Class J15^S:M^ Book , (S/74^F3 Copyright l^"__ni4K_ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. / PASSING CHIMES ^^ ^J^aJO^ M^-2.z.^^ PASSING CHIMES BY MRS. ELIZABETH MORRIS ■^ CHICAGO R. R. DONNELLEY & SONS CO. 1905 LIBRARY of CONGRESS TwoCoDies Received FEB 12 1906 _ Copy right Entry CLASS CL XXc, No. J i. 3 3 ^Q ' COPY B. ' -fS $2- r 0-1 4-^ X^ Copyright, igoS Mrs. Elizabeth Morris DEDICATED TO LITTLE MERRITT AND IDA MORRIS Four brief years did winsome Merritt Play amid the garden flowers, Four brief years with childish laughter. Sweeter jnade the passing hours. Then the little feet grew weary, And the hands were tired at play, And the guardian angel whispered, Rest until another day. Then he ceased his 7nerry prattle, Quiet grew the little head, Waxen hands were meekly folded, And they cried, *'Our child is dead!'' Dead! oh no, he is but sleeping. By his side sweet Ida's form Soon was laid in pleasant Woodland, There to sleep through stin and storm. Hope and trust— glad hearts may find them Playing on the hills of light, When the morning sunlight brightens All the dewfalls of the 7iight. Contentsi MISCELLANEOUS PAGE Time - - - - - - - ii Asleep and Dreaming - - - - - i5 A Song of Day ---.-- i8 The Dancing Girl - - - - - - 19 Innocence ...... 20 To My Spirit Guide - - - - - 22 Memory Bells ----.. 23 Found - - - ..... 26 Evening ....... 28 DEDICATORY Friendship ...... 29 Desire - - - - - - - 30 MISCELLANEOUS AND CHILDREN'S POEMS Winter Sport ...... 31 Lilies - - - - - - - 32 A Thought on the Rose - - - - - 34 Violets ------- 35 CONTENTS PAGE The Hour of Mystery - - - - 36 The Indian Chief - - - - - - 37 Rest ------- 39 To A Little Leaf and Rose - - - - 40 May-Day ------- 41 Winter - - - - - - - 42 To Learn to Know ----- 43 Shadows of Life - - - - - - 45 Our Country's Flag ----- 49 A Spring Carol - - - - - -50 When Spring Awakes - ... 51 Evening Bells - - - - - - 52 To the Brook ------ 53 A Winter Song - - - - - - 54 To A Sea-Shell - - - - - 55 The Sculptor - - - - - - 56 May-Time ....--- 57 To the Moon - - - - - -58 The Fair Youth ... - - 59 To THE Day ... - - - - 63 My Dream ...... 64 A Child's Wish - - - - - - 65 To THE Dandelion ..... 66 The Winds at Play - - - - - 68 The Mill ...... 69 To A Butterfly - - - - - -70 To the Winds ...... ji A Bit of Nature - - - - - - 72 Dreaming of an Evening - - - - 73 8 CONTENTS PAGE The Mountain Spring - - - - - 74 An Evening in May ..... 75 Fading Days of Autumn - - . . - 76 When Spring Comes - - - . - tj Mistakes - - - - . - - 78 The Butterfly ...... 7^ Spring-Time - - . . - . - 80 The Golden Path ..... gi The Coming Shower - - - . - 83 Spectres of the Past .... 85 The Vale of Death - - - . - 89 Little Things Make the Whole - - - 90 The Magic Flute - - - . - - 94 Retrospection ------ 96 C(me Hand in hand with the march of time, unresisting Or resisting, as we may, 'tis all the same, The scepter in his hand, Time sways, As tho' of all the land he was the ruler gay. Anon says he. Go you must with me. E'en at night, when heavy lids in anguish close. Sometimes with loved ones near, to soothe the dying hour Of mortal, close the eyes. Then time is at an end, at least for one poor soul. For in eternity there is no time, just space, And rest, not only for awhile, but alway. Time yields his scythe, although heavy, ne'er lays it down. Stern his duty, irresistible the spell that drives him on. II ^a^^ing Cftimeief Though fain to rest, 'tis much to do, And no setting sun red in the west, a warning gives 'Tis time to rest for all mankind. And when the sun is sinking fast among its fleecy nest of clouds A smile seems o'er Nature spread, The Winds their lullaby suddenly cease, The swaying trees stand still, and watch their shadows in the brook. Whose mirrored whiteness shows a dull blot From the sullen shadows of the quiet leaves, And flowers their heads hang silently, A slumbrous look within their eyes. Not so with Time, relentless, stern. With ne'er a smile than to bestow upon the many objects in his course. And e'en the Summer balmy breeze, or Winter's icy chill, To him 'tis all the "same, he gathers force, €xme 13 Be it days or years, that in succession Bright or dark may be, goes on. Nor does he stop to quench the agony of sick or . dying, By giving just a little while respite, recruited energy to grasp. His travels wide, and ways both dark and bright. No heart, no sympathy, divine pity knows he not. Not until the millennium comes, deciding fate of one and all Will he then, too, in judgment stand, And at the heralding command of trumpets loud With trembling look 'round at the few sad hearts he healed. But many more that passed death's portal; Had he stopped and lingered, the angel Death with mantling wings Perhaps would not have stopped so oft if he had barred the door 14 ^a^^inq €t^imt0 And with the portals locked, had there slept awhile. O well 'tis all the same, whether we the longer linger In mundane spheres, or to a higher realm soar, Time has given limit, and surely knowest best When to let loose his hold, into eternity slip a soul, The mission given and fulfilled, the soul finds repose Wearing a celestial garb, that fittest best to angel forms And grows not old, as to this tenement of clay We adorn with fitting garb, yet find no rest, 'Twas fit then ere we enter the heavenly home A purer, whiter robe to don. And with the sins so scarlet, oft committed. Lay away the earthly garb As to the dust all that is earthly is consigned. asleep anti J^reamfng 'Twas yesterday that I crossed the border-line Where the daffodil and daisy Grow straight in a row, and them I watered, And as each leaf, with glistening water fed Held up high its head, seem'd to thank me, With a grateful nodding of their heads Seem'd modest in their request for more, Yester-day I picked my favorite flower, the lily-bud From among the many star-shaped virgins, Did my garden fill. And the snow-balls so white and airy Bobbing in the breeze like fairies. Ah, can I e'er forget my thoughts sublime, As the sunbeams, straggling through the snow-ball bushes. Seemed to kiss them, one and all. 15 1 6 ^a^^xriQ €f)ime^ 'Twas yesterday I culled the violets sweet, Lovingly I handled them, Yet did break their tiny stems so fragile, Weighted with a fragrance, deep and lasting, And the roses, climbing on the trellis high. In that old-fashioned style, Ah, was it yesterday my arms were laden With their blossoms weighted with incense rare. And as the honeysuckle I tried to reach A bee came buzzing out of its dark masses. Took me the most by fright or it, I scarce can tell; And of the tiny drops of