LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Shelf ....Y.3... 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
' She stands alone by the water, 
 
 Her playmates far across. 
 With her apron rich in woodland trove 
 Fresh buds, and freshened moss." 
 
 Pag-e 114. 
 
EDITH. 
 
 A POEM IN FOUR PARTS. 
 
 BY 
 
 LAVINIA P. YEATMAN. 
 •I 
 
 '#''!oFVV-,"c!'h^^%^ 
 
 9 -|§8"2 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
 
y3 
 
 Copyright, 1882, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT & Co, 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 TO THE SOCIETY OF FRIENDS. 
 
 In dedicating to you this simple metrical work, in this our Bi-Cen- 
 tennial year, I do so with feelings of deep anxiety. 
 
 In that refinement of thought which has ever been a distinguishing 
 feature among our earnest friends, a love for the beautiful and true 
 is ever present. 
 
 The beautiful sometimes may lead away from simplicity, and in our 
 deep love for the truth we have feared to offer a free expansion to 
 anything that might unfold into imaginative work. 
 
 Yet in this age, when "the poets of the world" have touched almost 
 every chord of truthful earnestness with a beauty which commands 
 our unity of feeling, we have not failed to render them our sympathy 
 and admiration. 
 
 Of " Edith" I will say its chief qualities are its truth, and its ad- 
 herence to " the vital principles of our Society." The quiet trouble of 
 the child, her prayers, and their conclusion, are no imaginary idea, but 
 were the real, life experience of one whose whole after-life was 
 strengthened by it, and I have felt it to be a duty to throw it into this 
 form, that " an olden lesson of faith" might be again recalled among us. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 3. 
 
EDITH 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 Ever thy far thought fills thy land, O Penn ! 
 
 The " blue skies" tell us thy glad, wondering joy ; 
 Clear spring thy " plentiful waters ;" glade and glen. 
 
 Rich- cultured, breathe " thy peace;" the "south winds" coy 
 O'er broad, brave cities float ; while high and deep 
 
 Thy struggles for the holier truth men see, 
 And steadfast as thy soul's superior sweep 
 
 Hold they thy gifts. Freedom, Equality ; 
 
 Thy grandeur hath outlived all calumny ; 
 
 And o'er thy people broods the prophecy 
 Of thy sad spirit born, — " If Friends will keep 
 
 To God in Justice, Mercy, Truth innate. 
 Their foes will be their footstool ; if these sleep. 
 
 Their heirs, and mine too, will be desolate ;" 
 
 Grave words, which figure man's and type a nation's fate. 
 
 Penn s Letter, 1682. 
 
 I* 5 
 
EDITH. 
 
 It was little Edith Aubrey- 
 Sitting low upon her stool, 
 With books, and dolls, and wealth of lore 
 
 Around her, playing school ; 
 
 Scarce heeding word or low reply. 
 
 As passed the quiet converse nigh, 
 
 Till thus, by childish instinct led. 
 
 She taught the Golden Rule. 
 
 By a window, gravely thoughtful, 
 
 Anna sat, her busy hand 
 Over boyish raiment gliding. 
 
 Renovating break and band, 
 With that shrewd, and apt precision. 
 
 Mothers haply may command. 
 
 And nigh, with easy, lounging aif. 
 In cushioned comfort resting, 
 
 With slippered feet on foot-rest rare, 
 (Rights national investing). 
 
 Sat Morris, earnestly the while 
 The Daily News digesting. 
 
 Hushed lay the pleasant room, and bright. 
 No draperies dim revealing 
 
EDITH. 
 
 The smile of that pale winter day ; 
 But backward thrown, all golden gay 
 The sun, with mild, familiar play, 
 Breaking through cloud-ranks far away, 
 
 Came, mellowing floor and ceiling. 
 With prying glance defining close 
 
 Grave lines, and dainty feeling; 
 
 Where warm, and fresh the carpet threw 
 
 Its neat design, in keeping. 
 In neutral tint, and lifting leaf, 
 
 With the calm hush upcreeping, 
 While flashed the cheerful fire aglow. 
 Where Tabbie, with her breast of snow 
 
 Upturned, lay cosy sleeping. 
 
 Where — neatly framed on soft, gray wall, 
 
 Enwreathed with tendrils slender 
 Of clematis, and forest -leaf 
 
 In autumn-tinted splendor. 
 He shadowed scenes whose old renown 
 Art-taste so loves to trace, and crown 
 With reverence wondering, tender, 
 The beautiful of classic art, — 
 That strange environment of heart 
 
8 EDITH. 
 
 With the dread unknown, — grasping still 
 Through marbled form, through thought's high skill, 
 To symbolize the eternal will 
 Nor man nor Art may render. 
 
 Where — winningly to student eye 
 
 Ranged book-shelves, crowded over 
 With works whose sterling worth revealed 
 The mind-tone to the household sealed, 
 Traced he choice names from fancy's field ; 
 Whilst Penn and Barclay, EUwood, Fox, 
 Quaint bound, yet solid as the rocks 
 The winds of Syria blew upon. 
 With tender care encircled shone. 
 Seemingly yet with mild concern 
 The minds of comrades to discern, 
 Who round in modern tone and dress, 
 Told thought's enlarged expansiveness. 
 Oh, long may Quaker heart revere 
 The honored names, the tenets clear, 
 Which stamped an age to virtue dear. 
 
 So glided on, with peep and flash, 
 
 The sun from form to cover, 
 Till close by Anna's work-stand staid 
 He paused, 'neath trifles overlaid, 
 
EDITH. 
 
 Tracing on delicate leaf displayed 
 
 '*The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner" 
 (The charmed float of its misty power 
 Thrilling each nerve through the reader's hour), 
 As it lay on the open, kindred page, 
 Where grand Isaiah's lines engage 
 The faith which woke the prophet fire. 
 And brooded by the lone, weird sea, 
 Kindling the secret rapt desire 
 Which guides the after-harmony. 
 
 Thought-freighted passed the still hour by. 
 
 Each wrapt in their ideal, — 
 The silent charm conjecture weaves 
 
 Whilst challenging the real 
 Oft throws from iron bars a song 
 Angels might stoop to bear along. 
 
 ANNA. 
 
 "The last page read? Then, Morris, comes 
 
 The light task to review them, 
 My thoughts the while have studying ranged." 
 
 MORRIS. 
 
 ''Retrace thy thoughts; even though estranged 
 
 They be, thou canst imbue them 
 With interest, Anna," 
 
lo EDITH. 
 
 ANNA. 
 
 ^^ Thanks, my friend ; 
 Yet on thy cherished views might trend 
 Their tone^ did I pursue them. 
 
 '^ Couched in such changeful, varying guise, 
 
 Thought comes, so quickly fading, 
 I can but catch its central truths ; 
 
 The added outlines aiding 
 And rounding up each point, I lose 
 
 With each successive shading. 
 And thus thy words of yesternight 
 
 Have been with me, and truly 
 As still I trace Art's noble gift 
 To purer heights the mind to lift, 
 I see the passionate human will 
 So regal, dominant, while still 
 Its heroism holds a thrill 
 
 Which charms one all unduly. 
 Darkly, I see this shadow fall, 
 Where the divine should rule in all 
 The efforts of man's life, — his call — 
 Well, stay thy Miews,' my thought may be 
 An atom on thy mind's broad sea, 
 
 Stemming some wave unruly." 
 
EDITH. II 
 
 She spoke and smiled as, smiling, he, 
 
 With mock obedience bending. 
 Assumed an attitude to hear. 
 Then serious, as a light more clear 
 Came up, and filled the large dark eye. 
 
 She thus her point defending : 
 
 ANNA. 
 
 "I've weighed my thought, and this must be 
 
 The resume I proffer thee, — 
 
 He who uplifts our earth-bound lives 
 
 To the Christ-words truth its beauty. 
 Touching the delicate folds within 
 The holier Life, till self and sin 
 Lie hushed, as the rich communings stirred 
 By the unseen Love in the soul are heard, 
 He who so comprehends, but sees 
 The chord which binds the harmonies 
 In the grand ^.dvance of time, for him 
 The higher homage ne'er shall dim; 
 Whilst wealth of Art, or wealth of thought, 
 If heedless or opposing brought, 
 
 Takes lower rank of duty. 
 
 "Art needs the sweet Truth's spoken strength; 
 Not through her clouded niches 
 
ti 
 
 EDITB. 
 
 Should float this, all-controlling reach 
 Of human passion, guiding speech, — 
 
 World-lore but half enriches, — 
 But that grand hymn God gives the soul 
 
 (Whose love-throb, richly thrilling 
 In intimate relation, all 
 
 Creation's pulse, and filling 
 Our own life with communion touch,) 
 
 Demands its true instilling, — 
 Demands that man shall comprehend. 
 
 In meaning clear and true, that breath 
 So breathed in him when, Eden-born, 
 
 He drank the wine of Life beneath 
 The covering of a joy so rare, — 
 
 The primal blessing, ^ All is good,' 
 
 Filling (an essence understood) 
 The love-lit glory everywhere. 
 
 " Our poet-heart dreams wistfully 
 
 With an uncertain yearning ; 
 While intellect stamps all to-day 
 
 With its bold, eager learning ; 
 And earth-love holds its idol, earth. 
 
 So high, all higher spurning : 
 Yet each may read, must read, with eyes 
 
 More clear, the truth, that He whose will 
 
EDITH. 
 
 Moulds warmth and being, touching all 
 
 With sovereign beauty, yet will fill 
 His creature man with finest sense 
 Of spiritual intelligence, 
 Stamping his intellectual course 
 With higher power than reason's force, 
 And give to him the rapt delight 
 
 Of conscious intercourse, as when 
 The Hebrew prophets bent before 
 
 His mighty guiding presence then." 
 
 Half pausing as her earnest word 
 
 Touched a far thought, whose vivid glance 
 
 Turned back to meet the indistinct 
 Relations, resting in the trance 
 
 Of far-forgotten time, again. 
 
 True to her purposed will, her quiet views advance 
 
 *'Thy favorite poet take. His thought 
 Grandly his laurels all have bought ; 
 He makes the warm pulse spring again 
 With pride, with triumph, with disdain, 
 Yet still through all one rich refrain 
 Binds down to earth, the sensate wealth 
 Of image, tone, precludes that health 
 
 13 
 
14 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 Whose sentient, near, perceptive line 
 Lifts, o'er our earth-loves, the divine; 
 O'er manly quest, the holier right. 
 I cannot see why thought should be 
 E'er moulded by a bygone night ; 
 The principles of love and light 
 Within the soul, so clear and free, 
 Build far a broader plane to-day 
 Where rest the Christ-born purity, 
 And all of earth within us may 
 Bathe in that Life whose ripples still 
 Float, wave-like, upwards towards the pure 
 Perfection of the eternal will." 
 
 MORRIS. 
 
 ''Why, Anna, my favorite well might stand 
 Dismayed, if from thy judging hand 
 Came forth the power to crown with bays 
 The triumph of his loftier lays. 
 But deemest thou that the poet's range 
 
 Of far-seen thought, of fancy's reach. 
 In soberer tints should interchange 
 
 With wisdom that the prophets teach ?" 
 
 ANNA. 
 
 "True grandeur in an artist's thought 
 From simplest truth is clearest caught, 
 
EDITH. 
 
 Moulding the imagined, all design 
 Takes color, tone, from truth inwrought, 
 
 For, born in light, she is divine. 
 Yes, Morris, from the poet's pen 
 Should glance the force of prophet ken, 
 For his high gift of artist dower 
 Takes from divinest life its power ; 
 If true to nature, still he draws 
 His life-tide from God's perfect laws. 
 
 " I take a deep delight in all 
 
 My poet friends, and hail the call 
 
 To art-life as a nobler road. 
 
 Where thought refined, refines the good ; 
 
 And eagerly I yearn to find 
 
 In each that winsome glory 
 Which fills the triune life in us, — 
 
 Our full Life with their story. 
 There are whose high uplift of song 
 Bears one in rapt delight along 
 
 Fresh, new, their wisdom hoary ; 
 There are who trail their plumes in earth, 
 So loosely shaming nobler birth. 
 Aping the Paphian's poor employ, 
 
 His honeyed charms pursuing ; 
 
 15 
 
1 6 EDITH. 
 
 Ah ! minds of pure and delicate mould 
 
 Such false draughts oft are rueing. 
 I scorn the weakness that would hold 
 In this rich age the meagre gold 
 Which old Parnassus might enfold." 
 
 MORRIS. 
 
 '^Ah ! Anna, with Anacreon's odes 
 
 Came in the high encrownal, 
 Where Art-life joined in warmest flush 
 
 The Bacchante's lush endownal ; 
 I doubt if judgment pure as thine 
 Can Cytherean spells untwine, 
 Or guide to-day the myrtle-vine's 
 Soft, witching, wide renownal; 
 Truth, self-denying, hides her worth, 
 While trailing wings drop down to earth. 
 And, dust-encumbered, loose enfold 
 Rude sense of virtue as of old." 
 
 ANNA. 
 
 ''Nay, if 'twere rude, then, Morris, all 
 Its wrongful influence might fall ; 
 But silvered, plausible, refined, 
 False beauty wins and warps the mind. 
 Take now this work, a favorite thine" 
 
EDITH. 17 
 
 (She lifted from a table nigh 
 
 A book of rhymed melody); 
 *' Those reaches of sublimer thought, 
 So quaintly by its heroine taught, 
 Subside in tints Arcadian caught. 
 The self-poised, resolute design 
 Drops humbly bound at Love's sweet shrine. 
 As though a woman's best estate 
 But fits her for a cooing mate, 
 The high, full grandeur life should wear 
 Scarce recognized in resting there. 
 Pulsing the old barbaric throe, — 
 
 The same dark fate that Herod prest 
 
 To matchless Marianne's breast. 
 Type of the world of long ago. 
 Ah ! selfish love makes ne'er atone. 
 We tread the wine-press all alone ; 
 Singly the pathway must be trod, 
 Bearing our records up to God. 
 And when I see young spirits bending 
 Over these thoughts, and Fancy lending 
 Her gilded plumes to crown it truth, 
 I mourn o'er poesy and youth." 
 
 Lightly he laughed, — ''Why, Anna, much 
 Have I enjoyed the author's touch, 
 
1 8 EDITH. 
 
 Bringing the grotesque and the true, 
 
 In exquisite proportions, through 
 
 The wildest whims chivalrous sense 
 
 E'er drew of glory's vain pretence. 
 
 So lightly glides the scenic roll, 
 
 The sequel but sustains the whole. 
 
 Nay, though to earth these plumes be prest, 
 
 I claim my poet grandest, best ; 
 
 Contented with the earth-seen real, 
 
 I leave untouched the far ideal." 
 
 Mirth laughed in Morris Aubrey's eye 
 Whilst waiting for the grave reply, 
 Which slow, and with a shade of pain, 
 Challenged his ready thought a^ain. 
 
 ANNA. 
 
 '^Thou shamest me with thy lightsome strain. 
 
 No published work but carries weight, 
 
 Controlful of another's fate ; 
 
 While reverencing the grandly true 
 
 We honor self, an honor due 
 
 To our high calling and to God. 
 
 Lifting our own sublimer real. 
 
 What is it but to live the ideal ? 
 
 This dim-seen, mythic, dread ideal. 
 
EDITH. 
 
 Which is but Christ-truth, 'tis so odd 
 How man accepts the baser birth. 
 
