LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 Shelf >.Gc2M h 
 
 UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. 
 

Around the Hearth 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 MILLEN SANFORD GREENE 
 
 7> 
 
 
 
 BUFFALO 
 
 CHARLES WELLS MOULTON 
 1894 
 

 Copyright, 1894, 
 By MILLEN SANFORD GREENE. 
 
 PRINTED BY 
 
 CHARLES WELLS MOULTON, 
 Buffalo, N. Y. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 Part I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 In the Vestibule 9 
 
 Around the Hearth n 
 
 Death of Cookruffin 13 
 
 The Red Ear of Corn 18 
 
 When I Went Fishing 21 
 
 The Spectral Maiden 25 
 
 The Uncrowned King 28 
 
 The Luck Flower 33 
 
 Unrequitted Love 3 6 
 
 A Sleighing Adventure 39 
 
 My Saturday Afternoon Walks 43 
 
 Part II. 
 
 In Behring Straits 49 
 
 The Voice of the Sea 52 
 
 Sea-side Meditations 54 
 
 Passing Shadows 56 
 
 The Sunken Chimes 57 
 
 Burial at Sea 59 
 
 The Wind God 61 
 
 My Mother's Song 63 
 
 Forgotten, Thou Wilt Never Be 64 
 
 Parted Friends 65 
 
 Spirit at Rest 66 
 
 A Summer Greeting 67 
 
 At My Daughter's Marriage 69 
 
 A Dream 7 1 
 
 Freedom's Triumph 73 
 
6 CONTENTS. 
 
 Are All the Children In ? 77 
 
 A Perfect Day 78 
 
 A Cheerful Old Age 79 
 
 The Reward of Well Doing 80 
 
 Hidden Teachings 81 
 
 June 83 
 
 The Breton Mariner's Prayer 84 
 
 Chautauquan Ode 85 
 
 To Saint Valentine 86 
 
 The Duty of To-day 87 
 
 The Reunion 88 
 
 "Good-Bye, Papa" 90 
 
 Bethlehem's Star 91 
 
 Yggdrasill 92 
 
 The Coming Storm 94 
 
 To the Old Year 96 
 
 Life's Toilers 98 
 
 The Rift in the Cloud 99 
 
 Unsatisfied 100 
 
 The Dying Day 101 
 
 To My Violin 103 
 
 The Magic Furrow 105 
 
 To a Lady Friend's Picture 108 
 
 The Festive Clam 109 
 
 The Old Love in 
 
 Upon Receiving a Box of Roses 113 
 
 To a Young Widow 114 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH 
 
PRELUDE. 
 
 IN THE VESTIBULE. 
 
 WITH trembling step I seek the sacred fane, 
 And 'neath its arches stand; 
 I list to voices ringing down the aisles 
 
 Melodious and grand. 
 Within its classic halls, on either hand, 
 
 The welcome smiles I see 
 Of bay-crowned victors in the lists of song 
 Their greeting give to me. 
 
 And so with reverence profound, I kneel, 
 
 And on its altar lay 
 This humble tribute. 'Tis my heart's best gift; 
 
 The sunshine of my day. 
 And if along the corridors there comes 
 
 One kind approving strain, 
 This modest offering at the muse's shrine, 
 
 Will not be made in vain. 
 
Around The Hearth, 
 
 IN this wide world, there is no earthly place, 
 Whence flows such tranquil streams 
 Of sweet content; where Love's benignant face 
 
 Reflects such radiant beams; 
 Where Heaven's serenest smiles hold gentler sway, 
 
 So pregnant with good cheer; 
 Than on that sacred spot. God blest for aye, 
 The home, to all so dear. 
 
 I mind me, on one winter's frosty night, 
 
 Before the wood-fire's blaze, 
 That bathed the whitened walls with rosy light, 
 
 As bright as summer days, 
 And warmed each heart in every tender fold, 
 
 By its persuasive glow; 
 A genial group sat round the hearth and told 
 
 Their tales of long ago. 
 
 The ample fire-place, flanked with massive stones, 
 
 Is filled with blazing brands; 
 The straddling fire-dogs, like some ancient crones, 
 
 In watchful fashion stand! 
 The iron tongs against the chimney's side 
 
 Lean in a quiet guise; 
 The faithful house-dog warms his glossy hide 
 
 And winks his dreamy eyes. 
 
12 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 The ag<6d grandsire, with his silvered hair, 
 
 And toil-worn wrinkled face, 
 Sits musingly within his old arm-chair, 
 
 In his accustomed place. 
 His bright eyes, twinkling with their wonted heat, 
 
 As one by one he calls 
 The youthful fancies from their dim retreat, 
 
 In mem'ry's shadowy halls. 
 
 Well stored with legends that his youthful prime 
 
 Had often heard rehearsed, 
 The morbid fancies of the olden time 
 
 The common herd had nursed; 
 The early trampings with his rod and gun, 
 
 The merry apple bees; 
 And husking frolics, come up one by one, 
 
 As treasured memories. 
 
 An ancient legendary tale to hear, 
 
 The eager listeners bend, 
 For illy can he brook a careless ear 
 
 That on his words attend. 
 So in his trembling, quaint and homely phrase, 
 
 With measured words and slow, 
 He tells a story of the Indian days, 
 
 That happened long ago. 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 13 
 
 DEATH OF COOKRUFFIN. 
 
 MISQUAMACUT, a goodly land, 
 By Narragansett's tribal band, 
 Had long been held in tenure strong, 
 Such as to Indian deeds belong. 
 No adverse claims of hostile chiefs 
 Had e'er maintained, however brief, 
 A foothold in its wide domains 
 Of fishing streams or woody plains; 
 But, like the winds that o'er them swept, 
 Their freedom in the chase had kept. 
 Though frail and scant their wigwams, yet 
 Small comforts all their wishes met; 
 And with a sense of sweet content, 
 And love of home so wisely blent, 
 These children of the forest dwelt, 
 And humbly at their altars knelt. 
 
 Its western bounds the Pawcatuck, 
 A placid stream, that seaward took, 
 'Mid fertile banks, its winding way, 
 Until it widened in the bay. 
 Its quiet bosom amply stored 
 With shad and alewives, to afford 
 Large bounties for the swarthy scores 
 Of dwellers on the woody shores. 
 
 Upon the river's western side. 
 The Pequots dwelt in homely pride; 
 Where undisturbed in sport or chase, 
 Through summers' heats and winters' wastes, 
 Their warriors, long in fierce array, 
 Had held their undisputed sway. 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 But now, like tribes on mischief bent, 
 Their neighbor's peace to circumvent, 
 They longed to roam the hunting grounds, 
 Beyond their own dominion's bounds; 
 And so, across the river's sands, 
 Upon the Narragansett's lands, 
 The Pequots cast their envious eyes, 
 Replete with hates and jealousies. 
 They saw their neighbor's peaceful ways; 
 Their wigwams bright as summer days; 
 And deemed such inoffensive state, 
 Too weakly and effeminate, 
 To wield the tomahawk and bow 
 Against a brave chivalric foe. 
 
 And so upon the river's banks, 
 They gathered all their warlike ranks; 
 From near and far the warriors came, 
 With ardent zeal and hearts aflame; 
 And thence, with menace, threat and raid, 
 A ford across the river made. 
 
 From Pawcatuck to Wequepaug, 
 Each foot of forest, hill and bog 
 The fierce invaders sought to own, 
 By virtue of a conquest, won. 
 How like are modern white men's schemes, 
 To gratify ambition's dreams 
 Of power, glory and renown, 
 By trampling some weak neighbor down. 
 
 The Narragansetts ill could bear 
 With hostile tribes their lands to share; 
 Their homes, to them, were far too dear, 
 To show a craven sense of fear! 
 Too well they loved their loyal wives, 
 To tamely yield to scalping knives! 
 The childern in their mother's arms, 
 Claimed mute protection from all harms! 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. \ 
 
 And so their warrior spirit rose, 
 To bravely meet their savage foes. 
 
 The fearful conflict there begun, 
 Had raged from morn to setting sun: 
 The open glades and forest dells 
 Resounded with the savage yells! 
 The cumbrous bow was laid aside, 
 And hand to hand the issue tried. 
 Brave warriors prone upon the field, 
 While life remained, disdained to yield, 
 Till deftly with the scalping knife, 
 The bloody trophys sealed the life. 
 
 So hard the Narragansetts pressed 
 Their stubborn foes, that, sore distressed, 
 The Pequots, fiercely obstinate, 
 With envy fired and deadly hate, 
 Contested, in their forced retreat, 
 Each foot of ground. But in the heat 
 Of conflict dire, they vainly tried 
 To stem the swift victorious tide, 
 That with the Narragansetts rose, 
 To overwhelm their savage foes. 
 The vengeance which each chief had vowed, 
 To wreak upon the invading crowd, 
 Was poured upon the hostile band, 
 E'en to the borders of their land. 
 The ford, at length, the Pequots crossed, 
 With all their hopes of conquest lost. 
 
 But one brave chief, who foremost pressed 
 The fleeing foe with vengeful zest, 
 Too far the stream had ventured o'er, 
 And stepped upon its hostile shore. 
 There 'mong his foes, in sullen mood, 
 The daring brave a captive stood: 
 And lest he 'scape their savage hands, 
 Bound his strong limbs with withy bands. 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 Before their Council great they brought 
 The captive chief. No one knew aught 
 That wonld condemn a warrior true, 
 Who coward stain or fear ne'er knew, 
 Save only, he, a hated foe 
 Had laid their bravest warriors low. 
 So with a hot revengeful breath, 
 They doomed the captive chief to death. 
 Unmoved the valient warrior heard, 
 From venomed lips, the fatal word: 
 But like true son of royal blood, 
 Erect in noble manhood stood; 
 Nor signified by word or sign, 
 A sense of fear. They may refine 
 The crual art of torture; tear 
 Limb from limb, and e'en prepare 
 The burning fagots round his feet, 
 To make his torments more complete, 
 But can not wring a single tear, 
 That tells of weakness or of fear. 
 
 A giant oak stood near the ford, 
 And spread its arms above the sward: 
 Its massive trunk a fitting stake, 
 Where valor, unsubdued could make 
 Of sturdy hearts, a sacrifice 
 And vengeance claim the bloody price. 
 To this, they bound the royal chief, 
 While overhead, each trembling leaf, 
 As conscious of the shameful death, 
 In painful silence held its breath. 
 The very air grew strangely calm 
 As if inspired with dread alarm. 
 Surrounded by his painted foes, 
 All armed with their death-arrowed bows, 
 They hurl upon his doomed head 
 Their taunts and jeers of malice bred. 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 17 
 
 Unmoved, he bared his manly breast; 
 Unbowed he held his noble crest; 
 Nor sense of pain, or tinge of fear, 
 Could move a nerve or force a tear. 
 
 When surfeit had of wordy spite, 
 And scornful gestures tired the sight, 
 Each warrior then his strong bow drew, 
 And from each arm the arrow flew. 
 The chieftain in his bosom felt 
 The sting, the deadly weapons dealt. 
 
 Amid his foes' exultant cries, 
 While tears bedewed the mourning skies, 
 The spirit of the warrior passed, 
 And with his fathers dwelt at last, 
 Thus like a patriot true and tried 
 The fearless, brave CookrufTin died. 
 
 The grandsire's long drawn tale of savage strife, 
 
 Rehearsed with such minute details, as old 
 Men love, the first remembrances of life, 
 
 To tell to listeners in the younger fold, 
 Was ended, and around the circle's edge, 
 
 A gentle tremor ran, like rippling flow 
 Of brooklets, creeping 'neath the reedy sedge, 
 
 To where the cowslips and the lilies grow. 
 So well had he portra>ed the bloody scene, 
 So vividly each act of savage spleen, 
 Jt seemed the baser tones of earth's deep wail 
 Were sounded in the depths of that old tale, 
 When blinded passion ruled the common life; 
 A foe to peace; a friend to warring strife. 
 
 With cap of snowy white and beaming eye, 
 And face, tho' wrinkled with the length of years> 
 
18 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 Yet lighted with the brightness of a life, 
 On which all worldly cares had lightly laid 
 Their heavy load, and who; even now, retained 
 The freshness, in a large degree, of youth, 
 The Grandam sat, just where the ruddy glow 
 Jllumed her countenance, and radient made 
 The quiet smile that played around her lips, 
 And gave fresh lustre to her sparkling eyes. 
 To turn the current of the sober thoughts, 
 Wrought by the grandsire's legendary tale, 
 To more congenial and happier moods, 
 With sidelong glance to where the grandsire sat 
 As if some youthful fancies she recalled, 
 Which mem'ry long had cherished, she began 
 A story of her early maidenhood. 
 
 THE RED EAR OF CORN. 
 
 IT seems so many years ago, 
 When in my sun-bright morning, 
 Life's joys, with constant overflow 
 Of youthful spirits, all aglow, 
 Foretold Hope's radiant dawning. 
 
 Among the bright autumnal days, 
 
 That graced one mild September, 
 When harvest fields seemed all ablaze, 
 With bearded wheat and spindled maize, 
 Ah! well do I remember. 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 19 
 
 The ample stretch of ripened field, 
 That cheered our thrifty neighbor; 
 
 A prophecy of fullsome yield, 
 
 Unto his sanguine heart revealed 
 The fruitage of his labor. 
 
 I stood beside our neighbor's son! 
 