blood-hued bloom Called spectabilis, seem'd for hours I gathered. Took so many for to make a showing; Of ferns so feathery, I had gathered but a few. ^iBfleep anti ©reaming 17 'Mid the purple asters, a mixture for to make This kaleidoscope of colors more complete, Yesterday I said, I sauntered in my garden Admired the colors, The rain-bow hued colors of the many flowers there. The mists are gathering, and the clouds are lowering As suddenly I start upright, and look around at the gathering twilight ; In the net-work of my brain asleep Fancies had suddenly arisen, and phantom-like had taken form. And in my treasured garden, me thought I surely had been straying. And dazed am I to find, many a year has lapsed Since the faithful picture just portrayed had really happened In that realm of long ago. a ^ong of HBav O Day with thy golden light awhile yet linger, Thou hast no foe to fear; For night but covers thee, Covers thee with a dark mantle for thy sleep. Stay, stay then awhile, O golden day. Slip, O slip not so fast away; Thy guardian light, throw yet awhile, Thy beams of golden hue let spread ; And over all the bright earth shed fair rays. Fair rays of daylight, not yet spent. Stay, stay, fair day, for while thy reign, Thy reign is over land and sea; Then hope is at its brightest. Its brightest, gay and lightest ; Stay, stay then flit not so fast away. Cl^e ©anctng (3ivl As she lightly trips to the tune of a lyre, Swifter and swifter she goes, ever round and round in a circle, Like a spider net-work doth weave, With her fingers the lyre lightly touches. With her feet an unison beat, As she gracefully whirls round and round, No other sound but the tap, tap, lightly given. As poised on high on each toe, non again bending low. Swaying here, swaying there, lightsome and gay. The noonday slips swiftly away. As the lyre fondly she plays, Heeding not the time of day, Dances she with bent figure alway. Slnnocence Watch the tiny rosebud, its petals scarce are seen, Unfurls to the light, in modest array; Lifts its head as tho' 'twere coy, And wished unnoticed to be. Near by grow its taller sisters, Far more regal, not so shy ; To be noticed fain would be, by the passer-by. O'er the modest rose-bud gentle zephyrs sweep, Tenderly drops the dew beneath, In the heart of tiny rose-bud is a depth ; Ne'er could fathom haughty sister-bud. For behold the modest droop of rosebud sweet. Would not allow one little peep, into that tiny soul Where purity so shyly covered sleeps; And scarcely oped it to the morning sun, To its larger sisters far more welcome. 20 S^nnocence 2 1 And it so lonely, and yet not alone, pines Because its sister-roses, more mature and regal. Deigns not to stoop and fondle, Our rose-bud stirring, not yet opened to the day, With meekness, lifts its head aloft, not seeking glory. But with pride's high sublimity. Seeking to know, and see, and be, Vainly ponders why not I, more useful to the world. Not proud, as is the stately lily, but lowly, meek, and unobtrusive. Wishing to be noticed, yet afraid. Unfolding like childhood's first peep, into earth's mysteries. Unlike the rose, mature in solemn glory. And never to reign supreme, like sister roses Far above the realm of earth's sweet fragrance 2 2 ^a^^ing Cfjime^ Have I yet to give, perhaps into life Not yet like mine, in future, though, to be trans- ferred to regal heights, Undreamed of, and still to be. Co jmr Spirit dPutde Vex me not, O spirit, let my disappointments fall gently like rain-bow showers. Give to me, O spirit, heart so contrite. That to know and feel thy presence Is like light sent to me from heaven; To thy guidance let me look, feel safe and sure That my footsteps thou wouldst guide aright ; Tenderly lead me by the hand, to a safe retreat. jHemort TBelliS Watching by the ocean side the billowy waves Piling high, like snow-flecked foam, Soft the water, endless seems the deep ; So are my thoughts, deep in memory's cell a gath- ering The thoughts almost forgot, that now come dancing forth, Just like a broken cord upon the harp Which striving to bring to memory once again Some tender refrain of long ago, almost forgot, At last comes feebly to the touch, As memory reigns supreme, once more brings back those cords Upon my heart had touched most tenderly, in bygone years, The billows washing at my feet. 23 24 ^a^^ms €t)ime^ A heart-throb brings, not unmixed with pain, And memory's thoughts, are of that time when same as now. The billowy waves were sounding in my ears; Perhaps 'tis sometimes, but the faint perfume Of some favorite flower, the same pain awake ; For 'mid the circumstance of days gone by, disappointment brought, E'en then the carol of the lark, That in my pathway stops a moment Its tiny throat so full of trills That brings to life, a far off scene. In other lands where flowers sweetest bloom, And birds the air with warbling fill, 'Tis a tender scene in which my memory lurks As the enchanting vision before my eye is thrust. O memory bells, sometimes full of a happy refrain. Sometimes full of an echoing pain Of that dim past, so sweet now to recall. iW^emorp 2BeII^ 25 Sometimes clanging loudly on the ear, sweet memory bells, Anon, then soft and low, Tis like a living altho' pulseless thing, Thou thus the heart makes tender, sometimes sad. Yet e'en within the memory bells of time Sometimes lapses many an hour, For rest is all that sets free the heart To live again in hope awhile; Memory bells, sweet clanging ever on the air, Never silent in repose As long as life lasts, making thy music heard. iJfounti I walked through a palace richly adorned, Taste and elegance on every side shown- Music and plenty rich wines, And a score of the best vassels, that money could hire; At the beck and the call, The guests had plenty of all that was rare, And no palate unsatisfied leave could take there; Fair faces and forms, a delight to behold, Yet on no face could I see written peace and content; 'Twas not there. I w^ent to the ball-room, brilliant with lights, en- trancing light feet. Fantastic shapes were dancing; Sweet scented flowers perfumed the air, No peace or content on a face written there. 26 jFounti 27 I went to the garden, all nature was there, full of sunshine; The flowers so rare were nodding and playing, Touched gently by breezes that, sweetly caressing, Just sprinkled the dew to the ground. In the air no sound but sweet melody, from a songster near by; Here, here at last was content that I found, in nature passing fair; And a look all around brought a sense refreshing; And calm deep admiration filled my soul. Cfaening The dew is falling on the buttercup, Their little heads are bobbing in the breeze; The cattle homeward bound, All Nature quiet, not a sound But gentle whisperings from the breeze, Purling noise from a brook in the field ; Where tiny wrens are hopping to and fro And seem to never tire. Sleep, sleep, the flowers say. Sleep, sleep, sing the birds overhead; Sleep, sleep, whispers the gentle leaf, 'Tis time to sleep, 'tis time to sleep. 