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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 
 
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The Family of Three 
 
 iesuina 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 By EMMA SCARR BOOTH 
 
 BUFFALO 
 
 CHARLES WELLS MOULTON 
 i893 
 
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 Copyright, 1893, 
 By EMMA SCARR BOOTH. 
 
 Printed by C. W. Moulton, Buffalo, N. Y. 
 
DEDICA TION. 
 
 TO ALL HER TRUE FRIENDS, 
 
 WHOEVER AND WHEREVER THEY MAY BE 
 
 THIS VOLUME 
 
 IS GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 The Family of Three. 
 
 Part First 3 
 
 Part Second 16 
 
 Part Third 28 
 
 Part Fourth 32 
 
 Part Fifth 40 
 
 Iesuina. 
 
 Part First 45 
 
 Part Second 
 
 Part Third 63 
 
 Part Fourth 69 
 
 Part Fifth 76 
 
 Part Sixth S2 
 
 Miscellaneous Poems. 
 
 Ode to Life S9 
 
 Angel Teachings 9: 
 
 The Angei's Prophecy 94 
 
 Germ Growth 97 
 
 A Dream Glimpse of Aidenn 99 
 
 The Cry of the Desolate 
 
 The Indian Chief's Remonstrance 
 
 A Dream of Tyranny 109 
 
 Life's Aspirations 113 
 
 Eighty-five : : - 
 
 Good-night 119 
 
 To a Child 120 
 
 The Fishermen 121 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 Just Thirteen 122 
 
 Five Years Later 124 
 
 Liberated , 125 
 
 The Robin 126 
 
 Flow Swiftly, Stream of Life 127 
 
 The Angel's Call 128 
 
 Come Forth, O Soul 129 
 
 Fruition 130 
 
 Evening Musings 131 
 
 The Cynic 133 
 
 His Course 134 
 
 Rustic Coquetry 135 
 
 To a Bird on Her Nest 136 
 
 Soul Longings 137 
 
 Exaltation 138 
 
 Be Glad 139 
 
 Transfigured 140 
 
 Ambition 141 
 
 Be Patient, O My Soul 142 
 
 Love and Home 143 
 
 Superstition 144 
 
 Say, Little Bird 145 
 
 Within the Shadow . 146 
 
 When 147 
 
 Eve , 148 
 
 The Response 148 
 
 Time's Progress 149 
 
 The Angel's Advent 150 
 
 Evening Visions 151 
 
 Vanished Dreams 152 
 
 The Sunbeam 153 
 
 To a Child 154 
 
 The Thread of Life 155 
 
 Peace, Be Still 156 
 
 Return of Gladness 157 
 
CONTENTS. Vll 
 
 Be Merciful 158 
 
 The Plea of Adversity 159 
 
 Fame 161 
 
 Greeting to Sorrow 162 
 
 The Rose 163 
 
 The Thunder Storm 164 
 
 "Excelsior" 166 
 
 Morning 167 
 
 Knowledge 168 
 
 The Voyage 169 
 
 The Grand Laboratory 170 
 
 The Defiance 171 
 
 The Violet 172 
 
 Shine Forth, O Sun 173 
 
 The New Armament 174 
 
 Forward 175 
 
 Song of the Pines 176 
 
 Make Beautiful Your Soul-Gardens 177 
 
 O Son of Toil and Honesty 178 
 
 Penitent 179 
 
 The Prophecy 180 
 
 Morning 181 
 
 The Silent Rock 182 
 
 Make Your Reason Free 183 
 
 Poems of the Affections. 
 
 My Nell 187 
 
 Our May 188 
 
 Evening and Morning 189 
 
 The Gleam in the House of Azah 192 
 
 Through the Green Woodlands 194 
 
 The Young Farmer's Proposal 195 
 
 Affection 197 
 
 Accepted 198 
 
 The Haunting Eyes 199 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 Mabel 2vo 
 
 The Forget-me-not 203 
 
 The Farewell 205 
 
 The Village Belle 206 
 
 The Parting 207 
 
 - The Wife to Her Husband 208 
 
 The Husband to His Wife 209 
 
 My Angel Boy 210 
 
 Baby Annie 211 
 
 The Midnight Cry , 212 
 
 Poems of Childhood. 
 
 The Baby 217 
 
 To a Child 218 
 
 Grade 219 
 
 Pleasures of Snow 220 
 
 Child Treasures 222 
 
 God's Care for the Little Ones 223 
 
 To a Child 224 
 
 The Penitent 225 
 
 Where are the Roses 227 
 
 Greeting to Christmas 228 
 
 Patriotic Poems. 
 
 Return of the Grand Army 233 
 
 Hymn for Thanksgiving 234 
 
 On the Close of the Year 1865 236 
 
 The Peace Jubilee 238 
 
 The Thirtieth of May 239 
 
 The Orphan's Appeal 241 
 
 Uncle Sam 242 
 
 Fourth of July 244 
 
 The Centennial Year 245 
 
 Columbia 246 
 
 The Patriots' Hymn 247 
 
 The Dying Flag Bearer 249 
 
CONTENTS. IX 
 
 Poems of the Seasons. 
 
 New Year's Day 253 
 
 The Passage of Winter 254 
 
 Awake, O Earth 255 
 
 Will She Never Come 256 
 
 Break, O Waves 257 
 
 Acrostic 258 
 
 The May 259 
 
 May Time 260 
 
 June 261 
 
 The Advent of Summer 262 
 
 Farewell to June 263 
 
 September 264 
 
 October 265 
 
 November 266 
 
 Autumn 267 
 
 Winter's Wooing 269 
 
 Winter's Approach 270 
 
 The Winter Wind 272 
 
 A Christmas Toast 273 
 
 The Farewell 274 
 
 A Dirge for the Old Year 275 
 
 Lyrical Pieces. 
 
 O Beauteous Moon 279 
 
 Evening Charms 280 
 
 To a Rose 281 
 
 The First Snow 282 
 
 Beautiful Norah 283 
 
 Fly, O Winter 284 
 
 The Bridegroom's Approach 285 
 
 Captured 286 
 
 Fly Pretty Bird 287 
 
 Enoch Arden Under the Yew Tree 288 
 
 Summer Evening 289 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 Song ot Progress 290 
 
 The Three Rivals 292 
 
 Song 293 
 
 Return Once More 294 
 
 Evening Vespers 295 
 
 Beautiful June 296 
 
 Greeting Song 297 
 
 Laughing Song and Chorus 298 
 
 Onward to Victory 299 
 
 Devotional Poems. 
 
 Our Comforter 303 
 
 Excerpt From "The Last of Her Race" 304 
 
 The Imperishable Tree 305 
 
 Instability 306 
 
 Bless the Poor 307 
 
 Lost in the Snow 308 
 
 Pray • 310 
 
 Thou Givest Us Shelter 310 
 
 To My Friends in Aidenn 311 
 
 I Trust, My God, in Thee 312 
 
 Our Children 313 
 
 God Everywhere 314 
 
 Despair Not 315 
 
 Lift Us Higher 316 
 
 Longing for the Eternal 317 
 
 I Find Rest in Thee 319 
 
 Roll On, O World 320 
 
 Early Poems. 
 
 The Bridal 323 
 
 Lenore 324 
 
 Dear May, Adieu 325 
 
 Fading 327 
 
 Live Ye Well 328 
 
 To A Child 329 
 
CONTENTS. XI 
 
 The Blind Girl To Her Bird 330 
 
 The Beggar's Blessing 331 
 
 The Child To The Bird 334 
 
 The Bird To The Child 335 
 
 The Disclosure 336 
 
 Our Household Darling 337 
 
 Hesitancy 338 
 
 I Flirted But To Tease 339 
 
 In Memoriam 341 
 
 The Kansas Mother 342 
 
 Our Motto 343 
 
 The Human Soul 344 
 
 Slander 345 
 
 Thou Askest Why No More I Sing 346 
 
 The Vision 348 
 
 A Winter Picture 349 
 
 Longing For Spring 350 
 
 Seven Questions 352 
 
 Courage Take 354 
 
 Development 355 
 
 Song Of The Grand Army 356 
 
 Dream On 358 
 
 The Shore Of Youth 359 
 
 Parting 360 
 
 Man's Willing Slave 361 
 
 Simplicity 362 
 
 Heights And Depths 363 
 
 O Silent Land 364 
 
 Only A Sewing Girl 365 
 
 The Bridge 368 
 
 The Departed 369 
 
 The Enfranchised Spirit . . 370 
 
 To Minnehaha 371 
 
 Prayer For Sleep 372 
 
 The Recall 373 
 
Xll CONTENTS. 
 
 The Coming Of Day 374 
 
 The Summons 375 
 
 Change ^ 376 
 
 St. Valentine 377 
 
 The Exile to her Native Land 378 
 
 Sweet Home 379 
 
 The Returned Wanderer 380 
 
 The Bereaved Mother 381 
 
 The Mount Of Truth 382 
 
 The Warning Cry 385 
 
 Dream On, Fair Nature 386 
 
 To The Would-Be Doorkeepers Of Heaven ...... 387 
 
 Expectancy 388 
 
 Bear Up 389 
 
 From Behind The Veil 390 
 
 The Unseen Power , 391 
 
 The Children's Hymn 392 
 
 Dear Angel Of Purity 393 
 
 I Love You . 395 
 
 Lily of the Valley 395 
 
 Acrostic 396 
 
 Music 396 
 
 Providence 397 
 
 Vittoria 398 
 
The Family of Three. 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 O MEMORY, be thou awhile my guide. 
 Go with me down the steep bank of my life,- 
 Yet farther — farther. Let me see, once more, 
 The brook — the little, brawling, passionate thing 
 That fumed and fretted like a scolding dame, 
 And cried that all the pebbles in the world 
 Lay in its channel, for no purpose save 
 To harass and retard it in its course. 
 Oft have I listened to the brook's complaint, 
 While seated on a little mossy knoll, 
 Beneath the shelter of an aged tree, 
 Whose arms, half hidden in their emerald sleeves, 
 Reached lovingly toward the heedless stream, 
 As though to clasp it in a fond embrace. 
 Some times bare-legged boys, with noisy glee, 
 Would build a mimic dam across the brook, 
 From which, dismayed, the wavelets would recoil 
 And seek a passage round it; baffled still, 
 They'd dash themselves in rage against the mole. 
 And, breaking into many foamy rills, 
 Bound over it in triumph. In the tree 
 Above my head the birds sang cheerily. 
 And one, a chubby finch, had built her nest 
 In the sharp angle, where two slender boughs 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 Embraced, and joined in one their succulent hearts. 
 
 I watched with much of interest and delight 
 
 The progress of that home; the flutterings, 
 
 Hither and thither, of the feathered pair; 
 
 The whispered consultations, loud debates, 
 
 Before they could decide which branch should hold 
 
 The precious treasures that, they doubted not, 
 
 Spring's last and favorite month would bring to them. 
 
 Then when the place was chosen, the nest begun, 
 
 What bustling to and fro, what great ado, 
 
 What fetching in of straws, and bits of wool, 
 
 And hairs, and sticks, and other odds and ends, 
 
 Which soon the slender feet and delicate beaks 
 
 Wove in a compact, servicable mat, 
 
 That hollowed in the centre like a cup, 
 
 Where, in due time, five azure eggs were laid. 
 
 Then followed days of quietude, and while 
 
 The patient mother warmed to pulsing life 
 
 The tiny globes half bedded in her breast, 
 
 Her happy mate, perched on some nodding bough, 
 
 Warbled to heaven and earth his ecstasy. 
 
 One day I missed my finches when I came 
 
 To my old seat beside the murmuring brook. 
 
 I missed the raptured strains by angels taught, 
 
 Who make the innocent their special care; 
 
 I missed the sparkling eyes, that from the nest 
 
 Were wont to watch my movements, as I thought, 
 
 With less of fear than curiosity. 
 
 But while I stood in wonder and dismay, 
 
 Lest evil had befallen my pretty ones, 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 The twain swept past my head on glancing wings, 
 
 And as they reached their nest, in eager haste, 
 
 Four gaping mouths flew open to receive 
 
 The nourishment they brought. Then swift I ran 
 
 To pour the story in my mother's ear, 
 
 Which having reached, so hasty were my thoughts, 
 
 My halting words could not keep pace with them, 
 
 But stumbled in the effort painfully. 
 
 Not many faces gathered round our hearth 
 
 When evening shades led in the hour of rest. 
 
 Our family circle numbered only three. 
 
 My father was by trade a carpenter; 
 
 A poor, but honest and hard-working man, 
 
 Who in his early life had wed for love 
 
 A girl still poorer; but with her she brought 
 
 A warm and loving heart and willing hands, 
 
 By him esteemed far more than gold or lands. 
 
 The pair had overstepped life's middle age 
 
 When I, a puny, helpless thing, was given 
 
 To swell their cares, and, as they said, their joys. 
 
 I know they loved me with a love whose soul 
 
 Was blent with passionate worship. They so long 
 
 Had waited for the prize, that, when it came, 
 
 'Twas valued as all laggard blessings are. 
 
 I mind me how I used to love to sit 
 
 Among the shavings while my father worked 
 
 And chatter like a magpie, foolishness, 
 
 And deck my giddy head with trailing curls, 
 
 Picked from the fibrous ribbons that his plane 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 At every push sent whirling in my lap. 
 But sometimes he would stop to pat my brow, 
 And say, " Be merry while you can, my girl." 
 Then I, bold with the ignorance of youth, 
 Would look up, laughing, in his face, and cry, 
 
 "Why, Father, I'll be merry all my life! 
 I know I shall be merry all my life." 
 
 "God grant it, child. God grant it may be so!" 
 He then would answer in a tone subdued, 
 And, oh, so solemn, that I'd 'gin to weep 
 In terror at the strange sound of his voice. 
 Then he would laugh, and catch me to his heart, 
 And say, " My dear, while poor, old father lives, 
 He'll drive the nasty bugaboos away. 
 They shall not harm a single golden hair 
 Upon my Fanny's head." This happened thrice 
 To my clear recollection, and, at last, 
 I grew to wonder, in a careless way, 
 What were those bugaboos, and once I asked 
 My father if they had not other names. 
 "Ay, ay," he said, "but never mind them now. 
 Thou'lt find out soon enough when thou art grown, 
 If God it please to spare thy life so long." 
 And so I let it rest, and asked no more. 
 
