2nd COPY, LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Chap. Copyright No. Shelf_.*-Cr-/<^ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. ^CCC^iL^ Poems and Songs By James Gowdy Clark %. "Ohl for the touch of a. vanished ha.nd, And the sound of a. voice that is still. ' %, COLUMBUS, OHIO PRESS OF CHAMPLIN PRINTING CO MDCCCXCVIII l\tOV .^v ib9B Copyright 1898, By Jennie Clark Jacobson, St. Anthony Park, Minn. i jv*/ ^'~'- .".wW-UVC»>' i^ra. / / u LC Control Number bVs^'^Vo 2007 530144 Poems and Songs To My Daughter JENNIE CLARK JACOBSON St Paul, Minn. CONTENTS Early Poems and War Period The Mountains of Life 29 Leona <^0 November 33 To My Mother's Spirit 35 My Mother is Near 3(i The Bird of Washington 37 Ocean Musings 38 Outcast 39 The Wood Robin 40 Scotland, I Love Thee 43 I Look for Thee 43 Sweet Ruth 44 Art Thou Living Yet? 45 The Beautiful Years of Our Love 47 Flowers are Dying 49 Star of the North 50 A Prophecy 51 Freemont's Battle Hymn 52 Freedom's Dead 55 The Children of the Battle-field 56 Minnie Minton 5S Sought But Never Found 60 When You and I were Soldier Boys 61 America and Ireland 63 The Rover's Grave 64 The Rock of Liberty 65 Contents The Boatman's Dream 66 The Old Mountain Tree 71 The Exile's Return 72 Joys of My Childhood 73 Oh ! Take Me from the Festal Throng 74 Moonlight and Starlight 75 Oreanna 76 We Cannot Give Thee Up 77 The Captive 78 Song of the Indian Mother 79 Moonlight Hours 81 Harry O'Lane 82 'Tis Sweet to be Remembered 83 Meet Me by the Running Brook 84 Let Us Love While We May 85 Marion Moore 86 Beautiful Annie 87 The Dawn of Redemption 88 The Beautiful Hills 89 Prophet of Nazareth 91 The Guardian Angel 92 Look Up 93 Where the Roses Never Wither 94 The Isles of the By and By 95 to Contents Written After His Fiftieth Birthday Lord, Keep My Memory Green 99 Dawn 100 The East and the West 101 ^^ Going Home 102 .The Picture 104 Night on the Prairie 105 V' The Mount of the Holy Cross 106 The Silver Pilgrim 109 Retrospection 112 i/The Woman and the Angel 114 I Care Not for this World Without Thee IIG By the Borders of the Sea 117 Our Dream by the River 118 Children's Day 119 The Captain's Signal 120 The Golden Dream 121 Completeness 123 Love's ]\Iorning Call 124 June Days 126 To Dr. James C. Jackson 127 Two Conquerors 128 My Prayer 130 The Infinite Mother 131 Love's Immortality 134 Our Love Shall Never Die 136 11 Contents Venus 137 A Fragment 138 The Woman in the Moon 139 On the Beach 140 The Voice of the People 141 The Martyr of Truth 144 A Song for the Period 147 A Vision of the Old and New 149 The North Star 153 Sleep, Robin, Sleep 154 Missing 155 The Voice of the Mountains 156 Two Lives 158 I Will Be With You 161 The Mocking Bird of Saticoy 162 Turn to Me Thou Lonely One 165 Let Me Rest 166 Star of My Soul 167 12 Contents After Sixty Years The People's Battle Hymn IVl Justice to "Liberty Enlightening the World" 173 A Fragment 179 Freedom's Reveille 180 The Fall of New Babylon 183 Fraternity 185 Old Glory 186 Our Babylon 188 Dawn on Mount Lowe 189 v-' "All for One and One for All" 191 The Inner Voice 193 The Old Age Dies 193 The Living Christ 197 Message of Mount Lowe 199 ■ Santa Catalina 202 A Voice in the Night 204 A Vision of Lost Atlantis 206 The City of the Clouds 210 i- The World of Trade 212 Jamie's Lullaby Song 213 Eternal Youth 214 The Sunny Side of Seventy 215 Mayata 217 A Tranquil Mind 218 A Fragment 219 13 Contents At Last ^20 To My First Born 231 Good Night and Good Morning 322 The Last Song 333 14 PREFACE In giving- to the world this new and complete edi- tion of my father's poems, I wish to thank the friends whose messages and deeds of kindness did much to cheer and convince him that he had not labored and sung in vain. Especially do I wish to express my gratitude to Mr. and Mrs. C. T. Havens for their care and devotion when failing health compelled him to leave those nearest and dearest for a more kindly climate. From their home in Southern California he sent out much of his best and truest work, and there, in sight of his beloved mountains, he sang his last song. Jennie Clark Jacobson. 15 INTRODUCTION James G. Clark belonged to the noble choir of peo- ple's poets of which Gerald Massey, Charles Mackay and William Morris are the most illustrious members on the other side of the water; he may be justly termed "America's Laureate of Labor," for no poet in the New World has written so many highly merit- orious poems in behalf of the toilers, nor has any singer expressed more beautifully or truthfully the highest aspirations of the new social revolution which is stirring the hearts of millions of men and women as has this simple, earnest and spiritually minded prophet of a better day. Mr. Clark descended from sturdy Puritan stock, and in his life of consecration to duty, we see the shad- owing forth again of a spirit which characterized more than one of his ancestors. William Clark, the first of the family to settle in the New World, came to Dorchester from England in 1630, and thirty-one years later he, with seven friends organized the first church in Northampton, Mass., over which Eleazor Mather was ordained min- ister. Mr. Clark raised and commanded a company in several Indian wars ; served for ten years as judge of the county court, and was for fourteen years a mem- ber of the general court. From this able, just and courageous Puritan, Mr. Clark was descended on his father's side. His ma- 17 Introduction tcrnal grandfather, Rev. James Gowdy, was an influ- ential Universalist minister, whose conspicuous cour- age in defending the weak and the wrgnged, his tender love for the oppressed and liis splendid inde- pendence of thought and action seem to have blos- somed afresh in his grandson, affording another illus- tration of the transmission of strong moral character- istics from generation to generation. The poet was born in Constantia, New York, in 1830. His mother was a woman of deep feeling and highly refined ; the exalted si)irituality which marked the life of Mr. Clark from dawn to dusk, seems to have come very largely from the noble-souled mother who shared so fully the hopes and aspirations of her son. At an early age the ])oet (lis])layed fnic musical talent anil no little poetical alMlity ; his mother encour- aged, stinudatcd and guided the l)oy, always empha- sizing the highest ideals and seeking to develop his spiritual nature. ]?y the time he liad arrived at his majority, he had won no small degree of popular favor through his songs, the words and nuisic of which he comptvsed. lie also sang most acceptably in public. At the request of his mother, for whom he ever cherished the deepest love, he composed "The Ever- Green Mountains of T.ife," a song which, in cluu-ch, home and sciuxil, has been snn<2- for nearly forty 18 Inirodudion years, and whose popularity has in no way dimin- ished. In later years the poet's religious sentiments deep- ened and broadened. Heaven became more near, more real and tangible than when he had sung : "Our gaze cannot soar to that beautiful land, But our visions have told of its bliss. And our souls by the gales of its gardens are fanned When we faint in the desert of this." At the time when the cloud of civil war was loom- ing up big and dark along our political horizon, and the passions and hopes of a great nation were ren- dering life oppressive and making suspense terrible for sensitive natures, the young poet was summoned to the deathbed of his mother. While listening to her loving admonitions theie came to him the words of his most beautiful lyric, "Leona." This poem was published in the New York Home Journal, then under the able editorial management of N. P. Willis and George Morris, and was more widely copied than any other poem published by that periodical. Mr. Clark's literary life may be divided in three parts: ('l)the lyric poet and popular song writer; (3) the poet of freedom ; and (?j) the laureate of labor. Leona marks the close of the first period. The war was now at hand ; the union of the states and the sla- very issues were on the lips and in the hearts of every one; something of the beauty and brightness of the 19 Introduction old home had gone out of life which now appeared more stern and august than ever before. He felt as he had never felt the personal responsi- bility which devolved upon him. Great issues involv- ing the happiness of millions were up for settlement. He was no longer justified in remaining the "idle singer of an empty day." Nay more; even poems which at certain times would have been appropriate must now give place to the great cause which he felt demanded his best work. He composed songs which he set to music and sang to vast multitudes in Northern towns. His "Free- dom's Battle Hymn" was second only in popularity to Mrs. Julia Ward Howe's "Battle Hymn of the Republic." In the interest of the Sanitary Commis- sion and the Soldier's Aid Society he visited city after city, electrifying the people as stirring song and music only can arouse and enthuse the awakened imagina- tion. He became a very real factor in the cause of the Union, and his war poems ceased to be on the lips of the multitude only after the flags were furled. The war closed, but the poet had come to under- stand that the human caravan could not rest; that civilization must advance or retrograde. A higher vantage-ground revealed nobler heights to be at- tained which had not been visible on the lower emi- nence. He refused to rest on the greensward by the wayside or to become a dreamer. For him new occa- 20 Introdudion sions taught new duties. He beheld the misery of the milHons who to him were brothers and sisters. He felt that God had given to him a voice with which to speak for the voiceless and burdened ones. He be- came the prophet, champion and friend of the toilers, throwing into their cause the same poetic fervor that had inspired Gerald IMassey and Charles Mackay during the Corn Law agitation, and William Morris in behalf of the burdened wage-earners during the later years of his life. Throughout the past two de- cades Mr. Clark has written more really excellent poems of progress and songs of the people than any other poet in America since the war of the rebellion. Mr. Clark was married while still a young man. Two children, a son and a daughter — James G. Clark, Jr., and Jennie (now Mrs. J. C. Jacobson) — came to bless his life, and in truth they proved a blessing ; their steadfast love and sympathy were ever his ; the relationship between the poet and his children was always very tender and beautiful. In several per- sonal letters penned to me during the past six years, he has referred most touchingly to his children, and especially to his daughter, Jennie Clark Jacobson. How fully this love and sympathy was reciprocated by his daughter is seen in the following extract from a personal letter received after her father had passed into the great Beyond : "He was the most loving 21 Introduction father and the truest friend a daughter ever had." It would be difficult to conceive of a nobler tribute from the lips of child than that. Of Mr. Clark's poems, it is needless to speak at length, for they are present and need no words of praise; they will live, for they hold the potency of Truth, clothed in beautiful and expressive verbiage ; they reveal deep spiritual insight, and at times are profoundly philosophical. This is notably true of that wonderful poem which recognizes the mother princi- ple in life and which begins, " I am Mother of Ivife and companion of God." His songs of the people will grow dearer and dearer as the years roll by, until "The King is slain in Babylon And the captive hosts go free." I now come to notice Mr. Clark's religious views. I have seldom known a more Christlike life than his. His heart was so like the great Nazarene's in its deep love and sympathy for all the world, and especially for the sufifering, the wronged and the sorrowing, that it often oppressed his great soul and not unfrequently tinged his songs with sadness. He gladly gave his life's richest treasures for the suffering and oppressed. In early life, with popularity and lucrative positions before him, he heard the august voice of Duty, and he unhesitatingly followed. Upwards along the 22 Introduction stony and thorn-strewn path of the reformer and the champion of justice, he pursued his way. The snow of age whitened his hrow, he faltered not; he had ascended the spiritual Alps and the nearer he came to the end, the clearer his vision, the sweeter his songs, and nobler his ideals. Why? Because he had lived the Christ-life as well as preached it. He discusses at length, questions of religion and life in many interesting personal letters, for I held him among my dearest friends, but he was rather back- ward about expressing his religious views in public, merely because he disliked profitless debates, which so often aroused angry passions and so seldom ac- complished good. During his last illness, when the light of the eternal day was breaking for him, he dic- tated the following which may be considered as his confession of faith : "1 do believe firmly in Jesus of Nazareth as repre- sented by the early Christians, to be the great ideal man of this planet, upon whose ideals of justice and love, human society and government, to be permanent and peaceable, must be reconstructed and