28 ftimh^l^ip I DEDICATED TO A FRIEND, NEW-YEAR, 1905 When friendship's claim lays its warm hands upon the heart, 'tis clear That its warm beams it sheds upon the spot where the emotions play; And stirring, leads us to a heart as kindred, Clings and fastens, like a vine, its weak tendrils twine Upon the oak, and fastens, like its help would thus implore; Like our little feeble hearts, with all its loves, With longing fastens on its object, holds and ten- derly clings Dependent for the warmth it needs. Nor age nor death its meaning knows, 29 30 ^a^^ing €l)ime^ Through all eternity, the soul meets soul, and O dear heart ; The warm heart-blood that flows, with life forever grows Into a lasting love, cemented in our home above. ON THE OCCASION OF A FRIEND'S BIRTHDAY Hast thou, O soul, desire so great, That seeming would let all else go; the nonce awhile pleasure seek, Know'st not that pleasure sought, were all in vain, For duty bound, no other way is happiness; For looking forward to the day On duty bent, not meaning to neglect; But careful, on other hearts dwelling. And happiness in boundless ways bestowing. Peace then a priceless boon would come to thee While others seek the pearl, would be thine own to have and hold. mintn ^pott The merry school-boys, sled in hand, Think the sport of coasting grand ; The cold and bitter wind, the faces bite, But in their play they do not mind. Gay youngsters, they intent on fun, At Jack Frost's bite the harder run; As he their ears make tingle, On the cold air the sleigh-bells jingle. What a lot of fun to watch Jack Frost, As he helps the wind their caps to toss; He loves the sport as well as the boys. Heigh-ho, 'tis fine to greet the Winter Kins 31 Pure and fair, O lilies white, with the stately nod, As zephyrs mild play 'round your shrine; Tell me what in those petals sweet, your secret That you have kept so deep. Is it the perfume thou wouldst keep. As the butterfly hovering near, your company long to be? And stately in your courtesy, no living thing want near; Is it perhaps the birds on high, For which thou whispers, as the winds go by. Methinks it is the blue, blue sky, That thou dost lift thy head so high; And perfume scatters, near and wide. The dew that glistens on thy leaves. Is not more welcome than to thee; 32 ^iiie^ 33 Than the fair sky, that on thee smiles, And with its warmth, which, borrowed from the sun, Thou surely knoweth, that life to thee is given. And warmth from heaven. And as the sun so daily shines. And with its beams brings out thy growth ; Thou surely art more grateful seeming. To that bounteous giver, the sun in heaven, To which thy life thou owest, and friend to thee has ever been. a Cl^ougl^t on tl^e Kosie Fragile is the rose, that shaken by the morning wind Sends fragrance, sweet as a spring morning, Throws an influence to the soul Small, unseen, and ofttimes careless, Broken from its supporting stem, by ruthless hands, Yet has not lived in vain, But brought a comfort, with its radiant hues To many a wearied heart. And the sweet incense leaves a trace. For memory ne'er could blot it out. Is not our lives just like the rose. So small a space, an atom in a universe so great, Small wonder, then, as we ponder the great problem, Life, That unmeaning seems, yet our appointed place, each have. 34 a Wt^ongi^t on tfje iSo^e 35 A lesson, to our heart is taught, For ne'er could one deed blessed but like the incense of the flower. Memory, could ne'er blot out, A lasting impression, leave in its wake. Tiny violets, at me are peeping, as I wander In the pathway of the garden. E'en the winds seem softly whispering. To the waiting ears a-listening; Of the sweet-faced blossoms. Trembling in their narrow beds. And wondering a caress receives. As its tiny leaves unfurl grateful to the evening breeze. W)t i$om of ^v&tttt Hark to the tones of the midnight bell, As it tolls the hour of twelve; The hour of mystery and deep repose, The hour of Nature's time to sleep. A hushed stillness on the air, a brooding of the darksome powers; A brooding, as when its darkest robes had donned, And spreading wide its mantle dark. Lends a weird somber aspect To the blackness of the night ; And with the last stroke of the hour Its silvery tones upon the air A lingering sound brings forth An echo in the far-off distance. 36 The warrior bold on his steed rushes, To the scene of strife, his Indian fiery nature bold asserting ; His foam flecked steed he commands as proudly to the front he dashes. The Indian warrior scents afar the long array Of battle soon will come in conflict, Discerns his vision keen yet much obscured by the mists Of lowering clouds soon a fierce storm portends. The warrior gayly his fantastic garb secures more firmly. Proud of his head-dress, the scarlet trimmings of his sash ; Sees before him foes the many, yet fears he not. 37 ^a0^xm €\)mt^ With trembling lips with fevered brow his warrior nature, In'stinct with heart on fire feels no defeat; Alas the storm that lashed to fury in a moment breaks, The leaden missiles on their deathly mission Ring on the rain-drenched air. Dying and wounded from the battle scene are carried. Gather to the front the line victorious. By their Indian chieftain hailed on high proudly waves his banner; With victorious shouts proclaim the Indian nation free again, The wide free range of happy hunting-ground their own Their own again to roam at will. mm 'Tis only a little while, the battle of life to run, Then slowly ebbs that life away, Like the setting sun; *mid roseate hues, and lines of light. The hope then dawns upon the dying hour. The hope that had through life The one fair beam before us set. Leading on the way, that last had found an end, The passing away of the mortal mind in Christian faith ; The priceless boon had brought of passing hope- fully Into the heavenly sphere, to find rest eternally. 