Heirlooms of the olden time 
 Grandma wore in quaintest fashion, 
 When she with Grandpa went to dine. 
 
 And so many are the keepsakes 
 We have treasured through the years. 
 Some have brought us happy pleasure 
 Others too, have wrought the tears, 
 
 So I wonder if 'twere better 
 
 As I look mine o'er again. 
 
 To keep the best that bears the pleasure. 
 
 And cherish not, which brings the pain. 
 
Reflections 33 
 
 When the trees are tinged with green 
 And fair the summer night, 
 Hush to sleep the lily bells 
 And lilacs blossom with delight, 
 And roses 'mid the tender leaves 
 So sweetly bud and grow; 
 While warm and soft the summer breeze 
 O'er earth's fair bower doth blow. 
 It is Spring! 
 
 When the trees are tinged with gold 
 And the hickory scented leaves. 
 Waft their fragrance as of old 
 To the dusky dying breeze. 
 When the trees are tinged with gold 
 Golden sunset cloudless sky 
 And the amber shades behold 
 Summer days are passing by. 
 It is Autumn! 
 
 n n 
 
 ^pprcnati0n 
 
 Many mornings have I seen the sunset glowing 
 Its gleam to steal across the Eastern sky; 
 I have heard the song birds in the meadow sing- 
 ing 
 Their sweet low plaintive evening lullaby, 
 I have felt the soft resplendent morning zephyr, 
 Inhaled the mist that fed the scented dew 
 All filled my soul with joyous effervescence 
 With appreciations love, my heart imbue. 
 
 Beholding God's true world of teeming pleasure. 
 The truths as Nature pictures them to me 
 Full toned the orchestra in rythmic measure, 
 And trilled to music true, the bird-song's melody 
 Oh, the language of the spaces and the silence 
 Revealing charms of treasures deep alloy, 
 A breath of balmy breeze and budding flowers 
 Infinitesimal of early morning joy. 
 
 U « 
 
 A counteiieit coin passes through many hands, 
 and, as by continuous wear the warp of the 
 v/eave is shown, so its unworthiness is discover- 
 ed at last. The same is true with deception. 
 
34 Reflections 
 
 '^[ft #tra5 fetal 
 
 A stray petal blown on the dying breeze 
 
 Out in the garden fair 
 Found refuge at last out under the trees 
 
 In a maiden's golden hair. 
 The petal she pressed to her lips so red 
 
 Sweet as a lover's kiss, 
 And made a wish that soon she would wed, 
 And her life be filled with bliss. 
 
 A year has gone, and the roses bloom 
 
 Out in the garden fair. 
 Again it is a day in June, 
 
 With roses everywhere. 
 The maiden's bridal was her grave 
 
 Naught did her wish come true. 
 Now over her mound the roses wave 
 And scatter their petals too. 
 
 n n 
 
 #tticetl|earta 
 
 Two rosebuds grew by the wayside fair. 
 
 Two rosebuds ope'd to the sun, 
 
 Simple wild-roses they grew and they loved 
 
 Their petals caressing until they seemed one; 
 
 But the frost touched the leaves of the little 
 
 wild-rose. 
 It withered and fell to the ground, 
 And a sad little flower was the little wild-rose 
 That alone by the wayside I found. 
 
 » n 
 
 "^{^i #0110 of Autumn 
 
 Come to the wild-wood when the summer is 
 
 waning 
 Come where the brook ripples on o'er the way, 
 Over the hills the sunset is fading 
 And Autumn in glory and splendor holds sway 
 Come while the dew on the grass in the morning 
 Glistens on Asters and Sweet Golden Rod, 
 O, come where Autumn is tinting the hillsides 
 The Fall-rose and thistle bloom beckon and nod. 
 Ah, soon will their glories be fading and dying 
 And summer in sadness has breathed a farewell, 
 O; come where the leaves so gently are falling 
 And each on their mission have a secret to tell. 
 
Reflections 3S 
 
 If we are loved by one 
 Why life is worth the living. 
 If one true friend we've won 
 Then joy our heart is giving. 
 
 If we are loved by one, 
 Our life is not in vain, 
 Our hearts in truth begun 
 Shall ever thus remain. 
 
 Never a useless life 
 If we are loved by one. 
 Despair may ne'er be rife 
 With duty overcome. 
 
 Never dark the night 
 While shines a single star, 
 A glow of pearly light 
 Gleams to us afar. 
 
 We need to ne'er despair 
 A hopeless life to shun 
 For earth seems always fair. 
 If we are loved by one. 
 
 n » 
 
 c^utumn'a ^ta^^t 
 
 Autumn shuddering on the threshold 
 
 Of winter's calm and deep. 
 With silent summer melodies 
 
 The flowers hushed in sleep. 
 The autumn tints vast lovliness 
 
 Wears gay her brilliant crown 
 Unmindful of the soft snow flakes 
 
 That soon come twirling down. 
 In regal glory there displayed 
 
 The red and amber trees. 
 While sighing winter whisperings 
 
 Are borne upon the breeze. 
 Soft as the hush at twilight, 
 
 Comes lingering calm and still. 
 And shadows dark and lengthening 
 
 Dims the brow of yonder hill. 
 