 Our home was in a valley, far away 
 From the ear-vexing din of busy towns, 
 Where the vast concourse of humanity, 
 Intent on gain of one kind or another, 
 Tramples the offered blessings of to-day 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 Beneath its restless feet, while on it rushes 
 In mad pursuit of shadowy to-morrow, 
 Which, laden with the treasures, much desired 
 Because not yet enjoyed, flies on before, 
 And mocks at man, and still eludes his grasp. 
 Our humble cottage, half embowered in vines, 
 Stood on the outskirts of a scattered village, 
 A place most noted for its quietude, 
 And kind and honest-souled inhabitants. 
 There one small church, age-worn and ivy-clad, 
 Still raised its warning finger toward heaven, 
 And drew the meek eyes of the villagers 
 Upward, and frequently their hearts as well. 
 Lowly but neat the houses mostly were 
 That formed the straggling hamlet, and but one 
 Aspired to lordly state, and reared its head 
 In seeming arrogance above the rest. 
 This was the mansion of 'Squire Hazelby, 
 As he was called by all his tenantry, 
 The owner of the land for miles around. 
 
 Once, I believe I then was eight years old, 
 My mother sent me up to the great house 
 On some slight errand — what I now forget. 
 I was to ask for Mistress Enderby, 
 The worthy housekeeper at Hazel Hall, 
 And give to her my message; and right glad 
 Was I to go, for much I longed to see 
 The inside of that Castle Wonderful, 
 Whose outside overpowered me with awe 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 When I compared it with my rustic home, 
 
 Or any other dwelling thereabout. 
 
 I tripped along until I reached the Hall, 
 
 And then I paused, not knowing at which doc : 
 
 There were so many, it was best to knock. 
 
 While I delayed in this uncertainty, 
 
 A black-eyed boy, just entered in his teens, 
 
 Came round the corner, chasing, eagerly, 
 
 A lovely butterfly. Her velvet wings 
 
 Conveyed her swiftly, and she would have 'scaped 
 
 But that he threw his cap and struck her down 
 
 All broken, bruised, and dying, at his feet. 
 
 " Oh! Oh! " I cried, " Don't, don't, you cruel boy! 
 How could you hurt it so? poor, pretty thing! " 
 With that the lad in wonder faced about 
 And saw me. "Ah, my bonny lady-bird," 
 He said, advancing slowly to my side. 
 
 "Say, did you drop from yonder silvery cloud 
 That hovers near as if awaiting you? " 
 
 " No", I replied, " I came here on my feet 
 And am to ask for Mistress Enderby." 
 And then I ran to where the butterfly 
 Lay helpless on the ground, and picked it up, 
 Tenderly placing it upon my hand; 
 But the next moment the frail, harmless thing 
 Folded its wings, and with one quiver died. 
 I shed some bitter tears, as children will 
 O'er the ill-fate of some poor innocent, 
 Then, waiting not to ask for leave, I tore 
 A full-blown, snowy lily from its stalk, 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 And placed the butterfly most carefully 
 
 Within its silken cell, and closed it up; 
 
 Then, with my fingers, dug a little grave 
 
 Under a willow tree and buried it. 
 
 When this was done a merry laugh broke forth 
 
 From the red lips of the amused boy, 
 
 Who had been witness of the burial rites, 
 
 And as I turned with cheeks all burning hot, 
 
 For I was sensitive to ridicule, 
 
 He said, " You should have offered up a prayer 
 
 To make the thing complete." And I returned, 
 
 " 'Tis but the wicked ones that need our prayers. 
 The pure and innocent require them not." 
 
 " Well, well," he said, " sit down and talk awhile, 
 And scold me if you will; I shall not care. 
 Your voice is sweeter than a nightingale's, 
 And you are fresh as Nature and as fair. 
 Come, sit down, pet." " No, I must not stay. 
 Please tell me where is Mistress Enderby." 
 
 " Well, if you will not deign to stay with me, 
 I'll go with you, and help you look for her. 
 My name is Arthur Hazelby, and you 
 Must call me Arthur when you speak to me." 
 So saying, Arthur gently took my hand, 
 And, opening wide the great door of the Hall, 
 He led me on through rooms so large and grand 
 That I conceived myself in fairy land 
 At last, and edged more closely to his side, 
 Expecting every moment to behold 
 Some strange, unnatural creature. Everywhere 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 Was beauty that I had not seen before. 
 Books, pictures, marble statues, unknown flowers 
 Of odor exquisite, and gorgeous dye, 
 Met us at every turn; and on the floors 
 Were carpets woven in bright-hued designs, 
 And soft and springy 'neath our feet as moss. 
 In one of those apartments stood an organ, 
 And Arthur, in obedience to my wish, 
 Sat down and played a sweetly plaintive tune 
 And I, with folded arms, stood by entranced, 
 While every sobbing note sank in my heart 
 And died there; and, ere long, in sympathy, 
 I bowed my head upon my hands and wept. 
 The music quickly ceased, and two strong arms 
 Were wound around me, and warm kisses fell 
 Upon my hair, and brow, and lips, and cheeks. 
 And I, because my tears had made me weak, 
 Resisted not, but yielded for a while. 
 
 ; Arthur, pray, what means this ? " My heart leaped up 
 In sudden terror as the freezing tones 
 Fell on my ear, and, looking round, I saw 
 A stately lady, with large, midnight eyes, 
 And raven hair, and face that seemed as if 
 It had been chiselled from a bank of snow, 
 It was so pale — so pale, and, oh, so cold! 
 Mother, I found this wild bird in our park, 
 And so I caged her here to play with her 
 A little while," said Arthur, half confused, 
 But laughing to conceal it. "Who is she?" 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. II 
 
 Inquired his mother in the same cold tones. 
 
 "That I have not found out myself as yet, 
 Her son replied. Then turning to poor me, 
 Who trembled like an aspen leaf, he asked, 
 
 11 What is your name ? Be not afraid, my dear." 
 
 " My name is Fanny Earl, I answered, low. 
 My father is the village carpenter, 
 And lives a mile from here down in the dell." 
 
 "What is her business here?" the lady asked, 
 Addressing still her son instead of me, 
 Who keenly felt, though but a simple child, 
 The undisguised contempt this plan implied. 
 
 " She came to see our housekeeper, said Arthur, 
 And but for me would have been gone ere this 
 Back to her woodland nest." " Then ring the bell," 
 The haughty lady ordered, and there came, 
 In ready answer to its tinkling call, 
 A dame of middle age, robust and fair, 
 And kindly looking; one I could have called 
 On short acquaintance by the name of mother. 
 
 " This child desires to see you, Enderby. 
 Take her away into the kitchen, please, 
 And, ere she leaves, get her a hearty lunch. 
 These common brats have wolfish appetites." 
 So spake the lady with the darkling hair. 
 I had a choking feeling in my throat, 
 By anger caused; but Mistress Enderby 
 Drew me in haste away, and laughed and talked, 
 Good soul, to smooth again my ruffled pride — 
 For I had pride, though I was but a child — 
 
12 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 The child, too, of a humble carpenter. 
 When I had said what I had come to say, 
 The housekeeper inquired my name and age, 
 And I was pleased to find that she had known 
 My mother when a girl. "Now, Fanny, lass," 
 She laughing said, when I had risen to go, 
 " I shall not pester you to stay and eat, 
 For well I know, by those round, healthy cheeks, 
 You've got as good at home. But here, my love, 
 Take this in memory of dame Enderby, 
 And keep it always, darling, for her sake." 
 With that she quickly threw around my neck 
 A heavy chain of gold, and, kissing me, 
 Showed me the best way home, and said, " Good-bye; 
 And may good luck go with you all your life." 
 
 My way home led through a secluded lane, 
 Beneath whose shelter violets thickly grew 
 And drooped their heads in sweet humility. 
 I had a little fancy of my own, 
 That they had slyly stolen from the sky 
 Part of its azure mantle, which they used 
 To veil their modest faces from the gaze 
 Of rude and curious mortals; but the clouds, 
 Discovering the theft at last, were vex .d, 
 And darkly frowned upon the pilferers, 
 Until propitiated by the rare 
 And delicate fragrance of their contrite sighs. 
 
 Slow sauntering through the lane, I made full soon 
 A pretty nosegay of the fair, wild flowers 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 13 
 
 That reached perfection tended by no hand, 
 
 Unless the fairies cultivated them 
 
 On moon-lit nights unseen by mortal eyes. 
 
 Cowslips and buttercups of golden hue, 
 
 And daisies, purely white or tipped with red; 
 
 Pale honeysuckles, holding each a bee, 
 
 Insatiate reveller, in its nectared cup. 
 
 Blue and white bells, that swung so gracefully 
 
 Around their slender stalks; and blossoming May, 
 
 Got with some scratches from the thorny hedge; 
 
 And creamy primroses, and lilies white, 
 
 And purple fox-glove, and the sweet, wild rose, 
 
 Whose soft cheek glows with a perpetual blush. 
 
 Of such as these I filled my apron full 
 
 To take home to my mother, who, I knew, 
 
 Loved flowers and such fair things as well as I. 
 
 When half way through the lane I heard a shout, 
 And looking round, saw Arthur following me, 
 Accompanied by a large, Newfoundland dog, 
 Whose black and shaggy coat shone in the sun 
 That westward to his couch was hastening. 
 You're caught at last, you little runaway!" 
 Cried Arthur, as he drew near to my side. 
 ; And I owe thanks to good dame Enderby 
 For pointing out to me the road you took. 
 I wanted sorely to apologize 
 For the gross insults mother put on you. 
 Fanny, you will not think the less of me 
 For her disdainful words ? " " No," I returned, 
 
14 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 "You're not to blame for other people's faults." 
 And so we walked amicably together, 
 While Neptune gambolled round us in high glee. 
 Soon as my vine-wreathed home appeared in sight, 
 My heart rose up in greeting, and I said, 
 Pointing it out to Arthur, "Yonder dwells 
 Those whom I hold the dearest upon earth. 
 To you, no doubt, the place looks rude and mean 
 Because you were not born there; but to me 
 There's far more comfort in that homely cot 
 Than in your mansion, stately though it be." 
 " I have no doubt you think so now," he said, 
 But sometime you will wish for better things." 
 He paused, but, as I turned to go, he asked, 
 " May I not come to see you now and then ?" 
 " Yes," was my answer. " Come whene'er you please. 
 But, why is it you have grown to like me so? 
 We've scarce had time to get acquainted yet." 
 " Because," and here he looked into my eyes, 
 " Because you're beautiful and innocent. 
 Now' give me one sweet kiss, and then good-bye." 
 
 My parents were at tea when I went in, 
 And, throwing down in haste my flowery load, 
 I joined them, and related what had past 
 During my visit up at Hazel Hall, 
 And showed the chain that Mistress Enderby 
 Had given me to keep through all my life. 
 When I had done my story, Father said, 
 "She's a proud madam — that up at the Hall. 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 15 
 
 She holds all poor folk of no more account 
 
 Than if they were so many dirty pigs, 
 
 And never thinks that 'tis to them she owes 
 
 Her fine establishment, her silken gear, 
 
 And all that makes her lift her head so high." 
 " But Arthur is not like her, is he Father ? " 
 
 I ventured to inquire, and he replied, 
 "The lad is well enough for aught I know; 
 
 But let a few more years bowl o'er his head, 
 
 And then there'll be a change, or I'm mista'en. 
 
 For he's a scion from a bitter stock, 
 
 Grafted upon another bitterer still; 
 
 And 'tis a maxim, true as it is old, 
 
 That ' what's bred i' the bone crops out i' the flesh.' 
 
 If thou wert older than thou art I'd say 
 
 Beware of him, my lass, beware of him! 
 
 For as he used the harmless butterfly 
 
 So he will use thee if he can, my dear. 
 
 He will defile thy virgin purity, 
 
 And all his devilish clan will cry, ' Well done,' 
 
 Even while they sneer and mock and point at thee. 
 
 Oh, the bare thought of this nigh maddens me! " 
 
 I never saw my father so much moved 
 Before. He paced about the narrow room, 
 While drops of sweat hung trembling on his brow 
 And his blue eyes shot forth a lurid fire. 
 
 " Why, father! " said my mother quietly; 
 
 " Don't let us borrow trouble from the future. 
 God knows enough of it hangs on the present 
 
l6 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 For us to hide beneath a cheerful face. 
 Trust me to teach our Fanny what is right 
 And what is wrong when she is old enough 
 To understand my meaning." Then my father 
 Said, "You are right, and I'll go take a walk 
 To cool my heated fancy, and no more 
 I'll turn myself into a thunder-cloud." 
 Then I went quickly to arrange my flowers 
 And place their stems in water, and the thought 
 Occurred to me, 'He called me beautiful. 
 Do I look fair to him as these sweet flowers 
 I wonder.' Then I sought the looking-glass, 
 And tried to find out where this beauty lurked, 
 In the reflection that smiled back on me 
 Whene'er I smiled. And this is what I saw, — 
 Fair ringlets trailing over shoulders bare, 
 And two blue eyes that big with wonder seemed, 
 And rosy cheeks and lips, and full round face. 
 ' I think you do look well,' said Vanity. 
 And then she said again, 'You're beautiful'! 
 And then I scolded at the flatterer, 
 And turned the looking-glass face to the wall. 
 So leaving it I soon retired to bed, 
 And prayed to be preserved from self-conceit. 
 
 Part Second. 
 
 Ten links, torn piece-meal from the mighty chain, 
 Close wound around old Time's revolving wheel, 
 Slipped quietly into that chasm dark 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 1 7 
 
 We call the Past — the Past, that swallows up 
 
 Oar cherished treasures, with our hopes, our fears, 
 
 Our joys, our sorrows, and — at last — ourselves! 
 