 "What made a Bayard, Sidney, grand, 
 But this, the holding 'neath command 
 Each earth-drawn yearning ? Lived they not 
 The very word that Jesus taught ? 
 Nathless the gild of romance thought ? 
 This glaze romantic, does it add 
 To manhood's worth? 'Tis but the quiver 
 Of self-love rippling through and through, 
 Like moon-smile on a sleeping river. 
 Where hides the whirlpool dim from view, 
 Keeping its records drear and sad. 
 
 " Yet holier grows twin Life and Art, 
 And as the Christ-light fills the world 
 A delicate beauty, mild, intense, 
 Redeemed from many a dread pretence 
 That clouds the earlier Renaissance, 
 (Dread monkish horrors, dim defined, 
 To agonize the shuddering mind 
 As dark Murillo's gloomy art, 
 Chilling alike to brain and heart), 
 Floats down, and in her haunts lies curled. 
 
 19 
 
EDITH. 
 
 A sweeter Christ-child lives and brings 
 To all, the blessedness of things. 
 
 '^ So read I calm and grave Lucile ; 
 
 And follow Browning's musings, 
 And trace in grand Aurora Leigh 
 
 The future's tone of choosing, 
 While through our nearer poet-tomes 
 The in-life's fulness broader comes." 
 
 MORRIS. 
 
 ^' These meet the present, Anna, these 
 
 Are modelled to the modern tone ; 
 The fire of ancient chivalry 
 Long lingering died at last, and we 
 
 Have coolly, calculating grown. 
 Our Sidneys still are passing rare, 
 The Luvois' crowd us everywhere ; 
 Still twines the thread of human will 
 Its charmed tension, easier still 
 The path our rational powers make clear 
 Than the rapt wisdom of the seer. 
 
 *^Thy calm, cold Leigh hath winning grace, 
 Yet when, through years of waiting, 
 
 Her goal she gains, the sequel then 
 Comes in that goal elating, 
 
EDITH. 21 
 
 Thus giving to nature honor due ; 
 The pulsings of the heart are true, 
 Though far our Princess stoops to sue 
 
 The weakness she was rating. 
 Ah ! thought is power while reason sways 
 Her actual through the golden blaze 
 Wherein her truths are paraphrased." 
 
 Gently she answers, — 
 
 ''But the word 
 Which lightens reaso%stands preferred. 
 Morris, can thought, slow born, evolved 
 
 Through hours of doubt and labor, 
 Be stronger help on life's tried path 
 
 Than its more gifted neighbor? 
 The spirit light ? the spirit word ? 
 O'er all these rational senses heard, 
 
 When knelt the Christ at Tabor ? 
 
 '* My mother always said to me, — 
 
 ' Follow the clear impression ; 
 That which brings peace to thy stilled soul 
 
 Hold fast in thy possession \ 
 For Christ-love ever whispers thee 
 
 The word of intercession.' 
 
2 2 EDITH. 
 
 *' I read more clear each finished year 
 My childhood's cherished warning, 
 
 And know the inward light is ne'er 
 Subject to thought's adorning. 
 
 It guides the accomplished thought, and calms 
 With still small voice, its scorning." 
 
 *' Well, Anna, list thee while I read 
 
 How life to-day is waking, 
 What germ lies 'neath this strange crusade 
 
 That bursts with sudden breaking? 
 This Temperance movement, born of Faith, 
 
 Through faith its converts making." 
 
 He read the Western story told, 
 Where womanhood, with suffering bold, 
 
 Assumed to rule the hour. 
 Battling for husband, sire, and son 
 Against the wine-fiend's malison. 
 Battling with vice, each dark retreat 
 She touched as Mercy's paraclete. 
 With prayer of faith, till cold hearts beat 
 
 Filled with a strong, new power. 
 
 Pausing, he spoke, — 
 
 ^* Anna, there seems 
 
EDITH. 
 
 To be a strange wild power in this ; 
 
 What pity that the human mind 
 
 Must range so far amiss ! 
 
 What good can come from nerves upwrought, 
 
 ' Through sheer excitement, to a height 
 
 Which in the cahn rebound of thought 
 
 Must shame its actors? In my light, 
 The moral strength whose centred force 
 
 Of reason born is passion stilled. 
 Alone can stay the drunkard's course 
 
 Or maddened thirst, — in high resolve 
 Is God's best will fulfilled." 
 
 As when through summer tangles 
 Springs the light brook gladly on, 
 
 Its silvery-voiced music 
 
 Taking daintier, dreamier tone. 
 
 Till the ear, attuned to listening, 
 Hath inattentive grown. 
 
 Comes the light breeze dashing forward, 
 
 Tossing wild the tuneful spray. 
 And we turn, with sudden startle. 
 
 At its changeful roundelay ; 
 So this last concluding sentence 
 
 Startled Edith at her play. 
 
 23 
 
24 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 The voice that spoke was pained and sad, 
 
 The low tones falling clear, 
 With a half-doubting softness, sank 
 
 Upon the young child's ear ; 
 Their quiet pain just touched the point 
 
 Where pity blent with fear. 
 
 Lightly the doll resumed her place, 
 The book passed from her hand. 
 While with a quick observant grace 
 She turned towards her mother's face, 
 
 And with a keen eye scanned 
 How far the sympathetic chord 
 Of feeling met the thought and word. 
 
 , ANNA. 
 
 ''Alas! we know not, Morris — all 
 Have not this gift of self-control ; 
 
 Calm reason might, yet seldom does. 
 Resist the tempting bowl. 
 
 Like a sick child should he be held 
 Who perils thus his soul. 
 
 '' It may be that a good unseen 
 For the near future lies in this; 
 
 Faith hath her perfect work ; to us 
 Her ways may seem amiss. 
 
EDITH. 
 
 Yet, thrice refined, her gold is weighed 
 Even in a temperance crnsade. 
 
 ''I tell thee, not one prayer is lost : 
 Some lone inebriate feels its power, 
 
 Some shivering wife, some poor child crossed 
 In life's best hopes ; her only dower, 
 
 Perchance, a smile by angels given, 
 
 As faith's sweet prayer is heard in heaven." 
 
 Silent sat Edith there, — her hand 
 Closed with a slow and quiet thrill, 
 
 As the quick blood in crimsoned flood 
 Passed upward, onward, till 
 
 It bathed the fair young cheek and brow 
 In its impetuous will. 
 
 Silent she sat, — all undefined 
 
 Crowded in close review 
 Shadows of things unseen, refined 
 
 By child-thought, ever vivid, true. 
 And sweeping o'er her eager mind 
 
 In pictures infinite and new. 
 
 Veiled by a terror indistinct 
 
 Rose suffering, want, and childhood's pain ; 
 
 25 
 
26 EDITH. 
 
 She saw from little moaning lips 
 The needed succor turned again, 
 
 And in her heart a low, deep cry 
 Of anguish echoed its refrain. 
 
 Lightly the golden sunbeam fell 
 Around her as it quivering played. 
 
 Dancing in doubles, curled in rings, 
 
 Through the pines graceful spraylets made. 
 
 As restless in the rude west wind 
 
 The tall boughs by the casement swayed. 
 
 Oft had she pleasant converse held 
 
 In play-thought with the changeful shadow, 
 
 Peopling the creep of sheen and shade 
 With frolic forms of wood and meadow, 
 
 Who, deep in folk-lore's mythic rites, 
 Laughed back imagined child delights. 
 
 Now danced the rippling shades unseen ; 
 
 Her large dark eye, dilated, saw 
 One scene of secret pain, — but one 
 
 Had Edith's life; its iron law, 
 Unknown to all, was hers alone, 
 
 And woke and mingled with her moan. 
 
EDITH. 
 
 Her father's voice low answer gives, — 
 *'It will not do, nay, Anna, nay; 
 
 Thy faith, so trustful, only lives 
 In hope unfounded, stern to-day. 
 
 Demands her truths undoubted, clear. 
 
 We may not pour in wisdom's ear 
 The theories of fancy's play. 
 
 '^ Man knows, yet glories in his shame ; 
 
 Self-willed, defiant. Will he turn 
 With a fixed purpose from his ways 
 
 For prayers and tears? Nay, from the urn 
 Which holds their dust will come the cry, 
 ^ These might, but would not.' Man, perforce, 
 Can turn the torrent's giant course, 
 And all subdued, by wire and will, 
 Bring nature's occult forces still; 
 Yet, scorning conscience, love, or right. 
 This vice, once learned, ne'er yields its might." 
 
 Now uprose Edith Aubrey 
 
 From her corner, from her play. 
 The dark-eyed child whose merry laugh 
 
 Made home's glad echoes gay. 
 The darling of the homestead hearth, 
 
 The welcomed bud of May. 
 
 27 
 
28 EDITH. 
 
 She passed around her father's chair, 
 
 And, leaning by his side. 
 Her arm around his neck she threw. 
 
 And earnestly replied, — 
 ''Papa, was God's best will fulfilled 
 
 When Uncle Alan died? 
 
 " Oh ! don't thee know how hard he tried; 
 
 He tried all summer long; 
 He would not go to any place 
 
 For fear he might do wrong. 
 Thee knows how much thee talked to him, 
 
 And helped him all along. 
 
 " Oh, papa ! I can see him now. 
 How, when his friends would come 
 
 And coax, and coax him out with them. 
 He'd seem as he were dumb ; 
 
 He'd only say, ' Thanks, comrades, but 
 My duty lies at home. ' 
 
 ''And mamma said that it was hard, 
 When all his friends were going, 
 
 To stay at home and study books. 
 And translate Virgil, knowing 
 
 That every one would ask for him 
 At picnic and at rowing. 
 
EDITH. 
 
 *'And he was always good, and then 
 
 When in the harvest weather 
 He ran the reaper, and I went. 
 
 We always were together ; 
 I brought him water from the spring, — 
 
 I did not mind it, either. 
 
 ** He took it always with a smile. 
 And seemed as he were thinking ; 
 
 He'd say, 'As Kirjath-Sepher's gift 
 Comes this cool, pleasant drinking;' 
 
 And he would look so sad sometimes, — 
 He seemed to fear his thinking. 
 
 ''And then thee knows Maud Merrill came, 
 And coaxed him all the morning 
 
 To her reception. Oli ! he went ; 
 He had not any warning 
 
 They would have wine " 
 
 MORRIS. 
 
 "Hush, Edith, child; 
 Don't talk so, love ; thy words are wild." * 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 " Papa, she bade him pledge with her, — • 
 (I heard him say so after,) — 
 3* 
 
 29 
 
30 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 To pledge the bride a happy life 
 And wedding's blessings waft her. 
 
 She ruled him with her pleasant words, 
 She shamed him with her laughter ; 
 
 He told me, papa, all these words. 
 He told me of it after. 
 
 " That day he took me in his arms. 
 And said, ' Sweet Edith, dearest, 
 
 In that life opening to thee now 
 Treasure these words thou hearest. 
 
 And always hold them in thy heart 
 Among thy very nearest : 
 
 *' ' Don't give or taste one drop of wine. 
 
 Don't give it unto any; 
 Pray God to keep thy spirit clean. 
 
 And be a friend to many ; 
 Teach poor weak man wine holds a curse 
 
 Will make a wretch of any.' " 
 
 The quivering red lips hushed, the arms 
 
 Of fond love clasped her tightly, — 
 " My Edith, love, 'twas wrong in me 
 To speak of this, not heeding thee. 
 And wake thy grief so lightly. 
 
EDITH. 
 
 Don't sob so, child ; such thoughts as these 
 
 Are not for merry childhood. 
 Come, get thy cloak, we'll out and walk 
 
 Away to the frosty wildwood. 
 We'll gather the nuts, we'll gather the leaves; 
 We'll see where the woodchuck's cabin heaves 
 We'll chase the squirrel who loves to steal 
 From Edith's stores his coveted meal; 
 We'll track the fox who barked last night. 
 And gave my Edith so much delight. 
 Come, pet." 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 *' Oh, papa ! let me tell. 
 Thee knows he loved me so, — so well." 
 
 MORRIS. 
 
 ''Why, all love, Edith. Hush, forego; 
 Don't sob so, child." But nestling low. 
 The curled head on his heart was pressing. 
 The pent pain surged a full confessing. 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 " Oh, papa ! yes, please let me tell. 
 That night it rained he was so wild, 
 He called Maud Merrill Satan's child. 
 
 31 
 
32 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 A beautiful fiend, and bade her tear 
 The serpent's coil that bound him there. 
 He said it wound him round and round, 
 
 It was the serpent of the still ; 
 And he screamed at the thunder's sound, 
 
 And bade the lightning do its will. 
 Papa, it was so terrible. 
 I could not sleep, and mamma met me 
 Close by his door. She would not let me 
 Go speak to him ; but next day, when 
 He grew so calm, I kissed him then. 
 And he told all these words to me. 
 
 '' Papa, would God not love him then? 
 Wouldn't God love him when he was 
 So sick and sad? I'm sure He would ; 
 For Jesus says that God is good. 
 He is so good, say, would He pain 
 
 Any one, papa? Would He fling 
 Dear Uncle Alan from Him, just 
 
 As if he was a wicked thing. 
 Into a fire that never dies, 
 And burns and burns?" 
 
 Her eager eyes, 
 Aflrighted, gazed into his own, 
 
EDITH. 33 
 
 And her voice sank until the ear 
 Scarce caught the trembling undertone. 
 
 MORRIS. 
 
 **Why, Edith, child, where didst thou hear 
 
 Such words as these? No, darling, no; 
 God loves us all ; He would not cause 
 
 The vilest thing to suffer so. 
 Who scared thee, child, with these dark laws? 
 I thought so guarded was thy youth 
 That naught but clearest, simplest truth 
 Could meet thine ear. Yes, God is good ; 
 Jesus well knew and understood 
 His great, grand love that gathers all." 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 *' Why did he talk so, papa, then ? 
 
 He is their minister ; they say 
 He's a great preacher. Katie says 
 People do crowd to hear him preach. 
 And there is nobody can teach 
 
 As he does every Sabbath-day." 
 
 MORRIS. 
 
 ''Who is it, Edith? tell me, pray. 
 
 What hast thou heard, and when, and how?" 
 
34 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 EDITH. 
 ** Papa, does thee remember now 
 When Maud was sick, — so sick and pale 
 After he died ? We called one day \ 
 Mamma felt best to drive that way 
 From meeting, some kind words to say ; 
 And while we waited for her, then 
 Katie asked me to come and see 
 Her new wax doll, and I asked thee. 
 And we ran into Ethel's room. 
 Their minister was there ; indeed, 
 I could not help but hear him when 
 He spoke so stern, and I stood still 
 Till Katie drew me out again. 
 He said these words: '■ God made some men, 
 From the beginning of the world. 
 Sinners who would do wrong; condemned, 
 
 In fires of wrath they would be hurled ' 
 
 Oh ! I can't bear to say the rest." 
 The young cheek curdled with its pain. 
 ''Don't tell itj" and the father prest 
 The fair child to his heart again. 
 
EDITH. 35 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 " I cried, and Ethel came to me. 
 She said I was a queer child, too, • 
 To notice things, and bade us go; 
 
 And Katie took me back to thee : 
 
 I did not care to see her doll. 
 
 Although it was so beautiful." 
 
 MORRIS. 
 
 *' Poor heart, thy happy hour was lost, 
 
 And his mind clouded in the thrall 
 
 Of deeper lines by darkness crossed. 
 
 But couldst thou feel such words were true?' 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 *' Oh, papa ! no. I always pray 
 
 When I think of them, and God takes 
 
 The ugly feeling all away ; 
 
 When I ask Him, He always makes 
 
 A blessing round me while I play. 
 