 U U 
 
 Read something new, live something new, and 
 be progressive and happy. 
 
36 Reflecti 
 
 Rummer dloubs 
 
 What has become of that fleecy cloudlet 
 Sailing away in the blue? 
 Like drifting waves on the foaming billows 
 Matching the heavens true. 
 
 Azure tints of the sea-clouds rolling, 
 Sailing with ease o'er the boundless way 
 Mingling the sapphire into the silver 
 Mixing the wild sea-spray. 
 
 What has become of the fleecy cloudlet 
 Waves of the sea-foam white? 
 Melting banks in the distant heavens 
 Fading away out of sight. 
 
 What has become of the heart's hope and glad- 
 ness. 
 Drifting thoughts in the heart so true? 
 What has become of our love's sweet longing 
 Dearest of dreams, since I met you? 
 
 Light are the dreams of fancy's wandering, 
 Quiet and peaceful the Infinite rest 
 Fading away on the ocean billows 
 Cloud-banks, bearing love's wandering quest. 
 
 Drifting dreams like the skies soft billows, 
 Pearly seas of the far away. 
 Fleeting visions, the breezes bearing 
 Gently my prayers for you to-day. 
 i% ♦♦ 
 
 <An (Auhnitn generic 
 
 Deep toned the tints in amber hue, 
 
 Blended in gold and brown 
 
 A symphony of colors rare. 
 
 The herbage richly crown'd 
 
 A golden glory in the haze 
 
 September's drawing nigh, 
 
 A tint of brown on every leaf 
 
 On every breeze a sigh. 
 
 The summer bids a brief farewell. 
 
 The bird calls to its mate 
 
 And hies away to southern climes 
 
 The season's growing late. 
 
 n XX 
 
 A clear conscience is the still water of peace, 
 in the turbulent sea of unrest. 
 
Reflections 3 7 
 
 %\^t ^mblem of ^AltcsttH 
 
 An anxious little Buttercup to the Daisy said, 
 "Tell me please a story, before I go to bed. 
 The 'Legend of the Daisy' I would gladly hear 
 And I will keep quiet you need to have no fear. 
 
 Now tell me little Daisy bright, "How was your 
 
 life begun?" 
 The Daisy nodded assent, the simple story spun, 
 The Buttercup's eyes grew wider as she the 
 
 story heard, 
 And anxiously she listened to every pretty word. 
 
 "Were you then the favorite in the fields and 
 flowers? 
 
 Where once the poet wandered 'mid sunny sum- 
 mer bowers? 
 
 And kneeling by the Daisy thus was wrought a 
 dream 
 
 As the poet wandered in his gilded theme." 
 
 The "Emblem of Alcestis" flower of all the 
 
 flowers 
 Thus he called the Daisy in those sunny bowers 
 The "Emblem of Alcestis" we have called her 
 
 since 
 She was sweetly christened by the "Poet Prince." 
 
 JHortitue J^e Pear 
 
 Forgive me dear, if in my dreams 
 I hear your voice again 
 And hearken to your whisper low 
 And hear you call my name. 
 
 If in my dreams, I see your face 
 With love for me aglow, 
 Soft glances there with pleasure wrought 
 As in the long ago. 
 
 Forgive me, dear, if when I awake 
 And find that dream unreal 
 No sunshine for the day is mine 
 No warmth my heart doth feel. 
 
 n n 
 
 We stumble many times before we learn to 
 walk, and, that same perseverance inborn with 
 us. should not become dormant the moment we 
 have had an awakening, but with the better 
 knowledge, should lift us even to greater heights. 
 
38 Reflections 
 
 O, the dry withered leaves of a Jacqueminot 
 
 rose, 
 Their faded beauty doth a romance enclose, 
 Of a love long ago in their blushing prime 
 I have almost forgotten, 'tis such a long time. 
 
 When I threw this same rose far away on the 
 
 breeze, 
 That night when he gave it, and these are the 
 
 leaves; 
 And this I am sure now but faintly discloses. 
 That at least, I have had some regard for his 
 
 roses. 
 
 For I gathered them up when he went away 
 And cried my heart out all the next day. 
 He never came back and he married my friend. 
 Of my little love story now this is the end. 
 
 I know I was sorry the moment I did it; 
 
 But my pride, thro the years, I have stubbornly 
 
 hid it. 
 I was to blame! but there's nobody knows; 
 No one but myself, and the Jacqueminot Rose. 
 » tt 
 
 Bend low little blossom 
 Bend low to the sun, 
 Drink deep of the dew 
 When the morning has come. 
 
