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OSHKOSH 
 
 A VOLUME OF 
 
 Miscellaneous Verse and Song 
 
 BV 
 
 M. VICTOR STALEY, A. M., Ph. D. 
 
 'Of making many books there is no end:'—Ecclesiastcs ji.-j 
 
 FIRST EDITION 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR 
 
 OAKLAND, CAL 
 
0«88 
 
 T\t 
 
 1 
 
 IVO COPIES f?ECEIV£B. 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1898, by 
 
 M. VICTOR STALEY, A. M., Ph. D. 
 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 
 
 
TO 
 
 MY DEAR PARENTS, 
 
 STEPHEN R. AND EMMA E. STALEY, 
 
 THIS LITTLE WOLUME 
 
 IS LOUINGLY DEDICATED. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 This little volume is not intended for the public at 
 large. The writer feels too much the insignificance of 
 the verses it contains to expect for it any considera- 
 tion at the hands of the general reader. Many of the 
 verses were written at a very youthful age, and the 
 author naturally cherishes them, not by reason of their 
 intrinsic worth, but on account of the recollections of 
 early associations which they conjure up, and because 
 they represent the first ambitious efforts of his life. 
 He has consequently desired to preserve them in a 
 form convenient for occasional perusal. 
 
 Besides feeling very keenly the small value of the 
 thought which the verses contain, the writer now sees, 
 after years of collegiate education, which he did not 
 enjoy at the time of their composition, the many little 
 faults in poetical construction, which at the period of 
 writing were not apparent to him. While arranging 
 the verses for publication he has, with a somewhat 
 more mature judgment, made some changes, intended 
 to improve the rhyme and meter. At times, where 
 such change would call for too great an alteration in 
 words and sense, he has allowed the lines to stand as 
 they originally were, feeling that it would be but a 
 waste of time and effort to attempt to polish too 
 
 (vii) 
 
VUl PREFACE. 
 
 cleverly what, at best, are but youthful crudities in 
 poetic fancy. 
 
 Since, therefore, the author has published the 
 volume simply for his own pleasure, and for the 
 enjoyment of the few friends who will know how to 
 appreciate it by reason of their attachment to the 
 writer, and not because of any merit in the verses 
 themselves, he begs to be allowed to say to any who 
 may feel disposed to criticise, that their time and labor 
 will be altogether wasted, inasmuch as the author, 
 now that he has fully explained his reasons for their 
 publication, is alike unconcerned whether his youthful 
 effusions are either blamed or praised. 
 
 The title has been selected, not for the reason that 
 it bears any real appropriateness to the contents of the 
 volume, but because it is the name of the city where a 
 large share of the writer's youth was passed, and 
 where many of the verses were written, and because 
 the name is, in itself, unique. 
 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 The Author. 
 
 Kalinda Cottage, 
 
 Sierra Madre Villa, CaL 
 August 27, i8g8. 
 
PROEM. 
 
 TO OSHKOSH, The Chief.* 
 
 Hail to thee, Oshkosh, 
 
 Friend of the wKite; 
 Hail to thee, chieftain, 
 
 Proud in thy might. 
 A city beloved 
 
 Is bearing thy name; 
 A city renowned 
 
 Preserves novv thy fame. 
 
 To Oshkosh, The City. 
 
 Hail to thee, Oshkosh, 
 
 Famous old tovVn; 
 Hail to thee, city. 
 
 Great in renown. 
 As proud as the chieftain 
 
 Whose name ye now bear, 
 Art thou of thy fame, which 
 
 Is known evVyWhere. 
 
 *A chief of the Menomonee Indians. 
 
 (ix) 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE, 
 
 Preface vii 
 
 Proem ix 
 
 To Mother in Heaven 17 
 
 P^ouRTH of July 18 
 
 Be Cheerful 20 
 
 On the Death of Senator John A. Logan . 21 
 
 The Dying Soldier 22 
 
 A Question 26 
 
 Farewell 26 
 
 Memorial Day 27 
 
 Tell Me the Story of Jesus 31 
 
 Sleep, Mother, Sleep 33 
 
 Innocence Wronged 33 
 
 Speak, Lawrence, Speak 36 
 
 In Heaven, Dear Mother, We'll Meet Thee 
 
 Again 39 
 
 Beware of the Glass 40 
 
 Lines to a Distant Cousin 42 
 
 A Mother's Love 43 
 
 'Tis Flowing Free for All 45 
 
 They Are Waiting 46 
 
 (xi) 
 
XU CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 "Attention, Comrades!" 47 
 
 New Year 50 
 
 Words of Advice 52 
 
 The Close of a Christian Life 52 
 
 Jesus Is Calling 55 
 
 Take Them Back 56 
 
 Lines to My Sister Julia 57 
 
 Lawrence 57 
 
 Our Home in Heaven 58 
 
 Lines to a Friend 59 
 
 A Vision 60 
 
 Vacant Stands Her Little Chair 63 
 
 Farewell Forevermore 65 
 
 War Memories 66 
 
 What Right Have Ye? 68 
 
 Trust in the Saviour 70 
 
 The Phantom Bride 71 
 
 Old Phcenix Home 72 
 
 In After Years 73 
 
 At Rest 74 
 
 The Soldier's Grave 75 
 
 The Dead Past 78 
 
 We Shall Meet in That Beautiful Land . 79 
 
 A Prayer for Obedience to God 80 
 
 Out of the Toils 81 
 
CONTENTS. Xll 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 The Age of Reason 82 
 
 Lines to a Sorrowing Friend 83 
 
 A Dreary Day 85 
 
 Somebody 87 
 
 Wau-wee-tee, the Spirit Queen 89 
 
 Our Brave Boys in Blue 92 
 
 Despair 93 
 
 A Man's Best Friend Is His Dollar .... 94 
 
 Delora 96 
 
 Lines to Mother 97 
 
 The Camp-fire 98 
 
 A Request 102 
 
 To My Brother John 104 
 
 The Invalid's Appeal 105 
 
 The Relic Hunters 106 
 
 The Old Maid's Prayer 107 
 
 Xenophon's Memorabilia of Socrates . . .110 
 
 Welcome 117 
 
 Do Not Delay 119 
 
 Finis 120 
 
MISCELLANEOUS VERSE AND 
 SONG 
 
MISCELLANEOUS VERSE AND SONG. 
 
 TO MOTHER IN HEAVEN. 
 
 Mother, I loved thee, and God knows how well ; 
 Words written, words spoken, my love could ne'er 
 
 tell. 
 Your departure from life seemed to me all too soon, 
 For you left me to mourn ere the full light of noon 
 Its radiance had shed o'er my pathway in life. 
 To struggle alone in this whirlpool of strife. 
 Oh, the grief that was mine when I knew you were 
 
 dead; 
 That forever from earth your fond spirit had fled ! 
 Oh, what anguish o'erwhelmed me when 'neath the 
 
 cold sod 
 They laid you to rest in the arms of your God ! 
 All the light disappeared from those once happy days; 
 All the flowers ceased to bloom by life's once shining 
 
 ways. 
 In darkness I groped, and I cared not how soon 
 Death claimed my young life, yea, I e'en craved the 
 
 boon. 
 
 2 (17) 
 
1 8 OSHKOSH. 
 
 In sorrow and weeping my days were oft spent, 
 Till at last like a message from heaven was sent 
 An angelic radiance the darkness to clear, 
 While a voice seemed to whisper, ** Be thou of good 
 
 cheer ; 
 Prove thy love by a life of affection sincere, 
 Kind words for the erring, for affliction a tear ; 
 Let your life be a tribute in mem'ry of one 
 Whom you loved, and her virtues be proved in her 
 
 son. 
 Thy affliction is that which must fall upon all ; 
 Then up and advance whither duty may call." 
 Hope illumined my heart through the shadows of 
 
 night; 
 The affection you bear proved a beacon of light 
 To guide me aright to thy sheltering love. 
 And the home of my Father in mansions above. 
 
 FOURTH OF JULY, 
 
 Go, ring the bells loudly, 
 
 And list to them proudly, 
 Gladly proclaiming to a downtrodden world 
 
 The birth of a nation, 
 
 The pride of creation, 
 Its emblem, our Stars, to the breezes unfurled. 
 
FOURTH OF JULY. 1 9 
 
 Let the cannon's loud roar 
 
 To our minds bring once more 
 The hardships and dangers our fathers withstood; 
 
 Let us think of the past, 
 
 How they stood in the blast 
 Raining pitiless on them, which sapped their 
 heart-blood ; 
 
 Of the wrongs they endured 
 
 Until, freedom assured, 
 Sweet Liberty's banner triumphantly waved; 
 
 Till the tyrants had fled, 
 
 All their hopes for aye dead, 
 And left them their homes and the country they 
 saved. 
 
 Let us think once again 
 
 Of the terrible pain 
 They so bravely endured in bleak Valley Forge ; 
 
 Of the hatchet and knife 
 
 That would spare not a life, 
 When England sent on them the red heathen 
 scourge. 
 
 As we hear the glad strains 
 
 And inspiring refrains, 
 Saratoga and Yorktown again we recall ; 
 
 And we hear the glad cries 
 
 That went up to the skies 
 At the thought that no longer would tyrants 
 enthrall. 
 
20 OSHKOSH. 
 
 Go, ring the bells loudly; 
 
 Our banner streams proudly 
 From ocean to ocean o'er the homes of the free 
 
 And we think, as we gaze 
 
 On its bright, starry rays, 
 Its folds will protect us where'er we may be. 
 
 Though should miles intervene 
 
 Between us and the green, 
 Hospitable shores of our own native land, 
 
 Yet our freedom still lives ; 
 
 For our nation e'er gives 
 Protection to all by the might of her hand. 
 
 Hail the Fourth with glad shout; 
 
 Let the chimes pealing out 
 Proclaim to all nations the hope of the world ; 
 
 America, the gem, 
 
 Freedom's bright diadem, 
 Its emblem, the standard our fathers unfurled. 
 
 BE CHEERFUL. 
 
 Though dark and dreary it may seem. 
 And clouds obscure the skies ; 
 
 Yet still the sun is shining bright, 
 Though hidden from our eyes. 
 
ON THE DEATH OF SENATOR LOGAN. 21 
 
 If we will wait and watch awhile, 
 
 The clouds will pass away ; 
 We'll see once more the azure skies, 
 
 And bright will be the day. 
 
 And thus it is with human life — 
 Some days seem dark and drear; 
 
 Across the sunshine of our hearts 
 A cloud will oft appear. 
 
 Yet through it all the star of hope 
 
 Is ever shining bright ; 
 And soon the troubled clouds of care 
 
 Will vanish from our sig-ht. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF SENATOR 
 JOHN A. LOGAN. 
 
 Farewell ! farewell ! our most illustrious dead, 
 
 Ye who but yesterday within the halls 
 
 Of state the will of a great people voiced, 
 
 On whom a nation leaned, and unto whom 
 
 Did look for careful guidance and advice, 
 
 Now lifeless lie, to all entreaty dumb : 
 
 Thou hearest not the cry of those distressed ; 
 
 And yet, though death hath snapped life's fragile thread 
 
 When in the zenith of exalted fame. 
 
22 OSHKOSH. 
 
 History's page records thy noble deeds, 
 And coming ages will thy praises sing. 
 By all men will thy mem'ry be revered, 
 And Logan's name be spoken oft with pride. 
 While this they say, as tribute to thy worth, 
 " He died as he had lived — an honest man." 
 
 THE DYING SOLDIER. 
 
 'Mong those who proudly sallied forth 
 
 At our loved country's call, 
 To bravely battle for the right, 
 
 Or on the field to fall, 
 To check rebellion's rising wrath, 
 
 The tide of war to stay. 
 Two young and noble heroes marched 
 
 From childhood's home away. 
 
 Twin brothers were those gallant lads, 
 
 And sadly gazed they on 
 The hills and valleys where they oft 
 
 Had sported in the sun ; 
 The green and grassy hillside slopes, 
 
 The rocks and woodland glen, 
 That with their happy ringing shouts 
 
 Would ne'er resound again. 
 
THE DYING SOLDIER. 23 
 
 They left their pleasant, happy home, 
 
 Their mother's fond caress. 
 Their father's strong, protecting arm, 
 
 Their sister's tenderness ; 
 Left all at their loved country's call, 
 
 And armed them for the strife. 
 While gallantly they marched away 
 
 To sound of drum and fife. 
 
 We see them on the midnight march, 
 
 Enduring hardships dire; 
 We see them on the battle-field, 
 
 'Midst shot and smoke and fire; 
 But as we gaze upon the scene, 
 
 Smoke hides them from our sight; 
 Yet fearlessly they onward press — 
 
 The foe is put to flight. 
 
 The Stars and Stripes wave o'er the field 
 
 The victory is won ; 
 But many lie in death's repose 
 
 Beneath the scorching sun ; 
 And where the smoky clouds of war 
 
 Still hover in the skies. 
 Close by yon cool and sparkling brook, 
 
 A noble hero lies. 
 
24 OSHKOSH. 
 
 His brother, bending o'er his form, 
 
 Breathes words of kindly cheer ; 
 And stoops his pallid lips to kiss. 
 
 His dying words to hear. 
 •' Dear brother, ere yon blazing sun 
 
 Shall cast its mellow light 
 Upon the hills and valleys fair. 
 
 My soul will take its flight. 
 
 " Oh, would that I could see again 
 
 The rocks, the fields, and hills ; 
 And walk once more the shady path 
 
 Beside the murm'ring rills ! 
 Oh, when you see that dear old home, 
 
 That home we loved so well, 
 Oh, tell them how we bravely fought, 
 
 And tell them how I fell ! 
 
 " Ah, brother, if I could but see 
 
 Our dear old mother now. 
 And feel her tender, loving hand 
 
 Upon my aching brow; 
 Could I but see our father's face, 
 
 Our sister, young and fair, 
 It would not be so hard to die, 
 
 Nor half so hard to bear ! 
 