 To many a family circle those ten years 
 
 Had brought a change — had lessened or increased 
 
 Their number; but ours counted just the same. 
 
 Much altered in appearance were we all, 
 
 But I, by far, the most. My face was now 
 
 Less round than oval, and my yellow hair 
 
 Had slowly deepened to a golden brown. 
 
 My eyes seemed darker, too, than formerly; 
 
 And, since the first day I saw Arthur, twice 
 
 Twelve inches had been added to my height. 
 
 There was no dearth of suitors for my hand, 
 
 For beauty will draw lovers everywhere, 
 
 And few there be that wisely look beneath 
 
 The charming mask to read the intellect, 
 
 Or question if the heart doth correspond 
 
 With the fair countenance. I gave to all 
 
 That pressed their suit on me the harsh word — No. 
 
 Alas, for my heart's peace and happiness! 
 
 A. pair of dark eyes ever came between 
 
 My vision and all other images. 
 
 I had not met the owner of the eyes 
 
 In those ten years more than as many times. 
 
 He had been sent to college very soon 
 
 After our first acquaintance, to prevent 
 
 The intimacy that 'twas feared might grow 
 
 Between the youthful heir of Hazelby 
 
 And the despised, uncultured peasant girl. 
 
l8 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 Whenever, during his long college life, 
 He spent some holidays at Hazel Hall, 
 He sought my home, and was so frank and free 
 That soon he won my father's kindly heart, 
 Who said, "The lad bids fair to lift the curse 
 Of pride from Hazelby, and if he lives 
 May be the founder of a better race." 
 These visits at long intervals were made. 
 Years intervened between them, and each time 
 My heart was stricken with a keener pang 
 To note how rich and fertile grew his mind, 
 While mine neglected lay, and unimproved. 
 I soon imbibed, with famished eagerness, 
 All that the mistress of the village school 
 Of learning could bestow. She, poor, old soul 
 Had toiled and moiled for half a century 
 Among the village urchins' sterile brains, 
 And planted, hoping for a speedy growth, 
 Here seeds of order, there a sprig of faith, 
 Patience, attention, and obedience, 
 With the inevitable A. B. C, 
 Followed by reading and orthography; 
 And then some stray roots of arithmetic, 
 And a surprising style of penmanship 
 Peculiar to herself. I soon learned all 
 The mistress knew, and stopped, alas, at that. 
 For my dear parents, though they much desired 
 To give me schooling equal to my wish, 
 Could not afford the means. My mother, now 
 Disabled by rheumatic pains, was oft 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 Compelled'to keep her chair, from labor free. 
 Besides, my father's health had greatly failed. 
 And so they needed my devoted care 
 And help to earn the needful staff of life. 
 
 By this time Arthur had the longed-for goal 
 
 Of youth — the perfect state of manhood reached; 
 
 Finished in education, and complete 
 
 In natural grace, and surface gloss of art. 
 
 He came to see us then and say — good-bye; 
 
 For he was going on a three-years' tour — 
 
 Was going to visit every famous spot 
 
 Of our great world. Ah, well I recollect 
 
 'Twas evening when he came — a mild, spring eve. 
 
 The stars outshone the sparkles in the brook 
 
 By which I sat, upon a rustic bench, 
 
 Made by my father in a leisure hour. 
 
 'Twas the same brook, uttering the same complaint 
 
 In the same querulous tones of long ago. 
 
 And I was overshadowed by a tre£ — 
 
 The same in which the finch had built her nest, 
 
 Watched closely by two little prying eyes. 
 
 I listened to the brook until its voice 
 
 Grew soft and sweet, and strangely like to his 
 
 Whom I had not beheld for two whole years, 
 
 And who, for so it was reported round, 
 
 Was soon to leave his country for strange lands. 
 
 O, will he come to see me ere he goes ? ' 
 
 My heart asked with a flutter. 'Better not,' 
 
 Returned my reason; 'better, better not. 
 
 *9 
 
20 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 Better for thee if he ne'er comes again. 
 For sooner could the lofty sunflower mate 
 With the meek violet than he with thee.' 
 Then my heart sank beneath a long-drawn sigh. 
 
 "What thought gave birth to that deep sigh, Beloved? 
 The whisper fell like music on my ear, 
 And, looking up, I saw the frank, dark eyes 
 I knew so well, bent kindly on my face. 
 
 " I cannot answer you," I, blushing, said. 
 But still he persevered. " Say, Fanny, did 
 The thought in any way relate to me ? " 
 
 "It did; but now, I pray you, ask no more, 
 Unless you wish to pain me." "Pain you, love! " 
 He cried; then paused, and, in a lower tone, 
 Said, " Fanny, I have come to say good-bye, 
 And to exact a promise from your lips — 
 The promise that you will become my wife 
 When I return to claim you, which will be 
 In three years' time at latest." "Nay," I said, 
 
 " You do but mock me, or else you are mad. 
 Think of your lady mother, think of all 
 Your proud inheritance, — your father's wrath 
 When he discovered that his eldest son 
 Had so disgraced him." To the last few words 
 My natural pride gave much of bitterness, 
 The while it forced hot tears into my eyes. 
 
 " Fanny, I've thought the matter o'er and o'er, 
 And I will keep my eager love in check 
 And reason with you. Perfectly we know 
 That we shall meet with fiercest opposition 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 21 
 
 From all my kindred. Well — so be it then. 
 I have the strength of will to cope with them, 
 I trust, and power to shelter you besides. 
 They've set their minds upon a painted doll 
 A mincing puppet from a boarding-school, 
 Whom they would have me wed, because, forsooth, 
 She has a title, and a heap of wealth. 
 She has accomplishments, they argue, too; 
 Yes, she displayed them all to me one day, 
 And murdered French and music in a way 
 Most horrible to hear; and showed to me 
 Some tawdry dogs and parrots worked in wool, 
 And chattered on of novels, such as pleased 
 Her milk-and-water brain. My chafing mind 
 At length strayed out and sought this sylvan dell, 
 Where, finding you, it lay down at your feet 
 In sweet contentment, and I followed it 
 So soon as it was possible to do." 
 
 " You thought her ignorant, — then what am I 
 Who never went to school — that is, I've been 
 To no place worthy of the name of school." 
 
 44 O, say not so," he cried. " You have been schooled 
 By nature and the teacher Heaven sent — 
 The mind enlightening teacher — Poesy, 
 Who ever walks with Nature, hand in hand. 
 Besides," he laid his hand upon my breast, 
 
 "Here beats a warm, a noble human heart, 
 Worth more than learning, more than titles, more, 
 Immeasurably more than sordid gold, 
 And I would fear to claim the sacred prize 
 
22 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 Did I not feel that 'tis already given 
 Unto my care forever-ever-more. 
 And, Fanny, may my Maker deal with me 
 As I shall deal with thee, my best beloved." 
 
 What could I do then but believe and yield ? 
 
 I laid my hand in his, and said, "I trust 
 
 Your word, beloved, and I will be your wife, 
 
 God willing, at the end of those three years, 
 
 Or when it pleases you to claim me; but, 
 
 O, Arthur, know that mine is no light love; 
 
 'Twill either bless or curse my future life. 
 
 Should you prove false to me — nay, hear me out, 
 
 I do not think you will, but if you should, 
 
 This love is of such strength 'twill rend my heart 
 
 And spill its warm affections in the dust, 
 
 And make me selfish and unnatural, 
 
 And torture me to madness. O, my dear, 
 
 This is the scene drawn by a lurking doubt. 
 
 There — I have banished it, and my glad heart 
 
 Has shut its doors, enclosing love and thee, 
 
 And they will open to no hand save thine. 
 
 Now let us seek my parents; they must seal 
 
 Our mutual vows with blessings." Arthur touched 
 
 My forehead with his lips, and said, " My love 
 
 For thee is pure and holy as 'tis deep, 
 
 And it shall keep me from the stain of vice 
 
 Until we meet again." Then, hand in hand, 
 
 We passed into the peaceful, little cot, 
 
 And found my parents seated by the fire; 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 23 
 
 And Arthur drew me in between the two. 
 There, kneeling down, he said, in solemn tones, 
 
 "Your blessing on our union, father, mother; 
 Your blessing on your daughter and your son." 
 
 " What!" cried my father, with a gathering frown; 
 
 11 Our blessing on a wicked mockery ? 
 You come to steal our daughter from our arms, 
 And force our sanction, too ? What mean you, sir ! " 
 
 " I mean that I do covet her for wife, 
 Your daughter here, and she has given assent 
 To my petition." "Fudge! She's but a child 
 Of twelve, or thereabouts. Our Fanny — why! 
 She is not old enough to comprehend 
 The meaning of the words — love — husband — wife." 
 
 " Nay, father, you forget," I gently said, 
 
 " For I was eighteen only yesterday." 
 
 "Nonsense!" he cried; but mother interposed, 
 And said " The child is right; she is eighteen." 
 
 "Well, then, and if she be," my father grumbled, 
 
 " Is that a fit age for a girl to marry ? 
 Thirty is soon enough." Then Arthur said, 
 I shall not claim her for three long years yet, 
 And then where'er we go you both shall go. 
 If you desire it you shall live with us; 
 I will not separate you from your child." 
 
 " But," said my father, in a softer tone, 
 How will you face your scornful relatives 
 When you have made the grown up ' common brat ' 
 Their daughter and your wife ? " Here Arthur's eyes 
 Fired up with sudden passion, and he cried, 
 
24 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 " I neither fear their anger nor their scorn 
 When I have nothing done to merit it. 
 As duty bids, I honor and obey- 
 So far as prudent reason says is right. 
 And I have yielded up my will to theirs 
 In most things cheerfully; but in this case 
 I've made my choice, and will abide by it 
 Though all earth rise against me and all hell." 
 " Here, take my hand, lad," cried my father then, 
 " I see thou'st bravery and common sense. 
 I like thy spirit, and I'll give my lass 
 Right willingly to thy protecting care. 
 Nor do I whine because she's penniless, 
 For thou'st enough for both, and heaps to spare; 
 And she'll not lessen it as some would do. 
 Her mother's brought her up to thrifty ways. 
 She knows how money's earned, and so she'll know 
 The better how to spend it sensibly. 
 If I were like some fathers I might prate 
 About the honor done our family, 
 And thank thee for so kindly condescending 
 To come down hither, from thy lordly height, 
 And take from my work-hardened hand a gift — 
 A spotless pearl, whose worth we may not count. 
 But I don't look upon things in that light. 
 I hold we all are equals in God's sight, 
 And, if right swayed the realm, so would we be 
 In sight of one another; or, if some 
 Were raised to higher ranks, it should be those 
 Whose hearts by virtue are most highly spiced. 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 25 
 
 Then many now neglected and dispised 
 
 Would lift their brightening faces to the light, 
 
 While many others who now boldly flaunt 
 
 False colors in our eyes would find themselves 
 
 Suddenly groveling in the darkest shade. 
 
 Forgive me, boy, that I at first demurred; 
 
 'Twas but to sound your mind. Here take her hand, 
 
 And with it take my blessing. Bless them wife 
 
 As I do." Mother, weeping, blessed us both. 
 
 Then, taking Arthur's hand, she said, " My son, 
 
 As I must now consider you, your eyes 
 
 Are fearless, clear and kindly. I can look 
 
 Through them upon the soul that sits within. 
 
 Such souls as yours, my son, rank high in Heaven. 
 
 'Tis passionate, but nobly passionate, 
 
 And 'tis so gentle and so pliable 
 
 That virtue rules it as the moon the tides; 
 
 And 'tis so self-reliant and so strong 
 
 That it can baffle all the force of wrong. 
 
 I do rejoice that God sees fit to give 
 
 My daughter such a mate — one that can fill 
 
 Her parents' places when they have passed away, 
 
 And love her and protect her as they've done." 
 
 We spent a happy evening all together, 
 
 And then, with bitter tears, we said — good bye. 
 
 Good-bye! that word was meaningless before. 
 
 I never knew what an abyss of pain 
 
 Its fair outside concealed until that night. 
 
 Good-bye! He said it once, and then again, 
 
26 . THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 And yet again, and each time he returned 
 
 To press upon my lips another kiss — 
 
 Another parting kiss, which multiplied 
 
 Into a countless number, and they clung 
 
 In clusters on my lips, my cheeks, my hair, 
 
 As bees about their queen in swarming time. 
 
 And when the third time he had said good-bye 
 
 And disappeared adown the shadowy walk, 
 
 I peered into the darkness for a time, 
 
 Hoping, expecting half to hear again 
 
 The sound of his dear footsteps, bringing back 
 
 My darling for another parting kiss. 
 
 But all was silence, drear and deep as death. 
 
 And so, at last, I slowly closed the door, 
 
 And with an aching heart, went to my room 
 
 And wept, and watched, and prayed out half f he night. 
 
 Some days went by, and then a letter came — 
 
 The first I had received from him. Ah, me! 
 
 Sure never miser gloated o'er his gold, 
 
 As I did o'er that white-winged, hallowed sheet — 
 
 Hallowed because his hand had rested on 
 
 Its surface, while he penned the words of love 
 
 That filled it to o'erflowing. It was read 
 
 And re-read fifty times, and then 'twas laid 
 
 Tenderly on my heart, to which it sang, 
 
 By day and night, in soft, melodious strains, 
 
 Hope's promises of blissful future years. 
 
 His letters kissed my eager hands each week 
 
 For twenty months, and then — and then they ceased. 
 
 And night closed in upon me, darker far 
 
 Than that on which we parted, for no star 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 27 
 
 Pierced with its shining spear the murkiness. 
 
 The last white messenger he sent to me 
 
 Left him at Mecca, in Arabia, 
 
 In health and buoyant spirits; and it told 
 
 How fast and merrily the time flew by, 
 
 And how his dreams were all of love and me, 
 
 And how he had determined to cut short 
 
 His term of absence by six months at least, 
 
 Because — no, pen, thou shalt not write it down. 
 