 For all thy need 
 Nature ever conceives, 
 Drink, drink thirsty flower 
 From the dew dripping leaves. 
 
 n n 
 
 In vain we lavish kindness 
 The gifts of love are sown. 
 On those whose selfish blindness 
 No thankfulness is shown. 
 
 n n 
 
 There is always a 'log on the track ^ for timid 
 people who never get anywhere. 
 
Reflections 39 
 
 Wljcn tljc Wilb -IRoac (So^a tc #leep 
 
 Do you know that the wild-rose goes to sleep 
 And folds its pink petals in at night? 
 Along by the bank where the moonbeams creep 
 To ope with the morning light. 
 
 The petals quite close to the heart of the rose 
 There nestle so loving and true, 
 Like a fair sweet babe on its mother's breast 
 Kissed by the morning dew. 
 
 little wild-rose by the brook in the sun 
 
 1 am glad when the sun wakes you up, 
 
 And the petals unfold to the heart of the rose 
 To the depth of its pink tinted cup. 
 
 There is joy by the brook when the sun shines 
 
 fair 
 And the butterflies circle all 'round. 
 And follow the fragrance of the wild-rose flower 
 Where the sweet little rose buds are found. 
 
 There to dive right in for a dainty dish 
 So deep in the honey-tipped petals so rare 
 To sip the sweets for their eager need 
 In the morning sunshine fair. 
 iX XX 
 
 If we knew how short our life here, 
 How uncertain every hour. 
 We would cherish every moment 
 Now while yet within our power. 
 If we knew the day was fleeting 
 And the night would be our last, 
 We would shape a better future 
 From the pages of the past. 
 XX XX 
 
 O, shall the flowers bloom again 
 And shall the birds sing as before? 
 The sunshine warm come stealing in 
 To bless my heart forever-more; 
 O, will the weary winter pass 
 And disappear the ice and snow? 
 Shall we forget the chilling blast 
 When spring-time zephyrs gently blow? 
 « XX 
 
 True friends are as rare as the mountain 
 edleweiss, and about as difficult to procure. 
 
40 Reflectiona 
 
 Peatlr 
 
 It comes to one and all! 
 
 We do not know how soon 
 
 Some loved one may be carried 
 
 To the cold and silent tomb. 
 
 It is the pause that stops the pace. 
 
 That runs too fast its way, 
 
 The command of Him, our Father, 
 
 Whose mandates we obey. 
 
 To put to shame the obstinate 
 The cold relentless will 
 To change the course of curses 
 And with sweet humility fill 
 The hearts so hardened, reckless, 
 Who never stop to think — 
 That every hour that's passing 
 Brings them nearer to the brink. 
 
 Death is certain! let us hearken! 
 While the funeral train goes by, 
 Hearts are softened, once so careless 
 When this one sad hour is nigh. 
 Then remember and be wary! 
 For we do not know how soon, 
 Some loved one, may be carried — 
 To the cold and silent tomb. 
 
 There is a resignation after death, 
 
 That soothes the mourning heart 
 
 A reassurance from this life of weal and woe, 
 
 For naught can heal, but time adjust — 
 
 With measured beat and slow. 
 
 Our friends, we meet with faithful trust and 
 
 note — 
 Their prayers, and thoughtful gifts of love, 
 And yet, they are but hopeless whisperings on 
 
 the breeze, 
 Because, our help must come from heaven above. 
 
 Our grief, alas! It is our own! 
 Tears of relief are shed upon the bier 
 And we, the poor sad wanderer left alone, 
 Upon the drear, dark hemisphere. 
 
 But time and trust, will make the sun to shine 
 
 once more, 
 O troubled heart! faint not upon the way. 
 Sweet peace will come! and joy will once again 
 
 be thine — 
 
 Another day! 
 
Reflections 41 
 
 ^Inspiration 
 
 The tho't soars from my fettered soul, and 
 
 spreads its pinions wide, 
 It sees the world in fleeting print, a painting 
 
 there beside 
 A landscape too, with meadows fair and trees so 
 
 tall and grand 
 So near it seems, that I can reach and touch it 
 
 with my hand, 
 A brook, some cattle browsing near, and sheep 
 
 on gray hill-side 
 Are wandering where the fresh green tufts and 
 
 meadow flowers abide, 
 And some beneath the shadowed oak lie down in 
 
 sweet content 
 To sniff the fragrant summer air, 'neath Heav- 
 en's firmament. 
 
 The horizon's blue and crimson hue, in blended 
 
 purple haze 
 Reveals a castle, gray and old, beyond the distant 
 
 maze, 
 A gilded frame of sunlight gold, completes the 
 
 graveur true 
 Where outlined there, the meadow fair, beneath 
 
 the azure blue. 
 And Nature's color, e'er complete, beside the 
 
 painter's brush 
 Who'd vain bestow a pleasing view to twilight's 
 
 afterhush. 
 And with its beauty all serene, could painters 
 
 ere compare? 
 The pasteled light as blended, by God's work 
 
 everywhere. 
 