THE DYING SOLDIER. 2$ 
 
 "But I shall never see them more; 
 
 Death soon shall claim his prize; 
 My hands are growing numb and cold, 
 
 A mist steals o'er my eyes. 
 Soon I shall cross death's raging stream, 
 
 So, brother, say farewell ; 
 And lay me here beneath the sod. 
 
 Where I so nobly fell. 
 
 *' Here 'neath this spreading willow tree 
 
 That casts its shade around ; 
 Far from the noisy, busy world. 
 
 And war's distressful sound." 
 His voice grows strangely feeble now, 
 
 While lower droops his head ; 
 His eyes close softly, as in sleep — 
 
 The weary soul has fled. 
 
 When the pale moon, slowly rising, 
 
 Bathes the world in tender light. 
 In the grave to rest they lay him. 
 
 There forever from our sight; 
 Where the sparkling brook is flowing, 
 
 Gently flowing to the sea, 
 There they lay the youthful martyr 
 
 To the cause of liberty. 
 
26 OSHKOSH. 
 
 In no coffin they inclose him, 
 
 And no costly marble raise, 
 But they leave him to his glory, 
 
 And a grateful nation's praise ; 
 For, through all the future ages, 
 
 Freedom's happy, smiling land 
 To her brave and fallen heroes 
 
 As a monument shall stand. 
 
 A QUESTION. 
 
 Why sigh, because in this brief life 
 
 Ye pass beneath the rod ? 
 Will ye not suffer grief and pain 
 A moment here, thereby to gain 
 Eternity with God? 
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 [Written on the death of Ernest Tidd, a student of Lawrence University, 
 which occurred November 14, 1887.] 
 
 Dear Lawrence mourns. She weeps for one 
 Who was her light, her joy, her pride; 
 
 Death claimed the prize, and he has won, — 
 Her well-beloved child has died. 
 
MEMORIAL DAY. 2^ 
 
 Clio.— Farewell ! farewell ! our comrade dear, 
 Farewell ! farewell ! farewell ! 
 
 With silent tread, with chilling breath. 
 
 Clad in the sable robes of grief, 
 He came and our fond hearts bereft, 
 
 That he might garner for his sheaf. 
 
 Her halls no more with mirth resound. 
 For she has felt the chast'ning rod; 
 
 But he for whom we mourn has found 
 Eternal rest and peace in God. 
 
 Farewell ! farewell ! our comrade dear ; 
 
 Though the sad parting gives us pain, 
 The while we brush away the tear, 
 
 We know our loss is but thy gain. 
 
 Though sorrow falls upon the heart 
 Like darkness o'er the midday sun ; 
 
 Though sorely grieved are we to part, 
 Still we can say, " God's will be done." 
 
 MEMORIAL DAY. 
 
 To-day we meet to homage pay 
 
 Unto our patriot dead ; 
 To scatter nature's brightest flowers 
 
 Above their lowly bed. 
 
28 OSHKOSH. 
 
 War's rude alarms no more disturb, 
 Nor wake them from their sleep ; 
 
 Above their graves the forest trees 
 Their silent watch shall keep. 
 
 Though they are dead, their deeds remain 
 The land they fought to save 
 
 United stands, in all its pride, 
 In honor of the brave. 
 
 Then let us strew the brightest flowers 
 That bloom on nature's breast, 
 
 Above the green and grassy mounds 
 Where now they lie at rest. 
 
 On many hard-fought battle-fields 
 
 Their valor oft was tried; 
 And many now lie where they fell, 
 
 Our nation's joy and pride. 
 
 On the hill, and in the valley, 
 Lies unmarked the lonely grave; 
 
 Heroicly their lives they offered, 
 That they might their country save. 
 
 Give them, then, the praise they merit, 
 And the laurels they have won ; 
 
 Theirs no selfish thoughts or motives. 
 They were Freedom's truest sons. 
 
MEMORIAL DAY. 
 
 Then strew above their lonely grave 
 The brightest flowers that bloom; 
 
 And let the flag they fought to save 
 Wave gaily o'er their tomb. 
 
 For the right they fought and conquered, 
 Stamped foul treason from our land, 
 
 And aloft the starry banner 
 
 Raised with proud, triumphant hand. 
 
 When the serpent of secession 
 
 Reared aloft its snaky head ; 
 When the sable war-clouds darkly 
 
 O'er our smiling country spread; 
 
 When the storming of Fort Sumter 
 
 Gave the signal for the strife, 
 They marched proudly forth to battle, 
 
 To the sound of drum and fife; 
 
 Marched away, and left behind them 
 Childhood's home and loving friend, 
 
 All whom they had cherished dearly, 
 And might never see again. 
 
 Yet they bravely bore the parting. 
 
 Though the tears would dim their eyes, 
 
 And to strains of martial music 
 Left their home and native skies. 
 
 29 
 
30 OSHKOSH. 
 
 On their dreary march they plodded, 
 Through the swamps and dark morass; 
 
 Words ne'er can describe the hardships 
 Through which they were forced to pass. 
 
 Through the lonely hours of midnight 
 Stood they on the sentry's beat, 
 
 While the storm raged in its fury 
 And poured down a blinding sheet; 
 
 While the thunder pealing o'er them 
 
 Woke the echoes far and near, 
 And the lightning's vivid flashes 
 
 Seemed to make the night more drear. 
 
 On the gory field of battle, 
 
 Where, alas! so many fell, 
 They rushed bravely on to combat 
 ' Midst the storm of shot and shell. 
 
 In the prison's foulest dungeon 
 They were loyal, true, and brave; 
 
 Now, in honor of their valor. 
 
 Strew bright flowers above their grave. 
 
 Yes, with love and kindness strew them 
 O'er the graves where now they lie ; 
 
 When death's dark-winged angel claimed them 
 They were not afraid to die. 
 
TELL ME THE STORY OF JESUS. 3 1 
 
 Down the halls of coming ages 
 
 Will their deeds heroic ring; 
 And the coming generations 
 
 Oft with pride their praises sing. 
 
 Plant the flag of freedom o'er them; 
 
 In the breeze there let it wave, 
 As a symbol of their glory, 
 
 As a tribute to the brave. 
 
 Weave for them bright wreaths and garlands 
 Of the purest flowers that bloom ; 
 
 And, with love and tender kindness, 
 Strew them o'er their hallowed tomb. 
 
 TELL ME THE STORY OF JESUS. 
 
 Oh, tell me the story of Jesus, 
 The Saviour who died for me; 
 The wonderful story that ne'er grows old, 
 Though over and over again 'tis told; 
 Oh, tell me the wonderful story 
 Of Jesus of Calvary ! 
 
 Cho. — Oh, tell me the story of Jesus, 
 The wonderful story of Jesus; 
 Oh, tell me the story of Jesus, 
 The Saviour who died for me ! 
 
32 OSHKOSH. 
 
 Oh, tell me the story of Jesus, 
 The Saviour who died for me; 
 How Christ, the Anointed, the world to save. 
 So freely His blood as a ransom gave; 
 Oh, tell me the wonderful story 
 Of Jesus of Calvary ! 
 
 Oh, tell me the story of Jesus, 
 The Saviour who died for me; 
 Whose touch brought a glow to the faded cheek, 
 Who raised up the dead and made strong the weak ; 
 Oh, tell me the wonderful story 
 Of Jesus of Calvary ! 
 
 Oh, tell me the story of Jesus, 
 The Saviour who died for me; 
 The Master, who opens to me the door, 
 And bids me to wander in sin no more 
 Oh, tell me the wonderful story 
 Of Jesus of Calvary! 
 
 Oh, tell me the story of Jesus, 
 The Saviour who died for me; 
 Who bids me my burden of sin lay down, 
 Who offers to me an eternal crown ; 
 Oh, tell me the wonderful story 
 Of Jesus of Calvary ! 
 
INNOCENCE WRONGED. 33 
 
 SLEEP, MOTHER, SLEEP. 
 
 [An Epitaph.] 
 
 Sleep, mother, sleep. All earthly cares are past. 
 Heaven is thine ; mortality at last 
 
 Hath clothed itself with immortality. 
 Thy faith in Christ hath now been realized ; 
 Thy hope of life eternal, fondly prized, 
 
 Hath now become a blest reality. 
 
 INNOCENCE WRONGED. 
 
 Dark flows the river and wild through the city. 
 
 Surging and tossing its way to the sea; 
 Fierce rages the storm in the height of its fury, 
 
 As loudly it shrieks in demoniac glee. 
 Out from the darkness steals softly a maiden ; 
 
 Into the glare of the gas she has sped ; 
 Passing again from the light to the shadow, 
 
 Soon in the gloom of the night she has fled. 
 
 On toward the wild, rushing waters she hurries. 
 
 Reaches the brink of the stream running cold, 
 With face white as marble, fair e'en in its pallor, 
 
 With hair all disheveled, bright ringlets of gold. 
 Blue are her eyes, that now, startled, stare wildly ; 
 
 White are the hands which are clasped to her brow ; 
 Once red were her lips, that are moving so feebly. 
 
 In the heart's awful anguish convulsing her now. 
 
34 OSHKOSH. 
 
 Down in the depths of the swift-flowing current, 
 
 Which dashes about as though seeking its prey, 
 She gazes affrighted, a look of despairing 
 
 Stamped on her features so palHd and gray. 
 She heeds not the storm beating coldly upon her, 
 
 The glare of the lightning, or thunder's long roll; 
 She sees but the waves raging wildly beneath her, 
 
 Feels but the anguish consuming her soul. 
 
 Her hands are now raised toward the dark vault of 
 heaven, 
 
 Implores she her God to have mercy and save; 
 With a shriek of despair she springs out o'er the water, 
 
 And sinks 'neath the depths of the dark-flowing 
 wave ; 
 Quickly the billows close madly above her, 
 
 Now surs^ing along in their fiendish delight, 
 Now scnmding a dirge for the unhappy maiden, 
 
 As onward they dash through the darkness of night. 
 
 Far from the city, one morning, they found her, 
 
 Close by the green and the flower-studded bank, 
 Her white face upturned to the bright mxorning 
 sunlight, 
 
 Her fair golden tresses all tangled and dank. 
 'Twas the same olden story: a maiden confiding, 
 
 Ignorant of sin, — a soul white as a dove, — 
 Who gave to a villain her wealth of aflection. 
 
 And received but discrrace in return for her love. 
 
INNOCENCE WRONGED. 35 
 
 Black must, indeed, be the heart of the dastard 
 
 Who thus could allure to her ruin a maid, 
 Whose pure heart had showered its richest of blessings. 
 
 With the thought that her love would by love be 
 repaid. 
 Alas! she knew naught of deceit and of cunning, 
 
 Nor aught of the wiles that are used to ensnare, 
 Naught of the traps laid to catch the unwary, 
 
 To drag down to shame what is stainless and fair. 
 
 With hellish delight did the scoundrel betray her, 
 
 And then cast her from him, nor list her appeal, 
 As she in despair pleaded to him for mercy, — 
 
 Alas! not a pang did his craven heart feel. 
 Then turned she to those who had once fondly loved 
 her, 
 
 And vainly implored them, with heart-rending moan; 
 With looks of suspicion they turned coldly from her, 
 
 While changed were their hearts to the hardness 
 of stone. 
 
 The cathedral that stood near the home of her 
 childhood 
 
 O'ershadowed the portal from which she was thrust; 
 Yet no friendly hand was outstretched in its pity, 
 
 As a barrier 'twixt her and the hell-holes of lust. 
 The pure world of love was forever closed on her; 
 
 The only road open, the pathway to shame; 
 Yet now, perhaps purer than those who despised her, 
 
 She preferred the dark wave to a dishonored name. 
 
36 OSHKOSH. 
 
 God in His mercy'U look kindly upon her, 
 
 While damning the wretch who accomplished her fall; 
 They whose unkindness augmented her anguish, 
 
 Will answer the crime at the archangel's call. 
 They laid her to rest where the green, shady branches 
 
 A sad requiem could wave for her unhappy fate, 
 Where daisies bloom round her in tender compassion, 
 
 While twitters the bird the sad tale to its mate. 
 
 SPEAK, LAWRENCE, SPEAK. 
 
 [An address to Lawrence University.] 
 
 Speak, Lawrence, speak. Reveal to me 
 
 What thou hast seen, and felt, and heard; 
 For many times the song of glee 
 
 With tuneful throb thy heart hath stirred. 
 Full oft hath, through thy ancient halls, 
 
 Rang loud the jocund laugh of youth. 
 Who sought within thy classic walls 
 
 Thy hoard of lore, thy wealth of truth. 
 
 Full many years thou, stern and gray. 
 
 Hast braved the storms that round thee beat, 
 And yet thou standest here to-day 
 
 The eyes of others still to greet, 
 Who seek that knowledge naught can give 
 
 Save patient toil and delving mind, 
 To teach them how a life to live, 
 
 To search for truth, and searching find. 
 
SPEAK, LAWRENCE, SPEAK. 37 
 
 To-day thou standest firm and grand, 
 
 As first thou stoodst in all thy pride, 
 When, years ago, to all the land 
 
 Thy friendly portals opened wide. 
 Years since these halls, that now resound 
 
 With sprightly step and voices sweet, 
 Where mirth and jollity abound, 
 
 Echoed the tread of other feet. 
 
 Other minds have sought for knowledge. 
 
 Other hearts have wrought for fame, 
 Through thy teaching, dear old college, 
 
 And have won an honored name; 
 Now they turn to thee in gladness, 
 
 Sing thy praises, while they tell 
 How their hearts were filled with sadness 
 
 When they bade to thee farewell. 
 
 Ope thy lips and tell me truly 
 
 Of gilded hopes and lowering fears ; 
 Reveal thy secrets, Lawrence, to me, 
 
 Though be it tale of mirth or tears. 
 Tell me how young hearts high beating, 
 
 In youthful hours of careless mirth, 
 Built air-castles that time, fleeting, 
 
 Alas ! but dashed again to earth. 
 
38 OSHKOSH. 
 
 Hast thou followed in life's battle, 
 
 Where duty led thy children on, 
 'Midst the great world's ceaseless rattle, 
 
 Beheld the conflict nobly won? 
 Hast thou seen their banner streaming. 
 