 What followed is too sacred to be given 
 
 To cold and careless eyes. Heart, hold it fast; 
 
 'Twas only meant for thee, proud flutterer, 
 
 And thou alone shall feast upon its sweets. 
 
 O, the drear months that followed! O, the years 
 
 That grieving came and went! all mourning o'er 
 
 The beautiful young life, that had gone out 
 
 From earth unwatched by friendly eyes, unsoothed 
 
 By loving words or kisses. When they said 
 
 He may be living yet,' my heart cried out, 
 
 In agony, ' I know there is no hope. 
 
 My darling would not let me suffer so 
 
 If he were living; no, there is no hope; 
 
 And I must learn to bear my misery 
 
 With fortitude and meekness, till the hour 
 
 When the death-angel shall release my soul, 
 
 And bear it to my waiting lover's arms.' 
 
 Sometimes, at dusk of eve, I took my way 
 To Hazel Hall, where good Dame Enderby 
 
28 THE FAMILY OF THREE. . 
 
 Still held her place. Her hair was silvered now, 
 And she was not so quick or light of foot, 
 Nor quite so upright as in times gone by. 
 But age had not benumbed one tender nerve 
 That had its birthplace in her kindly heart; 
 They thrilled at sympathy's magnetic touch 
 As readily as ever. When I poured 
 My tale of love and sorrow in her ear, 
 She blamed me not, but sought to comfort me 
 With legends of lost lovers coming home 
 To wed their sweet-hearts after many years. 
 I listened to her patiently, but thought, 
 In secret, 'such events as these, I fear, 
 Occur but seldom in these latter days.' 
 
 Part Third. 
 
 The years went on, and other sorrows came 
 Upon our house. Paralysis had stricken 
 My mother and benumbed her active mind, 
 And rendered her more helpless than a babe. 
 And father could not find the work he sought, 
 For younger, stronger men caught every chance 
 That offered ere it reached his feeble hands. 
 And I, o'er borne by sorrow, care and toil, 
 Grew paler, weaker, sadder, year by year, 
 Until I reached the age of thirty-three. 
 About this time a trader in our village, 
 A widower of fifty, named John Hard, 
 Began to spend long evenings at our house. 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 29 
 
 He was a coarse-voiced, red-faced, burly man, 
 
 Who bullied every one with whom he dealed. 
 
 He seemed to take up more than half the space 
 
 In our small kitchen, where he'd seat himself 
 
 Squarely upon the hearth, and stretch his legs 
 
 On either side of it, as if to bar 
 
 'All others from its warmth. Not for myself 
 
 I cared, so long as I had left 
 
 The taper's light to work by; for I sewed 
 
 For hire, to keep the starved wolf from our door. 
 
 But I disliked to see my parents pushed 
 
 Into the shadows of their own fireside. 
 
 Yet dared not speak my mind, for he had wealth, 
 
 And he was influential in the place, 
 
 And if I angered him, the work might fail 
 
 My poor, thin hands. So, for my parents sake, 
 
 I let him drive them rudely from the fire. 
 
 One night he stayed till they were both in bed, 
 And I kept wondering why he did not go, 
 As was his wont, at half-past eight o'clock. 
 After a time he turned about, and said, 
 11 Lass, can you earn your salt at work like that ? " 
 "Thank God!" I answered, "I have managed to s 
 So far along." " But you would like to live 
 An easier way, may be, if so you could ? " 
 " Did ever man eat sour or bitter bread 
 But that he wished it sweet ? " I asked, and then 
 He drew his chair more near, and gazed at me 
 Until I felt the life tide surging up 
 
30 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 Over my neck, and cheeks, and brow. " Look here, 
 He cried. " I'll take you for my wife, 
 If you be willing, which no doubt you be, 
 For 'tis a chance not picked up every day. 
 I'll take you for my wife, and I'll provide 
 The grub for your old parents while they live. 
 And you can have your servants, and your chaise 
 To ride about in, and your silken gowns, 
 And gew-gaws, and all that, and lift your head 
 With the first lady in the country round. 
 What say you ? " I had listened to this speech 
 In anger and astonishment, and now 
 I answered, coldly, that I should decline 
 The honor he designed me. Then, with face 
 Inflamed, he brought his fist down on the stand 
 So heavily that my work-basket flew 
 Scattering its contents all around the floor. 
 " Lass, you're a fool! I've heard how you once set 
 Your cap for the young squire that disappeared 
 Some time since. You believe he's dead, but I 
 Have heard a likelier story. He's took up 
 With some she black-a-moor, out in the East, 
 That's got a mine of diamonds. You're a fool, 
 I say again; but still I pity you, 
 For you've a pretty face; and now I'll give 
 You one more chance. Will you become my wife 
 And live in luxury, or will you starve, 
 And let your parents starve ? " My lips were mute. 
 My passion was too great to utter forth 
 A sound at first, but when at last it broke 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 31 
 
 'Twas terrible. I know not what I said, 
 
 But this I know, that, rising from my seat, 
 
 I lifted up my hand toward Heaven and cursed him. 
 
 I cursed him for the lie his tongue had framed 
 
 Against the sacred idol of my heart. 
 
 And then I think he left the house in haste, 
 
 But am not sure, for I was not myself 
 
 'Till late the following day; my passion had 
 
 So shattered my weak nerves. Large, glistening tears 
 
 Stood in my father's eyes — the only ones 
 
 I ever saw there — when I had told my tale. 
 
 " Father," I moaned, " it rests with you to say 
 What I shall do. I loathe, I hate this man, 
 But he can give you comforts such as I 
 Can never earn for you, toil as I will. 
 And if you wish it I will go and kneel, 
 And humbly ask his pardon, and implore 
 To be accepted as his lawful wife." 
 
 *' Nay, Fanny," cried my father, "you mistake, 
 If you imagine there is such a thought 
 Lurking within my mind. I'd hang myself 
 Before I'd give my only child to him, 
 In whose whole carcass but one feeling lives, 
 And that is selfishness. God help you, dear! 
 Yours is a bitter lot in any case. 
 The curse of poverty hangs over you, 
 And I, whose dearest wish it ever was 
 To shield you from it, only help to make 
 Its shadow deeper." " No, you brighten it. 
 I should have died, my father, but for you. 
 The bugaboos, that once you hinted at, 
 
32 
 
 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 Would have long since destroyed me." Then I laid 
 My head down on his breast, and we both wept. 
 
 Part Fourth. 
 
 I will pass quickly o'er the next two years 
 
 Of grief and hardship, in the course of which 
 
 Death had looked in at Arthur's home and mine; 
 
 Hadcalled away his father and my mother, 
 
 And later, good old Mistress Enderby. 
 
 I had been forced to sell the chain she gave 
 
 To pay my mother's funeral expenses, 
 
 For I could not endure that her mute corse 
 
 Should be borne to the grave by charity. 
 
 In place of marble tombstone, on the mound 
 
 I raised a living monument of flowers, 
 
 And dreamed her spirit sprinkled them each night 
 
 With water drawn from some celestial fount. 
 
 And surely 'twas so, for it seemed to me 
 
 No other flowers wore such a lovely bloom, 
 
 Or breathed such fragrance on the air as they. 
 
 One autumn afternoon, I sat at work 
 
 Close by a window that looked out upon 
 
 The little plot of ground we called our garden. 
 
 I paused a moment now and then to gaze 
 
 Upon my father, who was busily 
 
 Engaged in gathering in our scanty crop 
 
 Of vegetables. The brisk, autumn breeze 
 
 Played with his locks, now white as whitest wool, 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 33 
 
 For he had reached the age of seventy-five. 
 
 The birds hopped fearlessly around his feet, 
 
 Picking up morsels that his spade unearthed. 
 
 Well might the feathered creatures trust in him 
 
 With perfect confidence, for his kind hand 
 
 Had never hurt one of their pretty race. 
 
 The golden sunbeams danced about his head, 
 
 And one came bridging all the way across 
 
 From him to me, and rested on my cheek, 
 
 Which warmed beneath it to a glowing heat, 
 
 And then I wished, and sent the wish to Heaven, 
 
 O, that this sunbeam were a sign of joy 
 
 And peace and happiness at hand for us!' 
 
 And then I fell into a reverie, 
 
 From which I was awakened by the sound 
 
 Of voices. Looking out again, I saw 
 
 A stranger in the yard — a tall, dark man, 
 
 Dressed in some foreign costume, rich and quaint. 
 
 His beard was of a patriarchal length, 
 
 And hid his breast beneath its inky waves, 
 
 While his bronzed skin told of a fiercer sun 
 
 Than that whose mild rays wandered o'er it now. 
 
 I saw my father clasp his withered hands 
 
 Together as in wonder. Then he led 
 
 The stranger to my presence, and I set 
 
 A chair for him, and stirred the drooping fire, 
 
 And trembled while I did so, not with fear, 
 
 But with a vague anxiety to learn 
 
 What brought to us this unknown visitor. 
 
 I sat me down again beside the window, 
 
34 
 
 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 And glanced at him, but quick withdrew my eyes, 
 For he was gazing straight into my face 
 With such an eager, curious stare, that I 
 Feared to encounter it. At last he spoke: 
 ; I bear a message from a friend of yours — 
 An old-time friend — whom long ere this, no doubt, 
 You have forgot." What was there in the tones 
 To send such thrills of rapture through my nerves! 
 I summoned courage and looked up at him, 
 And for the first time fully met his eyes, — 
 Those eyes like midnight radiant with stars; 
 Those eyes that had from childhood haunted me, 
 That once belonged to Arthur Hazelby. 
 And then I cried, "Father, lay hold on me, 
 For I am going mad. I see the dead, 
 Not as the living was, but 'tis his soul 
 Clad in another form. This stranger has 
 The soul of Arthur Hazelby. I see 
 It in his eyes; I hear it in his voice." 
 And then I fainted, and lay cold and still 
 For many minutes; but that death-like swoon 
 Restored my reason, which had nearly left 
 Its earthly mansion. When I lived again, 
 Arms that were not my father's circled me; 
 Lips that were not my father's took from mine 
 The kisses laid there seventeen years before, 
 And left a thousand others in their place. 
 Ah! you who have not felt the cruel pain 
 That wrings the heart at parting with a friend, 
 Can have no knowledge of the mighty bliss 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 35 
 
 That gives the reunited, for a time, 
 A foretaste of the joys of paradise. 
 
 His story was a long one, but I will 
 
 Briefly relate its leading incidents. 
 
 He had been captured by an Arab horde 
 
 While journeying in the desert. Those who were 
 
 With him were put to death before his eyes. 
 
 But he was spared, because the Arab chief 
 
 Fancied he bore resemblance to his son — 
 
 His only son — then dead; and 'twas his will 
 
 That the young Englishman should fill his place. 
 
 So Arthur, being adopted by their chief, 
 
 Was forced to bide with this wild desert tribe, 
 
 Who closely guarded him by night and day, 
 
 But treated him with kindness and respect. 
 
 They stayed not long encamped in one place, 
 
 But shifted oft, urged by their restless minds, 
 
 Even as their sands are driven by the winds. 
 
 Sometimes amid the desert's barren waste 
 
 They came upon a tiny, verdurous isle, 
 
 Where date trees flourished, where grew broad-leaved 
 
 plants 
 Of wondrous beauty, nurtured by cool springs 
 Of precious water — far more precious there, 
 Than pearls, or gems, or ingots of pure gold. 
 In such sweet spots they made a brief sojourn, 
 And Arthur, that the time might pass away 
 Somewhat less drearily, set up a school, 
 And taught the chief, and others of the tribe 
 
36 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 Who craved instruction, many useful things. 
 
 And so absorbed his mind became in thus 
 
 Imparting knowledge, that the years went by 
 
 At greater speed than he at first believed 
 
 Was possible in his captivity. 
 
 During this time the youth had frequently 
 
 Sought to escape, but never could evade 
 
 The watchful eyes that kept him still in sight. 
 
 At length the old chief, feeling that his hour 
 
 Of death approached, called Arthur to his side, 
 
 And solemnly inquired if he yet craved 
 
 To be permitted to depart from them. 
 
 Arthur replied as solemnly that he 
 
 Should seize the first fair opportunity 
 
 That offered for escape. And then the chief 
 
 Summoned the trustiest of his swarthy tribe, 
 
 And swore them, by the Prophet's holy name, 
 
 To guard their captive safely through the desert, 
 
 And set him free. Then, when they had retired, 
 
 He said to Arthur, " Son, give me thy hand. 
 
 I have done wrong, I feel, in keeping thee 
 
 So long against thy will; but I did hope 
 
 That thou would'st grow to like our way of life, 
 
 And love me, too, at last, as I do thee. 
 
 The hope was vain; thou canst not; thou hast pined 
 
 In secret all these years. Go then, my son, — 
 
 My soul's beloved — go where e'er thou wilt. 
 
 The world is open to thee. Yet, I pray, 
 
 That thou wilt stay a little longer here, 
 
 To close these dying eyes, and see me laid, 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 37 
 
 With my forefathers, in the peaceful tomb. 
 
 Arthur, with tears he strove not to repress, 
 
 Bent o'er the aged chief and kissed his cheek, 
 
 And promised to remain as he desired. 
 " Now, hearken to my words," then said the chief; 
 "Lift up the corner of the carpet there, 
 
 And dig a little way into the sand." 
 
 Arthur obeyed, and found a leathern bag 
 
 Tied closely at the mouth. "Ah, yes, 'tis there — 
 
 My treasure! " cried the chief, excitedly, 
 
 Soon as his eyes beheld it; "but no more 
 
 Shall it be mine, who have no use for it. 
 
 My son, to thee I give it; keep it safe. 
 
 'Twill buy thee power and pleasure in the world. 
 
 Now take my blessing while my faltering tongue 
 
 Can utter it, for I am growing faint." 
 
 The old chief lingered yet another week; 
 
 Then, with his hand in Arthur's calmly died. 
 " And after he was buried," Arthur said, 
 " I spent some days in mourning with his tribe. 
 