 A silver winding brooklet wanders somewhere 
 
 down the glen 
 And through the fertile valleys soon ripples back 
 
 again. 
 The branching trees and soft sunshine alone are 
 
 keeping tryst 
 'Till night-shades gather in the glade and falls 
 
 the dewy mist. 
 The stars come out, the moon shines high, re- 
 splendent is the light. 
 With tender glow the twinkling stars illume the 
 
 summer night. 
 And midst the lily-flowered dell, a kinship of 
 
 the whole 
 Comes into fuller life, the sky, and sanctifies the 
 
 soul! 
 
42 Reflections 
 
 The busy bees go humming by, on fleet melodious 
 wing 
 
 From busy haunt in wild rose bower, their plund- 
 er homeward bring, 
 
 The witchery of the silent hour enshrined in 
 golden light — 
 
 Reflects in soft harmonious tints, the vision of 
 the night, 
 
 The wooded glen awakes the heart to dreams of 
 yesterday 
 
 And thrills the soul to sweet desire, for fond 
 love's melody. 
 
 Amid the haunts of mystic land true harmony en- 
 thralls 
 
 The heart too seeks the Infinite when Inspiration 
 calls. 
 
 And there to wind in silvery weave the robe of 
 
 fancies' dream, 
 Where blue birds chant their round-de-lay, beside 
 
 the purling stream. 
 The golden glow of summer days soft in the twi- 
 light blends — 
 In opal tint, the sun and moon their halo far 
 
 descends. 
 As to sweet Nature's melody the poet's ear 
 
 awakes — 
 In spirit drawn, communes he there, for his own 
 
 pleasure's sake 
 Alike sweet ministrants that list to every leafy 
 
 knoll 
 He longs to solve the mysteries, that soothe the 
 
 anxious soul. 
 
 And out beneath the open sky dwells endless 
 
 harmony 
 The creed for all alike to know, the love of bird 
 
 and bee, 
 And there the glory all express'd of his sublime 
 
 creating — 
 Is found amidst the woodland tryst, the story of 
 
 their mating, 
 The fragile flowers list to hear, the story sweet 
 
 and true — 
 Of minstrel's song, and quiet praise, 'neath scents 
 
 of dusk and dew, 
 The silver dewdrops moist the earth where vio- 
 lets bloom and nod, 
 And make the earth a garden, like the Paradise 
 
 of God! 
 
 n tx 
 
 Follies written on the pages of the past, are not 
 pleasant memoirs for the present. 
 
Reflections 43 
 
 Where tlie hemlock boughs bend low in the 
 
 silence, 
 And the song-birds lilt in the sunset way. 
 Where a gleam of the gold thro branches are 
 
 spreading 
 Tell of the summer days passing away; 
 Dark green boughs where the sunset is fading, 
 Purple the beams in the azure glow; 
 Twilight descending, and cool shadows showing 
 Down under the trees, with the boughs bending 
 
 low. 
 
 The night stars come out with a silvery gleam- 
 ing. 
 Hushed, are the flowers asleep with the stars. 
 Softly the hours so swiftly are passing 
 With Night-time and Moon-time, vanish all cares. 
 Day-dreams and fancies, awake with the morning 
 Sunlight and shadows dance o'er the hills 
 Down in the valley to steal 'mong the flowers. 
 And glide with the movement of soft rippling 
 rills. 
 
 Follow the fancies like butterflies flitting 
 To gather the sweets from the honeyed crest. 
 Away 'mong the shadows where hidden the flow- 
 ers 
 Go seek where the treasures are sweetest and 
 
 best, 
 O dear little fancies! and dear little flowers! 
 Dear little things, which make life complete, 
 Thousands of details amass a great fortune 
 While fancies are waking and bright flowers 
 sleep. 
 
 » n 
 
 %\\t Human JJ!tJfi^ob« 
 
 Do you know that there's an insect terrible 
 
 That clings to the heart of things? 
 
 That has only two legs to walk with 
 
 And has arms instead of wings? 
 
 You'll find it to be quite numerous 
 
 Though hidden away out of sight. 
 
 And you'll be stung before you know it, 
 
 Unless you focus your X-ray right. 
 
 All scientists have discovered 
 
 That when magnified good and bright. 
 
 In their test of this insect closely, 
 
 'Tis the mean little "Penny Mite"! 
 
44 Reflectiona 
 
 'Hlft m^ of tl|e Wavlh 
 
 Troubles will come in spite of the fact 
 
 That things all seem lovely and fair, 
 
 And oft with a crush, there comes a mad rush 
 
 With a hundred small trials to bear, 
 
 'Tis the thing most unlook'd for, that travebour 
 
 way, 
 An unwelcome tourist, 'tis true, 
 And ere wise entertainment a brief half an hour. 
 There's something gone wrong, we feel blue. 
 