 I did not tell it to any one ; 
 
 It pained me, and I always know 
 
 I must not give another pain, 
 
 Nor let an unkind word remain 
 
36 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 Which I would not take back again : 
 
 Mamma says Jesus tells us so. 
 I love Him, papa, for He says 
 
 Children should follow Him below." 
 
 Brightly the clear eyes answering gazed 
 
 Into his own, with sadness fraught. 
 He rose, — '^ Here, Anna, take thy child. 
 
 For thine she is in word and thought." 
 
 ''For such the Saviour's fight was fought," 
 Said Anna, smiling through her tears, — 
 " With such His kingdom yet will own 
 But one far-reaching monotone. 
 The Christ revealed in love alone." 
 
 Out in the sunset shadows. 
 
 Where the gold glint glimmered and flushed 
 From the tall tree-tops to the crimsoning clouds. 
 
 And the low winds sobbed and hushed, — 
 Sobbed and hushed to a sleeping moan, — 
 Passed Morris Aubrey, oppressed, alone. 
 He heard not the wind, and he saw not the sky, 
 But he thought, -'Are these nearer to truth than I? 
 What is the faith these true hearts feel? 
 Is it born of the light? Is it human zeal ? 
 
EDITH. ■ 37 
 
 Does the living love of the unseen press 
 
 Nearest to man in his nothingness? 
 
 Are the grandeur of reason, the power of brain, 
 
 But links in an intimate, dim-seen chain 
 
 To a something beyond ? And what was He 
 
 Who taught in such grand humility 
 
 The crowds of listening Galilee ? 
 
 To me He is brother and friend, — true guide. 
 
 What was He else ? Was He more beside ?" 
 
 Ah ! once in a true heart's life must come 
 
 The question, the answer, that leads us home. 
 
 The moonlight lay on the meadow. 
 
 The bare trees, and the snow, 
 And the sparkle of stars in the upper sky 
 
 Were mirror' d in light below, 
 And the restful sleep of the beautiful night 
 
 Sank silently and slow. 
 
 Where the light drift lay in the hollows, 
 
 And the dark hill loomed on high, 
 And the hoar-frost wove its delicate work 
 
 'Neath the cold watch of the sky. 
 There were purity, peace, — a holy twain, — 
 
 In the stilled hour gathering nigh. 
 4 
 
38 EDITH. 
 
 And Edith knelt by the window, 
 
 In the silentness all alone, 
 And she gazed long on the eloquent sky, 
 
 Each star familiar grown. 
 Till the quiet hush of the heart above 
 
 Sank gradual in her own. 
 
 For thought was busy with Edith, — 
 Child-thought so quick and bright, — 
 
 While the trembling chords of a definite love 
 Slow drifting from her sight 
 
 Came back with a strong and resolute will 
 To her trusting heart to-night. 
 
 And she prayed the prayer that Jesus taught 
 
 To the lone ones by His side. 
 And she prayed her own sweet prayer 
 
 For all she loved beside. 
 And, ''Oh, God.! bless Uncle Alan, 
 
 And forgive him when he died." 
 
 Upon her cheek the tear-drop 
 
 In the moonlight glistened, shone ; 
 
 Say, was the young child suppliant there 
 In the moonlight all alone ? 
 
 Did an unseen power beside her bent. 
 Uphold and guide His own ? 
 
EDITH. 
 
 Who saw the forms on Tabor's height, 
 When, weak with shrinking sorrow, 
 
 Unclosed before the Master's sight 
 That dark sin-burdened morrow? 
 
 The taunt, the pain, tlie cross, the gloom. 
 Of Calvary's fearful horror? 
 
 But eyes accustomed to unclose 
 In childlike trust before Him, 
 
 With faith, which scoffed His human foes, 
 Yet knew the God-head o'er Him, 
 
 And saw revealed the prescient power 
 Whose S'trength alone upbore Him. 
 
 Oh ! poor weak eyes, and weaker hearts, 
 
 So dull, and slow believing 
 Our birth-gift, as the Saviour did. 
 
 Like Him through faith achieving 
 The glorious soul-life's rightful dower 
 
 Which waits man's full receiving. 
 
 39 
 
PART SECOND. 
 
 In the beautiful light of the soft spring sky, 
 
 When the sunbeam is here, and the shower is nigh ; 
 
 When the thrill of a beauty, warm, conscious, and still, 
 
 Reflects on our being, lies fresh on our will ; 
 
 When the air is afloat with a passionate weight, 
 
 As the song-bird re-echoes the call of its mate. 
 
 We pause, 'mid the richness of life, do we not? 
 
 At the bound of our pulses, and question our thought. 
 
 Whence cometh this ripple of joy ? Is our mood 
 
 But the impulse astart from the sensuous blood ? 
 
 Do we walk in our animal fulness and pride, 
 
 Chance atoms evolving from chances allied ? 
 
 When the universe moved to the chime that was rung 
 
 At the birth-hour of time; when the heavens were hung 
 
 In their wondrous completeness; when matter and 
 
 mind. 
 In atomic progression, kind clinging to kind, 
 Moved on, — were we left, as a finished aside, 
 To the grand correlation of forces applied ? 
 Does science teach wisely ? Is mankind akin 
 With a life that is not life ? Nay, turn thee within, 
 40 
 
EDITH. 
 
 41 
 
 O soul ! for thine answer : how grandly above 
 The pain of thy thought moves the confident love 
 Of the Christ-word inspoken, — '' One key still alone 
 Moves the hinges of Truth, to its grandeur upgrown ; 
 Then shall science my deep works unravel, — the key 
 Of the psalmist shall open thought, science, decree. 
 Until Light shall evangelize; rest thou in me." 
 
 Fair falls the spring-time beauty 
 O'er the favored land of Penn ; 
 
 Her mountain heights, her interludes 
 Of broad, bright valleys rolling on 
 
 Through cultured downs, by solitudes ♦ 
 
 Of wild, sweet grandeur, calmly thrown 
 Ever in curves whose lines express 
 The force of ruling gentleness. 
 Wake to the spring bird's call again. 
 No sullen peaks, untrod of men. 
 Lifting their ramparts, bleak and bare, 
 Defiant to the will and care 
 Of ages long, look out above 
 His glad Sylvania's trust of love. 
 Gentle her outlines, broad her wealth. 
 
 From nature's generous garners drawn ; 
 Her founder's prayer for peace and health 
 
 Moves o'er her sunset and her dawn. 
 4* 
 
42 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 Through all her breadth, the regal pride 
 
 Of Art, and Labor open wide 
 
 Her vast resources ; in her gift 
 
 The honest claims of will, and thrift, 
 
 And clear-eyed virtue stand supplied. 
 The pressure of an outward need 
 Builds industry's more noble creed. 
 The presence of rewarding power ; 
 
 The conscious freedom of the soul 
 To speak, to act, to guide the hour 
 
 As thought, and truth may bid it roll : 
 Whilst clang of hammer, and of steel 
 Ring outward with a stirring peal, 
 And flash of forge, and shuddering blast 
 From the dark mines deep caverns cast. 
 And the quick shuttles hum and clank 
 From inland rill or river's bank. 
 Each in their skilled enlightenment 
 Drink of the quiet blessing blent 
 In the mild Quaker's firm intent. 
 Who moulded statesmen, law, and thought 
 By the grand light his precepts taught. 
 
 And fair o'er Chester's broad expanse. 
 As drop her quiet homesteads down 
 
 On many a graceful slope, the glance 
 Of sunflash falls on fields of brown. 
 
EDITH, 
 
 Wherein the green of later hours 
 Is redolent of life and flowers ; 
 And all the iridescent hues 
 
 Her rich kaleidoscope reveals, 
 Are cinctured by a graciousness 
 Where peace enfolds with gentlest stress 
 
 The all that from her spirit steals. 
 Fair Chester holding firm the name 
 
 That Pierson spake in Upland town, 
 What time the glad Proprietor, 
 
 In manhood's early prime, looked down 
 Entranced, upon the noble bay, 
 
 The lovely river rolling on, 
 While far, and bold, the woodlands' play 
 From Tinicum to Elkland lay. 
 With scarce a measured rood, that day 
 Trod here the red man, friend, and friend. 
 With the mild Miquon, time could lend 
 No shadow o'er his soul's high power 
 To lessen truth ; the holy hour 
 Which crowned the compact grandly done 
 'Neath the broad elm of Kensington 
 Has thrown a glory high, and true 
 
 As ever burst on minds of men. 
 When equal rights, a birthright due, 
 "V^eighed in a love, a justice new. 
 
 Rose o'er the world by deed of Penn. 
 
 43 
 
44 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 In the gray light of the dawning, 
 When the stars grow pale o'erhead, 
 
 When the silent night retreating 
 
 Bears away each dark repeating 
 Of world-wide scenes of dread, 
 
 Then, with rich health upward bounding, 
 Springs the farmer from his bed. 
 
 Deep the sleep of pleasant dreamland, 
 
 With a conscience all at rest, 
 Whilst the morning's gift of blessing 
 
 On his pillow lightly prest. 
 Gentle peace and sweet contentment 
 
 Yield to him their calm behest. 
 
 Rough the dress the morning brings him. 
 Brown the hand, but clear the eye 
 
 Which, with first glance looking southward. 
 Scans the weather, reads the sky. 
 
 With a philosophic balance 
 Weighing nature's augury. 
 
 Then to duty, where the great barn 
 Sends its summonings to please, 
 
 As the cattle, snuffing outward. 
 Herald spring upon the breeze, 
 
EDITH. 45 
 
 And the doves with dallient cooing, 
 In orchestral cadence wooing, 
 Flutter nigh, and rest at ease. 
 
 Now from tenant homes anear them 
 Come the farm-hands gathering round ; 
 
 Stalwart forms and honest faces 
 Drop in posts familiar found : 
 
 Strong Erin with her humor shrewd, 
 
 Poor Afric, patient, skilled, subdued, 
 In meek dependence bound. 
 
 How quails the heart, and quail it must, 
 'Neath the dread thought that God is just ; 
 That through His calm, unvarying laws, 
 Still Retribution follows cause ! 
 Oh ! dark-browed race, the lines are cast. 
 
 The past has told her story; 
 The present veils a clouded brow 
 
 Before the future's glory. 
 
 What eye, with prophet skill, the page 
 May read which shadows o'er us? 
 
 Who sees far down the coming age 
 The bold events before us ? 
 
46 EDITH. 
 
 Shall the grand principles of truth, 
 Irradiate with eternal youth, 
 Control its gladdened chorus ? 
 
 If well our nation's honor weighs 
 
 True right divinely sifted. 
 From our free shores may bravely pass 
 
 A people nobly gifted 
 To flaunt again the aegis bold 
 
 Which ancient Egypt lifted, — 
 Egypt, whose sealed mysteries, 
 
 To the far world strangely shrouded. 
 Wait in their savage grandeur dumb 
 For these in cultured strength to come, 
 
 With clear eyes all unclouded, 
 To move where Afric's teeming wealth 
 Asks but the grace, the trained health 
 
 Of brain and nerve, to build anew 
 The wondrous promise of her youth. 
 To join with glad acclaim the world-wide march of 
 truth. 
 
 Then to her Sphinx's riddle true, — 
 Her Sphinx in thought-embodied might 
 Imperishably watching all. 
 
 As battling ages round her flew 
 
EDITH. 
 
 47 
 
 With time, and death, and man, and art, 
 
 With mad Ambition's ghastly crew, 
 With martyred myriads' loathing heart. 
 
 Whilst buried cycles black'ning threw 
 Their very memories apart. 
 Lost, lost in retributive night ; 
 Yet holding still her ghostly thrall. 
 
 She counts, and seals, and waiteth long, 
 Till, passed the oppressor's power of ill. 
 
 Till, passed the long, dark night of wrong. 
 
 The new light of that advent song 
 Shall fill the accomplished time, and thrill 
 The hollow hope of dumb despair. 
 
 As thrills the past's deep sob, with the free hymns' 
 glad prolong. 
 
 For in that low command which ever 
 Has haunting filled the ear of man, 
 Rippling with an undying quiver 
 Her jungles lone, her silent river, 
 A low, sad moan which lulleth never, 
 "Let the oppressed go free," we scan 
 The hope within the untutored plan 
 Which set the Sphinx's watch \ we meet 
 The heart-groan to be free. 
 
48 EDITH. 
 
 And true 
 To that instinctive throb which set 
 
 The unsolved wonder gazing down 
 The indescribable abyss 
 Of countless time, — while 'neath her feet 
 
 Lie buried cities of renown, 
 Waiting, as she waits, calmly through 
 The long, long roll of years, to hear 
 
 That whisper swell with deep'ning stress, — 
 The thrill of Mercy on the air, 
 ''They come; the risen Christ is here; 
 
 The Sphinx's riddle's solved, earth bears alone to 
 bless." 
 
 Read we our work, O patriot heart ! 
 
 Calm moving in the later light. 
 To urge adown the coming years 
 
 The blessed rule of Right ; 
 For lo ! the powers of olden wrong 
 
 Are marshalling for the fight 
 Which palsies' 'mid our nation's youth 
 The force of independent truth, - 
 And like the mesh Epeira winds 
 Around her victims, seeks to bind. 
 And back to cringing darkness roll 
 The glad, free upspring of the soul. 
 
EDITH. 
 
 Give we to hungering hearts the light 
 
 Eternal goodness means for all, 
 As human progress gathers might, 
 And thought assumes its fuller height 
 
 With life's enlarging hope, and call. 
 Onward the bidden Good must tread, 
 
 The myths of error dropping by. 
 Strewing their stubborn Hydra dead 
 As pebbles by the shores, where dread 
 
 And dark their sullen shadows lie. 
 Leaving untouched the spirit-grace 
 God stamped on this down-trodden race. 
 When lonely cane-brake, wild morass. 
 Felt His uplifting presence pass. 
 And inborn faith, with eyelids dim. 
 Looked up unfalteringly to Him. 
 
 May Afric lose it never ! 
 
 Trace we the thought whose promptings kind 
 Stirred Morris Aubrey's generous mind, 
 As to their several tasks assigned 
 
 His workmen to their duties passed ; 
 And Lamar lingering behind. 
 
 Smiled to the smile so freely cast. 
 A small, slight man, with crippled knee, 
 5 
 
 49 
 
50 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 Whose face, in ebon blackness bound, 
 
 Was radiant with that nature found 
 Of such dark skin and honesty. 
 A waif outcast from slavery, 
 
 What time the railroad underground 
 
 Throughout our shuddering country wound 
 Its midnight posts, a lonely boy, 
 With look that humble suffering gives, 
 Sat with the hunted fugitives. 
 A kind friend marked his fevered pain. 
 And asked the sick child might remain. 
 So where our Kennett hills drop down 
 
 In easy culture, broad and free, 
 To meet the slopes of Brandywine, 
 
 And our meek friends move silently 
 Through works of good, a kindly hand 
 Led him to comprehend the grand 
 
 And blessed boon of liberty. 
 A pupil in our Quaker schools, 
 
 The equal rights unconscious thrown 
 From childhood's heart, oft builds a life 
 
 To highest attributes, alone 
 A loving reverence rendered he 
 His boyhood's friends. "Lamar, for thee. 
 See that the ploughing goes aright, — 
 That hill-field should be done by night ; 
 
EDITH. 5 1 
 
 And see that Patrick by the woods 
 Sets that fence true. I go away, 
 For this is Quarterly meeting day 
 Thou knowest, and weighty matters may 
 Detain us late. Thy work will be 
 As usual, holding guardedly 
 A watchful care as seemeth best ; 
 Thy judgment will supply the rest." 
 