 We husked the corn together! 
 He, tall and manly, full of fun, 
 I such a gay and timid one, 
 
 Yet buoyant as a feather. 
 
 I'm sure I never shall forget 
 
 My heart's intenser feeling. 
 And burning cheeks, as thus we met, 
 As fading twilight lingered yet, 
 
 The blushes half concealing. 
 
 For when the first red ear he found, 
 
 And knew its mystic meaning; 
 That favors are with blessings crowned, 
 When duty prompts, or love abounds, 
 
 With no distrustful leaning; 
 
 He, not for coyish maiden stayed, 
 
 Or bashful prudence thinking, 
 But claimed the tender forfeit made, 
 And gallantly the tribute paid, 
 
 With no unmanly thinking! 
 
 Full fifty years have passed away, 
 
 With no regretful feelings, 
 And every harvest seems to-day, 
 Illumined with a brighter ray 
 
 For love's diviner dealings. 
 
20 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 For all along' life's pathway lie 
 
 The reddened ears of duty, 
 And we, my neighbor's son and I 
 Have paid the forfeits faithfully, 
 In love's transcendant beauty. 
 
 "Well said," the aged grandsire made reply, 
 
 As on his staff he leaned, and swayed his head, 
 
 In pleasant recognition of the tale, 
 
 So well rehearsed in grandam's homely phrase. 
 
 " I know," said he, " the pleasure I enjoyed, 
 
 When that sweet forfeit of my youth was paid. 
 
 Although long years hath intervened, and life 
 
 Hath been o'erwearisome and dull at times, 
 
 Yet that sweet pledge as lovingly remains, 
 
 And sweeter grows as days and years go by." 
 
 The very wood-fire seemed to recognize 
 
 The genial smiles that overspread each face; 
 
 For suddenly, the brightness of its blaze, 
 
 The faces in the circle lighted up, 
 
 Like blushes on Aurora's radiant brow, 
 
 When dawn announces her divine approach. 
 
 Our father laid aside his chosen book, 
 
 And with becoming reverence listened to 
 
 His mother's quaint and tender narrative. 
 
 A hasty glance to where my mother sat; 
 
 A meaning smile upon his lips the while, 
 
 As if some sudden reminiscences 
 
 Came thronging up, of youthful scenes and times, 
 
 From out the dim, wierd shadows of the past, 
 
 And which, perchance, were treasured pictures, 
 
 hung 
 Within the sacred halls of memory. 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 He, with a simple nod to listening ears 
 Began his tribute to the evening task. 
 
 WHEN I WENT FISHING. 
 
 WITHIN a forest's cool retreat, 
 Beneath an oak's outspreading arms, 
 A shelter from oppressive heat, 
 And troubled fancy's rude alarms! 
 
 Beside a winding river's sweep; 
 
 Its silent current dark and wide; 
 Where down, within its murky deep, 
 
 The phantoms of the forest glide; 
 
 'Twas such a place, to me made dear, 
 Comes freshly to my quickened soul, 
 
 As memory with a record clear, 
 Reveals the writing on its scroll. 
 
 Familiar were those woody shades; 
 
 The winding paths — the cozy nook — 
 Where I, beneath the alder blades 
 
 Oft plied the rod and baited hook. 
 
 Still fresh in these my later years, 
 The trembling line I can descry, 
 
 When nibbling trout with wary fears, 
 Just came and touched the tempting fly. 
 
 What sweet delicious wine o'errun 
 The cup Dame Fortune held for me; 
 
 What mystic threads the Fates had spun, 
 To bind my heart, I did not see! 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 For suddenly a lovely maid 
 
 Appeared before my startled gaze, 
 
 Where, in the cool and friendly shade, 
 She'd strolled along the beaten ways! 
 
 Old friends, we thus together met 
 Upon the river's mossy bank; 
 
 I'm sure, I never shall forget 
 The nectar, there my spirit drank! 
 
 vShe was my friend in childhood's years; 
 
 We played together on the green; 
 And on the same school roll appears 
 
 Our names, in letters fair and clean. 
 
 Upon the bank we found a seat, 
 And conversed there of many things; 
 
 My rod and line lay at my feet, 
 And time flew by on golden wings, 
 
 Till twilight shadows, like a pall, 
 Began to shrowd the leafy wood, 
 
 And far above the tree-tops tall, 
 The guardians of the evening stood. 
 
 Reluctantly we left the spot, 
 But first a parting token gave; 
 
 For in that hour was born, I wot, 
 The richest boon my heart could crave! 
 
 In pleasure's quest, with rod and line, 
 I'd sought the river's shaded side, 
 
 Nor dreamed a treasure so divine, 
 For me, lurked near its flowing tide! 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 23 
 
 The all-enduring test of time, 
 Affection's strongest links have tried, 
 
 But ever, as in youthful prime, 
 I've loved and blest that river's side. 
 
 A pleasant smile passed o'er the mother's face, 
 
 With just a modest blush, that told a train 
 Of happy mem'ries that had swept apace 
 
 Across the intervening years, and lain, 
 As precious jewels in her heart's embrace, 
 
 That now with more than wonted lustre shone, 
 Imparting beauty and a lovely grace 
 
 To every comely feature, all her own. 
 In vain th' emotion of her heart she tried, 
 
 With all the discipline of mature years, 
 From sidelong glances of her friends to hide. 
 
 The real acknowledgement of love appears, 
 More visible within a woman's breast, 
 When modest blushes make it manifest. 
 Her mended stockings then she laid aside, 
 
 And through her friendly glasses, glanced around 
 Upon the smiling group. A conscious pride 
 
 Suppressed the rising thought, that almost found 
 Expression in a gently mild rebuke. 
 
 Upon an upper kitchen shelf, there lay 
 An old dust-covered box, as if forsook, 
 
 And touched with mouldy symptoms of decay. 
 In it were worn out screws and rusty nails, 
 
 Old broken files and bits of leather strings, 
 Some unmatched hinges, ears of unused pails, 
 
 And other refuse of discarded things, 
 That length of years had gathered one by one, 
 And kept, because of some good service done. 
 This box she drew from its long resting place, 
 
24 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 And carefully the mongrel contents scanned, 
 As if for some hid treasure; while her face, 
 
 With rapturous expectation, or the fire-glow, 
 fanned 
 To crimson blushes; and from thence drew out 
 
 The very hook, which on that August day, 
 In vain attempts to capture trout, 
 
 As listlessly upon the bank he lay! 
 Exultingly she cried, "To you I bring, 
 
 What made the joy at that familiar haunt, 
 And which, altho' a mean and senseless thing, 
 
 Hath ever been to me significant 
 Of that mysterious power, which cast aside 
 My youthful fancies for a life untried." 
 
 A genial fervor of approval passed 
 
 Around that pleased and happy group, and found 
 Expression in the hearty lamgh, that cast 
 
 Its sunny rays of cheer on all around. 
 " This hook," she said, " shall henceforth be to me, 
 
 One golden link that binds me to ihe past; 
 More firmly holding the sweet memory, 
 
 When Love at my young feet its jewels cast. 
 It is enough to know, that on that day, 
 
 The wily fish were cautious of the fly, 
 And kept so well aloof and far away, 
 
 The he, who held the rod, and tried to ply 
 This baited hook, absorbed in love no doubt, 
 
 Another merry ripple ran around 
 The charmtd circle, and amid applause 
 
 That followed with a hearty joyful sound, 
 The father's face (and for right good cause) 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 25 
 
 Was flushed with such a tell-tale crimson tint, 
 
 That proved its own acknowledgement 
 Of how the tale had given but a hint 
 
 Of what the mother's explanation meant. 
 The mirthfulness subsided, when all eyes, 
 
 With confident expectancy, were turned. 
 Towards her radient face, where no disguise 
 
 Could hide the flame that in her bosom burned 
 Thus mutely importuned, in simple rhyme, 
 Rehearsed a legend of the olden time. 
 
 THE SPECTRAL MAIDEN. 
 
 A LEGEND OF ROSE CREEK MINNESOTA. 
 
 A LEGEND of the olden time 
 Invests that quiet stream, 
 With all the magic of romance, 
 
 The shadings of a dream. 
 It was when on its virgin breast, 
 No white man e'er had gazed, 
 Nor yet upon its mossy banks 
 His log-house fire had blazed. 
 
 The only lordlings of the land, 
 
 The beasts, that roamed untamed; 
 The finny tenants of the stream 
 
 Lived undisturbed, unclaimed, 
 Save when some hungry water bird, 
 
 While watching for his prey, 
 The unsuspecting victim seized 
 
 As if in wanton play. 
 
26 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 Upon its banks, in course of time, 
 
 A band of red men came; 
 Those rovers of the wilderness, 
 
 In warm pursuit of game. 
 They found, beside the river's sweep, 
 
 A soft and mossy bed, 
 Whereon to stretch their swarthy limbs, 
 
 With spreading boughs o'erhead. 
 
 One morning, ere the flush of dawn, 
 
 Changed into rosy bloom, 
 And pearly dew-drops of the night 
 
 Hung glittering on the broom, 
 A vision, beautiful, appeared 
 
 Before the stranger's eyes, 
 That filled their simple untaught minds, 
 
 With wonder and surprise. 
 
 For on the river's further shore, 
 
 Beneath the branching wood, 
 Like one just out of Paradise, 
 
 A radient maiden stood! 
 A halo of celestial light 
 
 Shone round about her head; 
 Her countenance serenely bright, 
 
 A Heavenly lustre shed! 
 
 A flowing robe of purest white, 
 
 Her comely figure graced! 
 A gem of rarest brilliancy 
 
 Flashed on her snowy breast! 
 And on the beauteous maiden's feet 
 
 The golden sandals shone, 
 So like a queen in regal state 
 
 Upon her royal throne! 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 27 
 
 A moment more the red men gazed 
 
 Upon the vision fair! 
 Their very souls, enraptured, dazed! 
 
 'Twas strange beyond compare! 
 They looked again; lo! stranger still! 
 
 For in the rising dawn, 
 A light flashed o'er the distant hill, 
 
 And her bright form was gone! 
 
 Each rosy morn, with eager eyes, 
 
 They looked across the stream; 
 But never in the opening dawn, 
 
 Saw but the sun's bright beam, 
 As o'er the eastern hills it came, 
 
 And rested on the ground, 
 Where once the radiant maiden stood 
 
 With matchless beauty crowned. 
 
 But stranger yet! upon the spot 
 
 Her fairy feet had trod, 
 Beneath the overhanging boughs, 
 
 With golden sandals shod, 
 A bed of pure white roses sprang, 
 
 As by some magic hand, 
 And breathed delicious fragrance round 
 
 That virgin forest land! 
 
 " Enough," the father said, " for unto one % 
 
 The vision of that olden time, with modest grace, 
 Revealed her loveliness, where mortal eyes 
 
 Could gaze enraptured on her radiant face! 
 For she, it was, who, to the woodland came, 
 
 And sat beside me by the river's side; 
 And who, since then, hath made my home 
 
 A paradise, where angels might abide! " 
 
28 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 This unexpected turn, the genial group 
 
 With added joyousness and fresh delight, 
 Approval manifested and affirmed 
 
 The father's explanation to be right. 
 With modest blushes on the mother's cheeks, 
 
 She met their sunny smiles with pleasing grace, 
 That heightened her becoming loveliness, 
 
 And gave fresh lustre to her charming face. 
 
 Among that pleasant company, was one 
 
 Who years ago, in childhood's early day, 
 
 Played with ourgrandsires on the new mown hay, 
 And, who like him, watched his descending sun; 
 A welcome visitor among the farms, 
 
 Who loved to sit and talk of olden times; 
 
 Of tours in other lands, in other climes; 
 Of ventures on the seas, of storms and calms. 
 To him with one accord all eyes were turned, 
 
 With such imploring glances to recall 
 Some reminiscences that he had learned 
 
 Which none so well as he, could tell withal. 
 " I'll spin a yarn," said he, with gentle swing, 
 
 " How once I visited an island lone, 
 And bowed before an uncrowned king, 
 
 As he reclined upon his log-built throne." 
 
 THE UNCROWNED KING. 
 
 IT was in eighteen-nfty-two, 
 We sailed along the equator's line, 
 Upon the broad Pacific's blue, 
 With gentle breezes, soft and fine. 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 29 
 
 With all her whitened canvas spread, 
 The goodly ship her way pursued, 
 
 And o'er the trackless waters sped, 
 As if with conscious life endued. 
 
 The lookout at the topmast head, 
 His glass around the circle swept, 
 
 Where calmly in their misty bed, 
 The sea and sky together slept. 
 
 Outlined upon the filmy verge, 
 
 A lonely island dimly lay, 
 And on its outer reefs, the surge, 
 
 A slender fringe of whitened spray. 
 
 With courses down and topsail free, 
 We sailed toward the distant land, 
 
 Perchance our dull monotony 
 To break upon its wave-washed strand. 
 
 We neared the reef, as seemed good, 
 And swung the topsail yards aback; 
 
 There sleepily, the old ship stood, 
 And nodded in her watery track. 
 
 Upon our weather bow the land; 
 
 Beneath the trees we could descry 
 The low huts of the dwellers stand, 
 
 With groups of people gathered by. 
 
 Two well-manned boats rowed from our side, 
 On through the gentle heaving surf; 
 
 With swarthy natives for our guide, 
 We landed on their friendly turf. 
 
3 o AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 Upon a rising slope of ground 
 With giant trees on either hand, 
 
 The palace of the king we found, 
 Where dwelt the ruler of the land. 
 
 Some rough-hewn logs, a platform made; 
 
 A leafy canopy o'erhead; 
 Some mats of woven palm o'erlaid, 
 
 Was all the dusky monarch's bed. 
 
 Reclining on his dexter arm, 
 There, like a lion stern and grim 
 
 He lay, a large and stalwart form, 
 With massive strength in every limb. 
 
 Beside him, sat his faithful slave, 
 And with a fan of feathered palm, 
 
 Brushed off the wanton flies, that gave 
 Disquiet to his rigid calm. 
 
 The gentle hint we did not need, 
 That lack of courtesy might see, 
 
 The tyrant on our bodies feed, 
 To appease offended majesty. 
 
 So to his royal palace, grand, 
 To pay our homage humbly went; 
 
 And there, discreetly, hats in hand, 
 Before him reverently bent. 
 
 His cringing subjects gathered round, 
 But none dare in his presence stand, 
 
 Or walk erect, or near be found 
 Against his majesty's command. 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 31 
 
 The monarch, without nod or smile, 
 
 His eagle eyes upon us set, 
 As if to warn against, meanwhile, 
 
 A breach of savage etiquette. 
 
 No king upon a gilded throne, 
 With treasures vast at his command, 
 
 Whose sceptre could an empire own, 
 And rule with an imperious hand, 
 
 That naked monarch could exceed, 
 
 In royal dignity and ease; 
 More like the king of beasts indeed, 
 
 Reclining 'neath his native trees. 
 
 Enough had Eden's primal needs, 
 Ere yet the fig leaf lent its charms; 
 
 So his one garment, only beads, 
 Around Ins strong and brawny arms. 
 
 And here, methought a type might be, 
 Of human life when earth was young; 
 
 When passions ruled uncurbed and free, 
 With fierce desires the tribes among. 
 
 Like this the germ, from whence hath grown, 
 Along the lapse of countless years, 
 
 The mighty dynasties whose thrones, 
 Have been baptized in blood and tears. 
 
 We strolled about the groves at will, 
 And gathered, by some barter fair, 
 
 Mementos of their untaught skill, 
 For trinkets that we well could spare. 
 
32 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 At length we bade our friends adieu, 
 And waved to them our dumb farewell; 
 
 We, our lone voyage to pursue; 
 They, in their solitude to dwell. 
 
 The eager circle listened with delight 
 
 And interest intense unto the tale, 
 
 The visitor vouchsafed, with kind avail, 
 In smooth but stately measure to recite. 
 A flood of simple questionings began, 
 
 As all desirous were the truth to know, 
 Of how the people looked, and how the man 
 
 Whom he had called the king, could truly show 
 Such dignity and bearing on his throne ? 
 And by what subtle power he ruled alone ? 
 What sign of royalty did he possess ? 
 
 Did his commanding presence, with such awe 
 
 Inspire his subjects, that his will was law? 
 What kind of beads were those, his only dress ? 
 The men and women of his small domain, 
 
 What was their color ? what their scant attire ? 
 W r hat kind of shelter from the wind and rain ? 
 
 And what the food that made their daily fare ? 
 All this and more of what he saw and knew, 
 
 In simple narrative the pictures drew. 
 
 At once some speculations were begun, 
 As how and whence these people first became 
 Possessed of this lone isle, and from what name 
 
 Or nation were they sprung beneath the sun. 
 
 The grandsire thought that such, perhaps, might be 
 The social plane from which our own hath sprung, 
 
 When tribal bands, with low desires and free, 
 Roamed o'er the earth, its hills and vales among: 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 33 
 
 Who knew no law save such as nature gave 
 When brutal force held every man a slave. 
 Our maiden aunt some legends of the past 
 
 Had studied, found in tomes of ancient lore, 
 Around the circle furtive glances cast, 
 
 As if her portion of that goodly store 
 She would contribute from old mythic days; 
 She thus began in legendary phrase, 
 The sad experience of one who sought 
 For present wealth, and how 'twas dearly bought. 
 
 THE LUCK FLOWER. 
 
 A GERMAN MYTH. 
 
 UPON the sloping sides of Ibsenstein, 
 A mount that reared its rounded crest 
 In ancient Germany, there lived, 'twas said, 
 A humble shepherd, who, in virtue's ways, 
 Watched o'er his flocks, as faithful shepherds do, 
 Apart from all the busy haunts of men, 
 And so removed from their seductive wiles. 
 One day, while driving up his little flock 
 Towards the mountain's summit, weary grown, 
 He leaned, to rest awhile, upon his staff; 
 When lo! the mountain opened suddenly. 
 For in his shepherd's crook there lay concealed, 
 The beautiful blue flower, whose magic power, 
 So runs the myth, could penetrate and cleave 
 Asunder flinty rocks. 
 
 There he beheld, 
 Upon a golden couch, in regal robes, 
 The lovely princess Isle. At her feet, 
 
34 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 And all around, vast heaps of shining gold, 
 Exceeding far his most illusive dreams. 
 Her gracious smiles and gentle, winning ways, 
 Beguiled his virtuous soul. While listening to 
 Her fascinating words, he quite forgot 
 The humble and contented life which he 
 Before had lived, while leading forth his flocks. 
 A potent spell, like some enchanting dream, 
 Absorbed his thoughts, and him a captive led. 
 Obedient to her fair command, he stooped 
 And filled his pockets with the precious coins. 
 Which done, he turned to seek the light of day: 
 When with her winsome voice, the princess said: 
 
 " Do not forget the best! " meaning his staff. 
 Which he had thoughtless leaned against the wall. 
 Mistaking her delusive words, he stopped 
 To gather yet more of the tempting gold. 
 
 Now all the latent force of selfish greed, 
 That hitherto had slumbered in his breast, 
 
 Awoke within him new and strange delights. 
 
 Already visions of a paradise 
 
 Of earthly splendors filled his wakened thoughts. 
 
 When he, surrounded by the promised wealth 
 
 His fancy painted, would be his t'enjoy. 
 
 No longer on the mountain's sloping sides, 
 
 Or in the grassy vales to guard his flocks; 
 
 But stately mansions, in whose gilded halls, 
 
 His feet would tread the measures of a prince. 
 Alas! for all his visionary dreams! 
 
 For with a thund'ring crash the mountain closed, 
 
 And he was severed bodily in twain! 
 
 Thus perished he who, in the winding toils 
 
 Of evil, laid aside his virtue's staff, 
 
 And with it, lost, for sake of worldly lust, 
 
 The 1 lest fruitions of a humble life! 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 35 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 They, who, for greed of sordid wealth 
 
 Forsake fair Wisdom's ways, 
 And listen to the siren's call, 
 
 Her honeyed words of praise, 
 May ne'er in conscious rectitude, 
 Attain the meed of promised good; 
 For Wisdom cast in virtue's mould, 
 Is greater wealth than mines of gold. 
 
 This ancient legend with its moral brought 
 
 From old traditions of primeval lore, 
 Recalled the time, when common truths were taught 
 
 By symbols gleaned from Nature's ample store; 
 Where in its secret chambers were concealed 
 
 The common virtues of the human mind; 
 Their useful lessons only were revealed 
 
 To man, by intuitions, unrefined, 
 Known only by the few, and least of all 
 
 By devotees, who at some mystic shrine, 
 With supplications vain and frantic calls 
 
 Upon some deity they deemed divine. 
 A brief discussion of the lessons taught 
 
 In these old faiths around the circle went, 
 And all agreed that what of knowledge sought 
 
 By darkened minds, was with sincere intent. 
 
 Among that deeply interested band, 
 
 Was one, whose lips, in all that evening hour, 
 Had been as closely sealed, as if a power, 
 
 Much like the touch of zero's frigid hand, 
 
36 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 Was laid upon them; silence so profound, 
 
 That not a token of approval came, 
 Or outward sign, or uttered word or sound, 
 That would the very least attention claim. 
 But when was done, the tales of other lands 
 The quiet " Uncle Kit " waved both his hands, 
 As if commanding silence, then began 
 A rhyme about a discontented man. 
 
 A 1 
 
 UNREQUITTED LOVE. 
 
 LI, is not gold that glitters: 
 Or balm that perfume yields; 
 The zephyr's breath is lade with death 
 That blows o'er desert fields; 
 So life is often but the seeming guise 
 Of brightest flowers that bloom beneath the skies! 
 
 When in life's early manhood, 
 
 The future years seem bright; 
 The youthful mood for promised good, 
 That pleasures then invite, 
 Is purified when love's supreme control, 
 Makes holy all the longings of the soul. 
 
 The love that charms and blesses, 
 
 Is nought, if not divine, 
 And blest is he, whose soul is free 
 To worship at its shrine, 
 Like Calla Lilies' sweet perfume, it gives 
 |ts fragrant benedictions while it live$! 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 37 
 
 Alas! for love's fruition! 
 
 Its round of dear delights! 
 As beckoning hands of desert sands 
 The far mirage invites: 
 So oft we find the love we would possess, 
 Is distant still, and hopes grow daily less. 
 
 There seldom is a friendship 
 
 So promising and fair, 
 Like the summer rose, that lives and grows, 
 With tender loving care, 
 But through some secret weakness or disguise, 
 Is seen the shadow that behind it lies! 
 
 The love that's unrequited; 
 The sharpest sting of all, 
 To the whole of life, its calm and strife 
 Brings bitterness and gall! 
 When thorns instead of roses strew the way, 
 And piece the weary feet, that thither stray. 
 
 The round of earthly pleasures 
 
 Are pregnant with distress! 
 The precious years are moist with tears 
 Of conscious wretchedness. 
 The flame that warmed our youthful heart's desires 
 Still lives, but smoulders in love's unquenched fires! 
 
 Thus youthful hopes are thwarted, 
 
 And vain the fond pursuit 
 For happiness, the years to bless, 
 With love's divinest fruit: 
 A few long lonesome days, and that is all! 
 A heart unloved must drink life's bitter gall. 
 
38 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 The air of discontent that marked this song 
 
 Was such, that in the mild applause, 
 A feeling that some real or fancied wrong 
 
 Had been to him the seeming cause 
 Of the despondent, friendless spirit shown 
 
 In every measured line and rhyme; 
 Some fondly loved and cherished hopes had flown 
 
 Across his manhood's early prime. 
 
 Again into his solitary mood 
 
 And strangely still reserve he sank; 
 Of all the goodly group, least understood; 
 
 Life's pleasures seemed to him a blank. 
 The hopeless tenor of the theme had wrought 
 
 A moment of subdued suspense, 
 With divers moods of sober, silent thought, 
 
 From his accustomed reticence. 
 
 Then as the waning embers of the fire 
 
 With fainter heat were burning low, 
 Outspoke the staid and quiet old grandsire, 
 
 Who wished his grandson, Tom, to know, 
 (Such telling emphasis he gave to it, 
 
 That Tom could not the meaning miss): 
 " When I was young," he said, " I would not sit 
 
 Beside a fire so mean as this." 
 
 A merry ripple of approving smiles 
 
 Illumed each cheerful listener's face, 
 With that rich glow, which mirth alone beguiles, 
 
 And gives to life a pleasing grace. 
 The pointed hint, Tom quickly understood, 
 
 And on the fire the fuel laid; 
 Then by the lambent flames of blazing wood, 
 
 His tribute to the evening paid. 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 39 
 
 A SLEIGHING ADVENTURE. 
 
 "T'WAS once on a time, on a mild winter's day, 
 
 1 Jo Williams and I took a ride in a sleigh; 
 The snow had just fallen, 'twas the first that we 
 
 had, 
 So a chance for adventure just made our hearts 
 
 glad. 
 
 So oft for the city a full score of miles, 
 
 Through the half broken drifts in the narrow defiles, 
 
 Over hills almost bared by the strong sweeping 
 
 blast, 
 We two careless youngsters drove merry and fast. 
 
 Arrived at the city without a mishap, 
 We wandered about without caring a snap 
 Whether time went by swiftly or moderate in pace, 
 So long as we saw all the sights in the place. 
 
 We both were as verdant, as verdant could be! 
 No unripened fruit could be greener than we! 
 To visit a city we had both been denied, 
 So we yearned for the wonders our thoughts 
 magnified. 
 
 We gazed in the stores and we stared at the girls, 
 Admired their red cheeks and their beautiful curls; 
 We longed for the sweetmeats that tempted our 
 
 eyes, 
 But sighed for our purses' diminutive size. 
 
4o AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 We looked at the buildings so massive and tall, 
 And wondered what uses were found for them all: 
 Adorning their fronts were large letters of gold, 
 So lustrous, they dazzled our eyes to behold. 
 
 And all to our innocent fancy that came, 
 
 I'm sure it is -useless to try now to name, 
 
 Such numberless things that to us were all new, 
 
 O'erwhelmed us with wonder the whole day through. 
 
 The shorteniug length of the sun's lessening height, 
 Recalled the few hours between us and night, 
 That homeward we must be ere long on our way, 
 For prudence forbade us to longer delay. 
 
 Reluctantly bidding the city farewell, 
 
 Having laid up a store of its wonders to tell: 
 
 Our good horse and cutter, with homeward turned 
 
 head, 
 Along the smooth snow-path we lightsomely sped. 
 
 Soon before us we saw, plodding on thro' the snow, 
 An object that touched the compassion of Jo; 
 A lady, well dressed, but for aught that we knew, 
 Might be black as Erebus, and uglier too. 
 
 But Jo, not caring but to play a good joke, 
 Beneath the thin guise of a merciful cloak, 
 Said to me, " If you'll ask yonder lady to ride, 
 I'll walk the short distance, where she may reside." 
 
 I took up his challenge and drove on alone, 
 Disappointed most happily, I may as well own, 
 For blooming red cheeks, and a sweet modest face, 
 Accepted my offer with dignified grace. 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 41 
 
 Well tucked in the sleigh 'neath the buffalo's folds, 
 So snugly and warm, we could laugh at the cold, 
 We drove on and chatted in innocent glee, 
 As happy as clams 'neath high tides of the sea. 
 
 I supposed that her home must be some house in 
 
 sight, 
 Each moment expecting she would ask to alight: 
 But what my susprise and sudden dismay, 
 When told she resided some four miles away! 
 
 I thought of the wrath of unfortunate Jo, 
 If compelled now to travel four miles in the snow: 
 And what he had thought would on me be a joke, 
 Now found himself bearing the short end of the 
 yoke. 
 
 But there was no remedy Joseph could find, 
 
 So he nursed his resentment and trudged on behind: 
 
 While the lady's bright, modest demeanor and 
 
 grace, 
 Gave speed to the moments that flew on apace. 
 
 The warmth of her grateful acknowledgements 
 
 made, 
 Told how timely the favor, how welcome the aid: 
 But her musical voice as it said the "good-bye, " 
 Betrayed some emotion, I never knew why. 
 
 Since then, that sweet face I never have met, 
 And even her name is a mystery yet ; 
 Of one thing I'm certain, Jo never forgot 
 The joke that he played, and how dearly 'twas 
 bought. 
 
42 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 The gentle ripple that had hitherto 
 
 Passed round the circle, when some pleasing tale 
 Was told, a torrent now became, which drew 
 
 Forth loud applause and cheers that did not fail 
 To provoke merriment, even in the staid 
 
 And quiet habit of the ag6d sire, 
 Who, with keen relish, listened, as he swayed 
 
 Upon his cane before the cheerful fire. 
 And yet, beneath it all, a secret touch 
 
 Of sympathy for poor unlucky Jo 
 Was manifest, that he had suffered much 
 
 In his long toilsome tramping through the snow. 
 
 But now there came a genuine surprise 
 
 To all who sat around that kitchen fire! 
 Like those prophetic visions that apprise 
 
 Of such delights as human souls desire. 
 A visitor, whose welcome presence lent, 
 
 Where'er she chanced to be, a certain grace 
 Of brilliant, sparkling cheer and merriment, 
 
 Within the circle found a favored place. 
 The village doctor's estimable wife, 
 
 And neighbor, heard the story Tom portrayed. 
 Her beaming eyes seemed with emotion rife, 
 
 And tell-tale blushes, secret thoughts betrayed. 
 For very joy she rose and raised her hands, 
 
 Exclaiming, in a sudden burst of glee, 
 " That very maiden now before you stands, 
 
 11 Who thus did ride her home and friends to see! 
 "Those tedious miles I oft before had trod: 
 
 " But now, the snow, the journey made severe; 
 "And though a stranger asked with kindly nod, 
 
 "I risked the venture with becoming cheer. 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 43 
 
 " I well recall how welcome was that ride; 
 
 " And how I wondered why we went so slow; 
 ' ' And how my escort, seemed a little tried 
 
 ' ' At something, which of course, I could not 
 know. 
 " Had I but known that his companion, Jo, 
 
 11 Was plodding after with a rueful face, 
 " I surely would have traveled in the snow, 
 
 "And not usurped another's rightful place." 
 
 This unexpected turn in that bright round 
 
 Of sunny merriment, filled with susprise, 
 Each listener's ear, none more than Tom's who 
 found 
 
 How hard it was to credit his own eyes: 
 When right before him stood the rosy lass, 
 
 Who rode with him that strange adventure 
 through: 
 If doubting thoughts through any mind did pass, 
 
 Her declaration proved his story true. 
 But when subsided had the merriment, 
 
 And quietude prevailed again, 
 The doctor's worthy wife her tribute lent, 
 
 And told the sequel in her brightest vain. 
 
 MY SATURDAY AFTERNOON 
 WALKS. 
 
 FOR many months I traveled 
 Along that very road, 
 Home from my weekly labors 
 Weary to my abode, 
 
44 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 To spend the quiet Sabbath 
 Beneath my father's roof, 
 
 And from the world's turmoil 
 To keep myself aloof. 
 
 Sometimes a kindly neighbor; 
 
 Sometimes a stranger friend 
 Would volunteer to take me 
 
 Unto my journey's end. 
 But oftener tired and hungry 
 
 I walked the way alone; 
 Nor thought it very dreary 
 
 (Tho' sometimes late, I own). 
 
 One afternoon was stormy; 
 
 I started for my home; 
 The wind and rain were fearful; 
 
 The road was muddy loam; 
 I saw, drive up beside me, 
 
 Within a covered wain, 
 A youth, who kindly offered 
 
 To shield me from the rain. 
 
 With more than grateful feelings, 
 
 I took the proffered ride; 
 I quite forgot the tempest, 
 
 While seated by his side, 
 For I before had known him, 
 
 When in my school-girl days, 
 And learned then to respect him, 
 
 And like his pleasant ways. 
 
 Full many a time and often, 
 On stormy days and clear, 
 
 W r hen my week's work was ended, 
 He came with kindly cheer, 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 45 
 
 And more than friendship's greetings, 
 
 That warm in mem'ry lie; 
 When winged hours of pleasnre 
 
 Flitted unheeded by. 
 
 To-day his pleasant greetings 
 
 Are full of joy to me; 
 And years of true devotion 
 
 Are visions fair to see. 
 We've walked life's road together, 
 
 In sunshine and in shade, 
 And never in its windings 
 
 In devious paths have strayed. 
 
 With him on mercy's errands; 
 
 With him in pleasure's quest; 
 With him, when clouds of sorrow 
 
 Obscured our noonday rest; 
 With him beyond the river, 
 
 When earthly walks are o'er, 
 I hope to tread the pavements 
 
 Upon the farther shore. 
 
 The story ended, when a cheerful round 
 
 Of generous applause 
 Attested to the genuine delight; 
 
 And in the moments pause, 
 Which followed her completed narrative, 
 
 Tom's face was all aglow, 
 And with his quiet native modesty 
 
 Exclaimed, " If that be so, 
 
46 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 " I am rejoiced to know, at this late day, 
 
 The truth she now declares, 
 The pleasure once was mine, to entertain 
 
 An angel unawares! " 
 This pleasant sally broadened every smile, 
 
 And each with earnest zest, 
 Congratulated Tom's well-timed response, 
 
 Of all their sayings, best. 
 
 Just then, the tall old-fashioned clock's wieni voice 
 
 The hour of ten proclaim 3d; 
 The quiet hour, in which to seek repose 
 
 The grandsire always named. 
 Then in his gentle reverential way, 
 
 He bade " Good-night " to all, 
 And asked that holy benedictions might 
 
 Descend on great and small. 
 
 Thus ended one of life's serenest days, 
 
 Remembered with its best; 
 Like wayside fountains bubbling sweet and clear, 
 
 Where weary marchers rest, 
 Reluctantly the parting hands were clasped, 
 
 As each farewell was said; 
 Ere long, the gentle goddess of repose, 
 
 Breathed o'er each sleeper's bed. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
IN BEHRING STRAITS. 
 
 BOTH CONTINENTS IN SIGHT. 
 
 A DREAMY haze, such as is only seen 
 In Arctic's noon of summer's mildest days 
 Pervades the atmosphere, and on the cold 
 Ice-tempered waters of this narrow strait 
 Rests, like a benediction from above. 
 
 On either hand, huge promontories stand; 
 The bastioned outposts of great continents; 
 And boldly raise their stately heads in air; 
 Majestic in their towering strength, and grim 
 In all the aspects of their outward forms; 
 Their heads snow- crowned; their feet rock- bound 
 
 and torn; 
 Their ragged sides all desolation marked; 
 Their bases fringed with lines of whitened foam 
 Of the impatient waves, as heavily 
 They dash against the adamantine walls 
 With wild relentless fury, while the spray 
 Is hurled upon their dusky sides, like sheets 
 Of silvery mist. 
 
 Far up the rugged cliffs, 
 And wheeling round in graceful circles, fly 
 The screaming sea-birds, whose shrill notes 
 
 mingle 
 With the sea's sepulchral voice. To and fro, 
 Food-laden, they convey to gaping mouths 
 Of their impatient young, reposing in 
 Their airy nests on some projecting crag, 
 The precious morsels gleaned from sea and shore. 
 
50 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 The native monsters of the Arctic seas, 
 The seal and walrus, and the larger still 
 Leviatham, here sport and roam at will, 
 When summer's sun unlocks this icy gate. 
 
 Across this highway to the open sea, 
 An arch of phosphorescent light is stretched, 
 With either foot upon the snow-white heads 
 Of yonder massive buttresses; a bridge 
 Of pure enchantment, which together binds 
 Two hemispheres with bright auroral fires, 
 The pyrotechnics of the frozen zone. 
 Like warriors grim, in mailed armor clad, 
 These barren, storm-worn cliffs stand boldly forth, 
 And hurl their proud defiance, each to each, 
 With voices like the thunder's distant growl; 
 While Diomedes,* faithful sentinel, 
 Midway between the frowning giants, stands 
 And watches them with an untiring eye. 
 
 The mighty nations of these continents, 
 In course of time, have struggled, reeled and fell, 
 And on their ruins others rose to life; 
 The world, awhile, would tremble with their power; 
 Again to shake it with their dying throes. 
 
 But years have witnessed these firm battlements 
 Receive unmoved the ponderous iceberg's shocks, 
 Hurled with relentless fury, by the force 
 Of Arctic tempests, 'gainst their rocky base; 
 Nor length of time, nor utmost stretch of power, 
 Save by the Almighty's hand, their aspects hoar, 
 Can change, or shake them from their stable bed; 
 And not until, with fervant heat, the earth 
 Shall melt, and like a fragile parchment scroll, 
 Be broken and dissolved and pass away, 
 Will these grim outworks of the continents 
 
 * A small rocky island between the two capes. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 51 
 
 Be moved from their deep and firm foundations; 
 But lifting high their proud majestic forms, 
 Proclaim the fiat of Omnipotence: 
 "Thus far shalt thou advance. Mere must thou 
 
 stay, 
 And in thy firm, reliant attitude, 
 Forever hold the continents spart." 
 1851. 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 THE VOICE OF THE SEA. 
 
 WHAT news art bringing from over the sea, 
 Thou foam-capped billows of brine? 
 What messages art thou whispering to me, 
 As thy white lips beckon to mine ? 
 
 I lay mine ear to thy wave- washed sand, 
 
 And list to the weird undertone, 
 That comes with the surge from the far-off strand, 
 
 Like the sobs of a distant moan. 
 
 It comes like soft music into my soul, 
 
 In cadences plaintive and low; 
 It seems like the dirge which the ages unroll, 
 
 As I list to thy rythmical flow. 
 
 Is it sweet sounds from the coral isles, 
 
 Where the sea-god's temples are? 
 The chanting of priests in the deep defiles, 
 
 That lead to their place of prayer? 
 
 Is it the moan of a dying gale, 
 
 Whose breath is well nigh spent, 
 Bearing its load with a sorrowing wail 
 
 From the islands of discontent? 
 
 Is it thy lullaby song to repose 
 
 When the sunset portal unbars, 
 As thy wave-rocked cradle, when the daylight 
 goes, 
 
 Lulls in thv bosom the stars ? 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 53 
 
 Is it the suppliant pleadings and cries 
 Of languishing sea-nymphs that weep, 
 
 While breathing their love to the tremulous skies, 
 Way down in thy fathomless deep ? 
 
 Not these! my spirit bows with reverent fear, 
 When the oncoming billows I greet; 
 
 For the voice of thy great Creator I hear. 
 As they foam and dash at my feet. 
 
54 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 SEA-SIDE MEDITATIONS. 
 
 IN thoughtful mood, along the sands 
 Of ocean's whitened fringe I strolled, 
 And listened to the music grand 
 
 Its waves had sung since days of old. 
 Beside the mighty minstrelsy 
 
 My very soul with awe was stirred; 
 For strains like these from human lips 
 The numbered ages never heard. 
 
 I gathered pebbles on the shore, 
 
 And shells of every form and shade, 
 And pondered o'er the matchless skill 
 
 That in these trifles was displayed; 
 But there I thought beneath the tides, 
 
 Where mortal eye could never beam, 
 The wealth of ocean's wonders far 
 
 Exceeds the fancy's brightest dream. 
 
 I stood beside the massive piers, 
 
 And saw the waves around them play, 
 And wondered why such seeming strength 
 
 Was needed for their quiet stay. 
 But when I've seen old ocean rise 
 
 And hurl its waves resistless on, 
 And marked the wrecks of human skill 
 
 Along their thundering pathway strewn, 
 
 I thought how man was all too weak 
 And poor to utter word or breath, 
 
 Or lift a hand to stay a power, 
 Whose very pastimes end in death; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 55 
 
 Or vie with the consummate skill 
 That fashioned all its countless forms; 
 
 Or touch the grand majestic chord 
 That's heard amid its angry storms. 
 
 As my short vision only saw 
 
 The simpler lessons Ocean gives, 
 I could not know the subtle power 
 
 That in its inner chamber lives. 
 Too great for human souls to grasp, 
 
 Too high for human thoughts to reach, 
 Too grand in all its mighty works, 
 
 To find a place in human speech. 
 
56 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 PASSING SHADOWS. 
 
 WHEN filmy clouds float leisurely along 
 Athwart the Summer's noonday sun, 
 Like spectral sheets of white and fleecy down, 
 Borne slowly onward one by one; 
 
 And mark their progress on the laughing earth, 
 
 In fitful shadows o'er the land, 
 The stately trees and modest blooming flowers 
 
 Their welcome speak with waving hands. 
 
 For grateful seems the cooling zephyr's breath, 
 When, from the scorching sun's bright rays, 
 
 A moment's respite these brief shadows give, 
 Like resting places in long days. 
 
 So when brief clouds obscure our noonday sun, 
 And on our lives their shadows cast, 
 
 The rest seems sweeter with the conscious thought, 
 All will be brighter when they're passed. 
 
 Altho' adversity may sorely press, 
 Its shadows make our pathway dim, 
 
 'Tis blest to know the same bright morning sun 
 Illumes the cloudlet's outer rim. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 57 
 
 THE SUNKEN CHIMES. 
 
 It is said that sailors in the Carribbean Seas fancy they hear 
 :himes oJ bells of a submerged island. 
 
 WHAT mellow tones are these I hear 
 From depths of green and blue ? 
 What music strikes upon my ear 
 So sweetly and so seeming near, 
 That thrills my being through ? 
 
 As distant chimes they come to me 
 
 Now vanished, now renewed, 
 Like waifs upon the throbbing sea, 
 That rise and fall so passively, 
 
 In restful quietude. 
 
 Is it some rover of the deep 
 
 O'erwhelmed by tempests' blast, 
 Lies stranded on some lonely steep 
 Beneath the waves, that surging, keep 
 Her lone bell swinging fast ? 
 
 Perchance within the coral glades, 
 
 Where rose and amber twine, 
 The sea-god hath his altar made, 
 And calls his realm, as daylight fades, 
 
 To worship at his shrine. 
 
 Mayhap within some chambered shell, 
 
 The sea-nymph tolls its lay, 
 So very like some chiming bell, 
 Swung by the ocean's ceaseless swell, 
 
 That steals my sense away. 
 
58 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 The sweet vibrations come and go, 
 So true and real they seem, 
 
 As ocean tides that ebb and flow; 
 
 Yet in my conscious heart I know, 
 It must be all a dream. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 59 
 
 BURIAL AT SEA. 
 
 ? ''TWAS sunrise, and the ocean waves 
 1 Slept calmly on its heaving breast; 
 
 The gentle zephyr's weary wings 
 Were folded, like a dove at rest. 
 
 Enshrouded for an ocean grave, 
 
 Upon the deck a shipmate lay; 
 The living spark had ceased to burn; 
 
 The spirit's home was far away. 
 
 Each swaying mast and sail and spar, 
 A sign of conscious sorrow wore, 
 
 And in soft tones their requiem sang, 
 As if the seraphs hovered o'er. 
 
 How did our hearts with anguish throb, 
 As round his lifeless form we stood, 
 
 And took our last and farewell look, 
 While flowing tears our cheeks bedewed! 
 
 The flag, beneath whose stripes he'd sailed, 
 And known its true protecting care, 
 
 Now honored, in its fond embrace, 
 The lifeless form reposing there. 
 
 Our captain, from his Holy Book, 
 
 Read of a new and better life, 
 And bade us each, in faith to look 
 
 Beyond a world of ceaseless strife. 
 
60 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 We launched him o'er the vessel's side, 
 The sea received him as its own; 
 
 The conscious waves closed o'er his head, 
 As down from sight he sank alone! 
 
 He sleeps in Ocean's cold embrace, 
 Whose waves, in life, he loved so well, 
 
 With naught to mark his resting place, 
 Nor voice, save its incessant swell. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 6x 
 
 THE WIND GOD. 
 
 A NORSELAND MYTH. 
 
 THE Wind God hath, so the Norsemen say, 
 His home in the far Northwest; 
 And he ruleth his realm in a royal way, 
 
 By a nod of his royal crest. 
 His winged coursers, in trappings of light, 
 
 More fleet than meteors are; 
 While fleecy chariots of gossamer white, 
 Attend when his courts unbar. 
 
 Whenever he waveth his magical staff, 
 
 To signal his elfin band, 
 The air resounds with the wanton laugh 
 
 Of sprites from the fairy-land! 
 Forth from their homes in the cavernous glens, 
 
 And the gorges bewildered and deep; 
 Out from the marshes and luminous fens, 
 
 The hosts of his retinue sweep. 
 
 Some rein in their hands the airy steeds, 
 
 That rush in their fury along; 
 Some tune their soft harps for the moment of need, 
 
 And croon their invisible song, 
 The trees of the forest, the grass of the plain, 
 
 The reeds in their watery bed, 
 Are swayed by the touch of the on-sweeping train, 
 
 While the god rides in state overhead! 
 
62 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 They near a low hut, where in anguish and pain, 
 
 On the verge of mortality's sea, 
 A spirit, like a bird imprisoned, would fain 
 
 Escape from its toils and be free! 
 Soft music floats in on its languishing ebb, 
 
 Like a wind-harp mournful and low; 
 Enchantment is weaving its magical web, 
 
 And the life current ceases to flow. 
 
 The spirit released, hath taken its flight 
 
 Through the casement opening wide; 
 It fled on a sunbeam's pathway of light, 
 
 To the fairy throng outside. 
 The god swooping down from his airy height, 
 
 Clasped it to his royal breast, 
 And bore it away, in his chariot white, 
 
 Away to his chambers of rest. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 63 
 
 MY MOTHER'S SONG. 
 
 • < T KNOW that my Redeemer lives, 
 
 1 What comfort this sweet sentence gives, 
 My mother often sung, 
 
 In soothing numbers soft and mild, 
 
 To me, when I, a fretful child 
 Unto her bosom clung. 
 
 I could not know the sense of pain, 
 That, mingled with the sweet refrain, 
 
 Her gentle spirit wrung. 
 I could not know the weight of care, 
 With which she breathed for me the prayer, 
 
 That trembled on her tongue. 
 
 That love-wrought cadence to my ears, 
 Comes floating down the stream of years, 
 
 In tones that seem divine! 
 My soul is lulled to calm repose, 
 As when of yore, at daylight's close, 
 
 She laid her face to mine. 
 
 And now beyond the mystic veil 
 Angelic voices never fail 
 
 That song of love to swell; 
 The heavenly chorus greets her ears, 
 In praise of Him, who thro' long years, 
 
 She loved and s«rved so well. 
 
64 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 FORGOTTEN, THOU WILT 
 NEVER BE. 
 
 WHAT wealth of meaning in these words! 
 What loving mem'ries round them cling! 
 How tenderly their music falls, 
 
 Upon the heart's responsive strings! 
 When life is lonely, cheerless, dark, 
 And friendships seem away to flee, 
 'Tis heaven that whispers in our ears, 
 "Forgotten, thou wilt never be." 
 
 When sundered in the world afar, 
 
 The music of the voice unheard, — 
 When hands forbidden each to grasp, 
 
 And lips to utter sign or word. 
 How sweet to know one faithful soul, 
 
 Of all we chance to know or see, 
 Still cherishes the tender thought, 
 
 "Forgotten, thou wilt never be." 
 
 When life, within the breast is faint, 
 
 And faith looks up with doubting eyes; 
 When peace doth plume its wings for flight, 
 
 Away from earth's imploring cries. 
 How priceless is that trusting friend, 
 
 Whose very soul is love's own plea! 
 From whom the blest assurance comes, 
 
 "Forgotten, thou wilt never be." 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 65 
 
 PARTED FRIENDS. 
 
 AS hope, with its alluring dreams, 
 Incites the soul with strong desires; 
 So friends, long parted dearer deem 
 The joys which trustful love inspires. 
 
 As cherished treasures often prove 
 The tend 'rest objects we may know; 
 
 So friendship's steadfast flame of love, 
 In distant hearts may brighter glow. 
 
 As flowers that in seclusion hide, 
 Oft breathe a sweeter fragrance there; 
 
 So, dearest friends, tho' sundered wide, 
 More sacred keep the love they bear. 
 
66 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 SPIRIT AT REST. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 MY DAUGHTER DIED SEPTEMBER 29, 1S77— AGED 
 20 YEARS. 
 
 SPIRIT at Rest," 
 Rest from life's weary cares, 
 Rest from the ills it bears, 
 Rest from the gloom it wears, 
 Forever rest! 
 
 "Spirit at Rest," 
 Rest from all pains and woes, 
 Rest from all sorrow throes, 
 Rest from all unrepose, 
 
 Forever rest! 
 
 " Spirit at Rest," 
 Rest from all griefs and tears, 
 Rest from all doubts and fears, 
 Rest from thy darkened years, 
 
 Forever rest! 
 
 "Spirit at Rest," 
 Rest as a nestling dove, 
 Rest in the arms of love, 
 Rest in thy home above, 
 
 Forever rest! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 67 
 
 A SUMMER GREETING. 
 
 I LOVE the clear blue summer skies, 
 That look down so benignly; 
 The earth returns with grateful eyes, 
 The greeting most divinely. 
 
 I love the coming of the dawn; 
 
 It tells of joy and gladness; 
 It laughs the cares of earth to scorn, 
 
 And dissipates its sadness. 
 
 I love to see the shafts of light, 
 
 Across the hill-tops gleaming; 
 They blaze upon the mountain's height, 
 
 Like beacon watch-fires seeming. 
 
 I love to see the jeweled stars, 
 That sparkle on the meadows, 
 
 Like diamonds, when Aurora's car 
 Pursues night's fleeing shadows. 
 
 I love the grand old forest trees, 
 Costumed in princely splendor, 
 
 And 'mong their branches hear the breeze, 
 Such gentle music render. 
 
 I love to hear the whispering leaves, 
 Their loves to each confiding, 
 
 While warp and woof of sunbeams weave 
 The veil their blushes hiding. 
 
68 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 I love to sit beneath their shade, 
 The friendly zephyrs moving, 
 
 As they come trooping through the glades, 
 The flying hours pursuing. 
 
 I love to hear the feathered throng, 
 Pour out their glad hearts o'er us; 
 
 All earth rejoices in the song, 
 While heaven takes up the chorus. 
 
 I love the gently rippling rills, 
 That wander 'mong the grasses, 
 
 Or leaping gaily down the hills, 
 Through steep and narrow passes. 
 
 I love the grand majestic sweep 
 That marks the river's motion, 
 
 Whose bosom bears the whitened fleet, 
 Towards the friendly ocean. 
 
 These pages from great Nature's book 
 
 Set all my pulses beating; 
 For in its author's face I look, 
 
 And feel love's kindly greeting. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PEOMS. 69 
 
 AT MY DAUGHTER'S MARRIAGE. 
 
 MAY 18, 1885. 
 
 WHEN spring in its freshness, o'er the land 
 brightly gleams, 
 Fond love's light awakens the soul's secret dreams, 
 And in the deep yearnings which nature provides, 
 The birds, by their sweet intuitions decide. 
 So now, my dear children, in life's blooming spring, 
 The sweet buds of promise and beauty doth fling 
 Their fragrance divine o'er your lives, like a veil 
 Of enchantment, and around you exhale 
 The blest consecration of faith and of love; 
 May the union, so holy, be recorded above! 
 'Tis not the mere words that unite kindred hearts; 
 That faith is but shadow, that no love imparts; 
 Affection is not a mere child of the earth; 
 A meaningless thing — ignoble in birth; 
 But near the white throne, in flames supernal, 
 That glow in the heart of the great Eternal, 
 Are finished the chains that on earth are begun, 
 Whose mystical touches make two into one. 
 
 May happiness ever beam constant and clear, 
 That now in such rays of sweet vision appear; 
 Remember, earth's pillows are not always roses, 
 Upon which the head confiding reposes; — 
 That all is not gold that gives lustre and brightness; 
 That seemingly substance is often but lightness. 
 To all that is pure and noble and true, 
 Your lives' best efforts are unreservedly due; 
 Tho' sometimes, and this is but our common lot, 
 The way may seem dim and life seem a blot; 
 
;t> AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 Dark clouds of adversity sometimes arise, 
 That only are blessings dressed up in disguise; 
 Remember no cloud but its darkness doth hide, 
 The brightness that shines on its silvery side. 
 My blessing goes with you wherever you are; 
 My love be your portion, I can give you no more; 
 My home may seem lonely, but this be my prayer; 
 May God bless you always in basket and store, 
 And give to you ever, contentment and peace, 
 And his blessed presence, till life's duties cease. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 71 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 A GENIAL warmth pervades my room; 
 Outside, the cold winds blow; 
 Alone, beside the open grate, 
 
 I watch the embers glow. 
 The dear loved faces on the wall 
 
 Preserve their wonted smile; 
 Their asking lips and speaking eyes, 
 My lonely heart beguile. 
 
 Absorbed in deepest reverie, 
 
 That soothes my waking sense; 
 Beyond the shadowy land of dreams 
 
 My spirit wanders hence. 
 A swelling chorus greets my ear, 
 
 Of grandest harmony, 
 Whose measured numbers rise and fall, 
 
 As murmurs from the sea. 
 
 Old Homer from the classic shores 
 
 Pours forth heroic strains; 
 And Virgil sings, in pleasant tones, 
 
 His pastoral refrains. 
 John Dryden's quaint and homely rhyme, 
 
 And Milton's sacred fire, 
 While Avon's bard with matchless skill 
 
 Attunes his deathless lyre. 
 
 The noble strains of Byron's verse; 
 
 The minor tones of Grey; 
 The lofty flight of Shelley's lark, 
 
 And Scott's rich minstrelsy; 
 
72 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 Montgomery, with reverent tread, 
 And Moore's soft flowing tune, 
 
 And Scotland's shepherd sweetly sings 
 Of love and Bonnie Doon! 
 
 The treble voice of Browning blends 
 
 With H emeus' gentler song, 
 And multitudes of voices swell 
 
 The chorus loud and long, 
 Across the borders of that land 
 
 Their mighty numbers sweep; 
 They steal upon my ravished dream, 
 
 And charm me while I sleep. 
 
 Eternity of years will ring 
 
 With harmonies untold! 
 And added hosts will hither bring 
 
 Their harps and lyres of gold, 
 But here, we barely step within 
 
 The vestibule of song; 
 We ne'er shall know the perfect chords, 
 
 Until we join that throng. 
 1884. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 73 
 
 FREEDOM'S TRIUMPH. 
 
 READ ON MEMORIAL DAY, 1887. 
 
 LONG years ago, when thrones and civil creeds 
 Of empires vast and old 
 Were synonyms of selfishness and greed, 
 
 Of hates and crimes untold, 
 There burst upon the unwakened world 
 
 A single gleam of light, 
 Whose brightness glimmered like a beacon fire, 
 Upon a starless night. 
 
 Astonished nations from afar, beheld 
 
 The portent in the sky; 
 And to their wondering vision, it proclaimed 
 
 A fearful struggle nigh. 
 Men saw the kindled flames of Freedom rise, 
 
 Fanned by the hand of God, 
 Which lighted up the pathway to the skies 
 
 That patriot feet had trod. 
 
 O'er lowly vales and sun-kissed mountain peaks, 
 
 A thrilling echo sped; 
 It smote upon the slumbering fears of men, 
 
 Like voices from the dead. 
 With eager, listening ear, and anxious eye, 
 
 And half unconscious breath, 
 They heard ring out th' immortal patriot-cry, 
 
 " Give me Liberty or Death! " 
 
74 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 They heard the joyous clang of ringing bells 
 
 Peal forth in rythmic time, 
 And " Liberty throughout the goodly land," 
 
 Proclaimed the stirring chime! 
 The living tongues that spoke these thrilling words, 
 
 Have long to rest been set, 
 But their divinely mortal utterings 
 
 Thank God! are ringing yet! 
 
 That ancient flame lit up our troubled sky, 
 
 Again in later years, 
 When war's dread scourge filled many loyal hearts 
 
 With anxious doubts and fears. 
 A stricken nation saw the wondrous sight, 
 
 And stood with bated breath; 
 The mystic current ceased its wonted flow, 
 
 And hearts grew still as death. 
 
 A shout arose that clove the vaulted sky, 
 
 And pierced the firmament; 
 A ringing shout of glad, exultant joy, 
 
 From hearts redeemed was sent. 
 Four-million happy voices raised on high 
 
 Their song of jubilee, 
 And Freedom's glory clothed the stricken land 
 
 With light from sea to sea. 
 
 The chains that had so long the bondmen held 
 
 Through all the laggard years, 
 And had the fettered millions scourged, 
 
 Unmoved by Pity's tears, 
 At once were severed, as by lightning stroke, 
 
 And he whose limbs they galled, 
 Walked proudly forth, complete in manhood's prime, 
 
 Erect and disenthralled! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 75 
 
 All honor to that noble hearted chief, 
 
 Whose pen the fetters broke! 
 All honor to that loyal patriot host. 
 
 Whose swords sustained the stroke! 
 The proudest monument that man can place 
 
 On martyred Lincoln's grave, 
 Is shackles, which his magic word and touch 
 
 Hath stricken from the slave. 
 
 The rifted clouds revealed a crimson morn, 
 
 Beneath a stormy sky, 
 And Freedom lifted over all the land 
 
 Her bow of promise high. 
 To-day the Nation lives in Freedom's strength, 
 
 With Freedom's blessings crowned; 
 With consciousness of an eternal right, 
 
 We tread on Freedom's ground! 
 
 To-day the Nation wears her sable robes, 
 
 And tears fall unsuppressed 
 Upon the grassy, consecrated mounds 
 
 Where Freedom's martyrs rest, 
 Their graves are here; we deck them with bright 
 flowers, 
 
 We reverently kneel, 
 And touch the garment God hath bid them wear, 
 
 Whose hem the nations heal. 
 
 They are not dead; and they can never die! 
 
 Upon the Nation's heart, 
 Engraved with pen of steel, their deeds will stand 
 
 To teach a grander part 
 Than victories on sanguinary fields; 
 
 Momentous duties, higher, 
 Greater, and nobler for the Nation's weal, 
 
 Their matchless deeds inspire. 
 
76 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 Eternal truths inscribed on hist'ry's page 
 
 Perpetuate their fame; 
 Their blood upon their country's altar poured 
 
 Feeds freedom's deathless flame. 
 To save a state, when torn by traitor hands, 
 
 Is work that shall endure; 
 Be ours the task to supplement that work, 
 
 And keep the Nation pure. 
 
 O my country! Be thine a nobler care 
 
 Than all thy garnered stores, 
 Thy teeming harvests, or thy mines of gold, 
 
 Or commerce of thy shores! 
 Be it thy pride forever to uplift 
 
 The manhood of the poor, 
 And be to all the lowly and oppressed, 
 
 Fair freedom's open door! 
 
 O my country! I love thine honored name! 
 
 Grand mem'ries round thee twine! 
 The guiding star that led thy conquering hosts, 
 
 Now shines with light divine. 
 Forever wear on thine imperial brow, 
 
 Blest freedom's diadem, 
 With righteousness the forehead jewel bright, 
 
 And peace the crowning gem! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 77 
 
 ARE ALL THE CHILDREN IN? 
 
 AN aged mother's useful life 
 Was drawing near its close; 
 Upon her dying bed she lay, 
 
 As in a calm repose. 
 As memories came thronging back, 
 
 Her mother heart within, 
 She whispered with her parting breath, 
 " Are all the children in ? " 
 
 Ah yes! dear soul; long years before, 
 
 When shadows round thee fell, 
 When life to thee held treasures dear, 
 
 Thou heard the solemn knell 
 That tolled for loved ones gone before 
 
 A blessed peace to win, 
 Her yearning heart recalled once more, 
 
 " Are all the children in? " 
 
 She sees the Master waiting stand 
 
 Beside the gates ajar; 
 She hears the melodies of heaven 
 
 Come ringing from afar. 
 She heeds the angel's beckoning hand, 
 
 And questions once again, 
 Tell me, ye guardians at the gate, 
 
 " Are all the children in ? " 
 
78 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 A PERFECT DAY. 
 
 SERENEST of these Autumn days! 
 Like breath of tropic isles, 
 So pure and holy is its calm, 
 That all the atmosphere is balm, 
 And all the landscape, smiles. 
 
 The gentle zephyr's transports come, 
 
 With perfume laden sails, 
 And Heaven's benedictions bear 
 To field and woods, that once more wear 
 
 The Summer's queenly veils. 
 
 With eyes uplifted unto one 
 
 Serene, unclouded sky, 
 Where faith and sense together meet, 
 The Father's gracious smiles we greet, 
 
 And feel His presence nigh. 
 
 So may our life's autumnal days 
 
 Grow brighter at the last; 
 And give to toiling spirits cheer, 
 As summer memories reappear 
 
 Sweet visions of the past. 
 
 Like wayside inns where tired souls 
 
 Can find a brief retreat, 
 So these mild, peaceful days are sent, 
 As trysting places with content, 
 
 And rest for weary feet. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 79 
 
 A CHEERFUL OLD AGE. 
 
 '* For him in vain the envious seasons roll, 
 Who hath eternal summer in his soul. " 
 
 —Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 
 SERENLY bright is that well-rounded life, 
 That all the years before 
 Hath kept the beauty of its early flowers 
 
 Still blooming at fourscore; 
 The cheerful heart no adverse tempest heeds, 
 
 Nor snows along the way; 
 Nor murky clouds across the tranquil sky 
 Can make a joyless day. 
 
 Thus ever with the trusting heart, whose hand, 
 
 Like Jordan's spirit dove, 
 Rests down upon the Master's head to feel 
 
 The sunshine of His love; 
 The summer gardens yield their sweetest flowers 
 
 To blossom at his feet; 
 The perfumed zephyrs, as from heavenly bowers, 
 
 His happy footsteps greet. 
 
 So, while the cheerful spirit feels the calm. 
 
 Sweet fervor of His grace, 
 And looks with humble, trusting confidence 
 
 Into the Master's face, 
 Adversity is powerless to cloud 
 
 The brightness of his sky, 
 Or quench the fragrance of the wayside flowers 
 
 That greet his passing by. 
 
80 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 THE REWARD OF WELL DOING. 
 
 FIDELl'CERTA MERCES. (LAT.) 
 
 IN every busy walk of life, 
 If golden peace prevails or strife, 
 Whate'er the lot, 
 'Tis he, who cheerfully doth bear 
 The conflicts and the shocks, his share, 
 
 And flinches not, 
 Who wins the world's sincere applause, 
 That's ne'er forgot ! 
 
 We love to grasp his manly hand, 
 Who danger meets, and leads the van 
 
 In every race! 
 Nor falters when life is at stake, 
 Nor shrinks to fight for virtue's sake; 
 
 To e'er embrace 
 The cause that stands for right and truth 
 
 In every place. 
 
 Fame's highest niche in temples old, 
 The noblest names and greatest, hold, 
 
 The world e'er knew! 
 And by whose record all may read 
 The worth of each unselfish deed, 
 
 To virtue true ! 
 And know the blest reward of those 
 
 Who right pursue. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 81 
 
 HIDDEN TEACHINGS. 
 
 AN open book before me lies, 
 Whose subtle teachings I would prize, 
 Could I but know 
 The hidden depths from whence they rise, 
 The channels where they flow. 
 
 I see a page of spotless mein, 
 O'erlaid with drifts of crystal sheen, 
 
 So pure and white, 
 That Peace seems brooding o'er the scene, 
 
 And silence reigns in light. 
 
 I see a page with verdure dressed; 
 Buds bursting forth at Spring's behest, 
 
 And gentle showers, 
 That lave the landscape's thirsty breast, 
 
 To haste the vernal flowers. 
 
 I see a page all blossom crowned, 
 With roses scattered o'er the ground, 
 
 Profusely fair! 
 And summer garlands wreathed around, 
 
 Like robes of queenly wear. 
 
 I see a page of somber hue! 
 
 It thrills my soul with wonders new; 
 
 So passing strange 
 The scene, the artist's pencil drew, 
 
 I marvel at the change. 
 
82 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 I said, ' ' Thou volume of the year, 
 I fain would solve the secret here, 
 
 Thy spirit weaves;" 
 "Then read," it whispered in my ear, 
 
 " While Autumn turns the leaves. 
 
 I would the soft command obey; 
 The open book before me lay; 
 
 But as I read 
 These mystic symbols of decay, 
 
 The leaves were sere and dead ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 83 
 
 JUNE. 
 
 HAIL, lovely Queen ! In regal state 
 Thou sittest on thy throne, 
 In all thy matchless beauty robed, 
 
 In majesty thine own ! 
 Among the ever moving train 
 
 Thou hast the foremost place, 
 And loveliest been since blushing earth, 
 First saw its maker's face. 
 
 I hear thy whispers in the trees, 
 
 So faint and yet so clear; 
 I catch the freshness of the breeze, 
 
 And know that thou art here; 
 The unseen fragrance of thy flowers 
 
 Is wafted to my sense, 
 And, standing with uncovered head 
 
 I own the recompense. 
 
 Serenely o'er thy queenly brow 
 
 I see thine incense rise, 
 And shower its benedictions down 
 
 From thy o'er-burdened skies. 
 Thus every nerve of mind and sense 
 
 To beauty is attune 
 While summer bows her princely head 
 
 To kiss the robe of June. 
 
84 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 THE BRETON MARINER'S PRAYER. 
 
 THE smiling skies looked kindly down 
 Upon the tranquil sea; 
 The blue above, the blue below, 
 
 In love-like harmony. 
 All boundless seemed the unruffled deep; 
 
 Beyond, no land in sight! 
 In majesty the great sea lay 
 Reposing in its might. 
 
 The Breton, wrapped in rev'rant thought, 
 
 Stood his good barque beside; 
 The sails were set, the cable loosed, 
 
 And favoring the tide. 
 To heaven he raised his trembling eyes, 
 
 And meekly, humbly cried, 
 " Keep me, O God, my boat is small, 
 
 Thine ocean is so wide." 
 
 Go, trusting heart nor fear the storm, 
 
 To do thy vessel harm, 
 The God, whose frown is in the gale 
 
 Smiles also in the calm. 
 So though His ocean is so wide, 
 
 And thy frail barque so small, 
 'Tis safe to trust the guiding hand 
 
 That overruleth all. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 85 
 
 CHAUTAUQUAN ODE. 
 
 ASSEMBLED at this eventide, 
 Our grateful spirits rise, 
 All richly freighted with a load 
 
 Of pleasant memories. 
 The helpful words of love and cheer; 
 
 The goodly lessons read; 
 The friendly graspings of the hand; 
 The kindly greetings said. 
 
 Together, a united band, 
 
 Along the paths we've strolled, 
 Where rarest flowers in beauty grew, 
 
 In fields both new and old 
 At every step, we've culled the gems, 
 
 From each historic page; 
 And living truths have gathered from, 
 
 The poet and the sage. 
 
 Responsive unto every need, 
 
 Our watchful eyes hath seen, 
 And fruitul hath, for greater good, 
 
 Our earnest labors been. 
 For these, this night, Thou Power divine, 
 
 Accept our hymn of praise, 
 And help us to be wholly Thine, 
 
 The remnant of our days. 
 
86 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 TO SAINT VALENTINE. 
 
 MY dear old Saint, I thee implore 
 To kindly pass my errors o'er, 
 And grant that in thy loving heart, 
 Forgiveness thou to me impart. 
 One only boon from thee I crave, 
 The best that e'er immortals gave; 
 That I may at thy holy shrine, 
 Choose Mary for my Valentine! 
 And may her kind, confiding heart, 
 Transfixed by love's unerring dart, 
 Receive the message so divine, 
 That I'll be hers and she'll be mine, 
 And live to bless Saint Valentine. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 87 
 
 THE DUTY OF TO-DAY. 
 
 "When a friend asks, there is no to-morrow" — 
 
 Geo. Herbert, 1640. 
 
 IF ever on life's journey, 
 In sunshine or in shade, 
 The troubled heart is yearning 
 For sympathy and aid; 
 Stern duty's call admits of no delay, 
 For bleeding wounds are better healed to-day. 
 
 If all the blest fruitions 
 
 That grow on friendship's vine, 
 Were only intuitions 
 That round the future twine; 
 There could be no sweet balm to sooth and cure 
 The aching pains that souls to-day endure. 
 
 No time is like the present: 
 And friends are dearest, best, 
 Who pour the wine of healing 
 At mercy's mild behest: 
 There can be no to-morrow for the needs 
 Of him, whose heart to-day with anguish bleeds. 
 
 Then, always to be ready 
 
 To answer sorrow's cries, 
 Is the sublimest duty 
 That friendship's hand supplies. 
 The new-blown rose is sweeter, plucked to-day ! 
 To-morrow's sun may take its life away. 
 
88 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 THE REUNION. 
 
 "Companionship in toil and sorrow 
 Makes every man a brother." 
 
 — Ebenezer Elliott. 
 
 FEW ties so strong in life's brief round 
 As those which hardships form, 
 Where dangers, strifes, and cares abound, 
 
 In sunshine or in storm. 
 Whether upon the restless sea, 
 
 Exiled from home and friends, 
 Amid the drear monotony 
 The sailor's life attends; 
 
 Or out in unexplored fields, 
 
 In golden treasure's quest, 
 The miner's toil its harvest yields 
 
 Of perils and unrest; 
 The lonely life, the homely fare, 
 
 Privations hard and keen, 
 The draughts of stern endurance are 
 
 Drank from the same canteen. 
 
 And so upon the battle plain, 
 
 In camp or in the fray, 
 The soldier feels the friendly chain; 
 
 Grow stronger day by day, 
 The bonds of true companionship 
 
 The shoulder touch hath made; 
 The countersign on every lip, 
 
 The soldier's accolade. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 89 
 
 And so 'tis meet that those who shared 
 
 Discomforts in the camp, 
 The perils of the battle dared, 
 
 The long and weary tramp, 
 Should come and grasp again the hand, 
 
 And with each other strive 
 To light once more the council brand, 
 
 And keep its fires alive. 
 
 To tell the stories of the strife 
 
 In peaceful bivouac, 
 And share the goodly things of life, 
 
 With brimful haversack; 
 To hear again the bugle blast, 
 
 And into column fall, 
 And march once more, before the last 
 
 And final trump shall call. 
 
 A remnant only now remains 
 
 Of all the true and tried, 
 Who bowed before their country's fanes, 
 
 Then marched on side by side. 
 Each year the roll-call will grow less, 
 
 Shorter the homeward route, 
 And fewer feet its pathway press, 
 
 Till all are mustered out. 
 
9 o AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 "GOOD-BYE, PAPA." 
 
 "As the last person was leaving the open grave at the burial 
 of the late James C. Archie, in River Bend Cemetery, his little 
 child, looking down, exclaimed, 'Good-bye, Papa.' " 
 
 — Narragansett Weekly. 
 
 D 
 
 EAR child, beyond the dark, mysterious veil, 
 
 Thy loving father heard 
 That simple token of thy filial love; 
 And angel hands, in living light above, 
 
 Will write that parting word. 
 
 Think not, because his form you can not see, 
 
 Nor feel his fond embrace, 
 Nor listen to his tender words of cheer, 
 And watch affection's loving wreaths appear 
 
 Upon his smiling face, 
 
 That he is far away from home and thee, 
 
 And all he held most dear, 
 For in thy lifelong journey, day by day, 
 In sorrow's fitful hour, or childish play, 
 
 His spirit hovers near. 
 
 It holds communion with thee in thy dreams, 
 Which makes thy heart rejoice; 
 In every aspiration of thy youth, 
 In all thy yearnings after love and truth, 
 Is heard thy father's voice. 
 
 And when the sunset of thy day shall come, 
 
 With its bright gates ajar, 
 Then thou shalt see his waiting spirit stand, 
 And greeting give thee, with a welcome hand, 
 
 Beside the evening star. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 91 
 
 BETHLEHEM'S STAR. 
 
 THE star that rose o'er Bethlehem's fertile plains, 
 Where shepherds watched by night — 
 The sudden burst of grand, majestic strains 
 
 From Heaven's empyreal height 
 Proclaimed the tidings of good will to men, 
 
 And peace to all on earth; 
 And ushered in the glorious morning, when 
 Incarnate Love had birth. 
 
 No royal palace, with its lofty walls, 
 
 Not downy bed of rest, 
 Not kings nor princes, in their gilded halls, 
 
 Received the heavenly Guest; 
 But to the lowly manger's mean retreat, 
 
 Was Heaven's high accord; 
 For angels came and worshiped at the feet 
 
 Of Him, their infant Lord. 
 
 More lustrous now appears that holy light; 
 
 That song hath sweeter sound; 
 And burdened hearts enwrapped in Sorrow's night, 
 
 The promised Peace have found; 
 To-day the guiding star of sacred Love 
 
 Beams on our devious ways, 
 And from the bright seraphic choirs above 
 
 Are heard the psalms of praise. 
 
92 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 YGGDRASILL. 
 
 a 
 
 A SCANDINAVIAN MYTH. 
 
 ,VER the well of Time 
 Stands this wonderful tree: 
 It branches the worlds o'erspread! 
 Above the heavens it rears its head; 
 As if in vengeful glee 
 The fretful winds blow free, 
 And blasts its buds and leaves with wintry rime. 
 
 Above its topmost boughs, 
 A mighty eagle soars, 
 A symbol of o'erruling power, 
 Whose keen eyes watch each vagrant Hour; 
 And mark where Discord pours 
 Its blighting breath; with stores 
 Of heavenly wisdom, gods and men endow. 
 
 Into the depths below, 
 From whence its life ascends, 
 To regions where immortals sway 
 Their sceptre over Night and Day, 
 Its triple roots descend. 
 There sparkling fountains lend 
 Their humid tides, that through its branches flow. 
 
 From Ymir's self it grows, 
 He the Frost giant, great! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PEOMS. 93 
 
 He, from whose body slain, the Earth, 
 Blue Heavens, and murky clouds hath birth! 
 
 Near Odin's hall of state, 
 
 By Asgard's palace gate, 
 Among the gods, he sleeps in grim repose 
 
 Near to this Well of Time, 
 Stands Wisdom's sacred shrine, 
 Where fairest Norns, in queenly state, 
 Dispense the mystic runes of fate. 
 On beaming altars shine 
 The mysteries divine, 
 That Odin's priests intone in Skaldic rhyme. 
 
94 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 THE COMING STORM. 
 
 I STAND in the gloom of the gathering storm 
 And watch the clouds go by; 
 I hear in the trees the coming breeze, 
 
 Like a troubled spirit's sigh. 
 I follow the birds in their timorous flight, 
 
 And list their querulous notes,— 
 Their accents of fear, on the tempest near, 
 In broken melody floats. 
 
 The silvery sweep of the river below, 
 
 Is ruffled with conscious dread, 
 Far down in its deeps the storm shadow creeps, 
 
 And frowns in its dusky bed. 
 Beyond, like shadowy phantoms in air, 
 
 The circling hills I trace, 
 For the coming gale hath thrown its veil 
 
 Of mist o'er their comely face. 
 
 There comes to my sense on the rarified air, 
 
 A steady and rhythmic moan: 
 It sounds like the dirge that's sung by the surge, 
 
 When wrecks on the shore are thrown. 
 It comes like the spell of a wizard's charm, 
 
 And my beating heart is stayed, 
 For its moauings foretell, in that ominous spell, 
 
 The force of the storm delayed. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 95 
 
 Awe-stricken I stand and with breath subdued 
 
 Await the coming blast, 
 The gathering clouds, with thunderings loud, 
 
 Are flying low and fast. 
 Be still, O fearing heart, be still! 
 
 And cease thy strange unrest! 
 For He, who guides the winds and tides 
 
 Knows what for thee is best. 
 
96 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 TO THE OLD YEAR. 
 
 GOOD-BYE, Old Year! Give us thy hand! 
 We've been good friends these many days ! 
 Thro' storm and sunshine, cold and heat, 
 We've kept the tenor of our ways. 
 
 We mind us, when thou wast a child 
 We saw thy smiling golden dawn! 
 
 How cheery was the welcome then, 
 We gave thee on that happy morn! 
 
 With open arms and spirits light, 
 We met thy brightly beaming face; 
 
 We placed our hands confidingly 
 Within thine own, with tender grace. 
 
 We've walked together hand in hand, 
 And close companions ever been; 
 
 We've trod the down incline of life, 
 Where visions of the end begin. 
 
 Old friend, we now bid thee adieu! 
 
 Thy work is well and nobly done! 
 And thou hast loved and kept us too, 
 
 From devious paths by thorns o'errun. 
 
 If sorrow hath beside us strode, 
 
 Like evil purpose, us to guide, 
 Its every touch, howe'er it burned, 
 
 Thy love hath more than sanctified. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 97 
 
 Alas the unknown multitude 
 
 Who greeted thy bright morning rays, ^ 
 
 But lived not in thy kindly care, 
 
 To see the fullness of thy days! 
 
 Farewell! Thou hast a tender place 
 Within our hearts, a precious store 
 
 Of pleasant mem'ries there enshrined! 
 Farewell, old friend, forevermore! 
 
98 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 LIFE'S TOILERS. 
 
 LIKE ships upon the ocean wide, 
 The brief years come and go; 
 Now, bearing seaward on its tide 
 
 The buoyant hopes that flow 
 From hearts just launched upon the deep, 
 
 With pleasant skies and bright! 
 And gentle gales of love, to keep, 
 And trust, to guide aright. 
 
 Now bearing homeward ample stores, 
 
 Reward of toilsome years; 
 The gathered fruitage of a voyage, 
 
 Whose end almost appears 
 Outlined upon the western sky, 
 
 As shadows longer grow, — 
 And headlands of the harbor rise, 
 
 Beyond the sunset's glow. 
 
 And so the toilers on life's sea, 
 
 Forever go and come; 
 The outward bound, with spirits free, 
 
 Greet those returning home. 
 Unceasing toil awaits the first, 
 
 In golden fortune's quest; 
 Returning, seek the haven bright, 
 
 Where weary toilers rest. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 99 
 
 THE RIFT IN THE CLOUD. 
 
 A RADIANCE most holy, 
 Upon my spirit falls: 
 A beam of sun-bright glory, 
 
 Breaks thro' the cloudy pall, 
 That long hath cast its shadow 
 
 Upon my life's bright day; 
 I welcome in its beauty 
 The light along my way. 
 
 So long my song of sorrow 
 
 Hath sounded in mine ear; 
 So long the blest to-morrow 
 
 I sought did not appear, 
 That in my lonely musings 
 
 In gloom and shade obscured, 
 I came to feel the anguish 
 
 Must be for aye endured. 
 
 But through the rifted curtain 
 
 Came love's benignant beam, 
 And my sad song of sorrow 
 
 Evanished, like a dream, 
 O welcome, welcome radiance! 
 
 Effulgent light divine! 
 Into my heart forever 
 
 In all thy brightness shine. 
 
AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 UNSATISFIED. 
 
 THE last libation from my cup of dole 
 At my worn feet is poured: 
 Upon the altar lies my weary soul, 
 
 With all its secrets stored! 
 O would there was some kind and friendly hand, 
 
 In patient ways to guide, 
 To help me bear the tortures of the brand, 
 By which my soul is tried. 
 
 The glittering summit, that in youth I viewed, 
 
 So peerless, bright and fair, 
 That high before my longing vision stood, 
 
 All crowned with jewels rare, 
 Still seems as far beyond my utmost reach, 
 
 As when my life began; 
 Still unattainable as angel speech, 
 
 Or heaven's prismatic span. 
 
 Tis ever thus, O weary heart, I cried, 
 
 A something curbs our powers; 
 Whate'er we do, we're still unsatisfied; 
 
 An aching void is ours. 
 This toilsome, careworn life is all too brief, 
 
 For hopes to be fulfilled; 
 The cup that overflows with bitter grief 
 
 Is from lost hopes distilled. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 101 
 
 THE DYING DAY. 
 
 THIS summer day is dying! Pulseless seems 
 Great nature's throbbing heart. The hour 
 So still, that in the golden sunset's gleams, 
 Enchantment broods o'er field and flower! 
 
 A somber pall is falling on the slope 
 
 Of yonder hillside! and all around 
 That tells to human hearts of love and hope, 
 
 Is hushed in silence most profound. 
 
 The trees have ceased to wave their leafy arms; 
 
 Unheard are all their low refrains; 
 The whispering zephyrs, with their cooling charms, 
 
 Repose as blushing daylight wanes. 
 
 The tranquil river dreams in peaceful sleep, 
 
 Its fancies, portents of the night; 
 For in its depths, the fleecy cloudlets creep, 
 
 And star-gems drop their tears of light. 
 
 Unto my spirit comes a holy calm, 
 
 Like unseen odors round me shed; 
 As if a hand divine hath laid its palm, 
 
 In benedictions on my head. 
 
 Fainter yet the lessening light appears, 
 
 As night moves on its gloomy way! 
 The mourning skies dissolve in dewy tears, 
 
 And darkness shrouds the lifeless day. 
 
102 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 And so methinks, our own brief day may end, 
 When darkness shades our mortal eye; 
 
 So may, in love, the weeping heavens bend 
 In peaceful watchings where we lie. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 103 
 
 TO MY VIOLIN. 
 
 A HOST of pleasant memories come thronging 
 thick and fast, 
 As half a century of years roll upward from the 
 
 past; 
 A chain of bright companionships, enwrought with 
 
 goodly cheer, 
 That bind thee closer to my heart to make thee 
 doubly dear. 
 
 Upon the cheerless solitude of ocean's trackless 
 
 waste, 
 The drear monotony of life thy music oft effaced; 
 When to thy thrilling measures, with lightsome 
 
 step and free, 
 Forgotten was the dull routine in hours of merry 
 
 glee. 
 
 Thy well-worn strings recall once more the old 
 
 familiar airs 
 So dear to every genial soul whose inner chamber 
 
 wears 
 The festive garbs their strains inspired, mementoes 
 
 of old days, 
 The strains that from thy bosom leaped to cheer 
 
 life's dreamy maze. 
 
 Melodious voices oft with thee rehearsed the dear 
 
 old songs, 
 That never can forgotten be while life to earth 
 
 belongs; 
 
104 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 They lie embalmed within my heart, rich treasures 
 
 of the past, 
 A heritage of earthly joys, that age can not outlast. 
 
 Those grand old tunes so fondly loved, around thee 
 linger yet; 
 
 The music of thy sounding strings is to their move- 
 ments set; 
 
 Though age doth bring to other things the omens 
 of decay, 
 
 Thy voice is just as mellow now as in the olden 
 day. 
 
 When time with me shall be no more, and I lay 
 
 thee aside, 
 Some master hand may wake the chords that in 
 
 thy bosom hide; 
 Then purer, sweeter grow thy tones as age creeps 
 
 on apace, 
 And all the old-time melodies will wear a brighter 
 
 face. 
 
 Thou source of youthful pleasures gone — com- 
 panion of my prime! 
 
 Thou pastime of maturer years — inspirer of my 
 rhyme! 
 
 To that dear boy who bears my name, with all the 
 love I owe, 
 
 I leave the dear old instrument, when I lay down 
 its bow. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 105 
 
 THE MAGIC FURROW. 
 
 Among some Sclavonic tribes, it is believed that the cholera 
 can never cross a line made with a plow, drawn by virgin 
 hands at midnight. 
 
 WHAT means yon strange procession that I see, 
 Devoutly wending, silently and slow, 
 Its weary way across the open lea. 
 As if o'erburdened by a sense of woe ? 
 
 Six spotless maidens clad in raiments white! 
 
 They seem like angels, who, in hours of need, 
 Are sent to sinful earth, from realms of light, 
 
 Commissioned to perforin some righteous deed. 
 
 Three mourning widows walk with reverent tread, 
 In sable garbs of woe, the foremost place! 
 
 One bears aloft, with meek and bowed head, 
 The image of the Blessed Virgin's face. 
 
 The midnight dews are falling thick and fast! 
 
 The zephyrs slumber in their mistress' arms; 
 The starry sentinels, their lances cast, 
 
 As if to guard the maidens fair from harm. 
 
 But hark! a tremor in the quiet air 
 
 Breaks on mine ears, and to my sense appears 
 The sound of gentle music sweet and f-'ir, 
 
 Like vanished echoes from the distant spheres! 
 
106 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 I list again, and now the weird refrains 
 
 Burst from those widowed hearts with subtle 
 power; 
 
 The cadence of the holy Ave strains 
 
 Pervades the solemn stillness of the hour. 
 
 But, stranger still! a more mysterious sight 
 Appears before my wondering eyes, for now 
 
 I see, behind the group of maidens white, 
 Drawn by their soft and tender hands, a plow. 
 
 That in the mellow earth a furrow turns! 
 
 A single furrow, even, true and fair; 
 As peasants, in the spring for harvests yearn, 
 
 Prepare the fallow ground with hopeful care. 
 
 But why, I ask, do these frail maidens now 
 
 Thus labor so unwomanly at night ? 
 Why mark the lonely heath with rustic plow 
 
 While chanting strains of some mysterious rite ? 
 
 Are they inspired to do, in Heaven's name, 
 Some sacred mission, armed with holy zeal ? 
 
 Or is it duty's voice they hear proclaim 
 To acts of penance for their spirits' weal ? 
 
 A wail o'er all the stricken land is heard, 
 That Asia's scourge is spreading far and near; 
 
 Within the city's walls each heart is stirred, 
 And loved ones live in trembling and in fear. 
 
 And so its dreadful ravages to stay, 
 These faithful maidens in the Virgin's name, 
 
 Devote their strength in this unseemly way; 
 Love's holy service and reward to claim. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 107 
 
 For they, in very truth believe, that by 
 A simple line a common plow hath made 
 
 By virgins drawn, beneath a midnight sky; 
 The awful scourge will not their homes invade. 
 
 Thus, like a city walled about, secure 
 From fierce assaults by hostile bands outside, 
 
 This charmful circle proves a barrier sure 
 O'er which the deadly plague can never ride. 
 
io8 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 TO A LADY FRIEND'S PICTURE. 
 
 THE mirror of a trusting soul, 
 In that dear face I see; 
 Revealing, as with light divine, 
 A wealth of constancy. 
 
 I read the messages of love, 
 Those speaking eyes impart, 
 
 And fain their words of tenderness, 
 Would treasure in my heart. 
 
 I see beneath that lurking smile, 
 Though veiled in modest guise, 
 
 The cheer of friendship's steadfast light, 
 Warmed by affection's ties. 
 
 If those mute lips could only speak, 
 Though but one uttered word, 
 
 My waiting heart, by that sweet voice, 
 Would to its depths be stirred! 
 
 But O ! to press those lips to mine, 
 And feel the warm breath near, 
 
 Not touch of angel forms divine, 
 Would be to me more dear. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 109 
 
 THE FESTIVE CLAM. 
 
 READ AT A CLAM-BAKE, JULY, 1886. 
 
 LET others expend all their reason and sense 
 On subjects more grand and sublime; 
 And scale at a bound the Olympian fence, 
 
 On wings of etherial rhyme. 
 Be mine the glad task with a steadier flight, 
 
 Divested of pretense or sham, 
 Bivalvular measures I fain would recite 
 In sounding the praise of the clam. 
 
 Go, search the dim records of ages long past; 
 
 Go, dine in the caves with the bears; 
 The lacustrine dwellings so ancient and vast 
 
 Go, study with diligent care. 
 There see the great mastodon roaming the 
 woods; — 
 
 The young deers along with their dams; 
 But never a trace, where the lake cities stood, 
 
 That the dwellers e'er feasted on clams. 
 
 We've read of great feasts in fable and song, 
 
 Of the richest ambrosial food; 
 And goblets of nectar made foamy and strong, 
 
 As none but goddesses could! 
 We fancy that even the gods will say 
 
 However they surfeit and cram, 
 That we poor mortals fare better than they, 
 
 While feeding on luscious baked clams. 
 
[o AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 We've heard of ascetics— fanatical cranks, 
 
 Who've tortured both body and soul, 
 By fastings and scourgings and similar pranks 
 
 To gain a millennial goal! 
 Endurance of hunger they always insist, 
 
 Will make them submissive as lambs, 
 But the only temptation they can not resist, 
 
 Is a dish of smoking hot clams. 
 
 New England may boast of its Puritan stock. 
 
 And the virtues of that little band, 
 Who planted the tree upon old Plymouth Rock, 
 
 Whose branches o'ershadow the land. 
 But what with its fashionable blue-stocking pride, 
 
 Its many conventional shams, 
 It could never have reached fame's high-water 
 tide, 
 
 Had it not been for its clams! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PEOMS. in 
 
 THE OLD LOVE. 
 
 There is no love like the old love." — Dr. O. W. Holmes. 
 
 ACROSS the trestled bridge of years; 
 Its span of memory brings 
 From out of the vistas of our youth 
 
 Some long remembered things; 
 Some writings on the tablet there 
 
 That ne'er can be effaced; 
 As legible the lines appear 
 As when they first were traced. 
 
 Nor age, nor feeble pulse alone, 
 
 Nor weak and trembling limbs; 
 Nor sightless eyes, nor soundless ears, 
 
 The early record dims. 
 'Tis only when the heart shall cease 
 
 Its warm life-giving streams, 
 That youthful fancies will have fled, 
 
 With all their love-wrought dreams. 
 
 And so the tenderest and best 
 
 Of what the heart can know! 
 The sacred flame divine of love 
 
 The first to live and glow, 
 Forever will remain unquenched, 
 
 While life and memory last! 
 Old age will warm its wrinkled hands 
 
 With embers of the past. 
 
ii2 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 Then marvel not nor needless blame, 
 
 If one sweet face appears, 
 Among the group of early friends, 
 
 Than others, far more dear; 
 Whose picture still remains undimmed; 
 
 Whose love we cherish yet; 
 Whose presence in our waking thoughts, 
 
 We never can forget. 
 
 Though years, with ever changing moods, 
 
 Their varying shades have wrought, 
 And time hath forged the gentle bands, 
 
 That other friendships brought; 
 Yet in life's afternoon, we feel 
 
 The hidden embers glow, 
 The same its morning did reveal 
 
 So many years ago. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 113 
 
 UPON RECIEVING A BOX OF ROSES 
 FROM A LADY FRIEND. 
 
 I KNEW by the fragrance that greeted my sense, 
 That some one had breathed on the flower; 
 And, lips whose sweet luster was void of pretence, 
 
 Had pressed that bright gem of an hour! 
 My cheeks were aflame as I drew forth the prize, 
 
 And saw the bright petals unclose; 
 Then I knew, my dear friend, without a disguise, 
 The breath was a kiss on the rose! 
 
 All day, as I looked at the beautiful gift, 
 
 And the lovely aroma inhaled, 
 A light seemed to shine through an opening rift 
 
 Of a cloud that my happiness veiled, 
 'Twas the light, my dear friend, of love shining 
 through, 
 
 And its rays to my soul gave repose, 
 For I felt a sweet presence of one whom I know, 
 
 Was more precious to me for the rose. 
 
ii4 AROUND THE HEARTH. 
 
 TO A YOUNG WIDOW, ON BEING 
 
 ASKED BY HER TO WRITE 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 MY dear Mrs. B. 'tis apparent to me, 
 That you have an eye on the poet! 
 But why, I confess, I never could guess, 
 You take this new method to show it! 
 
 Now, dear Mrs. B. between you and me 
 
 The poet feels greatly elated; 
 And for you would desire to touch the sweet lyre, 
 
 In strains that could never be mated. 
 
 But with simplest of rhyme and measures of time 
 
 And homely in rythm and diction, 
 You must be content, and meekly consent 
 
 To suffer the dreadful infliction. 
 
 The poet must fail and ever bewail 
 His power t' indite a love sonnet; 
 
 As odorless 'twould be as the flowers we see 
 Displayed on a bran new spring bonnet. 
 
 Then again, Mrs. B. 'tis obvious to me, 
 That a poem to yourself indited, 
 
 Should be truly as sweet, attractive and neat, 
 As she, who the rhyming invited. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 115 
 
 And thus you may know, why it comes to be so; 
 
 The poet must fail in his ditty; 
 He can not portray your charming array, 
 
 In lines either sober or witty. 
 
 Accept from the bard his kindest regard, 
 
 While friendships remain unbated; 
 May lots of good cheer, greet you year after year, 
 
 And you be no longer unmated. 
 
mk 
 
 igiiiir