 We can't please the people, there's no use to try, 
 
 So varied the nature of those — 
 
 Who love themselves only, and seek but to 
 
 court — 
 The things which most pleases the pose. 
 We must bear a cross, in some way or other, 
 As things which oft come unawares 
 And we find enough worry, to make life a flurry 
 And a balance of troublesome cares. 
 
 If we try to do right and goeasy a mite. 
 
 People quite readily see. 
 
 And soon take possession of everything good 
 
 The "Boss" of your welfare to be. 
 
 'Tis a funny old world so peculiarly peopled. 
 
 The folks, not the world I should say; 
 
 Its a conundrum to know, a friend from a foe 
 
 And where the debts of kindness to pay. 
 
 There's no use to think, when you said down 
 
 life's stream. 
 There's no rippel a tall in the wave. 
 Though the way seems serene and joy dazzles 
 
 the dream. 
 There's drift-wood ahead,-so be brave. 
 You can't shift it either, though shrewd you 
 
 would be 
 Your life is mapped out for you, 
 A beautiful chart, from the dawn of your birth, 
 God's compass, which tallies all true! 
 
 n n 
 
 If there is no power we call the soul 
 And death goes only to the grave. 
 Why don't we then the earth control 
 And make a wise man of the knave? 
 If conscience is a secret thing. 
 And has no vital part in life 
 Why all this upward, errant hope 
 And inward struggle, we call life? 
 
Reflections 45 
 
 ■per #aitct«m 
 
 On the summit of the mountain, of the pictures- 
 que old Cheyenne 
 
 The blue skies' dome above it, reflect the shad- 
 ows in the glen, 
 
 'Mid the lonely solemn stillness where the mag- 
 pie's call is heard 
 
 Not a sound to break the silence, but the glad 
 song of the bird, 
 
 There methinks I hear the stirring of the Muse 
 of long ago. 
 
 Prom the silence comes the whisperings, of the 
 songs she used to know; 
 
 On the cliffs among the mountains, strange, ma- 
 jestic, great, divine. 
 
 Stole those tho'ts of sweetest music, where was 
 penne'd each native rhyme. 
 
 Back years ago, but not forgotten, sweetly steals 
 
 those tho'ts so true. 
 Echoes back in rythmic splendor, sweetest 
 
 memories ever new, 
 There alone, enraptured stillness on those 
 
 wondrous mountain heights 
 Hied she often to her musing, to drink in their 
 
 rare delights. 
 Eight thousand feet above sea level, where the 
 
 mountain streams below 
 Echo onward, thro the valleys, with their soft 
 
 low dulcet flow. 
 O'er the distant rolling prairies, pensive oft her 
 
 longing gaze 
 Lost in fancies' admiration, 'midst the blue and 
 
 distant haze. 
 
 Gorgeous rose the Sister Mountains, hedged her 
 aerie round and round. 
 
 Where the golden sunshine falling, touched a 
 lonely sacred mound, 
 
 Hidden by the pine-trees sobbing, list the 
 screaming eagle's cry, 
 
 As it seeks its rocky aerie, chiseled there against 
 the sky. 
 
 In her rambles o'er the mountains, in her wand- 
 erings by the glen 
 
 We have paused and heard the music, of her 
 soul inspired pen. 
 
 Near the clouds, an inspiration came divine, so 
 pure and true 
 
 In fair sunny Colorado, where the skies are al- 
 ways blue, 
 
46 Reflections 
 
 Thoughts, a melody of music, Renowned Author 
 
 of the past, 
 As she loved the streams and mountains, May 
 
 her memory ever last! 
 
 Written after a visit to Helen Hunt Jackson's 
 grave in the Cheyenne Mountains, Colorado, 
 July Fourth, 1909. 
 
 n n 
 
 Ah, could it be the same is it was then. 
 And could we be the same dear friends again. 
 Could we go back the same old quiet path 
 And whisper love's sweet longing, in the after- 
 math. 
 
 Oh, could the tears be blotted out of life's fair 
 
 page 
 And once more, now as then, all joy presage 
 The same confidence beside the trusting 
 
 heart 
 Bid doubt to flee, and grief depart. 
 
 Could fairest hope crown love's Yule-tide 
 And sweetest joy reign there beside; 
 And could the trust of long ago; 
 Light up the flame with its tender glow. 
 
 Could all this seem as the truth would seem 
 The grand awakening of the dream. 
 And transformation again make new 
 The friendship once, 'tween me and you, 
 I would be happy here! 
 
 The first to bloom is the first to fade 
 When the frosts of winter cover the glade. 
 And that which seems brightest in its prime 
 Perishes often, before its time. 
 
 So envy not the prim rose-tree. 
 
 That scatters its petals o'er the lea. 
 