 * * * ;jc ;f; * 
 
 Up in the morning early. 
 
 As the red tint fades from the sky, 
 And the sweet breath born of the dawning 
 
 Floats through the casement nigh, 
 While the wild birds toss their matinee 
 
 In musical reply, 
 Sprang Edith, roused from her slumbers light 
 
 By the glad strains sweeping by. 
 
 She drank the joy of the morning. 
 
 She drank of its life, and its love. 
 And the warmth of a heart that is led aright 
 
 Turns trustfully ever above. 
 For the first rich thrill of thought should be 
 
 To God a gift of love. 
 
 And Edith knelt by the window, 
 In the dim, sweet morning air, 
 
52 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 Telling the weight that her young heart felt 
 
 In her daily secret prayer, 
 While the pleading tones of her childish love 
 
 Sank low on the stillness there. 
 
 How little we know of the questioning thought 
 
 That fills a young child's brain, 
 As it ponders a phrase its ear has caught 
 
 Over and over again ! 
 It will tell a thing with gladness fraught, 
 
 Yet seldom tells its pain. 
 
 Somewhere on her ear had fallen, 
 
 Somewhere carelessly given, 
 ''The drunkard shall never inherit," 
 
 Never, *'the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 And she breathed the prayer that Jesus taught 
 
 His own at eventide. 
 And she breathed her own sweet prayer 
 
 For those she loved beside, — 
 And, '' Oh, .God ! bless Uncle Alan, 
 
 And forgive him when he died." 
 
 The shout of her little brother 
 At length comes up the stair, 
 
EDITH. 
 
 And the softened call of her mother 
 
 Of, "Edith, awake, prepare; 
 Come play with the baby, darling, 
 
 While I see to the morning's care." 
 
 The dew-drop's glow on the lawn below 
 
 Twinkled, and paled, and shone, 
 As the breakfast-bell, with its summoning swell, 
 
 Rang out a resolute tone, 
 Swayed well by boyish hands, who gaze 
 
 With awe at its lofty throne. 
 At the farmer's board by the stroke of six 
 
 Must the workmen's meal be done. 
 
 The herds are fed, the oxen yoked, 
 
 And patiently stand ''at hay;" 
 The sheep, with a bound to the grassy field, 
 
 From the fold have fled away, 
 And careful hands have well performed 
 
 The needs of the opening day. 
 
 A pleasant place is the farmer's board. 
 With the rich, ripe gifts of the summer stored, 
 When woman's thought, and her guiding hand, 
 Sees well to the means at her command, 
 
 5* 
 
 53 
 
54 EDITH. . 
 
 Throwing a delicate care, and skill, 
 
 O'er the crowding comforts which rise at her will 
 
 From fruited bough, and freiglited soil ; 
 And the charm the eastern Sibyl knew 
 When the plenteous feast uprose to view 
 
 (Though the golden springs told naught of toil), 
 Is one her hand may bring anew. 
 
 With gentle thought, and quiet smile, 
 
 Paused Anna Aubrey there. 
 Observant that each one around 
 
 Received a generous share. 
 How nature stamps with sovereign grace 
 
 The lady everywhere ! 
 
 Her hand, — it was not such an hand 
 
 As fashion's role requires, 
 Whose delicate, ethereal mould 
 
 The moonlight ode inspires, — 
 Though small and fair, yet knew it well 
 
 To work out life's desires. 
 
 The well-set head, whose pose betrayed 
 
 Almost a pride unspoken, 
 Gave to her look a dignity 
 
 Of conscious power the token ; 
 
EDITH. 
 
 The life-long rule of self-control 
 Had all to calmness broken. 
 
 55 
 
 Had other hopes, and other scenes 
 
 Allured the country maiden, — 
 That gayer life the world unfolds, 
 
 With dance, and music laden ; 
 She might perchance have owned the charms, 
 
 Of Thespis or of Haydn. 
 
 For in the finely-moulded lips 
 
 A something still was lurking. 
 Which hinted, rather than expressed. 
 
 The warm, impulsive working 
 Of feelings, which to dare the whole 
 
 Scarce bore the semblance of control. 
 
 Yet in the dark eyes' calm repose, 
 
 The wavy hair's smooth dressing, 
 Spoke all that mild, collective grace 
 We meet in the sweet Quaker face. 
 Whose bonnet, plainly pressing, 
 Folds inward, Truth's controlling light. 
 Outward, the world's seductive might. 
 
56 EDITH. 
 
 The span await ; no spot or stain 
 
 Must soil the cosy carriage 
 In which our quiet-minded friends 
 Go forth as duty recommends, 
 
 From meetings grave, to marriage ; 
 And gathering without delay 
 Comes now the usual bright display 
 On *' Western Quarterly meeting day." 
 
 A halo which must aye endure 
 
 Floats round the mandate, '' Be thou pure ;" 
 
 Pure, that thine inward life may be 
 
 At one with God's sweet harmony; 
 
 Pure in the outward, that another, 
 
 Whose doubting faith falls wearily, 
 May find, in looking on a brother. 
 
 The higher law revealed in thee, 
 The glory of the Christian name 
 Unshadowed by a cringing shame. 
 ^ ^ ^ Hi * * 
 
 The fields have won a shade of green, 
 
 And, pale and few, the flowers 
 Peep out by roadside and by hedge, 
 Or, crannied by a rocky ledge, 
 Where southward sweeps the woodland's edge. 
 
 Await the May-time hours; 
 
EDITH, 
 
 While budding leaf, and tassel fling, 
 An odor of the early spring, 
 A breath of faintest blossoming. 
 
 From the low spice-sprouting bowers ; 
 And the ripple of waters gliding fleet, 
 
 With a musical tinkle comes the while, 
 
 As the winding roads for many a mile 
 Echo the tread of the horses* feet. 
 
 And kind love speaks in the quiet smile, 
 As distant friends sedately greet. 
 
 A pleasant love of olden lore 
 
 Aye lives within us, and we trace 
 
 The first steps of the pioneer 
 With grateful, acquiescent grace. 
 
 While in their Father-life we read 
 
 Mute deeds which speak a noble race. 
 
 So with those grave-browed, earnest men 
 Who came with Penn across the sea, 
 
 To plant with such eff'ective will 
 
 The seeds of Truth, for mankind free. 
 
 Who tilled the soil so deep with prayer 
 That ever their work must hallowed be. 
 
 57 
 
58 EDITH. 
 
 True to their memories comes a sense 
 
 Which bids us, gentle Love, to lay 
 Upon thy shrine a holier gift 
 
 Than meets the casual glance to-day ; 
 For faith had worked to perfect love 
 
 Supreme for good in such as they. 
 
 And from thy quiet heights, O Grove ! 
 
 We glance o'er cultured field and wood, 
 And trace the time when William Penn 
 
 With gathered Friends devoutly stood, 
 Selecting fitting sites to rear 
 
 Truth's simple word in quietude. 
 And by the humble Meeting-fane 
 
 The School-house rose twin force for good. 
 
 Far down thy valley's line we trace 
 
 Where he with David grave, his friend, 
 Ate of their humble meal ; the shade 
 
 Of the grand trees might haply lend 
 A fitting Sabbath rest as these 
 
 Drew in the great Life beautiful, 
 The great, wide, changeless love, which never knoweth 
 end. 
 
 While through his mind prophetic swelled 
 
 That vision which his future held. 
 
EDITH. 59 
 
 For clear in faith's full horoscope 
 
 He saw his glad Sylvania rise, 
 Meek Mercy crowning all her Truth 
 
 With holiest justice, while her skies 
 Smiled to the freeman's free-will gift 
 The sweet heart-hymn, ''Love, love to God 
 
 And man be truest sacrifice." 
 
 Firm on their rock — the "Light within" — 
 They stood, these workers, friend and friend, 
 
 And built far up the stream of time 
 The noblest truth,— it hath no end ; 
 
 The force the Quaker drew to earth 
 
 Moulds man and law, and still must lend 
 
 The outward sure advance, a growthfulness sublime. 
 
 And now, oh grave-browed sires, we stand 
 
 Where you stood, in the glorious day 
 Of human progress ; shall we come 
 
 Our gifts in high-born hope to lay. 
 Enshrined in prayer as true to life. 
 
 As close to God as yours alway? 
 
 Oh, beating hearts ! bend low ; He lists the while 
 we pray. 
 
6o EDITH. 
 
 In the quiet Quaker meeting, 
 
 Sitting silently, and calm, 
 While the soft, low breeze, 'mid the shading trees, 
 
 Whispers a faint, sweet psalm, 
 So soft, and low that the spirit athirst 
 
 Heareth, and drinketh its balm. 
 
 From open doors the freshening air 
 
 Steals hushed, and listless through. 
 Chasing the fires still lingering there. 
 
 While, calm as Ophrah's dew. 
 Sinks down within the honored walls 
 
 The silence fitly due. 
 
 Out-door, the voice of singing-bird 
 
 Unrolls a listening pleasure. 
 While the hush, and hum, of the bee's low thrum, 
 
 Seeking her waxen treasure. 
 All speak of the joy surrounding life 
 
 In nature's stintless measure. 
 
 Within, with mild, collected face. 
 
 And hands in meekness folded, 
 While downcast eyes, and reverent grace 
 Feel "God is in His holy place, 
 
 Be ye devoutly moulded/' 
 
EDITH. 6 1 
 
 Sit maid and matron, sire and son, 
 Before the great all-seeing One ! 
 
 How deeply falls the silence, 
 The calm, submissive silence, 
 The hushed, deep, waiting silence. 
 Of the Quaker meeting-house 1 
 
 Above, along the galleries' line, 
 
 On either side the centre, 
 The elders of our Israel sit. 
 
 Observing as they enter 
 The younger members, who should walk 
 Gravely, with no unseemly talk. 
 Lest Friend's unsteadiness should mock 
 
 The testimonies lent her. 
 
 On benches, cushioned, plain, and neat. 
 The large, wide building filling, 
 
 The middle-aged, and younger meet, — 
 
 Youth has its gallery, fair, and sweet 
 Are those, who, mildly willing. 
 
 Sit patiently, and wait the word 
 God giveth when His call is heard. 
 6 
 
62 EDITH. 
 
 With sealed lips, and tranquil air, 
 Centred in humble waiting there, 
 
 Until the Life within arise. 
 At length from galleries' midst arose 
 A brother, on whose head the snows 
 Of many winters rested well ; 
 And as he spoke the light grew in his eyes, 
 
 And, gathering force, his words with clear, full 
 meaning fell : 
 
 '*This world, my friends, is full of active thought; 
 Creeds, theories, and forms usurp the place 
 Of simple Christian truth ; the will of man 
 So mystifies the faith that Jesus taught, — 
 So shrouds the spirit-glory of His words 
 With superstition, doubt, and weak debate, — 
 That darkness, as a sad and sure result. 
 Clouds up between our soul-life and our God. 
 
 *' Man is a reasoning being, yet a light 
 Of higher power is given, — a clearer word 
 
 Is spoken to the soul ; and He who came 
 To evidence this truth has shown to us 
 
 How close is God's near love in that He came. 
 
EDTTH. 63 
 
 *' For Jesus came a bearer of the Truth ; 
 
 He lived that truth in every act and hour, 
 
 And from His lips that truth, regnant with Life, - 
 
 Fell with undying force. The touching love 
 
 Of His grand Being as a magnet draws 
 
 The soul within us to Him, reading there 
 
 In light revealed the perfect will of God. 
 
 ** And this Truth, what was this which Jesus came 
 To bear His witness to? Why did He lay 
 His young, pure life down at the will of man, 
 Rather than temporize or dim that truth? 
 
 *' To manifest the love of God, He met 
 
 In manly dignity, in spirit strength, 
 
 The cross, the shame, the death ; yet shrank from this, 
 
 And at the moment prayed the cup might pass. 
 
 The shadow of the birth-life floated down 
 
 Momently o'er His soul, then passed away ; 
 
 For in His grand humanity He was 
 
 Like as we are in flesh and blood, — a man. 
 
 The man of Nazareth was babe and boy. 
 
 In His pure mother's arms, and by the grace 
 
 Of strict obedience to the voice of God, 
 
 The still, small voice within. He knew not sin. 
 
 And Jesus grew the Christ revealed to men. 
 
64 EDITH. 
 
 " In this, His pure example, we behold 
 The mission of His life, — submission, faith 
 In God, and love to man ; in this the truth 
 He bore His witness to was sealed and set ; 
 In this His coming as the called of God, 
 The prophesied of ancients, was fulfilled ; 
 That union of the spirit, mind with God, 
 Which man obedient to His will may know, 
 Brings into being all that pure new life. 
 The Christ born in the soul, the true Divine. 
 And in His Life's Obedience here we see 
 And recognize the power which saves from sin, 
 And reconciles us to the Father. Here 
 Is the atonement, in the yielding up 
 All self and self-will to the will of God. 
 
 *' Throughout the reasoning world, there runs a 
 
 vein 
 Of thought, which names Him merely born of 
 
 man. 
 Here is a point wherein no human mind 
 Can teach another. God alone can give 
 The inspiration which unfolds its truth. 
 Spirit must open spirit; reason fails. 
 Or, bound by her own struggles, blinds herself. 
 
EDITH. 65 
 
 "Yet He personified the power of God, 
 
 And man beheld His works. But did He 
 
 claim 
 Ever that He was God ? Nay, His grand aim 
 Was to redeem from outward law ; to cleanse 
 The inward sacrifice ; to draw away 
 From all externals — from Himself; to bring 
 Our whole life to a consciousness of power 
 Concentrate with the Father. Jesus came 
 Teaching a Truth so simple that the pride 
 Of earth rejects it : that upon the rock 
 Of God's revealed will stands firm His church, 
 Whose beautiful accord makes all men free." 
 
 Long fell his fluent words on ears 
 
 Whose rapt attention followed still 
 Point after point, explained at length, 
 In all the fervid warmth, and strength 
 
 Of calm conviction's simple skill. 
 No bursts of florid eloquence, 
 No studied arts, whose vain pretence 
 
 May rouse the sense emotional, 
 But clear in conscious dignity 
 He led the listening thought to see 
 
 In Christ the Christ-power known in all. 
 6* 
 
66 EDITH. 
 
 Again the deep, hushed silence, 
 
 As, restful by the throne, 
 Our human hearts seem'd gathered 
 
 By a chorded love alone. 
 In quiet calmness, self-possessed, 
 
 A mother in our Israel now 
 Arose, her bonnet lightly pressed 
 
 Passed from her hand ; the even flow 
 Of gentle words fall on our ear 
 As, thankfully, we list the counsel falling clear : 
 
 " When we go back, and read the records old 
 
 Of dealings which the Almighty held with man. 
 We learn God breathed in him the breath of Life, 
 
 And he became a living soul, — the plan 
 Of perfect wisdom here is fully laid. 
 This living soul was in communion with 
 Its heavenly parent, and it disobeyed, 
 And heard that close reproof 'mid Eden's shades, 
 * Adam, where art thou ?' for ^ Of all the trees 
 Thou mayest freely eat but this, the tree 
 Of the knowledge of good and evil.' Here we see, 
 When we presume of our own wills to learn 
 Of good and evil for ourselves, we earn 
 The condemnation which self-will must meet. 
 This is forbidden fruit, and Adam heard, 
 
EDITH, 67 
 
 After he had transgressed, a voice which stirred 
 
 A terror in his soul. Never before 
 
 Had that reproof met him. We hear no voice 
 
 Of condemnation till we sin ; then the voice 
 
 That Adam heard we hear, its force we see. 
 