 Borne onward bravely in the fight, 
 With the name of Lawrence gleaming 
 
 Amidst its folds with holy light? 
 
 Didst thou see how vict'ry flushed them 
 
 With the glow of conscious pride? 
 Didst thou, when defeat had crushed them, 
 
 Stand in sorrow by their side? 
 Tell me, Lawrence, hast thou mourned them? 
 
 Whilst others wept didst thou not weep, 
 When loved hands had kindly borne them 
 
 To that long, eternal sleep? 
 
 Thou answ'rest not, nor wilt reveal 
 
 Aught that is locked within thy heart; 
 Thou placest on thy lips a seal, 
 
 Nor wilt thou with one secret part. 
 Ah, well! I will not ask thee more 
 
 To share with me those mem'ries dear; 
 Keep, Lawrence, keep thy cherished store, 
 
 And add thou to it year by 3^ear. 
 
WE LL MEET THEE AGAIN. 39 
 
 IN HEAVEN, DEAR MOTHER, WE'LL 
 MEET THEE AGAIN. 
 
 Dear mother in heaven, we cherish thy name, 
 
 Though no more thy kind face we may see; 
 Though long years have passed since thou left us to 
 mourn, 
 
 Yet our hearts are still yearning for thee; 
 Though we miss thy loved form, and thy kind, tender 
 voice, — 
 
 The sweet music that told of thy love, — 
 Yet we would not recall thee to live upon earth, 
 
 For we know thou art happy above. 
 
 Cho. — In heaven, dear mother, we'll meet thee again 
 When our life here on earth shall be o'er; 
 In that bright, shining land, in that beautiful 
 land, 
 We shall meet and shall part nevermore. 
 
 We thought, when the angels from heaven's bright 
 shore 
 
 Called thee home from this cold world of care, 
 That life was too lonely, and home was too drear, 
 
 And our burden too heavy to bear; 
 But softly a calm seemed to steal o'er our hearts. 
 
 And a voice bade us sorrow no more; 
 For at last, o'er the dark-flowing river of death, 
 
 We should meet on that beautiful shore. 
 
40 OSHKOSH. 
 
 We wait and we long for the time that shall come 
 
 That shall grant us a look at thy face; 
 For the time when once more we shall hear thy 
 sweet voice, 
 
 And again feel thy loving embrace; 
 And though often our pathway on earth may be 
 rough, 
 
 And we falter sometimes in despair, 
 It will cheer us to know thou art watching above, 
 
 And waiting to welcome us there. 
 
 We yearn for thy kiss and thy tender caress, 
 
 For the kind, loving clasp of thy hand; 
 Oh, happy the thought we shall meet thee again, 
 
 Ne'er to part in that beautiful land ! 
 Though long years may pass ere we reach thy loved 
 side, 
 
 Yet the hope of that meeting shall be 
 A balm for all woe, and a cheer to our hearts, 
 
 And a beacon to light us to thee. 
 
 BEWARE OF THE GLASS. 
 
 Beware of the glass; it contains naught but evil. 
 
 An hideous reptile is lurking within. 
 Turn from its foul presence, ere lured to destruction; 
 
 'Tis the fiend of intemp'rance, the demon of sin. 
 
BEWARE OF THE GLASS. 4 1 
 
 Fly, fly from its charms ; 'twill disown thee of man- 
 hood; 
 From thy friends and thy loved ones 'twill tear thee 
 apart. 
 Take warning, young man, ere the chains are upon 
 thee, 
 Ere the fangs of the serpent have pierced to thy 
 heart. 
 
 Oh, think of the sorrow and dire devastation 
 
 Which is wrought by this evil, the foul curse of 
 rum ! 
 Oh, think of the loving, the virtuous, the holy, 
 
 Dragged down in the vortex of some city slum! 
 Oh, list to the weeping of heart-broken mothers, 
 
 The wailing of wives and of children half fed! 
 Oh, gaze on their starved and grief-stricken faces! 
 
 Oh, hark to them piteously begging for bread! 
 
 Behold the young man as he dreams of the future, 
 
 See the flash of his eye as he enters the strife; 
 For, free from all guile, there is strength in his man- 
 hood, 
 
 He looks on the world as the playground of life. 
 Alps on Alps may arise, yet he feels he can scale 
 them; 
 
 He presses heroicly onward to fame; 
 Alas! comes the tempter and offers the wine-cup; 
 
 He yields — is engulfed in the whirlpool of shame. 
 
42 OSHKOSH. 
 
 A mother bends low o'er the wreck of her darling, 
 
 A fond father's tears are now falling like rain; 
 The fair lips of a sister are pressed to his forehead, 
 
 As loudly she sobs in her heart's awful pain. 
 The serpent's cruel fangs have pierced deep to the 
 vitals 
 This son so beloved, this brother so dear, 
 Bringing death to a youth in the prime of his man- 
 hood, 
 And to those who had loved him the anguishing 
 tear. 
 
 Beware of the bowl, for each bright scintillation 
 
 Is a gleam from the eye of a demon within; 
 Its glow is the charm by which means it allures thee, 
 
 To engulf thee at last in a vortex of sin. 
 O youth in thy purity, shun the dread poison! 
 
 Beware, and, oh, let not its charms thee enthrall; 
 Though thou wert a saint in the garments of glory, 
 
 But yield to its lure, and thou yieldest thine all ! 
 
 LINES TO A DISTANT COUSIN. 
 
 Though never have I gazed upon your face, 
 Nor heard in mirth your merry laughter ring, 
 
 Yet, as these lines to you I fondly trace, 
 I hope that future years may never bring 
 
A MOTHER S LOVE. 43 
 
 Aught that shall mar the pleasure of your days, 
 Or cause your happy life one hour of pain; 
 
 Though clouds appear, may they soon pass away, 
 And peace within your heart forever reign. 
 
 And I would ask that you would strive to live 
 
 A noble life of kindness and of love, 
 Though sometimes wronged, still willing to forgive, 
 
 And leave the rest with Him who rules above. 
 
 Thus would I have you live, and, living right, 
 Prepared, when death shall enter at your door, 
 
 To meet our loved ones in those realms of light, 
 And rest in peace on God's eternal shore. 
 
 A MOTHER'S LOVE. 
 
 We see the infant on its mother's breast. 
 Like a young bird within its cozy nest; 
 Naught knows he of life's rude alarms 
 While lying in her loving arms; 
 The troubled clouds of worldly care 
 Have not yet crossed his brow so fair. 
 We know not what his future here may be 
 The pathway of his life we can not see. 
 
44 OSHKOSH. 
 
 He may the ladder climb to fame; 
 The world may execrate his name ; 
 But now he's only mother's boy, 
 Her brightest hope, her greatest joy. 
 
 We see him as he slowly plods to school. 
 He may become a wise man or a fool ; 
 May shine within the halls of state; 
 A prison cell may be his fate; 
 We can not tell which it shall be, 
 For we must wait if we would see. 
 We see him, as he enters man's estate, 
 Select the one he takes to be his mate. 
 Though now a bearded man full grown. 
 With wife and children of his own. 
 Yet he is still her darling boy, 
 Her brightest hope, her only joy. 
 
 Thus, from the lowly cradle unto death, 
 
 She'll love and praise him with her latest breath, 
 
 Though acts of his may cause her shame. 
 
 Yet still will she remain the same; 
 
 Though others turn him from the door, 
 
 She will but love him all the more. 
 
 And try, by love, and prayers, and tears, 
 
 To break the bond of misspent years, 
 
 And draw him onward up to God, 
 
 Ere she is laid beneath the sod ; 
 
 For he is still her wayward boy, 
 
 Her one fond hope, her only joy. 
 
'tis flowing free for all. 45 
 
 'TIS FLOWING FREE FOR ALL 
 
 Tune: "Hold the Fort." 
 
 See the water, sparkling brightly, 
 
 Flowing free for all, 
 Tinkling sweetly down the valley, — 
 
 Hear its welcome call. 
 
 Cho. — Come, oh, come, ye who are thirsty, 
 Leave the ruby wine; 
 Quaff, oh, quaff the crystal water, — 
 It is freely thine ! 
 
 See it bubbling from the hillside, 
 
 Nature's hidden spring; 
 As it ripples o'er the pebbles, 
 
 Hear it gaily sing. 
 
 In its depths so clear and sparkling 
 
 Is no poison found; 
 Ever purling, e'er inviting, 
 
 Hark! the joyful sound. 
 
 Oh, beware. Death lies in ambush, 
 'Neath the wine-cup's glow; 
 
 E'er, when tempted, wave it from thee, — 
 Fear not to say, "No." 
 
4-6 OSHKOSH. 
 
 THEY ARE WAITING. 
 
 There's a blessed home above, 
 A fair and radiant land, 
 And our loved ones are standing on the shore; 
 They are watching and waiting 
 To clasp us by the hand, 
 When this weary, changing voyage shall be o'er. 
 
 Cho. — Our loved ones are waiting, 
 
 Are watching and waiting, 
 Are watching and waiting on the shore. 
 
 Through the shadows dense and drear 
 There breaks upon our sight 
 A gleam of hope from heaven's eternal day; 
 
 It streams athwart the boundless wave, 
 Dispels the gloom of night, 
 Transforms the dashing surf to silver spray. 
 
 Onward plows our fragile bark, 
 Its course the path of light, 
 Illumined way that leads to perfect rest; 
 
 Though the tempest wild may rage, 
 We'll keep the goal in sight, 
 Till we reach the home eternal of the blest. 
 
"attention, comrades ! " 47 
 
 As we near the golden strand, 
 The radiance brighter grows, 
 And the tempest wild, now raging, soon will cease; 
 Fair upon our vision breaks 
 A morn that fervid glows, — 
 Tis the dawning of the perfect day of peace. 
 
 "ATTENTION, COMRADESl" 
 
 [Composed for the reunion and camp-fire held by the Wisconsin G. A. R. Post 
 No. 10, at Oshkosh, Wis., Feb. 22, 1886.] 
 
 To-night in glad reunion, 
 
 Ye comrades brave and true, 
 We extend the hand of friendship 
 
 To those who wore the blue. 
 
 And round the camp-fire's ruddy blaze 
 
 Ye'll call to mind the day 
 When, with banners gaily streaming, 
 
 Ye proudly marched away. 
 
 Ye'll recall to mind the parting 
 From all that earth held dear; 
 
 Hear again your father's blessing, 
 See again your mother's tear. 
 
48 OSHKOSH. 
 
 With a sigh of bitter anguish 
 
 Ye turned your face away, 
 To hide from them the burning tears 
 
 That dimmed your eyes that day. 
 
 Ye may recall one dearer yet, 
 
 Whose bright eyes filled with tears, 
 
 As, clasped within your loving arms, 
 Ye strove to quiet her fears. 
 
 It may have been a loving wife, 
 Who, clinging to your arm, 
 
 Prayed God to guide your footsteps right, 
 And keep you from all harm. 
 
 And ye stooped to kiss your children, 
 
 With all a father's love, 
 With a prayer to God in heaven 
 
 To guard them from above. 
 
 With breaking heart ye marched away 
 To join your brave command ; 
 
 But, on the brow of yonder hill, 
 Ye turned and waved your hand. 
 
 Across the prairies, o'er the hills. 
 Ye marched with gallant tread 
 
 To meet the foe on southern soil, 
 Our flag above your head. 
 
"attention, comrades ! " 
 
 Ah ! mortal pen can never tell 
 
 The hardships ye passed through ; 
 
 But ages hence will speak your praise, 
 Ye gallant boys in blue. 
 
 Now on the dreary, midnight march. 
 While not a star did gleam, 
 
 Now toiling on 'midst mud and mire, 
 Now fording swollen stream. 
 
 Thus onward marched ye to the strife. 
 Nor shirked your duty, when 
 
 The frowning mouths of rebel guns 
 Belched forth their leaden rain. 
 
 But forward ye did bravely press, 
 
 Resolved to do or die ; 
 For ye had sworn to place again 
 
 Our flag 'neath southern sky. 
 
 How well ye kept your sacred oath 
 
 Need ne'er be told by pen ; 
 For Stars and Bars will never wave 
 
 O'er our loved land again. 
 
 For ye did raise the Stars and Stripes 
 
 Above that rebel land. 
 And tore the tongue from treason's throat, 
 Ye brave and gallant band, 
 4 
 
 49 
 
50 OSHKOSH. 
 
 The sound of strife is heard no more ; 
 
 War's clouds have rolled away ; 
 Our Stars but shine the brighter for 
 
 That long and dreadful fray. 
 
 And now in glad reunion 
 
 We welcome you to-night 
 To sing the old war-songs again, 
 
 Around our camp-fire's light. 
 
 But while we join in song and mirth, 
 
 And deeds of valor tell, 
 We'll not forget those comrades brave, 
 
 Those gallant bo3^s that fell. 
 
 Though some in unknown graves now lie, 
 Yet honored be their name ; 
 
 The Stars and Stripes shall ever wave 
 A tribute to their fame. 
 
 NEW YEAR. 
 
 Hark ! the merry chimes are pealing ; 
 
 Sweetly falls upon the ear 
 The joyous sound, to all proclaiming 
 
 The advent of a new-born year. 
 
NEW YEAR. 51 
 
 Oh, what fond hopes now lie buried 
 
 In the dark grave of the past! 
 Oh, what castles grandly builded. 
 
 To but fall to earth at last! 
 
 Oh, what aching hearts are yearning 
 
 For the happiness of yore; 
 For the youthful days of pleasure, 
 
 That will come to them no more, 
 
 But be only buried deeper, 
 
 As the years fly swiftly by, 
 To with longing be remembered. 
 
 And recalled with but a sigh ! 
 
 Ah, vain regrets for passing years! 
 
 'Tis useless to repine; 
 Those happy, bygone days for us 
 
 Again shall never shine. 
 
 'Twere well if we could but forbear 
 
 To mourn the passing year, 
 And turn our faces to the bright 
 
 And dazzling future near; 
 
 For hope relieves the heart of pain. 
 Though false that hope may be, 
 
 And gives it strength to bear its trials. 
 From sorrow sets it free. 
 