 Its falling leaves fade all too soon 
 
 In the one brief month, that we call "June"! 
 
 » XX 
 The immeasurable sweetness of a happy hour 
 
 with a friend is like a bright symphony from the 
 
 pages of a pretty book. 
 
Reflections 47 
 
 fife's (Contrast 
 
 Oh, the morning can never be so fair 
 But what the clouds may overtake the day. 
 And brighest hopes to meet with sad despair 
 When myriad shadows change its melody. 
 
 So, doth Time modify our every ill 
 And reckons joy to intercede our woe. 
 Intensifies, our purpose to its will 
 And dominates the spirit, where we go. 
 
 As Faith's mirage illuminates the way 
 
 Incites the mind to struggle ever on, 
 
 So Hope alone, defines its feeble ray 
 
 And guides the tho't we put our trust upon. 
 
 The ebb of time shall hasten our bequest. 
 We live to learn, in patience true and sweet 
 Accept the gifts, by which we are most blest, 
 And never yield to cunning or defeat. 
 
 'Tis not in the value of gifts we make 
 That proves our purpose true, 
 Nor is it the worth of gold or plate, 
 But the spirit 'tis given you. 
 
 We measure the gift by the giver's heart 
 A mite from its generous store. 
 Is worth millions of gifts of treasure rare 
 Who never consider you more. 
 
 The best we give of the best we have. 
 Whether 'tis great or small, 
 Is counted most, by our willing host 
 Than those who give nothing at all. 
 
 If I cannot solve to-day 
 All the problems planned for me. 
 Perhaps the glad tomorrow 
 Shall make my mind more free. 
 
 Thus I wait in patient hoping. 
 Summoning all the help I can 
 From the pow'r eternal, faithful, 
 Which is ere at my command. 
 
 And I know^ that when the morrow 
 Brings the sun, the dew and rain, 
 I shall soon in time decipher 
 What is for my truest gain. 
 
48 RefUctiona 
 
 And the joy of that fulfillment 
 Shall bring its blessed peace, 
 After sorrow and the heart-ache, 
 Will come my sweet surcease. 
 
 ^ Mmitx #itnrtse 
 
 Behold the winter sunrise! Pasteled the wintry 
 
 sky, 
 A gleam of gold to lend it warmth, a shadow 
 
 drifting by. 
 Soft toned the pink of leaden hue, a dim 
 
 light atmosphere. 
 When the frost and snow across the fields, in 
 
 ice fringed cloak appear. 
 Brighter the sun still higher grows, its gleam 
 
 aslant the winter snows, 
 And clearly thro the branches bare, a million 
 
 diamonds everywhere — 
 Of glistening ice, and freezing snow, while win- 
 ter sun with warmth aglow 
 Folds o'er a veil of fleecy cloud, pink- tint with 
 
 gray and leaden shroud, 
 Glorious its beams across the snow, into each 
 
 heart its light doth flow. 
 And steals a gleam across the skies. Reflections 
 
 of the gold sunrise. 
 
 If 
 
 If wishes were fairies, and thoughts were things, 
 What wonderful treasures the mind oft brings, 
 Our turbulent longings would be a sea — 
 Of raging, fitful expectancy. 
 
 How much fulfilled of the hopes we know 
 Thought- triumph, for either weal or woe. 
 The mind a geyser of bursting flood 
 Surmounting the heights, if understood. 
 
 And bringing the treasures from every store 
 Content with little, yet searching for more 
 The errant thought of the active mind 
 Like the meadow brook, to wind and wind. 
 
 The ceasless flow of the wild, wild wave, 
 To end in the terminus of the grave. 
 But the spirit it leaves, on the limitless shore. 
 Shall be our talisman evermore. 
 
Reflections 49 
 
 The wild-rose has a legend 
 By the roaming Gypsy queen, 
 She, a poet sentimental 
 In sweet Nature's land serene. 
 
 And each flower is a symbol 
 That she greets with eager eye, 
 Knows she well, their meaning truly, 
 As she passes each one by; 
 
 But the wild-rose is her favorite 
 That fills her heart with mirth, 
 ■'TIS the sweetness of heaven. 
 With the gladsomeness of earth." 
 
 n n 
 
 Where poppies steal a glimpse of blushes red, 
 Beneath the waving sweep of yellow corn, 
 Where bees around the honeyed clover bed 
 And birds sing sweet from out the jeweled 
 morn. 
 
 There life is sweet! 
 