re-estab- lished. I Ijelievc that He has power to regenerate human beings, so far as they permit the vital es- sence of His life to flow into theirs, and that thus, in the great essential sense, is the highest and most loving life of which we have record ; He is under the 23 Introdudion Infinite love, the natural Redeemer of the race. Fur- thermore, I believe in the inter-communication be- tween the two worlds, under conditions, however, that need to be carefully considered and understood, and I believe that these things will grow plainer as the race becomes more spiritualized — until they become a basis for a common religion, with the Son of Man as the vitalizing and controlling essence of the whole. "As regards Christ's personality, I wish to say that, in the contemplation of His character and life, I have derived what has been the best and most comforting and inspiring experiences of my existence." Mr. Clark never doubted the love of God or the final triumph of Right. He believed that a new social order was at hand ; a social democracy based on the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man. His exalted faith buoyed him up in life's darkest hour; "I always know," he wrote in one of his letters, "that His banner over me is Love." The benumbing ma- terialism of our age had no influence on his soul ; he felt the presence of the Unseen ; he knew within his soul that death was the ante-room of a truer life. His closing years were crowded with noble works , in fact, they were his most fruitful years. The great cause of the industrial millions became his cause, and the singer of earlier days became at once prophet, 24 Introdudion poet and apostle of a juster, nobler and truer order. His best poems were composed in the last two de- cades of his stay with us. At a time in life when most men, even the noblest workers in God's vineyard, sink by the wayside to rest, he pressed forward with the soul of youth aflame with divine enthusiasm, sending message after message to cheer the burdened ones, while with the courage of an old-time prophet he cried out against oppression and injustice, iicfore his death, he beheld many bright visions of his loved ones on the other side who were waiting to welcome him to the larger life, and at times the veil was lifted and he caught glimpses of the beauty of the home of the soul of which he had so beautifully sung. A life like his is ever a strong inspiration to others ; his was one of the most deeply spiritual natures I have ever known, one of the most conscientious and lovable friends it has been my fortune to enjoy. He was one of nature's noblemen — a prophet, a poet and a man. B. O. Flower. 35 Early Poems and H^ar Period THE MOUNTAINS OF LIFE There's a land far away mid the stars, we are told, Where they know not the sorrows of time; Where the pure waters wander through valleys of gold. And life is a treasure sublime : 'Tis the land of our God, 'tis the home of the soul, Where ages of splendor eternally roll, Where the way-weary traveler reaches his goal On the evergreen mountains of life. Our gaze cannot soar to that beautiful land, But our visions have told of its bliss ; And our souls by the gales from its gardens are fanned When we faint in the deserts of this ; And we sometimes have longed for its holy repose When our spirits were torn with temptations and woes, And we've drunk from the tide of the river that flows From the evergreen mountains of life. Oh ! the stars never tread the blue heavens at night But we think where the ransomed have trod ; And the day never smiles from his palace of light But we feel the bright smile of our God. We are traveling homeward, through changes and gloom, To a kingdom where pleasures unceasingly bloom, And our guide is the glory that shines through the tomb. From the evergreen mountains of life. 29 LEONA Leona, the hour draws nigh, — The hour we've ^waited so long, For the angel to open a door through the sky, That my spirit may break from its prison and try Its voice in an infinite song. Just now, as ihc shunbcrs of night Came o'er mo with peace-giving breath. The curtain half lifted, rcveaknl to my sight Those windows which look on the kingdom of light That borders the River of Death. And a vision fell solenui and sweet, J^ringing gleams of a morning-lit land ; I saw the white shore which the pale waters beat, And I heard the low lull as they broke at their feet Who walked on the beautiful strand. And I wondered why spirits should cling To their clay with a struggle and sigh. When life's purple autmun is better than spring, And the soul flics away like a sparrow, to sing In a climate where leaves never die. Leona, come close to my bed. And lay your dear hand on my brow; The same touch that blest me in days that are fled, And raised the lost n~)scs of youth from the dead. Can brighten the brief moments now. We have loved from the cold world apart ; And your trust was too generous and true For their hate to o'erthrow : when the slanderer's dart Was rankling deep in my desolate heart. T was dearer than ever to you. 30 Leona I thank the Great Father for this, Tliat our love is not lavished in vain; Each germ, in the future, will blossom to bliss, And the forms that we Ujvc, and the lips tliat we kiss. Never shrink at the shadow of pain. By the light of this faith am 1 taught That death is but action begun ; In the strength of this hope have I struggled and fought With the legions of wrong, till my armrjr has caught The gleam of Eternity's sun. Leona, look forth and behold! From headland, from hillside, and deep, The day king surrenders his banners of gold; The twilight advances through woodland and wold, And the dews are beginning to weep. The moon's silver hair lies uncurled, Down the broad-breasted mountains away ; Ere sunset's red glories again shall be furled On the walls of the west, o'er the plains of the world, I shall rise in a limitless day. Oh ! come not in tears to my tomb. Nor plant with frail flowers the sod : There is rest among roses too sweet for its gloom. And life where the lilies eternally bloom, Tn the balm-breathing gardens of God. Yet deeply those memories burn Which bind me to you and to earth; And I sometimes have thought that my being would yearn, In the bowers of its beautiful home, to return And visit the home of its birth. 31 Leona 'IVonld even hi- pU-.isMiit to stay, And walk by yoiit sidi- to llii- last; Ihit (he laiid-brcczc of I leaven is bej^imiinj;' to play, Life's sliadows are meeting' I'Uernity's day, And its luiiiiilt is hushed in Ihi- past. Leona, ^ood by. Should the im irf 'i'hat is }4aliitrinj^' now ever be- Too dark for yonr laith, yon will lonj; for relief;. And, reinend)er, I lie journey, though lonesome^ brief, Over lowland and river, to tne. 'ly as NO VliMBliR The red sun ^atlicis up his beams, 'Jo bid llie withered earlh farewell, And voices from the swelhng streams Are mingling with tlie evening bell; The cold lake sobs with restless grief, Where late the water-lilies grew, While autLimn fowl, and aiitmnn leaf, Arc sailing down ihc rivers blue. Forsaken are the woodlanrl shrines. The bluebird and the wren have fled, And winds are wailing through tlie pines A dirge for summer's glorious dead; E'en man forsakes his daily strife, And nuises on the bright things flown, As if in Nature's changing life He saw the piclme of liis own, I often think at this sad hour. As evening weeps her earliest tear. And sunset gilds the naked bower, And waves are l>reaking cold and clear. Of that glad time, wliose memory dwells Like starlight <)\:r life's rlr>ndy weather, When side by side we roved the dells Of dear New England's coast together. 'Twas on old I'lymoutli's rork-famed shore, One calm November night with tliee, I watched tlie long light trembling o'er The billows of the eastern sea; The weary day harf simk to r'-st Beyond the lines of leafless wood. And guardian clouds, from south to west. Arrayed in hues of crimson stood. .'53 No'vember We climbed the hill of noble graves, Where the stern patriarchs of the land Seemed listening to the same grand waves That freed them from the oppressor's hand ; We talked of spirits pure and kind, With gentle forms and loving eyes, — Of happy homes we left behind, In vales beneath the western skies. A few brief days, — and when the earth Grew white around the traveler's feet, And bright fires blazed on every hearth, We parted never more to meet Until I go where thou art gone. From this dark world of death and blight. And walk with thee above the sun That sank upon thy grave to-night. I hear the muffled tramp of years Come stealing up the slope of Time ; They bear a train of smiles and tears, Of burning hopes and dreams sublime : But future years may never fling A treasure from their passmg hours, Like those that come on sleepless wing, From memory's golden plain of flowers. The morning breeze of long ago Sweeps o'er my brain with soft control, Fanning the embers to a glow Amidst the ashes round my soul ; And by the dim and flickering light I see thy beauteous form appear. Like one returned from wanderings bright. To bless my lonely moments here. 34 TO MY MOTHER'S SPIRIT Come to my weary heart, wand'ring from duty, Spirit that guarded my pathway in youth, Come in the beams of thy glorified beauty, Smile on a soul that is struggling for truth ; Thou hast been with me when pleasures were fleeing, Silv'ring the night-time of sorrow with love, Floating like light through the clouds of my being, — Come to me now from thy dwelling above. Come to my couch when the wide world reposes, Watch o'er the slumbers and visions of night, Rest on my hopes like the dew on the roses ; Bring all the budding ones forth to the light. True as the stars o'er the mountain storm playing, Faithful through trial, temptation, and pain, Thou hast been true when my spirit was straying. Come, and I never will grieve thee again. 35 MY MOTHER IS NEAR Sweet mother, the birds irom our bowers have fled, llie reaper iias gatliered his sheaves, The glorious suiiiiiier hes silent and dead, And the land like a pale mourner grieves ; But the garden ol mem'ry is blooming to-day With llovvers and leaves ever new. And the birds and the fountains around it that play Are singing, dear mother, of you. Like green shores receding beyond the blue seas Seem the years by your tenderness blest, And youth's merry music grows faint on the breeze That is wafting me on to life's west; Yet beautiful seems the mild glance of your eye, And the blessing your fond spirit gave, As the mists of the valley hang bright in the sky Though the mountains are lost in the wave, I wonder, sometimes, if the souls that have flown Return to the mourners again, And 1 ask for a sign from the trackless unknown Where millions have questioned in vain ; I see not your meek, loving face through the strife That would blind me witli doubting and fear, But a voice murmurs "Peace" to the tumult of life, And I know that my mother is near. The cold world may cover my patliway with frowns, And mingle with bitter each jov ; It may load me with crosses, and rob me of crowns, I have treasures it cannot destroy; There's a green, sunny isle in the depths of my soul WHiosc roses the winds never strew. And the billows and breezes around it that roll Bring tidings of heaven and you. 36 THE BIRD OF WASHINGTON When the winds are unchained o'er the plains of the world, And clouds burst their bonds on the hills, When the banner of storm o'er the deep is unfurled. And terror the human heart thrills, — 'Tis then that I fly to my aerie on high, And gaze on the battle of billow and sky : I laugh in my glee while the elements rave, And they call me the bird of the Brave. When Liberty looks on the woes of the world Through clouds of oppression and crime, When tyrants and knaves from their high thrones are hurled, And men break the fetters of Time, — 'Tis then that I rise on the death-rolling night. And strike for the brave in the battle of Right : I laugh as the legions of tyranny flee. And thev call me the bird of the Free. 37 OCEAN MUSINGS TuK sun Ikis hid his licry eye 'Neath quiet evening's jewelled brow, And from her yellow easement in the sky The musing- moon is gazing now : The elear, soft glimmer of her erown Behind us paves the waters wide, While, from their distant walls, her guards look down To see their faees in the tide. A spell of tranquil glory hinds The bosom of the voieeless deep. And, gently dimpknl by the powerless winds, The ^\•aves in laughing lieauly sleep: And, basking 'neatii the dreamy smiles C^f mingled shade and misty light, Lie the dim summits of oiu- native isles, Reposing in the arms of niglil. Slowly om- bark, to realms more new. Moves on before the moving moon. While we look back to take our lingering view, Through night's mysterious summer noon. Of hapi\v seenes forever down, — Scenes which now bi\'mi from \'on loved shore, More bright than when we deemetj them all om- own, And time flew lightly, gavlv o'er. Thus, when the sun of 1 lope's bright day Sinks down behind Life's lonely main. Will the mild moon of memory lend her ray, Disclosing those fair scenes again. Where sleep the smiles of youth's lost dream: And manhood's eye with tears shall fill. To sec the waves of vanished glory gleam More hwely and enchanting still. 38 OUTCAST Alas for her who sits alone Beside the sepulchre of hope, With none to roll away the stone And bid the llowers that lined life's slope Return once more, and (ill the i^Idoui With sweeter life and fresher bloom : Better for her the voiceless tondj , Without a si^n to mark the spot Except the blue forg^et-me-not, That sits upon the lap of sprinp^ Before the robins come to sing, Or bluebirds i)ipe their flule-like tnncs; Before the icy chains are riven That fetter foimtain, lake, and river, And from the snows that chill the sod Looks up to greet the eye of ("lod, A pronn'sc of celestial Junes, When in the qm'ckcning light of Heaven Our dead shall live and bloom forever. 39 THE WOOD ROBIN IJow calmly the lin};ciiiig liglil iicauis back over woodland and plain, As an infant, ere closing ils eyelids at niidit, Looks back on its niotlu'r ap^ain. The wood robin sings at my door, And her song is the sweetest i hear From all the sweet birds (hat incessantly pour Their notes throngh the noon of the year. 'Twas thns in my boyhood time, That season of emerald and gold, Vav (he storms and the shadows lliat fall on onr prime Had told me that pleasures grow old; I loved, in the warm summer eves. To recline on the welcoming sod, \\\ (he broail spreading temple of twilight and leaves, Where the wood robin \\H)rshipped her God. I knew not (hat life couUl endure The burden it beareth to-day, And I felt that my soul was as happy and pure As the tt>nes of (lu> wood robin's lay. Oh beaudful, l)eau(iful youth, "With its visions of hope and love, How cruel is life to reveal ns the truth, That peace only liveth above ! The wood \oh\\\ trills the same tune l-'rom her thicket in garden and glen; And the landscajie and sky, and the twilight of June, Look lovi'lv and glowing as then. — 10 The Wood Robin Bui I lliiiik of the glories lliat fell Jii Uic harvest of sorrcjw aixl Ic.'irs, Till the song of the forest bird sounds like a lIendor of youlh Will return to me yet, and my soul Will (loat in the sunlight of beauty .uid triilh, Where the tides of the inCunlc roll. C)h ! 1 f.iin would arist; and srt s;iil hrcjui the lowlands of trouble ;uid pain ; But 1 wait on the shore for the tarrying gale, And sigh for Ihe haven in v.iiu. And I watch for the ripples to jjlay And tell nic the breezes are nigh, Like a sailor who longs to \n: wafted away Tcj the lands that li(; hifl in the sky. But the whippof)rwill wails on tlu; mof)r, And day has deserted the west ; The mr)on glimmers flown through the vines at my dor)r, Aufl th(; robin has flown to her \\^^^^i. Adieu, gentle biid ! I'.ic 1li<- sim Shall line the green forest with light, TlK)u'lt wake from thy slumber more merry than one Who lieai'd the*' and bh-st thee to night. 41 SCOTLAND, I LOVE THEE Scotland ! I love thee : I cling to thee yet, As a young maiden clings to her lover ; 1 love thy gray mountains, and never forget The glens which their dark shadows cover ; I know that the long weary leagues of the main Now hide thy green valleys from me, And I know that I never may tread them again, — Yet, Scotland, I'm dreaming of thee. O, Scotland, I love thee : I turn to thy shore With a song for each scene of my childhood, As a bird o'er the billow where rough waters roar Will turn to her nest in the wildwood : Then give me the storm-braving headlands that stand Like sentinels guarding the sea. The homes and the hearts of my dear native land, — O Scotland ! I'm dreamine of thee. 42 / LOOK FOR THEE I KNOW that in this world of strife, Our paths will ever parted be, Yet sometimes on the hill of Life I pause, and turn to look for thee. I trace our footsteps back again, Down Youth's forsaken slope of flowers. Where all we knew of hope or pain Passed by, like April sheen and showers. I see the glen, the grove, the rill. Where last we sung of joys to come, And mourn to think we're living still Without a joy, without a home. Without a pillow for the head. Which may not know nor seek relief Till, in the dwelling of the dead. It finds forgetfulness of grief. The radiant June of love has fled. With all its birds and blossoms gay ; And we, like forms among the dead, Recalling spirits back to clay. Still cheerlessly must wander through The silent vaults of buried years, Where sleep the hopes no longer true. And Memory lives in groans and tears. We're traveling on a lonesome road, Deserted by the gleam of day. And on the heart there lies a load That Death alone can take av/ay. Farewell ! Thy soul, oppressed with strife, Will weep for scenes no more to be ; And sometimes, on the hill of Life, I'll pause, and turn to look for thee. 43 SWEET RUTH The summer will soon be liere, sweet Ruth ; For the birds of brighter bowers Are singing their way from the balmy south To the land of opening fiowers. But the summer will fade, and the flowers will die, And the birds from bank and plain Go mourning back to a warmer sky, While I wait for thee in vain. Oh ! many a heart and many a hand, I have prized in pain and bliss, Have found that rest in a better land Which they never knew in this ; And of all the forms that have fled with thee. From a kingdom fraught with tears, There are none that seem like thine to me Through the golden mist of years. But I never have wished thee back, sweet Ruth, In the years that since have rolled ; And I guard the memory of thy truth As a miser would his gold : The loneliest glens of my being know How the birds of peace may sing, And the darkest waves have caught the glow From a guardian angel's wing. 44 ART THOU LIVING YET? Is there no grand, immortal sphere Beyond this realm of broken ties, To fill the wants that mock us here. And dry the tears from weeping eyes? Where Winter melts in endless Spring, And June stands near with deathless flowers, Where we may hear the dear ones sing Who loved us in this world of ours? I ask, and lo ! my cheeks are wet With tears for one I cannot see : mother, art thou living yet. And dost thou still remember me? 1 feel thy kisses o'er me thrill, Thou unseen angel of my life ; I hear thy hymns around me trill An undertone to care and strife ; Thy tender eyes upon me shine, As from a being glorified. Till I am thine and thou art mine, And I forget that thou hast died : I almost lose each vain regret In visions of a life to be : But, mother, art thou living yet, And dost thou still remember me? The Springtimes bloom, the Summers fade, The Winters blow along my way ; But over every light or shade Thy memory lives by night and day; It soothes to sleep my wildest pain, Like some sweet song that cannot die, And, like the murmur of the main. Grows deeper when the storm is nigh : 45 Art Thou Li'ving Yet? I know the brightest stars that set Return to bless the yearning sea, — But, mother, art thou Hving yet, And dost thou still remember me? I sometimes think thy soul comes back From o'er the dark and silent stream, Where last we watched thy shining track, To those green hills of which we dream ; Thy loving arms around me twine, My cheeks bloom younger in thy breath. Till thou art mine and I am thine. Without a thought of pain or death : And yet, at times my eyes are wet With tears for her I cannot see : O mother, are thou living yet, And dost thou still remember me? 46 THE BEAUTIFUL YEARS OF OUR LOVE I STOOD by that stream where the wild roses grew In the green bloom of summer when Nature looked new, And I thought of the time that I roamed there with you, In the beautiful years of our love. We were poor, but the pearl of affection was ours, And we loved the glad world with its sunshine and showers. For life was a wayside of fountains and flowers, In the beautiful years of our love. Now far from that valley I wander, and dream Of the raptures that perished with love's morning gleam ; And day is more lonely than night used to seem In the beautiful years of our love : For I miss your affection, the rose, and the stream That murmured its tune by the moon's mellow beam : Ah ! pleasure seemed real, and life a bright dream, In the beautiful years of our love. There are isles in Life's ocean we cannot forget Till the light of its sun in the billow has set. And our souls never turn but with longing regret To the beautiful years of our love : For we dreamed of the pleasure, and saw not the woe, Which Time o'er the scenes of the future might throw. And we hoped for the joys that we never should know, In the beautiful years of our love. 47 The Beautiful Years of Our Lo-ve As the exile looks back from the waves of the deep To the blue-fading hills where his forefathers sleep, Oh, thus when the waves of the present time sweep O'er the beautiful years of our love. Do our souls from the future look backward through tears To that shore where the splendor of youth disappears, And weep o'er the graves of those time-buried years, The beautiful years of our love. 48 FLOWERS ARE DYING Flowers are dying, Drooping, dying, On the liillside and the plain ; Birds are flying, Homeward hieing To the southern groves again. And the day retires in glory Westward with his i)urple shield, Like some hero, famed in story. Marching from the battle-field . Hopes are dying, Darkly dying; All the world looks back with pain, Vainly sighing. Vainly trying To recall the past again. Every vine to something cleaveth, Life grows leafless while it clings ; Every beam a shadow leaveth. Every hope a memory brings. Oh ! forever Down Life's river Storms will rend the quivering sail; Ties will sever, Hearts will shiver, In the bleak and bitter gale. Bards may sing the bright ideal, Prophets dream of fairer skies ; All must feel the shadowy real. And the present never dies. 49 STAR OF THE NORTH Star of Freedom burning high In the cold, dark northern sky, See the suff'rer turn to thee, Guide him safe from slavery. Chorus. Star of the North, we follow thee. We follow thee to Liberty, Nor dread the snows of Canada, With Freedom's blood to warm our veins, And Freedom's fire to melt our chains. When our hearts, bowed low with toil. Bleed upon a tyrant's soil. Through the gloom of slavery's night. Star of Freedom, pour thy light. When the bloodhound's angry howl Thrills with fear the faltering soul, — When for life we struggling pray, Star of Freedom, gild the way. When we drop the galling chain. When the promised land we gain. When we dwell where men are free, Still, bright star, we'll turn to thee. 50 A PROPHECY {t852) How glorious, how grandly bright Above the dark and suffering Earth, The Sun comes forth in deathless might! He has a smile for every hearth, And shines alike on scenes of crime And paths of angel purity, But never on a fairer clime Than that from which a slave must flee To find the boon his spirit craves. Yet cannot find where proudly waves The starry banner of the Free. Children of Afric's burning skies, Columbia's eagle yet will rise. And spread above your bleeding forms The pity of his sheltering wings, — Wings that have braved the raging storms Which rock the thrones of despot kings ! For Hope looks from the clouds above. And Liberty's clear bells are ringing, And generous hearts, like flowers of love, From every mountain-side are springing. From California's yellow sands To old Niagara's mighty fall, Where the broad lakes of Northern lands Leap madly from their mountain wall, They come, — they come in robes of light. With Freedom's lightning blazing o'er them They're bursting through Oppression's night, And tyrants fly in dread before them. 51 FREMONT S BATTLE HYMN Oh, spirits of Washington, Warren and Wayne ! Oh, shades of the heroes and patriots slain ! Come down from your mountains of emerald and gold, And smile on the banner ye cherished of old ; Descend in your glorified ranks to the strife, Like legions sent forth from the armies of life ; Let us feel your deep presence as waves feel the breeze. When white fleets like snowflakes are drowned in the seas. As the red lightnings run on the black, jagged cloud. Ere the thunder-king speaks from his wind-woven shroud. So gleams the bright steel along valley and shore, Ere the conflict shall startle the land with its roar: As the veil which conceals the clear starlight is riven When clouds strike together, by warring winds driven. So the blood of the race must be offered like rain. Ere the stars of our country are ransomed again. Proud sons of the soil where the palmetto grows. Once patriots and brothers, now traitors and foes, Ye have turned from the path which our forefathers trod, And stolen from man the best gift of his God, — Ye have trampled the tendrils of love in the ground, Ye have scofifed at the laws which the Nazarene found. Till the great wheel of justice seemed blocked for a time. And the eyes of humanity blinded with crime. 53 Fremont^ s Battle Hymn The hounds of Oppression were howling the knell Of martyrs and prophets at gibbet and cell, While Mercy despaired of the blossoming years When her harpstrings no more shall be rusted with tears ; But God never ceases to strike for the right, And the ring of His anvil came down through the night. Though the world was asleep and the Nation seemed dead, And Truth into bondage by Error was led. Will the banners of morn at your bidding be furled, When the day-king arises to quicken the world? Can ye cool the fierce fires of his heat-throbbing breast. Or turn him aside from his goal in the west? Ah ! sons of the plains where the orange-tree blooms. Ye may come to our pine-covered mountains for tombs, But the light ye would smother was kindled by One Who gave to the universe planet and sun. Go strangle the throat of Niagara's wrath. Till he utters no sound on his torrent-cvit path ; Go bind his great sinews of rock-wearing waves, Till he begs at your feet like your own fettered slaves ; Go cover his pulses with sods from the ground. Till he hides from your sight like a hare from the hound ; Then swarm to our borders, and silence the notes That thunder of Freedom from millions of throats. 53 Fremont's Battle Hymn Come on with your chattels, all worn, from the soil Where men receive scourging in payment for toil ; Come, robbers ! come, traitors ! we welcome y..u all, As the leaves of the forest are welcomed by fall : The birthright of manhood awaits for your slaves, But prisons and halters are waiting for knaves ; And the blades of our freemen are longing to rust With their blood who would bury om stars in the dust. They fade unlamented from life and from sight Whose lives are but shadows on Liberty's light ; They slumber unblest by fraternity's star W' ho have blocked up the track of huiuanity's car ; Regarded, when dead, by the wise and the good, As shepherds regard the deatl wolf in the wood. And only unhated when Heaven shall efface The memory of wrong from the souls of the race. The streams -may forget how they mingled our gore. And the myrtle entwine on their borders once more ; The song-birds of Peace shall return to our glades, And children clasp hands where their fathers clashed blades ; Columbia shall rise from her trial of fire More i)iu-e than she came from the hand of her sire : But Freedom will point the cold finger of scorn When History tells where her traitors were born. 54 FREEDOM'S DEAD All ! green their glory long will be Who give their lives U) liberty; Their names will linger broad and bright When other names are lost to sight ; Their memory will dearer grow While sounding seas and rivers flow ; And, though the world is black with crime, Their fame shall live, a light sublime, A pillar of deliverance burning, To which th' oppressed, for Freedom yearning May turn, as Israel turned of yore, And view from far the Promised Shore. 55 THE CHILDREN OF THE BATTLE-FIELD Upon the field of (R^ttyshurt;- Tlic stininicr sun was liif;li, When l''rcccK)in met licr haughty foe Hcneath a northern sky. Among the heroes of the North That swelled her grand array, And rushed like mountain eagles forth From happy homes away, There stood a man of humble fame, — A sire (^f children three, — And gazed within a little frame II is ])ie(ure(l ones to see: And blame him not if, in the strife, lie breathed a soldier's prayer, — "O Father! shield the soldier's wife, And for his children care." ITjKin the field of Gettysbiug, When morning shone again. The crimson cloud of battle burst In streams of fiery rain: Our legions quelled the awful Hood Of shot and steel and shell. While banners, marked wi(h ball and blood, Aroimd them rose and fell : And none more nobly won the name Of champion of the Free Than he who pressed the little frame That held his children three; And none were braver in the strife Than he who breathed the prayer, — "O Father! shield (he soldier's wife, And for his children care." 56 Children of the Battle- field Upon I lie field of ( iettyshiiif^ J lie full moon slowly rose, — She looked, and saw ten thousand brows All pale in death's repose; And down beside a silver stream, [•"rem other forms away, C'alni as a warrior in a dream, r)iir fallen (-f)mrade lay; II is limbs weri; cold, his sightless eyes Were fixed upon Ihc three .Sweet stars that rose in inrmory's slci(;s To li^ht him o'er dc.ith's sea. "Jlicn honored be the sohlicr's life. And hallowed be his ])rayer, — "O J'\-ither! shi(-ld the soldier's wife, And for his (•hildrcn care." r>7 MINNIE MINTON Minnie Minton, in the shadow I have waited here alone, — On the battle's gory meadow, Which the scythe of death has mown, I have listened for your coming Till the dreary dawn of day. But I only hear the drumming, As the armies march away. Chorus. Minnie ! dear Minnie, I have heard the angel's warning, 1 have seen the golden shore ; I will meet you in the morning Where the shadows come no more, — Nevermore, nevermore. Minnie Minton, I am wounded. And I know that I must die, By a stranger host surrounded, And no loved one kneeling nigh ; And I fain would hear you whisper In the twilight cold and gray. But I only hear the tramping As the armies march away. Minnie Minton, I am weary. And T long to reach my goal ; Yet the billows of old Erie Blue upon my memory roll ; And I pause to hear you singing By the waters of the bay. But I only hear the bugles As the armies march away. 58 Minnie Minion Minnie Minton, I've been dreaming Of those moments gone before, Ere I saw the sabres gleaming On the fields of death and gore ; And I thought that you were kneeling O'er the turf whereon 1 lay, But I woke to see the banners As the armies march away. Minnie Minton, I am dying. As the world recedes from view, I can see the old flag flying O'er the rebel rag of blue ; I behold the heroes saintly Who have fallen in the fray, And their bugles warble faintly As they beckon me away. 51) SOUGHT BUT NEVER FOUND We'll sing to-night of other times That bloomed along the years Ere war had clanged its iron chimes, And filled our homes with tears ; And we'll recall a gallant form That sleeps among the slain, And dream that, safe irom shot and storm, Our brother lives again. We know the flag for which he died May never more be furled ; We know our land, though crucified, Will rise and bless the world, — But hearts must bleed while lands rejoice, And States forget their strife : We long to hear our brother's voice Blend with the sounds of life. The God of Peace rolls back the gloom. And stills the combat's roar, And bursting shell, and cannon's boom. Are heard in wrath no more; But who may count their distant graves, Unmarked by name or mound. Who. 'mid the home-returning braves, Were sought but never found? 60 WHEN YOU AND I WERE SOLDIER BOYS Oh, the stormy times we knew, In our suit of army blue, When you and I were soldier boys together, Will ; Ere they laid you in the soil, Where a glory crowns your toil As the springtime crowns the gloomy winter weather. Will. Chorus. Oh, gallant, gallant Will, Your noble heart is still Where the river v/aves roll in the sun ; You never more will thrill At the wild bugle's trill, Nor wake at the roar of the gun, — Nor march to the war drum rolling. Nor march to the war drum rolling, Nor march to the war drum rolling. Nor shout when the battle is won. Ah ! we loved each other more For the trials that we bore, When you and I were soldier boys in battle. Will ; And our hearts the stronger grew For the dangers we passed through, 'Mid cannons' crash and rifles' deadly rattle, Will. Chorus. Though my fighting time has passed Like a storm upon the blast, And I walk no more among the dead and dying. Will, I recall the days with pride When we battled side by side, And the stripes and stars above our heads were flying, Will. Chorus. 61 When You and I Were Soldier Boys And I still remember you, Of the many tried and true, Who slumber now in southern glen and valley, Will ; And sometimes in a dream Will the old flag o'er me stream, While the spirits of the brave around it rally. Will. Chorus. 62 AMERICA AND IRELAND We will not forget thee, old Ireland, now That the storm-cloud hangs over thy borders. And the sigh of submission expires in a vow To be free as thy girdle of waters : The leaves of the shamrock are spreading afar, And we honor the heroes who bore them, When Siicridan, Mulligan, Corchran, and Meagher Like pillars of fire went before them. The roar of the lion is heard in the night. As he drinks from the depths of thy fountains ; But the eagles are pluming their pinions for flight On the crags of Columbia's mountains. They will fall on the lion with talons of steel, When the war-cry is raised by their brothers; They will strike, and the power of the tyrant shall reel 'Neath the pangs he has meted to others. Forget not the time when the spirit of Moore Like a tropic breeze moved in thy bowers. And warmed every garden and glen of thy shore Till they blossomed with Liberty's flowers ; But languish not now for the summer of song, — Lo ! the autumn wind over thee rages; The fields are all ready, the reapers are strong, And they rush to the harvest of ages. O Erin ! thy glorious hair mingles with gray, And thy blue eyes are swimming in sorrow, But the millions who mock at thy visions to-day Shall view thee in wonder to-morrow : Thou shalt rise from the anguish now rending thy breast, And hurl on the scofifer thy scorning ; Thy night shall be lit by the stars of the West, Till it breaks into Freedom's full morning. 63 THE ROVER'S GRAVE TiiEY bore him away when day liad fled, And the storm was rolling hi<;h, And they laid him down in his lonely bed By the light of an angry sky; The lightning Hashed, and the wild sea lashed The shore with its foaming wave, And the thunder passed on the rushing blast, As il howled o'er the Ivover's (irave. No longer for him — like a fearless bird — Yon ])ark lloats under the lee. No longer his voice on the gale is heard When its guns peal over the sea ; But near him the white gull builds on high Her nest by the gleaming wave, And the heaving billows groan and die On the sands of the Rover's Grave. €4 THE ROCK OF LIBERTY A SONG for the rock, the stern old rock, That braved the blast and the billows' shock; It was b(jrn with Time on a barren shore. And laughed with scorn at the breakers' roar I 'Twas here that first the Pilgrim band Came weary up to the foaming strand ; And the tree they reared in those days gone by. It lives, it lives, — and ne'er shall die ! Thou firm old rock, in the ages past Thy brow was bleached by the warring blast; But thy wintry toil with the wave is o'er. And the billows beat thy base no more ! Yet countless as thy sands, old rock. Are the hardy sons of the Pilgrim stock ; And the tree they reared in the days gone by. It lives, it lives, — and ne'er shall die ! Then rest, old rock, on the sea-beat shore, — Our sires are lulled by the ocean's roar ! 'Twas here that first their hymns were heard, O'er the startled cry of the white sea-bird! 'Twas here they lived, 'twas here they died, — Their forms repose on the green hill's side ; But the tree they reared in the days gone by. It lives, it lives, — and ne'er shall die! 65 THE BOATMAN'S DREAM With \o\\g arm o'er the i)rairics tossed, And feet that bathed in tropic spray, And head all white with Northern frost, The mighty sire of waters lay : His lingers gleamed with priceless mines, Or watered herds along the plains, And lowly grass and lofty ]>ines Drew life and grandeur from his veins. The June winds left their mountain towers Which guard the Valleys of the West, With odors from a million ilowers To soothe the sleeping giant's rest ; They danced along his pulsing form. With many a quaint and charming grace. And threw their kisses, sweet and warm. In dimples on his (]uict face. It was the time when lunnan souls Their visioned thoughts of Heaven renew. And inspiration o'er us rolls From rising star and falling dew: The hour when higher aims have birth, And passion's wildest tides are still, — When angel pinions fan the earth, And men may feel them if they will. An hiuuble boatman viewed the scene In silence from his crew apart, As, slowly through the twilight sheen. His rude craft sought the Southern mart ; And o'er him swayed a form of light, Unseen, but felt in soul and mind ; As lightning glimmers through the night. Vivid and clear, yet imdefined. 6G The Boatman's Dream A black man hummed a careless air, And toiled to swell a white man's gains, And little dreamed the boatman there Would yet redeem his race from chains. With folded arm and pensive eye The boatman gazed upon the stream; And, lo! the spell of prophecy Stole on his senses like a dream. And, like the sound of far-off floods. When ocean choirs majestic roll Their wild psalms through the mellowing woods, A low voice murmured to his soul. And sweeter than the hymns of birds Which thrill the springtime of the year, That low voice, melting into words. Thus sank upon his dreaming ear: "O'er highlands green and billows blue I bear the banner of the Free, I am the Genius of the True, The glorious Maid of Liberty; I led the Pilgrim to the rock, I tuned the soul of William Tell ; I live in every battle shock That rings the key to Slavery's knell. "God gave a New World to thy sires. When despots trampled on the Old; And I in Truth's eternal fires Baptized a nation for my fold : I took it from the lion's grasp. And fondly nursed its wondrous charms: I held it with a mother's clasp, And guided it through war's alarms. 67 The Boatman's Dream "And I have loved it since the time Of Lexington and Jlunkcr Hill; I've warned it of the Old World's crime, I pray that God may shield it still ; But God is just, and time is sure, And vengeance will arise at last, To crush the crime it cannot cure, In sword and fire and cannons' l^last. "What though the palm tree smite the pine, And Saxon's first recoil with pain? The Serpent of the South will twine Around the Eagle's nest in vain. It's folds shall know the squadrons' tread. The burning town, the combats' glare, While Mercy bows her golden head, And shuts her blue eyes in despair. "Go forth, sad man of thought and care. Of weary nights and anxious morns ; 'Tis thine to toil, and wait and wear, 'Mid sneers and taunts, the crown of thorns. But those who curse thee most shall bow And jjless thy work in brighter hours ; The crown shall l)lossom on thy brow. And all its thorns be changed to flowers. "Thy people do not know thee ; yet, In yon black night that looms afar, When all thy earthly hopes have set, Thy name will be their morning star : And by its light a race of slaves Will march as did the slaves of yore, Unfettered through the Red Sea waves. Triumphant to the Promised Shore." 68 The Boatman's Dream The full moon climbed the skies of June To hang her shield on lake and stream ; The river played a pleasant tune, And woke the boatman from his dream. And when the Junes of many years Had bloomed and ripened in the land, A nation placed, mid hopes and fears, Its sceptre in the boatman's hand. With life unsullied from his youth He meekly took the ruler's rod ; And, wielding it in love and truth, He lived, "the noblest work of God." He knew no fierce, unbalanced zeal, That spurns all human differings. Nor craven fear which shuns the steel That craves the way to better things. And in the night of blood and grief. When horror rested on the Ark, His was the calm, undimmed belief That felt God's presence in the dark. Full well he knew each wandering star That once had decked the azure dome, Would tremble through the clouds of war. And like a Prodigal come home. He perished ere the angel Peace Had rolled war's curtain from the sky; But he shall live when wrong shall cease, — The great and good can never die ; For, though his heart lies cold and still, We feel its beatings warm and grand, And still his spirit pulses thrill Through all the councils of the land. 69 The Boatman^ s Dream The flag of strife at length is furled, Rebellion drops the gory knife, The spring of peace glides up the world, Its buds are bursting into life; Beneath the death-clouds, low and dun, The serpent shrinks in black despair, We lift our eyes to freedom's sun. And see the eagles hovering there. Oh, for the hosts that sleep to-day, Lulled by the sound of southern waves : The sun that lit them in the fray Now warms the flowers upon their graves, Sweet flowers that speak like words of love Between the forms of friends and foe : Perchance their spirits meet above, Who crossed their battle blades below. 'Twas not in vain the deluge came, And systems crunfl)led in the gloom ; And not in vain have sword and flame Robbed home and heart of life and bloom: The mourner's cross, the martyr's blood, Shall crown the world with holier rights ; And Slavery's storm and Slavery's flood Leave Freedom's ark on loftier heights. 70 THE OLD MOUNTAIN TREE Oh 1 the home wc loved by the bounding deep, Where the hihs in glory stood, And the moss-grown graves, where onv fathers sleep, 'Neath the boughs of the waving wood; We remember yet, with a fond regret For the rock and the llowery lea, Where we once used to play through the long, long day. In the shade of the Old Mountain Tree. We are pilgrims now, in stranger lands. And the joys of youth are passed ; Kind friends are gone, but the old tree stands Unharmed by the warring blast : The lark may sing in the clouds of spring. And the swan on the silver sea. But we long for the shade where the wild bird made Her nest in the Old Mountain Tree. The time went by like a tale that's told, In a land of song and mirth, And many a form in the churchyard cold Finds rest from the cares of earth ; And many a day shall wander away O'er the waves of the western sea. And the heart will pine and vainly pray For a grave by the Old Mountain Tree. 71 THE EXILE'S RETURN My mountain home, my own green hills, I see your long-lost glories rise, I hear the birds and gushing rills That roam beneath your clear blue skies; Ah ! here I dwelt in early years, When hopes were high and Rearts were true. Ere love's bright dream was dimmed with tears, And life had lost its rainbow hue. My mountain home, sweet home of yore, I left your paths in life's fair May, And as I view their scenes once more I wipe the starting tear away : They greet me not, the young, the old. The early loved of boyhood's bloom. For years have rolled and hearts grown cold, And friends are sleeping in the tomb. I see my home on yonder hill, — The woods are waving o'er it still, While far below the torrent shines Like silver through the tow'ring pines. 72 JOYS OF MY CHILDHOOD Joys of my childhood, Vanished forever, Days oft remembered which never return. Flowers in the wildwood Path by the river. Long will their memory linger and burn. Dear was the home of my father and mother. There have I played with my sister and brother, There have I roamed by the side of another, Happy and pure in my life's merry morn. Friends of my childhood. Tender and loving, Scattered like leaves o'er the desolate plain, Dreams of my childhood. Where are ye roving, Never to gladden my pathway of pain? Morning that burns on the brow of the billow, Driving the mist from the mariner's pillow, Waking the lark from her nest 'neath the willow, Brings not the light of my lost youth again. 73 OHl TAKE ME FROM THE FESTAL THRONG Oh ! take me from the festal throng, Where loving hearts grow false and cold, And let me hear one burning song That thrilled my soul in days of old. I may not feel that kindling flame, The trembling hope, the inward glow. For dreams of beauty, love, and fame. Are faded lights of long ago. There's not a tone in Nature's voice. There's not a ray by noon or night. But lights the shrine of buried joys. Or tells a tale of lost delight, — The morning sun, the moon's pale beam. The stars that shine with fainter glow, And bird and breeze, and lake and stream. Bring back the forms of long ago. Then take me from the festal throng. Where loving hearts grow false and cold, And let me hear one burning song That thrilled my soul in days of old. I cannot trace those winding ways Where life's young flowers no longer grow. But, oh ! I feel beneath thy gaze The morning light of long ago. 74 MOONLIGHT AND STARLIGHT Far over ocean, o'er moorland and lea, Moonlight and starlight are beaming: Wake from thy slumber, and wander with me Down where the roses are dreaming. Come to the hills, Sing with the rills. Roam where the river is shining ; Oh, may our hopes, like the stars o'er the sea, Live when our day is declining. Moonlight and starlight, silently beaming. Gilding the mountain, silv'ring the wave, Moonlight and starlight, tenderly streaming Over the beautiful, over the brave. Daylight has flown to the caves of the deep. Mars o'er the mountain is burning; Rise ere the song-birds awake from their sleep, Come ere the dawn is returning; Sing me the lays Breathing of days Radiant with memories olden. Sweet as the flowers where the night shadows weep, Pure as the moonbeams golden. Moonlight and starlight, etc. 75 OREANNA The moon is on the sea, Oreanna, I'm dreaming still of thee, Oreanna; The stars are in the skies, But I'm thinking of the eyes That were more than all the stars of heaven to me. Shall I meet thee, Oreanna, When life's evening shadows meet eternal day? Wilt thou know me, Oreanna, In that morning light that never turns to gray? Oreanna, Oreanna. The summer days go by, Oreanna, The winters veil the sky, Oreanna ; But winter's chilling gloom Cannot quench the light and bloom Of that climate where the lilies never die. Shall I meet thee, Oreanna, When life's weary winter melts in endless May? Wilt thou love me, Oreanna, In that glowing spring that never dies away? Oreanna, Oreanna. 76 WE CANNOT GIVE THEE UP Return, dear one, return to-night, And cheer our lonely fold, Bring back those hours of glad delight More dear than fame or gold. Chorus. We cannot, cannot give thee up, We will not let thee go To drown thy soul, and drain the cup Of ruin, shame, and woe. Nay, by those bright departed days That gild our home no more, That shine through memory's tender haze From memory's golden shore. We cannot, etc. By Him who prayed and died for man, On Calvary's storied height, Who took the hand of Magdalen And led her to the light, We cannot, etc. The days seem dark when thou art gone. The nights are filled with tears ; Return, dear one, and bring the dawn Of happier, nobler years. We cannot, etc. 77 THE CAPTIVE I AM dreaming of my home, Of the valley where the torrent dashes by, Where the eagle and tlie wild deer love to roam, And the mountains hang their shadows in the sky. I am grieving for the maid Who will linger for her warrior in vain, She will listen for my signal in the shade, And the footsteps that will never come again. I am bleeding far away From the glories of my native mountain sky, And I'm longing in my bondage for the day When the foe shall lead their captive forth to die. In my slumber I am free. And. in dreams, again T grasp the bended bow; But I waken in my solitude to see The vision melt in fetters and in woe. 78 SONG OF THE INDIAN MOTHER Gently dream, my darling child, Sleeping in the lonely wild ; Would thy dreams might never know Clouds that darken mine with woe ; Oh ! to smile as thou art smiling, All my hopeless hours beguiling With the hope that thou mightst see Blessings that are hid from me. Chorus. Lullaby, my gentle boy. Sleeping in the wilderness, Dreaming in thy childish joy Of a mother's fond caress, — Lullaby, lullaby. Sleep, while gleams the council fire, Kindled by th y hunted sire : Guarded by thy God above. Sleep and dream of peace and love : Dream not of the band that perished From the sacred soil they cherished, Nor the ruthless race that roams O'er our ancient shrines and homes. Sleep, while autumn glories fly, 'Neath the melancholy sky. From the trees before the storm. Chased by winter's tyrant form : Oh ! 'tis thus our Avarriors, wasted. From their altars torn and blasted, Followed by the storm of death. Fly before Oppression's breath. 79 Song of the Indian Mother Sleep, while iii^lU hides home ;iiul grave, Rest, while iiiouni the sulFriiij; brave, Mouniing- as thou, too, wilt nioiini, Throuj^h the ftilnre, wild and worn; Ih'uised in heart, in spirit shaken, .Seom-ged by man, by ( lod foisaken, Wandi'rinj;' on in war and strift-, Liviii}^ si ill, yi'l enrsinj; life. <'ould thy lendei- faney feel All thai m.inhood will revi-al, ('(Mildst Ihoti dream thy breast w<)nl(| share Ml the ills thy fathers hear, 'Ihon wonldst wi'ep as 1 am vvec-])in^, 'Tearful walehes wildlv keepni.q, liy the silver-beamin'; li<;ht (^f the long" and lonelv ni,t;ht. «0 MOONLIGHT HOURS VVii1':n m()()iili};lil Ixmrs in Id'auly bciuii Along' tlic iiiidiiiglit shore, 1 wander by tlic waves and dream Of liours tlial shine no more; And then the tide ol by-gone years Ketnrns o'er hfe's blue sea, Till frcjm the rolling mist appears Each scene 1 loved with thcc. I he moonlight horns may wane and fade iM'oni yonder ihanging sky. The light of yonlli may Inrn to shade, An(l friendship's (ai)er die, — r.ut let the skies bi- dark or bright That bend o'ei- lifi's blue sea. My heart will view ihrongh day and nighl l^acli scene I loved with thee. When mooiiliglil lioins their beams nnite Along the nmrnnn'ing main, 1 dream beneath their melting light Of hearts that meet again : The world may smile, and glory fling Its glance o'er scenes to be, Tint still my heart will Inrn ,-md cling To all I loved with lliee. 81 HARRY O'LANE The sunlight was streaming through woodbine and willow, The clover was blooming on meadow and plain, And a bark lloated off like a bird o'er the billow. The morning I parted from Harry O'Lane, — Dear Harry O'Lane, lost Harry O'Lane. The heavens grew dark, and I heard the wild warning That tells of a storm coming down on the main. And I knew in my heart that the last golden morning Had dawned on the world for my Harry O'Lane, — Dear Harry O'Lane, lost Harry O'Lane. The wing of the blast o'er the ocean came sweeping, I knelt to the God of the sailor in vain, And I dream of a form on the red coral sleeping, Where foundered the bark of my Harry O'Lane, — Dear Harry O'Lane, lost Harry O'Lane. The morning winds play through the bright golden willows, I hear the glad music of waters again, But never shall morning, nor breezes, nor billows. Bring back the glad voice of my TLirry O'Lane, — Dear LTarry O'Lane, lost Harry O'Lane. 82 'TIS SWEET TO BE REMEMBERED Oii I 'tis sweet to be remembered In the merry days of youth, While the world seems full of brightness, And the soul retains its truth ; When our hopes are like the morning beams That Hash along the sea. And every dream we know of life Is one of purity; 'Tis sweet to be remembered As the spring remembers earth, Spreading roses in our pathway, Filling all our hearts with mirth. Oh ! 'tis sweet to be remembered In the summer-time of life. Ere we reach the burning summit With our weight of woe and strife ; To look backward through tlie shadows Where our journey first begun, And the golden flowers of memory Turn their faces to the sun ; *Tis sweet to be remembered, As the breeze remembers day, Floating upward from the valley, O'er the pilgrim's weary way. Oh ! 'tis sweet to be remembered When our life has lost its bloom, And every morning sun we meet May leave us at the tomb ; When our youth is half forgotten, And we gaze with yearnings fond From a world where all is dying To a deathless world beyond; 'Tis sweet to be remembered. As the stars remember night. Shining downward through the darkness. With a pure and holv light. 83 MEET ME BY THE RUNNING BROOK Meet iiic by the running- brook, Where the drooping willows grow; Meet nie in the shady nook, Where the silver waters flow. Friends we loved are broken-hearted, Smiles have llown and tears have started Since the time when last we parted, In the days of U)ng- ago. Meet me when the starlight i)lays O'er the wavelets bright and low ; Tell me of our youthful days, Ere the heart knew pain or woe. Joy will come to charm and leave us. Lingering ho])c will still deceive us; Life had nothing dark to grieve us, In the days of long ago. 84 LET US LOVE WHILE WE MAY Let us love while we may, for the storms will arise As we sail (j'er the blue waves of rime, And the hopes of to-day may he hid from our eyes liy the noon-elouds that darken our prime. We may lo(jk for the lost hills of morning, and grieve, But the soft hush of twilight will eomc, And our souls on the rose-tinted billows of eve J''loat calmly away to tlieir home. Let us love while we live, and (Uir meni'ry will rise Like a halo of light from the grave, As the day from the deep lends a glow to the eyes That are guarding the gloom of the wave. 'Jliere's a life in the soul that is better by far Than the glitter of glory and gold, — It may fade in the noon, but will shine like a star When the i)roud world is darksome and cold. MARION MOORE GoNic ail thou, IMarioii, Marion Moore, — Gone like llic bird in the uiiUinni thai singelli, Gone like tlie flower by the wayside thai springeth, Gone like I he leaf of the ivy (hat clinj^elh l\i)Uii(l till' lone roek on a storm Ix-aleii slK)rc. J)ear wert llK)n, Marion, Marit)n Moore, -- Dear as the tide in niy broken heart throbbing; Dear as the soul o'er ihy memory sobbing. Sorrow my life of its roses is robbing, Wasting is ail the glad beauty of yore. I will ri-mi-mbiT thc-e, Marion Moore, — 1 shall remend)er, alas, to regril thee; I will regret when all others forget thee; Dei'p in my breast will the hoin* that I niel Ihee Linger and burn till life's fever is o'er. Gone art thou, Marion, Marion Moore, — Gone like the breeze o'er tlu- billow that blowelh. Gone as the rill, to the oeean that lloweth, Gone as the day from the gray moiml;nn goeth, Markness behind |1uh\ bnl <;lorv before. I'eace lo lliei', Marion, Marion Moore, — l\'aee whiih (he (|ueens of the earth eannot borrow, lV\'iee ffoiii a kingdom thai i-rowned thee with sor- row : Oh ! to be lia]>i>v with thee on (he morrow, Who woidd not llv fiom this desolale shore? 86 BEAUTIFUL ANNIU IJiiAUJ iMji, yXniiic, silver-voiced Annie, Gone ere tliy liglit. liearl knew s(jrrov/ and woe; Beautiful Annie, silver-voiced Annie, (;li, liow we miss thee no mortal may know! Sweet is tliy song, tiiougii the worid may not hear it; i'.right is thy h(jme, with the angels to cheer it; (Jh, for one view of thy glorified spirit, l^'ree from the fetters that hind us below! lieautiful Annie, silver-voiced Annie, (jone ere thy young life a shadow might feel ; JJeautiful Annie, silver-voiced Annie, Green is thy memory in sorrow and weal : Thine is the splendor (jf joy unfl(;ceiving, CJurs be the love to thy memory cleaving, rjurs b(; the faith which is blest in believing All the fond visions the angels rf:veal, lieautiful Annie, silver-voiced Annie, Gone from our jKithway in life's early iVIay; T'erintifiil Annie, silver-voiced Annie, Smile on our home Worn thy fdory-lil way. Glide round the hearts ihaf so oft vv^cre thy pillow, Sing in our gloftm like the bird in ihc willow. Come to our night like the star to the billow. Gilding the wave with a f)romise of a day. 87 THE DAWN OF REDEMPTION See them go forth Hkc the floods of the ocean, Gathering niighl from eacli mountain and glen; Wider and deeper the tide of devotion KoUs up to God from the bosoms of men ; Hear the great nuihitude singing in chorus, Groan as they gaze from their crimes to tlie sky, "Father, the midnight of death gathers o'er us, When win tlie dawn of redemption draw nigh?" "Look on us wanderers, sinful and lowly. Struggling with grief and temptation below; Thine is the goodness o'er every thing h(jly. Thine is the mercy to pity our woe ; Thine is the power to cleanse and restore us Spotless and ])ure as the angels on high, — Father, the midnight of death gathers o'er us, When will the dawn of redemption draw nigh?" Gray hair and golden youth, matron and maiden, ]^ovcrs of mannnon and followers of fame, All with the same soltimn burden are laden. Lifting their souls to that one mighty name, — "Wild is the pathway that surges before us, On the broad waters the black shadows lie ; Father, the midnight of death gathers o'er us. When will the dawn of redemption draw nigh?" Lo! the vast depths of futurity's ocean Heave with the ])ulse of the Infinite breath. Why should we shrink from the billows' commotion? Angels are walking the waters of death ; Angels are blending their notes in the chorus. Rising like incense from earth to the sky, — "Father, the billows grow lighter before us, Heaven with its mansions etcrn:il draws nigh." 88 THE BEAUTIFUL HILLS i)\\ ! lliL- Jjcauliful Hills where the blest have Irod Since the years when the earth was new: Where our fathers gaze from the fields of God On the vale we are journeying thrfuigh : We have seen those hills in their iirightness rise When the world was black bchjw, And we felt the thrill (jf immortal eyes In the night of our darkest woe. Ihen sing of the lieautiful Hills, That rise from the evergreen shore; Oh ! sing of the Beautiful 1 1 ills, Where the weary shall loll no more. The cities oi yore llial were reared in crime, And renowned by the ])raise of seers, Went down in the tramp of old King Time, To sleep with his gray-haired years; But the Beautiful Hills rise bright and strong Through the smoke of old Time's red wars, As on that day when the fust deep song Rolled up from the morning stars. Then sing of the Beautiful Hills, etc. We dream of rest on the T>eautiful Hills, Where the traveler shall tljirst no more; And we hear the hum of a tlujusand rills That wanfler the green glens o'er. We can feel the souls of the martyred nK.m Who have braved a cohl world's frown; We can bear the burdens which they did then, Nor shrink from their thorny crown. Then sing of the Beautiful Hills, etc. 89 The Beautiful Hitls Our arms arc weak, yet wo would not (ling To our feci this load of oiu's. The winds of sprini;- to tlio valKvs siuj;-, And the lurf replies with llowers ; And thus we learn on our wintry way Mow a mightier arm eoutrols, That the hreath of (lod on our lives will play Till our hodics bloom to souls. Then sinj;- of the Beautiful TTills. etc. 90 PROPHET OF NAZARETH Svvi'.i'ir rroplii'l of Na/aiH'lli, loiistaiil and Under, Wliosc liulli like a laiiilxjw i-iiciiiUs llii' world; The lime is ai)|)roatliiii}4 wlieii vvroiij^ shall siiirendcr, And war's crimson hanners forever he fiiiKd; Wiien the throat <;f the lion no longer shall utter Jts roar of deliancc in tlesi 1 1 and idcn, Wlu'ii (he lands will join hands, and the Marls eannoii nnitter I lu'ir (liseords no more to (he ( hildren ol men. As hreaks the f^old snnlijj^ht, when heroes and sap^es Were risinjjf and falling;' like meteors in s])ace, A new j;iory hroke on the j^loom of (he aji^es, And love warmed (o life in (he j^lovv of iliy face; The wars of the ( )l(l Tinu- art; waning' and failinpf, 'i"he peace of (he New Time o'erarches om- (ears, The orhs of the ( )Id Time are fadinj.- and palinj^', The Sim of (In- New Time is }.;ildin;; the years. The mist of (he ocean, (he spray of (he foiiidain, Till- vine on the hillside, (he moss on the shrine. The rose in (he valley, (he pine on the nioimtain. All (urn (o a j^lory (hat symhohth Thine; So T yearn for Thy love as (he pm"es( and dearest That ever nplifted a spirit from woe, And I (urn to Thy lif<' as (he (rnest and nearest 'i\) liitmilt' ( ioodncss (hat mortals mav know. O Soul of the Orient, peerless and holy, I'Jithroned in a splendor all angels ahove, r would join widi (he singers (hat raise np the lowly, And pr.'u'se Thee in de("ds that are Christlikc in love. Let my words he as showers (lia( fall on (he hij^dilands, I')ejj;'o((en in shadows, expirinp^ in lijdit, While Thijie are (he hillows that sini; to life's islands Tn nnmbcrs nnhroken, by noonday and nif^i^ht. THE GUARDIAN ANGEL I COME not from the weeping willow-tree : I sing of climes where pleasures ever thrill, I bear a message of a life to be, When spheres dissolve, and warring waves are still ; I guard thee in the early morning light, The noonday glare, the glow that paints the west ; I gaze upon thee in the lonely night, And mark each sigh that stirs thy sleeping breast, 'Tis mine to hover near thee every hour ; To note the cares that shade thy troubled face. Till life anew shall lift the fallen flower. And crown with deathless bloom each fading grace. Though life seems dark, and hope shines dim and far. Faint not ; I never leave thee long alone : — The golden light that speaks from star to star, Is far less fleet than love that claims its own. 1)3 LOOK UP Look up, look up, desponding soul. The clouds are only seeming. The light behind the dark'ning scroll Eternally is beaming. Wait on, hope on, Work with heart and hand ; Make room in your life for the angel throng From the beautiful morning land. The warmth and glow of deathless youth Shall crown the true endeavor ; The tide of God's immortal truth Climbs up and on forever. There is no death, there is no night, Nor life nor day declining ; Beyond the day's departing light The sun is always shining. Could we but pierce the rolling storms That veil the pathway sunward. We'd see a host of shining forms Forever beckonine onward. 93 WHERE THE ROSES NEVER WITHER WiiEKi': the roses ne'er sliall wither, Nor the clouds of sorrow gather, We sliall meet, we shall meet: Where no wintry storm can roll, Driving' summer from the soul; Where all hearts are tuned to love. On that happy shore above. Chorus. Where the roses ne'er shall wither, Nor the storms of sorrow gather. Angel banils will guide us thither. Where the roses ne'er shall wither. Where the hills are ever vernal, And the springs of youth eternal, We shall meet, we shall meet : Where life's morning dream returns. And the noonday never burns ; Where the dew of life is love. On (hat happy shore above. Where no cruel word is spoken. Where no faithful heart is broken, We shall meet, we shall meet : Hand in hand and heart to heart. Friend with friend, no more to part. Ne'er to grieve Un tliose we love, On that happy shore above. 94 THE ISLES OF THE BY AND BY We shall meet again in the i^y and By, Where the mountains gleam in the morning sky, We shall meet again in the land of Love, Our Father's home above. Chorus. We shall meet again, we shall nuMtt again, In the beautiful Isles of the By and By, We shall meet again, we shall meet again, In the Isles of the r>y and By. In the balmy Isles where the angels roam By the erystal seas of our Father's Home, There are forms of grace and •>! beauty rare, And the ones wc have lost arc there. We must part in tears when the twibght dies On the far-off hills of our evening skies ; We shall meet in joy where our dear ones stand In the gates of the Morning Land. Wc shall fall asleep where the auttunn grieves O'er the fading flowers and the falling leaves; We shall wake again where the angels sing In the bloom of eternal spring. 95 ^ftcr His Fiftieth Birthday LORD, KEEP MY MEMORY GREEN My feet approach life's western slope: Above me bend the noonday skies, Jjeycjnd ine spreads the realm of hope, iieliind the land of memory lies; I know not what the years may bring Of dangers wild, or joys serene ; But turning to the east, I sing, "Lord, keep my memory green," land of winter and ol bloom, Of singing bird and moaning pine, Thy golden liglit, thy tender gloom, Ihy vales and mountains, all are mine! The holy loves of other years. With beck'ning hanrls toward me lean, And whisper, through their falling tears, "Lord, keep my memory green." Dear Memory! whose unchjuded gaze Can pierce the darkest wilds nld stain it with crime. The ocean was vantinished. the lu-w woiid was lu)rn. Its headlands linns;' back the bi^lil ehalleuj^e o\ morn ; The sun from the tremblitn; sea marslialled the mist Till the hills by the soul of the iH'ean were kissetl ; And the Winter kins; iwiclu'd from his rloml-eastled hei.qht 1\> hani; on each bnnv the tirst «;arland of white; For iho crxstals came forth at the tiMich of his wanil. And tlie sonl o{ the siM ruled a_i;ain on (lu- lat\vl. Then ari\>^i- the loud moan o\ the ilesolate tide. As it callcil back its own from the far momUaiu side : "O soul of my soiU ! by the sun leil astray, Kelurn to the heart that whmiUI hold thee alway ; The stni ami the silver moon woc^ me in vain. V>y day and by nij^ht 1 .'.m sobbiui; with pain; Oh. U^ved of my boso \i ! ( ih. ehild of the l'>ee, Come back to the lips that arc waitim; for thee!" But n sotuul. like all melodies mingled in one, Came down through the sp.ices that cradled the stm. Like nuisic from far-distant planets it fell. Till earth, ;nr, and ocean were hushed in the spell : 106 The Moan/ of tlw Holy Cross "Wc sik'iil, yi' w.'ilc'is, aiul ccisc yoiii ;il.iiiii, All luolioii is only llic pulse of my .inii ; III my hrciilli llu- v;isl systems muMiiii^ly svviii};. And mine is llir rlioiiis the iiiniiiiiii; sl.iis siiif^. " 'Twas mine to crc.'itc llicm, 'lis mine In i(iiiiiii.iiiii;ii that shall he A type of the union of laud and sea, An eiuMem of aujMiish that comes beloic hliss, [''or they who would ((»U(pier uuisl conipier hy this." riu' roar of llu- eaitlupiake in answer was heard, The land fiom its solid foimdalion was sliri(-<|, The hreasi of llie nuxnitain was rent hy (he shock, And a eross was reveale«| on the heart of the rock; ( )ne hand pointinj.;' south, where the Iropie jjales blow, And one to the kingdom of winter anY the borders of the sea, On his couch the Ruler lay, With death's twilight slowly creeping Through the noontide of his day ; And the waves complaining moan And tlie breathing of the spray. Drifted upward from the bosom Of the bay. From that window looking out O'er the ocean's ebb and flow. How his weary lieart goes backward To the land of long ago. Where a little cabin stands, While the trees wave to and fro, And his mother's voice is singing Sweet and low. And that mother prays alone When the toil of day is done, That the struggling boy may conquer In life's battle just begun: But she dreams not of a time When, with shouts of victory won. All the nation shall be turning To her son. From that quiet cabin home To the marble halls of state Is a life-track winding upward, 'Neath the golden star of fate ; At the end a sorrowing race With bowed hearts in silence wait. While immortal hands swing open Glory's gate. 117 OUR DREAM BY THE RIVER 'TwAS here that we wandered wlien winter was over, And saw the white apple-blooms falling like snow, The birds in the trees and the bees in the clover Were tuning their notes to the water's soft flow ; The earth was awaiting the birth of her roses. When all her sweet voices in harmony sing. I shall never forget, till the day of life closes, Our dream by the river that morning in spring. The soul of that morning still lingers in splendor. The song of the water still rings in my ears. That look in your eyes, half reproachful yet tender. Has haunted my life through a long night of years; On the vast rolling ]:)lains where the rivers pressed onward For freedom and rest in tlie fetterless blue, On the wonderful heights where the mountains swept sunward I've paused to remember that morning and you. 118 CHILDREN'S DAY The wintry winds have flown away To colder lands than ours, And summer brings this joyous day With all its wealth of flowers ; We come in many a happy throng, We meet in every clime. To crown with love and cheerful song The dearest name of T;hju. Refrain, We come, we come, Amid the bloom of June; Our hearts are light. Our faces bright. Our voices all in tune ; We come, we come, Our love for Him to prove Who took the children in His arms, And blest them with His love. Let lilies breathe and roses fling Their fragrance on the air, And all the birds of summer sing In one melodious prayer ; Let mountain, river, rill, and lake Give praises to His name. And every voice of Nature wake Our hearts to holy flame. 119 THE CAPTAIN'S SIGNAL I AM safe in port, but 1 watch aiul wait For another boat to bring my Mate, — The faithful Mate, who, in cahn antl strife, Had cruised with me o'er the seas of Hfe. I left our crew at the close of day, — It is hardly a cable's length away, — And stepped ashore in a (juiet bay ; A silver cloud on the lowlands lay, And through the mist, by a radiant band, I was borne across o'er the border land. And my Mate sits gazing out through tears, For her heart goes back to our youthful years, When all the storms of the ocean wide Might beat and break o'er the good ship's side, And never a sturdy spar or mast Would yield at the rage of tide or blast, And never n sail at the storm-king's frown, Like a frightened bird would flutter down, And never a spar nor a timber start From her maintop high to her oaken heart. Mate of my life ! though hid from view By the silver mist, T am guarding you. And will linger near till the day is done, And the white sail furled in the western sun ; When the boat-keel grates on tlie golden strand, Ere the hulk sinks down in the shifting sand, 1 will welcome you to the bright green land, — ' You shall see my face, you will grasp my hand. And wander with me the New Realm o'er, Where the dreams of youth can be lost no more. 120 THE GOLDEN DREAM The golden dream of ull my life Is framed in soft September's ray, And rises o'er long leagues of strife Like some blest island far away : Its memory lias haunted me, When Icjve seemed like a leafless tree, And charmed away my ])ain, love, And sung within my brain, love. Like music from a moonlit sea. O queen of all my royal hours, Before your glance all sorrow flies, Your face looks (jUt from stars anon thy breast As henrls my noon-ray to the west, And calmly, in my open boat, 1 floating sinj^- and singinj^ float. I wait no more by wayside lakes. To dally with the reeds anrl brakes; Tiehind me fade the mountain snf;ws. And in my face the June wind blows, While strong and wide the currents sweep Toward the ever-calling deep. If JVC that rocks me in its arms. And makes me brave amidst alarms! 1 know not where fhy stream may lead, Through rocky pass or flowery mead, I only feel ihat I am blest; I only know f am at rest. 123 LOVE'S MORNING CALL Come over the valley, my darling, my own, The flowers are waking in gladness and dew, The spirit of night has deserted its throne, There's a blush of delight on the mountain's dark blue; The arrows of morning are winging their way From a quiver of gold on the billow's broad breast, The isles of the ocean are purpling with day, The moon lies asleep at the gates of the west, I've seen the wild waters encompass your form As you reached in the darkness for comfort and light, I've heard your low call in the din of the storm, And felt your soft touch in the stillness of night ; Your life shall forget all the anguish it bore When adrift and alone on a desolate deep ; The phantom of sorrow shall haunt you no more 'Mid the cares of the day nor in visions of sleep. Oh ! love is of being the glory and grace, The power, the impulse, the voice, and the breath ! It can rest in the light of a dearly loved face, Yet is stronger than edict and ruler o'er death ; If planets and systems between us should roll, And our paths by the spaces be sundered apart, I should know when a shadow swept over your soul, And be swayed by the innermost pulse of your heart. Come out from the lowlands, my beautiful one, I've crossed the dark mountains that hid you from me; The young morning's laugh ripples up from the sun. And dimples with smiles the sad face of the sea ; 124 Lovers Morning Call From the highlands of gold to the valleys of green The voices of summer are singing in tune. And roses are waiting to welcome the queen With their red lips upturned for the kisses of June. 125 JUNE DAYS The Queen of all the year Once more walks land and sea ; Her days of bloom are here, To tell my soul of thee : The dearest days of all I know In summer shade or shine, For in their soft light long ago A soul was born for mine. O royal June ! Sweet flowering June ! Her song is in the rill That to the valley flows, Her tender eyes Light earth and skies. Her cheek with beauty glows, Her breath perfumes the hill, Her lips are in the rose. And though we walked apart Till life's brief May was o'er, The summer of the heart Is ours forever more. And so the Junes are ever new, And filled with glad surprise, For all their bloom, their light and dew. Are blended in thine eyes. O royal June ! Sweet flowering June ! Her song is in the rill That to the valley flows, Her tender eyes Light earth and skies, Her cheek with beauty glows. Her breath perfumes the hill. Her lips are in the ro?o. 126 TO DR, JAMES C, JACKSON Grand Prophet of life, when thy sun shall go down, And clouds fade in glory that gathered in frown, And the Hves thou hast blessed with thine own life and light Shine forth like the stars in the dome of the night, Thou shalt look o'er the labor-worn track of the past, And thy spirit rejoice in its travail at last ; The crown of the victor shall rest on thy brow. And mortals behold thee as angels do now. 127 TWO CONQUERORS 'TwAS midnight on the tented plain, The din of strife had died away, And, tangled in the lion's mane, The captive Corsican eagle lay ; No more, 'mid shouts of victory won, His pinions climbed the morning light, — The splendor of his noonday sun Was quenched in swift and awful night ; They bore him in his iron cage To stern Helena's rock-walled shore. To beat the bars with baffled rage In answer to the ocean's roar. There, haunted by the orphan's shriek. The widow's curse, the mother's moan, With battered wings and muzzled beak The bird of doom was left alone; And when he died the pent-up wrath Of Nature burst in flame and flood, As if to cleanse his blackened path Whose rule was born of woe and blood : And Freedom will his name record With those who bore her name in vain, — Who raised on high the victor's sword. But forged for man a tyrant's chain. Oh, silent man, whose mighty deeds Awoke the land from dumb despair. Who rose responsive to our needs In answer to a nation's prayer, — Whose trustful manhood, warm and true, Through every act and impulse ran. Till foes whom war could not subdue Surrendered to the kindlv Man. — Oh, Master of each storied field Where mortal man wnth thee has striven, 128 Tm)o Conquerors Till death itself was forced to yield And fly before thy faith in heaven : When every battle-flag is furled, And love has wiped away our tears, When songs of peace shall thrill the world. Thy life shall tower above the years Like some calm mountain, crowned with snows Which o'er the storms of summer shine, From whose green heart a river flows. And o'er whose feet the myrtles twine ; And Freedom's hand shall write thy name Among the few bright names of Time That glow with all a conqueror's fame. Unclouded by a conqueror's crime. 129 MY PRAYER Father, bend Thine ear and hear me While 1 call to Thee in prayer, Let Thine angels linger near me In my time of grief and care, — Like the sun upon the river Let Thy love upon me shine, Till my life shall sing forever In the boundless deep of Thine. Father, when my lips are pleading For the weary march to end, Homeless, lonely, torn, and bleeding. Let me find in Thee a friend; When like leaves my hopes are falling. And despair has filled my breast. Let me hear Thy low voice calling, — "Come, and I will give you rest." Father, let Thy spirit guide me Through the darkness and the blast, Let Thine angels walk beside me, Till temptation's power be past, — Till I view the heights supernal Tow'ring o'er life's changing sea, Till I tread the vales eternal, Where the blest are led by Thee. 130 THE INFIMTE MOTHER I AM mother of Life, and companion of God, I move in each mote from the suns to the sod, I brood in aU darkness, i gleam in all light, I fathom all depth and i crown every height ; Within me the globes of the universe roll, And through me all matter takes impress and soul. Without me all forms into chaos would fall, I was under, within and around, over all, Ere the stars of the morning in harmony sung. Or the systems and suns from their grand arches swung. I loved you, O Earth, in those cycles profound, When darkness unbroken encircled you round. And the fruit of creation, the race of mankind. Was only a dream in the Infinite mind; I nursed you, O Earth, ere your oceans were born, Or your mountains rejoiced in the gladness of morn, When naked and helpless you came from the womb. Ere the seasons had decked you with verdure and bloom, And all that appeared of your form or your face Was a bare, lurid ball in the vast wilds of space. When your bosom was shaken and rent with alarms I calmed and caressed you to sleep in my arms, I sung o'er your pillow the song of the spheres Till the hum of its melody softened your fears. And the hot flames of passion burned low in your breast As you lay on my heart like a maiden at rest ; When fevered, I cooled you with mist nnd with shower, And kissed you with cloudlet and rainbow and flower 131 The Infinite Mother Till you woke in the heavens arrayed like a queen, In garments of purple, of gold and of green. From fabrics of glory my lingers had spun For the mother of nations and bride of the sun. There was love in your face, and your bosom rose lair, And the scent of your lilies made fragrant the air, And your blush in the glance of your lover was rare As you waltzed in the light of his warm yellow hair. Or lay in the haze of his tropical noons, Or slept 'neath the gaze of the passionless moons, — And 1 stretched out my arms from the awful unknown Whose channels are swept by my rivers alone, And held you secure in your young mother-days, And sung to your otYspring their lullaby lays, While races and nations came forth from your breast, Lived, struggled, and died, and returned there to rest. All creatures conceived at the Fountain of Cause Arc born of my travail, controlled by my laws ; I throb in their veins and I breathe in their breath, Combine them for effort, disperse them in death; No form is too great or minute for my care, No place so remote but my presence is there. I bend in the grasses that whisper of spring, I lean o'er the spaces to hear the stars sing, I laugh with the infant, I roar with the sea, I roll in llic thunder, T hum with the bee ; From the centre of suns to the flowers of the sod I am shuttle nnd loom in the purpose of Cod, The ladder of action all spirit nuist climb To the clear heights of T.ove from the lowlands of Time. 132 The Infinite Mother 'Tis mine to protect you, fair bride of the sun, Till the task of the bride and the bridegroom is done; Till the roses that crown you shall wither away, And the bloom on your beautiful cheek shall decay ; Till the soft golden locks of your lover turn gray And palsy shall fall on the pulses of Day ; Till you cease to give birth to the children of men. And your forms are absorbed in my currents ngain, — But your sons and daughters, unconquered by strife, Shall rise on my pinions and bathe in my life, While the fierce glowing splendors of suns cease to burn, And bright constellations to vapor return. And new ones that rise from the graves of the old. Shine, fade, and dissolve like a tale that is told. 133 LOVE'S IMMORTALITY On, the gladness and glory Of life and of time When love's dual story Is told in one rhyme ! When one face is pictured on brain and on eye, And one name is written on rainbow and sky; When the robins sing love through all seasons and changes, And waves whisper love in the arms of the night ; W^hen the years rise before us like green mountain ranges, W'hose cedars and myrtles are bathed in one light. Like the rose by the fountain That mirrors its hue, Like the rain on the moimtain That hungers for dew, So your life in the stream of my life saw its own. So your presence brought flowers where no flowers had blown. Oh, the clasp of our souls was the glory of living! We shared with each other in pleasure and pain, For the wealth of our love was the rapture of giving. And all that we gave was the sweetest of gain. Like the sun to the ocean Where two vessels glide, Keeping time to one motion Of breeze and of tide. Was the spell of our love to life's billow and air, And in sorrow and shadow we knew it was there : We knew it at midnight by stars shining o'er us, When mist hid the deep, by a voice and a breath Floating ever above and behind and before us, A presence in darkness, in trial, and death. 134 Lo've's Immortality How it sang- thr(jugli all weather In mind and in heart ! How it willed us together When sundered apart ! How the sweet star of liope cast her smile ow the strife Where the surges of fate shook the headlands of life ! The landscapes of time have their Junes and Decem- bers, And rivers of beauty between them that roll, But of all that my spirit beholds or remembers, Our love is the warmth, and the light, and the soul. It may pass like the shower That watered the earth; It may fade like the flower That springtime gave birth ; The sun may go down on its gladness and bloom. And the winter storm shroud it in drift and in gloom ; But the rain shall live on in the heart of the river. The rose tint ascend to the cloud and the sky ; And the love that is ours shall enfold us forever, When fountain, and river, and ocean are dry. 135 OUR LOVE SHALL NEVER DIE i\'o matter where my leet may stand, On silent plain or noisy strand, On sailing ship or solitl land, In lowly ways or mountains grand, My soul is close to you, love, My soul is close to you. No matter what my lips may say To turn the (piestioning world away, In moments sad, in nK)menls g'ay, In clouded night or cloudless day. My life to you is true, love. My life to you is true. The morning suns may lose their gold, The bright warm noons turn pale and \:iA( And all bright things we now behold In earth and air and wave, grow old, And fade from brain and eye, love. And fade from brain and eye. But in the gloom of deepest night A rose shall wave in beauty bright, A star shall hail the morning light, A bird shall sing across the night, "Our love shall never die, love. Our love shall never die." 136 VENUS When Venus rises from tin- deep Willi morning; k1<^^''.V in Ik^t face, And all lit r train have ^(jne to sleep iieliind tlu- paling doiiit- of space, Sweet nicMn'rics tlirouj^li my bcin}^ sweep Of one whose rare and lovinj^ j^race IHun^i^ f/er my dark and lonely way A promise of the coming day. When Venus from her tlirtjuc of hlile Stfjops down to touch the western sea, Before her train ai)p(ars in view I'Vom out the calm Innnensity, I turn to her, anrl think of you, Whose love is life and lij^ht to me, Whose touch controlled my troubled breast, And gave nic peace for wild tmrest. U7 A FRAGMENT 0\\. kools thai ricll llir soas o\ loiij; at^o! (^li. sails thai drift od in llio luoiiiiiii; lis;Iil, Till. lost hcliiiul llir lino of ici- ami snow. Thov .^learned no luoro iipiMi our loiij^iiij; siqlit I \N'liMt j^oldiMi walors now around tlioin roll, W'luM'c isles of hoanly sleep in liviuj;^ hlooin? Wliat };lorios draw tluMu lo llio r'^t(>nial role, Whose lieatllands <;linuiier thromdi llie norlli nij^lit plooin? 138 THE WOMAN IN THE MOON () moonIiImI In iiii your sl.ii I y lici(;lil Looks down oil rivet", Like .iiid sr.i, Go seek her eyis whose leiuh-r li^;hl Is more Ih.iti sl.ir .iiid sun lo me; keMecl many T'e (r;uiiple(| ;iud rohhed hv (he few. 141 The Voice of the People The soil tells the same fruitful story, The seasons their bounties display, And the flowers lift their faces in glory To catch the warm kisses of day ; While our fellows are treated as cattle That are muzzled when treading the corn, And millions sink down in Life's battle With a sigh for the day they were born. Must the Sea plead in vain that the River May return to its mother for rest. And the Earth beg the rain clouds to give her Of dews they have drawn from her breast? Lo ! the answer comes back in a mutter From domes where the quick lightnings glow, And from heights where the mad waters utter Their warning to dwellers below. And woe to the robbers who gather In fields where they never have sown, Who have stolen the jewels from labor And builded to Mammon a throne ; For the snow-king, asleep by the fountains, Shall wake in the summer's hot breath, And descend in his rage from the mountains, Bearing terror, destruction, and death. And the throne of their god shall be crumbled, And the sceptre be swept from his hand, And the heart of the haughty be humbled, And a servant be chief in the land, — And the Truth and the Power united Shall rise from the graves of the True, And the wrongs of the Old Time be righted In the might and the light of the New. 142 The Voice of the People For the Lord of the harvest hath said it, Whose Hps never uttered a lie, And His prophets and poets have read it In symbols of earth and of sky : That to him who has revelled in plunder Till the angel of conscience is dumb, The shock of the earthquake and thunder And tempest and torrent shall come. Swing inward, O gates of the future ! Swing outward, ye doors of the past, A giant is waking from slumber And rending his fetters at last ; From the dust where his proud tyrants found him, Unhonored and scorned and betrayed. He shall rise with the sunlight around him. And rule in the realm he has made. 14J THE MARTYR OF TRUTH Tie my wrists with hempen strands While brazen force around me stands ! — You cannot with your fetters bind The daring impulse of the mind, Nor quench the lightning sparks of thought That upward from the scaff(jld leap, To live and wait through slavery's years 'Till ] Jestiny's firm web is wrought — To bide their time while tyrants sleep, And prisoners pace their cells and weep — Then burst with power, in bolt and flash, And roaring flood and thunder crash In answer to the exile's tears ! — To work their will, above control Of human customs, courts and laws; So leaped the fires of Emmet's soul. To burn anew in Freedom's cause Wherever blades for I'^eedom rise. Wherever Freedom's banners stream. Wherever Freedom's thunders roll, Wherever Freedom's lightnings gleam, And man for Freedom strikes and dies! Still my pulse and stop my breath! — Who works with Truth may play with Death, Hang me quick and hang me high ! — So hung the form of old John Brown ; And though they cut the body down, The shadow broader, higher grew; It met the seas, it reached the sky, And darkened mountain, lake and town! — Wherever Freedom's eagle flew. Wherever Freedom's breezes blew — From frigid North to fervid South, From Maine to broad Columbia's mouth — 144 The Martyr of Truth The shadow towered above the world Where freedom's stars in shame were furled; It turned the stars and sun to blood, And poured on earth a crimson flood ! — The Nation quaffed the bloody rain, And all her first-born sons were slain. Let me die ! My work is done ! The dying stars proclaim the sun That weaker eyes could not behold. And lower lights had not foretold ; Then die upon a bed of gold, Because the grander light is born! The highland rills that seaward glide, May vanish in the mountain side. And, sinking through the voiceless earth. Within the cold, dark caves abide; But naught can stay their "second birth," Or dim their resurrection morn ; Sometime, somewhere, in stronger tide, And warmer light and broader sweep, They rush to swell the distant deep. That turns its awful palms to Heaven That girdles with its mighty bands All kingdoms, empires, realms, and lands, - Within whose all-embracing rim The fleets of Nations sink or swim Like fire-flies in the mist of even, And on whose all-receiving breast The Ages lay their dead to rest. Lead me forth! I'm ready now! Pull the black cap o'er my brow ! — You cannot blind my inner sight: I see the dawn behind the night, Beyond the dawn I sec the day ; 145 The Martyr of Truth And through the day 1 see the Truth Arising in inunortal youth ! The sunbeams on her forehead play, The hhes in her tresses twine, The Peace of God dwells in her face And rolls the clouds of war away ; Around her feet the roses grow. Her tender bosoms swell and flow With healing for the stricken race, And in her eyes seraphic shine Faith, ITope and Love and every grace! — The Old recedes, the New descends! Earth clasps the hand that Heaven extends The Lion and the Lamb are friends ! 146 A SONG FOR THE PERIOD "O ! WEAVE US a bright and cheerful rhyme Of our land vvliere the lig tree grows, And llic air is sweet in the New Year time Willi the breath of the new-born rose." This message rang while the engine roared By the wharf at the city's feet, Where the white-winged birds of trade lay moored In a vast, unnumbered fleet. It filled my ears as we moved away, And the iron wheels rolled on, From the noisy town and the sobbing bay. For the wilds of Oregon, Where the mountain cloud and the mossy sod Are kissed by the self-same rills, And the torrents beat like the pulse of God In the hearts of the ancient hills. And I sung of the broad and generous fields That were fresh with a promise rare, — Of the mother-breast that sweetly yields All life to the People's prayer, — But my song grew sad with a minor tone From the souls of the outcast poor Who asked for work and received a stone, As they tramped o'er the lonely moor. Then T thought of a land whose faith was sealed By the blood of the brave and great — Of the strong, fierce bird, and the starry shield That guarded the halls of State, — But the eagle watched o'er the idle gold That was heaped on the rich man's floor, While the gaunt wolf leered at the toiler's fold. And howled by the poor man's door. U7 A Song for the Period I cannot join with llic olil liiiir fiieiuls In tht'ir merry f^aiiu-s and spurts While the pleacUiifj^ wail of the poor ascends To the Jiidp^e of the Upper Courts, — And [ cannot sinj^' the f^dad free sonps That the world aronnd nie sin^s, While my fellows move in crinj^ini,^ throngs At the heck of the .^ildi-d kiiij^^s. The scales hanj^' low, from the open skies, - That have weighed them one and all, — And the fiery letters gleam and rise O'er the feast in the palace hall, P>nt my lighter lays shall simnher on 'j'he honghs of the willow tree Till the King is slain in P.ahylon, And the c.'iplive hosts go free. 148 A VISION OF THE OLD AND NEW TwAS in tlic slmiibcr of llic night — Tliat S(jlcnin liinc, that mystic state — When, fnjni its loftiest si^Mial height, My soul o'eilo(;l«:d the reahn of I<'ate, Ariri read the writing on the wall, That prophesies of things U) be, And heard strange voices rise and fall Like nitirniurs from a distant sea. 'J'he world hrl.nv nic thiohhcd au'l rolled In all its ghjry, pride and shame, Its lust for power, its greed for gold, Jts flitting lights that man calls fame, — And frfjm their long and deep repose. In memory and page sublime, The ancient races round me rose Like phantoms from the tombs of Time. I saw the Alpine torrents press To 'J'iber with their snow-white foam. And prowling in the wilderness The wolf that suckled infant f^omc. But wilrlcr than the mountain firjod That plimged upon its downward way, Anrl fiercer than the she-wolf's brood. The soul of m.-m went fr^rth to stay. Kingdoms to rjuick existence sprang, Each thirsting ffjr another's gore, The din of wars incessant rang. And signs of hate each forehead wore. All nations bore the mark of din, And onlv knew fhe law f-f mif^ht : They livffl rnvl strove for selfish gain And perished like the dreams of night. ***♦♦«♦ 149 A Vision of the Old and Ne