 If thou doest well, accepted thou shalt be ; 
 
 Do thou not well, sin lieth at the door, — 
 
 Not Adam's sin, but our own sin. The creed 
 
 Teaching original sin you will not find 
 
 In all the Bible, friends. His peace of mind 
 
 He lost through disobedience, just as we 
 
 Who scorn God's perfect laws to-day rebuked shall be. 
 
 Oh ! what instruction lies in this, my friends ! 
 
 Let it be ours to listen and obey, 
 Growing in spiritual growth towards 
 
 The fulness of our God's appointed way. 
 As fruitful branches of His living vine. 
 Unto His laws in love let our whole lives incline." 
 
 A deeper strength grew in our hearts 
 
 As in her earnest words she laid 
 Her gift before us. Faith imparts 
 
 A blessing when its life is stayed, 
 
 And with the love that gives, communion sweet is 
 made. 
 
68 EDITH. 
 
 Sank once again the silence. 
 
 Did the rush of unseen wings 
 Lowly, lowly o'er us bending, 
 Softening, nearing, upwards wending 
 With a musical unending. 
 
 Sweep the listening spirit's strings? 
 While the rapt prayer inly moving 
 Bathes within the eternal loving, 
 Bends beneath the fire of proving, 
 
 In the calm, hushed meeting-house? 
 
 Now one of younger years, whose face 
 And pure, sweet eyes expressed the love 
 
 That filled her life, with gentle grace 
 Arose, and took the word that strove 
 
 For utterance, and, warm and true, 
 
 She breathed the Christ-life that her spirit drank 
 anew: 
 
 **Art thou in health, my brother? My sister, art thou 
 
 clear ? 
 Art thou in health before thy God, feeling His presence 
 
 near ? 
 Do little hindering things of earth cumber thy pathway 
 
 here ? 
 
EDITH. 69 
 
 " We stand before our Father's eye, we feel His guiding 
 hand ; 
 
 He gives us power His will to know, His wish to under- 
 stand ; 
 
 With gentle love He leads us still to follow His com- 
 mand. 
 
 ** Oh ! looking on our secret hearts, what shall His eye 
 
 unfold ? 
 Bring we our talents used and bright,, bring we our 
 
 burnished gold ; 
 Bring we the loving, loyal faith He seeketh as of old ?" 
 
 The sweet, clear, tremulous voice went on. 
 
 And we who sat beneath its power 
 -, Felt drawing round our inmost hearts 
 
 The spirit of the hour. 
 The sense of Life, the sense of Prayer, 
 The Master's healing presence there. 
 
 A fair young head bent humbly down, 
 
 And vocal supplication rose. 
 Thanks giving to the God of light. 
 Entreaty that His word aright 
 
 May fill our hearts, and so enclose 
 Our fellow-man that peace renewed on earth. 
 Love, and good-will to all may bring the blest Christ 
 birth. 
 
70 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 An elder rose and said : '^ If Friends' minds now 
 Are well relieved, it would be seasonable 
 
 To close the shutters;" and they slowly fall. 
 And either meeting, after a reasonable 
 
 And waiting pause, proceed in reading all 
 The queries and their answers. 
 
 "Th' state of the society" gravely comes: 
 " Friends are clear, in a good degree, 
 
 Of words detractive, unity prevails. 
 Yet it were well more guarded to be." 
 
 *' Clear in the making or the sale we feel. 
 Of what intoxicates. Friends should be 
 
 Careful to guard our younger friends 
 From the dangers of evil company." 
 
 " Friends live within the bounds of their means 
 
 And are just in the payment of debts, and try 
 To rear in plainness of words and dress 
 
 Their younger members, accordingly 
 With the rules of Discipline, yet we own 
 
 To a great departure, and hope that Friends 
 Will bear in mind the Testimonies 
 
 Which truth requires to bless her ends." 
 
EDITH. 71 
 
 So passes the business; works of good, 
 
 Calling for action, rise between; 
 Aid for the oppressed Indian, aid 
 
 For the Freedman, interest heart and scene. 
 While a grave and thoughtful dignity 
 
 Rests ever on word and tone and mien. 
 
 Age gives her counsel, and youth her thought, 
 A trembling voice oft meets the ear; 
 
 The lip must speak when the spirit prompts, 
 And the call of duty is close and clear. 
 
 Glides on the hour, and centres adown 
 Once more the silence, hushed, subdued. 
 
 When the clerk's low voice in softened tone 
 Gently announces "The meeting concludes." 
 
PART THIRD. 
 
 ANNA. 
 
 *' How beautiful the spring-time ! 
 
 Life, I toss thy cares aside ; 
 Let nature's glowing loveliness 
 
 Awhile my thotlghts divide, 
 While the thrush's song, and the plover's call,- 
 
 Through the tremulous sweetness glide. 
 
 '' To-morrow brings the queenly June, 
 
 To-day May bids good-by. 
 And Edith greets her first decade ; 
 Their merry laugh fills all the shade 
 
 As her comrades gather nigh. 
 
 '^ For me an hour of idlesse falls, — 
 
 I greet the spirit of nature well, 
 As sweet the scent of a thousand blooms 
 
 On the frolic south winds stoop, and swell. 
 While I listen, the rustle, the spring of earth. 
 Life calling to life, in its jubilant birth. 
 The annual hymn to the great unknown 
 From His glad recipients, breath and tone, 
 72 
 
EDITH. 
 
 Tuned to the key that rapture wakes 
 Chord ing a sentient joy. Does it brfeak 
 
 Through the long vibrations of countless space, 
 Till the delicate roll of its finished whole 
 
 Beyond our limits of sound, find place 
 With the beautiful paean of Life redeemed? 
 
 Ah, Life ! return with thy hidden love, 
 Till its affluent fulness will draw the heart 
 
 Of a unit world to its light above. 
 Then shall the understood Christ-word be, 
 As Jesus breathes its symphony, 
 The grand Cabala to all in thee. 
 
 "And life is joy, and the joy of life 
 So quivers, and enters in all we see. 
 
 As we fold the mammon of earth away, — 
 As we open our souls to the sunshine free, — 
 
 How can the will of the creature be 
 
 Other than one with its harmony? 
 
 How can the birthright of being be aught 
 
 Than an exquisite joy, O God ! in thee ? 
 
 " The delicate moss, the lichens gray. 
 The veined stone beneath my foot. 
 
 The tremor of gladness which fills the air, 
 The tingle of growth in bud and shoot, 
 
 7 
 
 73 
 
74 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 The charm that the mute insensate holds, 
 
 Read we not in each touch, and tint, and line, — 
 How the Infinite Presence sublimes, and moulds 
 
 Its normal fitness, its wise design. 
 Its beautiful real, below and above ? 
 Ah ! ever the force of unchangeable love, 
 
 The near unseen, lies close, and clear, 
 An aura of blessing to all things thus. 
 
 What need of a fabled Pan to bear 
 An intermediate charm to us ? 
 
 *' But list, from the busy group I hear 
 
 A call for me ; my fancy stays 
 Her flight as laughing eyes draw near. 
 
 How sweetly falls joy's golden haze 
 
 On these young hearts ! A glad surprise 
 To Edith and to all they plan. 
 Be mine to mould the loftier man, 
 
 That each life's hidden truth shall know its strength 
 arise." 
 
 Willie and Arthur, four and eight. 
 
 Held counsel sage by the entrance gate. 
 
 Along the drive, on either side, 
 
 Maple and pine the shadows divide; 
 
 Upwards a gentle smooth ascent 
 
 To the fair bright home of the Aubreys went,— 
 
EDITH. 
 
 A pleasant home of the olden time, 
 
 With a varied beauty round it thrown, 
 As art, and taste, with skill refined 
 
 Studied with nature shade, and tone. 
 But Arthur, and Willie, eight, and four. 
 Pondered the question o'er and o'er. 
 "I'm 'fraid grandfather won't like it, Willie; 
 He'll say, 'Be discreet, boys, not silly;' 
 But 'twould be real fun, too, though, 
 Thee to play Archie, and me to play Joe, 
 And be like troopers ; and Flora she'd go, 
 She'd gallop to hear my horn just so," 
 
 And a long, loud blast on a trumpet red 
 Woke a sharp response from robin o'erhead. 
 While the sound contagious, thrilling the vein, 
 Brought Willie's whistle from pocket again, 
 And a full according dissonance 
 Their musical merits to each enhance. 
 
 Sudden a pause, — " Why, Arthur, I — 
 I dess dran father' 11 not mind it ; I — 
 Dranmamma'U let us. I'm doin' to try. 
 I want my flag on Jack just like, 
 Like Lamar fixted the mules an' Smike, 
 
 75 
 
76 EDITH. 
 
 An' Snap, when Drant was 'lected ; an' I — '■ — 
 Oh, yonner they come !" And the gate flew wide, 
 While at a quiet, leisurely walk 
 Came the mild object of their talk. 
 
 ARTHUR. 
 
 *' Please, grandfather, we want to ride." 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 " Well, boys, come round to the other side 
 And step in." 
 
 WILLIE. 
 
 '* Why, dranfather, oh ! 
 I'se a page, — I'se Archie, — and Arthur is Joe. 
 He's a trooper ; an' we want our flags way up high 
 On the horses, 'cause 'ts Edith's birthday, don't thee 
 know?" 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 *' A trooper? What means that? A trooper; so, so ; 
 And a page with white dress and blue ribbons, — oh, ho ! 
 The birthday, — oh, yes, we all know that. But why 
 Must the birthday have flags, little Willie ? Draw nigh. 
 And step into the carriage." 
 
 ARTHUR. 
 
 '' Grandfather, we mean 
 'Cause we're all playing fairies, and Nellie is queen, 
 And we have to bring thee a-riding." 
 
EDITH. 
 
 77 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 " Well, well. 
 But the fairies ride broom-sticks, so I have heard tell ; 
 And what of that, Arthur?" 
 
 WILLIE. 
 
 *'Why, dranfather, why. 
 We is play-fairies, all of us, an' Arthur an' I. 
 I'se a page ; an' Lamar says that is the way 
 We must all be so nice, 'cause it's Edith's birthday ; 
 An' we wants our flags up there, 'cause Arthur is Joe, 
 An' Dreneral Washinton he rided so ; 
 In my new book I'll show thee it. Now, don't thee 
 
 know? 
 Please, dranmamma." Out with a quiet smile 
 She had looked on the eager eyes ; the while 
 Thoughts of her own brave boy came back 
 On the paining links of memory's track. 
 While the sad, low throbs of her heart confess 
 The battle of the Wilderness, 
 Where, bending o'er with pitying glance 
 The horror-laden ambulance. 
 With skill to heal, with hand to save 
 His honored country's wounded brave, 
 His bright young manhood met a grave. 
 7* 
 
78 EDITH. 
 
 Ah ! strong hearts bowed, while true men died. 
 She threw the quivering pain aside, 
 And mildly to the call replied. 
 
 ESTHER. 
 
 *' The horses are quiet, the distance is short ; 
 
 David, some duty in childish sport 
 
 Is with them ; they are so in earnest, and they 
 
 Are boys. Might they not in their whimsical play 
 
 Be indulged?" With a quiet "so, so," 
 
 David answers, " Well, well, I suppose so. I know 
 
 Small profit such play hath. However, well, boys, 
 
 Put them in as you wish." With an eager up-poise, 
 
 The mimic flags twine in the mane, and the fold 
 
 Of the stars, and the stripes to the wind is unrolled. 
 
 Over the bridge, where the bright waters leaping 
 Low trammel the ear with the mists of its rune ; 
 
 Under the boughs, where the dense shadows sleeping' 
 Are rich with the glad notes the song-birds intune-j 
 
 O'er the low grass where the dews of the night 
 
 Still rival the prism in changes of light. 
 
 Moves the slow, steady team, with the boyish outburst 
 
 Of the fresh hearts, with answer, and question athirst. 
 
EDITH. 79 
 
 With smile surprised, the grandsires now 
 Hear the bright trumpet's sudden glee, 
 
 While frolic forms in laughing mirth 
 Spring up from path, and shrubbery, 
 
 And round them close, and bear them on 
 
 With mimic force, where brightly shone 
 Their tryst beneath the tulip-tree. 
 
 '* Sit down, grandfather, sit down," they cry ; 
 " And sit, grandmamma, with Edith nigh. 
 See, we have woven our bower of state. 
 And ye will preside? Dearest parents, we wait 
 
 On your word. We are fairies, — we come and go ; 
 We are elfs from the weird land, and waifs from the 
 
 wild ; 
 We are mystical Undines, sun-lift piled. 
 And our Aphrodites from the waters below 
 Are the greenest of sea-nymphs; just see them \ and, oh ! 
 Say but the word, and our genii shall spring 
 From the earth-mists, the wealth of our wonders to 
 
 bring." 
 
 Smilingly, lovingly, Esther down. 
 
 As the merry prattle around them rose, 
 Stooped, kissing the rosebud lips of those, 
 
 And smoothing the locks on each glossy crown ; 
 
8o EDITH. 
 
 But a look of almost stern distress 
 Lay on the grandsire's quietness. 
 
 ''Anna," he said, "these children of thine 
 I fear too much to the world incline ; 
 From these pernicious books they read 
 Must rise the growth of evil seed. 
 Not this the way thy fathers walked. 
 Nor knewest thou this idle talk ; 
 Each new departure from old ways 
 Brings weakness on these later days." 
 
 " Dear father," whispers her low, calm voice, 
 " Let us drop in the children's mood to-day ^; 
 
 The harvest shall bid us all rejoice, 
 
 For our seed in the furrows of love we'll lay. 
 And the warmth that lifts the germ must garner the 
 fruitage-day. 
 
 " Too heavily down on our childhood's heart 
 Oft falleth the weight of our riper years ; 
 
 We have robed our youth as the brides of Christ, 
 Oft with rejoicing, yet oft with tears ; 
 
 Let us bide His will, for the Lord will call 
 His own when His time in time appears. 
 
EDITH. 
 
 *' Sow we our seed in prayer, and faith, 
 Knowing the Father will guide, and hear, 
 
 Whilst we watch, and prune, as the spirit saith, 
 Away from envy, deceit, and fear. 
 
 Shall not the unseen Love smile down 
 
 On the innocent gladness which meets Him here?' 
 
 ''And, David," with her quiet smile 
 
 Spake Esther, "'tis unusual, dear. 
 That thou and I should thus be set ; 
 
 Yet let us not with silver hair 
 The gladness of our youth forget. 
 Nor lose that He of Nazareth 
 
 With gaze of interest looked upon 
 The children of the market-place. 
 Whose piping songs, and dancing pace, 
 
 No censure from His spirit won. 
 Like His, our work may be to start 
 A wiser thought in some young heart. 
 
 " Here, Nellie, take my bonnet, dear, 
 And smooth my cap with fingers light, 
 
 And, Alice, closer draw my shawl ; 
 
 How thankful to the Lord of all 
 
 For life, for love, this morning bright 
 
82 EDITH. 
 
 We should be ! My beloveds, be still, 
 A few brief moments seek His will." 
 
 Obedient sank each light form prone 
 On the soft grass ; rhght well they knew 
 
 Grandmamma's habit ; her sweet tone 
 With talismanic power drew 
 
 Ever each young heart nigh her. Now 
 
 A deep hush sealed each lip and brow. 
 
 'Twas a fair scene ; in green enfold. 
 Its emerald all alit with gold, 
 Away the broken country rolled. 
 Warm in its sunbright radiance, far 
 
 Sloped hill and valley, interchanging 
 With darker woodland belts the rare 
 Soft tints of early spring; and there 
 From freshened furrows rose the maize. 
 Plume-like, to greet the sun's broad gaze, 
 And grain-fields sweet in freshness bent. 
 
 The light breeze o'er them rippling, ranging ; 
 The kine upon the sloping hills ; 
 
 The waters in their rapid flow ; 
 The pleasant farm-homes, cool and still ; 
 
 Look out upon the morning glow 
 In all the calm of sweet content. 
 
EDITH. 83 
 
 Nearer around them, dim and deep, 
 
 The cool, continuous shadows sweep. 
 
 Where through the pines the breeze was swaying, 
 
 While tall trees watched their leaflets playing, 
 
 And the squirrel poised on his branch to throw 
 
 A curious gaze on the group below. 
 
 Around the stately tulip-tree, 
 
 Whose smooth, firm bole ascended clear 
 Some threescore feet above, there wound 
 
 A dainty rustic seat, and here 
 The glad young artists had essayed 
 
 A graceful canopy to rear. 
 With knotted columns ivy-twined, 
 
 And roof of grape-vines interlaced. 
 Draped with the delicate ferns of spring 
 
 In quaint designs, all deftly traced. 
 Whose weird-like symbols, and mystic rings. 
 Inlaid with floral blossomings, 
 A hidden imagery enshrined 
 To young eyes deep in storied lore, 
 With whom the sieve on the open sea 
 Contained as truthful a mystery 
 As famed Aladdin's wonderful wiles. 
 And the sudden rise of the palace of smiles, 
 With its magical richness welling o'er, 
 Was as true as the truth of the Koh-i-noor. 
 
S4 EDITH. 
 
 And as each with gift, and moss-wreath laden, 
 A band of cousins, merry, and free, 
 Had come in the morning's open hour • 
 To build for the birthday /^/^ a bower. 
 As a first surprise to the little maiden — 
 They had heightened their work's solemnity 
 By many a bit of brave romance 
 Culled from historic times, and chance; 
 And many a page, for childish wonder 
 Was thrown to the wee ones gazing under ; 
 Whilst apt citations of spell and faery 
 Were woven with glee in the fabric airy. 
 As the clear-eyed talkers, laughing, ran 
 From First-day school to Ghengis Khan, 
 Till their all was wrapt in its mystery. 
 
 Now hushed in silent reverence sat 
 The waiting group, the two-year wean 
 
 Nestling in loving confidence 
 
 In the warm fold of sweet sixteen, 
 
 While tall young lads with frank, clear eyes. 
 
 Noted with quiet heed the grandsire's look serene. 
 
 A large grave man, whose face expressed. 
 In lines from inward conflict caught, 
 
EDITH. 85 
 
 That mild resolve, whose conscious rest 
 
 Is born of pain, and holiest thought, 
 A look of settled peace, which says, 
 
 "The goal is near, the fight is fought." 
 With air of simple dignity, 
 
 As one who having borne the toil 
 Of life, had conquered, and would fain 
 
 Shield others from the same assoil. 
 
 As silently he sate, the while 
 
 Communing with the inward word. 
 
 The kindly heart relaxed its hold 
 
 On sterner thought, and in him stirred 
 
 The in- word, *'They who work in faith 
 Shall find in me their work preferred." 
 
 Around him circled, hand in hand. 
 
 The childish forms ; an eager light 
 Lay in each eye, as fearing much 
 
 Their glad play might not fall aright. 
 And in each young heart's hope he read 
 
 A dread, dim-shadowing delight. 
 
 He spoke, — "Well, children, be it so; 
 
 Be fairies if your play so choose. 
 If but each young heart holds aright 
 
 The first love in its morning dews. 
 
S6 EDITH. 
 
 Sit nearer, Edith, may this sport 
 A wholesome influence diffuse. 
 
 We wait these fairy messengers. 
 Is that right, Nellie?" 
 
 "Father, thanks; 
 I knew thy love could not refuse 
 
 Or sadden these unwonted pranks," 
 Laughed Anna, as a glad acclaim 
 
 Rose grateful from the childish ranks, 
 "Who circle round them, hand in hand. 
 While Alice takes the speaker's stand. 
 
 " Oh, list to the Fairies' greeting, 
 
 To the Fays in the woodlands meeting. 
 
 As we gather from homes afar. 
 
 Lo ! we come from the Orient's sweetness. 
 
 Where the pearl, and the opal glows ; 
 We bring Nevada's treasures ; 
 
 And Denver's wealth disclose ; 
 Where the lights of the nordlands glimmer 
 
 We have brought of its simple truth ; 
 Where the Indian oceans shimmer 
 
 We have gathered the warmth of youth \ 
 With the delicate gifts of our far renown 
 We come the birthday queen to crown. 
 
EDITH. 87 
 
 "We have treasures of hidden knowledge, 
 
 We have books of wondrous might, 
 Which throw on the human spirit a charm 
 
 Of measureless delight ; 
 With the witching grace of the weirdland, 
 
 Bend we thus to the haunts of man, 
 For the force of our magical power 
 
 Has been since time began. 
 Receive in its weight what the fairies unfold, 
 Great is their power to give and to hold." 
 
 A smothered laugh from the gleeful throng 
 Somewhat the speaker's words prolong. 
 As a look of half-amused surprise 
 Lay in the grandsire's thoughtful eyes, 
 And quietly taking their playful strain. 
 His measured words respond again. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 "Bring, then, from those hidden treasures, 
 From this wealth of far renown. 
 The gifts I ask. Her innocence 
 Seal ye with Virtue's clearest sense. 
 
 Which lives in truth alone, 
 That ever, as dross beneath her feet, 
 Earth's false delights may fall, nor meet 
 
 To mar her life's high tone." 
 
88 EDITH. 
 
 A merry whisper through them passed, 
 
 When, with a roguish pleasure, 
 A box of bonbons, quickly planned. 
 Was placed by Cousin Abner's hand 
 Beneath her slipper's measure. 
 
 The brown eyes lifted. " Grandfather, 
 I'll share my share to-morrow 
 
 With poor lame Harry by the mill ; 
 He is sick, and they have sorrow." 
 
 The smile that lit each radiant face 
 New sweetness seemed to borrow. 
 
 While Nellie's words demurely drest : 
 " Obedient to thy wise behest. 
 Thus fill the Fays thy first request." 
 
 He smiled. " Now bring her Knowledge, 
 That the spirit of worldly pride 
 
 May bend, subdued, as a broad, clear light. 
 In her soul is sanctified. 
 
 Seal her child-heart to the beautiful True, 
 
 Knowing the right, with a love to do. 
 And her joy shall be multiplied." 
 
EDITH. 89 
 
 Again the whispered council passed, 
 
 And "Books, our books," was the low reply; 
 
 And tripping feet with sudden glide, 
 
 Dropping their gifts by Edith's side, 
 Flitted with rapid movement by. 
 
 While gravely Nellie's clear voice rings, 
 " See, we have gathered from many a spring 
 Of delicate knowledge this offering ; 
 Name yet another our power to try." 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 '* Bring, then, with firmest strength, the force 
 
 That Temperance gives the heart. 
 So that self, with grasping, covetous will, 
 
 Shall find in her no part ; 
 For the world will lure to its evil ways. 
 Crown ye the joy of moderate days, 
 
 Refined, and free from art." 
 
 Moments of rapid thought assumed 
 A long-drawn tension, ere the look 
 
 In Nellie's laughing eyes resumed 
 Its wonted clearness ; then she shook 
 
 Her light curls with a sudden toss, 
 As quick resolve her purpose took. 
 8* 
 
90 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 They chose a spray of smilax frail, 
 With strawberry blooms, and lilies pale, 
 And over her shoulders round, and fair, 
 Lifting the wealth of her ringlets rare, 
 They laid the delicate wreath at rest, 
 With a sprig of broom on the tender breast. 
 
 Parted the group expectant round, 
 
 As radiant Nellie answer found, — 
 
 '' Humble worth in self-denial, 
 
 Purity in days of trial. 
 
 Lofty aims all truth allied, 
 
 See the pledge in this supplied." 
 
 Smiling, the grandsire met the smile 
 Which beamed observant round the while. 
 
 Then, gravely, ''Seal her nature now 
 
 With Patience, rich with light. 
 Gentle and restful. Though her path 
 
 Lead on through clouds of night. 
 Let faith in the Christ her love renew. 
 And as God is one, she shall know Him true. 
 
 As she seeks to obey aright." 
 
EDITH. 
 
 A wee bright girl, whose chubby hands 
 Could scarce her offering hold in lure, 
 
 Came forward, and in Edith's lap, 
 With soft-blue ribbon leash secure. 
 
 Laid now her gift, a snow-white dove, — 
 Giver and given meek and pure. 
 
 NELLIE. 
 
 " See Love and Patience in life-long thrall 
 Meet in this gift, wee Mary's all." 
 
 The fair child nestled by Edith's side, 
 
 A smile of sympathy each to each 
 
 Flashed out ; there was no need of speech 
 O'er the priceless pledge, so love allied. 
 
 The silent compact each gazer bound, 
 
 While a restful quietness sank around. 
 It passed. 
 
 " Now crown a higher grace 
 
 In ' Godliness of Soul.' 
 When the young heart, taught by the voice of truth. 
 
 Grows strong 'neath its control, 
 Reading that good is meant for all ; 
 Free, when the Prince of Peace shall call 
 
 His great work on to roll." 
 
 91 
 
92 EDITH. 
 
 Alice, and Philip, cousins twain. 
 Place now at wondering Edith's feet 
 
 A group, where shrank a flying slave, 
 And three tall forms with brows replete 
 
 With holy sense of right, looked on 
 
 As half to life uprisen, resolved her cause be won. 
 
 NELLIE. 
 
 *' See, kindles 'neath the sculptor's moulding 
 Love of right in each beholding. 
 
 Oh ! grandly, and free, as the sweep of the. sea 
 Quickens the heart 'neath arts unfolding ; 
 Emblems of an high endeavor, 
 Filling life, forever, ever. 
 With a purpose undismayed, 
 Thus the seal we set is laid." 
 
 Quietly rested the grandsire now. 
 
 As he noted the thought on each upturned brow, 
 
 Then gently spoke, reflective, slow, — 
 
 *' With these should come a fuller joy, 
 
 As Brotherly love conveys 
 In its calm, and holy confidence, 
 
 The zest of restful days, 
 
EDITH. 93 
 
 So open her trained thought, and seal 
 Her anchored faith, where faith may kneel 
 As it hymns its maker's praise." 
 
 The watchful thought in Nellie's eye 
 Flashed into light as she made reply,— 
 
 " We read thy riddle, we see, we see 
 That ^The seventh and last will be Charity;' 
 The ' cardinal virtues' crowned must be. 
 Up, fairies ! up from your haunts ! behold ! 
 Neither with gems, nor yet with gold, 
 
 Nor the wealth of the sea 
 
 Shall the earth-rites be. 
 Nor the coral trinkets, so deft, and bold. 
 
 Oh ! the crooning wail 
 
 Of our midnight sail 
 Must sink to a murmur low, and dree. 
 
 " Up, with fingers apt and fleet. 
 
 Up, with quick, and noiseless feet. 
 
 Weave ye, with choicest skill, the crown 
 
 Which gracefully down 
 
 On a brow as pure as a martyr's sigh 
 
 When the end is nigh. 
 
 And as fair as the snow-spray reeling on 
 
 Upon ocean's lift when the storm has flown. 
 
94 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 " Soft let it rest, 
 With a blessing prest 
 From lips we honor, 
 Whose touch upon her 
 
 For life a memory blest will be. 
 
 '^ Twine ye ivy for love's own winning, 
 Bouvardia for life's pure beginning; 
 
 When its cross hath neither a shade or blot, 
 To sully the sweeter charity, 
 Our daisies brotherly love shall be. 
 And the silken cord without and within, 
 Close in front with the amethyst pin, 
 
 Draped in a sweet forget-me-not. 
 
 *' Now, king of onrfefe,'' cried joyous Nellie, — 
 And her dimpled cheek to a warmer flush 
 Glowed in the joy of her triumph blush, — 
 •' See, the Fairies' work is over; 
 Yet we linger, yet we hover 
 
 Round her till the crowning blessing. 
 Till thy touch, august, and ready, 
 Till thy will, defined, and steady. 
 Looking far through the portal 
 Dim, shading, the mortal. 
 Leads, guides the immortal 
 
 To purer possessing. 
 
EDITH. 
 
 95 
 
 " Hushed and awaiting, our gift we proffer, 
 Meet symbols of earth-life, thus we offer." 
 
 A touch almost of awe arose 
 
 With Nellie's words, unconsciously 
 To her bright self; around her, those 
 
 Whose years mature could smile to see 
 
 The roll of childish pleasantry, 
 Stirred to the thought that all on earth 
 Is destined, through the gentler birth 
 Of good within, to give abroad 
 A conscious unity, accord 
 With the heart's reverent '' Love to God ;" 
 That childhood's play, maturer thought, 
 The aims of life, all, grandly brought 
 Through simplest lift of prayer, before 
 The unseen eye, takes fuller scope 
 As peace unmeasured springs to meet the call of Hope. 
 
 There's a spirit presence that dwelleth in man, 
 And it bideth in him through time, and tide ; 
 
 Over the dial of passing events 
 Its shadow, unseen, is felt to glide. 
 
 The crafty plotters of wrong may build 
 Their works of evil, and deem they hold. 
 
96 EDITH. 
 
 'Neath an outward hush, and a studied smile, 
 
 The knowledge of all they weave, and mould ; 
 But come in the path of him, whose soul 
 
 In the light of truth hath lived alway, 
 And the spirit presence which bideth in him 
 
 Will read that wrong as the light of day, 
 While its shadow falls with a dim unrest 
 
 On the soul of him who hath gone astray. 
 
 Oh for the confidence fuller, clearer, 
 
 Oh for the faith to feel, to know 
 That the light within in the souls of men 
 Is the same to-day, the same as when 
 It spoke to man in the Eden of then, 
 
 In the Eden of innocence long ago, 
 When the twilight hush on the thought was lying, 
 And the longings of earth were fainting, dying. 
 
 Drooping away from the judgments within. 
 When the still small voice to the spirit ear 
 Rang as a summons distinct and clear, 
 While the step of the Lord seemed gliding near, 
 
 And the sinner bent low 'neath the weight of his sin. 
 Oh for the confidence pure and true, 
 
 Which, folding this wealth of the past aside. 
 Comes with a strength ever given anew 
 
 To gather our manna at morn's clear tide, 
 
EDITH. 
 
 Our manna which falleth fresh, white as then, 
 And is more to our world's great life to-day 
 Than aught that floats from the misty gray 
 Of the beautiful, saddened past, to lay 
 
 A leaden weight on the hearts of men. 
 
 Gravely the grandsire rose ; his form 
 Massive, and tall, yet scarcely bent 
 With weight of passing years, whose flight 
 Through eighty summers backward sent 
 Their deep-grooved memories' varied light. 
 A farmer's life of action, health. 
 The hush of quiet hours, the wealth 
 Of home's best joys, all, haply lent 
 Firmness to nerve, to mind content. 
 Lifting the broad-brimmed hat which pressed 
 His scant white locks, he stood at rest. 
 
 Beside him, with a purpose warm 
 
 With love's own thoughtfulness, imprest 
 
 To. lift the hands which else perchance 
 Might drooping fail, rose Esther, best 
 Beloved by all. That love confest 
 
 Lay on her brow, and when she smiled 
 
 Her warm, sweet charity, beguiled 
 
 9 
 
 97 
 
EDITH. 
 
 The troubled heart to peace. A glow 
 Of merry interest lay beneath, 
 As these, the weavers of the wreath, 
 Stood, mutely wondering what new thought 
 Would to their puzzled minds be brought ; 
 For well they knew, while kind, and true, 
 A moral lesson would be taught. 
 
 Slow smiling, with a kindly grace. 
 He took the young child's hand, her face, 
 Rose-tinted with expectant wonder. 
 Turned to her comrades gay, as under 
 The dainty wreath which Esther's hand 
 Received, and held, she waits command. 
 
 DAVID. 
 
 " The king who giveth word, and power, 
 
 Is ever nigh, to Him we turn, 
 Asking that on this play-wrought hour 
 
 May fall that grace our lives may learn : 
 And, learned in happy childhood, much 
 
 Of pain goes from you, and distress 
 Knowing Him friend, — I ask for you 
 
 To love Him more, and lose Him less. 
 And I would on your minds impress 
 
 These deep truths, opened us by Paul, 
 
EDITH. 
 
 Which his clear wisdom would express 
 
 As seven virtues, building all 
 The structure of a noble life, 
 Leading that life to perfectness. 
 Virtue, the unspoiled human heart ; 
 
 Knowledge, to know all right as good ; 
 Temperance, to quench undue desires ; 
 
 Patience, love truly understood ; 
 And Godliness, as squaring all 
 
 Our lives should live, in truth, and faith ; 
 And calm Fraternal love, which strikes 
 
 A chord in all the spirit saith ; — 
 Heed well these steps which lead you free 
 To the high Christ-gift, Charity. 
 
 ** I would my sons, and daughters bright, 
 With all their learned lore, and light, 
 So different from the even flow 
 Of young life sixty years ago, — 
 When in our pioneering strife 
 We little knew of cultured life, — 
 Would cling to one thing dear to me 
 That guarded sweet simplicity. 
 In which the truth makes all things free. 
 And now we crown our birthday queen 
 With honors — may their fruit be seen." 
 
 99 
 
loo EDITH. 
 
 As Esther, smiling, stooped, and laid 
 The fragile wreath so gayly made 
 Upon her brow, — "I ask for thee 
 The grandeur of humility; 
 May God's dear blessing on thee fall. 
 And with His blessing crown you all !" 
 
 Stooping, the tall man raised the child, 
 
 And folded her with warm caress ; 
 But Esther spied the starting tear. 
 
 Telling of more than words express. 
 And smiled, and spoke right cheerily. 
 While all the thronging urchins vie 
 Greeting the lady of the fete 
 In glad, confusing joy elate, 
 And turning then, all voices meet, 
 Giving the grandsire promise sweet. 
 
 Said Alice, *^Be I nymph or fairy, 
 Grandfather, I will ne'er be airy ; 
 But in my life must twine the good 
 Of honest Quaker womanhood." 
 Cried sturdy boys, *' Doubt not, our work 
 Disdains alike to fear, or skirk ; 
 With sobered judgment, honest men. 
 We'll cast our lot with Fox, and Penn." 
 
EDITH. lOi 
 
 Laughed Nellie, ''Ere I don the bonnet, 
 Dear parents, let me write my sonnet, 
 
 And skip, and play, while glide away 
 Whatever doubts may rest upon it ; — 
 Then in my soberest armor drest, 
 I'll join the ranks, and aid the rest, 
 Each with your own pure lives imprest. 
 Think not our childish meeting play. 
 
 Perched silent on the school-room benches. 
 Our preaching with a grave display 
 What dear Lucretia's love might say. 
 Remembered from the last First day 
 
 (With sundry doubts and sundry wrenches), 
 Will ever, ever, pass away. 
 We'll bear our noble leaders up. 
 
 And sift Macaulay's keen researches, — 
 And show the Christ-word lifts a man 
 
 With royal right o'er human lurches, 
 While tempered is our work, with thought 
 Of you, from whom our light is caught." 
 
 And the spirit-presence with loving pow:er 
 Restingly lay on the morning hour. 
 
PART FOURTH. 
 
 The waning June, with each sweet refrain, — 
 The light mist fringing the alders low. 
 The trill of the Hyla lengthened, slow. 
 
 On the moist air boding the coming rain ; 
 The resolute peal of the Bufo's cry. 
 As she cheeringly springs from covert nigh, 
 
 And wends her way to the tryst again ; — 
 And the night-hawk's lonely cry, the dash 
 
 Of his sudden plunge to the meadow below : 
 While traileth the fire-flies' luminous flash 
 
 Till the dark woods sparkle with tinsel glow ; 
 While the whippoorwill's song, so glad, and far, 
 From the tangled copse where the deep glooms are, 
 
 Ringeth away on the hush of the night — 
 
 The old familiar sounds of the night. 
 
 Telling anew the renewed delight. 
 
 As the dewy hours drop down to meet 
 
 The stir, and glow of the harvest heat. 
 
EDITH. 
 
 Wakes there a chord of joy that we miss 
 From the perfect whole of a June day's bliss, 
 When the heart hath garnered no undue care ? 
 Oh ! to lie in the outer air 
 On the velvety green by the new-mown hay, 
 Watching the cloud-folds, gathering play 
 With the reaper's rattle just faint away, — 
 
 Alone, in the luscious month of June, 
 When the dark leaves sway in an anthem alway, 
 
 While the shadows lie hushed on the noon. 
 And the old oak tells, to the poplar bells 
 
 What the whispered spells intune. 
 While the luminous air grows rich and rare. 
 
 With the weight of the mystic rune. 
 
 Ah ! the tale they whisper hath notes as strange 
 As the Peris' wings, who mount, and range 
 
 Away to the dim empyrean blue \ 
 The honey-bee lurks on the wild-rose stem, 
 Rifling the sweets of its diadem. 
 
 While the purpling shadows fall dimly through, 
 She listens, and bears the story from them. 
 And the leaf, and the tree, are telling to me 
 The song of the beautiful mystery, — 
 The song that filleth creation's plan, 
 Only unheard by the senses of man, — 
 
 105 
 
I04 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 The honey-bee drops to the clover-bloom, 
 Foldeth her wing, just for a minute. 
 Close to mine ear, and whispers within it 
 
 The self-same song ; but the sweet perfume 
 And the human senses, ever astart, 
 Drown all but the key-note down in my heart. 
 Can we, will we ever attain 
 To read the wondrous, slumbrous strain, 
 Floating through nature's rapt domain ? 
 
 With a chirrup that startles, so close, so loud, 
 The cricket glides from his hall of state ; 
 Just under the stone where the shadows wait, 
 And the gray rock's lift, bends slopingly down. 
 He keepeth his palace, the burnished brown 
 Of his coat I see where the Orchis heaves 
 In its upward growth the sere dry leaves. 
 
 Their tessellate arches around him crowd. 
 What nameless quest, what unsung foray, 
 
 Lures thee abroad, blithe woodland rover? 
 Too luscious the air for the dim repose 
 
 Of thy curtained room, when the scent of the clover 
 Weighs faintly around, and the odors meet 
 Of the myriad blossoms that crowd at my feet, 
 And round thy rock's rude pedestal greet? 
 
EDITH. 
 
 105 
 
 There every fissure gives root, and place, 
 To the delicate ferns' unfolding grace \ 
 And never did wild brier toss away 
 From upland rift a daintier spray ; 
 And never did richer moss than here 
 Its courts, and towers, and grooves uprear, 
 With its crimsoned bud, a regal gem 
 As a glory crowning its slender stem ; 
 And never did lichens curl and cluster 
 With lovelier tints and livelier lustre 
 Than grace thy rocky haunt. 
 
 Above, 
 The wood-robin's song, the song we love, 
 Thrilleth, and filleth the heart, and the grove, 
 Tender, and mellow, and liquidly clear, 
 Its exquisite dignity rests on the ear. 
 Oh ! bird of the forest, thou bringest to me 
 The pain that saddens a memory 
 For she whose spirit so drank thy tone. 
 Whose sweet voice rivalled thine own, thine own. 
 As with eye, and ear, enrapt, attent. 
 Through all her being thy melody went. 
 
 As she, answering, gave thee note for note. 
 While through thy wild haunts, lone, and wary. 
 With Bonnie Doon, and Highland Mary, 
 
 Her untaught songs would gladly float. 
 
Io6 . EDITH. 
 
 Thy song o'er the woodlands is swelling, and breaking, 
 She sleepeth the sleep that knows not waking, 
 And the world falls dreary. 
 
 Gather the cloud-folds ; rolling dun 
 
 The massive blocks pile into one ; 
 
 Down their dark nucleus in the west 
 
 As yet the muttering thunders rest ; 
 
 But their signal has flown through the air, and the earth. 
 
 And a shadow of dread, in the warning has birth. 
 
 Light wings cleave the sultry air. 
 
 Hurriedly to covert flying, 
 Huddle the sheep for the shepherd care. 
 
 And the young lambs plead with a plaintive crying; 
 From pastures deep, the grazing herds 
 
 Snuff" the changed air, slow homeward tending; 
 With fallen crest, bold chanticleer. 
 Regardless of his harem near. 
 
 To shelter cautiously is wending ; 
 With wild, clear cry, and stately air, 
 
 The slow geese leave the water's flow ; 
 From upland fields the jubilant ducks 
 
 With ceaseless call, and answer go : 
 They scent the promise of coming cheer, 
 When the rain shall plash, and the floods appear ; 
 
EDITH. 
 
 While mindful of all the little duties, 
 The cares that round her pathway lie, 
 
 The farmer's wife '^seeth well to her householdj 
 As the storm-cloud's centre is rolling nigh. 
 
 With quickened step, and ready will, 
 The workmen test their farming skill 
 
 In gathering the hay ; 
 The windrows rise in gradual length 
 As plies the raker, speed, and strength. 
 The fragrant heaps are tossed amain. 
 And lightly fill the loading wain, 
 While willing hands, and muscles strain 
 The shelter of the barn to gain, 
 Replacing in its measured train 
 
 The team that glides away ; 
 The huge fork lifts the load in air 
 With sturdy sweeps, descending where 
 The ample mows receive, and bear 
 
 The harvest's, rich display. 
 No time to cool the heated brow. 
 Or dally with remissness now, 
 And glad the shout, when, 'neath the mow 
 The last load stands, while near, and low 
 
 Growls the deep thunder's play. 
 
 107 
 
io8 EDITH. 
 
 Dark in its heavy front advancing, 
 
 Lit casual with the lightning's glancing, 
 
 While the quick' ning thunders shudder, and break, 
 
 On the hot, still air, in the rain-clouds' wake, 
 
 Sweeps on the gathering storm, anear 
 With ragged edges, shifting, changing. 
 Luridly dark, and restlessly ranging. 
 The low scud stoops, while the breath of the wind 
 Follows in rapid career behind. 
 
 Morris steps on the terrace and pauses to laugh. 
 
 * ■ 
 
 MORRIS. 
 
 *^ Enthusiast, coming the tempest to quaff?" 
 
 ANNA. - 
 
 " The poultry are folded, the dairy has gone. 
 Thy pensioners cared for, my duties are done. 
 See, Morris, the grandeur, the glories that rise 
 In the film of the cloud as it sweeps o'er the skies. 
 Come learn of its mission, all humble, and wise." 
 
 MORRIS. 
 
 "In the war of the elements readest thou then 
 A lesson that links with the logic of men ?" 
 
EDITH. 
 
 109 
 
 ANNA. 
 
 "There's a lesson in all things to him who will read, 
 And the logic of life is its call, and the need. 
 See, thf gloom overspreads us, the strata above 
 Lies in sunshine and azure, in light that we love ; 
 But the cloud is upon us, the pores of the earth 
 Like the pores of the soul need regenerate birth ; 
 The lightnings of thought keenly flash through our life. 
 But the thunders of passion bear down with their strife. 
 Till the bolt, as conviction, — see yon as it falls 
 On the woodlands before us, — our weak faith recalls. 
 While the low falling rain, as it sinks on the plain. 
 Like the smile of acceptance, brings gladness again ; 
 So read we this lesson, in grateful accord. 
 With this grandeur that moves in the might of the 
 Lord." 
 
 MORRIS. 
 
 *' Come, moralist, cease thee. Come, Anna, within ; 
 There is danger abroad in the tempest's wild din." 
 
 ANNA. 
 
 *' Is there ever a danger to those who have faith 
 In the arm that encircles, the power which saith, 
 ' Ask ye in my name, and thy heart-wish shall be 
 As thy truth is, accepted.' " 
 
 10 
 
no 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 The storm has rolled to a distance, 
 The sun breaks through the cloud, 
 
 Once more the voice of the wood-bird 
 Joins the reveille, full and loud, 
 
 Which fills the earth with a glad acclaim 
 
 Ere the vesper song is heard. 
 Ere night unrolls her shroud. 
 
 On the trees the sunbright welcome 
 
 A thousand lamps have lit. 
 Where the clear drops gather, and tremble, and fall, 
 
 As the rainbow glories flit 
 
 Through the bended arch, on the troubled east, 
 While the promise outpoured on all 
 
 Floats back in smiles to it. 
 
 With eyes of sparkling gladness. 
 With cheeks of roseate health. 
 Sprang Edith out with her brothers 
 To gather the day's last wealth. 
 
 To trace the floods, to ford the streams, 
 To aid in the shout of the others. 
 
 When the musk-rat's small eye gleams, 
 And they track his lair by stealth. 
 
EDirii. Ill 
 
 The rainfall lies on the meadows, 
 
 And sparkles the bending spray, 
 While the bare feet of the merry child 
 
 Dashes its beads away. 
 
 Just as a child's foot ever should 
 When reigneth Sirius mild 
 
 And the warm south breezes play. 
 
 The foot that bounds o'er the dewy lawn 
 
 In the roseate flush of morning, 
 Gathers a strength for the battle of life 
 
 Which is ever a mute adorning, 
 
 For the rose of health is a thing of joy, 
 Nathless disdains weak strife 
 
 Or pallid folly's scorning. 
 
 We hold too close the vapid rules 
 
 The world's whims bind together, 
 
 The golden rule builds statesmen true. 
 
 As youth bounds o'er the heather, 
 
 Drinking its life-breath, freedom, love. 
 Bursting forever new 
 
 In the study by the grove. 
 
 The sturdy gold of honest worth 
 Grows best, when nature guides it 
 
112 EDITH. 
 
 Through ways untrammelled by the sins 
 Of luxury,' which hides it 
 
 So deep in fashion's ruling lusts 
 That childhood's innocency must 
 Give way, when shod, and ruffled in 
 A mood that ill betides it. 
 
 The reign of a gentle common sense 
 
 Must come with ages nearer. 
 When Albert sat with England's queen, 
 
 Brighter it grew, and clearer. 
 
 While the world looked on, and smiled to note. 
 Through pathways all unseen. 
 
 Its life-food growing dearer. 
 
 We read of life at Balmoral, 
 
 And joyed to see the honor 
 Which nature in her holy truth 
 
 Had royally laid on her ; 
 
 The bright gem in Victoria's crown 
 Was living God's sweet youth 
 
 In the love truth which had won her. 
 
 Oh ! blessed gift of country life. 
 
 Thy purity and pleasure, 
 To seeing eyes, and thinking minds, 
 
 Are not in stinted measure. 
 
EDITH. 
 
 We claim for childhood's hours of gold 
 The fresh, pure thought, by wood, and wold, 
 The scholars' lore for winter's chills, 
 The bare feet by the summer's rills. 
 The loveliness which gladness wills. 
 Unheeding the refrain 
 To mould a model's treasure. 
 
 Rings Edith's musical laughter ; 
 
 The joyous country child. 
 In the freedom born, in life's young morn, 
 
 'Mid the myriad beauties wild 
 
 Which feed her thought, with a purity caught. 
 In lines where God hath worn, 
 
 The path for the unbeguiled. 
 
 Now fording the rush of the waters. 
 
 Hand, in hand, they fearless go. 
 
 Now leaping the light embankment 
 
 Where the mill-race falleth low ; 
 
 Skimming the boat o'er the lakelet's breast ; 
 Scaring the crane from the trout's sly nest; 
 Seeking through childhood's curious eyes, 
 With the happy aptness lent. 
 All unknown things to know. 
 
 113 
 
114 EDITH. 
 
 She stands alone by the water, 
 
 Her playmates far across, 
 With her apron rich in woodland trove, 
 
 Fresh buds, and freshened moss. 
 Shall she stem the force of its rude uproar? 
 
 Can she spring like a sea-bird light. 
 And land on the opposite shore ? 
 
 The twilight drops around her. 
 
 The lights of home are bright. 
 
 The copse-wood which surround her 
 
 Grow dim with closing night ; 
 
 The rabbit leaps from his covert nigh. 
 The squirrel sends down his sharp good-by ; 
 Just glimmers the first faint star. 
 Reproachful upon her sight. 
 
 Irresolute for the moment, 
 
 When calmly on her ear 
 Her mother's voice falls gently. 
 
 And her counsel stilleth fear, — 
 " Commit thy ways unto the Lord, 
 And He will make for thee 
 
 Thy pathway ever clear." 
 
EDITH. 
 
 With a backward step and a sudden joy, 
 And an upward smile, she springeth ; 
 
 The lithe form gains the distant bank, 
 And her light laughter ringeth, — 
 
 *^ Mamma, there was so much to see : 
 The thrush's nest is safe. 
 
 The old fox showed his brush to me, 
 
 And the partridge by the clump of corn 
 
 Of clear, white eggs has three." 
 
 The harvest moons have waned, and gone, 
 
 Their flooded light its work has wrought ; 
 Stacked is the wheat, and groweth the corn. 
 The yellow stubble, so sere, and lorn, 
 A tint of livelier green has caught; 
 From quiet coverts, daintily hid. 
 Comes up the cry of the katydid ; 
 A faint, and delicate tone, not yet 
 Full chorussed is the concert set 
 
 Which charms the later after- math ; 
 The cricket's chirp is heard between : 
 He counteth his measure well, I ween. 
 In regular rhythm, shrill and low. 
 Like the timid touch of a school-boy's bow. 
 The heat of the noonday lingers still 
 On the breeze that flutters adown the hill,. 
 
 "5 
 
Il6 EDITH. 
 
 With the scent of the corn-fields borne away 
 From its generous growth and silken spray ; 
 The cooling rush of the waterfall 
 Suggests a pleasant repose to all, 
 
 As the mill-wheel's whirr drops down its stir, 
 While the night-buds bend in their dewy bath, 
 And the soft night whispers her quiet call. 
 
 The moon has gone, the stars alone 
 
 Look down from the lustrous sky ; 
 The arching dome looms upward from 
 
 The great wide world, so high, 
 Alas ! that it looketh on shame and wrong 
 
 In the night scenes moving by. 
 
 The angel-presence of life, and death 
 
 Moves patiently, and slow : 
 There falleth joy to the lot of some. 
 
 To some the bitter woe ; 
 The healing years alone can tell 
 
 To which the blessings flow. 
 
 God doeth all things well, and yet, 
 
 All seething in his sorrow, 
 Man holds impatient in his hand 
 
 The bud that blooms to-morrow ; 
 
EDITH. 
 
 And joy upholds its glittering farce 
 
 Strength, from earth's strength, to borrow. 
 
 The stars look down, nor mist, nor frown. 
 Bear they to unstained gladness. 
 
 The pure heart drinks their draught with joy, 
 Or with a happy sadness ; 
 
 With what reproach they look on some. 
 
 Whose faith falls prostrate 'neath a gloom 
 Unread by misery's madness ! 
 
 Ah ! pained eyes, that long for eyes 
 
 Whose sweetness meets them never, 
 Shut out, with pain, the flowers below, 
 
 Shut out the bright stars ever ; 
 The years that glide, and bring the years 
 Will build the faith, will dry the tears, 
 While the blessed Christ-hope reappears : 
 
 But the golden bowl is broken. 
 The cistern's wealth wells clear, and nigh, 
 The great Love pitying lingers by. 
 But never the stars look bright again. 
 
 Though the word of grace be spoken, 
 For earth is weighed ; the quivering bar 
 Which holds the holiest gate ajar 
 Reveals where the loved, and lost ones are. 
 
 And the heart accepts the token ; 
 
 117 
 
Ii8 EDITH. 
 
 But never the stars grow bright again, 
 
 Or the song-birds sing with the old refrain, 
 
 Or the sweet earth lulls the weary pain 
 
 Which nestles amid the peace. 
 
 The grand triumphant peace. 
 Which sweeps to the soul from the throne of God, 
 When the staff has burst from the living rod. 
 And the path which the loved, and the loving trod, 
 
 Grows bright with the near release. 
 
 The curtains sway in the night breeze, 
 
 Falling soft, and cool, and white, 
 As she sits in quiet musing, 
 
 'Mid her chamber's shadowy light, 
 All thoughtfully sits Edith, 
 
 Wrapt in dreamings of delight. 
 
 Born to the high endowment 
 
 Of clear, and earnest thought. 
 Which yet, in childhood's plastic powers, 
 
 Is but as an image caught 
 Fresh from an inward impulse thrown. 
 
 Scarce by the thinker sought. 
 
 So weaves she webs of beauty 
 From the fairy-land of dreams. 
 
EDITH. 119 
 
 Tracing the mythical intercourse 
 
 Of what is, and what seems. 
 And closing with a clasp of pearls. 
 
 Where the real through it gleams. 
 
 Oh ! childhood's thought, oh ! childhood's heart, 
 With its instincts true, and tender. 
 
 Moulding the commonest views of life 
 With a rare poetic splendor. 
 
 Building the highest, holiest hopes 
 That hope may ever render. 
 
 How oft, through years mature, and stern, 
 
 The dazzle of your sweetness 
 Comes back to teach the unfilled life 
 
 Its weary incompleteness. 
 While the heart recalls your high designs, 
 
 And mourns your worth, and fleetness. 
 
 She traces the old child-story 
 
 Of "the eyrie, so lone, and gray: 
 The white clouds sat on the eagle's crest, 
 
 And the sun burned down alway. 
 And the eagle looked out for miles, and miles 
 
 O'er the valley of Chamouni. 
 
I20 EDITH. 
 
 '*Up, up the great crags tower'd, and rose, 
 
 The pine's root deep in the ground, 
 And the waters dash, and roll, and splash 
 
 At its base, with a talking sound. 
 Like the wind, when it comes, and breaks, and drops^ 
 
 And its breath just quivers around. 
 
 " And the rocks, — the rocks are as feldspar white, — 
 
 They glitter like gems in the mine ; 
 When the moon looks down, and lights their stars, — 
 
 I wonder if just such a shine 
 Lit up the cave where Sindbad piled 
 His diamonds, and rubies around him wild, 
 
 And his gold, so vast and fine ? 
 
 **I would hear the cry of the hungry brood 
 
 As the eagle left her nest, 
 And spread her great, wide wings to fly. 
 
 With the sun-flame bright on her breast. 
 Away for miles, and miles, to seek 
 
 For the food they loved the best. 
 
 " I would see the hamlet rude, and low 
 
 Which down in the valley lay ; 
 Oh ! the father has gone to mind the sheep. 
 
 And the mother is far away, 
 
EDITH. 121 
 
 And the dear little baby laughs aloud 
 To hear the children play. 
 
 ''So good, and glad, with its bright, blue eyes. 
 
 As it sat, and laughed, and cooed. 
 While the cruel eagle flies on, and on. 
 
 And over it poised, and stood. — 
 Oh, my ! they can do nothing but scream, 
 
 And that will do no good. 
 
 *' I would hear the flap of the eagle's wing, 
 
 And the baby's sorrowful crying, 
 I would think of all its parents' pain. 
 
 To the children's pain replying. 
 While the cruel eagle sweeps on, and on. 
 
 To her eyrie homeward flying. 
 
 " I would launch my boat on the waters dark, — 
 
 I would not be afraid ; 
 * God loveth all who help the weak. 
 
 They shall not be dismayed ;' 
 I would skim my boat to the foot of the crag. 
 
 And fasten it quick in the shade. 
 
 ''And up the cliff I would mount, and climb, 
 I would climb it strong and fleetly, 
 II 
 
122 EDITH. 
 
 I would hold by the roots, and step in the clefts, 
 Where the saxifrage blooms so sweetly. 
 
 Maybe a snake might coil, and squirm ; 
 
 Oh ! the baby's cries would make me firm, — 
 I would be strong completely. 
 
 ** And up, and up the cliff, I would climb, 
 Where it stoops, there I would hide me : 
 
 I could slip my hand so quietly round, 
 I would pray, 'Dear Father, guide me,' 
 
 I would draw the baby closer, close." 
 Here, with a start, turns Edith. 
 
 Goes the imaged out, as the real brings 
 The true thoughts shamed endeavor. 
 
 ''What makes me think such things?" she said ; 
 " I could not do so ever ; 
 
 I never was there. If I saw it all, 
 I could save the baby never." 
 
 She turns to the window, breathing 
 
 The healthful real again j 
 Like a hidden gleam of sunlight 
 
 Falling athwart a dream of pain. 
 Comes the quiet calm of the starlight rest 
 
 On the memories which remain. 
 
EDITH. 
 
 123 
 
 The dippers are bright, and the pole-star's light 
 
 Falls clear on the mariner's course to-night j 
 
 Jupiter drops from the zenith anigh, 
 
 Mars looks down with his fiery eye, 
 
 Orion lies far to the southern zone. 
 
 With the mists of the south-land 'neath him thrown. 
 
 Venus with radiance fills the west. 
 
 But Edith looks out on the hill-bound east ; 
 
 The map of the star-sky many a day 
 
 On Edith's memory thoughtful lay. 
 
 With a loving smile she lingers. 
 
 Gazing far into the sky, 
 An indescribable beauty 
 
 In its holiness seemed to lie, 
 And the pure, warm thought of the sinless child 
 
 Lay soft in the clear brown eye. 
 
 And Edith knelt by the window, 
 
 In the dim light all alone, — 
 She prayed the prayer that Jesus taught : 
 
 She prayed for her loved and own j 
 Then her low, persistent prayer. 
 
 Takes its sad, familiar tone. 
 
 The measureless depth of the spirit grace 
 Filled the child heart's swelling tide. 
 
124 
 
 EDITH. 
 
 As in tremulous strength her faith, and love, 
 With her human sorrow vied, — • 
 
 '' Oh, God ! bless Uncle Alan, 
 And forgive him when he died." 
 
 The sobbing heart of Edith 
 
 Lulls for a moment's space, 
 In her clasped hands, bending lowly, 
 
 She drops her tear-washed face, 
 A moment, and around her 
 
 Unfolds a wondrous grace. 
 
 A light, a conscious presence 
 Mild, and lustrous, fills the air ; 
 
 A voice sounds through her spirit's depths. 
 Distinct, and full, and clear, — 
 
 '' Do not ask it any more. 
 Accepted is thy prayer. ' ' 
 
 Flashed the light, a conscious presence. 
 
 Mild, and lustrous on her sight ; 
 Spoke the voice, her being thrilling, 
 
 Thrilled the words, slow paled the light. 
 All startled, up sprang Edith 
 
 'Mid the loneness of the night, 
 All startled, half a-tremble. 
 
 With its suddenness and might. 
 
EDITH. 125 
 
 " What was it?" murmured Edith, 
 
 Looking inly on the scene, 
 With her parted lips quick breathing ; 
 
 "What did the brightness mean? 
 What spoke the words ? what made the light ? 
 I heard the words, I saw the light. 
 
 What did, what does it mean?" 
 
 A sense of strange amazement 
 
 Lay upon Edith's will, 
 The twilight dimness round her, 
 
 The night-hush sweet, and still, — 
 Through the awe that lay on every nerve 
 
 Joy sent a timid thrill. 
 
 Once more she turns to the star-sky, — 
 
 *' There is no moon to-night j 
 Maybe a shooting-star went by. 
 
 Could I have seen its light ? 
 
 Mine eyes were closed, I saw the light, 
 I heard the words ; with my shut eyes 
 
 I saw, and heard, the light, the words. 
 Did God speak to me?" Oh, ye wise. 
 
 Read the child's mission right. 
 
126 EDITH. 
 
 The years that glide, and bring the years, 
 Are rife with joy, are rife with fears ; 
 Men build in hope; and oft in tears 
 
 The structures built, decay. 
 What matter if through pain, and spoil 
 The gain which marks the end of toil, 
 All purified in its annoil, 
 
 Shall crown the slow-born day ? 
 Life ever wears a golden glint, 
 Fresh, freely poured from Mercy's mint, 
 Would we but see its rainbow tint 
 
 As glide the years away. 
 
 7f yf- 7^ >f. 7^ 
 
 Edith Aubrey grows apace. 
 Fair in form, and fair in face. 
 But fairest of all, in spirit-grace. 
 
 Never a shadow seems to press 
 On her young being's comeliness, 
 To cloud a joy that all confess. 
 
 If aught about her claims the eye, 
 The quick gaze of the passer-by, 
 'Tis her unconscious purity. 
 
 The acquiescence in her dress. 
 
 From the plain Quaker's graver stress. 
 
 Avoids observance, nothing less. 
 
EDITH. 
 
 127 
 
 In all that marks her you may see 
 The loftier simplicity, 
 Which, quietly, and grandly worn, 
 Holds no associates' views in scorn. 
 
 The life she leads hath quiet tone, 
 The scholar's studio open thrown, — 
 The rich abandon knowledge brings 
 In tracing nature's hidden springs, — 
 The gentle home-rule, coloring thought; 
 To its sweet grandliness hath brought 
 The mind-tone, all unseen, unsought. 
 
 And still, with trustful faith, she bends. 
 And breathes her prayer, sincere, and true, 
 
 Unquestioning whither it may tend, 
 Undoubting, if her thought be new ; 
 
 She meets the unseen Love at night, 
 She meets it with the morning dew. 
 
 But never did her heart again 
 
 From that one night, repeat that quest ; 
 Her prayer was answered, all her pain 
 
 Had yielded to a perfect rest. 
 
128 EDITH. 
 
 She questioned not, her life received 
 The sunshine of a joy confest, 
 
 And when she knelt, the unformed words 
 In thanks ascended, — he was blest. 
 
 She never prayed for him again 
 
 Who led her young thought unto prayer : 
 
 Somehow she felt that God smiled down 
 Upon her work, and, rested there. 
 
 Though thoughts of Alan oft returned 
 His mem'ry brought nor pain, nor care. 
 
 And never did Edith's lips unfold 
 Her secret conflict ; it lay hid 
 Deep in the silence of her heart 
 
 For years unspoken, till one day 
 A strong man doubted God's near grace, 
 And as she, wondering, paused a space. 
 All unreservedly it slid 
 
 From her full soul, and nestling lay 
 So eloquent her truth amid, 
 That shame blushed on the doubter's face. 
 
 And he went thoughtfully away. 
 
 THE END.