 » a 
 
 Keep hoping, for some day the tide will turn 
 And much shall be yours, for which you yearn. 
 Much you have sigh'd for, shall yet be your gain 
 If you will be patient, your waiting's not vain. 
 
 n n 
 
 A dark little cloud in a rift of blue, 
 Where soon the sunshine will peep thro 
 The sun will scatter the cloudlet away 
 And we shall have then, a sunshiny day. 
 tt tt 
 
 If perfection we seek in man-kind 
 Many errors we surely will find. 
 And the search will be a most difficult one, 
 Since no man is perfect under the sun. 
 
 n n 
 
 I would rather have a cottage 
 And have it all my own; 
 Than live in wealth and grandeur 
 Within another's home. 
 
 tt tt 
 
 "Blind to our own faults" how often it is true, 
 We are apt to censure others, for the things we 
 often do. 
 
so Reflections 
 
 More than half our lives are squandered in vain 
 longing and regret, 
 
 In brooding over trials that we have never met. 
 
 If we knew that hopeless dreaming is but bub- 
 bles in the air, 
 
 We would cease our endless pining, and our days 
 of blank despair — 
 
 Would be changed to eager effort, in the wish 
 some good to do, 
 
 And the stimulus of hoping, would spell "Action" 
 real and true. 
 
 » n 
 
 We never know how soon the blow may fall, 
 Nor unexpectedly the danger sweep our way 
 We never know how soon the fatal hour. 
 May come to cloud the sunshine of the day. 
 U XX 
 
 We will never grow old, as we count the years 
 If we will court laughter instead of tears, 
 Yes, less of worry and fewer of frowns. 
 If the flowers of youth we would wear in our 
 
 crowns. 
 And rejoice in the thought, as the days go by 
 "We are children of God, for His home on high." 
 n XX 
 
 When we are governed by our moods our 
 soul's a weakling, because 'tis easier to yield 
 than fortify the mind's need against all ill, yet, 
 without the moods, nature's a commonplace and 
 easy to satisfy, and while satisfaction may 
 bring contentment, it does not always bring suc- 
 cess. The restless mood stirs life to action, and 
 action is the expression of the soul's desires. 
 XX XX 
 
 Be not too sure of a silent person's hospitality, 
 nor take undue advantage thereof, for though he 
 speaketh not, he secretly hateth you for your im- 
 position. 
 
 XX XX 
 
 While some brains are possessed with great 
 inventive capacity, they are very much like a 
 clock. When wound up too tight with vanity and 
 conceit, the springs, not being strong enough to 
 endure the pressure of prosperity, are apt to 
 break, or like cake baking, the recipe may be 
 alright, but too much seasoning spoils the 
 dough. 
 
Reflections SI 
 
 Wilful ignorance is to be despised, for he who 
 will not take heed of the wise, e'en though for 
 his own good, is worse than ignorant, his stupid- 
 ity becomes a scourge to his own back. 
 
 n « 
 
 The green eyed monster "Jealousy" can up- 
 root every spark of peace that rests in the hu- 
 man soul, and is often a slip noose to the gal- 
 lows. 
 
 n » 
 
 Some people accept their lot, as thought it 
 were meant by fate, that they should have no 
 other heritage, but hard work. 
 
 « n 
 
 Some characters are as opposite as salt and 
 sugar. Though similar in appearance, their 
 tastes are quite different, and they never mix 
 unless in a pickle. 
 
 u n 
 
 Some people are like a big orange, that looks 
 like a whole lot, but when pealed, there's but a 
 skimp inside with lots of rine. So are we often 
 deceived with the bulk of some people, who look 
 pretentious, but weigh little. 
 
 » n 
 
 Some people are capable of absorbing so much, 
 as to frequently need new pastures, wherein to 
 brouse. 
 
 « « 
 
 Our lives are like monuments, they must be 
 hewn out of the rough places, and polished, to 
 make them stand up smoothly against a clear 
 sky. 
 
 n n 
 
 So live, the rest of your life; that when you 
 come to die, your friends will not have to be sor- 
 ry they are glad, that you are dead. 
 
 :t n 
 
 There is a class of people I would shun, as I 
 would the venom of a snake, the kind who slur 
 you, who are constantly preaching, and never 
 bringing anything to the point. I would rather 
 cross swords with them, than listen to their 
 voice. 
 
52 Reflections 
 
 The character of an evil person is made up of 
 a distinctive boldness, which the innocent can in 
 no wise assume, and the wicked usually use their 
 own faults as a criterion for others. 
 
 n » 
 
 Don't give up until hope and you have parted, 
 and even then, give yourself a few days of 
 grace. 
 
 «: » 
 
 Impart information rarely, for you are never 
 quite sure of its welcome, and ten to one, he 
 whom you would advise, knows more than you 
 who gives it. 
 
 » n 
 
 The more I learn, the less I think I know, and 
 the less I think I know, the more intelligent I be- 
 come. 
 
 « « 
 
 Truth, needs no vindication. An aureole of 
 glory surrounds an honest person, which always 
 imparts a feeling of safety to the stranger, who 
 is sometimes thrown upon his mercy. 
 
 n tx 
 
 As riches are often a curse, so do they oft- 
 times make men masters, but it is only in good 
 deeds, that he shows his authority to govern 
 those, who though they serve him, are in many 
 ways his superior. 
 
 n XX 
 
 He who deliberately does a mean thing on pur- 
 pose, will sooner or later find the cinders in the 
 smoke of distaste he creates around him, blind- 
 ing his own eyes. 
 