39 Co tl^e little Leaf anO mm Why is it, little leaf and rose, that such delight thou takest In giving, always giving, of thy incense rare. To delight it seems, in bounteous measure; Thy gift on those bestow who sometimes linger, Sometimes not, to thank thee for thy fragrance sweet. To thee it seems as tho' alike the pleasure Thou would share with stranger and with foe; If we could only thus unselfish learn to be, And unto others give of charity; Smiles would come to us, the easier. If to dispense them, not to be so chary. To give, and give alike to friend or foe. Thus, thus our great Creator taught; To love our fellowman; and brother be To one and all alike. 40 Joyous May-day is come, The ribbons of the May-pole To the winds we fling; As we cheerfully sing And laugh in our play, Happy that May-day is here. The birds twitter cheerily, The flowers nod gayly, ' On the air clear we sound Our gay jubilee chorus; May-day is come we sing, Our hands clasped in a ring 'Round, 'round the May-pole we go, Happy are we, for ''May-day is here. 41 mintn The snow is falling silently, The sky with heavy clouds are marked And streaked with somber gray ; The landscape far and wide is hid, And covered with a whiteness that enfolds; Just like a curtain all around. The pigeons circling high, seem to try. In circles make their flight; And the chirping from the snowbirds on the hunt, For the kernel in the ground ; And the bluebells covered o'er with snow. Rests so quiet, until spring its covering lifts; Gladsome time when spring is here. 42 Co learn to Iftnoto As the stars their glory shed at even-tide, So life's small missions add in size; Until a glorious constellation make, Shedding its beams far and wide. The little duties gracefully done. The smile that from the heart is meant; These are in full reward repaid ; And glorious the radiance that falls On all that stands within its reach, No hunting for glory, happiness brings, Nor yet the triumphs, fame has brought, Our meek and lowly Saviour, this has taught, To feed the hungry, cheer the heart Of the widow, to her little add a mite; A treasure to thy heart will bring, that of content. 43 44 ^a^^ing Cfjimeitf Why wander aimlessly seeking fame or wealth? The bubble breaks, all is for naught, Counts most the smile, the cheery word ; From thy bounty, the needy poor relieve, These will count the most. When the book of life is closed, Happiness thine will be forever more; Fame had not brought, nor gold With all its glittering shine useless than to prize, With longing, while the hours away, That precious in the end must be. ^]^at)ot»!8 of Iffe Throbbing humanity opens its eyes Each morning a new day to begin, Some with hopes and aspirations they would fill, Non again hearts crushed with sorrow Ne'er would rise again, such of Nature they would ask For the sun's bright rays as morning dawns. Brings no relief to their sad hearts. Pulsing humanity, as from your couch you rise As one in weariness of soul, Some with young hearts made bold. See the roseate hues of life, through colored glasses Which with the morning sun, they don. Its hue a brilliant color lends to all around. Was it not the babe in swaddling-clothes That with its first step, learned to know 45 46 ^a^^ttig €{)ime^ Reliance on oneself, in time, must know and rec- ognize And with its first step discouragement to feel? But like Nature, to rise, again the steeps to climb. Learn the way, that to some certain goal does reach. And was it not the infant, too, When first it learned life's lesson of woe; When its tiny toy, the first one, fell, And broken at its feet, brought tears gushing, And such an heartache, that with its limited com- prehension Yet clung, and when effaced, but brought another grief. When with its playmates, sister, friend, or brother, It had learned to love, to find That griefs, from quarrels many, Had left a sting, and small remembrance. That e'en the heart ne'er could feel the same again, And then when life, the broader in its scope, J^fiaDoto^ of %ift 47 Loomed up, and just beyond our reach Ambition, our breast and mind, seem'd full, Then, then the keenest pang of all was ours To cope with and endure, Ambitions many unfulfilled, hopes drawn on, fallen to decay. Just like the tenement we call the body. Slowly feels the hand of time. The sands of life ebb low. As the glasses, from constant friction, and long use. Dim and smoked grow, tho' we polish and we burnish Ne'er the same clearness will present. Hopeless grows the vain wish that a better fit Perhaps we could have had. Experience taught, then long ago, the waste of time, 'Twere indeed, to backward trace the steps and turn the dials back. For the pathway would be just as thorny, 48 ^aiBf^ing €l)ime^ And the disappointments just as keen, Our lot same as others, of sunshine have a gleam, Which would we catch, must watch the beam, Not let it pass, and forget the shadow where it lay a part. The beams where the sunlight falls, stand and bask in its full rays, its warmth infuse The strength it gives our hearts will fortify The shadows fall so lightly we scarce would notice As it fell before our path. flDur Countrt'js if lag The stars and stripes, the nation's pride, We proudly raise on high, in the floating wind Its colors bright let shine, the stars so pure and white Of our fair states, each one a meaning clear does give, Each for a state stands stanch. And as in unity there is strength, So our noble flag, for which so many fought and bled, We hail then with delight; Fair flag, the fairest of the land, we proudly hold aloft. In reverence to each star, a meaning then to give; 49 50 ^a^^ing €l)ime^ We hail and welcome every state, that to this union fair belong. We raise thee proudly, fairest flag, all homage due We give to thee welcome flag of glorious hue, The fairest ever sun shone on, By thee we'll always stand. Liberty, sweet Liberty, Without stain has bought for us. a Opting Carol The song-birds are mating as they sing, For very joy their throats do swell, Loud on the evening air, sound sweet but shrill As if they knew the gladsome time In all the year Had come at last. Mi^m Opting, atoafeesi The fairy rivulet from its icy bounds will burst, And merrily sing as its course is run ; The flowers sleeping at its side Their tiny stems will shoot toward the light ; And the crocus and blue-bell nowhere seen, Will spring up like charmed things. Homeward bound the kine with tinkling bells their heads Will stoop to lower at the brook to quench their thirst. The birds that for awhile have flown away; The uprising spring each day will bring them nearer, And truly Nature has endowed and given name To all that once seem'd dead, with Spring will rise again. Evening bells, evening bells, On the air they sweetly ring, Calling one and all to worship God the Giver, in his mercy, Health and wealth and pleasure giveth To the many all alike. Let us worship as we listen To the sweet chimes now a calling. And our thankful hearts lift up Praise the One above, The God that made the universe. Sweet bells, sweet bells. Ring on, ring on, Your chimes so sweet, a message brings. The hour of prayer is here, it rings. ■52 Co tl^e TBroofe Tell me, fairy rivulet, as on thy banks The wild flowers freely grow, Why always in a hurry, with thy restless shining light? So clear by day, so clear by night. Where is thy destination, pray? Hurrying, never creeping, wend thy way. What more of nature can thou ask. Of woods the greenest, 'round thee flourish Moss and fern ever beside thee, keep a vigil, But thou, O wandering brook, goes ever on. Nor to the right nor the left doth turn, As on thy mind it seems, A mission had. And in haste was sent, Is it to linger, find a place more restful, If thou ever can find that place, Or is it nature, that wandering 53 54 ^a^^ing €l)ime^ In thy breast is ever dominant, Green woods nor singing birds does satisfy, But ever hurrying, intent on reaching some other spot. To rest there just awhile. a minttv ^ong Winter is here, winter is here, With its flakes of snow drifting high; A white mantle below, A gray curtain above; The birds that made summer harmonious Have flown to a clime more congenial; Where summer winds blow • And fair flowers grrow. Co a ^ea^^^ell O tell me, shell, of amber hue, As you lie in the sea so blue, Do you ever think of what day tints are? In your imprisoned tomb. Where no one seems to feel or know. Do you, I say, then sometimes wish The upper regions to explore? Few I know leave this tomb. When one, more valiant than the rest. Creeps loose, and thrown upon the shore. Beaten by storm and wind alike. Not knowing of the weary thoughts. And longings to be free again, within the bosom Of its old friend the ocean. As the stranger, passing by, careless looks And finds for it a home upon a shelf, Perhaps soon thrown aside, its faded beauty Finds rest then, for just a little while. 55 %])t Sculptor Firm in hand, the sculptor holds his chisel, As he bends and molds into shapes so various; His artist eye discerns with finished nicety, He learns and fingers softly each piece shallow, As into features measures hollows. Eyes too expressive, pains he takes. 'Round the head a hallowed glory, seems to shed. As an angel face, in short, appears And not in vain, the artist sense of beauty rare. As figure tall, with grace adjusts Its lines symmetrical, are given. And awe seems written on the face. Reverently the artist toils, Ambitious fire in his hand and brain alike, As finished, lays the sculptor down, his chisel. Feels his life work, absorbing and inspired. 56 Sweet the evening calm, when o'er the hill The sun sinks softly to its nest amid the clouds, And gentle zephyrs waft a message from the flowers Nod and smile, and gently toss their heads in play, The cawing of the blue-jay seems to say. Welcome evening breeze of May, Tiny blue-bells in their beds a-sleeping; Gently flows the spring, As on its banks modest grows the sweet- faced daisy. Seem a quiet joy to add To the fair vision May has brought, Leaves in its wake a soften'd air, And blue skies, ne'er so fair As when the eve of May is here. 57 O moon, so white and bland, tell me neath that smile, What hidden thoughts that mask does hide; If inspiration thou hast given ; why not to me, A cunning caprice lurking, beams from thy eye, Has dispelled a curious meaning, left to guess to mortal; Flickering thoughts, too, on thy marble face is written. Showing signs that tho' a riddle thou dost know, Yet to thee, I fain would cry, O moon. To uplift my nature high, so could I courage take From sordid earthly cares, tear off the mask When fell on me a task unbidden; Calmly smile and solve the riddle. 58 A boy sat underneath a tree of cedar so Full of thought, A bee went past merrily singing; The budding flowers brightly nodded, Touched by the gentle breath of spring. The zephyrs swayed the trees, murmuring overhead Yet heard he not ; What scepter dreamed he of that Would upon his brow so fitly rest; Perhaps 'twas of some maiden fair, Whose fond resistance threw a spell. Ne'er could he solve. Perhaps some sailor's life he fancied, Thus sat and pictured, with youth's ardor, Life upon the ocean; And fain would stand in the line of battle, 'Mid conquering heroes bold. 59 6o ^a^^ing €l)ime^ Know'st not, fair youth, that In the ardor of days, now on you, That dreams indeed are very well. And with youth's blood throw a spell, That wiser, older you become, see the folly of. What, then, if fame did come to thee. And Commander in large letters you did wear. Dost think thy heart would be appeased, And longing from thy heart erase. Dost think, when on the rolling billows Thy gallant ship goes skimming That ne'er a wish ungratified would be fulfilled? Perhaps thy heart made sore by some fair maiden Thou didst woo, and disappointment felt, Think you, that others of the same cup had quaffed, And not been disappointed. Erase then from thy mind, fair youth. Ctje fair gout^ 6i The thought that fills thy mind, That fame, and fleeting love, to happiness lead ; 'Tis but a myth. God has a mission given thee, if but fulfilled Will happiness bring, perhaps, too, earthly peace, But ah, the perfect peace, the joy thou seeketh. Not at thy door will knock, to stay; For like the dream thou art dreaming. That linger in the mind, then flit away Like the butterfly on the wing. Repine not then, for youth goes skipping by. Hold fast what now is thine; For with age creeping on, sorrows thy cup will fill; Nor can thou then avert, or turn aside. The most then of thy youth, yet make. And smiles, becoming to that fair face and brow Let linger often, and for the nonce, The darkening sunlight drive away. 62 ^a^^ing €t)tme^ For the clouds will heavier grow, That in the distance now are but a speck, And fleecy white the blue vault of the heaven skim Come then with me, In the silvery brook, thy face mirrowed will see, How brightly fair, 'tis thus to look upon Its smiling waters, by gentle ripples kissed. Will to thy life, a meaning give. And thou, so fair and young. Will learn the truth, why nature green Smiles so benignly, while the season lasts. For winter blasts will come. Time the destroyer, will bring the clouds That though they overhead, bleak and wild, the sunshine hide. Spring will bring again, and life go on as merrily As tho' no cloud had lingered black and forbidding The golden gleams to hide. Co ti)t ^av O day, with thy golden light awhile yet linger, O day, thy beauties the night will soon hide; And cover with a dark mantle for awhile, Already in the distance can I see The faint streak of dark-eyed tint. That heralds coming of the eve. The sun's golden orb is dipping, And the dark cloud but a moment was appearing Then disappearing left no trace. And now, dear light of day, must say good by, Thy friend the sun has left thee To return again the morn to bring its light. 63 ^^ ©ream Ecstasy was mine, as in a dream I sought and found my long lost child. Serene and calm the eyes that in mine gazed, As though no parting had been ours, Only transitory time had passed, and filled the space, So warm the clasp like human warmth. Pure and holy love my blood suffused, Such as I never felt in waking hours; O bright and transitory sleep, that brought such angel visitants, Why, why, O bitter waking come so soon, The bliss so short, dispelled with the roseate hues; The morning light. Made my bitter woe transparent more, With the full light, the meaning 'twas but a dream That left a harrowing in its track. 64 At heaven's gate will they let me in, And as I pass a garden, pick my fill ; Of all there is of flowers? The speckled bright hued pansy, and black-eyed daisy, Can^ I gather these? And others too, like those I've seen. As oft I've passed the keeper's door. And on a shelf all in a row, Those flowers were standing wafting perfume; As I passing, longed to enter in. And for the asking A nose-gay home to carry. 65 Co ti^e j^antielion O dandelion of the golden frame, Without incense, without fame, growing here and everywhere ; And no place can I look but see the little tufts of hair By the side of other flowers, but not despised. Thou growest by the side of the purling brook. Its waters into you look, shaken by the breeze. As the sun each day has kissed thee, As through the leaves its golden light it sheds. By thy side companions many the time beguile. There, too, upon the hillside green, thou growest, The sparkling dew each day receives; The lonely traveler sits and rests, And notice thy golden eyes shine forth, 66 €o tl)e SDantieliDn 67 And sees the panorama spread so far and wide. The butterfly, altho' no taste he sips, each day yet lingers, For thy color shines so golden bright, his fancy takes The little birds hopping 'round Do not neglect to glance at thee. The little child that plucks thy flower. The little hands press fondly. No, no, dear flower of yellow hue, Need not hide thy head, not you ; Thou hast a mission yet to learn. Sweet humility, thy lot to be. Each, every one, has thus a place to fill. €]^e aa(nti0 at i^iat The winds at eventide stir forth, their time to play A gentle noise, and on they rush, on mischief bent They shake the trees, and twist the little stems Of buds just shooting forth; The tiny rivulet too they touch Until a ripple they have stirred. Then forward on their march the trees they strike, And merry laugh when leaves go whirling madly by ; And even the song-birds restless make. As flitting bough to bough, The wind, does shake so vigorous. They tumble in their play. The flowers that grow so tall do not escape. For the wild gambols of the winds at play Delight to shake and tease; 68 €l)e l©inti^ at ^lap 69 And not until the sun looks angry red, Before it settles to its rest, Does the wild air currents cease to play, Then sigh as they too rest, to play another day. Ci^e Mill The mill goes 'round and 'round, Whir, whir, don't you hear the sound; The Miller, white like King Frost's robe, Is ready now, the grain to grind ; To make the flour, fine and white. Hear, hear the clattering sound, Whir, whir, the wheel goes 'round: And never stops till tired out. Co tl^e I3utterfli? What art thou, menial thing of the dust, Come now out of thy chrysaHs state; And now a thing of beauteous color, Fashioned into shape so fragile. Thy wings take rapid flight, and soar so high ; What mission bent art thou? Was it thy maker that to thee gave a gift, That thus the sending so rare; A messenger thou art of air. Now arrayed in colors so fine; wouldst a new life begin. Tell me, butterfly sweet, when in thy chryalis state. Didst thou ever of the time think When from thy mean garb thou wouldst shrink? Looking back to the menial thing once you were, Arose to this delicate thing of the air; 70 €0 tl)e 25utterflp With thy wings soaring high, ever did try, On the flowers, passing by a caress gave to them ; Sweet butterfly, I too would be the flower. If content as thou art, near me would linger. Co ti^e miring O winds, so fickle and precarious, with moods so various, Why so changeable, as each day cometh and goes; Thy mood is never one. With gentle hand in spring thou touches the fairy blossoms; The dew-drops shake and drop gently at their feet, In winter ominous shrieks portent of storms, When nature dons her garb of white And madly whirling snowflakes fill the air; Fiercely assails all within thy bound, a TSit of 0atuu Calmly by the meadow brook stand the cattle In a row drinking of the limped waters cool their thirst to quench; Nature seems so quiet and at rest, The cool green sward which scarcely touch The sun's bright rays for interlaced the branches Deep, seem on high almost to meet; And the leaves trembling as the winds soft murmur Through them blows, shadows here and there seem swaying, And lengthening, as the evening shades approach ; And the tiny ripples of the brook seem sighing, As they gently leap from side to side; Contentment shows in all lines which Nature brings. Within her time flowers bloom and cries of birds far off In the distance heard, a fitting calm and quiet over all the peaceful realm. 72 J^reammg of an Cbenins As the quiet shades of evening fall, And I at my casement sit alone; Covered with the sweet clematis vine, The young moon shifts its early beams; As o'er my head the golden light Sends flickering shadows through the leaves; Wafts a sweet incense from the flowers, Which whisper and rustle faintly. What are my thoughts this calm and beauteous eve? Seem undefined, for 'tis a soothing influence I feel, As tho' to happiness I was most near; A feeling holy seem my thoughts possess. And as yon moon so stately and benignly moves along, So like unto my feelings, majestic, calm, full of power ; 73 74 ^a^^ing €l)ime^ No human but a visionary hand has in me wrought, For this sweet hour alone I feel its presence. The benign influence the faint moon rays has given, E'en to-morrow perhaps a darken'd morrow will molest; Drive away these fitful visionary dreams that leave no trace Of the sweet influence of the time and place. m)t fountain spring The mountain spring as babbling in its course, Full many a heart made to rejoice; Its limpid waters cool dispense, The weary traveler's throat to quench; As weary with toil. Brought to his soul much joy, As cheerfully he pursues his way; Grateful to the mountain spring. an (Ebening in ifEa^ Sweet the evening calm, when o'er the hill The sun sinks softly to its nest amid the clouds; And brief respite from carking cares, its impress leaves behind ; The gentle zephyrs waft a message from the flowers. Nod and smile, and gently toss their heads in play, The cawing of the bluejay in its shrill call Seems to say, welcome, evening breeze of May, And the tiny bluebells in their mossy beds, seen sleeping to be. The gentle spring as silently it flows On its bank, the wild flowers freely grow ; Caressed by the soft evening wind, - Their fragrance scatter far and wide On the sweet May evening air. 75 ifaDfne J^atsi of autumn Like tiny diamonds glistening, casting a myriad sparks, The dew sparkling a shimmering whiteness on the leaves ; Birds on the frosty ground, their energies all bent On finding tiny crumbs their hunger to appease. A chilly wind vibrating on the early morning air, Sounds an herald of the departing sunny days; Scarce is felt the sun's pale rays. The violets are shivering in their narrow beds. The blasted petals of the rose scarce alive. Hold up their heads and look so weary; Plainly shows it feels the cold that has arrived. Desolate looks its garden mates and dreary. As the chilly autumn days go on, Winds a dying requiem sigh ; leave no cheer around ; 76 jFatiing SDapitf of autumn -]! Cheerless are the flowers for their perfume is all gone, The birds that once sang gayly are despond ; The sunshiny days of summer made light and warm, The buds that blossomed, the balmy winds a delight. OHl^en Spring comesi The soft whispering leaves. That made forest and glade so bewitching. Under a white blanket lies buried, Covered deep and warm. Until spring's gentle hand Uncovers all the land. The deep silvery pond, roused from her sleep, Its icy portals will ope, The fair lily will bend, in its deep waters look. And the bluejay will herald the coming of spring. Why from the grave, O skeleton, stalk forth Before my weary eyes, To flaunt the memory of the deeds, The ashes, long so dead. What dreary monotone does sing, And to my ears a ring, of by-gone sins, no, 'twas deeds not rightly done, That to my heart no mirth can bring. For wrong not right my conscience wrings. And of the past so sorely tried, 1 try to live, above the ashes of the dead, So leave me skeleton so dread. And with my conscience sore to wrestle. Time shall atone. 78 Ci^e 'Bttttetfl^ Watch the golden butterfly, With rain-bow colored wings; From the honeysuckle wild Dips, and has its fill Of the sweets so heavy On the bowers laden. Care-free, soars to farthest heights, Returns again and takes its flight; And its wings, with rain-bow hues. Glisten in the sun's warm beams. As with airy, fairy motion, Bids a welcome to the flowers; The flowers, one and all, Amid the garden, in its morning call. 79 The brook is singing merrily once more. The birds up in the treetops seem to know, And feel the warm bright sunshine in the air, The flowers nod, and to the breeze their incense fling. And meadows wide, and woods and glade. Their winter garments now have shed ; With radiant look shine forth, In spring's new garb, fresh, clean, and pure. The breezes kiss the grasses tall. The tiny insects long asleep,. Rise up to greet the bright new spring. The birds are on the wing. Their carols on the air ring. All nature merrily sings; Spring is come, is come awhile to stay, We will right merry be, while it is here. 80 Methought as by a stream I sat and mused, That on a path of golden light I trod, On my way to a far-distant star pointing to another path, as golden bright As was the one that I had started on, When lo, the second path, like the first, A hallowed beam threw all around ; Nowhere did it reach, and foot-sore could not find an end. In weariness, I then sat down, and while at rest An angel (sudden apparition) stood and pointed To another star, in the far distance, As I looked, and started once again, the spirit vanished. 8i 82 ^a^^ing Cl)ime^ I awoke to mundane thoughts, to find with my dream unended So had my life nothing accomplished, But always wending on my way, that nowhere led Expecting sooth, to find blissful joy, and rapture. Cl^e coming ^l^otDer The lime-trees touched by gentle zephyr hands, Throws shadows deep upon the land ; The red sun setting in the west, Throws an angry light, ere settling to its rest. The birds circling upon high, Seem trying to reach the far blue sky; Afraid seem they, and utter loud and piercing shrieks. Ominous sound to waiting ears the hawk, who fears, And soars mighty wings and flies. The humming-bird who fears not friend or foe. Intent on sipping sweets made bold ; Arises from his pleasant task to light again. For more he asks, Makes where he can a cozy bower. 83 84 ^a^^ing Cl)ime^ A pattering sound, and low-by rumble, Seem to make the earth quake; And tiny feet of wooded insects, seem to stumble, In their haste to reach a sheltered place. And the moaning winds blow all the harder, As raindrops larger grow, and fill the earth with water Suddenly cease, on every hand no sound is heard Except the dying thunder; The raindrops melting in the land, few in number, Seem seeking rest to find, and a counting of the time. ^pectreji of tt^t pa^t When in the town of Edinburg, I chanced upon a lonely lane That led unto a castle, old and ruined, The moss and verdure damp and clinging, Twined high upon the tottering walls; And the birds, their tiny house-nests built Upon the outer edges, where the sun, Its beams made warm the spot. The robin perched upon the edge, just tottering over. His nightly visits made, among the ruins. And in melodious accents upon the evening calm, Sent messages to his mate. And when the moon's full rays of silver, blent With the dark shadows of the crumbling wall, Spectre forms seem'd stalking about And as though uneasy, the shadows sought, Until the moon hid, behind a ragged cloud, 85 86 ^aie?^ing €l)tme^ The murmuring winds softly through the giant elms In whispers lingered, Their swaying branches, the weird branches seem'd to embrace, as I recall The days when monarch queens their sceptre swayed As ruler of the mighty domain That in their province lay. Their glory now to dust consigned, no more or less Than the ground upon which I trod, Alas, thought I, for what was all this glory. This mammoth castle built, which looked when made As though for ages it would stand. And generations in its walls enfold, A column bent and twisted, like a finger raised on high, A silent monitor before me stood, The whispering winds, seem an echo of the soft low murmur ^pttttt^ of tl)e ^a^t Sy Of the voices, of these the galleries trod; The broken column, a part still holds, And on the fragment of wall a piece of once rich tapestry still clings, The four walls, when it stood in all its height, Had resounded with strains of music, so intoxicating That no wonder I can feel my being tremble When these scenes come back again, The scent of wild roses as they clambered up the side And 'round the gallery wide. Threw a perfume through the wide doors. To the hall where the dancers held sway. And those shining walks of pebble, that in the moonlight look so white; Led to the edge of the rippling lake, An array of tiny pleasure craft held Rocked in perfect rhythm to the lullaby the zephyrs sang. ^a^^ing €I)tme^ All this then past, the fair inhabitants, Now silent spectres, in another land, Left their ghostly remanence for me, one of the few left To live again in contemplation sweet, yet sad, Of boastful days, when rich armored knights were wont to mingle With fair faces by their side. The luscious youth days, like a dream went by. And now the crumbling walls stand stark and bold. The moon has shifted behind a cloud. The shadows swaying ceased, and the spectres of the night all gone; A deadened stillness, the air surrounds The beauty of the scene, which the moonlight gave obscured, Vanished like my dream. Cl^e i^ale of l^tatt^ Death, O no, it cannot be, As yet 'tis but an earthly sphere; Until the ties broken asunder, The spell of earth dispelled and broken. Then into spheres above we enter Clad in white robes celestial. Old forms that were the long ago familiar, rise up To greet us as we float in hemispheric azure, For e'en 'tis but to leave this mundane sphere, To enter in another just beyond this vale of tears. Where hearts asunder will reunite. And all the broken earthly ties resume again, Discontent, bickering strife that here disturbed. All, all will then be gone, For there the ties are riveted never again to break asunder. 89 Little C^tngg jttafee tl^e mi^olt Atoms of dust when heaped together make a mighty array; Drench the earth with freshness, raindrops many, Mighty forces the billows when of one accord ; The ocean heave drive the gallant ship, to depths of death and despair. One seed the acorn made grow upon the monarch oak, And seed the flower produce and fruit the many; Ah, what a lesson from such a study we could derive, What world of meaning true the heart inspire; Trembles in the wind the little leaf, the stem A beauteous flower supports. Didst thou stop to think one tiny seed. Had its beginning flourished and grew; 90 Hittle €l)ing^ i^afte t^e Wt^olt 91 To many weary hearts gave pleasure, Admiration won, a notice gained. Sweet thought that tiny though an action. Yet with kindness given leaves its impression ; And each day a kindly act repeated. Leave in the whole an impress lasting ; For the soul is touched by kindness. Be the heart sordid, lost to virtue, Yet feeling still is there. And constant application to the rule, That virtue pursued brings a reward ; So quiet, persevering acts bring an return. Like bread cast upon the water is never lost, But finds its way to the giver again. So let us as we watch in Spring fair nature, As it rises in a burst of beauty our hearts incline And listen to the voice of conscience. 9 2 l^aief^efing Cliimc^ In its breathing the sweet words and lessons from nature gleaned ; *Twas not made without care and forethought By our Creator, Lord ; From a tiny seed the flower, the tree had its up- rising, A beginning has everything, and to-day. Not the day to come, when suits most our con- venience. The moral take to heart, and act. Learn from beginnings small a kingdom may yet be bought; Actions noble a heritage prove That ages will not crumble and let fall. But like every good act written in the book of life, Will when each page is covered. Impress the many make its mark the morals gleaned, As good our life has filled. Happiness too will be our gain. Like a myth will not slip away ; Hittle €t)ing^ piaht tl)e i©{)ole 93 For in good only is truth found The truth of living righteously, and giving freely, Spiritual blessings will follow For God remembereth and the good forgets he never. And faith implanted in the soil of human souls Will like the mighty branches of the oak. Throw its beneficent light and incense Far and wide; Enrich the sphere we daily live in, And our environments. Despair not ye who daily live in little acts of charity, For righteous living the sum of human existence makes. The little makes the many in the end. Drifting sands the shore leaves white and clean ; Scattered seeds of kindness sets well upon the soul ; And worthy are the little daily acts of life. Thou shalt find written at the end Of the page of life, well done good and faithful soul. Cl^e jHagic flute On the waves of night, Comes the far-off swell of a flute, Whose magic tones my heart bestir. Now sweet, but with a cadence low, Then again a wailing sound, As tho' a soul from paradise, lost and strayed. Then a trembling note, O could I tell the emotions play within my breast At that far-reaching note, so full of melody, A sweet lullaby now the air disturbs like the cooing of a mother At the cradle-side bending low; And yet the flute tones swell, what means that sound? Ah, 'tis the dripping waters, from a fountain, 94 €l)e i^agtc flute 95 That rise and fall at the dictates of the wind. Hark those birds of spring a-warbling? No, 'tis the magic flute again, Trills and high notes on the air sounding. A love song now the sweet soft cadence would allow, And trembling, lingering notes bring forth, O magic flute, but to call to mind, Thou the enchanter can produce, And on the heart-strings play a tune. Stirs and thrills to deepest depths, the heart so tenderly. IKetrojSpection As the shades of evening fall, With purple tints of twilight in the west, Where the sun has sunk to rest in my garden I sit (Under the shade of the maple to rest); And fair nature watch as it slowly sinks to sleep, To me the days of youth come back, When like fair visions in my path dreams were pleasant ; Full of beauty to my mind, Ah yes, if I could but realize in part. Noble missons and desires that teemed within my mind; How exalting, grand, and noble an example, Before striving humanity I could set; For those the light of encouragement shut out, And dark despair, taken hold of body and of mind. 96 FEB x^ i^,