52 OSHKOSH. 
 
 Then let the bells peal joyfully 
 To herald the new-born year; 
 
 And let the cheerful smile of hope 
 Replace the blinding tear. 
 
 Think not of what the past has been; 
 
 Turn toward the future bright, 
 With a resolve to nobly strive 
 
 For God and for the right. 
 
 WORDS OF ADVICE. 
 
 Let through life your motto be, 
 "Justice and humanity." 
 
 Lift the fallen; aid the weak; 
 To the erring kindly speak. 
 
 THE CLOSE OF A CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
 
 What peace must in the soul of him abide 
 Who, having reached his fourscore years of life, 
 Can, from the vantage-ground thus gained, look back 
 Along the pathway that but late he trod. 
 And say unto himself in accents glad, 
 '' My course I've finished and I've kept the faith ; 
 Henceforth a crown of righteousness awaits 
 Me in the glorious mansions of my God." 
 
THE CLOSE OF A CHRISTIAN LIFE. 53 
 
 He who can, in the winter of his life, 
 Soliloquize thus ere he passes on 
 To take his place 'mid the immortal throng, 
 Has surely a forecast of the reward 
 His noble acts on earth have merited. 
 The past, to him, is, as it were, a scroll 
 Whereon he reads naught but the good and true — 
 Admitting this: no perfect man e'er lived 
 Save Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God; — 
 He scans the pages of his boyhood days: 
 He kneels once more beside his mother's knee. 
 And hears her voice in accents soft and low, — 
 A mother's voice, oh, sweetest melody ! — 
 Repeat again the prayers she taught him then, 
 Which oft through life, when he was tempted sore, 
 Together with remembrance of her love, 
 Proved ever an impregnable defense. 
 He sees temptations that did once assail, 
 Not as they came to him in manhood's prime 
 Clothed in becoming garb, appear they now. 
 But in their proper guise. No mask conceals 
 Their hideousness. He shudders at the sight, 
 For to his mind there comes the awful thought, 
 '* What if I then had yielded to desire 
 To do that which my better self abhorred? 
 WHiat if my feet, with folly as their guide. 
 Had learned to stray far from the beaten track ? 
 What if I had, in an unguarded hour, 
 Forgotten mother's tenderness and love? 
 
54 OSHKOSH. 
 
 Would I be able backward now to look 
 
 With unstained cheek and eyes undimmed by tears, 
 
 Without a pang, without a heart-felt sigh, 
 
 A nameless yearning, and a deep regret?" 
 
 Useless the question, when he thinks of those 
 To whom the tempter came not all in vain; 
 He pictures to himself their ruined lives, 
 And feels within himself what might have been 
 Had not his mother's precepts been obeyed, 
 Had not his heart been yielded unto God, 
 Had not the beacon light of Christian faith 
 Illumed his pathway with resplendent ray. 
 He sees now what appeared unto him then 
 Misfortunes dread and hard to be endured, 
 To be but blessings in another form, 
 A means whereby a noble end was reached, 
 The lessons that must need be taught a soul 
 To fit it for the presence of its God. 
 
 Thus gazing back along the path of life, 
 Nor seeing aught to cause him a regret, 
 And looking out into the Great Beyond 
 With thoughts of loved ones who have gone before^ 
 Feeling that he can meet them, all unstained 
 By contact with a sinful, sordid world, 
 There must, perforce, steal into such a heart 
 A peace which to describe all words are vain, 
 
JESUS IS CALLING. 55 
 
 A peace than which no greater can be felt 
 Until a soul, freed from its earthy mold, 
 Its journey ended in the Infinite, 
 Shall rest within the bosom of its God. 
 
 JESUS IS CALLING. 
 
 Jesus is calling to thee to-day, 
 
 Is calling, is calling to-day ; 
 Jesus is calling to thee to-day, 
 
 Is calling, is calling to-day ; 
 Come, O soul, by thy sin oppressed, 
 Lay thy head on His gentle breast ! 
 Weary sinner, He bids thee rest, — 
 He bids thee rest. 
 
 Cho. — Come, rest in the peace of the Saviour's love; 
 Come, rest in the peace of the Saviour's love ; 
 Come, rest in the peace of the Saviour's love ; 
 He's waiting to welcome thee. 
 
 Jesus is calling to thee to-day, 
 
 Is calling, is calling to-day; 
 Jesus is calling to thee to-day, 
 
 Is calling, is calling to-day; 
 Sweet His voice to the weary ear, 
 Words of calm in the night of fear, 
 " Peace, be still," for the Saviour's near, — 
 The Saviour's near. 
 
56 OSHKOSH. 
 
 TAKE THEM BACK. 
 
 Take them back, the sad mementos 
 
 Of a friendship that is past; 
 'Twas a friendship cherished fondly, 
 
 Far too fondly e'er to last. 
 Take them back; they pain me now; 
 Take them back, oh, take them back ! 
 
 Not in anger do I ask it ; 
 
 Only this, they were received 
 When I thought true friendship lasting. 
 
 When I thought ne'er to be grieved 
 By one word or act of yours ; 
 Take them back, oh, take them back ! 
 
 Take them back and place them where they 
 May remind of what has been ; 
 
 They may serve, perhaps, a warning 
 From a soul now sunk in sin, 
 
 That strove hard while friends were kind; 
 
 Take them back, oh, take them back ! 
 
 When death comes with cold embraces, 
 Stills for aye this ceaseless pain 
 
 Which you left behind at parting, 
 Burdening both heart and brain, 
 
 I'll receive them; but, till then, 
 
 Take them back, oh, take them back ! 
 
LAWRENCE. 57 
 
 It is near; I do not fear it; 
 
 Soon I'll find a sweet relief 
 Fi*om the bitterness you caused me — 
 
 There will be an end of grief. 
 Give them back, then, if you will ; 
 Give them back, yes, give them back. 
 
 LINES TO MY SISTER JULIA. 
 
 I bring thee flowers that breathe my love 
 What more can now be given ? 
 
 Though they be fair, yet fairer still 
 Thy crown of life in heaven. 
 
 LAWRENCE. 
 
 Air: "America." 
 
 [Written for the annual fall-term reception of Lawrence University.] 
 
 Dear Lawrence, here we meet 
 With eager hearts to greet 
 
 Our friends to-night; 
 Here, where each hand grasps hand, 
 An earnest Christian band, 
 Resolved to nobly stand 
 
 For God and right. 
 
58 OSHKOSH. 
 
 We'll pledge ourselves anew 
 E'er to continue true 
 
 To ties of old. 
 Strangers a welcome kind 
 We'll give with loyal mind, 
 E'er may they Lawrence find 
 
 A pleasant fold. 
 
 Let knowledge here be sought, 
 And ev'ry noble thought 
 
 Be cherished dear, 
 That Ign'rance, put to flight, 
 May ne'er oppose the Right, 
 But Wisdom in its might 
 
 For aye appear. 
 
 Dear Lawrence, noble, grand. 
 Long may thy gray walls stand 
 
 In stately pride. 
 Long may thy halls resound 
 With laughter's joyous sound, 
 And jollity abound, 
 
 With God, our Guide. 
 
 OUR HOME IN HEAVEN. 
 
 Tune: "Sweet By and By." 
 
 Through the mists of the future I see 
 
 A bright world free from sorrow and care, 
 
 Where the weary ones gladly may flee 
 From their toil to sweet rest over there. 
 
LINES TO A FRIEND. $g 
 
 Cho. — Over there, over there ; 
 
 We shall rest, sweetly rest over there. 
 
 If we strive to live righteously here, 
 And by faith truly seek for His love, 
 
 When the close of our life draweth near. 
 We shall praise Him in mansions above. 
 
 When we stand on that beautiful shore, 
 And from all earthly cares sweetly rest, 
 
 We shall meet our loved friends gone before. 
 While we join in the songs of the blest. 
 
 In that beautiful city of gold. 
 
 Where the trials of life never come. 
 
 He will gather us into His fold, 
 
 While He lovingly welcomes us home. 
 
 LINES TO A FRIEND. 
 
 You have been very kind to me, my friend. 
 Nor can I e'er forget your tenderness 
 And love. Your words unto my aching heart 
 Have proved a balm, and brought me peace and hope 
 Of quick relief. When sad, you were the source 
 Of joy. With mild rebuke my waywardness 
 You checked, and by your own pure life showed me 
 My frailties and the path that I should tread. 
 
6o OSHKOSH. 
 
 Until I clasped your hand I did not know 
 What friendship meant. I thought it but a word, 
 Expressive of a close acquaintance, vague 
 Of import, or an empty term used by 
 The sentimental and such persons, who, 
 For private ends, claim close companionship 
 With those from whom by flattery they seek 
 To gain a favor. You have freed my mind 
 From such an error, and have wrought in me 
 An overwhelming and most pleasing change. 
 Your acts and words have taught me faith in man, 
 A faith almost destroyed by contact with 
 A world whose selfish motives oft are hid 
 Behind the veil of friendship. 
 
 Still at times 
 Your kindness pains me; but 'tis when there comes 
 Regret for truant acts, and when I feel 
 A consciousness of my unworthiness. 
 Bear with me for a time and let me strive 
 To pay the debt of gratitude I owe; 
 Perhaps I may return, at least in part, 
 What I've received from your beneficence. 
 
 A VISION. 
 
 As I sit here in the gloaming, 
 And my thoughts seem to be roaming 
 To that shore 
 
A VISION. 6 1 
 
 Where our loved ones wait to meet us, 
 Where with outstretched hands they'll greet us, 
 • Earth life o'er, 
 
 Seems a numbness stealing o'er me; 
 Ghostly forms now troop before me 
 
 Clothed in white; 
 Softly as a zephyr blowing, 
 Is their coming, is their going, — 
 
 Blessed sight. 
 
 Little children skipping lightly, 
 With their faces glowing brightly 
 
 In their play; 
 Men and women of all ages, 
 'Mong them all the world's great sages 
 
 Passed away; 
 
 Friends who in my childhood left me, 
 Friends whose later loss bereft me, 
 
 All are there; 
 They seem neither sad nor tearful. 
 All are happy, all are cheerful, 
 
 Free from care. 
 
 As they pass they stop to meet me ; 
 With a smile the}^ warmly greet me 
 
 As of yore; 
 And, departing, seek to cheer me 
 With the promise to be near me 
 
 Evermore. 
 
62 OSHKOSH. 
 
 Thus they leave me, and their places 
 Soon are filled by other faces 
 
 Strange to me; 
 Still I gaze, for, 'mid the thronging, 
 There is one for whom I'm longing 
 
 Anxiously; 
 
 One who in my youth caressed me, 
 Who oft to her bosom pressed me 
 
 O'er and o'er; 
 She who listened to my chatter, 
 Taught my little feet to patter 
 
 O'er the floor; 
 
 She who soothed my angry passion 
 In her tender, kindly fashion, 
 
 By her love; 
 While, with ever-watchful care, she 
 Made my young life happy ere she 
 
 Passed above. 
 
 Fast away the time is fleeting, 
 And my happy heart is beating 
 
 Quickly now; 
 Soon I'll feel her kind embraces, 
 As a kiss she gently places 
 
 On my brow. 
 
VACANT STANDS HER LITTLE CHAIR. 63 
 
 Now, amidst a light that faintly 
 Falls upon a form so saintly, 
 
 She appears; 
 And a love beyond all measure, 
 Lightens all her face with pleasure 
 
 As she nears. 
 
 Lovingly my life she blesses, 
 While my hand she kindly presses 
 
 With her own ; 
 Bids me meet her up in heaven. 
 Where the crown of life is given 
 
 Near the throne. 
 
 Then she turns and slowly leaves me, 
 And, although it sorely grieves me, 
 
 Passes on; 
 From my sight her form has vanished, 
 And the glorious vision's banished 
 
 And is gone. 
 
 VACANT STANDS HER LITTLE CHAIR. 
 
 Since within the grave we laid her, 
 Happiness from home has flown; 
 
 Life seems strangely dark and dreary, 
 And the days have longer grown ; 
 
64 OSHKOSH. 
 
 For the one we loved has left us, 
 
 And our life is full of care; 
 Angels came and claimed our darling — 
 
 Vacant stands her little chair. 
 
 Cho. — When our life on earth is ended, 
 And we reach that land so fair, 
 Not one face will then be missing ; 
 There will be no vacant chair. 
 
 In the corner stands the cradle, 
 
 Where our precious darling lay. 
 Where she often sweetly slumbered. 
 
 Ere she passed from earth away ; 
 Close beside her shoes are lying, — 
 
 Little shoes she used to wear ; 
 But the angels claimed our darling — 
 
 Vacant stands her little chair. 
 
 As we sadly gaze upon them, 
 
 Burning tears will dim our eyes; 
 And our thoughts fly to the church-yard, 
 
 Where her form of beauty lies. 
 We have still her little dresses. 
 
 And a lock of golden hair; 
 But the angels claimed our darling — 
 
 Vacant stands her little chair. 
 
FAREWELL FOREVERMORE. 6$ 
 
 And the rooms through which she pattered 
 
 In her merry, childish play- 
 Seem so dreary, cold, and silent, 
 
 Since our darling went away. 
 How we miss our precious baby, 
 
 Little maid so young and fair; 
 For the angels claimed our darling — 
 
 Vacant stands her little chair ! 
 
 But we must not mourn her absence, 
 
 For God willed that it should be; 
 So we'll try to bear the burden, 
 
 Until death shall set us free. 
 When our life on earth is ended. 
 
 We shall meet her over there; 
 For the angels claimed our darling — 
 
 Vacant stands her little chair. 
 
 FAREWELL FOREVERMORE. 
 
 Farewell, forevermore a sad farewell; 
 Not for an hour, nor for a day, nor year ; 
 Our parting now is for eternity. 
 The voice I loved no more will greet my ear ; 
 The smile that was as sunshine to my heart 
 Will nevermore illuminate my life; 
 The step I knew so well has passed and gone; 
 
66 OSHKOSH. 
 
 The presence that was all in all to me 
 Will come but as a specter of the past; 
 To soothe and comfort? — No; to haunt, to bring 
 Again to mind what I would fain forget; 
 What once was joy, recalled, will be but pain. 
 Could I from mem'ry blot the vanished years, 
 Then I could smile and live as I have lived, — 
 Alone — nor care for love of friends grown cold, 
 Whose hearts, perforce, must undergo a change, 
 As all things earthly soon or late must change; 
 But no — so long as life shall animate 
 This form, the cruel mem'ries of the past 
 Will sadden all the present, and deprive 
 Of ev'ry hope the hours that one by one 
 Sum up the great To Be. But I will not 
 Reproach, nor say one unkind word to mar 
 Your future happiness. I love you still, 
 And ever shall, I bow to your decree, 
 And write you now a last, long, sad farewell. 
 
 WAR MEMORIES. 
 
 Oh, sad were the sights that met my gaze, 
 As, the battle o'er, in those trying days, 
 I picked my way 'midst the heaps of slain, 
 Where the daisies grew with a crimson stain, 
 Where the life-tide ebbed from brave hearts, true 
 To the cause they loved! Some wore the blue; 
 
WAR MEMORIES. 6/ 
 
 Others, the gray. It mattered not now; 
 
 The seal of death was upon their brow. 
 
 Little recked they when the struggle would cease; 
 
 They slept the sleep of eternal peace. 
 
 The sound of strife they would hear no more; 
 
 For brothers were they on the silent shore. 
 
 I passed the forms of my comrades dead, 
 
 With a feeling of awe, a nameless dread. 
 
 Just here lay one with a look of pain, 
 
 His features marked by the powder stain; 
 
 A tear on his cheek had left its trace, 
 
 As it coursed its way down his manly face; 
 
 By his side lay a Bible, old and worn; 
 
 Yellow with age were its leaves, and torn. 
 
 I stooped and examined the title leaf; 
 
 There was the cause of this brave man's grief. 
 
 He who in battle had known no fear, 
 
 Had crawled, with neither a murmur nor tear. 
 
 Half dead with pain, through the noisome fen, 
 
 And stood the horrors of prison-pen. 
 
 Had melted at sight of the words that there 
 
 Remembrance brought of a mother's care. 
 
 The love of one who would wait in vain 
 
 To clasp her boy to her heart again. 
 
 I seemed as if in a fearful dream, 
 
 As thus I passed to the purling stream, 
 
6S OSHKOSH. 
 
 Where red the blood of the martyred brave 
 
 Had dyed the blue of the crystal wave. 
 
 I glanced around. In yon willow's shade 
 
 Two forms in their last, long sleep were laid. 
 
 One wore the gray; the other, the blue; 
 
 And each to the cause he loved was true. 
 
 They no longer the deadly rifle grasped; 
 
 In each other's arms they were tightly clasped, 
 
 While on each face was a look of love; 
 
 The angel of peace had hovered above, 
 
 When the dark-winged courier, Death, had come 
 
 With the fatal summons to bear them home. 
 
 And they were brothers, those heroes brave; 
 
 One sought to destroy; the other, to save; 
 
 One died 'neath the folds of the Stripes and Stars; 
 
 The other, upholding the Stars and Bars. 
 
 Though they fell in hate by the rushing tide, 
 
 Though long were estranged, they brothers died. 
 
 WHAT RIGHT HAVE YE? 
 
 What right have ye to murmur, if 
 A cloud perchance appears 
 
 To dim the blue horizon of 
 Thy hopes by passing fears? 
 
WHAT RIGHT HAVE YE? 69 
 
 What right have ye to question aught 
 
 The wisdom of thy God, 
 If 'tis His will that ye should pass 
 
 Beneath the chast'ning rod? 
 
 What right have ye to sorrow for 
 
 Those hopes unrealized ? 
 Though lost, why should ye shed a tear 
 
 For treasures that ye prized ? 
 
 What though thy castles, built of air, 
 
 In hopeless ruins lie? 
 Think ye that structures frail as these 
 
 Are even worth a sigh? 
 
 Oh, be ye not so soon o'erwhelmed 
 
 By trifling griefs like these! 
 Once more resolve; they vanish all 
 
 Like clouds before the breeze. 
 
 Mount upward on thy blasted hopes, 
 
 And be discouraged never; 
 For failure ye shall never know, 
 
 If ye will but endeavor. 
 
 Let this thy motto be through life, 
 
 And e'er give it assertion: 
 " Whatever's worth the striving for 
 
 Is worth each new exertion." 
 
•JO OSHKOSH. 
 
 TRUST IN THE SAVIOUR. 
 
 Tune: "Fly Like a Bird to Yon Mountain." 
 
 Place all thy hopes in the Saviour; 
 
 Trustingly cling to His side, 
 Ye who are burdened with sorrow, 
 
 Ye who are tempted and tried ; 
 Greater His love than all other, 
 E'en that of sister or brother, 
 E'en that of father or mother, — 
 
 There ye may safely abide. 
 
 Feel ye forsaken and lonely? 
 
 Go then commune with a Friend, 
 One who will ne'er disappoint you, 
 
 One who will never offend ; 
 E'er with His eyes He will guide thee; 
 Safe from all harm He will hide thee ; 
 Whatever sorrow betide thee. 
 
 He will His Comforter send. 
 
 Find ye life's pathway fatiguing? 
 
 Many the snares for thy feet? 
 Place first thy trust in the Saviour, 
 
 Dare then thy foemen to meet ; 
 Think of His promise ; 'twill nerve thee 
 E'en in despair it will serve thee ; 
 Nothing in battle can swerve thee; 
 
 Vict'ry will then be complete. 
 
THE PHANTOM BRIDE. 7 1 
 
 THE PHANTOM BRIDE. 
 
 When the shadows of midnight gather gray 
 
 O'er the waters of Lake Buttes des Morts,* 
 And the night winds faintly murm'ring sway 
 
 The rushes along the shore, 
 When the rustle of leaves in the forest near 
 Is the only sound that greets the ear, 
 Comes the spectral form o( the spirit bride, 
 In her light canoe, o'er the silent tide, 
 
 With a song of love so tender and low, 
 To the spot where the waters forever hide 
 
 Her murdered chief in their depths below. 
 
 In vain she appeals to the sleeping brave, 
 
 Who rests for aye 'neath the surging tide; 
 No reply comes up from that chilling grave. 
 
 No form of a lover steals to her side. 
 A frail form leaps from that phantom bark, 
 And sinks with a moan 'neath the waters dark. 
 Which stifle forever that anguished cry ; 
 The night winds pass with a murmured sigh ; 
 
 The billows sweep on in resistless flight, 
 While the owl's weird hoot in the forest nigh 
 
 Disturbs the peace of the somber night. 
 
 Buttes des Morts (Bute da More)— Hills of the Dead. 
 
72 OSHKOSH. 
 
 Thus night after night repeats the scene 
 
 On Buttes des Morts' waves near the leafy wood, 
 Where the lone pine tree towers grand and green, 
 
 The last of a beauteous sisterhood; 
 And the air is pierced by that mournful cry. 
 Which is borne on the breeze as it passes by ; 
 And that plaintive song, and the long-drawn wail, 
 And the form of the Indian maiden pale, 
 
 As she nightly glides o'er Buttes des Morts' wave, 
 Still ever repeat the true-love tale 
 
 Of the spirit bride and her murdered brave. 
 
 OLD PHOENIX HOME. 
 
 Tune: "Hold the Fort." 
 [Written for the Phoenix Literary Society of Lawrence University.] 
 
 Welcome, our Phoenician brothers. 
 
 Welcome one and all ; 
 Glad are we again to gather 
 
 In old Phcenix Hall. 
 
 Cho. — Welcome, our Phoenician brothers ; 
 Grasp each other's hand, 
 Knowing that we fall, divided. 
 But, united, stand. 
 
 We have missed those cheerful faces. 
 
 Beaming with delight. 
 That were wont to grace old Phoenix 
 
 On each Friday night. 
 
IN AFTER YEARS. 
 
 We have missed our old friend, Virgil, 
 
 Ev'ry student's joy; 
 • Cajtens flammam castce Didus 
 For the Prince of Troy. 
 
 We have rendered unto Caesar 
 
 Things that Caesar's are, 
 Since our last examination 
 
 Parvo ftiit par. 
 
 Let us sing a song of gladness 
 That shall reach the dome; 
 
 We are back again at Lawrence, 
 In our Phoenix home. 
 
 Raise, Phoenicians, raise your voices; 
 
 Join us, one and all, 
 With a cheer three times repeated 
 
 For old Phoenix Hall. 
 
 71 
 
 IN AFTER YEARS. 
 
 Air: " A Thousand Years." 
 
 [Written for the Phoenix Literary Society of Lawrence University.] 
 
 Lift up your voices, brave Phoenicians, 
 And lay aside all doubts and fears ; 
 
 Come, let us sing a song of gladness 
 To be recalled in after years. 
 
74 OSHKOSH. 
 
 Cho. — In after years, our own dear Phoenix, 
 Amid the conflicts of the world, 
 We'll sing again these songs of triumph, 
 And see the old white flag unfurled. 
 
 Though Livy bores with long recital 
 Of Carthage and her hostile spears, 
 
 We'll beat the sword into the plowshare, 
 There shall be peace in after years. 
 
 Though now our dreams are ever troubled. 
 And often Caesar's ghost appears. 
 
 Yet soon shall it be laid forever. 
 Ne'er to arise in after years. 
 
 Our work here lasts but for a moment; 
 
 The good wrought out in doubts and fears 
 Remains for aye a rich possession. 
 
 Which we shall prize in after years. 
 
 Twill be the Alpha and Omega 
 Of ev'ry joy, — away with tears, — 
 
 We'll laugh at college tribulations 
 Full many times in after years. 
 
 AT REST. 
 
 She sleeps in peace. Her life was one of long, 
 Continued suffering; yet she upbore 
 With patient fortitude her heavy cross. 
 
THE SOLDIERS GRAVE. 75 
 
 And, losing sight of self, with gentle mien 
 
 And kindly word, wiped from the cheek of those 
 
 She loved the bitter tear. She smoothed their path 
 
 On earth, and pointed out the way to heaven; 
 
 Her mission was to love. She labored well, 
 
 And God looked down from His resplendent throne, 
 
 And said, "Well done, " and gave His angels charge 
 
 To bear her from a life of earnest toil 
 
 To dwell forevermore in paradise. 
 
 THE SOLDIER'S GRAVE. 
 
 'Twas in those days when o'er our land 
 
 The war-clouds darkly rolled, 
 That by Antietam's swollen stream 
 
 With careless step I strolled. 
 My thoughts had flown to northern climes ; 
 
 I seemed to see again 
 The faces of those absent ones 
 
 For whom I longed in vain. 
 
 I saw again my cottage home; 
 
 The well-remembered hills, 
 The waving fields of rip'ning grain, 
 
 The clear and sparkling rills, 
 All formed a feature in the scene, 
 
 Which mem'ry's hand doth trace 
 In colors which can never fade, 
 
 Nor time can e'er erase. 
 
76 OSHKOSH. 
 
 Alas ! the waves of present thought 
 
 Surged o'er that passing dream ; 
 I stood once more with aching heart 
 
 Beside Antietam's stream, 
 While round me briers and brambles wild 
 
 From sight almost concealed 
 The spot where lay a comrade brave 
 
 Who fell upon the field. 
 
 There stood a head-board roughly hewn 
 
 To mark the lonely grave, 
 On which had carved, some comrade kind, 
 
 This tribute to the brave: 
 "He battled not for love of war, 
 
 Fought not for glory's crown; 
 For liberty his hand was raised 
 
 To strike the traitors down." 
 
 "He loved his country and his home, 
 
 And offered up his life 
 To free that land from traitor's rule, 
 
 And quell the civil strife; 
 Then ever honored be his name; 
 
 No heart e'er beat more true 
 Than that which beat with patriot fire 
 
 Beneath his coat of blue." 
 
THE SOLDIER S GRAVE. J J 
 
 I turned away; my heart was sad; 
 
 I plucked some wild flowers near, 
 And strewed them o'er that lonely mound, 
 
 Where slept a comrade dear. 
 I thought of those he left behind. 
 
 Who ne'er would see again 
 The face of one they dearly loved, 
 
 But look for him in vain. 
 
 And kneeling o'er that lonely mound, 
 
 I gave to God a prayer 
 To guard them with a loving hand, 
 
 And give them strength to bear 
 The grief, alas ! that would be theirs. 
 
 As time flew on apace. 
 And brought no tidings of the lost 
 
 Nor sight of his dear face. 
 
 Though more than twenty years have passed 
 
 Since I those lines have read. 
 Since I with love and rev'rence strewed 
 
 Those wild flowers o'er the dead, 
 Yet still I see that lonely mound, 
 
 By weeds and briers o'ergrovvn, 
 Where lies a comrade of the blue 
 
 Unhonored and unknown. 
 
78 OSHKOSH. 
 
 THE DEAD PAST. 
 
 Yearn not for the joys of thy once happy childhood, 
 Though dark be thy Hfe, and though clouded thy 
 skies ; 
 
 Not in the dead past, with its store of sad mem'ries, 
 But in the bright future true happiness lies. 
 
 Why sigh for the past when the future will bring you 
 To those whom you love and for whom you now 
 yearn ? 
 
 Sad heart, would you give all the blessings of heaven 
 For one fleeting hour of thy childhood's return? 
 
 Those whom you now mourn with such sincere 
 affection, 
 
 Who long since have passed to their dwelling above, 
 Now live in the bright, blessed radiance of heaven. 
 
 And wait for thy coming with tenderest love. 
 
 The joys of the past, if we try to recall them. 
 Will bring but a train of sad mem'ries to pain; 
 
 'Twere better those dead years lay buried forever — 
 In the grave which now hides them, oh, let them 
 remain ! 
 
WE SHALL MEET IN THAT BEAUTIFUL LAND. 79 
 
 WE SHALL MEET IN THAT BEAUTIFUL 
 LAND. 
 
 Erelong we shall meet in that beautiful land 
 
 All those who have passed o'er the tide ; 
 Shall meet and shall know them, to part nevermore, 
 
 Safe anchored at last by their side. 
 Oh, the thought of that meeting in bright realms 
 above, 
 
 So grand it seems almost a dream ! 
 There we shall be free from life's sorrows and cares, 
 
 And love shall reign ever supreme. 
 
 Cho. — They're waiting for us on that evergreen shore* 
 Are waiting to welcome us home; 
 Soon o'er the cold tide we shall reach their 
 
 loved side, 
 No more through life's darkness to roam. 
 
 Our bark is now plowing the rough sea of life, 
 
 While fiercely the mad breakers roar ; 
 The rocks of temptation, the whirlpool of sin, 
 
 Are raging 'twixt us and the shore ; 
 Yet we will not despair, for now breaks on our sight 
 
 A light from that beautiful land, 
 A beacon to guide us safe over the tide — 
 
 Heaven's port is now almost at hand. 
 
80 OSHKOSH. 
 
 Soon the dark waves of life will dash o'er us no more ; 
 
 Soon the waters be peaceful and still ; 
 Soon we shall behold that fair land of bright flowers , 
 
 And quaff from its clear-flowing rills. 
 Soon into the harbor of refuge we'll glide, 
 
 And our dangerous journey be o'er, 
 While our dearest ones greet us with kindness and 
 love, 
 
 As we land on that beautiful shore. 
 
 A PRAYER FOR OBEDIENCE TO GOD. 
 
 My Father, tell me what Thou hast 
 
 Ordained for me to do ; 
 Point out the path that I must tread, 
 
 And teach me to be true. 
 
 Should mine be some herculean toil 
 
 That Thou hast set Thy son. 
 May I accept the sacred trust, 
 
 And hear at last, '' Well done." 
 
 Should mine be less important work 
 
 In the great world's advance, 
 May I, my duty well achieved, 
 
 Meet Thy approving glance. 
 
OUT OF THE TOILS. 8 1 
 
 Is mine to fill a lowly place, 
 
 The least of all mankind, 
 Oh, grant I still may well perform 
 
 The task Thou hast assigned ! 
 
 Help me to ever act my part. 
 
 Obedient to Thy call, 
 E'er willing to do all Thou bidst, 
 
 Though it be great or small. 
 
 OUT OF THE TOILS. 
 
 Tune: "The Freedman's Song." 
 
 To-night I am free from the serpent of rum, 
 Which has held me so long in its coils ; 
 
 And my heart does gladly beat, 
 
 For, my friends, 'tis, oh, so sweet 
 
 Now to know that I'm saved from its toils ! 
 
 Cho. — Dear Father in heaven, watch Thou o'er me now, 
 For my footsteps are ever prone to stray; 
 While I'm climbing life's rough steep 
 A false step may plunge me deep 
 In the gulf of an endless misery. 
 6 
 
OSHKOSH. 
 
 With a shudder I think of the first glass I quaffed ; 
 
 I saw not the serpent lurking there, 
 Ere it gave the fatal wound; 
 There was heard no warning sound 
 
 To forbid my approaching its lair. 
 
 How well I remember the fair hand that raised 
 The poison to my lips with a smile! 
 
 Ah ! how little e'er she thought 
 
 Of the woful change she wrought 
 
 In this heart, then, alas ! free from guile. 
 
 My dear, aged parents no longer now weep ; 
 
 Wife and children no more suffer pain; 
 With God's help, instead of blows, 
 I will give them food and clothes — 
 
 The destroyer of home has been slain. 
 
 THE AGE OF REASON. 
 
 When this world awakes to reason, 
 
 Shall the worth of man be told, 
 Not by jewels and silken garments, 
 
 Nor the glitter of his gold, 
 But by noble deeds of kindness, 
 
 Actions pure and free from sin ; 
 Then shall ev'ry wrong be righted — 
 
 Right shall conquer, truth shall win. 
 
LINES TO A SORROWING FRIEND. 83 
 
 Then no more shall kings and princes, 
 
 Men of wealth and titled name, 
 Claim the homage of the people, 
 
 While they live a life of shame ; 
 Then no more shall they be honored, 
 
 As the foremost of their time, 
 While their hearts are black as midnight, 
 
 And their souls are steeped in crime. 
 
 When this world shall wake to reason, 
 
 He who struggles for the right, 
 Down whose pathway deeds of kindness 
 
 Cast their rays of golden light; 
 He who speaketh words of comfort. 
 
 Hearts to cheer when dark the days, 
 Shall receive the people's blessings. 
 
 And the world's unstinted praise. 
 
 LINES TO A SORROWING FRIEND. 
 
 When dark the clouds lower overhead, 
 
 And lonely hours oppress, 
 When your repining heart implores 
 
 Surcease from its distress. 
 When friends in time of need seem few, 
 Then think of me — I think of you. 
 
84 OSHKOSH. 
 
 1 am not careless of your life; 
 
 You have been kind to me; 
 Now, in return, I wish you joy, 
 
 And may there ever be 
 Within your heart the sweetest peace, 
 And may your blessings never cease. 
 
 I know your heart has yearned for love, 
 And found not what it sought ; 
 
 I know the sadness thus begot, 
 The fearful battle fought, 
 
 When that you felt the cruel pain 
 
 Of love by none returned again. 
 
 Yet do not yield to aught of grief, 
 The sky will soon be fair ; 
 
 As clouds that veil the noonday sun, 
 Is each corroding care ; 
 
 A moment is the shadow cast ; 
 
 A moment and the shade is past. 
 
 You know wherein your duty lies ; 
 
 You have the strength to do ; 
 Subdue that mad, rebellious heart, 
 
 And teach it to be true ; 
 Though you must pass beneath the rod, 
 Be true to self, be true to God. 
 
A DREARY DAY. 85 
 
 My eye is ever on your path ; 
 
 May it ne'er swerve from right; 
 To view defeat will grieve me sore ; 
 
 Each vict'ry will delight. 
 Then let that friendship vowed to me 
 Be proven by your purity. 
 
 A DREARY DAY. 
 
 The day is dark, and clouds obscure 
 From sight the azure skies ; 
 
 No ray of light can pierce the night 
 Of gloom that round me lies. 
 
 Dame Nature hides her smiling face, 
 And grieves for bright days past, 
 
 While on the eaves the falling leaves 
 Are scattered by the blast. 
 
 And e'en the merry birds have ceased 
 Their warble and their trill ; 
 
 No more I hear their notes of cheer 
 From wood, and field, and hill. 
 
 The mountain stream sweeps swiftly on 
 
 To join the sounding sea, 
 Whose raging surge a mournful dirge 
 
 From far bears unto me. 
 
S6 OSHKOSH. 
 
 A dirge for those who sailed from port, 
 While wind and wave were fair, 
 
 Who ne'er came back o'er stormy track 
 To those who loved them there. 
 
 My life is sad, and cold, and drear; 
 
 No guiding star I see 
 To light the way with silver ray 
 
 Through life's tempestuous sea. 
 
 But, lo! a voice breaks on my ear, 
 
 And bids me not repine ; 
 The darkest day will pass away, 
 
 The sun again will shine. 
 
 And at the sound I upward gaze; 
 
 Behold ! the cloud now breaks ; 
 The sun shines bright with golden light; 
 
 The earth to life awakes. 
 
 The birds renew their tangled lays ; 
 
 Their little hearts are glad ; 
 The flowers so sweet the sunlight greet, 
 
 How can my heart be sad ? 
 
 And with the thought the star of hope, 
 Through shadows dark as night, 
 
 Gives forth its ray to light the way — 
 I hail the welcome light. 
 
SOMEBODY. 87 
 
 Ye doubting ones, who sit and grieve, 
 
 Look on the brightest side ; 
 Though dark the day, 'twill pass away ; 
 
 The clouds the sun but hide. 
 
 And when they shall have been dispelled, 
 
 The sun will shine again ; 
 And e'en its gleam will brighter seem 
 
 For shadows that have been. 
 
 SOMEBODY. 
 
 Somebody waits in the twilight, 
 
 Waits in the gloaming for me ; 
 Soon I shall meet that somebody, 
 
 Down by the old willow tree. 
 True is the heart of somebody, 
 
 Beating so tender for me, 
 Anxiously waiting my coming 
 
 Down by the old willow tree. 
 
 Cho. — Who can that somebody be? 
 Who can that somebody be ? 
 Somebody waits in the gloaming; 
 Who can that somebody be ? 
 
88 OSHKOSH. 
 
 Bright are the eyes of somebody, 
 
 Looking and longing for me ; 
 Soon they will smile me a greeting 
 
 Down by the old willow tree. 
 Soft are the arms of somebody ; 
 
 Oft they have twined around me ; 
 Soon I shall feel their embracing 
 
 Down by the old willow tree. 
 
 Sweet are the lips of somebody, 
 
 Prettily pouting at me ; 
 Soon they will kiss me a welcome 
 
 Down by the old willow tree. 
 Fair are the cheeks of somebody, 
 
 Blushing so lovely for me ; 
 Soon they'll be laid on my shoulder 
 
 Down by the old willow tree. 
 
 Quick are the ears of somebody, 
 
 List'ning impatient for me ; 
 Soon they shall hear a sweet story, 
 
 Down by the old willow tree. 
 Low are the words of somebody, 
 
 Telling their secret to me ; 
 Soon the sweet " yes " will be whispered 
 
 Down by the old willow tree. 
 
WAU-WEE-TEE, THE SPIRIT QUEEN. 89 
 
 WAU-WEE-TEE, THE SPIRIT QUEEN. 
 
 [A legend of Island Park, in Lake Winnebago.] 
 
 Years ago the wily red man 
 
 Roamed in peace beside the shore 
 Of the placid Winnebago, 
 
 Which, before his wigwam door. 
 Sparkled brightly in the sunshine, 
 
 Kissed the beach, that loved it well, 
 Tinkled softly in the moonlight. 
 
 As the wavelets rose and fell. 
 On its bosom slept an island, 
 
 Green embowered with bush and tree, 
 Whereon dwelt an aged chieftain, 
 
 And his daughter, Wau-wee-tee; 
 Dwelt in peace, and dwelt in safety, 
 
 She, the fairest of her race, 
 Worshiped for her goodly wisdom, 
 
 And her cheerful, smiling face. 
 
 One bright morning in the summer. 
 
 When the birds sang overhead, 
 Called the aged Indian chieftain 
 
 All the wise men to his bed; 
 With the wisdom of a prophet. 
 
 Told his people when the sun 
 Left the earth in total darkness. 
 
 That his spirit would be gone; 
 
90 OSHKOSH. 
 
 That the Manitou would give them, 
 
 Both in war and peace to guide, 
 Wau-wee-tee, the Indian maiden, 
 
 She, the dying chieftain's pride; 
 Told them, when the midnight darkness 
 
 O'er the sun thrice drew its screen, 
 From the south would evil spirits 
 
 Come to claim their Spirit Queen; 
 That the Manitou in anger 
 
 Would the evil spirits slay; 
 And, foretelling of the future, 
 
 Thus the chieftain passed away. 
 
 On the third day, when the darkness 
 
 Covered over land and sea, 
 Strange canoes were seen approaching 
 
 The island home of Wau- wee-tee. 
 She escaped unto the mainland 
 
 In her light birch-bark canoe, 
 Where dwelt there in peace her people, 
 
 Who to Wau-wee-tee were true; 
 And the Manitou in anger 
 
 Sent a cloud of darkest hue, 
 Driven by a mighty tempest, 
 
 And the evil spirits slew. 
 When above the silv'ry waters, 
 
 Where once dwelt the aged chief, 
 The sun arose again in splendor. 
 
 It revealed a sunken reef. 
 
WAU-WEE-TEE, THE SPIRIT QUEEN. 9 1 
 
 That was all that marked the presence 
 
 Of the home of Wau-wee-tee, 
 For the tempest in its fury 
 
 Had submerged it in the sea. 
 
 Then again the aged chieftain 
 
 Glided through the forest green, 
 And, appearing in a vision. 
 
 Thus addressed the Spirit Queen: 
 "Go ye to the great Capoli,* 
 
 Rising high above the waves, 
 Whose green shores are guarded by the 
 
 Spirits of departed braves." 
 And she did as he had bid her, 
 
 Ruled for years the tribes around, 
 Till the Manitou removed her 
 
 To the happy hunting-ground. 
 On the shores of the Capoli, 
 
 Smiling in its verdure green, 
 There her tribe laid her in splendor. 
 
 As became their Spirit Queen. 
 On the night of her interment, 
 
 O'er her grave a storm arose; 
 And the spirits from the waters 
 
 Placed a rock o'er her repose; 
 While, for many years, her people 
 
 On her mound of tender green 
 Laid peace-off'rings to their idol, 
 
 Wau-wee-tee, the Spirit Queen. 
 
 * Indian god-island. 
 
92 OSHKOSH. 
 
 OUR BRAVE BOYS IN BLUE, 
 
 Air: "The Red, White, and Blue." 
 
 The rebels Fort Sumter were storming, 
 
 And treason was flaunting in glee; 
 Secession's battalions were forming 
 
 To humble the Stars of the free; 
 But up sprung each brave Northern ranger; 
 
 The swords of their fathers they drew; 
 When Freedom's fair land was in danger, 
 
 Twas saved by our brave boys in blue. 
 
 Cho. — 'Twas saved by our brave boys in blue; 
 'Twas saved by our brave boys in blue; 
 When Feeedom's fair land was in danger, 
 'Twas saved by our brave boys in blue. 
 
 When foes sought our land's desolation, 
 
 Brave hearts of the North remained true; 
 And vowed that the foul rag of treason 
 
 Should lower to the Red, White, and Blue; 
 And e'er in the midst of war's rattle, 
 
 Though smoke hid their forms from our vieW; 
 Each gun seemed to echo in battle 
 
 The oath of our brave boys in blue. 
 
 Cho. — The oath of our brave boys in blue; 
 The oath of our brave boys in blue; 
 Each gun seemed to echo in battle 
 The oath of our brave boys in blue. 
 
DESPAIR. 93 
 
 The whole world to-day knows the story, 
 
 How well fought those warriors of old, 
 On many a battle-field gory, 
 
 Our Stripes and bright Stars to uphold. 
 In prison damps bribes were unheeded; 
 
 To their country those heroes were true; 
 Though they suffered, thank God, they succeeded — 
 
 Hurrah for our brave boys in blue! 
 
 Cho. — Hurrah for our brave boys in blue! 
 Hurrah for our brave boys in blue! 
 Though they suffered, thank God, they suc- 
 ceeded; 
 Hurrah for our brave boys in blue! 
 
 DESPAIR. 
 
 Alone! alone! all, all alone upon 
 The surging billows of a fretful sea. 
 Alone! alone! while o'er me break the dark, 
 Tempestuous waves of a neglected life. 
 No calm, no light, no gentle voice to say 
 Unto the troubled waters, " Peace, be still;" 
 No hand to guide the helm ; no one to give 
 Advice in th' hour of dread uncertainty. 
 Above, beneath, and all around me naught 
 Except the dread impenetrable gloom 
 Of dark despair. No hope of reaching port ; 
 
94 OSHKOSH. 
 
 No hope of clasping once again the hand 
 
 Of those I love. With anxious eyes, in vain 
 
 They'll watch expectant for my wayward bark ; 
 
 But it will never, never come in sight. 
 
 By adverse winds far driven from my course, 
 
 I nevermore may hope to reach the track 
 
 Of vessels homeward bound. Hope lost, there naught 
 
 Awaits me now save what the hopeless e'en 
 
 May hope, and zvitJwiit disappomtment, — death. 
 
 A MAN'S BEST FRIEND IS HIS DOLLAR. 
 
 [A song of the times.] 
 
 Go roam through the world from the east to the west; 
 Go traverse the valley, ascend the high crest; 
 Go North or go South, where it pleases your mind; 
 Oh, go where you will, you will none the less find 
 That a man's best friend is his dollar ! 
 
 Cho. — Oh, a man's best friend is his dollar ! 
 Oh, a man's best friend is his dollar! 
 
 In weal or in woe, 
 
 Where'er he may go, 
 A man's best friend is his dollar. 
 
A MAN S BEST FRIEND IS HIS DOLLAR. 95 
 
 With pocket well filled with the " promise to pay," 
 Which Uncle Sam writes in his own unique way, 
 You'll find without doubt that wherever you roam 
 There's always a welcome, and always a home. 
 For a man's best friend is his dollar. 
 
 If money is plenty, fling care to the breeze ; 
 Go say what you will, and go do what you please; 
 A purse full of dollars will free you from blame, 
 Will whitewash your character, give you good name. 
 Oh, a man's best friend is his dollar ! 
 
 Among the Arabians, the Japs, Siamese, 
 The Persians, the Turks, or the heathen Chinese, 
 The Russians, the Germans, the Englishmen, Swedes, 
 Among ev'ry people, whatever their creeds, 
 There a man's best friend is his dollar. 
 
 Now this is the case with us mortals below, 
 But in the hereafter it will not be so ; 
 Good deeds are the coins you will find current then. 
 No longer the "scrip" worshiped here among men, 
 Where a man's best friend is his dollar. 
 
 Come, take my advice and your treasures lay by 
 Where moths corrupt not, and where thieves do not 
 
 Your entrance to heaven depends on your worth ; 
 Saint Peter's not bribed as are men upon earth, 
 Where a man's best friend is his dollar. 
 
96 OSHKOSH. 
 
 DELORA. 
 
 Oft have I stood by the purling stream, 
 'Neath the leafy shade of the forest tree, 
 Where warbled the birds in their merry glee, 
 
 And watched with pleasure the golden gleam 
 Of the waning sun, as it sunk to rest 
 Behind yon hill that towers in the west. 
 
 That rises just west of Azora; 
 
 Azora, whose waves of peaceful blue 
 Ripple gaily along the pebbly shore. 
 While they whisper low of the days of yore, 
 
 Recalling to mind one whom I knew, 
 One whom I watched as she gamboled free, 
 As she laughed aloud in her childish glee. 
 
 My fair-haired darling, Delora. 
 
 But ten short summers of added bloom 
 Had deftly imprinted its beauty there 
 On the face and form of that elfin fair, 
 
 When cruelly dark yawned the silent tomb. 
 And I missed the form I was wont to see, 
 And the merry laughter of childish glee, 
 
 The innocent glee of Delora. 
 
 My heart is sad, for 'neath yonder mound, 
 Now almost kissed by the murm'ring stream, 
 Tinged fair with the glow of the sunset gleam, 
 
LINES TO MOTHER. 
 
 9; 
 
 Where the wildwood flowers in beauty abound, 
 Lies the slender form of that fair young maid; 
 Yet never shall out from my mem'ry fade 
 
 The remembrance sweet of Delora. 
 
 LINES TO MOTHER. 
 
 [Written by request on the death of Mrs. A, M. Bowen, of Appleton, Wis. 
 which occurred June 15, 1891.] 
 
 Mother, rest ! Thy pain and sorrow, 
 
 All thy cares of life are o'er ; 
 Henceforth sweet shall be thy slumber ; 
 
 Fevered dreams disturb no more. 
 
 He who gave again has taken, 
 
 And we bid a fond farewell, 
 Knowing, though His ways are hidden, 
 
 That He doeth all things well. 
 
 He who careth for His children, 
 Plainly sees where we are blind; 
 
 And, if known, what seemeth cruel 
 Would but prove our Father kind. 
 
 Though our hearts are sad at parting, 
 
 Yet we pass beneath the rod, 
 Trusting in our Saviour's goodness, 
 
 In the wisdom of our God. 
 
98 OSHKOSH. 
 
 Soon we'll meet again, dear mother, 
 In that home of perfect peace, 
 
 Where death enters not the portal. 
 Where all cares and troubles cease. 
 
 Soon the ties that now are broken 
 Will be joined for aye above, 
 
 And we'll bask within the sunshine 
 Of a mother's boundless love, 
 
 Where the weary cease from labor, 
 Where no parting e'er shall be, 
 
 Where love reigns in sweetest concord 
 Throughout all eternity. 
 
 THE CAMP-FIRE. 
 
 [Written for a camp-fire held at Oshkosh, Wis., by the Philip H. Sheridan 
 Post, No. 10, G. A. R.] 
 
 You meet to-night, you comrades brave. 
 While in the breeze above you wave 
 
 The emblems of the free, 
 And proudly wave, as on that day 
 You marched to meet the Southern gray, 
 
 And fought for Liberty. 
 
THE CAMP-FIRE. 99 
 
 You meet to sing again the song 
 
 That cheered you as you marched along 
 
 For miles through mud and mire; 
 To tell of deeds of valor done, 
 Of battles fought and vict'ries won, 
 
 'Midst sulph'rous smoke and fire; 
 
 To feel again that friendship true, 
 The friendship of the boys in blue, 
 
 And clasp again their hand, 
 The hand of those who raised our Stars 
 O'er treason's rag, the Stars and Bars, 
 
 And saved our native land; 
 
 Who nobly, at their country's call, 
 Marched forth to fight, perhaps to fall 
 
 As martyrs to the cause; 
 Who, 'midst the raging battle's roar, 
 Pressed on to where the cannon pour 
 
 Death from their flaming jaws. 
 
 And to your mind will come the day 
 You proudly marched from home away, — 
 
 From wife and children dear; 
 And how from them you turned your eyes, 
 And checked a sob that strove to rise, 
 
 And brushed away a tear. 
 
100 OSHKOSH. 
 
 And mem'ry will again recall 
 The hardships and the dangers all 
 
 That rose on ev'ry side, — 
 The weary march, the sentry's beat. 
 Where oft, exposed to storm and sleet, 
 
 Your loyal hearts were tried. 
 
 Again will cannon loudly roar; 
 And sound of musketry once more 
 
 Your list'ning ear will greet; 
 You'll see the smoke of battle near, 
 And hear opposing legions cheer, 
 
 As on they rush to meet. 
 
 And when, the awful carnage o'er, 
 Has ceased the cannon's deaf'ning roar, 
 
 You'll see again the field 
 Where, cold in death, your comrades lie, 
 Who forward sprung to do and die, 
 
 A prayer their only shield. 
 
 And Libby's walls again will rise, 
 And loathsome stand before your eyes. 
 
 As they did years ago, 
 Where many comrades met their fate, 
 A stern reminder of the hate 
 
 The Southron bore his foe. 
 
THE CAMP-FIRE. 10 I 
 
 For there starvation, grim and gaunt, 
 Stalked in your midst, and cruel taunt 
 
 Was added to despair, 
 While many prayed for death's release 
 To give to them eternal peace, 
 
 And break the bondage there. 
 
 But many years have passed away 
 Since Northern blue and Southern gray 
 
 Met on the field of gore; 
 And, where once belched the cannon's mouth, 
 Now frozen North and sunny South 
 
 Are one from shore to shore. 
 
 So let us now forget the wrong, 
 As here we join in mirth and song, 
 
 For they our brothers are; 
 And let us trust that civil strife 
 No more shall sacrifice a life 
 
 In cruel and useless war. 
 
 But let us think of those who lie 
 Beneath the sunny Southern sky, 
 
 For they were brave and true, 
 And now deserve the highest praise 
 For deeds they wrought in trying days, — 
 
 Proud heroes of the blue. 
 
I02 OSHKOSH. 
 
 And cheer our banner streaming free, 
 The symbol of our liberty; 
 
 And may it ever wave 
 In beauty o'er the heads of those 
 Who fought and conquered Freedom's foes, 
 
 For you were heroes brave. 
 
 A REQUEST. 
 
 O sparkling ribbon of silv'ryspray, 
 Thy ceaseless murmuring stay, oh, stay 
 For one brief moment, and tell me, pray, 
 
 What in thy wand'rings thou mayst have seen. 
 While dashing through forests of leafy green, 
 With rippling mirth and a glimm'ring sheen. 
 
 As thou rushed down the hillside, or threaded thy way 
 Through meadows sweet-scented with new-mown hay, 
 So merrily dancing the livelong day! 
 
 Canst tell of a spot where the wild flowers grow? 
 Where the violets, daisies, and buttercups blow? 
 Where lily buds white as the drifted snow 
 
 Nod to the breeze, as, in beauty dressed, 
 They sink to sleep on thy gentle breast, 
 In sweet repose of their nightly rest? 
 
A REQUEST. IO3 
 
 Didst kiss the roots of love's trysting-tree, 
 While dashing along with a note of glee, 
 On thy way to the far-off sounding sea? 
 
 If so, what secrets didst gather there? 
 Didst hear from the lips of a maiden fair 
 An answ'ring sigh on the ev'ning air 
 
 To the tender words of a lover bold, 
 Who did to her willing ear unfold 
 The same sweet story so often told ? 
 
 Didst see them meet in a warm embrace, 
 She thinking no wrong, and on his face 
 No faithless cunning nor falsehood's trace, 
 
 Two souls that loved with a love sincere, 
 With love ne'er destined to cause a tear. 
 Nor broken heart bring to untimely bier? 
 
 Thou knowest, perhaps, where forever lies 
 At rest 'neath the blue of the summer skies, 
 A loved one dead, — a fond heart's prize. 
 
 Perchance thou hast seen a fair maiden go, 
 
 In the mellow light of the sunset glow. 
 
 To that lonely mound, and there, kneeling low, 
 
I04 OSHKOSH. 
 
 Renew her vows, while the forest near, 
 With a pitying sigh, bowed low its ear, 
 The anguished sobs of the maid to hear. 
 
 Oh, tell me a tale of the hopes and fears 
 Of human life, with its smiles and tears, 
 Its joys and pains of the passing years; 
 
 For this is the true sad tale of earth, 
 Now days of sorrow, now days of mirth, 
 Forever chang^incr from th' hour of birth! 
 
 TO MY BROTHER JOHN. 
 
 Thou art dead, my brother; 
 
 Thou art gone; 
 
 And the world moves on 
 In the same old way, 
 From day to day. 
 Thou art dead to us; 
 Just as sinks the sun 
 
 At eve in the west. 
 When the day is done, 
 
 Thou passed to thy rest, 
 Silently, gently,. 
 
 To eternity's rest; 
 Farewell. 
 
THE INVALIDS APPEAL. IO5 
 
 Thou dost live, my brother ; 
 
 Thou art here; 
 
 And to us art dear 
 In the same old way, 
 From day to day. 
 Thou dost live in us ; 
 When thou didst depart 
 
 We did not forget; 
 For, deep in our heart, 
 
 We cherish thee yet ; 
 Lovingly, kindly, 
 
 Do we cling to thee yet; 
 Hail! hail! 
 
 THE INVALID'S APPEAL. 
 
 Come, my Amy, Amy dear, 
 Lead me out amid the flowers; 
 Lead me to the shady bowers; 
 Speak of love. 
 
 Bright your eyes are, bright as stars 
 Let them sparkle merrily; 
 Let them gently smile on me, 
 Smile their love. 
 
I06 OSHKOSH. 
 
 Red your lips are, ruby red; 
 Press them to my faded cheek; 
 Thus, my Amy, let them speak, 
 Speak of love. 
 
 White your arms are, white as snow; 
 Clasp them round about me, dear; 
 Let me feel that you are near, 
 Child of love. 
 
 Soon I'll leave you, Amy dear; 
 I am passing day by day; 
 Give me love, then, while you may; 
 Give me love. 
 
 THE RELIC HUNTERS. 
 
 "Only an Indian mound," 
 
 Thus to tliemselves they said, 
 As the human ghouls dug round and round, 
 Upturning the bones of the dead, 
 
 Seeking an arrowhead, 
 
 Seeking the weapon of stone. 
 Despoiling the graves of the savage dead 
 
 For some carved bits of bone. 
 
THE OLD MAIDS PRAYER. lO/ 
 
 Tumbling in careless mood 
 
 The skeleton form about, 
 They tossed the skull in their antics rude 
 
 With many a ruthless shout. 
 
 Thus, for some relic old, 
 
 The impious white man came, 
 And desecrated the red man's mold. 
 
 With never a blush of shame. 
 
 THE OLD MAID'S PRAYER. 
 
 There was once an old maid, so a quaint story goes — 
 If you ask me her age, I must say no one knows; 
 
 She was thirty, or forty, or somewhere between. 
 But 'tis certain a spinster both tall, lank, and lean. 
 
 This old maid, as I started to say just above. 
 Though ill-favored in looks, yet was dying for love; 
 
 For, as years rolled around, she beheld with dismay 
 That her chance for a husband was ebbing away. 
 
 She went here, she went there, and she ev'rywhere ran 
 Where she thought there a chance for securing a man; 
 
I08 OSHKOSH. 
 
 But, though try as she would, she ne'er met with 
 
 success, 
 While her chances each year grew exceedingly less; 
 
 Till she saw she at last must sit down in despair, 
 And give way to the maidens more youthful and fair, 
 
 Unless soon unexpected there something should chance 
 Her marital prospects to quickly enhance. 
 
 But, as time still passed on without bringing relief, 
 Since no man e'er proposed thus to soften her grief, 
 
 Like all other unfortunates weighted with care. 
 She determined at last to find solace in prayer. 
 
 So one evening she quietly stole to a wood. 
 Which not far from her home in its solitude stood, 
 
 And alone, on her knees, she there fervently prayed 
 That her sorrow of heart should at once be allayed. 
 
 And a man be consigned, without fail, to her arms. 
 To be captive for aye to her maidenly charms; 
 
 Thus long, long she beseeched, and vowed never to 
 
 rise 
 Until heaven some answer should send to her cries. 
 
THE OLD MAID S PRAYER. IO9 
 
 Now it chanced that, while she was imploring the 
 saints, 
 
 And the woods loudly rang with her sighs and com- 
 plaints, 
 
 And while thus she engaged in petitions of love, 
 That an owl from the shade of the branches above 
 
 Was disturbed by the noise of the old spinster's plea, 
 And its night cry, "Whoo! whoo!" uttered loud in 
 the tree. 
 
 Then the maiden, o'erjoyed at the cry which she heard, 
 And not thinking at all 'twas the voice of a bird, 
 
 But imagining it the reply to her prayer, 
 
 Cried aloud, with a heart now unburdened of care, 
 
 And in accents so shrill in th' excess of her glee 
 That she frightened the owl from his perch on the tree: 
 
 'Do not wait, I beseech you, to question me, 'Who? ' 
 Send me any one; any one, O Lord, will do ! " 
 
 And now, whether our spinster was e'er gratified, 
 And received at the last that for which she oft sighed, 
 
 Who can say? since Dame Rumor neglected to tell 
 That which later in life the old maiden befell. 
 
no OSHKOSH. 
 
 Now a word to the fair who these lines perchance see: 
 May you ever be happy as happy can be; 
 
 But I pray you may ne'er in your Hfe's little span 
 Be compelled to go down on your knees for a man. 
 
 XENOPHON'S MEMORABILIA OF 
 SOCRATES. 
 
 Thanks be to thee, O Xenophon, who gave 
 Unto posterity the apothegms 
 Of the great Socrates. Hadst thou done naught 
 But write thy Memorabilia, still thou wouldst 
 Have been deserving of enduring fame; 
 For he who utters wise and noble thoughts 
 Doth benefit mankind but little more 
 Than he preserving them. For while the one 
 Doth clothe the product of a fertile brain 
 In language, seeking to perfect his friends, 
 The other, with the magic of his stroke, 
 Doth pen for generations yet unborn 
 The wisdom of the great philosopher, 
 Thus saving to the world for future use 
 The laconisms of a master mind. 
 
XENOPHON S MEMORABILIA OF SOCRATES. I I I 
 
 Thou didst perceive, O Xenophon, beneath 
 The rough exterior of the sage, a heart 
 That beat for man ; and, list'ning, all attent, 
 In wonder wrapt, didst hear the mighty throbs 
 That sent the life blood, all aglow with love, 
 Throughout the world's enervated physique, — 
 The great elixir that should animate 
 Mankind. The genuine value of the brait 
 Thou didst discover underneath the dross 
 That from the less observant eye concealed 
 The nature of the gem. You felt, as oft 
 So many fail to feel, that it would be 
 Injustice to thyself and to mankind 
 To judge the inner by the outward man. 
 
 The costly gem is valued none the less 
 When that it decks a beggar's tattered gown. 
 Than when it sparkles on a prince's breast, 
 Or glitters in a royal coronal. 
 
 Would that the world would probe the heart of man, 
 Nor judge by what the careless eye perceives; 
 Then wisely would it realize the fact 
 That silks oft clothe a multitude of faults, 
 While rags sometimes disguise true manly worth ; 
 And riches may entail upon a fool. 
 While want may be the birthright of a sage ; 
 For, oftentimes, what we call humble birth 
 Is nothing but the homely synonym 
 For future greatness. 
 
112 OSHKOSH. 
 
 Centuries have passed 
 Since Socrates, a citizen of Athens, 
 Stirred up the hearts of men, and taught the world 
 The fundamental principles of life ; 
 And yet this truth remains the same to-day, — 
 Adversities produce the greatest minds. 
 
 We scan, O Xenophon, the pages of 
 Thy Memorabilia of the world's great sage. 
 And almost feel the warm hand -clasp he gave 
 His friends. We all but hear his kindly voice, 
 Imagining we walk with him at Athens. 
 As his associates did centuries 
 Ago, we treasure up his aphorisms. 
 We read his sage remarks by which he makes 
 A would-be statesman master of his craft. 
 He wisely counsels, and without offense, 
 The general who falsely prides himself 
 On knowing well the military art. 
 Nor yet disdains to glad with kind advice 
 The ear of Athens' humblest laborer. 
 
 In work he found naught to be termed disgrace, 
 And judged man, not by birth or high or low, 
 But by the part he well or ill performed 
 Upon the world's great stage, before the eyes 
 Of men. So frugal did he live that he 
 Required but little for his daily wants, 
 Escaping all the worry and distress 
 Of the dissatisfied. Once he replied 
 
XENOPHON S MEMORABILIA OF SOCRATES. IIj 
 
 To Antiphon, the Sophist, who expressed 
 Surprise that he should set no price upon 
 His services, but much prefer to Hve 
 A plain and simple life than to recline 
 In luxury: "You think that happiness 
 Consists in great extravagance, but I 
 Consider that to want for nothing is 
 To have a nature kin unto the gods. 
 No nature can be perfect save it be 
 Divine. Who takes as model the divine 
 Approximates perfection." 
 
 He at all 
 Times mindful of his many friends, 
 With kindly precept bade them to excel, 
 And not to be content with empty show 
 Of a superior skill. He showed them how 
 Embarrassing it is to undertake, 
 Or e'en to speak of anything one fails 
 To understand, the while reminding them 
 That many persons spend much of their time 
 Inspecting the affairs of other men. 
 Who might more advantageously employ it 
 In carefully examining themselves. 
 
 With Hesiod rightly he agreed that vice 
 Is found in great abundance and with ease, 
 For smooth and very near us lies the way. 
 And few indeed the obstacles we meet. 
 8 
 
114 OSHKOSH. 
 
 The path to virtue, on the other hand, 
 Is long and steep, and very rough at first, 
 And many labors have th' immortal gods 
 Imposed on him who seeks with eagerness 
 To reach her blest abode. But when, at last, 
 The traveler has gained the height, it then 
 Becomes exceeding easy, howe'er long 
 And arduous it previously appeared. 
 The gods grant nothing unto man of what 
 Is valuable and excellent, unless 
 He first puts forth an effort to attain. 
 When he has shown a willingness to strive, 
 With timely aid and glimpses of reward, 
 They lead him gently on, by slow degrees. 
 Toward the shining goal of his desire. 
 
 Persuasion, not compulsion, Socrates 
 Regarded as the means whereby to win 
 The hearts and touch the consciences of men. 
 Whom we compel, soon cherish a dislike 
 As if we had most wrongfully despoiled 
 Them of their rights; while those whom we persuade 
 Beget for us a love, as though we were 
 Their greatest benefactors. Who desires 
 To be beloved by friends, must serve his friends; 
 For kindness, kindness will beget, and hate 
 Engenders hatred. Smiles that speak and hands 
 That thrill will win the heart of friendship. He 
 
XENOPHON S MEMORABILIA OF SOCRATES. 
 
 Regarded it the duty of all men 
 To note what value they are to their friends, 
 And then to strive to be of so great worth 
 As to preclude the possibility 
 Of change in those by whom they are beloved. 
 No friend could e'er complain of Socrates. 
 To whom he gave his hand, to that one he 
 Was true. His friendship for an honest friend 
 Ne'er changed. For whomsoever he conceived 
 A liking to those friends did he devote 
 Himself with ardor, and with his whole mind, 
 To love them and to be loved in return, 
 Their absence e'er regretting, that his own 
 By them should be regretted, longing for 
 Their presence, while they, on the other hand, 
 Should long for his. He knew that not by force 
 Can friends be gained or kept, but willingly 
 Are they attached by kindly care bestowed, 
 And faithful service rendered. 
 
 Well hast thou 
 Portrayed, O Xenophon, in all its beauty, 
 The pious character of the great man ! 
 Considering the gods know all, both what 
 Is said, and what is done, and even what 
 The mind holds in conception, he at all 
 Times strove to live acceptable to them. 
 He simply prayed the gods that they would give 
 
Il6 OSHKOSH. 
 
 To him good things, believing they alone 
 
 Knew best what things are good for man. He felt 
 
 That what he offered them from his small store, 
 
 In willing sacrifice, possessed as much 
 
 Of merit as that offered from a more 
 
 Abundant means. Though honoring the state, 
 
 And underrating not the good repute 
 
 Of men, yet he regarded paramount 
 
 The worship of the gods, believing those 
 
 To be most dear to heaven who e'er performed 
 
 Their various duties well. 
 
 He lived and died 
 A man of noble qualities. He won 
 Thy love, O Xenophon, by virtues that 
 Will e'er commend themselves unto mankind ! 
 Thou didst admire thy friend as all the world 
 To-day admires. He died beloved by all 
 Who love the good, the noble, and the true. 
 He showed no hatred toward his enemies. 
 Each act was kindness and each word was love. 
 His death was Christ-like and sublime, and e'er 
 Illustrates how a great and good man dies. 
 The world reveres his mem'ry and returns 
 Its grateful thanks, O Xenophon, to thee, 
 Who penned the Memorabilia of the sage 
 Whom all mankind, with one accord, proclaim 
 The Great Philosopher ! 
 
WELCOME. 117 
 
 WELCOME. 
 
 [Written for a reunion of the Phoenix and Lawrean Literary Societies of 
 Lawrence University.] 
 
 Welcome, my Phoenician brothers, 
 
 Unto grand old Phoenix Hall, 
 While her lights, our songs and laughter, 
 
 All those happy hours recall; 
 Happy hours we've spent together, 
 
 Bound by friendship's sacred tie, 
 Hours that in the distant future 
 
 Will wring from our hearts a sigh. 
 
 And ye, dear Lawrean sisters, 
 
 Affectionate and true. 
 Whose hearts are warm with sister love, 
 
 Thrice welcome unto you. 
 Yon lights to-night are scarce more bright 
 
 Than our fair sisters' eyes. 
 Where pleasure lurks in ev'ry glance, 
 
 And faithful friendship lies. 
 
 Staunch and true, united ever 
 
 'Gainst the serried ranks of sin, 
 We have marshaled all our forces, 
 
 And the fight we're sure to win. 
 
Il8 OSHKOSH. 
 
 When the clouds of anguish hovered, 
 When the cares of Hfe oppressed 
 
 Friends we loved, unto their rescue 
 Sprung we in full armor dressed. 
 
 And with loving words we kindly- 
 Helped to bear our brother's woe, 
 
 Strove to shield him from the lances 
 Hurled against him by the foe. 
 
 If he fell, we stooped to raise him, 
 
 And, if wounded, staunched the wound; 
 
 Thus the heart, o'erwhelmed with anguish, 
 In our love a solace found. 
 
 But what of them, our Phcenix brothers, 
 
 They who years ago oft stood 
 Where to-night we meet, rejoicing 
 
 In the bonds of brotherhood? 
 Think ye not their thoughts now wander 
 
 Backward through the toilsome years 
 To those days of college friendship, 
 
 Mixture strange of hopes and fears? 
 
 Ah! we know that, though our brothers 
 From old Lawrence far may roam, 
 
 Still their thoughts are ofttimes turning 
 To their dear Phoenician home; 
 
DO NOT DELAY. I f <) 
 
 That the warm hand-clasp of friendship, 
 
 Words of welcome spoken here, 
 In the midst of Hfe's fierce conflict 
 
 To their hearts have proved a cheer. 
 
 Thus to-night in friendly greeting 
 
 Meet we here that, ere we part, 
 We may clasp the hand in friendship. 
 
 Speak the promptings of the heart, 
 And while absent from each other, 
 
 Fondest recollections ken, 
 That will warm our hearts with pleasure 
 
 Till we all shall meet again. 
 
 DO NOT DELAY. 
 
 If you have love to give, my friends, 
 
 Then give it now ; 
 Come not when I am dead 
 To bathe my pale, cold brow 
 With tears you would not give 
 
 When I did live. 
 
 Have you kind words to speak, my friends? 
 
 Then do not wait ; 
 Delay not till I'm dead ; 
 'Twill then be all too late 
 To speak the words of cheer 
 
 I longed to hear. 
 
I20 OSHKOSH. 
 
 If you have flowers for me, my friends, 
 
 Give them to-day ; 
 But come not when I'm dead, 
 In my cold hands to lay 
 The blossoms you might give 
 
 While yet I live. 
 
 No, do not come when I am dead, 
 In grief for me your tears to shed ; 
 But what you have of love to give, 
 Oh, give it now while yet I live ! 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Unto those friends whom love has led 
 
 To read this volume through. 
 The author now his thanks extends, 
 His kindest wishes here appends, 
 And bids them all adieu. 
 
 H 70 86 
 
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