 XX « 
 
 False Impression is a wicked judge, and the 
 jury of our thoughts should not be too hasty in 
 passing sentence, lest that which we are the 
 most sure of, is that in which we are the most 
 mistaken. 
 
 XX IX 
 
 Paint and water will not mix, and much like 
 some natures, must have a little of the oil of love 
 for combination, for like the characters in short- 
 hand one is two, and the consonants arranged in 
 pairs according to their affinity of sounds. 
 
Reflections S3 
 
 As naturally as the flowers turn to the sun, 
 so do our hearts turn to one another for warmth 
 of sympathy and love. 
 
 » n 
 
 Some people have such a love for argument, 
 that they argue against their own interest for 
 the sake of controversy. 
 
 n tt 
 
 -AS A MAN THINKETH. SO IS HE" 
 
 Just as our thoughts are; so truly are we. 
 
 It matters not then, what our station may be. 
 
 Hearts that are wanting seeith not the bright 
 
 star 
 Gleaming so radiant, beaming afar. 
 
 The hope that is promised, the gain and the loss 
 The richness of living, the weight of the cross, 
 O just as our thoughts are; so too, is our day 
 We clothe it in darkness, or sunshine array. 
 
 We make it, or mar it with pleasure or pain, 
 
 For as the day fleeting returns not again, 
 
 The thoughts that bring treasures in glory to 
 
 view 
 Returns their reward in full measure to you. 
 
 Our life like a pattern we choose as we will 
 The coloring of beauty and brightness to fill. 
 To weave in the spaces of delicate hue 
 Of thoughts, sweet and lovely, uplifting and true. 
 
 We cannot be happy if bodings of ill, 
 
 Creep over our hearts with a feeling of chill. 
 
 But just as our thoughts are; our voyage will 
 
 be,— 
 On wild raging billows, or smooth mirrored sea. 
 
 The days of the summer, the sunlight and rain 
 We choose, or refuse, their loss or their gain. 
 We may wish for the beautiful, ask for the 
 
 best, — 
 The trend of our thoughts, makes life blighted 
 
 or blest. 
 
 If we dwell in the clouds of our thoughts all the 
 
 day 
 We drive all the sunshine in life soon away, 
 If we think the day drear, it is bound to be so. 
 No matter which way the winds chance to blow. 
 
S4 Reflections 
 
 And just as thoughts are; individually we'll be 
 So are we beloved, or despised hourly; 
 For sunshine magnetic, it brings out the bloom' 
 And sweetens our lives, if we give it the room. 
 
 Kind thoughts, fill the soul with the sunlight of 
 
 love. 
 And divinely are blest from the spirit above, 
 Dark thoughts, are the clouds that weave into 
 
 rain 
 A deluge of tears for the mourner again. 
 
 The same is our life, if we seek but to find 
 The worst we can conjure in a distorted mind. 
 The mind's swift reflection draws a picture so 
 
 true 
 A dark silhouette, 'gainst the skies' tender blue. 
 
 For every sad frown soon furrows the brow 
 And gives us full interest of worries' endow. 
 For just as our thoughts are; so bright will it be 
 A bountiful treasure for life's legacy. 
 
 Epilogue 
 
 When life is done! When life is done! 
 And the spirit and the mortal life are one. 
 When all doubt and fear have vanished, 
 And all pain and grief are banished. 
 By the steadfast Faith eternal we have won. 
 
 When the spirit sinks to rest beyond the shoal, 
 And the restless heart at last shall find the goal, 
 When the holy light of love 
 Shall descend from heaven above, 
 And sweet sleep shall come to ease the wearied 
 soul. 
 
 Oh, the peace and joy to know, when life is done! 
 
 What rest to be, just at the setting of the sun, 
 
 When all sadness is abating. 
 
 And the treasures are awaiting,- 
 
 Our acceptance. When the final race is run. 
 
 When the stars of evening glow with tender 
 
 light, 
 And our barge is slowly sinking out of sight. 
 To the glorious life to be, 
 Where is fathomed mystery. 
 We then shall smile to bid the world, 
 
 "Goodnight!" 
 
Compilationa of 
 FLORA WILLIAMS WOOD 
 
 Rhymes at Random 
 
 Woodbury 
 
 A Vase of Roses 
 
 Reflections 
 Golden Opinions 
 
 Theodosia 
 
 Nature and Life 
 
 Flowers of Pastime 
 
 Hearts and Roses 
 
 A Romance of the Tomb 
 
 The Barge Beyond the Harbor 
 
 The Prodigal Heart 
 
 The Girl in the Grey Chinchilla 
 
 Dorothy Gray, and others 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS