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T\\Q Kirigdopq Gained 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEAS 
 
 By col. DUDLEY H. DAVIS. 
 
 p. O. : QUIET DELL, 
 Hareison Co., W. Va. 
 
 RICHMOND, VA.: V 
 
 B. F. Johnson Publishing Co., Publishers, 
 1896. 
 
 ^■^1 
 
K 
 
 S" 
 
 f^^;.c* 
 
 Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the 
 year 1.S96, 
 
 By D. H. DAVIS, 
 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress, 
 
 at Washington, T). C. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 \ J HEN the manuscript for my first book of poems was sent to 
 '' ^ the press, my mind was fully made up to write no more. 
 But after the book was published and many of them sold, the solici- 
 tation of friends was so strong to continue to write that I was 
 over-persuaded to do what 1 thought I had rightly decided not to do. 
 
 As I was not educated for a poet, and having spent thirty-two 
 years of the best of my life in the mercantile business, I felt that it 
 would be imposing on a generous public to write and publish another 
 book. 
 
 But having disposed of nearly all of the first edition of a thou- 
 sand books, and hoping that something better may be found in the 
 next, I was led to undertake the great responsibility of coming before 
 the public again with another book. If no one is benefited, then my 
 work is lost. But if this book should please and benefit only a few, 
 I should then feel that the unwritten blank left for me by this world 
 will at least bear some traces of good ; and the highest hopes of your 
 
 friend and servant will have been realized. 
 
 The Authoe. 
 
 [3] 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 Hon. Lotd Lowndes, 
 
 Governor of the State of Maryland : 
 
 My Dear Sir: — We were school -boys together. And while I 
 have lived a quiet home life, you have built your monument tower- 
 ing above the clouds of disputed fame, which will ever stand an 
 honor to your native county and State. 
 
 Please allow me to dedicate this, my second book of poems, to 
 you as a token of admiration for one of our own county and State. 
 I hope you willpermit me, sir, to subscribe myself, 
 Your friend and servant, 
 
 D. H. Davis. 
 
 [5] 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 THE subject of this sketch, Dudley Hughes Davis, was bom 
 March 23, 1834, in Harrison county, Virginia, what is now 
 Dodridge county, West Virginia. His early life was spent ori a 
 farm, and had but little advantage of educational privilege. His 
 grandfather, William Davis, came from New Jersey, and was one of 
 the first settlers of Harrison county. His father, William F. Davis, 
 was a soldier in the war of 1812. At the close of the war he, Wil- 
 liam F. Davis, was married to Miss Rachael Hughes, whose parents 
 came from the South. She was a cousin of "Hickory" Jackson. 
 William F. Davis, after his marriage with Miss Hughes, settled in 
 what is now Dodridge county, then a wilderness, where white man's 
 foot scarcely ever trod before. There they raised a large family of 
 children ; the author of this book of poems was one of the youngest. 
 He left home at the age of twenty-two, and attended school at 
 Clarksburg, at the old West Virginia academy. There he was a 
 classmate with men who are now prominent business men ; among 
 them is Judge Nathan Goff, and Loyd Lowndes, Governor of the State 
 of Maryland. In the year of 1856 he left school and engaged in the 
 mercantile business, near his father's home. In 1858 he was mar- 
 ried to Miss Emily Eickard, his first love. He and his young wife 
 then moved to Quiet Dell, a small village near Clarksburg, West 
 Virginia, where he again engaged successfully in the mercantile busi- 
 ness for thirty-two years, when he closed out his stock of goods and 
 purchased a valuable farm on Elk Creek, between Clarksburg and 
 
 [ 7 ] 
 
8 JBiograjyhical. 
 
 Quiet Dell, and like everything else he undertook, he knew no 
 failure. He soon showed to his neighbors that if he was not an expe- 
 rienced farmer, he was at least a practical one. He was president of 
 the first Board of Education of his district, and helped to put the 
 free school system into operation. In the year 1876 he went into 
 convention with a delegation of 100, and on the first ballot was nom- 
 inated as a candidate for the Legislature, receiving eighty-four votes. 
 But owing to an independent candidate was defeated by forty votes. 
 In the late civil war he was commissioned lieutenant-colonel of his 
 regiment. During all the toil and care of his business-life his mind 
 was at work in the literary field, and he would think and write poetry ; 
 and why, he says, he cannot tell, except that a topic would present 
 itself to his mind, and he could not get rid of it until he would write 
 something on it. He never thought of publishing a book, and it was 
 only through the solicitation of friends that he ever consented to have 
 the first volume of his poems published. On the issue of his first 
 volume he was the recipient of many compliments, among them were 
 the following : 
 
 A friend from Jackson Centre, O. , writes us as follows : ' ' I have 
 just received a copy of Colonel D. H. Davis's Poems, and find it full 
 of rich gems of original thought. The Colonel has a true poetical 
 nature." Written to the Editor of the Telegram, by Rev. J. L. 
 Hoffman. 
 
 Another is from the Baltimore Herald, the paper he used to 
 write poetry for : "This little book has met with favor from New 
 York to California. Judges of the courts, prominent lawyers, clerks 
 of moneyed institutions, prominent literary critics, etc., pronounce 
 the little book a gem. It will live, and as a relic which time will 
 not efface. It has the radiance of a golden sunset, whose hallowed 
 glow will throw its beams athwart the shades of the valley, and the 
 glitter anew on the shore eternal." 
 
biographical. 9 
 
 " The curious will And pleasure in reading his poems, and the 
 cultivated and refined will be entertained by a perusal of this 
 work."— ^. L. T. 
 
 Clarksburg, W. Va., October 8th, 1893. 
 
 Dear Mr. Davis : — I have read with much pleasure your Book 
 of Poems, and admire its originality and style. In fact I am so 
 much pleased with it that I have bought one copy for each of my 
 children, except one son, and want one for him and one for myself. 
 Take the production all in all, it is an honor to you, and an honor to 
 the State. Yours very truly, 
 
 B. Wilson. 
 
 And again under date of January 29th, 1896, Ex-congressman 
 B. Wilson makes use of the following words at the close of his letter : 
 " Your style is good, very good, but it is not the style that makes 
 the book valuable ; it is the originality of the ideas and matter ; the 
 force and beauty of the language by which they are expressed. 
 Having had the book called to my attention by our correspondence 
 yesterday, I re-read most of it last night with very great pleasure, 
 indeed ; realizing new beauties that I did not catch before. It is a 
 series of beautiful productions, chaste, instructive, attractive and 
 elevating." 
 
 ' ' It has been my privilege to read the manuscript of Col. 
 Da.vis's new book, and find it full of high, moral and patriotic senti- 
 ments. I am sure it will be the means of bettering humanity where 
 ever it goes." — Rev. W. L. Burdick, Ph. B., D. B. 
 
COINTENTS. 
 
 Pagk. 
 
 Preface 3 
 
 Dedication 5 
 
 Biographical Sketch of Author 7 
 
 The Kingdom Gained • 17 
 
 Never Change the Flag - 55 
 
 The Battle of Gettysburg 58 
 
 I am Dying 62 
 
 Hicks's Journal ". 63 
 
 The Old Stone Chimney. . . .... ... 64 
 
 Written for the Four Hundredth Anniversary of the Discovery 
 
 of America by Columbus .... 66 
 
 War in the South 69 
 
 What is Religion ? 70 
 
 Wars in 1892 , 71 
 
 Night - 72 
 
 Day 73 
 
 A Messenger of Death 74 
 
 Love 75 
 
 Life and Love 76 
 
 Written on the Four Hundredth Anniversary of the Discovery 
 
 of America by Columbus 78 
 
 A Gate in the Clouds 83 
 
 Dear Lady 84 
 
 Proof that there is a God 85 
 
 The Fox , •. . . 86 
 
 Mirrowed Shadows of Heaven . . 89 
 
 [11] 
 
12 Contents. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Faith 90 
 
 Little Tracks in the River Sand 92 
 
 The Angels 96 
 
 The Lost Damsel 97 
 
 Sails for Life . 99 
 
 Not One, Not One 100 
 
 The Night of Life 101 
 
 From the Cradle to the Grave 102 
 
 Liberty BeU 105 
 
 Wealth 106 
 
 Dream of the Eternal World 107 
 
 AVashmgton's Birthday, February 22, 1732 = .... 108 
 
 Generations of the Dead 110 
 
 Pike's Peak 115 
 
 The Closing Scene 117 
 
 The Silent Messenger = . . . . 120 
 
 Speak no 111 121 
 
 Terrors of a Criminal on Awakening from a Dream 123 
 
 War Eagle 125 
 
 Johnstown Flood 127 
 
 When We Were Boys 129 
 
 A Ramble O'er My Native Hills 132 
 
 Shipwreck ... . . 135 
 
 A Man From the Planet Venus 138 
 
 Thunder 142 
 
 My Long-Forgotten Friend, Lenore - 145 
 
 Consolation 148 
 
 The Store . , 150 
 
 Oh I Shall We Meet on Heaven's Shore 152 
 
 Mount of the Holy Cross 154 
 
 O, Sinner Turn o 156 
 
 Colorado - 158 
 
 The Deer Chase = 160 
 
Contents. 13 
 
 Page. 
 
 Good Seed , . . . 163 
 
 Lazy John . 164 
 
 Christian Soldiers 165 
 
 A Happy Dream 167 
 
 This World's Riches 169 
 
 The Lonesome Chief 170 
 
 Leno Belle 175 
 
 Eclipse of the Sun, August 7, 1869 177 
 
 The Warrior's Forest Home . , 179 
 
 In Heaven We Shall See Them 183 
 
 Autumn Days 184 
 
 Payton's Ride , 186 
 
 The Lonely Window 190 
 
 Dear Bessie of Ohio 195 
 
 Centennial Years 198 
 
 Discovery of Elk Creek 201 
 
 Son Billy o , 203 
 
 Kitty and the Mouse 206 
 
 On Receiving Her Picture 208 
 
 Lamentation 210 
 
 The American Eagle 212 
 
 'Tis My Only Kitty, Mother 215 
 
 Mystery 217 
 
 The Man Who Never Stops to Think 219 
 
 A Lesson 220 
 
 The Bride's Farewell . .... 223 
 
 Mammoth Cave 225 
 
 Uncle Sam 226 
 
 South Carolina's First Ball 228 
 
 The Awakening Soul 229 
 
 Strange, But True 230 
 
 My Own Bronzy Dear 233 
 
 Rosy Hill 235 
 
14 Contents. 
 
 Page. 
 
 To Mrs. J. Hamilton 237 
 
 One Hundred Years Ago 239 
 
 Niagara > . . . 241 
 
 Kiss Her Quicli, You Little Goose 243 
 
 Result of Thought 245 
 
 Scenes of Childhood 249 
 
 The Sunset of Life 259 
 
 Silken Thread 260 
 
 Recruiting for the Lord 261 
 
 Army of the Dragon 263 
 
 A Speech by Colonel D. H. Davis, July 4, 1878 265 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 The Kingdom Gained Feontispiece. 
 
 ^ The Pearly Gates 48 
 
 Mrs. Emily R. Davis . . 144 
 
 ^ Miss Leno Belle ... 174 
 
 ^Mrs. Josie B. Taylor 223 
 
 [15] 
 
THE KINGDOM GAIN EL*. 
 
As I climbed the hill of ages, 
 And finding the shades of life 
 Thickly falling around me, 
 And weary with the toil of many years, 
 I stopped to rest and to consider. 
 I was soon lost 
 In the mysteries of creation, 
 And the realities of Eternity, 
 And I fell asleep, and I dreamed a dream 
 Which was not all a dream. 
 And as the bright far away 
 Mysteriously spread before me, 
 The great mirror of life 
 Spread its silver wings 
 To the golden hills 
 
 Which were sun-tip'd by the love of youth ; 
 I beheld a vast valley ; 
 And it was called the valley of youth ; 
 And in the midst thereof 
 Was a crystal river, 
 And it was called the river of bliss ; 
 And I beheld many towns and cities 
 Spreading away from its shore. 
 And the bloom of youth 
 There, variegating with love and virtue, 
 [ 17 ] 
 
18 The Kingdom Gained, 
 
 Had its brightness and its charms 
 
 Indellibly stamped forever. 
 
 And the happy homes were blest 
 
 By loving eyes and ladies dear ; 
 
 But the most beautiful 
 
 And charming scene of all, 
 
 As a vast crowd stood in a hall, 
 
 And as the bright silken folds 
 
 Of the curtains fell away. 
 
 The fairest angel of earth 
 
 Bobed in her own beauty 
 
 And with grand display 
 
 Appeared in her bridal robe ; 
 
 Beady to mingle her fortune of love 
 
 With the one who stood by her side. 
 
 Thus to join the great procession of life 
 
 Which was then on the march 
 
 Through the cloudless valley of youth. 
 
 And the sunshine of love 
 
 Dispersing the clouds of discord, 
 
 Cast a radiant gleam 
 
 To glitter anew on the shore eternal. 
 
 And the banks of the river of bliss 
 
 Were lined with small boats and canoes ; 
 
 And they had no sails. 
 
 But were driven by the arms of love. 
 
 And two came walking to the shore. 
 
 Buoyant with ho2)e and confidential love. 
 
 And a vast multitude of friends 
 
The Kingdom Gained. 19 
 
 Were gathered together ; 
 
 And they stood beneath the shades 
 
 Of the wide-spreading trees, 
 
 And the parson stood in their midst, 
 
 And while yet as two, they were one. 
 
 And they walked the golden sands 
 
 Of the crystal river shore. 
 
 And they chartered a boat, 
 
 And their boat was lined with rich flowers. 
 
 And filled with gifts of rare beauty. 
 
 And they stepped therein ; 
 
 And on the side of their boat 
 
 In bright golden words it was written : 
 
 "It is not good for man to live alone." 
 
 And their boat had two oars — 
 
 One for the right side and one for the left ; 
 
 And the name of one was love, 
 
 And the name of the other hope. 
 
 When seated they moved from the shore, 
 
 Both lifting then* oars at the same time. 
 
 And smoothly glided away. 
 
 And soon reached the shore of prosperity. 
 
 Where they sold their boat for a price, 
 
 As it had carried them safely across, 
 
 And the bright valley of prosperity, 
 
 In all its grandeur, spread before them. 
 
 And I saw two bright young men, 
 
 Who walked in great haste ; 
 
 And they unlocked their boat, 
 
20 The JKingdoni Gained. 
 
 And on the side it was written : 
 
 "Gold is might." 
 
 And on both oars was written : 
 
 " To the valley of prosperity." 
 
 But both oars were for one side, 
 
 And as they pulled away 
 
 Their boat turned round and round, 
 
 And on the stream, still drifting down, 
 
 To lodge upon their native shore, 
 
 AVith their lop-sided boat 
 
 And two right-handed oars, 
 
 And their courage failed them. 
 
 Then came a beautiful young bride, 
 
 With her brave companion by her side ; 
 
 And their boat was bright and strong, 
 
 Armed with two glittering oars ; 
 
 And they moved out in splendor, 
 
 And they run well for a time. 
 
 But, alas ! they did not pull together. 
 
 And their boat rocked as by a storm ; 
 
 First one way, then the other, 
 
 But still drifting down the stream, 
 
 To lodge upon the island of despair, 
 
 And to live in the cabin of poverty, 
 
 AVith the wolf of hunger at the door, 
 
 The lion of discord in the hall, 
 
 And the thistle of contention in the field, 
 
 And their flocks were shaggy and poor. 
 
 Then came an old man 
 
The KingdoDi Gained. 21 
 
 And a beautiful young girl, 
 
 But tliey did not match ; 
 
 And wlien they sat out, 
 
 Did not pull together, 
 
 And were disgusted with themselves, 
 
 And went back. 
 
 Then I looked away, away, 
 
 And I saw the belle of the town, 
 
 But far away from the shore ; 
 
 And she was charmingly beautiful. 
 
 Courageous and faultless ; 
 
 Too noble of heart and pure of mind 
 
 To accept stained offers. 
 
 And she wrote her banner 
 
 In bright letters of gold, 
 
 And she swung it to the heavens 
 
 And to the bright shore of bliss ; 
 
 Gracefully came tripping along, 
 
 And on her bright banner of gold. 
 
 Written for all to behold. 
 
 And as it floated above her head 
 
 With the bright golden letters, she said : 
 
 "I'll paddle my own canoe." 
 
 And the pride of the young men 
 
 Followed her to the shore 
 
 And would gladly have gone with her ; 
 
 But she feared to trust them. 
 
 And she chartered a long canoe 
 
 With only one seat, and one oar, 
 
22 T^t JZirtgdom trained. 
 
 And pulled awav from the shore. 
 
 Bnt her oar being for one side 
 
 Was minus power the boat to guide : 
 
 And thus, she di-ifted on the sea. 
 
 And in vain applied the useless oar, 
 
 Still drifting on the sea of bliss. 
 
 To land again upon her native shore. 
 
 Then in the streets of the town 
 
 But near the river shore. 
 
 Came a tall handsome man 
 
 TTith his banner in his hand. 
 
 And thus it was written : 
 
 *•! have sought a companion in vain.*' 
 
 And near the shore of the river of bliss, 
 
 He met the beautiful lady 
 
 Who had abandoned her canoe. 
 
 And who was on her return 
 
 To her fiiends, and native home. 
 
 And seeing the gentleman's banner, 
 
 She told him of her sad adventure, 
 
 And that no one could cross alone ; 
 
 And that the term bliss applies 
 
 To no one who seeks it in disguise. 
 
 And thus she said, •• the distant shore 
 
 I> never reached with single oar." 
 
 '• My name is bachelor."" he said. 
 
 My name or looks the ladies dread ; 
 
 Now as you have been on the sea 
 
 I pray thee, sweet maid, accompany me.'' 
 
The Kingdom Gained. 23 
 
 " For name or looks," the lady said, 
 
 " I'm sure, dear sir, I have no dread. 
 
 I'll forsake my banner and canoe, 
 
 And seek one wide enough for two." 
 
 He placed the ring upon her hand, 
 
 And then they left their native land. 
 
 Their boat was light and run with ease. 
 
 And drifted smooth upon the seas ; 
 
 And thus they found that one meant two, 
 
 And boat in place of long canoe. 
 
 Their home was near the gentle sea. 
 
 AVhere the beautiful valley 
 
 Spread its green fringy wings 
 
 To tip the foot-hills of the distant west. 
 
 There the fleecy clouds of eve. 
 
 Sat on their golden pillows ; 
 
 And cast their sun-tipped flash 
 
 O'er the green velvet plains. 
 
 And the towering, gray-walled peaks, 
 
 Which like crowned kings 
 
 Rose from the sweeping skirts 
 
 Of the distant trailing plains, 
 
 And which were bright walled 
 
 By the variegated hills 
 
 Of the fading east. 
 
 And I saw that the valley 
 
 Was blest with a happy people, 
 
 Not too poor to live, 
 
 Nor yet too rich to die, 
 
24 The Kingdom Gained. 
 
 And enjoyed the only true pleasure 
 
 Allotted to fallen man, 
 
 ^\Yliicli, robed in its true form, 
 
 Is religious contentment. 
 
 In fields of green, beyond the plains, 
 
 There shepherds camped by day and night ; 
 
 Their flocks increased, their fields made gains, 
 
 And years were lit by prospects bright. 
 
 And truly 'twas a prosperous vale, 
 
 And from the hills, when nights were long 
 
 And wolves were howling on the trail, 
 
 The shepherds blew their warning song. 
 
 As music from the trumpets fell 
 
 And blended with the distant bell 
 
 "WTiich hung within the tall church spire, 
 
 It fell and blended with the choir. 
 
 And the churches also had their shepherds, 
 
 And they watched their flocks 
 
 By day and by night. 
 
 And they stood upon the watch-tower. 
 
 And they blew their mighty trumpets. 
 
 And the voice of theii* trumpets fell. 
 
 And they scattered the wolves of hell, 
 
 And forced the dragon to his den. 
 
 And cleared the thorny paths of men. 
 
 And the voice of their trumpets fell 
 
 And touched the chords of Heaven's bell, 
 
 Which, blending with the new-born soul, 
 
 Vibrating through the dome of gold. 
 
The iLmgdom Gained. 25 
 
 And earth's co iverts in Heaven swung 
 
 The golden bells, while angels sung 
 
 And spread the news through all the skies, 
 
 Which rose from earth and mortal eyes. 
 
 And a lamb was slain. 
 
 And the shepherd marked his flock 
 
 With the blood of the lamb ; 
 
 And he had a book 
 
 With a golden seal, 
 
 Which was the seal of Heaven, 
 
 And his flocks were enrolled therein. 
 
 Then the dragon again appeared, 
 
 And he also had his flocks, 
 
 And they were marked with a mark. 
 
 But no one knew it but himself ; 
 
 And he sent some of his flock 
 
 To the good shepherd. 
 
 And asked to have their names enrolled. 
 
 And the shepherd knew not 
 
 What manner of men they were, 
 
 And he took their names. 
 
 And the dragon taught them 
 
 By what means to disturb the flock ; 
 
 And great contention arose. 
 
 And they knew not from whence it came ; 
 
 And the dragon's imps set about 
 
 To unveil the hidden fault, 
 
 And many of the shepherd's flock 
 
 Were accused of great fault, 
 
The Kingdom Gained. 
 
 And were sorely tried ; 
 
 And then lie accused others ; 
 
 Then the shepherds brought him 
 
 Before the council. 
 
 And they found that he was 
 
 A wolf in sheep's clothing. 
 
 And the shepherds blew their trumpets 
 
 And the wolf sneaked away to his den. 
 
 Then the dragon appeared on the streets 
 
 In the form of a man, 
 
 And proclaimed to the world 
 
 That the shepherd and his flocks 
 
 Were no better than the wolf, 
 
 Or they would not have had him 
 
 As one of their flock. 
 
 Now the good shepherd 
 
 Called his flock together, 
 
 And they counseled among themselves 
 
 That they had driven the wolf 
 
 From their flock. 
 
 And they all rejoiced 
 
 With exceeding great joy, 
 
 And praised God for their deliverance. 
 
 The scene now became grand 
 
 Beyond all earthly paintings ; 
 
 And I did not wish 
 
 To break the visionary chain 
 
 Which had lengthened out 
 
 Even beyond the stars. 
 
The Kingdom Gained. 27 
 
 And sweeping the vibrating chain 
 
 From the belfry of Heaven 
 
 Even to the sinful earth. 
 
 As the telephone of Heaven, 
 
 To waft the good news away 
 
 To the bright angels of the skies 
 
 And by which the soul of man 
 
 Might feel the vibrations of love 
 
 As it touched the wires of Heaven above. 
 
 These scenes came rushing fast 
 
 Full of brightness and great joy. 
 
 Then the valley of youth disappeared, 
 
 And again my eyes traveled 
 
 By the strange flash of dream, 
 
 And I saw the great valley 
 
 Of the middle age. 
 
 And it had no bounds : 
 
 But as did also the valley of youth. 
 
 Spread away from the silvery sunrise. 
 
 Even to the blushing clouds of sunset. 
 
 And in the midst of the valley 
 
 Was a bold and rushing river. 
 
 And it was called the river of gold ; 
 
 And it was fed by small lakes 
 
 And widespreading inland seas. 
 
 And a vast cataract broke the silence 
 
 Of the deep blue current 
 
 As it hurried down the rapids 
 
 To make its final leap, 
 
28 The Kingdotn Gained. 
 
 From whicli ihere arose 
 
 The sound of muffled thunder, 
 
 And rainbow spray ; 
 
 And which fell like silvery dewdrops 
 
 On the white foaming billows 
 
 Which rose and swiftly hurried away. 
 
 And as the vast river 
 
 Spread its blue arms aw^ay 
 
 By the lakes and the seas, 
 
 It held within its grasp. 
 
 All manner of ships : 
 
 Life-boats, war cruisers. 
 
 And pirate vessels. 
 
 And millions crowded their decks, 
 
 For it was called the river of gold ; 
 
 And there came many 
 
 From the happy valley of youth. 
 
 Even forsaking friends and homes. 
 
 Risking life, forsaking liberty, 
 
 Defying heat, facing cold, 
 
 For the drifting sands of gold ; 
 
 And millions rushed upon the shore, 
 
 Forsaking happy homes of ease, 
 
 For the golden pebbles of the seas ; 
 
 Life was bartered, Heaven scorned, 
 
 Hell defied, honor sold, 
 
 For inventions to sweep 
 
 The glittering sands of gold. 
 
 And men gained vast millions ; 
 
The Klngcloi}h Gained. 29 
 
 Nor did they stop upon the shore — 
 
 Nay, millions called for millions more ; 
 
 And spires of cities rose 
 
 Like clustering forest pine 
 
 Stripped of their towering green robes ; 
 
 And the hum of spindles, 
 
 And the roar of steam. 
 
 And the clatter of cars, 
 
 And the buzz of saws, 
 
 And the rush of millions on the street. 
 
 Brought millions to the millions feet ; 
 
 Yet brought not happiness nor ease, 
 
 But sent more ships upon the seas 
 
 To face the storm and risk the fall 
 
 AVhich plunged beneath the cataract wall, 
 
 From whence no ship has e'er returned . 
 
 No pleasure, then, upon the sea ; 
 
 No pleasure, then, within the town ; 
 
 The sons of wealth were never free. 
 
 But with the yoke of gold were bound ; 
 
 Nor did they stop to loose the weight, 
 
 As crushing mints returned in gold ; 
 
 But higher rose the flooding gate. 
 
 And adding speed to every mould. 
 
 And I saw that much wealth was a failure. 
 
 And that those who sought pleasure 
 
 In that direction, 
 
 Were only heaping coals of fire 
 
 Upon their own heads. 
 
30 The Kingdom Gained. 
 
 And the chain of the dragon was loosed, 
 
 And he "went as a roarino- hon 
 
 And spent much of his time 
 
 In trying to deceive the rich man 
 
 As to the amount of his wealth 
 
 And the worth of his soul. 
 
 And the churches went begging for bread, 
 
 While saloons were overflowing 
 
 AYith gold and wickedness. 
 
 Tall church spires rose to the skies, 
 
 But only as a monument 
 
 For Heaven, in mockery. 
 
 And the golden calf stood on the street, 
 
 And millions worshiped at its feet ; 
 
 And the dragon set his mark 
 
 On many, very many ; 
 
 Yet the true shepherds 
 
 Were faithful to their flocks. 
 
 And fought the wolves of the dragon 
 
 With the voice of their loud trumpets, 
 
 And set the seal upon all 
 
 Who would hear their voice. 
 
 But when gold and religion 
 
 Were placed in the balance, 
 
 Eeligion was found wanting. 
 
 So with all the grandeur 
 
 Of the beautiful city : 
 
 The dragon was king, 
 
 And worshiped by a vast 
 
The Kingdom Gained 31 
 
 Majority of the people. 
 
 And I was greatly troubled, 
 
 And wished myself back 
 
 To the happy valley of youth. 
 
 Then my eyes took wings and flew away, 
 
 And I saw the rich valley of old age ; 
 
 And it was only the rich fringe 
 
 Of the valley of youth, 
 
 And the valley of the middle age. 
 
 And in the midst of the valley, 
 
 Gently swept a beautiful river. 
 
 And it was called the river of care ; 
 
 And on its beautiful shores, 
 
 Vast cities dotted the valley, 
 
 And glittering spires rose to the clouds, 
 
 And golden chandeliers 
 
 Lit the bright walls. 
 
 Of the churches and halls. 
 
 And all classes of people. 
 
 And all ages there dwelt. 
 
 And those who worshiped God 
 
 Were happy and content. 
 
 But from the great valley 
 
 Of the rich middle age 
 
 There came great ships, 
 
 Burthened with millions of gold. 
 
 All seeking safety 
 
 In the valley of old age, 
 
 And were sailing the river of care ; 
 
32 The Kingdom Gained. 
 
 But pirates were on the sea, 
 
 And robbers were on the shores. 
 
 And at the homes of millionaires, 
 
 Beggars stood at the door ; 
 
 And while their vast ships 
 
 Countless millions bore, 
 
 They feared to land upon the shore — 
 
 They feared to sail upon the sea. 
 
 And so the mighty chain of gold 
 
 Enslaved the men who once were free. 
 
 Slaves ■? Yes, cruel slaves ; 
 
 Not slaves to a tyrant, or a king, 
 
 But slaves to the gold they bring 
 
 To imprison them 
 
 AVithin their steel-lined vaults ; 
 
 To sip the bitter cup 
 
 Flowing from the river of care, 
 
 And eat the bread of constant dread. 
 
 And I saw that great wealth 
 
 Was also great slavery. 
 
 And that the happy days, 
 
 AVere in the valley of youth. 
 
 Where the wealth of love 
 
 Was greater wealth 
 
 Than the wealth of millions. 
 
 And very many old people lived 
 
 In this paradise of earth ; 
 
 And churches lined with gold 
 
 Told the story of the city. 
 
The Kingdom Gained. 33 
 
 And while their milhons of gold 
 Enslaved many of the people, 
 Yet thousands more of the people 
 Obeyed the shepherd's call, 
 And had the stain of sin cancelled, 
 And had their robes cleansed 
 By the blood of the Lamb, 
 And had their names written 
 In the Book of Life, 
 And they bore the seal of heaven. 
 On the banks of the river of care, 
 A man of great age 
 Sat in the door of his vault. 
 And he wore the cloak of religion ; 
 But it hung loose about him, 
 And did not seem to fit. 
 And he seemed restless and uneasy, 
 And a doctor passed that way 
 And he tarried with the old man. 
 And he talked with him quite a time. 
 And the doctor told him 
 That he must soon leave 
 The great city of care, 
 And find some other world. 
 And the old man became sad, 
 And very greatly alarmed ; 
 And he sent for a shepherd, 
 And he told the shepherd 
 That he had worn the cloak 
 3 
 
34 The Kingdotn Gained. 
 
 Of religion, even from 
 
 The distant valley of youth, 
 
 And all the way through 
 
 The many years in the 
 
 Prosperous valley of the middle age. 
 
 And that under the cloak of religion, 
 
 That he had been enabled 
 
 To gain very many millions; 
 
 But after coming to the 
 
 Religious valley of old age. 
 
 He had found that the cloak 
 
 Of religion did not fit him. 
 
 And therefore would be 
 
 Useless to him any further ; 
 
 And that he had no seal nor pass 
 
 To the kingdom. 
 
 And he told the good shepherd 
 
 That he had vast millions 
 
 Of gold in his vault, 
 
 And that he would give it all to him 
 
 For a ticket to Heaven. 
 
 But the good shepherd told him 
 
 That all the gold in the world 
 
 "Would not buy one ticket to Heaven ; 
 
 But that he could get a ticket. 
 
 Without money and without price. 
 
 But the old man told him 
 
 That it was now too late, 
 
 That he must soon go ; 
 
The Kingdoin Gained. 35 
 
 And had not time to get a ticket, 
 
 Unless he could buy one. 
 
 The good shepherd told him 
 
 That there was none for sale, 
 
 And reluctantly bid him good bye. 
 
 And then the dragon appeared 
 
 In the form of a moralist ; 
 
 And with his smooth, silvery tongue, 
 
 He told the old man 
 
 That his course through life 
 
 Was all the pass he needed for Heaven ; 
 
 That he had been honest and upright. 
 
 That he had employed the poor, 
 
 And that he had fed the hungry ; 
 
 And gave liberally to the church. 
 
 Sent missionaries abroad. 
 
 And had lived peaceably with all men ; 
 
 And for all these good deeds, 
 
 And upright life, he should be 
 
 E-ichly rewarded in Heaven. 
 
 And the old man became reconciled, 
 
 And j)iit on his cloak of religion 
 
 Again, and went his way. 
 
 Then the good shepherds of the city 
 
 Stood ujDon their watch towers. 
 
 And blew their mighty trumpets ; 
 
 And the people of the city 
 
 Turned their eyes that way, 
 
 And thousands obeyed their call. 
 
36 The Kingdom Gained. 
 
 And had their names written 
 
 In the book bearing the golden seal, 
 
 And great joy prevailed in all the city, 
 
 And men of great wealth 
 
 Divided their gold with the churches. 
 
 And the shepherds flock grew to great numbers, 
 
 And the dragon became alarmed. 
 
 And he clothed his wolves in sheep's clothing, 
 
 And sent them among the shepherd s flock. 
 
 And even had their names enrolled 
 
 As they did in the valley of youth. 
 
 And some of them changed 
 
 The color of their wool. 
 
 And became as black sheep. 
 
 That the church might drive them out, 
 
 So that the dragon might accuse 
 
 The whole flock by them. 
 
 Others set a bad example 
 
 Before the bright 3'oung men. 
 
 By leading them away 
 
 To the saloons and card rooms ; 
 
 And argued that no harm 
 
 Could come from one glass. 
 
 Or a civil game. 
 
 But one glass led to another, 
 
 As did also one game lead to 
 
 Another game, and another glass ; 
 
 Then the wolves accused them. 
 
 And the churches drove them all away. 
 
!the Kingdoyn Gained. 37 
 
 ^hen tlie dragon proclaimed 
 
 Through the mouths of Universalists^ 
 
 That all men should be saved, 
 
 And that men of the churches 
 
 Were no better than other men. 
 
 So the higher the shepherds 
 
 Built the walls of the churches, 
 
 The higher the dragon 
 
 Built the fire against them. 
 
 But when the church was silent, 
 
 The dragon was also silent, 
 
 Hoping that the fire of the church 
 
 Might die out by not being stirred. 
 
 Then came two men, to the shepherd, 
 
 Who wore the wrinkles of many years. 
 
 And one of them said to the shepherd, 
 
 "What shall we do to be saved"?" 
 
 And the shepherd said, 
 
 " Seek thy sins to be forgiven." 
 
 Then one of the men said, 
 
 * In the bright valley of youth, 
 
 I set out for the kingdom, 
 
 And for my journey. 
 
 I took the road of morality. 
 
 As I thought that was the true way. 
 
 I have followed it strictly. 
 
 With a bright hope of at last 
 
 Gaining the kingdom. 
 
 Most of the way I have traveled alone. 
 
38 The Kingdom Gained. 
 
 On my way I overtook this nian, 
 
 Who said lie was on his way 
 
 To the Kingdom of Heaven. 
 
 And we traveled a distance 
 
 On the same road. 
 
 But we at length came 
 
 To another road, 
 
 And it was called Universalism. 
 
 And we there enquired 
 
 The way to the kingdom. 
 
 And the gate-keeper told us, 
 
 Either road would lead us there, 
 
 But the road of universalism 
 
 Was the shortest and surest way ; 
 
 "For," said he, "it matters not what you do 
 
 You will get there by this way." 
 
 And I saw that my companion 
 
 Was not disposed to be strictly moral ; 
 
 And after a long debate 
 
 With the gate-keeper. 
 
 He left me and went that way. 
 
 And again I made my journey alone. 
 
 And on the way I met a man, 
 
 And again I enquired the way. 
 
 And he told me that I was wrong, 
 
 And that my road would lead 
 
 Me down to endless perdition. 
 
 Then doubts arose and I was troubled. 
 
 Then I stopj)ed by the wayside, 
 
The Kingdom Gained. 39 
 
 And enquired again, 
 
 And tlie man at the gate 
 
 Assured me that I was safe, 
 
 So I went my way. 
 
 And behold I came to one asleep, 
 
 And when I stirred him, 
 
 I found he was my companion 
 
 Who had gone the other road. 
 
 And he told me that way 
 
 Led to the dragon's den. 
 
 And that the road morality 
 
 Ended at the same port. 
 
 And I believed it was true. 
 
 And we knew not where to go, 
 
 But hearing of the good people. 
 
 And of the good shepherds, 
 
 In the happy city of old age, 
 
 We set out together again. 
 
 And now we come to thee 
 
 AVith our lamps well nigh 
 
 Destitute of oil. 
 
 But while the wick of life 
 
 Still remains may we not have hope? 
 
 Yes, said the good Shepherd, 
 
 God bless you, hope is on your side ; 
 
 You have been led away, 
 
 But the way to the kingdom 
 
 Is very plain and delightful ; 
 
 Your lamps must now 
 
40 The Kingdom Gained^. 
 
 Be filled with the oil of grace, 
 
 And your hearts filled with 
 
 The love of God, 
 
 And become new creatures 
 
 In Christ, who died to save sinners, 
 
 And you shall inherit eternal life. 
 
 And you shall be of my flock, 
 
 And go with us to the kingdom. 
 
 And they fell at his feet. 
 
 And prayed for mercy. 
 
 And the telephone wires of Heaven 
 
 Were again touched by 
 
 Their simple and earnest prayer. 
 
 And the answer of peace 
 
 Was felt in their souls. 
 
 And they were marked 
 
 By the blood of the Lamb. 
 
 And their names were written. 
 
 And they were sealed for the kingdom. 
 
 And great joy j^revailed. 
 
 It now seemed that this was all a dream. 
 
 Yet I believe it to be true. 
 
 But as the wealth of this world 
 
 Was not what it seemed to be, 
 
 I was troubled, and tried to break 
 
 The deep slumber of my dream. 
 
 Just then, in a strange tone, 
 
 The voice of a fairy said, 
 
 " Not yet, not yet ; 
 
The Kingdom Gained. 41 
 
 Thine eyes hath not seen, 
 
 Nor hast thou conceived 
 
 Of what yet lieth before thee." 
 
 Then the fairy took me away 
 
 To a towering sun-capped peak, 
 
 Even above the golden clouds 
 
 Which swept around its rugged walls. 
 
 And the fairy gave me a seat, 
 
 And it was gilded 
 
 With the rich gloss of sunshine, 
 
 And all around was very bright. 
 
 But as the bright, fleecy 
 
 Clouds swept away, 
 
 The sun closed its glittering wings. 
 
 And drop'd down into 
 
 The golden sea of the fading west. 
 
 Then the bright rays of the silvery morn, 
 
 And the starry chandelier of the heavens. 
 
 Drove the mist and darkness away. 
 
 Which had hung o'er the valley below me. 
 
 And lo ! it was very bright. 
 
 And another valley then appeared, 
 
 And it was called the valley of death. 
 
 And in the midst thereof 
 
 AYas a strange and beautiful river. 
 
 And it was called the river of Jordan ; 
 
 And its waters were as white as frost ; 
 
 And its sands as the sands of a desert, 
 
 And no life appeared in all the vale ; 
 
42 The Kingdom Gained. 
 
 Then great fear came upon me, 
 
 And I prayed the fairy to take me away. 
 
 Then I looked as through a telescope, 
 
 And I beheld the three great valleys 
 
 Through which I had travelled. 
 
 And I saw that the life of man 
 
 Was but an inch of time ; 
 
 One inch only allotted him 
 
 To make preparations 
 
 For the world eternal. 
 
 Then the voice of the fairy said, 
 
 " The young hum-bird oils its wings, 
 
 Grows strong, and flies away. 
 
 But the one that stains its wings 
 
 From the sticky pool of tar 
 
 Will never, never fly. 
 
 The man who oils the wings of his soul 
 
 With grace of the living God, 
 
 Will grow strong in faith. 
 
 And when he sinks 
 
 Beneath the sea of death, 
 
 Will rise again with golden wings, 
 
 And, in the clouds, will fly away. 
 
 But the man who stains 
 
 The wings of his soul 
 
 With the tar of the world. 
 
 Shall rise from the sea of death 
 
 Robed in the pitch as full for the flame." 
 
 The fairy hung this painting 
 
The Kingdom Gained. 43 
 
 Before me and went away. 
 
 And I did not understand its words, 
 
 But became more reconciled ; 
 
 And again turned 
 
 To the strange valley before me ; 
 
 And while as yet no life appeared, 
 
 I beheld many paths, and roads, 
 
 All leading to the river of ^'Jordan" ; 
 
 And I saw no boats thereon. 
 
 And no paths leading from its shore ; 
 
 And no turning point appeared, 
 
 While beyond the further shore, — 
 
 It was bright-walled, by 
 
 The eternal hills of the kingdom. 
 
 And I then saw that I stood 
 
 Between life and death. 
 
 And again great fear came upon me. 
 
 And I knew not how to go hence ; 
 
 And I turned and looked back, 
 
 And I beheld a vast world of people, 
 
 And they all seemed to be drifting that way ; 
 
 Not because they would, 
 
 But by the strong chords of nature, 
 
 And which bound each one fast ; 
 
 And which coiled around 
 
 The great windlass of time, 
 
 And which could not for a moment check; 
 
 And all classes, rich and poor. 
 
 And all ages, moved in that direction. 
 
4:4 The. Kingdom Gained. 
 
 And I saw a man of great age, 
 
 And lie led on far before ; 
 
 And behold ! it was the old man 
 
 Who had left the valley of youth 
 
 By the road morality, 
 
 And who I had seen fall 
 
 At the Shepherd's feet 
 
 In the city of old age. 
 
 And then a lady appeared 
 
 In another path, but close by, 
 
 And she was from the rich valley 
 
 Of the middle age. 
 
 She was gracefully tall. 
 
 And very beautiful. 
 
 And wore a crimson silk. 
 
 And now they both neared 
 
 The great river of Jordan, 
 
 And I shuddered with fear ; 
 
 And they both walked upon the sea ; 
 
 And as they went began to sink 
 
 And fell away beneath the surface. 
 
 And again I trembled with fear. 
 
 But lo ! they burst from the other shore 
 
 With brightness to dazzle the sun ; 
 
 Both robed in gold, and angei wings. 
 
 And each a trumpet in their hands. 
 
 And a chariot cloud swept about their feet, 
 
 And they rode thereon. 
 
 And on the sides of the chariot, 
 
The Kingdoiri Gained. 45 
 
 In letters of flaming gold, 
 
 It was written: 
 
 "The Kingdom Gained." 
 
 i^The above line gave this book its title.) 
 And their chariot wheels 
 Rolled on the golden clouds of Heaven, 
 And as they swept away 
 The cloud, which hung before them, 
 Vanished before their brightness. 
 And then the bright walls 
 Of the Heavenly Kingdom appeared. 
 And as the two angels blew their trumpets 
 The great pearly gate 
 Swung on its golden hinges, 
 And two angels appeared at the gate 
 AVith two crowns and two harps, 
 And they met the chariot cloud. 
 And they bade the two angels come in ; 
 And they placed the crowns upon their heads 
 And the harp in their hands, 
 And left their trumpets outside the gate. 
 Then a voice, as by a trumpet, said : 
 "Well done, thou good and faithful servants, 
 Enter thou into the joys of thy Lord." 
 And a new song was sung ; 
 And the dome of the heavens rang 
 With glad tidings and great joy. 
 And the pearly gate swung to. 
 And the clouds of the heavens 
 
46 The Kingdom Gained. 
 
 Again hung o'er the city walls. 
 
 Now, after all this grandeur 
 
 And great glory, I then understood 
 
 The painting of the fairy. 
 
 Then I looked away in the valley 
 
 And I saw a beautiful lady 
 
 From the valley of old age ! 
 
 And a step behind a small girl 
 
 From the valley of youth : 
 
 And as they went said not a word. 
 
 In another path came a man 
 
 From the banks of the river of care. 
 
 And he walked with a gold-head cane. 
 
 And had the cloak of religion 
 
 Thrown about him ; 
 
 And behold it was the old man 
 
 AVhom I had seen on the bank 
 
 Of the river of care ; 
 
 AVho sat in the door of his vault, 
 
 And talked with the doctor, 
 
 And who was persuaded 
 
 By the agent of the dragon, 
 
 And who again took for his pass 
 
 His cloak of religion. 
 
 And they all three sat foot on the sea, 
 
 About the same time. 
 
 But as they went fell away. 
 
 But quick as sunlight flash 
 
 They rose from the watery tomb, 
 
The Kingdom Gained. 47 
 
 The lady and beautiful girl, 
 
 With robes of righteousness, 
 
 Angel wings, and trumpets ; 
 
 And the little girl had grown tall, 
 
 And wore a robe and had wings, 
 
 As did also the lad}^ 
 
 Then the chariot cloud 
 
 Swept them away, 
 
 And the vales of the heavens 
 
 Folded away before them ; 
 
 And I watched them no further. 
 
 For the old man had also appeared, 
 
 And he was greatly changed, 
 
 But had no robe nor trumpet. 
 
 He watched the two angels. 
 
 And started that way ; 
 
 But the golden cloud on which 
 
 The chariot wheels had rolled 
 
 Melted away before him. 
 
 And he turned away and came back. 
 
 And lo ! he bore the marks of the dragon. 
 
 Which was a photograph of the 
 
 Dragon, on his forehead. 
 
 And he seemed to be sorely 
 
 And distressedly disappointed; 
 
 But at last turned away 
 
 And passed down the silent stream, 
 
 And was lost in the darkness 
 
 Of a dismal cloud, 
 
48 The Kingdom Gained. 
 
 ^Vhicli spread away from the shore. 
 
 And then, as I looked again, 
 
 I saw a beautiful girl 
 
 From the yalley of vouth. 
 
 Representing the morning of life ; 
 
 But as she neared the river shore 
 
 I saw her rosy cheeks 
 
 Had began to fade. 
 
 And her steps became slow, 
 
 As though weary and faint. 
 
 And she stojDped not for the Jordan, 
 
 But passed on its bosom 
 
 And was lost as beneath it ; 
 
 But with dazzling brightness 
 
 Burst from the other shore, 
 
 And was swept away in the golden cloud, — 
 
 And as the shrill voice of her trumpet rang 
 
 The veil of the heavens swung back 
 
 And the pearly gate stood ajar; 
 
 Then appeared the two angels, as before, 
 
 With their harp and their crown. 
 
 And then appeared another angel, 
 
 And he clasped her in his arms ; 
 
 And behold it was the old man 
 
 TThom I had first seen lead the way ; 
 
 And she called him father. 
 
 And in all her brightness and glory 
 
 She was not more beautifid than he ; 
 
 And they passed beyond the gate. 
 
THE PEARLY GATES. 
 
The Kingdom Gained. 49 
 
 I saw the crystal fountain 
 Which flows from the throne of God, 
 As it lifts its golden spray 
 In heavenly clouds, 
 To fall like dew drops 
 On the never-withering bloom of Heaven, 
 Which shall live forever and ever. 
 And as I looked again. 
 There was great commotion 
 Among all the people ; 
 And many were in the paths, 
 And many more on the roads. 
 Neither did any turn away, 
 But many reached the shore ; 
 Even man}^ at the same time. 
 Many of whom flew away 
 In the bright golden chariot. 
 But woe be unto those who did not! 
 For I then saw the great dragon 
 Burst from the frosty white sea. 
 And he walked upon the water, 
 And he had seven heads, 
 And also seven horns : 
 And his horns were as shining brass. 
 And heads as the heads of serpents ; 
 And his eyes were as flaming fire. 
 And his dress as the scales of fish ; 
 But they glittered like shining metal, 
 And the water of the sea 
 4 
 
50 The KnKjdorii Gained. 
 
 Stood not on tliem. 
 
 And as lie went lie roared like a lion ; 
 
 And liis voice was tliat of distant tliunder, 
 
 And flashes of lightning- stood about him, 
 
 And those who had rose from the sea 
 
 AYithout trumpets and robes, 
 
 Turned them away, 
 
 As they feared to look upon him. 
 
 And as he turned to go hence, 
 
 On his back it was written with fire, 
 
 " Follow thou me : 
 
 For thou would' st love darkness rather than light 
 
 Because thy deeds are eviL" 
 
 And his course lay down the stream, 
 
 And as he went man}^ followed. 
 
 And then the great lane of hell apj)eared, 
 
 And on the finger-board it was written, 
 
 ''Broad is the road." 
 
 And I saw it was hedged in 
 
 By rough towering walls on either side ; 
 
 And at the further end was a gateway, 
 
 But there was no gate, 
 
 And on the black, charred arch above. 
 
 In sooty flames, appeared these words : 
 
 " Eoom for all." 
 
 And I shuddered to look again, 
 
 And strove to break the slumber of my dream ; 
 
 But as I fell away again 
 
 I saw a rich man, who came 
 
The Kingdom Gained. 51 
 
 As though no fear fell across his mind. 
 
 And also came a beggar, 
 
 Who had begged at his door. 
 
 And they both rose with golden robes, 
 
 And trumpets alike in their hands. 
 
 And the poor man became as rich 
 
 And as bright as the rich man, 
 
 And on the chariot cloud stood equalized, 
 
 As up they rose to the world in the skies. 
 
 Nay was his millions of the land 
 
 AVorth robe or trumpet in his hand % 
 
 Their chariot cloud, ten thousand fold 
 
 More valued than a world of gold. 
 
 Their chariot rolled on wheels of fire, 
 
 Ascending fast, ascending higher ; 
 
 And sweeping to the golden gate. 
 
 Where crowns of glory for them wait. 
 
 My cup of joy was running o'er. 
 
 For brighter grew the heavenly shore ; 
 
 And, as the myriads soared the skies, 
 
 'Twas then too much for dreaming eyes ; 
 
 I then stepped down from out my dream, 
 
 And long, to me, long did it seem. 
 
 I'm sure 'twas long, but not in vain, 
 
 Should courage rise the crown to gain. 
 
 Or should it cause one sinner turn 
 
 This side the gate, where soot flames burn. 
 
 Or should it cause the sparks to rise 
 
 Which light the journey to the skies, 
 
52 The Kingdom Gained. 
 
 And stamps this j)aiiiting on the mind, 
 
 To live for Heaven and things divine. 
 
 Could all my life be in the song, 
 
 I'm sure 'twould then be none too long. 
 
 This painting, drawn with brush of dream. 
 
 Brings me new thoughts of Jordan's stream; 
 
 For as we sink beneath its sting 
 
 We rise with harp and angel wing. 
 
 Or to the endless pit of hell, 
 
 "VThere spirits dam'd shall ever dwell. 
 
 And by this painting I now see 
 
 New glories of eternity 
 
 Half hidden by that golden cloud 
 
 "VMiich o'er the walls of Heaven bow'd 
 
 Oh, yes, I see beyond the gate, 
 
 T^Tiere angels stand and gladly wait 
 
 To welcome, with a harp and crown. 
 
 And swell the millions circling 'round. 
 
 And now I see the golden hill 
 
 And valleys wide and widening still, 
 
 "With drifting clouds of golden spray, 
 
 Time sweeping through eternal day. 
 
 While silvery mist-like dew-di'ops fall 
 
 Mingled with love, and love for all. 
 
 Now, as this was not all a dream. 
 
 But lost in the eternal theme, 
 
 I'll hang the painting on the wall, 
 
 Lest some might stumble and thus fall, 
 
 To rise upon the other shore ; 
 
The Kmgdom Gained. 53 
 
 As cast away to rise no more. 
 This painting shall grow brighter still, 
 To all who live and do God's will ; 
 And when we step upon the sea 
 'Twill then reflect eternity, 
 With all the golden chandeliers, 
 And angel eyes with loving tears. 
 And all our friends upon the shore, 
 Who from our homes have gone before. 
 And as they sweep the golden strand 
 They'll welcome all with angel hand. 
 And through the bright eternal day 
 Sweep through the clouds of golden spray. 
 Now, as my dream and song is done, 
 I pray thee learn it, every one. 
 That we may rise from out the sea, 
 Gold-robed, for vast eternity. 
 
 On chariot clouds of gold we'll rise 
 
 To that bright world above. 
 To meet the angels of the skies 
 
 And sing redeeming love. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 My kingdom home, the angels' home, 
 My home high up in Heaven. 
 
 And as the myriads rise to sing 
 
 In clouds of golden spray. 
 The kingdom bells shall sweetly ring 
 
 Through Time's unfading day. 
 
54 The Kingdom Gained. 
 
 The Son of God shall be the Hght 
 Of that bright world on high, 
 
 To fade the stars and banish night. 
 And flood the cfolden skv. 
 
 There angels sweep through golden spray 
 And glittering clonds of Heaven, 
 
 Where chariots roU through endless day 
 And kingdom floats are driTen. 
 
Never Ohaiuje the Flay. 55 
 
 Presented to my brother, Mr. Joel H. Davis, and Charlotte his wife. J 
 
 Never change ttie flag — never, never ; 
 It v^'as shap'd to live forever ; 
 Who could imagine, who could tell 
 The effect of its funeral knell % 
 Every sacred tie would be lost, 
 The nation would forget its cost, 
 "Washington would be forsaken, 
 The foundation would be shaken. 
 
 That blood-stained banner of the wars 
 AYhich victory crown'd with thirteen stars, 
 AVould fall as ruins o'er the grave, 
 AVhere din of war laid heroes brave, 
 With all the art that's left in man, 
 In this grand age of skillful hand. 
 No change of flag will ever do 
 For lovers of the starry blue. 
 
 Rivers of blood from fathers brave 
 Have covered the hills our flag to save \ 
 Who, with our American pride, 
 Could change the flag for which they died ? 
 
56 Kever Change the Plag. 
 
 No true American ever will 
 Forsake the flag of Bunker Hill, 
 Trenton, Yorktown and New Orleans, 
 Lafayette, Gates and General Green. 
 
 We'll never, never, never die 
 
 While the same flag waves 'neath the sky. 
 
 Webster, Jackson, and Henry Clay, 
 
 Adams, and all of ancient day. 
 
 Loved that bright flag which made them free, 
 
 And shed the light of liberty. 
 
 Your " Pansy," for a national flower 
 
 Cultured would live a lovely bower. 
 
 But all the pansies in creation 
 
 Could be no honor to the nation. 
 
 Our flag is worth ten thousand fold 
 
 Its length and breadth in sheets of gold. 
 
 But with a change, and honors lost, 
 
 Its wealth would drop from gold to dross. 
 
 With its fall all honors fall. 
 
 Strange flags would float o'er Federal Hall. 
 
 A conquered nation we should be 
 Minus the flag of liberty ; 
 High in the clouds the Goddess stands, 
 With light of freedom in her hands. 
 The flag of all the olden wars. 
 The same flag now with many stars 
 Still hangs before her faithful eye. 
 Fame towering to a cloudless sky. 
 
Kever Change the Flag. 
 
 No other flag, no other name 
 
 Could claim its battles and its fame. 
 
 So may it live as it begun, 
 
 To feed on stars one by one, 
 
 Until our Jupiter shall rise 
 
 To shine amid the national skies 
 
 From north to south, o'er land and sea. 
 
 To light the globe with liberty. 
 
 6? 
 
58 llie Battle of Gettysburg. 
 
 %\iz ^attXe 0t O5ettiijsbttV0. 
 
 [Presented to my brother-in-law, Mr. Zane Underwood, and my 
 sister Elizabeth, his wife.] 
 
 Out from the ports and rifle-pits, 
 
 Down from the rnde-biiilt mountain wall, 
 Down from the camp the Gray boys get, 
 
 AYhile the stars look down and the moonbeams fall, 
 And on they sweep, like a cloud of war. 
 
 Tipping the skirts of the widespread plain ; 
 A rumbling sound, with footstep jar, 
 
 As guides move on the death war-train. 
 
 Down the vale of the Mother State, 
 
 With armies ninety thousand strong, 
 And led by Lee, the skilled and great, 
 
 With martial tramp and drill and song. 
 Down they sweep, like a wall of steel, 
 
 With victory stamped on every face. 
 And army drill that knows no yield 
 
 When stamped in fiery Southern race. 
 
 On they sweep, o'er the rock-bed stream, 
 Through town and o'er the mountains tall. 
 
 With no foreboding in their di'eam 
 That this grand force should ever fall. 
 
The Battle of Gettysburg. 59 
 
 To Gettysburg they set their course, 
 
 And when they reached that ill-fate town 
 
 They found Meade's hundred thousand force 
 Were moving on the highland ground. 
 
 Lee moved far up the sloping hill 
 
 One hundred and fifty large guns, 
 To open fire when morn was still 
 
 And night lit up by rising sun, 
 Meade also watch'd for early morn, 
 
 And planted guns on well-formed ground. 
 The cyclone rose, and thunder warned. 
 
 And iron hail came pouring down, 
 
 Earth trembled 'neath the mighty jar. 
 
 The atmosphere roll'd to and fro ; 
 The clouds were rent by din of war. 
 
 The village rock'd beneath her foe. 
 Showering lead and muttering thunder, 
 
 And hiding clouds of smoke arose, 
 Then Lee's full force came sweeping under, 
 
 And closer drew the mighty foes. 
 
 Meade's army stood like walls of fire. 
 
 And from its flame death's thunder roll'd; 
 The clouds of smoke rose thick and higher, 
 
 AYhile missFd lead poured from the mould. 
 Lee's army moved, three columns deep, 
 
 Beneath that withering flame of death. 
 The wiers bid the world to weep 
 
 Ten thousand tears for every breath. 
 
60 The Battle of G-ettyshurg. 
 
 And lo ! the mighty columns waved 
 
 Four miles, and ninety thousand strong, 
 TTith all their skill and hearts so brave, 
 
 Their sun had set, their day was gone. 
 Tet formed their lines and marched away 
 
 With all their pride and Southern skill; 
 The starry Blue had crown' d the day, 
 
 And Meade was champion of the hill. 
 
 But as the mighty war-train swung 
 
 They tun'd their horns, and thus they sung ; 
 
 " I wish I was in Dixie ! Away ! away! 
 
 In Dixie's land we'll make our stand. 
 
 To live and die for Dixie's land ! 
 
 Away, away I Away down South in Dixie ! " 
 
 Meade's army to the heaven's swung 
 One hundred flags, and thus they sung: 
 " Bright starry Blue, shield of the brave, 
 O'er freedom's land shall ever wave ! 
 Let armies fall, by din of war. 
 But spare it not one single star ! " 
 
 That blood-stained banner, symbol red. 
 Shall float o'er graves of fathers dead, 
 Who yet as slaves brought king to wars, 
 AMiile heaven look'd down on thirteen stars. 
 
 It's led our nation safe through wars, 
 Still adding many brilliant stars. 
 
The Battle of Gettysburg. 61 
 
 The Union as it was begun, 
 
 We can't divide nor yet spare one. 
 
 O'er North and South it soon shall wave, 
 Home of the free, home of the brave ; 
 Sons, Blue and Gray, shall close the war, 
 Flag minus not one single star. 
 
 And it was so ; so may it stand 
 AVhile freedom's banner shields the land ; 
 Tears for the Blue, tears for the Gray, 
 Who gave their lives on that great day. 
 
62 I am Dying. 
 
 a am 515X1X0. 
 
 [Lines written at the death of the poet's daughter, Lura, and em- 
 braciug her dying words.] 
 
 I am dying, mother, dying ; 
 
 The repelHng tide of Hfe has passed ; 
 Clouds of life, adrift and flying, 
 
 Unveil the brio-ht'ninof sunset fast. 
 
 "O 
 
 The gates beyond life's sunset swing, 
 I almost hear the angels sing; 
 I'm waiting now for them to come 
 And bear me to my Heavenly Home, 
 
 There shall I be as white as snow. 
 
 And dread no more life's chilling blasts 
 
 I'm waiting now, waiting to go ; 
 The angels" train is coming fast. 
 
Sicks'' Journal. 63 
 
 I read Hicks' Word and Works Journal, 
 He dwells amid the planet stars, 
 
 But seeks the bright world eternal. 
 Still far beyond the brilliant Mars. 
 
 So in the silent shades of dream 
 
 My soul is wafted to the skies 
 To feast on grandeur of his theme, 
 
 While round we sail and upward rise. 
 
 When lost from earth by tint of skies. 
 
 To hang amid the starry blue. 
 On fairy wings to fairy eyes, 
 
 The radiant worlds swift roll to view. 
 
 Transparent sweeps the comet trains. 
 The motive power a globe of fire ; 
 
 Trackless they sweep thro' Heaven's domain. 
 Dividing space and drifting higher. 
 
 They glide from cities of the sky ; 
 
 The passengers have golden wings. 
 Their train around the planets fly. 
 
 The star-bells of the heavens ring. 
 
 The blending tone of all the stars 
 
 Bids them God's speed from bell to bell ; 
 
 From Jupiter they sweep by Mars 
 
 To bright ring'd Saturn, where they dwell. 
 
64 The Old Stone Chimney. 
 
 ^Ixje 0)XxX Jit0nc OTltitunjeig. 
 
 We glanced around its wood-cliarred wall, 
 
 Moss-grown, time-worn, and crumbling down ; 
 With hearthstone deejD and fire-cracks small, 
 
 And fragments gray all scattered 'round. 
 The pick of time marked the jam-stone 
 
 Year seventeen hundred and ninety-two, 
 When forest wilds were fully grown. 
 
 And woodsmen numbered very few. 
 
 Silent and ghostly stands the wall, 
 
 Death's wing had snapp'd life's tender thread ; 
 Crumbling ruins. Ah, that was all 
 
 To tell the story of the dead. 
 The jam that formed the cricket's cell, 
 
 The lug-pole Avhere the trammel swung. 
 The moss-grown walls that formed the well. 
 
 In sad deserted fragments hung. 
 
 A soldier and wife — that was all — 
 
 Both strangers in a forest land ; 
 No kindred friend list to their call. 
 
 No kindsman grasped the dying hand. 
 Beneath a walnut tree, well grown. 
 
 Moss-gray and rustic, 'neath its shade 
 In solemn token stands a stone. 
 
 And there the soldier's dust was laid. 
 
The Old Stone Chimney. 65 
 
 Eude and time-worn it stands alone ; 
 
 Green sods spread o'er the hero's grave ; 
 No sculptor's chisel marks the stone 
 
 That stands in honor of the brave. 
 From Revolutionary wars 
 
 This hero through the forest came ; 
 Came when the flag of thirteen stars 
 
 Had scarcely won a national name. 
 
 While now he sleeps beneath the sod 
 
 His flag o'er sixty millions wave ; 
 And sixty millions thank their God 
 
 For heroes in the silent grave. 
 Then shall his dust sleep there unknown 
 
 While his fame on national clouds should ride ? 
 Should not a monumental stone 
 
 There represent the nation" s pride? 
 
66 Anniversary of the Discovery. 
 
 [Written for the Four Hundredth Anniversary of the Discovery of 
 America by Columbus, October 21, 1892.] 
 
 A hero bold, 
 
 From lands of old, 
 Far away from his native land. 
 
 O'er the ocean green. 
 
 Which man had not seen, 
 Stood firm with an unwavering hand. 
 
 Last hope of land 
 
 Forsook his band, 
 And a rebellion seem'd to rise ; 
 
 But he urged them on 
 
 To the coming dawn — 
 To the sun-blending land and skies, 
 
 Then a land breeze 
 
 Come o'er the seas, 
 And the sun from out the forest crept ; 
 
 At tip of morn 
 
 A new world was born. 
 And his crew fell at his feet and wept. 
 
 A light soft breeze 
 From out the trees 
 Had kissed the face of the flowers, 
 
Aimiversary of the Discovery. 67 
 
 And bore rich perfume 
 To a sea-sick home 
 As new Hfe in a dying hour. 
 
 Then outline dim 
 
 On the western rim, 
 Blending land with the silvery skies, 
 
 More distinctly grew, 
 
 And the joyous crew 
 Tearfully gazed with longing eyes. 
 
 Columbus stood, 
 
 Profound in mood, 
 As he gazed on his promised land ; 
 
 Then, with flag unfurled, 
 
 Placed it on a world 
 Ocean-hid from civilized man. 
 
 Columbus found 
 
 The globe was round, 
 One-half hing'd on his forest shore ; 
 
 As the new dawn broke 
 
 The learned sage 'woke, 
 And bewildering clouds fell no more. 
 
 My eyes to-day 
 
 Swim far away 
 To that primeval forest shore 
 
 Where his boat touch'd land. 
 
 And the Eed Man's hand 
 Show'd friendship at the wigwam door. 
 
68 - Anniversary of the Discovery. 
 
 Where clustering trees 
 
 Spread to the seas, 
 North, south, east, west, valleys and plains. 
 
 And rivers unstained 
 
 Through the forest train' d, 
 Silvery and clear as the rains. 
 
 Four hundred years — 
 
 Strange it appears — 
 Sixty-five milHon souls to-day. 
 
 Sixty-five millions ; 
 
 Wealth, sixty-five billions, 
 And king of nations in display I 
 
iVar i)i the South. 69 
 
 'WL^x in tixe %oni\i. 
 
 The cloud of slavery ending in storm, 
 
 Like cyclone sweeping from shore to shore, 
 
 Came rushing void of justice or form, 
 
 With earthquake shock and the battle's roar. 
 
 The bright, waving field of golden grain 
 By murderous soldiery were trodden down. 
 
 Temples of justice in ashes lain, 
 
 And flames rose from the ill-fated town. 
 
 The sharp scythe of war had mown its swarth, 
 Wealth of slavery a thing of the past ; 
 
 The once solid wealth now seem'd but froth, 
 And destruction's card seem'd to be cast. 
 
 But the fog of war soon cleared away, 
 
 And the South rose with ^her pride and skill. 
 
 As seen to-day with a grand display 
 
 Of its schools and towns, factories and mills. 
 
 Proudly may her ambition now rise, 
 
 To equal the North, the East, or the West, 
 
 And glory in her bright, sunny skies — • 
 Land of the flowers, land of the blest. 
 
70 W/iat is HeligionP 
 
 WLUkI is gljeXi^torrc? 
 
 Religion is the sunshine of Heaven ; 
 
 It illuminates the dark side of the soul, 
 
 It melts the drifting ice of sin and folly, 
 
 And sheds true light through bewildered eyes ; 
 
 It is the golden key 
 
 That unlocks the pearly gate 
 
 Of the Heavenly Kingdom ; 
 
 It is the robe of righteousness, 
 
 The golden wings of angels, 
 
 And a title to a crown in Heaven. 
 
Mars in 1892. 71 
 
 ^av5 in 1892. 
 
 On sweeps the scintillating stars; 
 Adown descends the brilliant Mars, 
 Sweeps nearer earth in radiant style, 
 One hundred and six million miles ; 
 
 Yet thirty five million miles away, 
 Will charm the eye with grand display, 
 Reposing in refulgent beams. 
 Out rivaling all descriptive dreams. 
 
 This distant visitor appears, 
 As tempted, once in fifteen years. 
 To visit earth through southern skies, 
 To feast the scientific eyes. 
 
 A thousand telescopic eyes 
 Will pierce the deep ethereal skies 
 To fathom her in golden robe, 
 While visiting this mighty globe. 
 
72 Myht. 
 
 Night is the ghost of the world ; 
 It boldly walks around the globe ; 
 Flees from the eyes of the sun ; 
 But at times it lifts its ghostly shades 
 To dim the brightness of the moon, 
 And walks amid the stars. 
 
Uay. 73 
 
 Day is the life of the world; 
 
 Commanded by the king of planets, 
 
 It puts the stars to flight ; 
 
 It fades the brightness of the moon 
 
 And seals the planets in the skies ; 
 
 The tear-like dewdrops of the night 
 
 Vanish from the face of the flowers, 
 
 And, as they unfold in grandeur, 
 
 Like the envious queen of a nation. 
 
 Would they gladly rob 
 
 The great king of the day 
 
 Of all his brightness and glory? 
 
 Coquettish, they kiss the bright sunbeams 
 
 And paint their cheeks with its gold. 
 
74 A Messenger of Death. 
 
 ^ '^z&B^UQCx of geatlx. 
 
 He rode a gaily snow-white steed ; 
 
 Sister clung to my arm and said: 
 "Oh! who is that with such great speed?" 
 
 When, quick as flash, they both had fled ; 
 
 The sun was bright, 'twas then at noon; 
 
 We stood beside our cottage door ; 
 The flash was clear, but ah ! too soon 
 
 For our duU eyes the scene was o'er ; 
 
 By roadside stood a building small ; 
 
 We saw them on the other side ; 
 One bound from his great steed, so tall, 
 
 Would span the distance in his ride. 
 
 We thought the great white steed had fell ; 
 
 One rod brought us within full view ; 
 The road was clear, and then the spell 
 
 Gave vent to all that fright could do. 
 
 Tremblinp- and speechless we there stood, 
 
 My sister clinging to my arm, 
 \\Tien far away a horseman rode 
 
 As one who rode to give alarm. 
 
 Soon rounding to our old loved home, 
 With trembling voice the rider said : 
 
 "With sad, sad news to-day I come; 
 Your friend Alexander is dead." 
 
Love, * 76 
 
 Love hides itself within the heart ; 
 
 Unconsciously the eye reveals ; 
 And like the shaft with missil'd dart, 
 
 Cupid within the prison steals. 
 
 He fears no law ; he has no key ; 
 
 He snaps the hinges from the door ; 
 The prison set the inmate free, 
 
 Confirms what she believed before. 
 
 The smothered flame bursts from its cell, 
 Uniting with flame in return ; 
 
 What both believed they now know well ; 
 Fuel to flame, so it must burn. 
 
 •') 
 
 Loud word from the watch tower fall; 
 
 The fire-bell gives the alarm ; 
 The eye speaks louder yet than all. 
 
 And rivets its words with a charm. 
 
76 * Life and Love. 
 
 What is life % Oh ! what is life % 
 
 It is only a little blaze, dimly burning, 
 
 And liable to be blown out 
 
 In a moment at any time. 
 
 What is love? Oh ! what is love ? 
 
 It is that foretaste of Heaven 
 
 Which lives within the soul of man 
 
 As the golden link in the chain 
 
 Of relationship and wedlock 
 
 And without which human beings 
 
 Could only live to hate each other, 
 
 Despise God and all of His creation. 
 
 Love is the golden thread 
 
 Which winds on the celestial spool 
 
 In the heavenly kingdom, 
 
 Ever winding and ever drawing 
 
 The converted soul 
 
 Nearer to God and its final rest. 
 
 While the gall of nature, 
 
 By the blinding influence of Satan, 
 
 Bebels and ]3ulls away ; 
 
 The thread of love is snapped, 
 
 And the soul may be forever lost. 
 
 The blaze of love becomes full 
 
Life and Love. 77 
 
 To feed the bitterness of hatred— 
 
 Not only to hate self, 
 
 But to hate God and Heaven 
 
 And all of God's creation ; 
 
 And as the bright star of hope 
 
 Sinks beneath the golden 
 
 Clouds of the heavenly skies, 
 
 Darkness and gloom overshadows, 
 
 And love may be forever done — 
 
 And that is hell enough. 
 
 The golden thread of love 
 
 Is the telephone by which 
 
 God's power is communicated 
 
 To the never-dying soul ; 
 
 Daily its vibrations are felt, 
 
 And the soul feeds on bread eternal, 
 
 And drinks the wine of heavenly bliss ; 
 
 Lifting the soul above 
 
 The dark clouds of sorrow. 
 
 Even to catch a glimpse 
 
 Of the sunlight of Heaven. 
 
 The sun that shines 
 
 To set and shine again 
 
 Only lights a life of pain ; 
 
 The sun that shines to ever shine 
 
 Lights a world and life divine — 
 
 God's love is the light. 
 
 Heaven glitters with its brightness, 
 
 And the bright angels drink 
 
 Of its fountain eternal. 
 
78 Discovery of America. 
 
 [Written the Four Hundredth Anniversary of the Discoverr of 
 America by Columbus, October 21, 1892.] 
 
 The American eye 
 
 Should look from a happy face 
 
 As the dark shades 
 
 Of the past ages sweep before it. 
 
 Reverse the beam of time ; 
 
 Go back foiu' hundred years ; 
 
 Take one glimpse 
 
 Of this vast continent 
 
 As Columbus found it 
 
 With the shy Eed man, 
 
 TTho, v^ith noiseless step, 
 
 Down to the seashore crept, 
 
 While a blood-chilling yell 
 
 'Mid the dense forest fell 
 
 From a wild and savage race ; 
 
 But the smiling face 
 
 Of the unknown race, 
 
 And their wondi'ous ship 
 
 From the unknown world, 
 
 With its mighty wings 
 
 Flapping the winds of the ocean, 
 
 Bore with it a charm. 
 
 And the strangers were welcomed to land. 
 
Discovery of America. 79 
 
 The densely-drooping forest, 
 
 Now swept from sea to sea, 
 
 AYitli the Fall carpet spread 
 
 As the hand of nature wove it 
 
 Of gold and crimson leaves, 
 
 AYith the silvery brooks 
 
 Creeping through a forest of gold ; 
 
 And the wild woodland flowers, 
 
 Kiss'd by the frost of Autumn, 
 
 Fading and di'opping 
 
 Their beauty and rich perfume ; 
 
 The sweet and charming song 
 
 Of the richly-plumed forest birds ; 
 
 And the high-towering eagle king, 
 
 With his throne high on the hoary ledge, 
 
 Caird forth admiration 
 
 And love of the forest. 
 
 The hideous scream of the panther, 
 
 The howl of daring wolf, 
 
 The dull tramp of the buffalo. 
 
 The surly growl of the bear. 
 
 And the grand herds of elk and deer 
 
 Charmed the eye and filled the heart 
 
 With love for a forest life. 
 
 Even with picture before us 
 
 We have only a faint glimpse 
 
 Of four hundred years ago. 
 
 But like mountain brooks 
 
 Sweeping forest leaves to the seas, 
 
80 Discovery of America. 
 
 So the white man's ax 
 
 Has swept the forest trees ; 
 
 And like a tornado of fire 
 
 In a drifting snowstorm, 
 
 The forests have melted 
 
 By the white man's torch; 
 
 So lands of the wigwam, 
 
 Once the home of the Eed man, 
 
 To-day lift their glittering spires 
 
 To the clouds of the heavens ; 
 
 "While the rich fringe of wealth. 
 
 Like a kingly palace of old. 
 
 Adorns the cities with silver and gold ; 
 
 Like a new created heaven 
 
 Happy homes are smiling 
 
 With Christian love and intelligence ; 
 
 Eailroads checker the land ; 
 
 Churches and school-houses 
 
 Dot the plains and the valleys ; 
 
 The wondrous tongue of wire 
 
 Speaks to loved ones far away ; 
 
 The nation's mighty cable 
 
 Holds communion with our mother 
 
 Across the briny deep ; 
 
 The Pacific and Atlantic 
 
 Shake hands by rail ; 
 
 The towering gods and snow-capped peaks 
 
 Of the Eocky Mountains 
 
 Look east and west, north and south, 
 
Discovery of America. 81 
 
 O'er waving fields of grain, 
 
 Bailroads, towns, and cities, 
 
 While the white man's pick. 
 
 With untiring stroke, 
 
 Seek silver and gold 
 
 At their treasured feet. 
 
 While the Red man of the forest. 
 
 Still wrapped in his heathen robe, 
 
 Tattered in furs and buckskin fringe. 
 
 Sullenly hunkers around 
 
 His dull and smoky wigwam fire; 
 
 Wrapped in his buffalo robe 
 
 On his scanty mat of furs. 
 
 He slumbers and groans 
 
 Only to dream of the sad. 
 
 History of his fallen race ; 
 
 At the hour of the awakening sun 
 
 He rises to behold 
 
 The wondrous tide of the white man. 
 
 Like a storm-driven cloud. 
 
 Sweeping o'er his nearest plain ; 
 
 He foams and drifts before it ; 
 
 He pursues his westward flight 
 
 Only to behold 
 
 The glittering snow-capped peaks 
 
 And the towering gods 
 
 Of the brook-worn gorge 
 
 Majestically rising before him; 
 
 In his maniac rage 
 
82 Discovery of America. 
 
 He again turns to the plains, 
 
 But the tide of the white man sweeps on, 
 
 ^Tiich he numbers 
 
 By the sands of the sea : 
 
 His last buffalo has been slain 
 
 By the death-pealing thunders 
 
 Of the white man's gun ; 
 
 "With anger painted in his eye, 
 
 And a bronze-like surly face. 
 
 He mounts the iron horse ; 
 
 He sweeps through the plains of the West 
 
 And the charming hills of the East 
 
 Only to cui'se the day of our glory, 
 
 "WTiile the Goddess of Liberty 
 
 Lifts her mighty arm 
 
 To the clouds of the heavens 
 
 With eyerlasting flame 
 
 Streaming from her finger tips, 
 
 Emblematic of freedom, 
 
 AS a light to the world, 
 
 And which proclaims 
 
 Li tones of thunder 
 
 That Columbus land 
 
 Shall ever be 
 
 A home for the Red man 
 
 And a home for the free. 
 
A Gate in the Clouds. 83 
 
 ^ Oiate itx tlxc (blonds. 
 
 [Dedicated to Rev. W. L. Burdick, Ph. B., D. B.] 
 
 The parting day pass'd through liquid gold 
 As the soft twilight grew rosy and bright, 
 
 "When a scene too grand for earth to hold 
 Trail'd slowly before the coming night. 
 
 Cloud-built walls, like gods of the mountains. 
 
 With silvery cliffs and golden edge. 
 Rose in the sky as though a fountain 
 
 On every side supported a ledge. 
 
 A gate 'mid the walls now gently swings. 
 While shimmering rays, like burnished gold, 
 
 Shoots forth and tipping a thousand wings 
 Of the fleecy trains as up they roll. 
 
 A misty fringe o'er the gateway hung, 
 Eadiantly tipped and of grand display, 
 
 As through a gate in its beauty swung 
 As the pas sway for the parting day. 
 
 Dark wings of night o'erspread the sky ; 
 
 A solemn stillness filled the land 
 As though day lived only to 'die 
 
 And cling to the gate with a parting hand. 
 
84 Dear Lady. 
 
 Dear lady, power to thee was given, 
 And by ttiat power we are driven 
 To love thee much, or as thou will, 
 But one who loves must love thee still. 
 
 That magic power of thine alone 
 To thee, perhaps, may be unknown ; 
 But thou hast the key and the chain. 
 The seal once stamped must e'er remain. 
 
 Could'st thou but know thy magic power, 
 As charms impress in fatal hour. 
 Thou would' st at least a sinner be 
 To scorn the sympathy for thee. 
 
Proof that there is a God. 85 
 
 gv00f tlxat i\izxz is a O^^d. 
 
 The sun ablaze forever burns, 
 The globe rolls 'round it and returns, 
 The moon sweeps 'round this earthly ball 
 To prove that God is Lord of all. 
 
 The chandeliering stars, ten million strong, 
 Too deep in space to paint in song. 
 Gleam brightly and forever shine 
 To prove the wondrous hand divine. 
 
86 The J^'ox. 
 
 5 he i-Oi'. 
 
 As the fox devoureth 
 So shall he be devoured. 
 
 A red-leaf bush bent o'er the ledge 
 
 On vrhich two pheasants went to roost ; 
 The ice was deep, and near its edge 
 
 A fox came hunting for a goose ; 
 He saw the pheasants in the bush, 
 
 When down he sat upon the ice : 
 "Come down,"' said he. '-and what you wish 
 
 From out my basket shall be nice."' 
 
 "No,'' said the birds up in the tree, 
 
 "We fear that you are hungry too. 
 And while we feast on grapes from thee 
 
 We shall no lonorer number two." 
 "No,"' said the fox, '-I will be true, 
 
 And all my supper shall be nice. 
 And you shall also number two 
 
 When you shall wish to leave the ice." 
 
 " To prove me true come down just one, 
 I swear you shall take no alarm ; 
 
 My meal is ready and well done, 
 
 Those whom I love I could not harm."' 
 
The Fox. 87 
 
 Then cuts were drawn up in the tree, 
 For doubts they had of fox's thirst, 
 
 And neither one just then felt free, 
 To test the stranger's honor first. 
 
 Then swiftly came the proud king bird ; 
 
 This meal was blessed with grapes and wine; 
 The fox then smiled but never stirred, 
 
 But pass'd the grape long from the vine. 
 The bird's fear fled, when in a glee 
 
 He nestled to the fox's side ; 
 And glancing upward in the tree 
 
 He fearless showed his kingly pride. 
 
 And then he fell into a doze ; 
 
 The fox had never changed his seat ; 
 The ice had melted and then froze ; 
 
 The bird he pick'd and quickly eat. 
 Now, says the fox, "for this my sin 
 
 I must tear loose and then away. 
 The morning light will soon begin. 
 
 And then will come the glare of day. 
 
 " I know the hounds are far away ; 
 
 The wolf and cur I do not fear ; 
 But test my sins by light of day 
 
 Is more than I can ever bear." 
 The deed is done, the fox is fast, 
 
 The rosy sun looks o'er the hills. 
 The woodsman sweeps down like a blast 
 
 And with his club the fox he kills. 
 
88 
 
 The Fox. 
 
 So by the fox of this fast age 
 
 Proudest sons are misled for gain, 
 Shackled as slaves on freedom's stage, 
 
 Powerless to sever the chain. 
 The hungry fox still leads him on, 
 
 Secreting his ill-gotten gain, 
 And fearing truth when day shall dawn, 
 
 That temples of justice shall reign. 
 
Mirrored Shadov)s of Heaven. 89 
 
 As I stood upon a mountain peak 
 
 I beheld a grandly-painted cloud 
 
 Moving from the golden sunset ; 
 
 And as the dying embers of the day 
 
 Cast a lingering ray 
 
 As though loth to exchange 
 
 Its golden hue for the dark 
 
 Silken shades of the night, 
 
 The moon and stars half lit up 
 
 Grew dim and went out. 
 
 With brightness to dazzle the sun, 
 
 The bright golden cloud moved on ; 
 
 The green fringy hills 
 
 And the low-trailing valleys 
 
 Become variegated and bloomed 
 
 With its bright golden hues ; 
 
 The face of the earth was kissed 
 
 By the lips of its grandeur ; 
 
 And as its arms of beauty 
 
 Embraced the gods of nature. 
 
 The towering peaks stood 
 
 Like crown' d kings envious of grandeur 
 
 That they could not possess nor control ; 
 
 Yet stealing its golden edge 
 
 And smiling at the glory 
 
 That painted their crimson ledge. 
 
90 Faith, 
 
 [Presented to my daughter Minnie, who copied the manuscript for 
 
 this boolc] 
 
 We stood upon the mountain ledge 
 
 Of moss-grown walls that tower'd high ; 
 
 She placed her foot upon the edge 
 And glanced with confidential eye. 
 
 " Please hold my hand,'' she softly said, 
 Then o'er the towering wall she hung, 
 
 No seeming fear nor slightest dread, 
 As to my slender arm she swung. 
 
 Then, as her life hung on my arm, 
 
 I whispered gently to her ear, 
 "Should 1 let go, oh! what alarm 
 
 Would chill your home and mother dear." 
 
 A glance from her bright loving eyes 
 Told more than words can ever tell ; 
 
 She shrunk not back, but glanc'd the skies 
 With voice clear as a silver bell. 
 
 ♦The subject of this sketch was the charming Miss Josie Randolph, of 
 Plainfield, N. J. We stood upon the brink of the towering cliff one huux 
 dred feet high. 
 
Faith. 91 
 
 She looked again down o'er tlae wall 
 
 Then in her gentle tone she said, 
 " I'm sure you will not let me fall, 
 
 And so, dear sir, I have no dread." 
 
 I stood upon the ledge of hell, 
 
 With sinful eyes looked o'er the wall ; 
 
 I saw the pit where Devils dwell, 
 
 And shuddered least I there should fall. 
 
 I prayed to Christ : " Hold thou my hand, 
 
 Saviour ; do not let me fall ; 
 Thine is the power, as now I stand, 
 
 To stay my life, my soul, my all." 
 
 The wings of Heaven, with golden light. 
 Sun-tipped my soul with love and joy, 
 
 And changing scenes of visions bright 
 Swept heavenly bliss without alloy. 
 
 Golden spray from the heavens fell. 
 
 Mingled with love and joy divine; 
 Vibrant chords from the kingdom bell 
 
 Divinely whispered, " Thou art mine." 
 
 My life hangs by a slender thread, 
 
 1 look down o'er a slippery wall, 
 I have no fear, I have no dread, 
 
 My Saviour will not let me fall. 
 
92 Little Tracks in the River Sand. 
 
 glttXe graces xtt tixe %ix^zx Jarcd. 
 
 'Twas in the dark days of bloodshed and gloom, 
 
 AVhen the night-owl mocked the war-whoop and yell, 
 And flames at the stake but pictured the doom 
 
 Of a blood stained race in the pits of hell. 
 Horrors too deep for the name of crime, 
 
 And sorrows too deep for the wailing tear ; 
 But sweeping wrath on the wings of time, 
 
 With that revenge in store that conquers fear. 
 
 Oft they came, prowling like wolves at night, 
 
 Wrapped in furs, wolf-hide robes, and buffalo horn, 
 War-paint face, red-eyed demons of fright, 
 
 Stealing a march at early flash of morn. 
 Chief a horned beast in form of man. 
 
 With imps of the devil trailing his heels, 
 Sweeping life like the drifting sands 
 
 Are blown from the plains and the sun-dried fields. 
 
 But wrath o'erruled, and the tide swept on 
 
 Adown, down the beautiful woodland vale. 
 Where glimpes of the sun at early dawn 
 
 Crept through the forest like a dingy trail. 
 There the white man's axe, with muffled sound, 
 
 Awoke the wild herds on the forest hill ; 
 And the wolf and panther sneaked around 
 
 In the dead of night with a vicious wilL 
 
Little Tracks i)i the River Sand. 93 
 
 But they reared their camp in the forest deep, 
 
 And near by the wall their sentinel stood ; 
 He knew no night, he knew no sleep, 
 
 But stood as the shades of the forest wood. 
 And he knew the smell that spoke of harm, 
 
 And no deaf ear to tramp or a sound. 
 By a signal note he raised alarm, 
 
 Which the sleepers read from their camping-ground. 
 
 Awake, but still as the camp-fire blaze, 
 
 Till the red-eyed beasts lit their eyes by the flame. 
 As they stood in the dark with a gaze 
 
 Half charmed, half bewildered, amazed, and tamed. 
 Then a sweeping blaze, and a deathly roar ; 
 
 Then all was still, the flashing eyes gone out, 
 And the panther's gaze was seen no more 
 
 As he fled from the gun and deathly scout. 
 
 Then cabins were built from forest trees, 
 
 And the gray walls lined with emerald moss ; 
 And they had no foolish pride to please, 
 
 For the hearts of all were minus dross. 
 Then the old cock blew his daybreak horn. 
 
 And he clapped his wings for the fading night. 
 And the woodsman rose with the early morn 
 
 With a happy face and prospects bright. 
 
 And all content in their rural home, 
 
 With the centre star a lovely mother. 
 And they had no foolish hearts to roam, 
 
 Yet love untold loved they one another. 
 
94 Little Tracks in the River Sand. 
 
 Sweet, rosy girls, witli bright golden hair ; 
 
 Children bright-eyed, loved, and fondly embraced; 
 Young mothers loving, and angel fair ; 
 
 And fathers true, of a brave, sturdy race. 
 
 Peace prevailed in their rude forest home. 
 
 As music rose from the rumbling river ; 
 And bh'ds of the trees the forest roamed 
 
 In golden plume and gloss-dress feather. 
 But, alas ! the great alarm bell swung 
 
 And the bravest hearts felt a deathly chill, 
 And little ones to their mothers clung, 
 
 As signals rose from a distant hill. 
 
 Hark ! hark ! they come like red fiends of hell, 
 
 Prowling around the rustic cabin door, 
 AYith hideous voice and chilling yell 
 
 As wrath from the bloody demons roar. 
 AMth battering ram burst puncheon door. 
 
 Slay the strong, bind the weak with twigs and thongs, 
 AYhile their garments wipe blood from the floor 
 
 And theii' sobs are mocked by a hissing song, 
 
 Then to the stake others, bound with chain. 
 
 Stand with streaming eyes, gaze upon the dead, 
 AYhile torch flames shoot streaks of pain 
 
 And burnt eyes burst from a living head. 
 Then away, away through the forest deep. 
 
 With the lovely maid with bright golden hair, 
 And little children too sad to weep 
 
 While hurried away from a home so dear. 
 
Little Tracks in the River Sand. 95 
 
 The happy homes were left scenes of blood, 
 
 Mangled corpse and black, charred bones at the stake. 
 Then the wrath of men rose like a flood, 
 
 As they hurried on trail to overtake. 
 Through a primeval forest, unknown. 
 
 They hurried o'er hill and through the dark vale. 
 Camp-grounds were found but the demons gone, 
 
 And nothing left but the red devil's trail. 
 
 And lo ! they reached a mighty river 
 
 With golden sands and glittering pebble shore. 
 The two great forest lands to sever, 
 
 While its swift and bold rushing waters pour. 
 But the fiends of death had crossed the flood, 
 
 With boys and girls, torn from their native land, 
 And all that was left was stains of blood 
 
 And the little tracks in the river sand. 
 
96 The Angels. 
 
 %\XZ ^UQZlS, 
 
 [Presented to Mrs. W. L. Burdick.] 
 T^^'E : "The Chaeiot." 
 
 We are sailing life's sea; 
 
 Soon we'll reach. Heaven's shore, 
 TMiere the angels shall be, 
 
 And the God they adore, 
 And the bright clouds of gold 
 
 Bear the wings of the soul. 
 Chokus. — The angels on golden wings 
 
 Shall sweep through the clouds. 
 
 There the chariots shall roll 
 AYith the brightness of fire, 
 
 And the glorified soul 
 
 Pierce the clouds di'ifting higher, 
 
 Till the love-mingled skies 
 Feast the bright angel eyes. 
 
 Chorus. — The angels on golden wings 
 
 Shall sweep through the clouds. 
 
 Bright'ning through golden spray 
 Sweeps the myriads divine. 
 
 Symbols of that bright day 
 ^Tiich eternally shine ; 
 
 And the shrill harp and song 
 Charm the heavenly throng. 
 
 Chokus. — The angels on golden wings 
 
 Shall sweep through the clouds. 
 
The Lost Damsel. 97 
 
 glxje gjCTBt gamsjeX, 
 
 A damsel, eighteen summers old, 
 
 O'er highland wilds and valleys roam'd, 
 
 Her sparkling eyes of beauties mould 
 Were lost to course and distant home. 
 
 The forest wings spread o'er her deep ; 
 
 When hope was lost she stop'd to weep. 
 
 As tear-drops stole from loving eyes 
 A voice unheard yet seemed to speak, 
 
 " On that tall peak that props the skies 
 Thy lover there for thee doth seek." .^ 
 
 She reached the heights with longing eyes, 
 
 As soft winds bore her weary cries. 
 
 A young man who had loved her dear 
 Drew near, and now he heard her cry ; 
 
 He clasped her hand and wip'd the tear, 
 While joy was sparkling in her eye. 
 
 The love within the young man's soul 
 
 Grew stronger at least tenfold. 
 
 With sobs she said to him, " I'm lost ; 
 
 The sun sinks radiant in the sky ; 
 I climb'd this peak to count the cost, 
 
 Make one more effort e'er I die ; 
 I've roam'd the forest all the day, 
 My life should soon have ebb'd away." 
 
98 The Lost Damsel. 
 
 "Oh, no."" said he. '-you shall not die, 
 Nor seek the peaks as the lost dove ; 
 
 m see YOU home, and then mav I 
 Hope for a token of vour love'?"' 
 
 She s-^eetly bow"d with loving eyes, 
 
 No words were needed for the wise. 
 
 He kissed the rosebloom of her Hps ; 
 
 Hearts variegated like the flower ; 
 The pink of love each other sips. 
 
 Wedding its bloom with lasting power: 
 So drossless tints of cupid shade 
 On blooming love were thus inlaid. 
 
 Now, this was forty years ago. 
 
 And still they walk the sands of life. 
 
 Though silvery locks o"er bright eyes flow, 
 The damsel lost, a loving wife, 
 
 Love they plighted on the mountain 
 
 Still o'erflows their golden fountain. 
 
Sails f 07- Life. 99 
 
 JatXs f ot: %xtz. 
 
 When you set your sails for life 
 Look not for sunshine altogether, 
 
 For in this world or rush and strife 
 
 We must have clouds and stormy weather, 
 
 Believe not fairy tales of luck. 
 
 But rather trust honest labor ; 
 Battles are gained by men of pluck, 
 
 And skillful use of the sabre. 
 
 Look not for large nuggets of gold, 
 Nor wealth that blooms in a day ; 
 
 Pick up small grains that you can hold ; 
 Reach not for things too far away. 
 
 Seek not for golden streaks of luck ; 
 
 Far better seek a balance wheel 
 And gear it with the cogs of pluck, 
 
 And slip no skeins from off the reel. 
 
 Turn, turn the reel, and it will gain 
 
 Drawing threads from the spinning wheel ; 
 
 No time is lost by tangled skein 
 
 While threads are left upon the reel. 
 
 Wind your thread in a solid ball, 
 
 Turn the ball with the balance wheel, 
 
 Shed no tears because your ball seems small. 
 Just keep on winding from the reel. 
 
100 Not One! Not One! 
 
 %t:s\ @ne ! g^t ©rue I 
 
 Not one ! not one ! oh ! who will dwell 
 
 Upon the land and on the sea 
 
 One hundred years to come ? 
 
 Not one ! not one now living ! 
 
 Oh ! who will rule the nation then, 
 
 The temples of justice to adorn ^ 
 
 Will freedom's sons bow to a king? 
 
 The bells of freedom fear to ring? 
 
 Will this republic build a throne 
 
 And freedom's honors all disown, 
 
 One hundred years to come ? 
 
 Will Anarchy step up to rule, 
 
 Or Communism her temples build, 
 
 And raise the whirling clouds of hell, 
 
 Laden with cyclones to sweep 
 
 The Stars and Stripes from freedom's land % 
 
 No, never ! never ! 
 
 The infernal bloom of Communism 
 
 Will bear its poisonous fruit 
 
 To be cast into the wine-press 
 
 Of satan and his followers. 
 
 Though all now living will be in their graves. 
 
 Yet the Stars and Stripes will forever wave. 
 
The Night of Life. 101 
 
 Stxe i:t0M of %iU, 
 
 We journey through the night of life, 
 Weighing sorrow in the light side 
 Of the balance, joyous with the 
 Bright hope of that morning 
 Which brings eternal day. 
 If this life was all happiness 
 We would have no thirst 
 For the joys of eternity. 
 If this world was all brightness 
 Heaven would be robbed of its glory. 
 We feed on the crumbs of Heaven 
 Only as a foretaste of the joys 
 And grandeur which overflow the 
 Golden shores of the river of life. 
 
102 From the Cradle to the G/ave. 
 
 gx:0nx the O^vadle to the (f^vaue. 
 
 The cradle rocks a little girl ; 
 
 She leaves the cradle for the school ; 
 She meets a boy fair as an earl. 
 
 So love their passions now must rule; 
 So, like the bloom within the bud, 
 They try to hide this little flood. 
 
 The Two Loyees. 
 
 Deep in the heart of a blooming pink, 
 Where no eye could e'er discover. 
 
 There hung a little golden link: 
 
 Dangling in the son-beams of her lover 
 
 Dee]D as the link the son-beams stole, 
 
 And in the end his heai't was mold. 
 
 The Bloom of Love. 
 
 The bloom of love is ever strange ; 
 
 Its tender stem you cannot sever ; 
 Its golden hue will never change ; 
 
 It may be lost, yet live forever ; 
 It may be hidden in the tomb. 
 And yet, alas ! will ever bloom. 
 
From the Cradle to the Grave. 103 
 
 Marriage. 
 
 Two budding flowers, side by side, 
 
 Though different name and different bloom, 
 
 But when love touched their inward pride 
 They both were changed and they were one ; 
 
 So when the blossom opened wide 
 
 The fairest bloom her name denied. 
 
 Honeymoon. 
 
 They bloomed with love as two bright flowers, 
 
 Wedding in bliss, becoming one, 
 Melting in each other's powers ; 
 
 With honeymoon bright as the sun, 
 On the mountain of love they stood, 
 In their valley of love a flood. 
 
 Ten Years After Marriage, 
 
 Though flames of love blaze not so high, 
 
 Yet constant blaze has left a coal. 
 Ash-hidden, and it cannot die. 
 
 For like a diamond set in gold. 
 Though one-half hidden, still ablaze, 
 As bright as stars to light the days. 
 
 Silver Wedding. 
 
 They launched their boat upon the stream, 
 
 To journey through the fogs of life, 
 'Neath stars of love and mist agleam. 
 
104 From the Cradle to tlie Grave. 
 
 Hung a silver link bright and rife. 
 Their sky was now so bright and clear, 
 A honeymoon lit their silver year. 
 
 Golden Wedding. 
 
 Their wedded bliss marked fifty years, 
 And their year now bronzed with gold ; 
 
 Snowflakes follow on silver hair, 
 As the cares of time onward roll'd ; 
 
 And though life's sun began to sink, 
 
 Their hearts hung in a golden link. 
 
 Brink of the Grave. 
 
 Machines time-worn, tottering, and slow, 
 Brows furrowed deep with manj^ cares, 
 
 Bright-colored hair now white as snow, 
 The bloom of five and ninety years. 
 
 They stand upon the wondrous brink. 
 
 Where life and death hangs in one link. 
 
Zihertij Bell. 105 
 
 High o'er the city in her steeple, 
 
 With liberty budding for the bloom, 
 
 Her tongue to speak for all the people, 
 As heroes in their council doom. 
 
 The day was long and long ago ; 
 
 Soon must the bell now tell the story ; 
 Breathless the surging crowd below 
 
 Look'd to the bell for words of glory. 
 
 The bellman to the rope now stands ; 
 
 Streets sparkle with uplifted eyes ; 
 When, lo ! her voice rang o'er the lands, 
 
 "Liberty! liberty!" she cries. 
 
 Her voice was drown'd in acclamation ; 
 
 Her sides were rent by heavy stroke ; 
 The sons of slavery, now a nation. 
 
 Resolved to die or rend the yoke. 
 
 She voiced a light, as though a flame 
 Had burst from regions of the earth, 
 
 And with that fiery tongue proclaim'd 
 Equal rights and our nation's birth. 
 
 And though she never rang again, 
 She sent defiance to the king, 
 
 Snapp'd the yoke, severed the chain, 
 And bid freedom's bells to ever ring. 
 
106 Wealth. 
 
 Wealth is the gigantic arm 
 
 That wields the National sword. 
 
 A nation poverty-stricken 
 
 Would be too weak to stand alone, 
 
 And would become a slave 
 
 To kings and tyrany. 
 
 If all men were millionaires 
 
 Who would fill the cogwheels 
 
 That move the nations of the earth 1 
 
 Wealth is the power, 
 
 Poor men the machinery ; 
 
 While all work together 
 
 The world moves harmoniously ; 
 
 Shut off, the power and machinery stops, 
 
 And the poor man must beg for bread. 
 
 The poor man who wields the sword 
 
 In opposition to wealth 
 
 Only lifts the weapon 
 
 To sever his own head. 
 
Dream of the Eternal World. 107 
 
 g^jjeam of tixe gtjevtcaX WioxXd. 
 
 I dreamed of the eternal world, 
 Where all the angels soar on wing, 
 
 And golden clouds in breeze unfurl 
 While myriads float above and sing. 
 
 My glimpse of earth could now behold 
 All the dear friends I ever knew. 
 
 Few were left who in days of old 
 I loved so dear, for they were true. 
 
 Most all of them had crossed the stream, 
 Were robed in glory's brightest crown, 
 
 Which side, should I wake from the dream, 
 In Heaven or still on earth be found. 
 
 My spirit clung to earth no more, 
 
 Yet earthly friends entwined my heart ; 
 
 Alas ! my dream too soon was o'er, 
 And earth still held my counterpart. 
 
108 Washington' s Birthday^ February 22, 1732. 
 
 '^Slasltingt0tx's ^tietlxdatj, '^zhxn^xx^ 22, X732. 
 
 Our nation's pride was not a king 
 
 Who sat upon a throne of gold, 
 But one of whom the poets sing, 
 
 T\liose fame and worth can ne'er be told. 
 He rose high like a star of light, 
 
 Yet knew full well his country's call ; 
 He pledged his life for what was right 
 
 And sipped the cup of war for all. 
 
 He planned the flag of thirteen stars, 
 
 And in defiance let her swing, 
 To face the storm of Britain wars, 
 
 That came like cyclones swift of wing. 
 All hail that bright and glorious morn, 
 
 The morn that for oui* freedom spoke, 
 The day that Washington was born, 
 
 Born to sever the kingly yoke. 
 
 Now let our seventy millions rise. 
 
 Raise tunes of thankfulness and sing 
 Until the echoes reach the skies, 
 
 For one truly greater than a king. 
 Peace at home, good will to all, 
 
 His motto and his life foretold. 
 Yet shrunk not from his country's call, 
 
 But freed her from the king of old. 
 
Washi7igton'' s birthday, February 22, 1732. 109 
 
 We worship not the man of earth, 
 
 But worship God, and God alone, 
 Yet on the day of Washington's birth 
 
 Great national honors should be shown. 
 To the oily wick of liberty 
 
 He touched the everlasting flame, 
 And set a world of slavery free. 
 
 Thus wrote with gold his page of flame. 
 
110 Generations of the Dead. 
 
 Oijetxexjati0nB of ttte gjead. 
 
 [Dedicated to my brother-in-law, Rev. James B. Davis, and my 
 sister Emily, his wife.] 
 
 The sun winged away, through clouds of gold, 
 
 The evening train rumbl'd far away, 
 When alone we strolled 'mid tombs of old, 
 
 Where the fathers sleep of ancient day. 
 They knew no sound of the rumbling train, 
 
 Nor the flash of the news-bearing wire. 
 Homes in the forest they sought to gain ; 
 
 The shy wild herds took fright at their fire. 
 
 King of the forest alone now stand 
 
 Beneath his shade in each narrow cell ; 
 The woodsman of a primeval land, 
 
 To the reaper, 'neath his branches fell. 
 His forest bow'd to their sturdy stroke ; 
 
 By their torches melted to ashen bed, 
 Now lifts the spires of this giant oak 
 
 As monuments o'er his sleeping dead. 
 
 Once he here stood as a forest king. 
 Shaded and clustered on every side, 
 
 Interwoven with the bloom of spring, 
 And green wall'd from every stormy tide, 
 
 Widely now his mighty arms are spreads, 
 And deeply rooted amid the tombs. 
 
Generations of the Dead. Ill 
 
 His forest gone, but sleepers instead, 
 And the marble stone replace his bloom. 
 
 We stood beneath his clustering shade, 
 
 A dove in his leafy branches sung, 
 Mourn'd o'er the tomb where mother was laid 
 
 In the long ago, when I was young. 
 Life's sun set on her fair angel brow 
 
 Like sunbeams on a violet laid. 
 She paled, and then to the reaper bow'd. 
 
 To sleep beneath this hallowed shade. 
 
 And near that lonely murmuring pine 
 
 A furrowed brow, a silvery head, 
 Age-worn, and in the years of decline ; 
 
 Beneath that stone my father was laid. 
 Proudly he drove his turf-rolling plow, 
 
 Herds of the field knew his feed-time voice. 
 Golden grain before his sickle bow'd ; 
 
 As the sun dipp'd low his home rejoiced. 
 
 Let pride despise not his well-paid toil, 
 
 Nor we disown our grand native hills 
 Rich with green meadows, rich with the soil, 
 
 Bright silvery brooks and rippling rills. 
 ^Vhere, oh ! where are the silvery grays ; 
 
 A voice speaks from the mouldering tomb, 
 " Done with earth and have returned to clay 
 
 With the millions, and yet there is room." 
 
112 Generations of the Dead. 
 
 Bright jewels in the morning of Hfe, 
 
 As stars fade before the rising sun, 
 They battled not with the world of strife, 
 
 But, oh ! too soon life's bright race is run. 
 The clustering locks of golden hair 
 
 Oft bloomed o'er forms too lovely to fade, 
 But drank they not of the cup of care, 
 
 But, like lilies, dropp'd to valted shade. 
 
 Vaulted in the silent earthly deep 
 
 Their bones speak to the haughty and proud ; 
 We heed their voice, nature bids us weep, 
 
 The warring thunders are rolling loud. 
 No monuments of honors regal. 
 
 But hands which the gavel might have swayed 
 Grew weary, grew tremulous and j)ale, 
 
 And their honors were sealed with the spade. 
 
 Here sleeps the sons of the olden wars. 
 
 Fresh from the battle-fields of glory, 
 Who fought for the flag of thirteen stars 
 
 As it waved o'er the fields all goary. 
 The din of war disturbs not their sleep, 
 
 Ambitious battle forever done ; 
 No rude lover for his lover weep, 
 
 No rosy east warns them of the dawn. 
 
 One fair lady, with a half -bo wed head, 
 A wreath of flowers in her dimpled hand. 
 
Generations of the Dead. 113 
 
 Hung o'er the tomb of her mother dead, 
 Seal'd from her gaze by sods of the land. 
 
 The day was fading through golden skies ; 
 Weeping she stood o'er her mother dear ; 
 
 To the golden clouds, with angel eyes, 
 
 She looked through space to see her there. 
 
 Tears more affecting were never shed, 
 
 For dead untombed we have learned to weep, 
 But the silent grave cares for our dead ; 
 
 In neglected vaults long do they sleep. 
 Rouse, ye sons, from thy dead slumber rise, 
 
 And sleep ye not this side of the tomb ; 
 Care for thy loved dead, who for the skies 
 
 Bid earth adieu for a brighter home. 
 
 Weep not for them, but weep for their grave ; 
 
 Some neglected spot may mark their tomb ; 
 Treat not thy sire as thou would'st a slave. 
 
 And to thy son look for the same doom. 
 Though they are dead, bid them live again -, 
 
 Lift their fallen monumental stones ; 
 Forsake not thy dead for earthly gain. 
 
 Nor thy father and mother disown. 
 
 That gay church spire, with its rustic bell, 
 Long since its century notes have sung. 
 
 And for the tomb, with a tolling knell 
 O'er deep wailing sorrow, has it swung. 
 
114 Generations of the Dead. 
 
 Clouds of sorrow have dim'd the church hall, 
 Tears have rained, but clouds pass not away ; 
 
 Dim have they grown, but they cannot fall 
 This side the gates of the judgment day. 
 
 Should sleepers rise from their lowly bed 
 
 When the voice of the bell wings thro' the air, 
 And the congregation of the dead 
 
 Assemble in the old church-yard for prayer, 
 Far outnumbered would the living be — 
 
 Generations now would know them not, 
 And a voice would come to you and me, 
 
 " How soon, oh ! how soon are the dead forgot ! " 
 
PiMs Peak. 115 
 
 [Dedicated to my only son, B. H. Davis.] 
 
 Oh hoary peak ! Thou king of kings, 
 
 Standest thou in thy matchless form, 
 
 Commanding the snow-capped peaks around thee, 
 
 DazzHng the eyes of men, 
 
 And baffling the skillful pen 
 
 Thy wonderous grandeur to describe. 
 
 Bathing thy feet in the rippling brook, 
 
 And chanting weird songs on the silvery tongue 
 
 Of thy snow-fed streams and misty falls. 
 
 The cyclone howls around thy form, 
 
 Dipping their smutty wings 
 
 Far beneath the crowning peak 
 
 Of thy time-worn massive walls. 
 
 The lightnings flash and the thunder rolls, 
 
 And the clouds drift on in silky scrolls, 
 
 And the raindrops dance on the silvery stone, 
 
 While the king looks down from his sunlit throne. 
 
 Eyes of the prehistoric cave dwellers 
 
 Gazed upon thy wonderous altitude 
 
 With adoration at the close of the day. 
 
 Then lift thy crown to the skies. 
 
116 I* ike's Peak. 
 
 And catch the last glimmering rays 
 
 Of the golden sunbeams ; 
 
 And wrap thy golden mantle around thee, 
 
 Then drop thy golden robe, 
 
 And turn thy face and kiss the moon. 
 
 And wrap thyself in nightly vales 
 
 Of ghostly shades and silvery gleamings. 
 
 The sun sweeps o'er the dark blue sea 
 
 And burns the misty shades of night. 
 
 And pours a flood of golden light 
 
 Upon thy misty, sparkling crown ; 
 
 While the towering gods of the brook-worn gorge, 
 
 And the sweeping fields of the distant plains, 
 
 In their dewy robes peacefully slumber. 
 
 Still wrapped in the misty shades of the fading night. 
 
The Glosiiig Scene. 117 
 
 [Dedicated to my daughter Lura.] 
 
 Tlie rolling hills were robed in gold, 
 
 And fringed with curtains gold and green, 
 
 And highland peaks stood grand and bold. 
 With crimson valleys trailed between ; 
 
 Those golden robes hung from the sky- 
 Like drapery from a kingly throne ; 
 
 Which charmed the lover's faithful eye, 
 And, spell-bound, held him to his own. 
 
 Surrounding peaks propped all the sky. 
 
 Both north and south, and east and west ; 
 And Heaven's dome, hung from on high, 
 
 On golden pillars seemed to rest. 
 The hills built up in fleecy trains, 
 
 And waved in beauty, step by step, 
 Aad brightening by the cooling rains. 
 
 The dazzling sunshine o'er them crept. 
 
 The sun went down o'er reefs of gold, 
 And early in the new bright morn 
 
 His eyes seemed proud still to behold 
 A world with scenes so bright adorned; 
 
118 The Closing Scene. 
 
 But Jack witli snowy sickle came 
 
 And reaped his harvest gold and brown, 
 
 And wove a carpet of the same 
 
 And spread it o'er the highland ground. 
 
 Then all the forest, grey and bare, 
 
 Stood like dim ghosts scratching the sky, 
 And forest birds, so sweet and fair, 
 
 Began to plume and southward fly ; 
 Red-wing blackbirds, ten thousand strong, 
 
 Had mustered for a long farewell ; 
 In musical glee their farewell song 
 
 Out on the breeze began to swell. 
 
 Such music, though, is not for me 
 
 Ever to picture with a pen ; 
 Their song was shrill, chords sweet and free, 
 
 And charmed the stony hearts of men. 
 The birds were gone. Jack came again. 
 
 And wove a carpet, grey and brown. 
 And scattered frost-thorns on the pane. 
 
 And cut the bloming dahlia down. 
 
 The farmer hewed his winter log 
 
 And drove his herd from field to barn ; 
 
 The boys skipped out with rabbit dog. 
 Kind mothers knit warm socks of yarn ; 
 
 Sweet maidens all, with sparkling eyes, 
 Stepped lightly o'er the kitchen floor, 
 
The Closing Scene, 119 
 
 And baked the bread and nice mince pies, 
 And placed the fuel by the door. 
 
 Next night King Jack returned again 
 
 And wove a carpet glossy white, 
 Without a spot, without a stain, 
 
 And glistened in the darkest night. 
 The woodsman to the forest hill. 
 
 With gun and bowie and dog beside ; 
 The farmer jingling to the mill ; 
 
 The boys hunt crooked boards to ride. 
 
 The lover, with his nice brown steed 
 
 Hooked to the cutter, flies away 
 To meet the one he loves indeed 
 
 And take her riding in the sleigh. 
 The day is closed ; day's work is done ; 
 
 The farmer from the grinding mill ; 
 The lovers back, and they are one ; 
 
 The woodsman's deer hangs on the hill. 
 
120 The Silent Messenger. 
 
 There is a magnet charm, 
 Or affinity, not form, 
 
 That underhes 
 
 The piercing eyes 
 That speaks the lasting word, 
 Yet never, never heard. 
 
 'Tis not the eye alone 
 
 That makes oui- wishes known, 
 Bnt something deep 
 That seems to sleej) 
 
 Within the mortal sonl, 
 
 Unseen, yet all is told. 
 
 'Tis not the midnight dream. 
 Nor polished words, that seem 
 To form this line 
 Of heart and mind. 
 But something ever still. 
 And yet we know its will. 
 
Speak No III. 121 
 
 Nay, speak no ill of friend or foe, 
 And if you're driven to the wall. 
 And there can find no good at all 
 
 Unstained by tongue, best let him go. 
 
 A kindly word is much preferred 
 By those who seem to be in fault ; 
 And if at fault, may call a halt 
 
 And straighten every crooked word. 
 
 The slanderous tongue like bells are rung. 
 Where all the town and country round 
 Can hear the slang echo rebound 
 
 To sever hearts where friendship clung. 
 
 The tattler's tales are like the sails 
 
 Of pirate ships upon the seas, 
 
 They always sail on evil breeze, 
 Disguised by satanic veils. 
 
 When fortune turns and trouble burns 
 
 The wreaking, pained, and withering heart, 
 How soon does friendship then depart? 
 
 To count his faults his virtues spurn. 
 
122 
 
 &peah No III. 
 
 Can we disown the seed weVe sown 
 
 ^Tien harvest comes and fields are brown? 
 Is there one perfect to be found? 
 
 Let him alone cast the first stone. 
 
Terrors of a Criminal 123 
 
 gveam. 
 
 Great God! is this my awful doom? 
 
 Yes, doomed to this dark, dismal cell, 
 To dream of joy and peace at home, 
 
 While haunted by the ghosts of hell ! 
 
 Tormented by the blood I drew ; 
 
 Tormented by that awful crime ; 
 Tormented by the maid I slew. 
 
 Who prayed me for an inch of time. 
 
 She told me that her heart was true ; 
 
 That she could love no other man — 
 Oh ! cursed be the knife that drew 
 
 Her precious blood upon my hand ! 
 
 For still I see that pleading look. 
 As if her tender heart would break ; 
 
 She kissed me ; then my hand she took. 
 And threw her arm around my neck. 
 
 " Away ! " I cried ; " deceiver, stand ! 
 
 I know of thy dishonest heart. 
 Your love is for another man. 
 
 So death shall sever us apart." 
 
124 Aioakening from a Dream, 
 
 She sank beneath my wicked frown, 
 Still glancing at the fearful knife, 
 
 And cried for mercy, sinking down, 
 To close the scenes of mortal life. 
 
 But now the dreadful deed is done, 
 A jealous heart must bear the blame; 
 
 For she was true, she loved but one, 
 
 And he's now doomed to death and shame. 
 
 Oh, yes ; in dreams I see my bed, 
 Mid all the flaming fiends of hell. 
 
 They're in my cell ! I see the dead ! 
 And soon must I their numbers swell ! 
 
 
War Eagle. 125 
 
 Now all the Nation, North and South, 
 
 Had trimmed their lamps for civil war ; 
 And death belched from the cannon's mouth, 
 
 'Till heaven and earth quailed in despair. 
 Then came the mystic eagle spy, 
 
 And joined a regiment of blue, 
 To climb the stairway of the sky. 
 
 And lead the battles of the true. 
 
 And now the battle had begun ; 
 
 The eagle took the winding stair, 
 And sailed beyond the Southern gun, 
 
 Around and round, high in the air. 
 Ten thousand Southern bullets flew 
 
 To kill the golden eagle spy ; 
 But still he led his army through, 
 
 On wings where bullets could not fly. 
 
 And when the stars and stripes had won, 
 And armies went encamped by night, 
 
 They found the eagle on his gun. 
 Hung in the tent for roost at night. 
 
 He led each battle in its turn, 
 
 Through all the din and clash of war, 
 
126 War Eagle. 
 
 His regiment's pet, he soon had learned 
 The men and stripes which bore the star. 
 
 And when the cruel war was done, 
 
 This bird went home with boys in blue, 
 Who crowned him king of victories won 
 
 For starry blue and armies true. 
 And to the great centennial Fair 
 
 They took this wondrous kingly spy, 
 "Who made his throne high in the air. 
 
 Above the din and battle cry. 
 
Johnstoicn Flood. 127 
 
 They hurried to the garret ceiling, 
 
 Six children and a lovely mother, 
 But soon the deathly waves there stealing, 
 
 Filled space, 'till all began to smother, 
 And their doom was sealed ; no ray of light, 
 
 But a foaming flood was passing by, 
 And darkness of that fearful night 
 
 Had cast its shades o'er moon and sky. 
 
 They bent their way to the window pane. 
 
 And the mother seized a floating board, 
 And one of the band admission gained ; 
 
 A kiss, good-bye, and was heard no more. 
 Six times, as the floating timbers passed. 
 
 She placed them on, and a kiss, good-bye ; 
 But worst of all was the dear one last — 
 
 A father's pet with mischievous eye. 
 
 Just then a crash and the building fell. 
 And was swept away 'mid clash of sound ; 
 
 But she clung to the roof, which floated well. 
 And swift away from the floating town. 
 
 Out on the waves in the pitch of night, 
 
 'Mid shrieks and screams and dying groans, 
 
128 Johnstoicn Flood. 
 
 And. not a lamp, nor a glimmering light. 
 As buildings groaned with a hideous moan. 
 
 But awav on the wings of the waves, 
 
 With the stai' of Hope forever set, 
 And just a span to the hissing grave, 
 
 ^Miere wrath of the waves its victim met, 
 Down, down the wrathy current flying. 
 
 Grinding, surging, hissing and roaring. 
 Screaming, groaning, moaning and dying. 
 
 The angry waves "mid forests poui'ing. 
 
 On the distant shore a signal light. 
 
 But the forest trees walked through the flood 
 With clutchinor fine^ers and arms of mio;ht 
 
 Wrecking the crafts and the floating wood. 
 A voice was heard on the wave-washed shore. 
 
 And a signal light was gleaming bright. 
 And her craft rushed mid din and roar; 
 
 But was saved by men in pitch of night. 
 
When toe were Boys. 129 
 
 When we were boys, one dreary night, 
 We made a pine torch for a light, 
 And ventured up the silent stream, 
 Which bent its course through evergreen. 
 Our fishing party, brave as men, 
 Bore torches and a gig in hand. 
 An awful stillness now prevailed, 
 The brook lay slumbering in the vale. 
 
 The bluffs, and oft' the rocky ledge, 
 Bathed their feet in the water's edge ; 
 The pines, like ship masts, towering tall, 
 The hills built up like ancient walls, 
 The mighty forest, ages old. 
 Arched the stream o'er many a hole, 
 And Nature, grand in her display, 
 Still claimed her own that early day. 
 
 The night was dark, 'twas understood, 
 But doubly dark when in the wood; 
 But we were fishing 'long the coast, 
 And had no time to look for ghosts, 
 And no one dared to mention dread 
 Of panthers in the trees o'erhead ; 
 
130 Whe7i we were Boys. 
 
 But, like the dread torpedo's shock, 
 A scream re-echoed from a rock 
 
 "Which hung its ledge high o'er the stream. 
 To which our light had thrown a gleam ; 
 That hideous scream, that wild hiss squall, 
 Raised hair on end, and hats grew tall; 
 And I can never paint the sound. 
 As down it poured and echoed round, 
 But surely I shall ne'er forget — 
 It seems just now I hear it yet. 
 
 But this enough to fill our cup ; 
 
 We then explored no further up ; 
 
 We now went trailing down the stream. 
 
 When Harry raised a maniac scream. 
 
 And little music for his dance, 
 
 A scream, a prance, a maniac glance ; 
 
 And all the words we heard him say. 
 
 "Take it away! Take it away! 
 
 "It's cold as ice, and I shall die!" 
 And these words ended Harry's cry; 
 A huge green frog leaped from his throat, 
 Had squeezed 'neath collar of his coat, 
 And when he jumped he gave a squeal. 
 And Harry staggered back and reeled ; 
 He climbed his leg beneath his clothes. 
 And scratched the skin from feet to nose. 
 
"When we toere 13oys. 131 
 
 All were scared, sill in a flurry, 
 Frog made passage in a hurry ; 
 And Harry, gasping, pale as death. 
 And wildly struggling for his breath, 
 And we, recovering from the shock, 
 Recalled the scream poured from the rock. 
 Well, Harry lived, boys laughed and screamed. 
 But all went gliding from the stream. 
 
132 A Bamble O'er My Native Hills, 
 
 Long years have come and rolled away, 
 Since here we roamed in boyhood days, 
 When forest birds sang full and strong 
 In sweeter notes than human song. 
 From this high peak, so calm and still, 
 I trace the brook and distant hill, 
 Where ancient oaks our father slew, 
 When these dark woods to whites were new. 
 
 His axe was first in all the vale 
 When foot-prints marked the only trail, 
 When routes were blazed for men to see. 
 By chip or hack, from tree to tree. 
 High on this mountain peak I stand. 
 To scan again my native land, 
 More dearly prized than fame or gold, 
 Or even friends we loved of old. 
 
 Afar in yonder distant vale 
 
 The soundings of the muffled flail 
 
 Went out on wings of early morn 
 
 As well-timed music from the barn. 
 
 The golden wheat sent down to mill 
 
 Where burrs were run by drowning wheel, 
 
A Eamble O'er My Native Hills. 133 
 
 Made snow-white biscuit, soft and sweet, 
 Which comes alone from new-grown wheat. 
 
 The woodlands fringed around the plain, 
 Where browning fields were minus grain ; 
 The meadows, dressed in velvet green, 
 With scythe-mown stacks to dot the scene; 
 The lark had led her brood away, 
 Then sought a pinnacle of hay 
 To blend her music with the quail 
 That whistling stood upon a rail. 
 
 Unfading as the sun's sharp ray 
 Are sounds and scenes of that bright day ; 
 Two miles away the woodland bell 
 Banged softly, yet we knew it well, 
 And all the herds in woods around 
 Were known by bells of different sounds ; 
 And, oh! that sweetly singing bird, 
 Where oft in woods we found the herd. 
 
 Its notes were charming, clear and shrill, 
 And rang in woods from hill to hill ; 
 How often did I hear that song 
 When hilltop shades were growing long 
 And gold-tint clouds on summer eve 
 In fleecy trains rolled on the breeze. 
 And in this golden leafy bower 
 Was e'er its home in childhood hour, 
 
134 A Bamble O'er My Native Hills 
 
 "Wlien hills were draped in green and gold, 
 To charm the heart in days of old ; 
 Swamp-robin is our songster's name, 
 With all her music never tame ; 
 She flits away sweet songs to sing, 
 You see her only on the wing. 
 But hark ! she comes with sweeter tone 
 Than e'er in youth was ever known. 
 
 My cup is full, I ask no more, 
 I've scanned the scenes of childhood o'er, 
 And on this towering woodland hill 
 Our hidden champion singeth still. 
 
 Thus Nature bound her golden chains 
 
 Around my boyish heart, 
 And evermore, while life remains. 
 
 These charms can ne'er depart. 
 
Shipioreck. 135 
 
 The mighty deep was deathly still, 
 
 All 'round the sky rests on the sea ; 
 Our pilot drove his ship at will, 
 
 The sailors, sunning, lie at ease ; 
 But soon we saw a drifting storm. 
 
 And howling thunders loudly rolled. 
 The heaving clouds were rent and torn 
 
 By flash and streaks like liquid gold. 
 
 The sleeping sea awoke in fright, 
 
 And, angry, lashed her sheets to foam ; 
 She rolled her waves to mountain height. 
 
 And wrapped the ocean all in gloom • 
 The heavens grew as black as night. 
 
 The ship was tossed by wind and waves. 
 Still drifting, drifting to the right, 
 
 Abreast the isle of sailors' graves. 
 
 The last bright hope had taken flight. 
 The rigging torn from stem to stern. 
 
 The steam blew out with roar and might. 
 The brilliant lamps refused to burn; 
 
 The waves had gone high o'er the deck, 
 And sunk our helpless vessel low, 
 
136 Ship^oreck. 
 
 'Which rose to meet a fearful wreck 
 
 On cliffs where foam drifts white as snow. 
 
 Our ship was tossed upon a rock, 
 
 A shivered wreck on stony bed, 
 While some recovered from the shock, 
 
 Still others missing — they were dead. 
 We drifted there upon the isle, 
 
 The long ill-fated isle of gloom, 
 Where ships lay mouldering all the while, 
 
 And death was but the sailor's doom. 
 
 There human bones lie on the sands, 
 
 The ship's tall masts had crumbled down, 
 Large diamond rings on skeleton hands, 
 
 And trunks of gold were scattered round ; 
 A safe there stood with open door. 
 
 Large drawers filled with specie gold; 
 The inner safe ten thousand more 
 
 Large diamonds, from the land of old. 
 
 Large steel-bound trunks of silver-wEire, 
 
 And costly watches made of gold. 
 And diamond bracelets sealed from air, 
 
 Were packed with skill just from the mold. 
 But, oh ! how small did all appear ; 
 
 The star of hope forever set, 
 The close of life then drawing near. 
 
 The doom of others to be met. 
 
Shipwreck. 137 
 
 Three suns had set o'er western seas, 
 
 When, lo ! just at the dawn of day, 
 A sail came driving on the breeze 
 
 Toward the isle, though far away; 
 No ship had ever reached that shore, 
 
 Save those by fearful storm and wreck ; 
 Small boats were sent by sail and oar 
 
 To bear the lost upon the deck. 
 
 The change was all this world could give, 
 
 'T was simply raising from the dead, 
 That we again should drink and live, 
 
 Where nature's bounty should be spread ; 
 How small does all this world appear, 
 
 When close of life is drawing near ; 
 One hope is of ten thousand fold 
 
 More value than a world of gold. 
 
138 A Man from the Planet Yenus. 
 
 A Brongole Kell from Yenus Star 
 
 Had sailed beyond its boundary line, 
 Attraction lost the man of air 
 
 Was minus power to confine ; 
 So like a boulder through all space 
 
 He dropped toward this rolling world, 
 But miles above his resting place, 
 
 The Brongole sails again unfurled. 
 
 Yet far above the sea and land 
 
 This aged man, just from the star, 
 Beheld the world so broad and grand, 
 
 With golden clouds hung in the air. 
 He lowered his Brongole on a hill 
 
 O'erlooking all the city crowd. 
 There rushing to and fro at will, 
 
 Like winds disturb the heaving cloud. 
 
 He could not dare to venture there. 
 In all that hurly-burly crowd; 
 
 He put his Brongole in the air. 
 And sailed away amid the cloud. 
 
 And then o'er hill and widening vale, 
 He sailed upon the gentle breeze ; 
 
A Man from the Planet Venus. 139 
 
 He saw the engine on the rail ; 
 
 The ships and boats upon the seas. 
 
 And all the world was on the fly, 
 
 A rush ! a clash ! a roar of steam ! 
 Till night shut out the golden sky, 
 
 And twinkling stars began to gleam ; 
 The cities burnt ten thousand lights, 
 
 And ghostly shadows walked the streets ; 
 The bell of time marked hours of night ; 
 
 Tall steeples waved their national sheets. 
 
 He sailed high o'er the city street. 
 
 And lowered his Brongole on a hill, 
 Where men of note he chanced to meet, 
 
 And this strange story did reveal : 
 A king there sat in golden chair. 
 
 His kell around him in a fold ; 
 His eyes were bright, but silvery hair. 
 
 And he in years nine hundred old. 
 
 His wond'rous scenes of day had closed 
 
 With golden tints of sunset sky; 
 And sad was he to learn our woes. 
 
 And know that we were born to die. 
 A tear stole from the stranger's eye. 
 
 When he these burning words were told. 
 That he on earth must surely die. 
 
 For we of death have no control. 
 
140 A. Man fronn the Planet Venus. 
 
 " O. my dear sir, Tm from yon star, 
 
 And Pm in years nine hundred old ; 
 I cannot die in lands afar. 
 
 For half my days can ne'er be told- 
 Our world is bright as noon-day sun, 
 
 A world where pleasure never dies ; 
 Each day new pleasures, just begun. 
 
 Ee-echoes gladness to the skies. 
 
 •• Our days are bright, our nights are clear. 
 
 No cloud can ever dim the sky : 
 But silvery gleamings fill the air. 
 
 Sweeping grandeur from on high. 
 Ten thousand Broncroles swiftlv fiv. 
 
 Ten thousand voices sweetly sing, 
 Ten thousand harps float through the sky, 
 
 With thrilling music, on the wing. 
 
 "In yonder star there is no sin, 
 
 Xo pain nor death can ever come ; 
 As time rolls on. new life begins 
 
 To perfect life where'er we roam ; 
 There crystal streams forever flow. 
 
 And ripple o'er the golden sands. 
 And trees of life spontaneous gi-ow 
 
 In balmy plains throughout the land. 
 
 " There cities stand aglow in white, 
 
 TVith streets and walks of sUvery pearl, 
 
A Man from the Planet Venus. 141 
 
 And golden chandeliers of light 
 
 Hung in the skies all round the world ; 
 
 And through the fields of boundless air, 
 Upon the glittering winged Brongole, 
 
 We sail around a world so fair 
 
 That eyes of earth could not behold. 
 
 " On gentle breeze the rich perfume 
 
 Is wafted o'er the land and seas, 
 And all the world perpetual bloom 
 
 Throughout that paradise of ease." 
 He put his Brongole in the air, 
 
 On outspread wings of glittering gold, 
 And sailed beyond this world of care, 
 
 With scenes too grand for earth to hold. 
 
142 Thunder. 
 
 ^\\\\n^zx. 
 
 <^ 
 
 God heralds the lightning through the cloud, 
 In tremulous tones and rolling loud ; 
 Kolls on and strikes the ethereal bell, 
 To ring the world's great funeral knell. 
 
 The sun goes down like liquid gold, 
 The cloud lifts up, and man beholds 
 God's glory painted on the sky, 
 Eeflecting from the throne on high. 
 
MRS. EMILY R. DAVIS. 
 
 [144] 
 
My Long-Forgotten Friend, Lenore. 145 
 
 1^^ g0tX0^^0)::0jcrttjetx "^xxzn^, gen^t^je. 
 
 [Dedicated to My Wife. J 
 
 I met her when the evening train 
 
 Came rolling from the highland wild. 
 I loved her. I could not refrain, 
 
 Yet had not seen her since a child. 
 When last we met 'twas close of school, 
 
 In the grand Exhibition Hall, 
 When she was only ten years old, 
 
 Yet wore a charm for one and all. 
 
 Six years had passed, she was full grown, 
 
 And robed in beauty, angel fair. 
 I coiild not call this heart my own. 
 
 When with a smile she met me there. 
 The train drew up. We all aboard. 
 
 Went gliding from each mountain bend, 
 'Twas then she dropped the careless word 
 
 By which I knew she was my friend. 
 
 We met again in after days ; 
 
 I loved her still, 'twas very true. 
 
 For she was lovely in her ways, 
 
 And all respect to her was due ; 
 10 
 
146 My Long-Forgotten Friend^ Lenore. 
 
 But lialf my heart belonged to one 
 Whom I loved dearly long before, 
 
 But thought perhaps her heart was gone, 
 And I could win it back no more. 
 
 For months had passed since last we met. 
 
 And then I dreamed she loved no more. 
 I tried to doubt her and forget, 
 
 But still I loved as ne'er before. 
 She then was nineteen summers old, 
 
 And when we met love's cup was filled, 
 For I those smiles could then behold, 
 
 And read in them she loved me still. 
 
 'Twas not a word that she had spoke ; 
 
 'Twas not a sigh, 'twas not a tear ; 
 But in those eyes a tender look ; 
 
 I knew she loved me, loved me dear. 
 By magnet power love's golden chain 
 
 Entwined my long divided heart, 
 And by a pledge was bound the twain 
 
 Through life to never, never part. 
 
 So years rolled on (fifteen or more), 
 Till old school-mates were near forgot. 
 
 When in a dream I saw Lenore 
 
 Where last we met, or near that spot. 
 
 Oh ! long-forgotten friend, Lenore, 
 
 Hast thou no friend to soothe thy way ? 
 
My Long-Forgotten Friend^ Lenore. 147 
 
 <•= Oh, no," said she, " but ask no more, . 
 And call on me another day." 
 
 My heart grew sad, though all a dream, 
 
 For still these words I pondered o'er, 
 And still could see her by the stream. 
 
 Where oft we strolled long years before. 
 I dropped a note to friend Lenore, 
 
 And soon received a kind reply. 
 She wished to have me call once more ; 
 
 She knew that she must shortly die. 
 
 Oh, surely 'twas not all a dream ; 
 
 So I at once resolved to go. 
 And soon I walked beside the stream 
 
 Where in my dream I knew her woe. 
 She met me at her father's door. 
 
 With joy expressed in every smile; 
 But ah ! 'twas not the once Lenore, 
 
 Yet beauty lingered all the while. 
 
 And with a smile of calm repose 
 
 She then referred to days of yore. 
 Of youth's bright hope and cloud of woes, 
 
 And then she paused and said no more. 
 And when the hour for evening train, 
 
 As we stood by the cottage door, 
 She asked me to return again. 
 
 But a long farewell to friend Lenore. 
 
148 Consolation, 
 
 C!^jcrrcs0Xati0tx. 
 
 ''Then He arose, and rebuked the wind, and the ragmg of the 
 water ; and they ceased, and there was a calm." — Luke mil. ^-^. 
 
 Oh, the Saviour speaks to me ! 
 
 Lo ! He walks upon the deep ; 
 Now He stills the troubled sea, 
 
 At His will the billows sleep. 
 
 Chorus. — We are sailing on life's sea, 
 
 Soon we'll reach the golden shore ; 
 Then, through all eternity, 
 
 We shall praise Thee evermore. 
 
 Saviour, by thy grace divine 
 
 We escape the tempter's snare ; 
 Precious Jesus, we are Thine; 
 
 Wnt Thou hear our humble prayer? 
 
 Cho. — We are sailing, &c. 
 
 We have pushed from off the shore. 
 
 Now to sail upon life's sea; 
 May Thy spirit guide the oar. 
 
 For our strength must come from Thee. 
 
 Cho. — We are sailing, &c. 
 
Consolation. 149 
 
 Oh, we praise Thy holy name, 
 
 For the palm of victory, 
 For the Lamb of Calvary slain, 
 
 That from death we might be free. 
 
 Cho.— We are sailing, &c. 
 
 We are coming to Thy bar. 
 
 Dear Lamb of Calvary ; 
 Faith beholds Thy glories there, 
 
 And a crown laid up for me. 
 
 Cho. — We are sailing, &c. 
 
1S6 The Store. 
 
 SIxje Moxz. 
 
 c:^ 
 
 In years past, tliirty-two and more, 
 My dreams led out to run a store ; 
 And now, for thirty years and more. 
 By day and night I've tramped the floor. 
 
 I then was young, now old and gray ; 
 Time like a dream has passed away, 
 Some pages dark, some bright as day, 
 With valued friends to cheer the way. 
 
 High on the shelf old ledgers pile 
 Which fed on day-book all the while, 
 To mark the sales of city style 
 For ladies, girls and baby child. 
 
 Dishonest nature's own display 
 
 Has left its index day by day. 
 
 And strong bound ledgers stacked away 
 
 Record the names who do not pay. 
 
 Pen-holder brass, but pen-point gold, 
 The brass worn through where fingers hold 
 To charge the goods thus bought and sold. 
 To rich and poor, to young and old. 
 
The Store. 
 
 151 
 
 The walnut desk is long on hand, 
 Old show case on new counter stand, 
 New store-room finished nice and grand, 
 I now must leave to till the land. 
 
 Friends, rich and poor, we hang the oar 
 Upon the shore. To run the store 
 'Haps nevermore. The farm look o'er, 
 By rake and mower. And timothy sower. 
 
152 Oh, Shall We Meet 07i Heaven's Shore f 
 
 [Presented to ]\Iy Sister, jMrs. V. Langfitte.] 
 
 Oh ! shall we meet on heaven's shore 
 Those loved ones who have gone before? 
 My mother's star has never set, 
 Its beauty shines around me yet. 
 
 The harvest fields once brown and gold, 
 
 There father reap'd in ages old. 
 
 Alas ! his sickle falls no more ; 
 
 Oh ! shall we meet on that bright shore ? 
 
 A brother, who had scarce known pain, 
 Stood like a stalk of well-formed grain ; 
 Death's angel dipped his icy wing, 
 And friendly hearts bled from the sting. 
 
 A sister, with bright golden hair, 
 
 A brother, bent with age and care, 
 
 A host of friends, long since passed o'er ; 
 
 Oh ! shall we meet on that bright shore ? 
 
 A charming schoolmate, justly dear, 
 Robed in her beauty, angel fair, 
 Blooming in life's path like the rose 
 That graces the stem on which it grows. 
 
Oh, Shall We Meet on Heaven's Shore f 153 
 
 Alas ! tlie reaper's sickle fell ; 
 
 Alas ! a mournful funeral knell ; 
 
 Alas ! my friend was seen no more ; 
 
 Oil ! shall we meet on that bright shore ? 
 
 I had a niece, with golden hair, 
 And all who knew her loved her dear ; 
 At noon of life I saw her fade, 
 And on her cheeks a rose was laid, 
 
 Which bloomed beneath the ringlets gold, 
 Too charming fair for earth to hold. 
 We see that sweet bright face no more ; 
 Oh ! shall we meet on that bright shore ? 
 
 No tearless eye could view that face 
 
 When death had closed her cheerful eyes ; 
 
 Alas ! she slept with all her grace, 
 
 As though death's veil were mere diguise. 
 
154 Mount of the Holy Cross. 
 
 "QXmxxxt of the BaXtj (Cross. 
 
 Towering high in the western sky. 
 
 Stands the Mount of the Holy Cross; 
 And on this peak the cross so high, 
 
 Stands like the world's diadem lost, 
 Sculptured in traces bold and grand, 
 
 In ages dai*k and all unknown, 
 By Him who worketh not by hand. 
 
 Yet set the eternal cross of stone. 
 
 Set on this mount in silvery gray, 
 
 Wrapped the golden sunset cloud, 
 Unyeiling at the dawn of day, 
 
 With diamonds glitter grand and proud. 
 On arms outspread the early morn 
 
 Pours golden splendor from the sun, 
 And all the ages yet unborn 
 
 Shall find its course is never run. 
 
 High on this pinnacle of stone, 
 
 The kingly mountain of the world, 
 
 There God has set His earthly throne. 
 The Cross, His banner, there unfurled. 
 
 The Golden Gate now stands ajar, 
 Men from the east are drifting by. 
 
Mount of the Holy Cross, l55 
 
 And rays gleam from the golden star, 
 Whicli leadeth to that Cross on high. 
 
 The Cross of Calvary is lost ; 
 
 But Christ now sits upon the throne, 
 Pleads for a world of sin and dross. 
 
 And points it to the cross of stone. 
 The unbelieving sinners, all, 
 
 The Cross of Calvary disown ; 
 Then gaze upon the mount so tall, 
 
 And tremble 'neath the cross of stone, 
 
 Which from pure ether grandly shines, 
 
 To prove the holy written word. 
 And on this seal the hand divine 
 
 Has written, "Holy is the Lord." 
 Over the range to the Golden Gate, 
 
 In splendor shines this living cross; 
 In sight of all men, small and great. 
 
 The symbol of the sacred loss. 
 
156 0, Sinner, Turn! 
 
 O, Sinner, turn ! why will yon die, 
 
 And lose a precious son! ? 
 ^When there's a mainsion built on high, 
 
 ^liere streets are paved with gold. 
 
 Our Sayiour, who on Calvary died, 
 
 Stands ready to receive ; 
 His arms of love extended wide. 
 
 And bids thee now believe. 
 
 He died that sinful dust might live, 
 
 And do we count the cost. 
 Or will we souls to Satan give, 
 
 Regardless of the loss? 
 
 How bright the King of Glory shines, 
 "WTaen sorrowing souls believe, 
 
 "Who hear the whisper, thou art Mine, 
 From sin thy soul is freed. 
 
 The cloud of darkness is removed ; 
 
 Bright heaven shines around. 
 And fills the soul with sacred love. 
 
 And fits it for the crown. 
 
O, Sinner, Turn! 157 
 
 The saints rejoice in Heaven above, 
 
 While angels hover o'er, 
 The new-born soul, so full of love, 
 
 Whose God they all adore. 
 
 Why will you, then, poor sinner, stay? 
 Salvation's offered free ; 
 
 And God invites, while friends do pray, 
 
 And this is all for thee. 
 
 ^^juL^ 
 
158 Colorado. 
 
 The world of nations have their kings, 
 
 Where golden diadems glitter proud ; 
 The King of States new glory brings, 
 
 With crowning head high in the cloud. 
 Colorado is the King of States, 
 
 With crowns of gold wrapped in the sky, 
 And from her walls the Golden Gate 
 
 Is hinged on silver gleaming high. 
 
 Her mountain peaks are fringed with gold 
 
 Her walls are knit with silver strands, 
 And silver brick just from the mold 
 
 Are piled on pavements through the land. 
 Her snow-capped peaks of purity 
 
 Send health and long life through the vale, 
 And ages of obscurity 
 
 Are now the ages of the rail. 
 
 With windings through the walls so tall. 
 And grading up the mountain side, 
 
 With power and room for one and all. 
 Who on the rail may wish to ride ; 
 
 Over the range they puff and blow. 
 Ten thousand feet up in the sky, 
 
Colorado. 159 
 
 Pass all tlie clouds whicli drift below, 
 And wrap in golden clouds on high. 
 
 Tornado storms, in smutty sheet, 
 
 Swift howl around the peak so high, 
 But dip their wings beneath the feet 
 
 Of those who may be on the fly. 
 The golden rays flash from the sun, 
 
 As nature sinks it down to rest. 
 And when its course is fully run, 
 
 All heaven is golden in the west. 
 
 The King of States, and king of all, 
 
 "With tallest peaks e'er crowned with gold. 
 And deeper gorges, higher walls 
 
 Than crown the Switzerland of old. 
 Fertile valley's, crystal fountains, 
 
 And many wide extending plains, 
 Spread between her snow-capped mountains. 
 
 Checkered with railroads and sweeping trains. 
 
160 The, Beer Chase, 
 
 The rolling hills were capped with snow, 
 And deer were rambling high and low, 
 A thunder's roar, "mid timbers talL 
 TThen hunters fired the one-ounce ball, 
 A wounded deer had given chase, 
 And not a man about the place. 
 
 So mother took her curs and knife. 
 To give the deer one chase for life : 
 The hills re-echoed music sounds. 
 All different sounds from many hounds, 
 And louder, louder came the sounds. 
 As forest hills they circled round. 
 
 But centering to the crossing place, 
 "Where curs had often won the race. 
 Still louder bawled the trailing hound. 
 And lo I the deer came bouncing round, 
 Came loping, loping through the field. 
 Where mother had her curs concealed. 
 
 She loosed the chain, they scaled around. 
 They seized and tore him to the ground ; 
 
 She cut his throat, and stopped the sounds 
 
11 
 
 The Beer Chase, 161 
 
 Of many yelping, yelping hounds. 
 
 And o'er yond hill and through that vale 
 
 The hounds came yelping on the trail. 
 
 And lo ! a deer, with horns so tall, 
 
 Could whip the trail houndg, curs and all; 
 
 Then brother and I down, down the vale ; 
 
 The fight was up, he seized a rail. 
 
 And with the vengeance of a fiend. 
 
 He struck his horns ; his eyes turned green — 
 
 And with more madness than before, 
 
 He used his horns to plunge and gore. 
 
 Now all the dogs put in the chase. 
 
 By this dread moment reached the place ; 
 
 But he was champion over all, 
 
 Eyes flashing green and horns so tall. 
 
 Then brother rallied with his rail, 
 
 His horns were splintered in his trail, 
 
 And he came tumbling with a bawl, 
 
 The dogs then seized him, one and all. 
 
 Oh, could I live it o'er again, 
 
 And hear the music of that train ! * 
 
 Long stretched across the hill and vale, 
 All yelping, yelping on the trail. 
 Now this recalls another scene, 
 When summer spread her carpet green ; 
 
162 The Deer Chase. 
 
 A smaller deer had given chase 
 
 O'er field and fence, tlirongh father's place. 
 
 The dogs were nipping at her heels. 
 
 'T was near the house just in the fields : 
 
 I had two sisters there alone. 
 
 But to the field thev bravelv ran. 
 
 They reached the spot, the deer was down. 
 
 And, in excitement, now said one : 
 
 '' Oh. cut its throat ! Be quick ! be quick !*' 
 She cut across, then tried to stick ; 
 But, oh I the deer began to bawl. 
 She ran and screamed, climbed fences tall, 
 And threw the bloody knife away. 
 And lost her courage to this day. 
 
Good Seed. 163 
 
 [Presented to Mrs. John Booth.] 
 
 Good seed sown on the earth 
 
 Shall ever bloom in heaven ; 
 
 And while eternity rolls on 
 
 Grow more beautiful and lovely, 
 
 Variegating its tints 
 
 With the golden skies 
 
 Of the heavenly world, 
 
 While the everlasting fountain, 
 
 Which flows from the throne of God;, 
 
 Shall lift its golden spray 
 
 In heavenly clouds, 
 
 To fall like dew-drops 
 
 On the never withering bloom 
 
 Which shall live forever and ever. 
 
164 Lazy John. 
 
 I met Miss Lily in the rain ; 
 
 Her cheeks were fair and bright, 
 And Cupid's arrow caused a pain — 
 
 I loved her dear at sight. 
 
 She smiled a little as we passed ; 
 
 My heart could not refrain, 
 I loved her first, I loved her last, 
 
 I loved her in the rain. 
 
 I met Miss Lily's mother, then. 
 Her friendship wished to gain ; 
 
 I told her I was Lily's friend, 
 I met her in the rain. 
 
 She gave a look Til ne'er forget ; 
 
 " Do you mean to offend "? 
 I fear, dear sir, you're too much set ; 
 
 Such rain-beau is no friend." 
 
Christian Soldiers. 165 
 
 We're a band of Christian soldiers, 
 
 Now enlisted for the war ; 
 On the wheels of time are rolling 
 
 To the land of light afar ; 
 We shall fear no cannon's rattle, 
 
 For our banner is unfurled, 
 And our General rules the battle 
 
 Through the nations of the world. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Then march along, happy throng — make no delay ; 
 Call those by the wayside while it's called to-day ; 
 Go tell them we are soldiers fighting for the Lord, 
 And if they join our army they shall have the great reward. 
 
 Yes, the teachers are our captains. 
 
 And the school an army strong ; 
 Though our foe's arrayed in battle, 
 
 Yet we fearless march along; 
 And we'll say to heathen nations, 
 
 Come and join our army, too, 
 For this land is not our station. 
 
 But we have a land in view. 
 
 Cho. — Then march along, &c. 
 
166 Christian Soldiers. 
 
 From the heathen land of China 
 
 To the wilds of Airic's plain, 
 And through hills and vales of Syria, 
 
 We should lengthen out our chain ; 
 By the mission work our army 
 
 May unfold her banners there, 
 And the heathen souls of darkness 
 
 May unite with us in prayer. 
 
 Cho. — Then march along, &c. 
 
 Then awake, O ye that slumber! 
 
 Be ye always at your post, 
 And we'll swell this happy number, 
 
 Seeking Heaven's boundless coast; 
 For our home's beyond the river, 
 
 Where no sorrows ever come ; 
 In that long and bright forever 
 
 We shall rest with Christ at home. 
 
 Cho, — Then march along, &c. 
 
 ^y^ 
 
A Happy Dream. 167 
 
 In shades of night a happy dream 
 
 Once led me back to youthful days ; 
 And in the ball-room beauty seemed 
 
 To flash with smiles and grand displays. 
 A cousin there I gladly met, 
 
 With blooming cheeks and sparkling eyes ; 
 A tender glance, expression sweet, 
 
 And love which from all innocence rise. 
 
 And we of course have not grown old ; 
 
 We've simply slept thirty-five years ; 
 The love we knew has not grown cold. 
 
 But wakes with joy and loving tears. 
 She meets me with a loving smile, 
 
 We dance as oft we danced before ; 
 We love, but not in cupid's style — 
 
 To meet the Parson on the floor. 
 
 Yet we are single all the while. 
 
 And talk of those we love so dear ; 
 
 And have no secrets of a style 
 Too good for each other to hear ; 
 
 And so we turn the golden page. 
 And there we find a written line ; 
 
168 A Happy Dream. 
 
 "To my beloved I'm engaged;" 
 
 "And so," says she, "I am to mine." 
 
 So at this little secret glance 
 
 "We both are more than happy still. 
 The floor much softer for the dance, 
 
 The music carries us at will; 
 But we would gladly leave the floor 
 
 And talk of prospects sure and bright, 
 T\Tien we should push from ofi" the shore 
 
 "With double oar and boat so light. 
 
 But, that fair angel, whom I loved, 
 
 Had winged away to some bright shore, 
 And in the happy crowd I moved, 
 
 "Was still alone, while on the floor. 
 My hope was bright that we should meet 
 
 On some fair shore of wedded bliss. 
 Where golden sands might pave her street, 
 
 And lips should meet no parting kiss. 
 
 I then stepped back from out the dream ; 
 
 My heart was beating quick and warm ; 
 The embers cast a timid gleam ; 
 
 My angel's wing wrapped round my arm. 
 The sands of life had rolled away. 
 
 The years that stopped were in the dream 
 They'd left their trail of silvery gray, 
 In them my cousin had not seen. 
 
This World's Riches. 169 
 
 You may boast of your mountains, 
 
 Your valleys behold ; 
 Of your herds and your fountains, 
 
 Your silver and gold; 
 Of your million-built hall. 
 
 Your cars on the rail. 
 Your monuments tall. 
 
 Your vessels on sail. 
 
 Of your factory and mill. 
 
 Your cities and town. 
 Your gold in the hills. 
 
 Where riches abound ; 
 Of the smooth, fertile plains. 
 
 Which spread in the West, 
 And imagine all gains 
 
 As riches and rest. 
 
 But 'tis all vain delusion ; 
 
 Each gem has a snare, 
 A fear of intrusion, 
 
 A sting or a care ; 
 For the only true wealth 
 
 This world can define. 
 With a share of good health, 
 
 Is contentment of mind. 
 
170 The Lonesome Chief. 
 
 In days gone by, long years ago, 
 
 A little crew sought for this land ; 
 Their vessel sailed for weal or woe, 
 
 Yet enterprise was great and grand ; 
 And lo ! they found the gloomy shore, 
 
 The home of unknown savage man, 
 Which the dark forest clustered o'er 
 
 From western gulfs to eastern sand. 
 
 'Twas when the little winding streams. 
 
 In lonesome murmurs, found their way 
 Through shady groves, where sunlight beams 
 
 Had never poured their golden ray ; 
 And when the song of spring-time birds 
 
 AYere only heard by savage man. 
 And when wild beasts, in groups and herds. 
 
 Were chased by yelling Indian bands. 
 
 The chief then bartered with the whites. 
 And sold his birthright for a bribe ; 
 
 Released to them his forest rights. 
 To seek the West with all his tribe ; 
 
 They roamed the Mississippi wild, 
 Exposed to death by winter's blast ; 
 
The Lonesome Chief. 171 
 
 Their chief survived with but his child, 
 Who drooped in spring and died at last. 
 
 When he had hollowed out the bed 
 
 That soon must hide that lovely face, 
 He gazed upon the sleeping dead, 
 
 The fairest bloom of all his race, 
 Then kissed and laid her in the tomb ; 
 
 She was his last and only friend ; 
 And then he thought of childhood home 
 
 And what must shortly be his end. 
 
 Again he sought the sea-wave home, 
 
 The home his father's birthright gave. 
 And there in tattered rags he roamed, 
 
 Where once he sported with the brave ; 
 And then, with bitterness of soul. 
 
 His last and loud complaints were made, 
 While standing 'neath the oaks of old, 
 
 Where wigwam beds in youth were laid : 
 
 "You drove me from my native wild. 
 
 And slew the forest that I loved, 
 And now my wife and only child 
 
 Camp in yon moon, 'mid stars above ; 
 And I, with burning tears, now stand 
 
 To view my childhood's landscape o'er, 
 Where all my tribe went heart and hand 
 
 When first I knew this forest shore. 
 
172 
 
 The Lonesome Chief. 
 
 " You drove us from yon seaside wave, 
 
 That beautiful and lovely sea ; 
 You drove us to the icy grave, 
 
 Where all have sipped death's cup but me ; 
 And soon I too must follow on, 
 
 To scale the hills of yonder moon, 
 Which is our destined hunting-ground ; 
 
 There all must greet old chieftain soon." 
 
MISS LENO BELLE. 
 
 [ m] 
 
Leno Belle. 176 
 
 gjertjcr %tXXz. 
 
 [Dedicated to her brother, Hon. William Jeffrey.] 
 
 The sun swept o'er hills far away, 
 
 And morning splendor, bright as gold, 
 Then painted nature with display 
 
 Far as the eye can e'er behold ; 
 The silvery dew-drops kissed the rose. 
 
 Then slyly stole within its fold 
 To wake it from its sweet repose 
 
 And variegate with rainbow gold. 
 
 The birds sang sweetly in the trees. 
 
 And mournfully complained th® dove — 
 One representing life and ease, 
 
 One representing loss of love ; 
 All mingling sounds and lovely scenes 
 
 Eefreshed the shades on memory's wall, 
 "When school of youth was ever green, 
 
 And Belle wore charms for one and all. 
 
 Alone I stood amid the tombs, 
 
 Where sods were turned years long ago ; 
 The heaping turf beneath the bloom 
 
 Inclosed the sleeping dust below ; 
 
176 Leno Belle. 
 
 I read each stone with lifted head, 
 
 AV^hich bore each name in letters small; 
 
 But one I sought among the dead, 
 Just one alone, and that was all. 
 
 My search was long and seemed in vain, 
 
 And I had changed my course to go ; 
 Unconscious steps led back again, 
 
 Ah ! why it was I do not know ; 
 Impressions more than words could speak 
 
 Then led me to a distant stone. 
 And thus the name I there would seek 
 
 Mysteriously to me was shown. 
 
 "What fairy hand had led me there, 
 
 Ah ! I can never tell ; 
 But 'twas the name of the once fair 
 
 In school, the charming Leno Belle ; 
 And though the flight of time had marked 
 
 Three years upon her lonely grave, 
 And sealed that form deep in the dark, 
 
 Yet left a pang for beauty's slave. 
 
Eclipse of the jSuti, August 7, 1869. 177 
 
 JgjcXiprsje of tUz MnxXf ^UQUsi 7, X869. 
 
 The sun now hung a golden fringe, 
 Around the edges of the moon, 
 
 And cast a shadow dark and dinge 
 
 When shades of night were not in tune. 
 
 The stars looked through a gauzy veil, 
 Dim shadows walked like ghosts at night. 
 
 And darkness spread o'er hill and dale ; 
 The heavens burnt a hidden light. 
 
 The earth grew strangely pale and faint. 
 The trees wore robes of millet-green. 
 
 The hills wore crowns like tints of paint, 
 The rich-clad valleys trailed between. 
 
 The birds now sung their evening song. 
 The chickens bid the day good-bye. 
 
 The night-owl hooted gruff and strong. 
 Because the moon was in the sky. 
 
 But soon swept on a daybreak scene ; 
 
 The fowls and birds saw their mistake ; 
 The earth awoke and dressed in green, 
 
 The stars went out, 'twas then daybreak. 
 
 12 
 
178 
 
 JEcUpse of the Su7i, August 7, 1869, 
 
 The owl went back to bed again, 
 The rooster blew his daybreak horn, 
 
 The birds sang sweet o'er hill and glen, 
 And three P. M. was then the morn. 
 
The Warrior's Forest Home. 179 
 
 Mr. Wm. F. Davis, the warrior referred to in the following poem, 
 was the father of the writer. He served in the War 1812, in the 
 command of General Harrison. 
 
 [Dedicated to President Harrison,] 
 
 The deathly clash of war had ceased, 
 
 The Britain boys had left the shore ; 
 The boys of '12 were all released, 
 
 The cannon's belch was heard no more, 
 A soldier left the stage of war 
 
 To seek a home 'mid forest gloom. 
 Where oaks eclipsed the morning star, 
 
 And savage beasts had made their home. 
 
 A wild romantic woodland scene, 
 
 Where crystal waters murmured low, 
 And mountain peaks were ever green 
 
 Through autumn days and winter's snow. 
 No mark of skill in all that land. 
 
 No woodsman knew the winding stream, 
 But shadows fell so thick and grand. 
 
 The scene was more a fairy dream. 
 
180 The Warrior's Forest Home. 
 
 That valley was the panther's home, 
 
 And once the red man's hunting ground, 
 Where squaws and warriors used to roam, 
 
 And where their weapons still are found. 
 There elk and deer, wild cats and bear. 
 
 Grey fox and wolves were found ; 
 The mink, the otter, coon and hare, 
 
 Red fox and squirrel, also abound. 
 
 And yet that lone ax-stroke was heard. 
 
 And giant oaks fell to the ground, 
 And soon a cabin-hut was reared 
 
 Amid the gloom that hung around. 
 The warrior, with his deathly gun, 
 
 Re-echoed thunder through that land; 
 But still the wolves refused to run 
 
 Until they saw the fiery brand. 
 
 With hideous howls they oft would come, 
 
 When sheep were in their rugged pen. 
 And force the dogs to seek a home, 
 
 Then storm the fort within the glen. 
 The old cock blew his daybreak horn, 
 
 The hoot-owl heard his homespun note. 
 And then away, in early morn. 
 
 To seize and cut the stranger's throat. 
 
 But soon the varmints' grand retreat 
 Were rolling fields of golden grain, 
 
The Warrior' 8 Forest Home. 181 
 
 And garden beds were blooming sweet 
 Where giant oaks had just been slain. 
 
 Though first to mark and pave the way 
 In all that lonely vale of gloom, 
 
 That warrior lived, when old and gray, 
 And still that spot was then his home. 
 
 'T was my dear home in childhood's day; 
 
 There sweetly sung the lark at dawn, 
 When all the fields were green in May, 
 
 And frogs were croaking in the pond. 
 The pheasant hid within the vale, 
 
 And bravely beat his morning drum ; 
 WTiile in the stubble perched the quail 
 
 That whistled round my cottage home. 
 
 How dear those childhood scenes are now — 
 
 The old gnarled oak, the grassy field, 
 The orchard 'neath the mountain brow. 
 
 The little brook and shady mill. 
 The barn, the crib, the mossy well. 
 
 The cottage home, the crystal stream, 
 The song of birds, the distant beU — 
 
 Now seems as but a placid dream. 
 
182 In Heaven we Shall See Them. 
 
 [Two children of the author, Ida V. and Emerson B.] 
 
 A beauteous child was Ida V., 
 
 Whose dust now in the grave-yard lies ; 
 Her rosy cheeks were fair to see, 
 
 And bright as stars her dark blue eyes, 
 And softly curled her golden hair. 
 
 Like gilded clouds in distant skies ; 
 But sadly now her vacant chair 
 
 Stands em^^ty, since its owner dies. 
 
 Like music soft, we heard her voice, 
 
 Like angel fair, we saw her form 
 In childish play and sport rejoice ; 
 
 Alas ! from us too soon she's torn. 
 Oh ! could we see that dimpled hand. 
 
 Those pleading looks, which haunt us still, 
 As she asked her mamma, from the pan 
 
 Her little painted cup to fill. 
 
 Where are the toys with which she played, 
 Where are her little hat and dress? 
 
 Her toys are in the drawer laid, 
 
 With hat and shoes, and all the rest. 
 
 I know for her we shall not weep, 
 For doubtless she has gone to rest ; 
 
In Heaven we Shall See Them. 183 
 
 Her soul in silence doth, not sleep — 
 
 God called her home, He thought it best. 
 
 Again, a dark and lonely night, 
 
 When earth and air were hushed and still. 
 In shades of gloom and dim moonlight, 
 
 Again death's cup for us was filled. 
 Around the snow-white couch we stood. 
 
 And watched the cheeks in death turn pale, 
 And tried in vain to give relief. 
 
 And call him back from out the vale. 
 
 A lovely boy, two summers' old, 
 
 Then passed from us and earth away ; 
 How soon the treasures which we hold. 
 
 Slip from our grasp, and seek decay! 
 But faith beholds these loved ones fair. 
 
 Those Jewels which our hearts have worn, 
 Transformed into a lovely pair 
 
 Of angels, near the Father's throne. 
 
 It sees them walk the gold-paved streets. 
 
 In robes of glory, hand in hand. 
 And, with the sainted ones, there meet 
 
 Who long before passed to that land. 
 It sees their glory-gilded wings, 
 
 Their golden harps and starry crowns. 
 And hears the peaceful songs they sing. 
 
 Where toil and pain no more are found. 
 
184 Autumn Days. 
 
 [Dedicated to My Youngest Daughter, Ethel.] 
 
 [" Oh! sing to me of Autumn days, 
 The crowning beauties of the year, 
 
 Where eyes can feast upon the haze 
 Of gold and crimson, green and sear."] 
 
 How can we sing of Autumn days, 
 When Nature robes herself to die, 
 
 Though beauty crowns the morning rays, 
 And gold-tipped mountains kiss the skyi 
 
 But who could sing of beauty now, 
 Without a sadness in the soul? 
 
 When hills must fade from foot to brow. 
 And dross replenish crowns of gold. 
 
 True, beauty lingers on each hill, 
 And fills the soul with pure delight ; 
 
 But there's a thought, far deeper still : 
 The brightest ray must end in night. 
 
 The crimson hills and mountains high, 
 With tints of gold and blendings green, 
 
 The painter's art do all defy — 
 
 'Twould blush to even sketch the scene. 
 
Autumn Days. 186 
 
 But Nature has an artist old, 
 
 AVho, with a finger's touch of snow, 
 
 He sprinkles earth and tints it gold, 
 And paints the hills and valleys low. 
 
 But soon must all this blush of gold 
 And fleecy robe, that touch the sky. 
 
 Fall at the feet of those of old, 
 
 And Nature's beauty then must die. 
 
 The author of the above lines resides in the mountains of West 
 Virginia, the sceneiy of which conduces to the lofty flights of sub- 
 lime imagery. The soul is there ever thrilled by those scenes which 
 superinduce poetry and oratory. — Tom Wash Smith, in the Balti- 
 more Herald. 
 
186 Payton^s Ride. 
 
 ^a:gt0n^j5 glide. 
 
 [Dedicated to Mr. Tom Wash Smith, Editor of The Baltimore Herald 1 
 
 Far up the stream a hero stood, 
 While crushing, rumbhng, came the flood; 
 With steed at hand he mounted high, 
 Down, down the stream he raised the cry : 
 " Fly for your life ! the flood is nigh ! 
 The lake's death-wave is rolling high!" 
 On, on he rode, with fearless speed, 
 While frothing, foaming, flew his steed. 
 
 Swift on his track came rumbling sounds ; 
 High on the waves came floating towns. 
 With living, dying, and the dead. 
 And shrieking, crying, on they sped. 
 The hero's horse, with swift-plied feet, 
 Flew wildly thro' the Johnstown streets ; 
 "The dam has burst!" he loudly cried, 
 "And towns are floating on the tide ! 
 
 " Fly for your life! the river's wrath 
 Is sweeping down a deadly path !" 
 And onward flew the hatless man ; 
 "Fly for your life! the flood's at hand!" 
 
Payton^s Ride. 187 
 
 The surging crowd rushed out to see 
 Who this wild maniac could be ; 
 No one knew him, but some few fled, 
 While others, smiling, felt no dread. 
 
 A clash ! a rush ! a sullen roar ! 
 
 Down on the town mad waters pour. 
 
 Strong buildings, like a flimsy shell, 
 
 Went crushing as the current fell, 
 
 And, in the twinkling of an eye, 
 
 A myriad victims, doomed to die, 
 
 Were struggling 'gainst the foaming wrath 
 
 Which swallowed all within its path. 
 
 Fine parlors, halls, and pleasant homes. 
 Were swept like chaff out on the foam. 
 Rich daughters grasped their bonds and chains. 
 And diamond rings, and life-time gains ; 
 And lovely mothers, young and fair. 
 And aged ones, with silvery hair — 
 All struggling in the deathly waves 
 Which dealt no mercy for its slaves. 
 
 A rumbling roar, a grinding sound ; 
 
 He turned his steed from ill-fate ground. 
 
 And urged him on for nearest hills — 
 
 But waves had crushed the town and mills, 
 
 And swept them on tornado speed, 
 
 And swallowed up the foaming steed. 
 
188 JPayton^s Ride. 
 
 Brave herald, horse, and all, went down 
 With ruins of the late Johnstown. 
 
 "God save the rider!" the people cried, 
 As he went flying down the tide. 
 The prayer was heard — the angry wave 
 Relaxed its grip, gave up the brave 
 Who risked his life to warn the town, 
 That they might flee, tho' he be drowned. 
 A nobler act, or famous deed, 
 Was never known on ship or steed. 
 
 America should stamp three crowns — 
 
 One for Sheridan, one for Collens Gray, 
 And one for Payton, who warned the towns 
 
 When a myriad souls were swept away. 
 Let history now record his name — 
 
 A Paul Revere, a hero brave, 
 Who caps the pinnacle of fame 
 
 By swift-plied feet before the wave. 
 
 Mr. Davis has a true harp somewhere in the reverberating valley 
 of his mountain home. He writes poetry as naturally as a brook 
 rolls along to a cascade, some of which will live when he has passed 
 away. The fearless rider who carried the signal of danger to the 
 innocent victims, all unconscious of impending woe, will go into his- 
 tory as imperishable as the unwritten law of human emotion. So 
 long as the heart-beats count quicker numbers at the recital of deeds 
 of daring, just so long will this herald of danger be on the tongue of 
 thrilling stories, and that means forever, or as long as time knows 
 her calendar. Mr. Davis gives out a hint which no doubt is in 
 
JPayton's Ride. 
 
 189 
 
 crayon sketches in many a studio in this broad domain, even while 
 he writes of it. We do not have on our walls the portrait of any hero 
 of ancient or modem times. "VVe worship God, and not man or mam- 
 mon. But when the painter gives us the picture of that messenger 
 riding to his death, for aught he knew, that others might live, we 
 want a copy of that man on the foaming steed, whose deep pathos is 
 the strongest evidence of the heart that is filled with rapturous con- 
 cern for the weal of others; and that interest is above estimate, for 
 it is the affinity, or kinship, of man with his Maker, or as the theo- 
 logian would tell you, the full com in the ear.^Tom Wash Smith, in 
 The Baltimore Herald. 
 
190 The Lonely Window. 
 
 ["The Lonely Window " and "The Answer" is a portion of a play 
 written by the author of this book, in which Mrs. Taylor "Ward, 
 (then about twenty-one years of age), represented "Nellie," and in 
 which she showed remarkable talent for the stage. The writer of 
 the play represented " Col. Whitaker;" " Nellie" and himself taking 
 the leading parts, assisted by twenty-two ladies and gentlemen. The 
 play represented the separation, the absence of three years, and the 
 return.] 
 
 [Dedicated to IVIrs. Taylor Ward.] 
 
 By the lonely window sit I here 
 
 And listen to the autumn sigh, 
 "While shining hosts of stars so fair, 
 
 Bedeck the soft ethereal sky ; 
 Their beauties caU to mind again 
 
 The absent friend, so dear to me, 
 Which fills my lonely heart with pain, 
 
 And wafts my thoughts across the sea. 
 
 I watch the slowly setting sun. 
 
 And hail with joy the morning ray. 
 
 Each moment nearmg your return ; 
 Thus time drags wearily away ; 
 
 And when alone I think of thee. 
 
 And pray that God may spare yoiir life, 
 
The Lonely Window. 191 
 
 And guide you safely back to me — 
 Your lonely friend, your faithful wife. 
 
 And in the silent shades of night, 
 
 When gilded moon shines soft and fair. 
 In some bright dream again take flight 
 
 To China — for my heart is there. 
 But when I waken from my dream 
 
 I find a lonely, vacant chair ; 
 Oh ! could I fly across the stream. 
 
 How gladly would I meet you there. 
 
 The Answer — Song of the Shipwkeck. 
 
 'Twas calm and still upon the sea, 
 
 Blue skies without a cloud, 
 And all on board sang merrily 
 
 While through the deep we plowed; 
 But soon we saw terrific clouds 
 
 And vivid lightning flash ; 
 
 'Neath thunder's howl the ocean bow'd, 
 
 And waves began to splash ; 
 Then midnight darkness 
 
 Eclipsed the noonday sun, 
 While mountain waves came rolling back, 
 
 And lo ! our sails were gone. 
 
 But still we heard the thunder's roar 
 Amid the wind-torn clouds, 
 
192 The Lonely Wificlow. 
 
 While rain in torrents downward pour'd, 
 
 And every knee was bow'd; 
 "We sank beneath the rolling waves, 
 
 Which swept our naked deck, 
 Then rose again, and all were saved. 
 
 Though but a fearful wreck; 
 Then raging billows 
 
 Swept us on the shore. 
 It seem'd that all the timbers broke 
 
 Amid one crash and roar. 
 
 We drifted there upon the shore, 
 
 T\Tien starving seem'd our doom. 
 It was an isle where long before 
 
 A crew was left to roam ; 
 Their bleaching bones were near the wreck, 
 
 Their sails had crumbled down, 
 And just beneath the shattered deck 
 
 Their pearls and gold were found. 
 Oh ! horrid picture, 
 
 Which hangs on that dread shore, 
 It seemed our doom was sure the same 
 
 (Three hundred men or more). 
 
 For days we watched the rolling sea, 
 With but scant rations drawn, 
 
 When lo ! the flag of liberty 
 Was seen in early dawn ; 
 
13 
 
 The Lonely Window. 
 
 They were my faithful navy boys 
 
 In search of our lost crew, 
 AVhose hearts were glad and full of joy 
 
 When near our wreck they drew. 
 Out on the ocean 
 
 Again we quickly sailed, 
 With milk and wine our bowls to fill, 
 
 While we rove through the gale. 
 
 We then returned to China's shore 
 
 With gems which we had found 
 While on this isle, where long before 
 
 A wreck was thrown aground. 
 But now my thoughts return to thee ; 
 
 Sure I would give my gold 
 To hear thee speak one word to me 
 
 Or half thy charms behold. 
 Oh ! dearest Nellie, 
 
 Do not weep for me. 
 The time is short when I again 
 
 Your lovely face shall see. 
 
 My dearest wife, weep not for me, 
 
 My stay will soon be o'er, 
 Then I shall plow the rolling sea 
 
 To my loved native shore. 
 I long to meet with you, my dear, 
 
 Thy lovely features trace, 
 
194 The Lonely Whidovj. 
 
 And wipe away tlie briny tears 
 That stealeth down tiiy face. 
 
 Then, dearest Nellie, 
 Do not weep for me. 
 
 My vessel soon shall plow again 
 The rough and rolhEg sea. 
 
Dear Bessie of Ohio. 195 
 
 Now, boys and girls, this is for you, 
 And sure it is a story true, 
 The cause for it we could not tell — 
 Perhaps some owl knew very well. 
 'Twas night, and I accompanied late 
 Miss Bessie, of Ohio State. 
 Dear Bessie was a pretty girl, 
 I loved her best in all the world. 
 
 As I was young and knew no better, 
 And she disposed to chat still later, 
 My love grew deeper all the while— 
 For she was witty, and dressed in style- 
 And on her smiles she wore a charm. 
 Which plainly said she knew no harm ; 
 So Cupid's arrow, first and last, 
 Had pierced my heart and bound it fast. 
 
 For hours the folks had gone to bed — 
 Her mother's room just over head — 
 The clock had marked the hour of ten, 
 When flying, squalling, came a hen, 
 Came dashing 'gainst the parlor door ; 
 Then all was still, we heard no more ; 
 
196 Dear Bessie of Ohio. 
 
 A flying turkey thumped the wall, 
 And on the ground we heard it fall. 
 
 Another fell, thump ! in the yard. 
 Her mother screamed, "Oh, my dear Lord! 
 For God's sake, Bessie, go and see 
 What all that clattering can be ! " 
 Then flying guineas made such a noise, 
 Disturbed the slumber of the boys ; 
 With lamp in hand they all came down, 
 Old lady in a long white gown. 
 
 Then Bessie, dear, to my surprise. 
 
 Hung her sweet hands close o'er my eyes ; 
 
 But in the yard they hunted 'round, 
 
 And turkeys, chickens, guineas found ; 
 
 Some were dead and some were dying, 
 
 Others squalling, others flying ; 
 
 But, all in all, it was a time 
 
 I never told, but now, in ryhme. 
 
 But, as the ages creep along, 
 I place dear Bessie in my song, 
 And take a glimpse back in the past. 
 When loved her first and loved her last. 
 Did I go back, you mean to say? 
 Oh no ! ne'er saw her from that day, 
 But often wished to be surprised 
 By her sweet hands hung o'er my eyes. 
 
Dear Bessie of Ohio. 197 
 
 But then, perhaps, if we should meet, 
 The fowls might flutter at our feet, 
 A sacrificial offer make. 
 To mean their dying for our sake ; 
 But let the cause be what it might. 
 The trouble came that fatal night, 
 And we took warning, there and then. 
 To never, never meet again. 
 
 Now, boys, this is a hint for you, 
 And sure it is a story true. 
 For Cupid's arrow, like a dart. 
 Goes piercing thro' the youthful heart, 
 But leaves behind a road of thorns. 
 Never stops and never warns. 
 But, like the story I have told, 
 Oft leaves its victims in the cold. 
 
 You know the welcome strains of our Highland friend, whose 
 sougs are so full of pathos and happy symphony. "We wish he would 
 write more frequently. — Tom Wash Smith, in The Baltimore Herald. 
 
198 Centennial Years. 
 
 ©jerttjenixiaX '^z'^xs. 
 
 [Dedicated to My Son-in-Law, Attorney A. L. Taylor.] 
 
 As time moves on, from stage to stage, 
 
 The great events of years gone by 
 Live in tlie heart of this great age 
 
 As treasured gifts from God on high. 
 Centennial Year of Seventy-six 
 
 Was crowned with arts from all the world, 
 And kings and statesmen intermixed 
 
 'Neath freedom's flag, proudly unfurled. 
 
 And all the nations, far and near, 
 
 Loaned helping hands to celebrate 
 Events of that Centennial Year 
 
 Which formed the great United States. 
 Our flag, in years one hundi^ed old, 
 
 There waved o'er greatest skill on earth, 
 While kingly nations, grand and old, 
 
 Were dross beside our nation's worth. 
 
 The Corliss, run by Fulton's steam, 
 The nations spoke by Morse's wire ; 
 
 Now Edison sends a wond'rous gleam 
 More brilliant than the sun or fire. 
 
Centennial Years. 199 
 
 The crown is due Columbia's land 
 For use of steam and lightning wire, 
 
 The telephone, from Edison's hand, 
 And city lights by friction fire. 
 
 The next in turn comes Eighty-Nine, 
 
 The President Centennial Year, 
 Events of which may now remind 
 
 The Revolutionary tear. 
 'Twas then the mighty hero came 
 
 Who led the great victorious war — 
 He figured high in national fame 
 
 To shield the flag which bore the stars. 
 
 He comes through towns ablaze with fire, 
 
 His path is strewn with maiden's flowers, 
 Triumphant arches fringed on wire, 
 
 In honor of the eventful hours. 
 He comes, the mighty Father comes, 
 
 Vast armies crowd and cannons roar. 
 The way is cheered by fife and drum 
 
 And armies that he led before. 
 
 He comes — he steps upon the stage. 
 He takes the oath as Freedom's King, 
 
 Or Ruler, of that happy age 
 
 When freedom's songs began to ring. 
 
 He comes — four million freemen stand 
 To welcome him who victories won. 
 
200 Centennial Years. 
 
 And severed Britain's iron band — 
 He comes — and lo ! 'tis Washington ! 
 
 And now the Century Year is done ; 
 
 A sixty million nation hails 
 With pride the day its years begun, 
 
 When Federal Hall the Chief unveiled. 
 From thence the national sky was clear, 
 
 The ship, complete, launched on the seas, 
 And now she's sailed one hundred years. 
 
 With victory crowning every breeze. 
 
 All hail! Columbia's Freedom hail! 
 
 Let now another century run, 
 And may the ship stem every gale 
 
 And warlike storm that clouds her sun, 
 Till kingly crowns shall rust and fall, 
 
 And monarchs blush with national shame. 
 And may the Goddess grow so tall 
 
 That all the world may see the flame. 
 
Discovery of Elk Greek. 201 
 
 Through dreamy woods two hunters strolled, 
 
 Where man had never trod before, 
 And through the forest, gray and old, 
 
 A river bent around the shore ; 
 And as they neared the silvery stream, 
 
 They looked down thro' the mossy wood, 
 And in the centre of the scene 
 
 A herd of forest cattle stood. 
 
 The woodsman fired; one, bleedings fell; 
 
 They slightly stirred, but no alarm, 
 Whence came the roar they could not tell, 
 
 But never dreamed of slightest harm. 
 They knew not death by weapons small ; 
 
 They often heard the thunders roar. 
 And rumbling timbers as they fell — 
 
 But deadly rifles, ne'er before. 
 
 Again they fired, and still they fell ; 
 
 They heard their bleeding comrades groan, 
 But how came death they could not tell. 
 
 Yet all the herd was dead save one ; 
 He shook his woolly mane and fled, 
 
 Affrighted by the odious smell. 
 
202 I>iscov€ry of Kl.lx Cretk. 
 
 But cii'cled round his bleeding dead ; 
 The woodsman hred. the seventh fell. 
 
 And then they neaped the river's shore, 
 
 ^Miich bent its course thi'o' forests deep. 
 Where man had never roamed before. 
 
 And all the forests seemed to sleep. 
 The timbers bent far o'er the stream, 
 
 And clustered dovrn the rustic shore, 
 The noon-day sun vras but a gleam 
 
 Tkrough forest shades in streaks to pour. 
 
 •'Hoo. hoo-hoo. hoo. wah!" cried the owl. 
 
 Arousing from his sleepy den : 
 The woK had raised a hideous howl. 
 
 The panther screamed at sight of men : 
 Thousands of years those vales had slept, 
 
 Yet murmuring rivers still had flown, 
 Bright Summer smiled and "Winters swept 
 
 O'er lands of mineral, oil and stone. 
 
Son Billy. 203 
 
 J0rt gtXXB* 
 
 When scorcliiiig fever seized my head, 
 
 Son Billy kindly came to me, 
 He thought it was my dying bed, 
 
 And he a farm could plainly see. 
 "Dear father, how are you'?" he said; 
 
 "Do you my aid or presence need? " 
 He knew of my unconscious head — 
 
 He asked me then to make a deed. 
 
 I knew not what my hand had done 
 
 Until m}^ raging fever ceased ; 
 Ah! soon my troubles then begun, 
 
 And long adieu was bid to peace. 
 Son Billy came to me one day — 
 
 'Twas at my quiet home of ease — 
 He told me there I could not stay, 
 
 But pull my stakes and leave the keys. 
 
 I asked Son Billy what he meant, 
 
 Thus driving me from friends and home ? 
 "You have no means to pay your rent. 
 
 So Tom, my son, has fixed to come." 
 I told Son Billy 'twas my home. 
 That I should never, never go. 
 
204 So7i Billy. 
 
 Said he, " My deed has sealed your doom, 
 And I will shortly let you know." 
 
 I asked him what he meant by deed. 
 
 When from his pocket he withdrew 
 A paper, and said, "Now take heed 
 
 While I this writing read to you." 
 "My God!" said I, "is that my hand?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Bill, "'tis even true." 
 "So you are owner of my land. 
 And not a cent to me is due ! " 
 
 I then revealed this to my wife, 
 
 For she was old and feeble, too, 
 And had no means to sustain life, 
 
 And not a cent to her was due ; 
 But yet Son Billy drove us out 
 
 To seek a home where'er we could ; 
 We knew not how to go about 
 
 To beg for lodging, clothes and food. 
 
 But friends then told us what to do : 
 
 We sued Son Billy for our farm ; 
 And then he said, " Now, as 'tis^ you, 
 
 I'll feed and clothe you ; fear no harm." 
 So Tom gave up our house again. 
 
 And gladly we returned once more ; 
 But Billy still kept all our land, 
 
 And used us worse than e'er before. 
 
Son Billy. 205 
 
 For years we lived in sore distress, 
 
 Half-clothed, half-fed ; and Billy said 
 It cost too much to keep us dressed, 
 
 And often wished we both were dead. 
 My wife was good and kind to me, 
 
 Provided meals as best she could, 
 But tears would start sometimes at tea. 
 
 When table scant before us stood. 
 
 At last wife's son, who knew the way 
 
 Son Billy always treated us, 
 Came for my dear to go away, 
 
 And rid her of the lasting fuss. 
 I could not say, " dear wife, don't go;" 
 
 No, I preferred -to die alone, 
 That we might not grieve Billy so 
 
 To dig both graves and spare the room. 
 
 My life was spent a home to gain, 
 
 But now, because my head is gray, 
 A bed of thorns to ease my pain, 
 
 A frown, a curse, a rent to pay. 
 The heathen mobs respect gray hairs, 
 
 The savage beasts have hearts within, 
 But aged parents, bent with cares, 
 
 Are drove from home without a sin. 
 
206 Kitty and the Mouse, 
 
 4 
 
 liitivi and thz "^onsz. 
 
 " Oil ! ma, my little kitty 
 
 To-day brought in a mice, 
 It never looked so pretty, 
 
 And never played so nice. 
 The mouse would skip around, 
 
 My kitty then would run 
 And box the fellow down, 
 
 Yet did it all in fun. 
 
 " The mouse was swift to learn, 
 
 And then it stood on end, 
 And tried to box in turn. 
 
 Himself thus to defend. 
 I wish you'd seen it, ma. 
 
 For it from end to end 
 "Was less than kitty's paw. 
 
 Yet ready to defend. 
 
 " I'm sure my kitty laughed. 
 
 To see its tiny feet 
 Half-lifted, in behalf 
 
 The fate it feared to meet. 
 Then mousey bounced around, 
 
 And kitty boxed his tail, 
 
Kitty and the Mouse. 
 
 But soon a hole was found, 
 
 And mouse slipped Kitty's nail. 
 
 " Poor kitty looked so bad, 
 
 I'm sure t'was almost sick, 
 But I was really glad 
 
 The mouse had played the trick, 
 For cruel little kitty. 
 
 It loves to skip and play, 
 And never stops to pity 
 
 Whate'er should be its prey." 
 
 207 
 
208 On Receiving Her Picture. 
 
 [Dedicated to Mrs. Brell Corpning.] 
 
 Alas ! Earth's brightest gem is gone ; 
 
 And once again the tolling bell 
 For her was rung, so loud and long, 
 
 The mountains echoed back farewell. 
 
 While sadness filled the dreamy air, 
 And fields of nature seemed to mourn, 
 
 Because the belle of all the fair 
 
 From earth and friends away was torn. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! she sleepeth now. 
 
 Amid the tombs beneath the clay, 
 
 While golden locks bedeck the brow. 
 So pale and fleeting fast away. 
 
 This mirrowed shadow of that form, 
 Though sweetly fair, with ringlets gold, 
 
 Is but a feint of nature's charm. 
 With eyes revealing love untold. 
 
 Oh, piercing eyes ! my very soul 
 
 Now shrinks beneath thy ardent gaze, 
 
 For all thy charms I still beheld, 
 And read in them of gone-by days. 
 
On Receiving Her Picture. 209 
 
 The days when Cupid's magic power 
 Had stamped this image on my heart, 
 
 And in return that blissful hour, 
 She took with me a lover's part. 
 
 Though lovers still were only friends. 
 
 Yet of a stamp forever true. 
 But fate decrees and friendship ends. 
 
 Still forms appear in brighter hue. 
 
 14 
 
210 Lamentation. 
 
 5£attxentatt0tx. 
 
 [Dedicated to Mrs. Charley Hill, Gallipolis, Ohio,] 
 
 We often shed a burning tear 
 When thinking o'er the past ; 
 
 While friends so dear doth linger near, 
 Sad thoughts come rushing fast. 
 
 Amid the thorny branch we find 
 Sweet flowers fresh and gay ; 
 
 So kindred friends, beloved and kind. 
 Make bright the gloomy day. 
 
 There's something in a kindred love 
 
 That words cannot express ; 
 We feel this pang when dear ones leave — 
 
 Bound for the " Golden West." 
 
 Yet, fated thus, it seems to be 
 
 That friends most dear must part ; 
 
 So chilling sighs are felt for thee, 
 And sadness fills the heart. 
 
 That merry birds may sweetly sing, 
 And flowers look fresh and gay ; 
 
Lamentation. 211 
 
 Yet painful partings leave a sting 
 For time to wear away. 
 
 The rose-tint cloud in beauty swells 
 
 Beneath the starry gleam, 
 Then vanish, like that hope which tells 
 
 Us pleasure's but a dream. 
 
212 The American Eagle. 
 
 The nation's bird a home doth seek 
 
 Where craggy cliffs stand towering high, 
 And honors but the hoary peaks 
 
 That seem to kiss the distant sky ; 
 And when she spreads her golden wings 
 
 To bear her onward through the gale, 
 She soars away beyond the ring 
 
 Of village bells throughout the vale, 
 
 This was her home when heathen gloom 
 
 Had run its course from sea to sea, 
 And nations dreamed there was no room 
 
 To plant a flag of liberty ; 
 But sons of England plowed the wave 
 
 And pitched their tent in heathen lands, 
 While England followed to enslave. 
 
 And bound them with her iron bands. 
 
 In cabin homes for years they dwelt. 
 While bowing to the British crown ; 
 
 Oppression sore long years they felt, 
 Till yielding place no more they found. 
 
 With one accord they boldly spoke, 
 And cried aloud for liberty ; 
 
The American Eagle. 213 
 
 Determined to throw off the yoke, 
 And fighting, die, or else be free. 
 
 With Washington placed at the head, 
 
 The father of our happy land. 
 The starry blue and eagle led 
 
 That gallant little patriot band. 
 They saw old Britain's flashing steel, 
 
 And heard the cannon's sullen roar; 
 Yet dashed they o'er the gory field 
 
 With shouts of " Onward to the shore ! " 
 
 The God of Victory crowned their blows. 
 
 They drove them back o'er land and sea, 
 They humbled low our haughty foes 
 
 And gave this land to liberty. 
 Thus brave and true, with numbers small, 
 
 They drove the British from our shore 
 And raised our eagle banner tall, 
 
 That here shall wave forevermore. 
 
 She led them through the cruel war 
 
 To Victory's undying fame. 
 And then amid the thirteen stars 
 
 She perched to rest and to remain. 
 May God forbid that she shall fall 
 
 Disgracefully and lose her trust, 
 Or freedom's banner, shield of all, 
 
 Be soiled or trampled in the dust. 
 
214 The American Eagle. 
 
 For it protects brave freedom's land, 
 
 The proudest nation in the world ; 
 The States are knit by union band, 
 
 And pledged to keep the stripes unfurled. 
 The roaring tide of wealth rolls on 
 
 From State to State and sea to sea. 
 And as the sun crowns each new dawn 
 
 New millions crown homes of the free. 
 
 "We envy our poet friend; his home is soul-inspiring, and we can- 
 not wonder that he should occasionally strike his harp with metres 
 akin to immortal bards of sculptured fame. — Tom Wash Smith, in 
 The Baltimore Herald. 
 
Tis My Only Kitty, Mother. 215 
 
 Tune— "Infant School." 
 
 Now is it not a pitty 
 
 For a little child as I, 
 To send my little kitty 
 
 Out in the cold to cry? 
 
 Chokus — Oh ! I can't let it go 
 
 Out in the cold and snow ; 
 I love my little kitty so 
 I cannot let her go. 
 
 Oh ! mother, please to let it be, 
 It sings to me so sweet, 
 
 And in the morning you shall see 
 It prance around my feet. 
 
 Cho. — Oh ! I can't let it go, &c. 
 
 It lays its feet upon my breast 
 And sleeps with me content. 
 
 Now, mother, how could kitty rest 
 If in the snow it 's sent ? 
 
 Cho. — Oh ! I can't let her go, &c. 
 
216 Tis My Only Kitty, Mother. 
 
 You know that kitty catches mice 
 Out 'neath the old barn floor, 
 
 Then skips along o'er snow and ice 
 To reach my bed-room door. 
 
 Cho. — Oh! I can't let her go, &c. 
 
 Then cover up your kitty dear, 
 I could not make it go. 
 
 And have my darling waste a tear 
 For kitty in the snow. 
 
 Cho. — No, I can't make it go 
 
 And grieve my darling so ; 
 You love your little kitty so 
 I can't make it go. 
 
 I thank you now, my dearest mother. 
 And kitty thanks you, too. 
 
 For it will sleep with me and brother 
 While papa sleeps with you. 
 
 Cho. — For I can't let it go, &c. 
 
Mystery. 217 
 
 [A scene on the Writer's Farm.] 
 
 A little brook, with beauties grand, 
 
 Comes rippling from a mountain spring, 
 
 And winds its way o'er stone and sand 
 
 Through woods where birds melodious sing. 
 
 Through time unknown to days of man, 
 This murmuring stream has found its way. 
 
 And cut a ravine through the land, 
 A link in nature's grand display. 
 
 And interwoven timber bends 
 In wreathy arches o'er the walls. 
 
 Through which this little brook descends. 
 To make its leap down o'er the falls. 
 
 It rushes down its winding stair, 
 A bold and sparkling silvery sheet ; 
 
 It sends its mist into the air. 
 And forms a rainbow at its feet. 
 
 By little streams the chasm cliff 
 Is worn to grains of drifting sand, 
 
 And angry waters foam and drift 
 
 Through wonderous wall not made by hand. 
 
218 Mystery. 
 
 And man looks back througli time unknown 
 To date the wonderous streamlet hand, 
 
 Which sculptui'ed chasm wall of stone, 
 And wore its chips to grains of sand. 
 
 But could the work a life had done 
 Be seen by eyes of mortal man. 
 
 The sands that crumble one by one 
 Could equal not the busy hand. 
 
 Though life is short, man leaves the stage. 
 As though his wonderous work was done, 
 
 Another man, another age. 
 
 Proves that his work has just begun. 
 
 So hke the mystic cataract stream 
 
 AMiich flows a myriad years through sand, 
 
 The world's adrift by light and stream, 
 The work of ages, brain and hand. 
 
The Man Who Never Stops to Think. 219 
 
 Stxe ^an Wi\io %zvizx Jt^prs to gMtxK. 
 
 The man who never stops to think 
 Nor count the valued time that's lost, 
 
 Oft chews tobacco, smokes or drinks, 
 Kegardless of result or cost. 
 
 The man who never stops to think 
 Just how to manage business best. 
 
 Rush heedless down the ruinous brink 
 Of bankruptcy and unsuccess. 
 
 The man who never stops to think 
 
 How much he spends or what he makes, 
 
 Is apt to make a gradual sink 
 
 Down, drifting to a ruinous break. 
 
 The man who never stops to think 
 That educated men must work, 
 
 Is wasting time with all fools in 
 
 Just learning how with ease to clerk. 
 
220 A Lesson. 
 
 % gcsson. 
 
 A lesson niiglit be learned from T^ord : 
 A large, fine steer within my herd 
 Stands near the stack, and never bawls. 
 But watch the fork when first it falls. 
 He stands bv the first bunch of hav, 
 '^Vhile others hook around and play; 
 He never mns and tramps around, 
 And tramps the hav in muddy ground : 
 He eats while others run and bawl. 
 And seeks for bunches not so small. 
 He's always fat. smooth, sleek and round, 
 TVliile others lank would seem unsound. 
 A lesson here tiere is no doubt, 
 If YOU will trv to find it out. 
 
ME8. JOSIE B. TAYLOK. 
 
 [222] 
 
The Bride's Farewell. 223 
 
 [Dedicated to my daughter, Mrs. Josie B. Taylor. J 
 
 Fare thee well, my dearest mother, 
 
 Love's strange fancy bids me go ; 
 Sad to leave thee for another, 
 
 Yet I could not answer no. 
 Friends most dear now linger 'round me, 
 
 Oh ! this pain words cannot tell ; 
 Childhood's home, how dear I love thee, 
 
 Yet I bid thee all farewell. 
 
 Kindred friends and friends of childhood, 
 
 And the scenes I loved so well, 
 Cluster 'round me like the wildwood 
 
 Fringing 'round the little dell. 
 Golden forest of the highland. 
 
 Spring time birds with thrilling song. 
 Bold rushing stream o'er bars and sand. 
 
 Cheered my life when years seemed long. 
 
 The landscape painting 'gainst the wall, 
 
 Beneath the frescoed ceiling, 
 Which made impressions while yet small, 
 
 Before my eyes are stealing. 
 
224 The Bride's Fareicell 
 
 Yet I must leave tliee, and forever, 
 Trust myself to another's care, 
 
 Yet our hearts we cannot sever, 
 I shall ever love thee dear. 
 
 Then, dear mother, will you miss me. 
 
 When the vrell known lamps are lit, 
 And will von wait for me at tea 
 
 TVhen the table chairs are set ? 
 Though I shall not hear thy sweet voice, 
 
 While with new friends I may roam, 
 Yet shall be happy with my choice, 
 
 And wish for thee at my home. 
 
 
Mammoth Cave. 225 
 
 Beneath the rock, dark as the grave, 
 Where endless rivers flow, 
 
 Kentucky boasts the Mammoth Cave, 
 And waters pure as snow. 
 
 No eye hath seen its fountain rise. 
 Yet fish swim in the stream — 
 
 But destitute are they of eyes, 
 For light hath never gleamed. 
 
 It is a world within a world, 
 And who can tell how vast ; 
 
 Twelve miles exploring crews unfurled 
 Their banner in the past. 
 
 A voice of many waters speak 
 Of danger 'neath the walls, 
 
 And further man would fear to seek, 
 'Mid caves and roaring falls. 
 
 What style of man beyond the shore 
 Of that dark, raging stream. 
 
 Is for the Fairies to explore. 
 And paint in golden dream. 
 
 15 
 
226 Uncle Sam. 
 
 Now, Uncle Sam a bride lie took, 
 To represent liis wealtli and pride ; 
 
 She turns the pages of his book. 
 And finds no nation by his side. 
 
 She stands arrayed in bridal robe, 
 
 The style of crown she there would bring, 
 
 She looks out over all the globe, 
 
 And plucks a quill from eagle's wing. 
 
 She looks above our nation's head. 
 The nation's emblem there unfurled ; 
 
 She read the lines — blue, white and red — 
 The proudest nation of the world. 
 
 The Goddess standing by her side 
 
 Sends light of freedom o'er the world ; 
 
 She looks away across the tide. 
 
 To bless the flag that France unfurled. 
 
 And so they standeth, three in one, 
 Representing power, wealth and fame, 
 
 To hold the Union as begun, 
 But adding fuel to the flame. 
 
Uncle 8am. 227 
 
 Old England's envy liveth long, 
 
 And Uncle Sam doth know it well; 
 
 He stands with seventy millions strong, 
 Her useless noise and boasts to quell. 
 
 The Lion stands on England's shore, 
 
 Growling at the American Bear; 
 The Bear fears not his hideous roar, 
 
 While Stars and Stripes float in the air. 
 
 Km^^^c^ 
 
228 South Carolina's First JBaXl. 
 
 At TTashington. in Eelic Hall, 
 Amid the relics quaint and old. 
 
 We saw Cai'olina's challenge ball. 
 
 "WTiich set the war train, death, to roll. 
 
 Two balls flew from two warriors' guns — 
 One from the Gray, one from the Blue- 
 Met in the air, weld into one, 
 
 Symboling North and South anew. 
 
The Awakening of the Soul. 229 
 
 [Presented to Rev. J. L. Hoffman, A. M.] 
 
 The silvery dew-drops kissed the rose, 
 Then slyly steals within its fold. 
 
 To wake it from its sweet repose, 
 And variegate with rain-bow gold. 
 
 The voice of conscience, ever still, 
 Tet whispers to the sin-dark soul; 
 
 The soul awake, with love is filled, 
 And heavenly pages unfold. 
 
 The germ which seemingly was dead, 
 
 Like rose-buds, which the dew-drops kiss. 
 
 Awakes to feed on living bread 
 
 And drink the wine of heavenly bliss. 
 
230 Strange, Jhit True. 
 
 Had I the oratorical powers of a Webster, and the genius of a 
 Shakespeare, I could never paint the scene nor describe the sweet 
 ard charming ring of the song, as it appeared in this wonderful 
 dream. It was simply beyond all human imagination. 
 
 ^ticatxge, gut %xuz. 
 
 [Presented to Prof. Rufus Holden.] 
 
 Once in the silent shades of dream, 
 I saw a strange but glorious sight ; 
 
 A silvery cloud hung in a gleam, 
 
 The heavens burnt with golden light. 
 
 The cloud moved slowly in the eky. 
 But grading down, adown it came ; 
 
 A moment then, and stopped on high. 
 And disappeared like blown-out flame. 
 
 It left a troop on angel wings, 
 
 Who, like a cloud, slight seemed to rise ; 
 They tuned their silvery tongues to sing, 
 
 While floating through the golden skies : 
 
 "I will arise and go to Jesus ; 
 
 He will embrace me in His arms ; 
 
Strange^ But True. 231 
 
 In the arms of mj^ dear Saviour, 
 
 Oh! there are ten thousand charms." 
 
 Oh ! Lord, that I could sing that song ; 
 
 That men of earth might hear the sound 
 As it reached from that throng. 
 
 While up they rose and circled around. 
 
 Their song is one we know so well, 
 And often sung at church by choir, 
 
 When new-born souls their glory tell, 
 As light gleams from the heavenly fire. 
 
 Their song grew loud, and louder still ; 
 
 My soul was charmed with sound and sight ; 
 Their golden wings, slight moved at will, 
 
 Their brightness burnt the shades of night. 
 
 Then round and round, away on high, 
 Their song grew faint, but sweeter still ; 
 
 They climbed the stairway of the sky. 
 To reach bright heaven's golden hill. 
 
 Their forms grew small, and smaller still ; 
 
 Their song stopped with a bell-ring tone ; 
 They lit upon the golden hill. 
 
 Where silvery streets lead to the throne. 
 
 Then of this vision all was gone ; 
 
 The heavens closed the golden light ; 
 
232 Strange, But True. 
 
 Yet, traaiquilly, the song went on, 
 
 Through happy slumbers of the night. 
 
 I saw no more, but heard the ring, 
 And many days and weeks passed by, 
 
 And still I heard the angels sing 
 Behind that painting in the sky. 
 
My Oion Bronzy Dear. 233 
 
 Let me go, let me go, 
 To my own native home. 
 
 Where the light bark we row, 
 And the wild forest roam. 
 
 Where my own Bronzy, dear. 
 And our papoosey, Blone, 
 
 Watch and wait for my care. 
 Or they die there alone. 
 
 There the bright, shiny moon 
 Through the forest so deep. 
 
 Sends the bears and the 'coon 
 To our field while we sleep. 
 
 And my own Bronzy, dear, 
 Has no strength for the bow, 
 
 The wild varmints to clear. 
 So, dear braves, let me go. 
 
 There the beautiful stream 
 Elows through the wild glen. 
 
 And the theme of our dream. 
 No harm the pale-faced men. 
 
234 My Oimi lironzy Dear. 
 
 But we show friendly face, 
 And we treat white man kind, 
 
 And we go to the place 
 
 Where the game they do find. 
 
 And my own Bronzy, dear, 
 With a heart pure as snow, 
 
 Drops for them friendly tear, 
 So white braves, let me go. 
 
 Go thy way, red man's son, 
 Seek thy own Bronzy, dear. 
 
 And with thee take my gun. 
 The wild varmints to clear. 
 
Bosy Hill. 235 
 
 Love thoughts come stealing o'er my brain, 
 As dreams run back to youthful days, 
 
 And wish to live life o'er again, 
 'Mid lovely scenes so far away. 
 
 'Mid rolling fields and. widening plain, 
 And golden forest fringed with pine. 
 
 Near Rosy Hill there I'd remain, 
 
 And that dear Forest should be mine. 
 
 I loved those shades, I loved those plains ; 
 
 I loved that groye above the mill ; 
 I loved the pines arching the lanes. 
 
 But most of all loved Rosy Hill. 
 
 There was a-bloom a sweet bower Rose, 
 And of the form there was no ill ; 
 
 The son there set, the son there rose, 
 For that fair Rose bloomed on a Hill. 
 
 And this fair Hill was just at home, 
 Beyond the plain, with forest deep. 
 
 Where moonbeams lit the path we roamed. 
 When ghostly shadows seemed to creep. 
 
236 Bosy Hill. 
 
 The rising son there kissed the Eose, 
 And Eosy blushed hke burnished gold, 
 
 And then a hue of sweet repose 
 
 Told more than shades or blush unfold. 
 
 Ohio boasts of widening plains, 
 Of rivers bold and sites to build ; 
 
 But of them all, it still remains 
 That I preferred the Eosy HilL 
 
 I rambled o'er the mighty plain, 
 
 With swamp and bog and rippHng rill 5 
 
 "West Virginia stealing o'er my brain, 
 rd risk my life to gain a Hill. 
 
To Mrs. J, Hamilton. 237 
 
 [Maysville, Keutucky.] 
 
 This mirrored shadow in the frame, 
 A faint resemblance of thy charm, 
 
 When beauty won for thee a name. 
 
 Unstained by fault, unstained by harm. 
 
 Thy youthful bloom, expression sweet, 
 A loving glance from lovely eyes. 
 
 Still bears a charm for those they meet. 
 Which from pure innocence can rise. 
 
 Oh, happy man who shares thy love. 
 And blessed be thy daughters still, 
 
 Who seek the power from above. 
 To love thee more and do thy will. 
 
 And blessed be thine only son, 
 
 Whose business life just now is new ; 
 
 Long may his prosperous business run, 
 And live for self, but more for you. 
 
 Oh, lovely scenes so far away, 
 When you and I were scarce nineteen. 
 
238 To Mrs. J. Haynllton. 
 
 Tlie pleasures of that yontlifiil dav 
 Have lived like shades of evergreen. 
 
 The years have dropped like golden sands, 
 And left their trail of silvery gray, 
 
 Tet severs not the golden band 
 Of kindred love in youthful day. 
 
One Iltindred Years Ago. 239 
 
 'Tis but one hundred years ago 
 
 Since daring white men sought this land 
 Then here was found the buffalo, 
 
 And savage Indian bands. 
 The forest drooped o'er winding streams, 
 
 The lonesome woods were calm and still, 
 Presenting but a lifeless dream, 
 
 Beyond the eyes of skill. 
 
 The hills were clad with giant oaks, 
 
 The lovely vales were draped in bloom, 
 When white man's gun the silence broke 
 
 Amid the heathen's home. 
 The red man showed a friendly face. 
 
 And pledged his honor to be true. 
 But, like the honor of his race, 
 
 His pledge too soon was due. 
 
 No mercy shown to prisoners then. 
 No army stood to face the foe. 
 
 But forts were built, thus to defend 
 Them, ninety years ago. 
 
 The Indian warrior scaled these vales. 
 They trailed our hunters in the snow, 
 
240 One Hundred Years Ago. 
 
 And now we tell the warrior's tale 
 Of ninety years ago. 
 
 The years have dropped like golden sands, 
 
 And every day brought something new, 
 Till light of men throughout the land. 
 
 Gleams through the nightly dew. 
 The world is hooped with lightning wire, 
 
 The rivers flow above the rail, 
 The mountain swallows steam and fire. 
 
 And trains sweep on the rail. 
 
 The white man's axe has swept the hills. 
 
 And towns have grown within the vale ; 
 The mountain streams are lined with mills, 
 
 The world's adrift with mail. 
 The Indian warriors westward drift. 
 
 Like mist before the rising sun, 
 Their puny arm once more they lift, 
 
 Ere long their race is run. 
 
Niagara. 241 
 
 I stood upon the wond'rous shore, 
 
 Where foaming billows racing roll, 
 And muffled thunder loudly pour 
 
 From out the current gorge of old. 
 The raging river down the steep, 
 
 Rolling, foaming, roaring, boiling, 
 And thence to take the mighty leap, 
 
 Plunging down in mist recoiling. 
 
 Canadian plains seem far away, 
 
 The Cliftain House stood grand and bold, 
 The sun closed down on Canada 
 
 With streaks of light and burnished gold. 
 We climbed the winding time-worn tower. 
 
 Which rose above the misty falls. 
 Where rolling sheets with endless power 
 
 Leap from the wond'rous curving walls. 
 
 A ship-of-war there made a leap, 
 
 Down, plunging like a spear of steel. 
 
 Which could not rise from out the deep. 
 The depths of wonder to reveal. 
 
 Some flimsy sj)linters, brown, and green, " 
 Rose to the surface with the foam, 
 
 16 
 
242 Niagara. 
 
 And of the wreck that's all was seen 
 Of what was once a warrior's home. 
 
 There red men offered sacrifice, 
 
 And lots were cast among the girls, 
 And fringy wreaths and flowers nice, 
 
 Placed in her boat to leave the world. 
 It fell upon the chieftain's child, 
 
 And she the last of all his race ; 
 She took her seat 'mid flowers wild, 
 
 While tears stole down the chieftain's face. 
 
 Her boat was pushed from off the shore, 
 
 'Mid Indian screams and cheering loud, 
 The chief then lit a boat with oar. 
 
 And like a streak the current plowed. 
 He reached his child above the fall, 
 
 And there each other they embraced. 
 Then waved farewell to one and all, 
 
 While tears stole down each bronzy face. 
 
 Yet they believed a hunting ground 
 
 Was in the golden far away. 
 Where blooming forests ere abound. 
 
 And time is but an endless day. 
 Each year they sent their proxy on, 
 
 A blooming girl and boat of flowers. 
 And worshipped at the early dawn, 
 
 The symbol falls with endless powers. 
 
I^iss Her, Quick, You Little Goose. 243 
 
 At sight I loved Miss Nellie dear, 
 
 And Polly parrot loved her, too, 
 I courted both for one long year, 
 
 And Polly, too, was ever true. 
 She said one day: "I is your friend, 
 
 And Nellie, dear, does love you, too." 
 So first and last, and to the end. 
 
 Miss Polly's chat was ever new. 
 
 She watched us close, she'd steal our words, 
 
 And tell them to a laughing crowd ; 
 Yet I to others much preferred,' 
 
 And of her Nellie ever proud. 
 My timid soul more timid grew, 
 
 And oh ! I loved Miss Nellie dear ; 
 But, then, if Polly only knew. 
 
 She'd surely tell it everywhere. 
 
 The train I rode went half -past nine ; 
 
 When parting, oft I wished to say : 
 "Oh! Nellie, dear, wilt thou be minef 
 
 But there was Polly in the way. 
 The last of June, a lovely day, 
 
 The summer-house was sweet with bloom ; 
 
244 -S755 Her^ Quick j You Little Goose. 
 
 There we, as lovers, hid away — 
 Left busy Polly in the room. 
 
 But Polly stole within a fold, 
 
 And perched on trellis over-head, 
 With eyes set in two rings of gold, 
 
 And no deaf ear to what was said. 
 Still as the ghost of thistle flowers, 
 
 Our strutting little Polly stood, 
 And caught each sacred word of ours, 
 
 And all our secrets understood. 
 
 The hour drew near "the parting nine," 
 
 My stammering tongue refused to go ; 
 At last I said: " Wilt thou be mine V 
 
 "Oh, sir, I cannot answer no." 
 " Kiss her, kiss her, quick, you little goose !" 
 
 I kissed her, quick, the clock struck nine, 
 And then my stammering tongne was loose, 
 
 And Nellie, dear, was ever mine. 
 
ItesvU of Thought. 245 
 
 [Dedicated to My Brother-in-Law, Hon. Valentine Langfitte. J 
 
 Two bright-eyed boys were sent to school 
 
 Through all their happy youthful days ; 
 Were governed by the golden rule 
 
 At home, in school, and in their plays. 
 Their kingly mansion, near a town, 
 
 Looked out upon a crystal stream. 
 Which coursed its banks, the eastern bounds 
 
 Of mills their father ran by steam. 
 
 The fringe of wealth hung at the door, 
 
 And two bright boys alone to train. 
 The craving heart could ask no more 
 
 In point of wealth and earthly gain ; 
 So wealth and pride great efforts made 
 
 To train these boys for wealth and fame. 
 And j)arents sought wise teachers' aid. 
 
 Whose merits won for them a name. 
 
 These twins, now sixteen summers'- old. 
 
 Sat by their blazing, cozy fire ; 
 One talked and dwelt on themes of gold, 
 
 The other sought a station higher ; 
 
246 Result of Thought. 
 
 One spoke of gold behind the bar, 
 
 And rich hotels in city style, 
 The other spoke of church and choir, 
 
 Renouncing evil all the while. 
 
 They both grew up bright, happy men. 
 
 Each launched his boat upon life's sea; 
 One took the Bible and the pen. 
 
 The other took the hotel key. 
 For one had watched the parson well, 
 
 Who always dwelt on truth and fame ; 
 The other's jDride was the hotel, 
 
 Where devils booked the drunkard's name. 
 
 One preached of Christ, the heavenly star, 
 
 And pressed his claims upon the soul ; 
 The other stood behind the bar, 
 
 To barter life and soul for gold. 
 He painted charms upon the wall ; 
 
 He lit his house with brilliant lights ; 
 A cordial welcome, one and all. 
 
 To come and spend the pleasant nights. 
 
 His bar was on the gilt-edge style. 
 
 His billiard-room was fringed with gold. 
 
 His card-room open all the while, 
 
 The young and giddy there to mould. 
 
 His house became an evil den, 
 
 His family drifted with its charms, 
 
Result of Thought. 247 
 
 His death was at a tremor's end, 
 
 His wealth was wrecked as by a storm. 
 
 His brother, now a parson gray, 
 
 Stands firm as in the days of youth ; 
 His course is marked with grand display 
 
 Of ministerial love and truth. 
 His life is one continual ray 
 
 Of brilliant gleamings from the throne, 
 And souls that live in endless day 
 
 Will wear the crown of seed there sown. 
 
 Two flowers standing side by side, 
 
 Each envious of the other's bloom. 
 Day after day still grew their pride, 
 
 Till both were changed and they were one. 
 So thought and pride youth's bloom will guide. 
 
 To variegate w4th good or ill, 
 And should one choose the evil side, 
 
 The heart is taught to love it still. 
 
 'Tis thought that makes a man a name, 
 
 No lazy brain can ever gain 
 Great honors, wealth or scuptured fame. 
 
 He merely drags a life in vain. 
 Minds deep and great, great deeds have done 
 
 To scan mysterious worlds on high. 
 While thoughtless men their course have run. 
 
 Like thistle blossoms in the sky. 
 
248 Result of Thought. 
 
 Thought is the keystone in the arch 
 
 "WTiich spans the door to sculptui'ed fame 
 There Morse and Fnlton led the march. 
 
 Their steam and Hghtning to prochiim. 
 Now Edison speaks across the land, 
 
 And Morse has laid the ocean wire. 
 And Fulton placed in mortal hand 
 
 The blaze which set the world on fire. 
 
Sce7ies of Childhood. 249 
 
 Scenes of O^txiXxXtooxl. 
 
 [Dedicated to My Brother, Mr. C. G. Davis, and Elizabeth, His Wife.] 
 
 Oh, tlie long, long, dear long ago. 
 Fifty years or more, I know, 
 Wlien I a child at mother's knee 
 Could read the love she had for me. 
 She stamped her image on my heart 
 And bid its charms ne'er to depart ; 
 Her voice was music, soft and sweet, 
 Stood slightly tall, handsome and neat. 
 
 Oft' she sat by the spinning wheel, 
 Spinning threads for the noiseless reel, 
 Drawing flax from the distaff rest, 
 Wound in shape of a hornet's nest. 
 She spun the long rolls made of wool, 
 And wound the large spools round and full, 
 To feed the brown old-fashioned loom, 
 Which stood just in another room. 
 
 Then sister wove the whole day long. 
 And trained her voice with lover's song; 
 And little sister wound the quill. 
 And we repaired the flutter mill, 
 
250 Scenes of Chiklhood. 
 
 And built a dam across the stream, 
 
 To use its power iu place of steam. : 
 
 But when complete, though strong and neat. 
 
 We had no burrs to grind the wheat. 
 
 But. like the noiseless spinner's reel, 
 The mill consisted of a wheel. 
 Which threw its rolling silvery spray 
 In rainbow mist of grand display. 
 The mill was all we claimed for it. 
 But was not worth a phip'ny-bit. 
 So then we left the worthless mill, 
 And went out slightly on the hill. 
 
 And there we cleared a little field, 
 Small timbers fell'd, the large ones peeled, 
 And dug the ground for early corn, 
 And planted it one bright Spring morn. 
 The ground squirrel took a little scout. 
 And found the seed that we put out ; 
 He knew I was too small to shoot. 
 He dug my corn out by the root. 
 
 Then, like an ape, sat on his heel, 
 And of my corn would make a meal; 
 This raised my boy ambition high. 
 And then I jDlanned that he should die ; 
 I made wood trio-o-ers. neat and small. 
 And set the well-known trap, ''dead fall," 
 
/Scenes of Childhood. 251 
 
 And then again in early morn 
 He came to steal the trigger-corn. 
 
 But when he bit the trigger-thread, 
 
 The trap-stone fell and he was dead ; 
 
 The corn was saved, the victory won, 
 
 And thus a farmer boy begun. 
 
 And then away to valley field, 
 
 With timbers dead and partly peeled. 
 
 To heap dry logs upon the ground. 
 
 And burn dead limbs that crumbled down. 
 
 A cloud of smoke hung o'er the farm, 
 The scenes of which a lasting charm. 
 Has followed to this distant day, 
 Of care-worn head and silvery gray. 
 Then boys and father tilling corn. 
 Awaited calls of dinner horn ; 
 There wigeons pecked the dotted tree, 
 And built a nest no one could see. 
 
 They plucked the corn to feed their young, 
 And paid their bills with songs they sung ; 
 The wood-peck thief, with blood-red head. 
 Also in fields with timber dead, 
 Would pluck the corn the whole day long, 
 And then go home without a song ; 
 When evening shades were growing long. 
 Swamp robin, in a happy song, 
 
252 Scenes of Childhood. 
 
 Oft' touched the sweetest chord e'er heard 
 From any charming forest bird. 
 His home was in the forest green, 
 His golden plumage seldom seen, 
 But champion of the world in song, 
 He raised his voice so shrill and strong 
 It touched the valley hills around, 
 And echoed back the charming sound. 
 
 Those charming birds and lovely scene 
 All disappeared with Summer green ; 
 Then golden forest leaves came down. 
 And covered all the woodland ground, 
 And often came the dread alarm. 
 Of fence in danger round the farm ; 
 Hark ! Hark ! the woodland warning fire ! 
 'Tis sweeping fast and flaming higher. 
 
 In angry flames it climbs the trees. 
 And rides in wrath on every breeze ; 
 It leaps across the ravine wall. 
 Dead timbers piecemeal reel and fall ; 
 It climbs the mountain like a steed. 
 And sweeps through woods tornado speed, 
 The fox and deer fly from the flame. 
 Fly, swiftly fly, all kinds of game. 
 
 The smoke and flame have raised alarm, 
 And neighbors rushing to the farm, 
 
Scenes of Childhood. 253 
 
 Rake fast, and fire around the field, 
 The fence if possible to shield. 
 The smoke rolls up in fleecy train, 
 The sun shines on, but all in vain, 
 The scene is but a smoky world, 
 Which wraps itself in silvery pearl. 
 
 The sun moves slowly through the sky. 
 With deep red veil hung o'er his eye ; 
 The silken curtain of the night 
 Close moon and stars all out of sight ; 
 The morning sun o'er mountains high, 
 A blood-red painting in the sky, 
 Moves all day long and passes by. 
 But minus power to dim the eye. 
 
 Now after many years away, 
 I sought the home of childhood's day ; 
 But, oh ! a sad and wond'rous change — 
 'Twas not my home, it all looked strange. 
 A kingly throne with golden dome. 
 Could not be valued with my home ; 
 I wished no change, however grand, 
 I wished no change in forest land. 
 
 But wished it like the da}- s of old. 
 When forest draped in wieaths of gold; 
 I missed each bush and every tree. 
 O'er farm and hills so dear to me ; 
 
254 - Scenes of Childhood. 
 
 Each carried sadness with its loss, 
 And changes gi*and were only dross, 
 The two grand oaks upon the hill. 
 Were slain by axe and hauled to mill. 
 
 The ground which once had claimed the barn, 
 Was plowed and planted now in corn ; 
 The sweep was torn down from the well, 
 By windlass rope the bucket fell. 
 The moss-grown walls were worn by time, 
 Which formed shght steps I used to climb 
 To wash and clean the bottom stone, 
 Where nature's fountain held its own. 
 
 The old-time house was torn away, 
 A new one made a grand display, 
 With finished halls and stylish rooms ; 
 But oh, alas ! 'twas not my home. 
 The rudest block in old-time walls, 
 More dearly j^rized than rooms and halls; 
 Its walls were built of axe-hewn wood, 
 Storm-proof, in forest lands it stood, 
 
 To welcome hunter, brave and true, 
 "WTien inmates numbered only two ; 
 There first the muffled axe was heard, 
 Which startled all the native herd 
 That roamed those hills and forest vale, 
 And left the only dingy trail. 
 
Scenes of Childhood. 255 
 
 There stood those walls mid fields of green, 
 When family numbered just fourteen. 
 
 There stood those walls when all were gone, 
 
 And no one prized its door as home ; 
 
 Yet memories dear lived in the breast 
 
 Of those whom that dear home had blest, 
 
 And for its loss b. tear was shed, 
 
 Deep as the wails o'er loved ones dead ; 
 
 The rippling brook from nearest hill, 
 
 AVhere dams were made for flutter mill, 
 
 Was forced from nature's winding wall 
 Through home-made channels deep and small. 
 And not a bank nor e'en a trace 
 Was left to mark its rightful place. 
 The cabin cribs were both torn down, 
 And not a trace left on the ground ; 
 The creek had worn its banks away — 
 A wond'rous change since boyhood day. 
 
 The woodland grove just near my home, 
 Where pheasant beats his muffled drum. 
 Was swept away, and now the quail 
 Was monarch of that little vale. 
 The highland peaks near home all 'round. 
 Where golden forests once abound. 
 Were stripped of all that grand display 
 Which charmed my heart in childhood day. 
 
256 Scenes of Childhood. 
 
 My liome bird's gone to distant hills, 
 To blend their songs with whip-poor-wills, 
 And sing for settlers of the woods, 
 The forest wilds of my boyhood. 
 But now a hundred cottage homes 
 Are planted where I used to roam, 
 O'er lovely forest hills and vales, 
 A wood for deer and varmint trails. 
 
 The wildwood land, home of the owl, 
 Where wolf sneaked off with hideous howl. 
 And panther slept on bended trees. 
 Is now the happy home of ease. 
 The old school-house is torn away. 
 Ground sodded green once worn by play. 
 Where game ran high by swift moved feet, 
 And battle raged, fear of defeat. 
 
 A thought came o'er me with a tear — 
 This sodded play-ground, once so dear. 
 Asked me the question sad and deep : 
 How many of your playmates sleep 
 Beneath a sod like this of mine ? 
 The answer of ; ten, perhaps nine. 
 The new school-house of rustic wood, 
 A ragged beggar quaintly stood. 
 
 With moss-grown logs o'er window small. 
 And birds had built upon the wall. 
 
Scenes of Childhood. 257 
 
 The desk and seats had crumbled down, 
 The floor lay mouldering on the ground, 
 The rude stone chimney, lank and tall, 
 AYas bending from the school-house wall, 
 And ruin hung o'er all the scene. 
 Where old-time school was ever green. 
 
 The hills seemed tall and far away. 
 Long mountain shades at close of day; 
 Green waving fields of grass and rye, 
 Where forest peaks once propped the sky. 
 The valleys spread their blue grass wings. 
 The little brooks were fed by springs ; 
 The windings of the well-known stream, 
 Were lost in grassy fields of green. 
 
 The rolling fields of golden grain. 
 Like sea waves drifting in a train, 
 Eolled o'er the hills and mountains high, 
 Recoiling 'gainst the rosy sky. 
 The sun went down o'er fields of grain. 
 Which spread o'er hilltops and the plain, 
 Where unmolested forest stood, 
 W^hen father felled the first wildwood. 
 
 His axe was first in all the plain, 
 His gun was first the wood to stain, 
 His rooster blew the first shrill horn 
 To warn the forest herds of morn. 
 
 n 
 
258 
 
 Scenes of Childhood. 
 
 All sounds were muffled by the trees, 
 And slightly sthrred the forest breeze. 
 Sketched from those scenes of forest gloom, 
 You have the painting of my home. 
 
The Sunset of Life. 259 
 
 S^llxje J^urtset 0f !£ife. 
 
 c^-" 
 
 The silver}^ cords of life are winding 
 Around the rolling beams of time ; 
 
 Life's sun, reflecting while declining, 
 
 Bright gilds the dreamy shades of rhyme. 
 
 To distant worlds in the flight of dream 
 On swift wings of the soul we ride, 
 
 Where the planet, stars and soft moon-beam, 
 Through ethereal deep seem to glide. 
 
 Bright seas beyond that mystic shore, 
 Where mysterious transports sweep, 
 
 And the art of man can ne'er explore, 
 Lie smouldering in the starry deep. 
 
 Worlds half hidden by the veil of time. 
 In their refulgent grandeur roll, 
 
 To tempt the venturous pen of rhyme 
 Their wonderous beauty to unfold. 
 
 Thus golden sheaves from our sickle fall ; 
 
 Imaginary fields stretch far away ; 
 Life's sun hangs o'er its mountains tall; 
 
 The shadows fall to close the day. 
 
260 Silken Thread. 
 
 ^IX^etx 3^toead. 
 
 Two hills of corn stood in the field, 
 And as the shoots rose for the yield, 
 From out the shoots soft silken thread 
 Thus to its near-by neighbor said : 
 
 " Now could my bloom meet silk of thine, 
 'T would then be sure the bloom of mine." 
 And thus arianged, the trade was made, 
 And each one gave the other aid. 
 Now when the farmer to the field 
 Came for the stalks and for the yield, 
 The farmer to his servant said: 
 
 •' This hill is white and this one red." 
 Each took his hill back to the bin, 
 The husk removed and there within 
 "Were grains of white and grains of red. 
 The farmer to his servant said : 
 
 ' The bloom from off the tassel head. 
 Has fell upon the silken thread." 
 The bloom of youth with silken thread, 
 From evil stocks are often fed. 
 The husk may hide, but there within 
 Are grains of innocence stained with sin. 
 
Recruiting for the Lord. 261 
 
 %zi:xn\Xxu^ fox: tite g0t:d. 
 
 We are now recruiting for the Lord, 
 
 The gospel drum rings clear and strong, 
 
 Eternal joy, the great reward, 
 
 For all who join our happy throng. 
 
 We'r moving on the train of time, 
 It cannot stop, it cannot slack; 
 
 Our camp is in a world sublime. 
 
 Once there we never shall come back. 
 
 We'r fighting for the great reward. 
 For that dear land beyond the skies, 
 
 Where angels sing and praise the Lord, 
 And pleasure never, never dies. 
 
 Fall in before the roll is call'd. 
 
 The train is sweeping o'er the plain. 
 
 The drum rings loud for one and all. 
 If Heaven is lost, Hell must be gain'd. 
 
 A branch road, and it is known well. 
 The track is broad, the way is clear, 
 
 Eternal fire in pits of Hell, 
 
 Reward of those who muster there. 
 
262 
 
 Recruiting for the Lord. 
 
 Large bounty and a crown for all, 
 
 Who step time with the gospel drum, 
 
 Our flag-staff rests on Heaven's wall. 
 Who will enlist? Oh! who will come? 
 
Army of the Dragon. 263 
 
 ^x\uv^ of ttxe 'BxviQOU. 
 
 I dream'd of Satan and his clan, 
 
 Who came to earth at dead of night, 
 
 Satan with horns leading the van. 
 
 With martial tramp and quick of flight. 
 
 And as he marched at this dread hour, 
 He changed from devil to a queen. 
 
 With beauty charming and with power, 
 Changing all to a lovely scene. 
 
 The fairest of the earthly fair. 
 
 The fairest damsel with her charm, 
 
 To his fair face could not compare. 
 Nor stand so distant from all harm. 
 
 To see him was to look and love. 
 Lose sight of hellish scenes before. 
 
 Admire him as one from above. 
 Even the God we all adore. 
 
 Just then appeared a rushing throng. 
 
 Half-human, with satanic gaze. 
 All quick as flash, with movements strong, 
 
 A flash of light, and then a blaze. 
 
 Speechless they tramped, as armies swelled, 
 Their fife and bugle gave no sound, 
 
264 Army of the Dragon. 
 
 Bands with their silent drums of Hell, 
 
 Stepped time that seem'd to jar the ground. 
 
 Satan appeared in all his might 
 
 With flaming eyes and shining horns, 
 
 A flash of day, a flash of night, 
 
 His devils wearing crowns of thorns. 
 
 Horrors of Hell came thick and fast, 
 My soul was chill'd with deathly dread, 
 
 I could not see the first nor last, 
 As spirits dam'd still onward sped. 
 
 The silence broke, by battle-fire, 
 A jarring tramp, a war-like sound. 
 
 Music from Hell's invented lyre. 
 
 And drums that seem'd to jar the ground. 
 
 Discordant sounds of music swell'd, 
 A storming fire of grape and shell, 
 
 From guns cast in the pits of Hell, 
 Where the Devil and his angels fell. 
 
 Earth trembled, the waters quivered, 
 And the strongest buildings rattled. 
 
 And bravest men stood back and shivered. 
 As though Hell rose 'gainst earth in battle. 
 
 Why we dream, may be hard to tell. 
 But stranger still, such dreams of Hell. 
 
 This is no fiction. 
 
Speech by Col. JD. H. Davis, July ^, 1878- 265 
 
 3^ ^pfejeclx trjg (^ol, g. gb, iatris, guXij 4, 1878. 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen : 
 
 Through the providence of Almighty God, we this day 
 have the privilege of meeting in this beautiful grove to 
 celebrate this great day, in memory of the events of our 
 nation's birth. 
 
 One hundred and two years ago this day, the Declara- 
 tion of the Independence of these United States was signed 
 by the heroes of seventeen hundred and seventy-six, and 
 proclaimed to the world. 
 
 The astonished nations, startled as though they had 
 just awoke from a long slumber, when they read in that 
 declaration that all men were created equal and should 
 have equal rights. 
 
 This new idea of equal rights and liberty inspired the 
 down trodden people of the colonies with new energies to 
 push forward with the death-pealing thunders of war, in 
 hope of securing to our beloved country peace and liberty. 
 From that day the words freedom and liberty have ever 
 been music to every true American heart. 
 
 When we look back through the pages of history, and 
 view our beloved country in her death struggle for liberty, 
 with her thirteen colonies and about four millions of peo- 
 ple, and contrast the condition of our country then with 
 18 
 
266 Speech by Col. D. II. Davis, July 4, 1878- 
 
 the present, we can scarcely realize that such a wonderful 
 change could have taken place in so short a time. 
 
 The State of New York alone to-day outnumbers the 
 whole of the thirteen colonies at the close of the Revolu- 
 tionary War. "We have grown up from a mere child, as it 
 were, to manhood in stature, to a mighty power in strength, 
 and, to the world's great astonishment, in skill and wealth. 
 We have surpassed all other nations in gigantic business- 
 houses and manufactures, and have a controlling influence 
 over the nations of the earth in point of wealth and agri- 
 cultural productions. Large towns and cities have sprung 
 up from East to West and from North to South ; and, to- 
 day is heard the rumbling sound of the iron horse from 
 the Pacific to the Atlantic Ocean. The once dreary home 
 of the savage is now the home of intelligence and religious 
 liberty. 
 
 The wide spreading plains of the Western prairie are 
 to-day loaded with their fields of golden grain. Our coun- 
 try is checkered with railroads. Our lakes and rivers are 
 noisy with steam; and our beautiful valleys are dotted 
 with towns, churches and school-houses. The gigantic 
 oaks, which once so thickly clustered over these hills and 
 vales, long since have bowed to the earth, and we to-day are 
 surrounded by these beautiful fields of green ; these lovely 
 homes and sparkling eyes of intelligence, with the old 
 star-spangled banner floating above our nation's head, which 
 guarantees to every American citizen the right to worship 
 God according to the dictates of their own conscience, under 
 their own vine and fig tree, where none dare to molest or 
 
Speech by Col. B. II. Daols, July 4, 1878. 267 
 
 make them afraid. The sons of the red man, much against 
 their will, long since surrendered these hills to the white 
 man's axe ; and while we are blessed with all the bounties 
 of life, their wigwams may be found in the farthest plains 
 of the West, near the snow-capped peaks of the Rocky- 
 Mountains. 
 
 And though we have grown up to a mighty power in 
 strength and perhaps have surpassed all other nations in 
 point of wealth, yet, according to our statistics, the entire 
 wealth of the United States is increasing at the rate of 
 about one hundred per cent, in ten years. We have 
 grown up from a population of about four millions to a 
 population of more than forty millions, and yet, we as a 
 nation, are just in our infancy. But, w4th our mighty 
 lakes and rivers, our railroads and canals, our rich and 
 fertile soil, our extensive territories of the West, and our 
 vast mineral resources, we are destined at no distant day 
 to become one of the most powerful and wealthy nations 
 on the face of the globe. For all these blessings of liberty 
 and wealth we are indebted to the heroes of seventeen hun- 
 dred and seventy-six ; to the signers of the Declaration of 
 our Independence ; to the brave warriors who laid down 
 their life for our freedom, and to the noble Washington 
 and Lafayette who planned our battles and who rolled on 
 and on the charriot-wheels of victory until the mighty de- 
 mon of war was compelled to abandon the American soil ; 
 while a triumphant shout went up from every true American 
 heart, and the old star-spangled banner, for the first time, 
 gentl}' floated in the heavenly breeze of peace and liberty. 
 
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