 And then, with heart that longed, yet feared to know 
 
 What changes had occured at Hazelby, 
 
 I set out on my homeward journey, love. 
 
 And here I am with thee at last — at last! " 
 
 I took his hand, and gently drew him where 
 The mirror swung above the mantle shelf. 
 There standing, side by side, we looked and saw 
 Two faces, middle-aged, and one was dark 
 But handsome yet, and noble in expression. 
 
38 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 The other looked much like a withered lily. 
 
 'Twas ghastly pale, and thin, and seamed with lines — 
 
 Lines that at times would deepen into wrinkles. 
 
 No bloom upon the cheeks, no sparkle in 
 
 The faded eyes, no lustre in the hair, 
 
 Which once hung gracefully in clustering curls, 
 
 But now was twisted up, and half concealed 
 
 Beneath a little cap. O, ne'er before 
 
 Was it revealed to me that I was changed 
 
 So hopelessly as this! I dropped his hand, 
 
 And, pointing to the spectre in the glass, 
 
 Said, "Arthur, that is not the face you wooed, 
 
 And that is not the face your bride must wear 
 
 When, at your side, she meets the curious crowd 
 
 That throng around to wish you happiness. 
 
 You often praised my beauty; if 'twas that 
 
 You loved, you cannot love me now; 
 
 For there is scarce a shadow of it left. 
 
 And you shall never marry me for pity. 
 
 I'd sooner die — nay, worse — I'd sooner see 
 
 You wedded to another — than become 
 
 A life-long burden on your heart and hands. 
 
 You have been faithful to your early love, 
 
 But she is dead; and I who fill her place 
 
 Release you from your vows and in her name 
 
 Bless you." " What nonsense are you talking, dear? 
 
 He said, half angrily. Then, with a smile — 
 
 The smile of long ago — he drew me close, 
 
 And whispered, "During my long journey here, 
 
 I was tormented by a gloomy dread, 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 39 
 
 Whose shadow moved before me, and enlarged 
 As I drew nearer to my childhood's home. 
 It was the fear that I should find thee dead, 
 Or else the wife of one more blest than I. 
 And when I found thee living, and unwed, 
 And heard how thou hadst suffered poverty 
 And agony of mind through all these years, 
 And spurned temptation, though it offered thee 
 Protection, friends, wealth, ease and happiness; 
 Darling, when this I knew, and knew that thou 
 Hadst sacrificed and suffered thus for me, 
 My love for thee became a holier thing; 
 Though God knows it was never base before; 
 And hadst thou been transformed by ugliness 
 To something even more homely than herself, 
 I should esteem it a blest privilege 
 To fold thy dear form to my grateful heart, 
 And shield thee from misfortune evermore. 
 I know thy charms are not so radiant 
 As once they were; but they were dimmed by me, 
 And it shall be my care to give them back 
 Their olden lustre. Thou wilt find that soon 
 They'll brighten 'neath my kisses; even now 
 I see the rubies glowing on thy lips; 
 The pale, pink roses bursting into life 
 Among the delicate lilies on thy cheek. 
 Joy! joy! my love! the happy present opes. 
 For us the portal of a happier future. 
 Give me thy hand, and let us enter in." 
 
40 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 Part Fifth. 
 
 There was great consternation at the Hall 
 
 When the lost heir appeared; for, in his place, 
 
 His brother, next of age, was lording it 
 
 With pomp and arrogance. This brother was 
 
 His haughty mother's favorite. He had, 
 
 She said, the spirit of his ancestors. 
 
 And it was doubtless so; for, like them, he 
 
 Was feared and hated by the peasantry. 
 
 Greetings constrained and cold were given to Arthur 
 
 By those who should have welcomed him with joy 
 
 And warmest love; and when he, in calm tones, 
 
 Informed them that he was about to wed, 
 
 And who the bride, his mother, white with rage, 
 
 Invoked dire maledictions on his head, 
 
 Which he received composedly, as if 
 
 They had been blessings; and, soon after that, 
 
 His kindred left the Hall in wrath and haste, 
 
 Declaring they would never rec.ognize 
 
 The beggar his low mind had mated with. 
 
 After our marriage we remained a year 
 
 At Hazel Hall, and then my husband wrote 
 
 To his proud relatives, informing them 
 
 That, caring little for his heritage, 
 
 He had resolved to leave it for a home 
 
 In the New World, and, as they'd proved so kind, 
 
 And so considerate to himself and wife, 
 
THE FAMILY OF THREE. 41 
 
 (The irony was strong and unconcealed) 
 He wished to reinstate them at the Hall, 
 And vest them with authority complete 
 O'er all the landed property, if they 
 Would give one-half the income to the poor 
 Of Hazelby and the surrounding parts. 
 Provided, farther, they would give it for 
 The sake and in the name of his beloved 
 And honored wife, who, having been herself 
 Once indigent, could feel for all in need. 
 No answer came to this; and Arthur then, 
 Directing that the income be all used 
 To aid the suffering and the destitute, 
 Left the inheritance in trusty hands; 
 And with myself, my father and some friends, 
 Set sail for the far land of Liberty. 
 Here, for our home, we chose a lovely spot 
 Upon the margin of a smiling lake. 
 And here we yet contentedly reside, 
 And still our happy family numbers three. 
 For though my father left us years ago 
 To join my mother on the heavenly plains, 
 God sent a little, smiling cherub down 
 To fill his place and make again complete 
 Our family circle. In the pleasant days 
 We ramble with our child upon the beach, 
 And laugh to see him fearlesly bend down 
 And grasp the wavelets in his tiny hands, 
 Hoping to stay them; but they break away, 
 Leaving some drops upon his rosy palms, 
 
42 THE FAMILY OF THREE. 
 
 Which merrily he tosses to the sun, 
 And the sun flings him back a shower of pearls 
 That lodge among his clustering golden curls, 
 Or glisten in the rich bloom of his cheek. 
 
 O, we are blest in our idyllic home. — 
 Blest in all earthly comforts — more than blest 
 In love's congenial companionship. 
 My heart is like a fountain, pouring forth 
 Perpetual streams of gratitude to Heaven 
 For its most precious gift to me, which still 
 Comprises, in one individuality, 
 Protector, teacher, husband, lover, friend. 
 His royal soul delights to shed on mine 
 Its fertilizing beams — reflections from 
 The sun of knowledge — and, thus energized, 
 I grow toward him, and feel the dignity 
 And glory of his presence more and more. 
 Now, hand in hand, beside Faith's altar fires, 
 We pause, and call to all life's stricken ones, 
 " Look up, ye down-bowed souls, look up again. 
 Hope! hope! the future brings you recompense. 
 As the Creator liveth, He will move 
 Away all obstacles that now prevent 
 Your onward flight to love, and light, and joy; 
 And you shall learn, like us, to bless the pain 
 That gave the ensuing pleasure tenfold worth; 
 That made you thrones in Heaven, who once wore 
 chains on earth. 
 
Iesuina. 
 
IESUINA. 
 
 IT was our Autumn season. Through the skies 
 The amorous sunbeams hastened to the earth, 
 Whose out-stretched, vapory arms, with fond embrace, 
 Drew them to her warm bosom, where they clung, 
 And paled, and died in ecstasies of love. 
 The winds lay cradled in the lap of Peace 
 And slept obedient to her mild command, 
 While Nature, lulled by her magnetic touch, 
 Sweetly resigned herself to quiet rest, 
 And saw in dreams the sacred mysteries 
 Pertaining to herself revealed, explained. 
 The trees, in merry mood, had made a raid 
 On Beauty's wardrobe, and had used the spoils 
 To robe and deck their forms so gorgeously, 
 That Thought, arrested in her wayward flight, 
 Gazed as if spell bound. 
 
 Now and then a leaf, 
 Bright as the tint that warms the tender cheek 
 Of bashful maidenhood, became detached 
 From its supporting bough, and floated down 
 With graceful motion to the faded turf. 
 Then followed others gleaming with the hue 
 Of gold, and others wearing sober grey, 
 
46 IESUINA. 
 
 Or brown, or neutral tints; and others yet, 
 
 Stained, streaked, and dappled with the rainbow dyes. 
 
 All helped to form a carpet unsurpassed 
 
 In splendor, wondrous in variety, 
 
 On which the pensive Autumn might repose. 
 
 Beneath an ancient oak two children sat 
 
 And chatted pleasantly of childish things. 
 
 One was a boy of twelve, or thereabouts. 
 
 Handsome, impulsive, and imperious, 
 
 He brooked not much restraint or government 
 
 Even from his elders. In his clear brown eyes 
 
 The fires of an unbroken spirit shone. 
 
 The other child, a girl, was sister to 
 
 The boy, but unlike him in most respects. 
 
 Though but two years his junior, she was thought 
 
 By many to be scarcely six years old. 
 
 So small was she in stature that her friends 
 
 All called her by the sweet, pet name of Fairy; 
 
 And she retained it long in after life, 
 
 Declaring that it pleased her better far 
 
 Than her own birth name — Agnes Eveleen. 
 
 Through windows violet-stained, her shy young soul 
 
 Looked out upon Creation and pronounced 
 
 It beautiful and good. So innocent 
 
 And happy was her mind, that it could not 
 
 Imagine a celestial paradise 
 
 More bright and blissful than her own dear home. 
 
 Heaven was within her being, and it shed 
 
 A softening light, a halo round all forms 
 
IESUINA. 47 
 
 Material, which her senses could perceive. 
 Submissive in her nature, (too much so 
 For her own good) she rarely placed .her will 
 In opposition to another's wishes; 
 Entreaty won her, and command o'erawed. 
 
 Ere long the children to their feet arose, 
 
 And, side by side, proceeded toward home; 
 
 The little Fairy carrying in her hand 
 
 A basket filled with leaves — the choicest she 
 
 Could find 'mong all her eyes had wandered o'er. 
 
 These were to form a wreath with which to grace 
 
 The walls of her own chamber, where she spent, 
 
 In play and study, part of every day. 
 
 Soon issuing from the wood, the children walked 
 
 In meadows browned by early autumn frost, 
 
 Where fed a herd of cattle, fat and sleek 
 
 As any that Ohio's farms could show. 
 
 These raised their heads and gazed with curious eyes 
 
 When Philip and the little Fairy passed, 
 
 In haste to reach their dwelling; but as they 
 
 Saw nothing to excite alarm or ire 
 
 They quietly resumed their grazing. 
 
 Far 
 
 The fields extended northward, and their brows 
 Were laved in the cool waters of Lake Erie. 
 Westward and southward the horizon was 
 Shut out from view by the umbrageous forest, 
 While to the eastward billowy hills arose, 
 
48 IESUIMA. 
 
 Crested with pine trees and the arbor-vitae. 
 Near to the hills a thriving village nestled, 
 As if it sought protection in their strength 
 From rude invasion of the storms of Nature. 
 The sunbeams, through a vapory atmosphere 
 Descending, wandered sleepily about, 
 Lighting the windows, polishing the spires 
 That pointed where the sanctuaries stood. 
 Few were the stores for barter in this place — 
 This village of a hundred families; 
 Indeed, but three obtained a fair support, 
 On profits made in buying and in selling. 
 Of these, the largest and most favored one 
 Was owned by Gilbert Lexington — a stout, 
 Good-looking man of forty, father to 
 The boy and girl already introduced. 
 The dwelling, which, approaching from the east, 
 You first would reach, is the beloved abode 
 Of our young rovers, Philip and his sister, 
 Who now are standing by the garden gate. 
 
 "We're home at last," he says, "and glad am I 
 For I am tired; and you I think must be 
 Still more so, Fairy, being small and weak." 
 
 "Oh no. I feel as fresh as when we started 
 This morning for our ramble in the forest. 
 You know you carried me across the brooks 
 And rugged spots of ground, and helped me o'er 
 The great high fences; that's why you are tired. 
 But see the sun is drawing o'er his form 
 A coverlet of mist, and we no more 
 
IESUINA. 49 
 
 May view him till to-morrow; so we'll now 
 Wish him a kind good-night and pleasant dreams. 
 There, Philip! Mother's waiting at the door 
 For us to come to supper, I expect. 
 
 mother! we have had a glorious time. 
 We've been, I think, in the enchanted land 
 You read of in the dear Arabian tales. 
 
 The trees kept dropping down their precious stones 
 Of various hues, which, ere they reached the ground, 
 Changed into leaves. Some of the loveliest 
 
 1 gathered for an autumn wreath. You know 
 I mean to press them first, then varnish them; 
 For so I hear they may be best preserved." 
 
 " Did you find naught in your enchanted land 
 Save leaves, my child ? " " Yes; looking up I saw. 
 Through the entwining branches of the trees, 
 The trailing garments of the fairy queen. 
 Her robe was dyed the sweetest, softest blue; 
 And over it a vail ot silken lace 
 Floated in graceful ripples. I directed 
 Philip's attention to it; but he laughed 
 At me, and said it was the sky I saw. 
 Light-footed elves, in guise of squirrels grey, 
 And black, and red, sat on the fallen trees 
 Munching the chestnuts, which the breeze at times 
 Brought down in showers around us. Mischievous 
 They looked, with plume-like tails o'ershadowing 
 Their backs, and busy paws that held and turned 
 The nut so that the slender teeth might work 
 To best advantage. Gaudy plumed jays 
 
50 IESUINA. 
 
 And woodpeckers chattered overhead, and seemed 
 To scold us for intruding; — but, dear mother, 
 Why is your face so full of mystery ? 
 Something unusual has occurred, I know." 
 
 " You're right, my love; and now since you have done 
 Your story I will enter upon mine. 
 This afternoon I called on Widow Ives 
 To ask if she had heard from Robert yet — 
 Her scapegrace son, who left her to enlist 
 As seaman in the navy. Well, my dears, 
 When I returned I found within our porch 
 A basket covered over with a veil. 
 Lifting the veil, a sleeping cherub face 
 Met my astonished vision. Rapt I gazed 
 Until a smile o'erspread the beauteous features — 
 A smile, methinks, like that which glorified 
 The Christ-child's countenance when, as he lay 
 Serenely in his happy mother's arms, 
 The eastern worshippers around him knelt, 
 And hailed him as the Savior of his race." 
 
 "O mother, where's the baby? tell us quick. 
 We want to see it," cried the children then, 
 Excitedly; and rushing in the house 
 They found their own old cradle, which had stood 
 For years unoccupied up in the garret, 
 Placed near the fire-place in the sitting-room. 
 Beneath a snowy coverlet reposed 
 The little one, in still unconsciousness 
 Of all external objects. Never thought, 
 Fresh from the stainless soul of Purity, 
 
1ESUINA. 
 
 Was fairer, sweeter, chaster, lovelier 
 Than seemed this tiny snow-drop, opening 
 So lonely, so deserted of its kin, 
 Amid the frosts of autumn. 
 
 Presently, 
 Awakened by the voices of the children, 
 Whose ecstasy could scarcely be repressed, 
 The babe unclosed its eyelids, and revealed 
 Two wondering dove-like orbs of softest grey, 
 Wherein deep shadows floated, now and then, 
 Like cloud reflections in a quiet lake. 
 The babe was of the female sex, and seemed 
 Not more than two months old. No kind of clew, 
 No name, no relic had been left with her, 
 Whereby she sometime might be recognized 
 By those who had so strangely cast her out 
 From their protection. 
 
 Long the infant looked 
 At the three unknown faces, radiant 
 With love and admiration, till at length 
 The rosy under lip began to quiver 
 And pout beyond the other, more and more, 
 Swelled by the currents of an o'ercharged heart; 
 And then the baby wept. " O mother, see! " 
 Cried Fairy, "see the mark upon its forehead! " 
 A wonder had appeared, — a crimson cross 
 Flamed on its brow. " The finger of the Lord 
 Has rested here and sealed His chosen one," 
 
 5i 
 
52 IESU1NA. 
 
 The mother said in low and reverent tones. 
 
 " Blessed the child shall be in time to come, 
 But many earthly trials must she bear; 
 For so a voice prophetic in my soul 
 Declares, nor can I doubt the prophecy." 
 Soon the babe, cradled in the loving arms 
 Of Mrs. Lexington, forgot her fears, 
 And smiled again; then fled away the cross, 
 Nor left a trace upon the placid brow 
 To draw attention. So throughout her life, 
 It was observed, whene'er her heart was stirred 
 By deep emotions, on her forehead blazed 
 The blood-red cross, that only passed away 
 When peace ruled in the empire of her mind. 
 
 "You'll keep the baby, mother, will you not ? 
 She shall be one of us, and we will guard 
 Her precious life from danger and from pain. 
 No one shall injure her when I am near." 
 Thus Philip; and his face glowed with the warmth 
 Of a defiant and heroic spirit. 
 
 "Yes, mother; keep the darling baby, please; 
 And I'll do all I can to help you. I 
 Will tend her when you're busy, and devote 
 The time I have for play to her alone. 
 You'll keep her, won't you, for her sake and mine 
 And Philip's, dearest mother? — say you will." 
 So pleaded Fairy, and the mother's heart 
 Pleaded as ardently, and she replied, 
 
 " Yes, children, we will keep her; she shall be 
 Your care as well as mine. In teaching her 
 
IESUINA. 53 
 
 Life's earliest lessons you will learn yourselves 
 Some things that may be useful by and by." 
 
 " Mother, what shall we call her ? " Philip asked, 
 Then, turning to his sister, " Fairy, you 
 Are so poetical that you can find 
 Without much trouble an appropriate name. 
 So please unlock the secret cabinet 
 That holds the choicest treasures of your mind — 
 Your golden thoughts — and choose therefrom a title 
 For our new baby." Fairy bowed her head 
 And mused awhile; then, looking up, she said, 
 In tremulous tones, " We'll call her Iesuina." 
 
 " My darling child! how is it you have found 
 So singular a name ?" the mother asked. 
 
 " I know not whence it came, but as I thought 
 There flashed across my brow a beam of light, 
 On which was written in great, purple letters, 
 The name of Iesuina. I have prayed 
 The angels many times that they would send 
 One of their blessed number to my home, 
 To be my dear companion, sister, friend, 
 All through my life, and, mother, I believe 
 They heard my prayer, and now have answered it 
 By sending us this cherub." "I for one 
 Declare the name is suitable," said Philip. 
 
 " The infant bears the cross, and should she not 
 Receive His name, who bore it long ago, 
 As sacred history tells us." "I agree 
 With you, my son," the mother gently said; 
 
 " So that important question now is settled. 
 
54 IESU1NA. 
 
 What think you, baby Iesuina, say, 
 To your new name ? " The infant tossed aloft 
 Its arms, and crowed, and smiled; and all was joy 
 Within the household when the sun went down. 
 
 Part Second. 
 
 Now let us vault the space of sixteen years 
 
 Ere we again look in upon our friends. 
 
 'Tis eventide in summer. One by one, 
 
 The faithful beacon lights of heaven appear, 
 
 Like dewdrops trembling in the atmosphere. 
 
 The village street lamps, pricked by vanity, 
 
 Essayed to rival the celestial lights, 
 
 And cried to every passer by, "Behold! 
 
 Dim is their radiance compared with ours. 
 
 You are indebted more to us than them 
 
 For guidance and protection in the shade 
 
 Cast o'er your path by Night's gigantic form." 
 
 Thus some among the lesser luminaries 
 
 Of human kind, whose lustre only fills 
 
 A narrow space around them, in their pride 
 
 Imagine they are of more consequence 
 
 Than others, who, in luminous arms of thought, 
 
 Enclose the Universe. 
 
 Our village, now 
 
 Our village, now 
 Enlarged and prosperous, and (we'll whisper it) 
 Aspiring to the greater dignity 
 And title of a city, sends her ships, 
 
IESUINA. 55 
 
 Stored with the products of her industry, 
 
 To distant ports, receiving in exchange 
 
 The merchandise they furnish. Lo! to-night 
 
 There is a bustle all about the harbor. 
 
 For she, the darling of the village folk, 
 
 Their pride, their latest triumph, has returned 
 
 Safe from her first adventure on the lakes. 
 
 Quick through the town the welcome tidings flew: — 
 
 "Our ship has come; the Water Sprite is here! " 
 And many hurried downward to the beach 
 To gaze upon this offspring of their skill 
 And enterprise. Upon the milk-white deck 
 The master of the ship — a stalwart man, 
 Of bronzed complexion and stern features, stood, 
 Directing with rough voice and rougher words 
 The motions of those under his command. 
 But though his tongue to duty is enchained 
 His eyes play truant. O'er the frothy waves 
 That lap the sandy shore his glances leap, 
 And wistfully seek among the noisy crowd 
 For something that they find not. " Where is she ? " 
 Is the impatient query of his mind. 
 
 " She promised to come hither 'mong the first 
 To welcome my return. O Iesuina! 
 I've trusted in thy word as I have never 
 Trusted in aught before in earth or heaven. 
 Thou surely wilt not make me doubt thee now." 
 As if in answer to his murmuring thoughts, 
 A figure, robed in white, detached itself 
 Quietly from a group of laughing girls, 
 
56 IESUINA. 
 
 And stood like some fair Naiad, all alone 
 Beside the lake. Vainly the wavelets strove 
 To clasp her feet in passionate embrace. 
 One moment full of hope and strength they rose, 
 The next fell backward baffled in their aim. 
 At length, uniting all their energies 
 For one last effort, they so far advanced 
 As to bedew her slippers with their tears, 
 Which boldness she resented playfully, 
 And cast upon their fast retreating forms 
 A shower of scented petals from the rose — 
 The snow-white rose that rested on her breast. 
 But now, from the fast-anchored ship, a skiff, 
 Propelled by two impatient, vigorous arms, 
 Comes bounding like a bubble o'er the surf. 
 The rower springs upon the yielding sand, 
 Makes fast his boat, and whispering two words, 
 
 11 My Iesuina! " takes the ungloved hand 
 Of her who stands so pale and statue-like 
 Before him. Then, in louder tone, he asks, 
 
 " How have things gone with you since last we met 
 Three tedious months ago ? " " Well, Robert Ives. 
 Well has it been with all of us save one. 
 Your mother's eyes grow brighter every day 
 With the strange radiance of the higher life. 
 I'm glad you're going to stay awhile at home 
 For her poor sake. Robert, she yearns for you 
 Constantly. Let your love unfold itself 
 In kindest words and actions, and you'll see 
 They'll change anon to singing birds from whose 
 
IESUINA. 57 
 
 Soft throats will issue jets of liquid music, 
 That, drop by drop, will filter through her mind, 
 And yield refreshmemt to her thirsty soul 
 'Till death shall end her earthly pilgrimage." 
 "And is it only for my mother's sake 
 That you are pleased to see me, Iesuina ? 
 If I believed, — but come, we'll step aside, 
 Out of this throng and bustle for awhile, 
 For I have that to say to you to-night 
 Which none but you must hear. Mayhap you'll laugh 
 To hear a rough, sea-hardened dog like me, 
 Whose voice is cracked with howling through the storms 
 Of eighteen winters on the briny main, 
 Whine sentimentalisms at your feet. 
 In point of years I'm old enough, I know, 
 To be your father; but in intellect 
 And goodness you're the eldest. You've been raised 
 In different soil, and breathed a different air 
 To that which nurtured me. My early training 
 Was had beneath the roof-tree of a demon, 
 Whom I was taught in childhood to call — Father; 
 But since have honored with another name, 
 Oft used by sailors when their swelling wrath 
 Breaks o'er the bulwarks of their self-control; 
 A name I will not mention, for 'twould shock 
 Your unaccustomed ears. With daily blows 
 And curses did the monster mold my being 
 Almost into the pattern of his own. 
 My heart grew callous 'neath his tutelage, 
 All save one little spot kq»t moist and green 
 
58 IESUINA. 
 
 By mother's tears. Oft she bemoaned herself 
 That she had been so weak as to admit 
 Into her first beloved husband's place 
 One so unworthy as my step-father. 
 Well, one fair day I cast adrift from home, 
 And knocked about the country for awhile 
 Without a pilot, till at last I ran 
 Athwart an old sea captain, who was there 
 Enjoying, with some inland friends, his six 
 Months leave of absence. When he'd heard my tale 
 He asked my age. I told him fifteen years. 
 " Come go with me; I'll make a man of you; 
 You're just the chap I want," he said and shook 
 My hand so heartily, and looked so frank 
 And honest souled that I said ay at once; 
 For I had hankered for a sailor's life 
 From being a child. I clearly recollect 
 How I could beat most others of my age 
 At rowing, swimming, diving. Often times 
 I stretched myself at length to doze and dream 
 Upon the bosom of a quiet stream 
 That beautified the valley where we lived. 
 No bed of down, no silken coverlet 
 Could seem so soft, so pliable, so warm 
 As did those wavelets rippling over me 
 And singing in my ears sweet lullabies. 
 But I forget myself; where was I? — oh! 
 I have it now. The captain offered me 
 Good wages and a berth as cabin boy, 
 And so I went with him. Five years were spent 
 
IESUINA. 59 
 
 Before our vessel touched again the port 
 
 She started from. I sought my mother's home, 
 
 But found it owned and occupied by strangers. 
 
 They told me, welcome news, that she was free; 
 
 That he was dead, the object of my hate, 
 
 Having been murdered in a drunken brawl. 
 
 They gave me her address, which led me hither, 
 
 And here I met with you, a lovely child, 
 
 Who, when we'd grown familiar, oft would climb 
 
 Upon my knee and ask so eagerly 
 
 About the great blue ocean and its wonders, 
 
 Its ships, its fishes, and its water-spouts, 
 
 Its islands and its icebergs. Then when I 
 
 Had answered all the questions patiently, 
 
 Nothing would do but I must tell some tales 
 
 About the foreign lands and foreign folk, 
 
 Which I had seen. O dearest Iesuina! 
 
 I pray you be that little girl again, 
 
 And love me freely as you loved me then." 
 
 " I do, my friend," she earnestly rejoined; 
 
 " My love has never failed and never will. 
 I called you brother in those childish days, 
 And I regard you as my brother still. 
 Why should I not ? " " But I am not content. 
 I covet from your lips a dearer name 
 Than that of brother. Sweetheart, be my wife, 
 And let me find a quiet anchorage 
 Within the sunny haven of your bosom." 
 
 " You pain me, Robert, since you ask for that 
 I cannot grant. Why not be satisfied ? 
 
6o IESU1NA. 
 
 Do I not place full confidence in you, 
 
 And welcome you among my dearest friends ? " 
 
 "Ay, ay," impatiently he answered her; 
 
 " But think you I can brook to share your love 
 With others ? Never. Either you must be 
 Mine, mine alone, or we must part forever. 
 My life thus far has not been calm and pure 
 Like yours; it has known turbulence and crime. 
 Yes, crime. You shiver at the awful word. 
 But I will not resort to subterfuge 
 Even to win you. I'll lay bare my heart 
 Before your eyes, and, though the leopard's skin 
 Has fewer spots, believe me, Iesuina, 
 Your love has power to efface them all." 
 She laid her fingers gently on his lips, 
 And said, " I know your virtues and your failings; 
 You need confess no further. I am told 
 You are at times by gusts of passion driven 
 Upon the dangerous sand-banks of excess, 
 From which you 'scape not scathless. O, my friend! 
 Your heart is noble, generous and brave. 
 It is too good a vessel to let drift 
 At random on the treacherous sea of life. 
 Take Reason in the future for your pilot; 
 He's wise and trusty." "No, I will take you, 
 My Iesuina. You shall hold the helm, 
 And guide me as you list. I care not whither 
 You steer, East, West, or North, or South, 
 So long as the same craft receives us both." 
 Thus saying, he drew the maiden to his breast, 
 
IESUINA. 6l 
 
 And pressed his burning lips upon her cheek. 
 But she, with quiet dignity, withdrew 
 Her delicate form from his encircling arms, 
 And sadly spoke : " You are so violent 
 That you do force me to disclose a truth 
 Which much I fear will cause you bitter grief. 
 My heart and hand are pledged — are pledged to one 
 Whom I have loved and honored all my life. 
 Be calm, my friend — my brother. You are strong, 
 And should bear disappointment manfully. 
 Next unto those I live with I do love you; 
 And every morn and eve I pray to God 
 That He will send you rest and happiness." 
 ''Words, when my heart and brain are bruised and 
 crushed! 
 
 Words, when a matchless torture is applied! 
 
 Words, when a passion is consuming me! 
 
 Oh! curses on the cold, unpitying things; 
 
 They madden me. Nay, do not turn away. 
 
 Stay — hear me out. I've listened to my doom, 
 
 And know that no appeal of mine can change it. 
 
 What have I left to hope for ? what shall cheer 
 
 The gloomy desolation of my life 
 
 Since all its sunshine has forever fled ? 
 
 But there's a way to end it. I have seen 
 
 The reckless outcast plunge the glittering steel 
 
 With cool indifference in his quivering flesh, 
 
 And I can do the same." " Shame, Robert, shame! 
 
 Are you a coward ? Would you flee from life 
 
 Because it tests your unused energies 
 
62 IESUINA. 
 
 Of soul — your moral strength of mind ? 
 
 Think not I'm pitiless because my tongue 
 
 Lashes you with rebuke. My heart is sore 
 
 For you, my friend, and were it not that I 
 
 Foresee your future, somewhat, I should fail 
 
 In courage to reprove you; but I know 
 
 Angels attend you — spirits who have passed 
 
 From sin to holiness, not along a path 
 
 Bestrewn with rose leaves, but one lined with thorns 
 
 Which entered in their feet at every step. 
 
 They'll go with you, for they best understand 
 
 How to control you when you need control, 
 
 How to direct you when you go astray, 
 
 How to assist when you assistance crave. 
 
 And I shall visit you in spirit, too. 
 
 My image will appear to warn you oft 
 
 From sin and danger. You will heed its words 
 
 Of counsel though you may not think so now. 
 
 Whate'er your fate may be I'll think of you 
 
 With sisterly affection and concern. 
 
 I now must leave you. See, the throng disperses. 
 
 Do you remain here long ? " " This night I'll spend 
 
 On board my vessel, but to-morrow's dawn 
 
 Will witness my departure for the sea. 
 
 Only its storms and dangers can o'erpower 
 
 This tempest grief, that rages in my breast 
 
 And racks me so I scarce know what I say. 
 
 The Water Sprite may find another master; 
 
 She'll know no more of Robert Ives, for there's 
 
 Not room sufficient in the land-girt lakes 
 
IESUINA. 6$ 
 
 For me to fight the battle with myself. 
 If you so please, you may remember me 
 To mother. I'll not worry her by going 
 To see her since I could not stay with her 
 More than an hour. Tell her I humbly trust 
 She'll pardon her unhappy, graceless son. 
 If she cannot — why, I must bear that too, 
 Go; leave me now. No, take your hand away. 
 I'll never more shake hands with you until 
 I feel more worthy of your pure regard. 
 My gaurdian angel, — bless you — pity me! " 
 
 And so they parted. She, with head bent down, 
 
 And weeping eyes, went slowly to her home, 
 
 While he returned aboard the Water Sprite 
 
 To settle up accounts and take his leave 
 
 Of all the sailors. Much they thought and grieved 
 
 And marvelled o'er this unexpected change 
 
 In his intentions; but none guessed the cause. 
 
 Part Third. 
 
 Another year — another wave of time 
 Has rolled away beyond our mortal ken, 
 Lost in the mighty ocean of the past. 
 We say with pensive sigh, ' Well, let it go, 
 Since others come to claim our interest, 
 And only one thing at a time can have 
 Our full attention.' 
 
64 IESUINA, 
 
 Merrily beat young hearts, 
 And merrily glanced young mischief-loving eyes, 
 When clear the summer sun arose upon 
 The bridal morn of Fairy Lexington. 
 Her father's house was thronged with bidden guests 
 To witness the espousal. Laughingly 
 They held debate among them as to which, 
 The bride or bridesmaid, was the loveliest; 
 The one a delicate snowdrop, unassuming, 
 The other a stately lily, pure and pale. 
 Few would have guessed the bride to be the elder, 
 Since she, though turned of twenty-seven, appeared 
 Younger than Iesuina, not eighteen. 
 The bridegroom was a gloomy, dark-skinned man 
 Of middle age, whose furtive glances crept 
 Like thieves into his neighbor's busy brains, 
 And grappled with their consciousness, and stole 
 Their secrets from them. Many deemed it strange 
 That Fairy, child-like, frank and sunny-souled, 
 Should yield up at this sullen one's demand 
 The keys that locked and unlocked all the doors 
 Within the sacred temple of her being. 
 But so it was; and merrily smiled the sun, 
 And merrily smiled the guests upon the bridal. 
 O false, false sun! O thoughtless wedding guests! 
 
 The knot was tied; the pair resumed their seats, 
 When lo! to the astonishment of all, 
 Saving the members of the family, 
 Philip and Iesuina took their places 
 
IESUINA. 65 
 
 Before the minister, who then proceeded 
 To bind them, also, with the marriage vow. 
 The firm response ' I will ' from Philip's lips, 
 Was followed by a shriek so loud and shrill 
 That every heart contracted with affright. 
 A woman, with a maniac's frantic mien, 
 Rushed forward, and with passionate energy 
 Tore the young couple's clasping hands apart. 
 Then, sinking on her knees, she cried, aloud, 
 
 "I do forbid this marriage. Iesuina, 
 You are my daughter and his daughter, too." 
 She pointed as she spoke to Philip's father, 
 Whose half-averted face was flushed with shame. 
 
 " The curse has found you, Gilbert Lexington, 
 And will have its revenge upon you now. 
 Know, all you gathered here, this smooth-faced man 
 Deceived me with his lying promises, 
 Long years gone by, when I was ignorant 
 That he was then a husband. To my home 
 He came and won me, and betrayed my trust. 
 Soon afterward he left me, and I pined 
 In secret till my precious babe was born. 
 Although before her birth I prayed for death, 
 Soon as I looked into her beauteous eyes 
 A greedy wish for life possessed my soul, 
 And then I said, ' For thy dear sake I'll live, 
 My darling one — my pretty, innocent lamb. 
 But I was poor, and could not bring her up 
 In such a manner as I wanted to. 
 And I grew heart-sick at the thought of all 
 
66 IESU1NA. 
 
 The sneers and scorn that would be visited 
 
 By the self-righteous on the unlawful child. 
 
 So I resolved to bring the babe unto her father, 
 
 But not to let him know she was his child. 
 
 I learned what firm he dealt with in the city 
 
 Where I then lived — the city of New York; 
 
 And from the senior partner soon obtained 
 
 The full address of Gilbert Lexington. 
 
 Then, in disguise, I came here with my babe, 
 
 And, stifling all the pleadings of my soul, 
 
 The meanings of my pain, I laid the child 
 
 Upon his doorstep, that she might be nurtured, 
 
 As was her right, in her own father's house. 
 
 My heart seemed breaking when I pressed the last, 
 
 Long, famishing kiss on her unconscious mouth, 
 
 And put her from my nerveless arms away. 
 
 I watched near by until his wife returned, 
 
 (For she was absent when I brought the babe.) 
 
 I watched with eager eyes when she undid 
 
 The basket's covering — jealously watched until 
 
 I saw her pleasant countenance light up 
 
 With joy and love, the mother love, and then, 
 
 I felt my babe was safe, and stole away. 
 
 Since then with hair bedyed and borrowed name 
 
 I've lived among you, winning confidence 
 
 By steady application to the work 
 
 Your kindness furnished me. I've been of late 
 
 Employed as seamstress in this family, 
 
 And that is why I'm here to-day, my friends, 
 
 In season to prevent — thank God! thank God!— 
 
IESUINA. 67 
 
 My daughter's marriage with her father's son." 
 The woman paused, and death-like silence reigned 
 A little while, none knowing what to say, 
 Until a heavy groan from Philip's breast 
 Betrayed the laboring agony within. 
 Then Iesuina, with a face that seemed 
 Paler in hue than the white robe she wore, 
 Murmured in low and reverent tones these words: 
 11 Dear Brother, since, in His inscrutable wisdom, 
 The Lord has chosen to impose upon us 
 This burden, seeming more than we can bear, 
 Let us entreat that He will give us strength 
 Sufficient for our need. O dearest Philip! 
 Weep, freely weep; those tears will do you good; 
 See, mine burst forth in sympathy with yours; 
 He sends us tears to wash away our pain." 
 Her voice was calm and steady while she spoke, 
 But on her forehead flamed the crimson cross, 
 Betokening how her inmost soul was moved. 
 Advancing to her fostermother's side, 
 She tenderly embraced her, kissing both 
 Her pallid cheeks; then turning to the woman — 
 The weary looking woman who had made 
 The terrible disclosure, and who claimed 
 To be her natural parent, she knelt down, 
 And kissed her trembling fingers o'er and o'er, 
 And laid her cheek against her beating heart. 
 Some broken words of sympathy and love, 
 Unheard by others, passed between the pair; 
 And then, with resolution in her eye, 
 
68 IESUINA. 
 
 Spake Iesuina. " I shall go with her — 
 My new-found mother; she has need of me. 
 But first I would sincerest thanks return 
 For all the care and kindness I've received 
 Since first I entered this beloved home. 
 Be sure my memory will retain forever 
 Its deep impressions of your faithful love, 
 My dearest, dearest friends, — and now — farewell. 
 She took her mother's hand, and led her out, 
 And none presumed to stay them. ' It is best 
 For her to go away,' each felt in secret. 
 1 Under the circumstances it is best.' 
 The guests ere long departed, wondering much 
 How this unfortunate affair would end. 
 Whether the wife, so outraged and deceived, 
 Would, after thirty years of wedded life, 
 Sever the knot hymenial, or, with love 
 Forgiving and compassionate, put away 
 The memory of her husband's perfidy, 
 And still remain his household's guardian. 
 She chose the latter course, and he, in shame 
 And deep contrition, felt his punishment 
 Was greater than her anger could have wrought 
 Remorse preyed on his conscience, day by day, 
 As he beheld his son's dejected mien, 
 Once unsurpassed in manly energy, 
 And, grieving o'er the pain his sin had caused 
 To those he loved, he slowly sank and died. 
 
IESUINA. 69 
 
 Part Fourth. 
 
 When Fairy entered first her new abode, 
 
 A gloomy, restless feeling overcame 
 
 Her natural gladness and content of mind. 
 
 The very atmosphere seemed weighted with 
 
 Some dismal secret, whose dark pinions fanned 
 
 Her brow by night and day; and, when alone 
 
 She sat and mused, the silence soon became, 
 
 She knew not why, quite insupportable. 
 
 One night, while lying at her husband's side, 
 
 Her thoughts 'gan ranging o'er her bygone life; 
 
 That fair and peaceful landscape, 'mong whose hills, 
 
 And vales, and nooks, and groves, and fragrant bowers 
 
 The merry sunbeams played at hide and seek. 
 
 Farther and farther in the misty realms 
 
 Of memory they wandered, till at last 
 
 They crossed the border land of infancy, 
 
 And lost themselves amid forgotten paths. 
 
 While thus she lay communing with the past, 
 
 An icy chill crept slowly o'er her brow, 
 
 Arresting and congealing, suddenly, 
 
 The mental flow of sparkling images 
 
 Proceeding from the fountain of her brain; 
 
 And then before her wondering eyes appeared 
 
 A beauteous vision. 'Twas a female form 
 
 Robed in a vesture made of gossamer threads, 
 
 O'er which were sprinkled countless glittering stars, 
 
 So tiny that a thousand could have lain 
 
70 IESUINA. 
 
 Uncrowded in the cradle of a tear. 
 
 A golden veil, made of her own soft hair, 
 
 Rippled adown her cheeks and snowy breast 
 
 Even to her waist; and on her brow she wore 
 
 A wreath of amaranth, that exhaled an odor 
 
 More exquisite than any known on earth. 
 
 Her small white hand was raised as if in warning, 
 
 While in the other lay a withered rosebud 
 
 On which a worm was feeding. Tenderly 
 
 She seemed to gaze upon the faded thing, 
 
 Then murmuring low, 'Beware!' she passed away, 
 
 And darkness gathered where her form had been. 
 
 That icy charm dissolved to be succeeded 
 
 By the o'erpowering spell of morpheus, 
 
 And Fairy soundly slept. When she awoke 
 
 She said 4 'Twas but a dream — a curious dream 
 
 I'll think of it no farther.' So she tried 
 
 To drive away the ominous word, Beware, 
 
 That darkly lingered in her memory. 
 
 A week passed ere the vision was repeated, 
 
 But then the lovely phantom longer stayed, 
 
 And seemed more strangely earnest than before. 
 
 She pointed to the rosebud in her hand, 
 
 Then to the sleeper lying at Fairy's side, 
 
 And said, in solemn tones, "Beware of him. 
 
 Dost thou not understand ? " and with a sigh 
 
 Melted away beneath the watcher's gaze. 
 
 Again the spell of slumber overcame 
 
 The young wife's senses, and when morning dawned 
 
 Again she thought, ' 'Twas nothing but a dream.' 
 
IESUINA. 71 
 
 Yet was her spirit troubled in the days 
 And nights that followed; feelings undefined 
 Rose up from out her soul's unfathomed depth's 
 And agitatedly went to and fro, 
 Seeking they knew not what. 
 
 Another week 
 Went by, and then the spirit came again 
 To Fairy, clearer, lovelier than before. 
 No rosebud now she held, but in its place 
 Was seen an infant, beautiful in face, 
 But ah! its form was shrunken and deformed, 
 And limbless, also. Fairy gazed with wonder 
 And pity intermingled on the babe 
 While thus the phantom spake; "Behold, I come. 
 It is the third time; it will be the last. 
 Thou hast not comprehended me. I'll speak 
 In plainer terms to-night. The warning shall 
 Enter the chambers of thy mortal ears, 
 And shout so loud that echo, in thy brain, 
 Will long repeat the words it uttereth. 
 My child, thou knowest not that neath thy heart 
 A seed is germinating; yet, 'tis so; 
 And it may grow to bless thee in the future 
 If thou canst unmolested nurture it 
 With thy unblemished body and pure mind; 
 But he thou trustest hath a poisonous breath 
 That, falling on thy undeveloped flower, 
 Will blight it and defeat fond Nature's plan. 
 Behold the mutilated little one 
 
72 IESUINA. 
 
 My arms sustain; look on it and beware! 
 
 To us whom ye call angels thus it came. 
 
 Myriads of such unfortunates we know 
 
 Are daily launched into our spirit realms 
 
 By ignorant, reckless parents, who thus darken 
 
 Their future that might else be fair and bright. 
 
 Mortals who with indignant horror view 
 
 The deed called murder perpetrated on 
 
 A living, palpitating human being 
 
 Made tangible to dull material senses, 
 
 Will quite remorselessly destroy the form 
 
 They deem is visible to God alone. 
 
 Enough, my child; I've warned thee; be not tempted 
 
 Against thy better nature to do evil. 
 
 I go — be wise — be firm — and now — farewell." 
 
 A flood of darkness seemed to Fairy's vision 
 
 To swallow up the sunshine of that presence 
 
 Which never more appeared to her in life. 
 
 Long did she muse, and fitful were her musings. 
 
 Now joyful, now despondent, now inspired 
 
 With hope, and now oppressed with fear and gloom. 
 
 O mothers, you will understand her well — 
 
 You who have trembled when 'twas first revealed 
 
 That in the hid recesses of your being 
 
 A new germ was unfolding, all dependant 
 
 Upon you for its welfare in this world. 
 
 As time went on and Fairy realized 
 
 The truth that in her own form's sanctuary 
 
 The mystery, yet unsolved by human thought, 
 
IESUINA. 73 
 
 Of Deity's incarnation had been wrought, 
 A strong desire possessed her to impart 
 The knowledge unto him who of all others 
 Should most encourage her amid the trials 
 Attendant always on maternity; 
 For, patient, suffering mothers, well you know 
 If ever sympathizing love is needed 
 By sensitive natures, it is needed then. 
 
 One evening when, in pleasant rivalry, 
 
 The lamps and fire essayed to flood the room 
 
 With more than wonted splendor, Fairy drew 
 
 A footstool near the sofa whereon lay 
 
 Her husband. Taking then his hand in hers, 
 
 She laid her cheek upon it, and, in tones 
 
 Made tremulous by the feeling in her heart, 
 
 She told her secret. What was the result ? 
 
 No warm response, no fond embrace, no smile 
 
 Of joy repaid the young wife's confidence. 
 
 Silence prevailed until she, weeping, said, 
 
 In broken accents, "Why are you not glad ? " 
 
 Then did he turn and coldly answer her, 
 
 "Because I want no puling brats about 
 
 To plague and fret me in their infancy 
 
 And thwart and curse me when they're older grown. 
 
 If you so love me as you have professed, 
 
 You'll see to it in time that no such vipers 
 
 Are propagated. There are many ways 
 
 Of crushing them ere they have left their nests, 
 
 And all who take this sensible course confer 
 
74 IESUINA. 
 
 A blessing on the over-peopled world. 5 * 
 
 Fairy released his hand and in mute horror 
 
 Crouched on the floor while loudly in her ears, 
 
 As if some clear-toned bell had pealed the words. 
 
 There rang, 'Beware of him! beware of him! ' 
 
 He then continued, — "Maybe you are shocked 
 
 To hear me speak thus; but you're over nice. 
 
 I only ask you to commit an act 
 
 Which thousands of good, moral, christian women 
 
 Perform in secret, and talk lightly of 
 
 With one another." " O, it cannot be! " 
 
 Cried Fairy; " Surely never mother lived, 
 
 I mean a christian mother, who could kill 
 
 Her offspring. Pagan mothers do, I know; 
 
 But they, poor creatures, think they're pleasing God 
 
 By sacrificing unto Him their babes, 
 
 Their best beloved on earth." "Oh well," he said, 
 
 Go ask physicians — old ones who have had 
 
 Extensive practice; they'll enlighten you. 
 
 For you, my wife, are woefully ignorant 
 
 Of many things — innocent some would term it; 
 
 But in my estimation innocence 
 
 And ignorance are one. Ask them, I say; 
 
 They'll tell you, and with truth, that where one child 
 
 Is sacrificed in heathendom, no less 
 
 Than fifty are destroyed in Christendom. 
 
 The only difference 'twixt the heathen mother 
 
 And she who claims to follow Christ, 
 
 Is that the first lets Nature have her course 
 
 Until the child has breathed the atmosphere 
 
IESUINA. 75 
 
 And lain awhile upon her dusky breast; 
 
 Then, with her earthly and her heavenly love 
 
 Fiercely conflicting, swift she rushes forth 
 
 And flings her bantling to the crocodile, 
 
 And feels her God's appeased, her duty's done. 
 
 While she, who's trained in Christian schools, who's 
 
 born 
 Of Christian parents, knowing that the laws 
 Both human and divine pronounce child murder 
 An heinous crime, evades the penalty 
 Attached to it and, like a sensible woman, 
 Destroys her offspring ere it sees the light; 
 Thus ridding it, herself, and family, 
 Of much annoyance, sorrow, pain and care." 
 I'm but a child in knowledge," Fairy said, 
 But it does seem to me that pain, and care, 
 And sorrow, and annoyance are in truth 
 God's purifying agents, sent to change 
 Our human nature into the angelic. 
 Why should we seek to shun them since they come 
 With such high purpose — since their magical touch 
 Converts us into angels?" "Devils, rather!" 
 Abruptly, he exclaimed. " Don't sermonize 
 Like this to me. I'm older, and know more 
 Of life than you, I trow. Let us return 
 Unto the starting point. Will you regard 
 My wishes, yield a wife's obedience, 
 Or will you, like a froward child, provoke 
 My anger ?" Fairy's voice was calm and firm 
 While thus she answered. "I will do my best 
 
76 IESUINA. 
 
 To guard, to cherish, to improve the soul 
 
 Consigned to me. My love, my life, shall stand 
 
 'Twixt it and danger till it shall attain 
 
 Sufficient bodily and mental strength 
 
 To serve, protect and elevate itself." 
 
 To this he nought replied, but on his face 
 
 A dark expression settled, and the air 
 
 About him grew so suddenly chill that she 
 
 Could feel its coldness pierce her genial heart. 
 
 He presently arose, and in dumb anger, 
 
 Ever more dangerous than noisy rage, 
 
 Strode from the room. Soon afterward she heard 
 
 The street door's sullen clang as it was shut 
 
 In haste behind him; then the young wife bowed 
 
 Her head upon her hands and wept and prayed 
 
 For strength and guidance in her future course. 
 
 When he returned at midnight, all was dark 
 
 And silent in the mansion — she had fled. 
 
 Part Fifth. 
 
 There was a storm upon the deep. The waves 
 
 Of ocean rose in wrath against the clouds, 
 
 And battled with them. Eagerly they sought 
 
 To grasp their enemies and drag them down 
 
 Into their seething, terrible abysses. 
 
 Upon their side, with hideous shriek and wail, 
 
 The wild winds fought, and strove to tear the clouds 
 
 To fragments and disperse them through the skies. 
 
 But they had called the lightnings to their aid. 
 
IESUINA. 77 
 
 Who pierced with glittering spears the boastful billows, 
 
 While all the thunders clapped their hands and roared 
 
 In hoarse applause. From rise to set of sun 
 
 The conflict had continued, and white clots 
 
 Of foam hung thick on ocean's tumbled mane; 
 
 But still no signs of faltering were perceived 
 
 On either side by those who watched the strife 
 
 With interest and wonder. Many were 
 
 The cottages that lined the rocky co'ast 
 
 Of that part of New England where unite 
 
 The states of Massachusetts and New Hampshire. 
 
 Poor were the inmates, mainly, and the men 
 
 Provided for their families by entrapping 
 
 Unwary members of the finny tribe 
 
 As they disported in their briny bath. 
 
 This eve, however, all sat hushed around 
 
 Their cheerful firesides; for when Nature yields 
 
 To passion's fierce, ungovernable sway, 
 
 Man, awed by her excess, grows strangely calm 
 
 And thoughtful witnessing her mighty power. 
 
 Anon, amid the tumult of the waves, 
 
 The bellowing of the winds, the thunder's roar, 
 
 There came a sound which sent a deathly chill 
 
 Into all pitying hearts. It was a gun 
 
 From some doomed vessel by destruction driven 
 
 Too near the dangerous reef. When it was heard 
 
 The listless forms within the cottages 
 
 Grew active on a sudden. Hats and coats, 
 
 Rough like the wearers, and like them stout and true, 
 
 Were seized and donned in haste, and ropes and planks 
 
78 IESUINA. 
 
 And other needful articles were borne 
 On shoulders broad, toward the slippery beach. 
 The fishermen their practiced vision strained, 
 But nothing could discern until a stroke 
 Of lightning fired the murky atmosphere 
 For one brief instant; then the ship was seen; 
 But whether on the heaving sea she rode, 
 Or on the billowy clouds, no mortal eye 
 Could well determine. Still at intervals 
 Her call for aid came booming through the storm 
 And shook each stalwart frame with deep emotion; 
 For well these listeners knew what agonies 
 Of thought, what tortured feelings found 
 An utterance in that cannon's loud report. 
 Two anxious hours the men walked to and fro 
 Upon the beach, or stood in silent groups, 
 During which time the gallant vessel held 
 Her own against the ravening elements. 
 At length the minute gun no more was heard 
 And then they shook their heads and murmured low 
 "The ship has surely struck and swamped!" 
 
 As if 
 To verify their words, an angry wave 
 Flung at their feet a pale and ghastly corse. 
 Soon other bodies followed. Some were lashed 
 To boards; some clung, with stiffened, bloodless hands, 
 To fragments severed from the vessel's masts; 
 But all, save one, were lost to earthly life. 
 This one forlorn survivor of the wreck 
 Had been so mauled, so bruised, so buffeted 
 
IESUINA. 79 
 
 By the mad waves that he lay quite bereft 
 Of consciousness; yet burned the lamp of life 
 With faint and flickering radiance in his breast. 
 
 " What's best to do for him ? " the men inquired 
 Of one another, when one forward stepped 
 And said, "We'll carry him to Mistress Grove's 
 And let her daughter tend him; she has brought 
 Many a dying wight to life again. 
 Her very look brings healing, I believe; 
 She is so good and sinless of herself." 
 The rest assenting, soon the man was borne 
 To one of the white cottages that stood 
 fronting the ocean. Answering their knock 
 Two women came, one young and beautiful, 
 The other middle-aged, whose chastened mien 
 Betokened care and sorrow in the past. 
 With kindly words they bade their neighbors bring 
 Their burden in the house, which, being done, 
 They both drew nigh to gaze upon his face. 
 Soon as the younger woman's glances fell 
 Upon him she, with trembling voice, exclaimed 
 
 "O mother, mother! it is Robert Ives! 
 You knew him, did you not, in years gone by ? " 
 
 "Yes, Iesuina, yes, I knew him well. 
 Poor fellow, it is he, indeed! indeed! 
 Quick bring the cordial; we must rescue him 
 From death if possible." When his eyes unclosed, 
 The face of Iesuina was the first 
 Fair object they beheld. He looked on it 
 Awhile in wondering silence, then exclaimed 
 
80 IESU1NA. 
 
 Abruptly, in his own old way, "Good God! 
 Where am I. anchored? Is this heaven or earth ?" 
 
 " Tis both," she gently said, " for God is here, 
 And heaven attends His presence. He has saved 
 Your life this night when many others perished. 
 He saved and brought you hither to your friends." 
 Long explanations followed when the men 
 Had all departed. Then, in softened tones, 
 He told how he had wrestled night and day 
 With his rebellious nature, till, at last, 
 Virtue had proudly triumphed over passion; 
 How he had grown to think of her as one 
 Set high like some fair star to be adored 
 But never reached. The while he talked of her, 
 Warm blushes overspread her cheek and brow, 
 And the soft, dove-like eyes refused to meet 
 His earnest gaze. The mother now related 
 Her daughter's story — sad — unusual — 
 To which he listened in astonishment 
 And hidden rapture that she now was free. 
 
 " Yet free! yet free! " the syren songster, Hope, 
 Warbled to his fond heart. "Yet free! yet free!" 
 Then sternly he rebuked himself for thus 
 Rejoicing when her soul had suffered pain 
 Most terrible if she had loved like him. 
 
 When morning, with her fair face wreathed in smiles, 
 Approached, the night with all its horrors fled 
 In haste before her. Still the sea disdained 
 To hearken to her calm, persuasive voice; 
 
IESUINA. 
 
 And moaned and tossed in fierce disquietude 
 
 For many hours. The beech was thickly strewn 
 
 With fragments of the wreck, and men and women, 
 
 With eager faces, raked the yielding sand 
 
 For sea-imbedded treasures. Tenderly 
 
 The bodies were prepared for burial 
 
 By the warm-hearted people of the coast. 
 
 As many heartfelt sighs, perhaps, were breathed, 
 
 As many real tears of sorrow shed 
 
 Upon the strangers' monumentless graves, 
 
 As oft attends the pompous funerals 
 
 Of fashion's votaries, when the sombre hearse, 
 
 Preceding an array of carriages, 
 
 Some without occupants, pursues its way 
 
 Scarce noticed through the city's crowded streets. 
 
 In Iesuina's home the ship-wrecked one 
 
 Slept long and soundly, and awoke refreshed 
 
 In mind and body; for the atmosphere 
 
 Around was permeated by the pure 
 
 Magnetic aura of the higher life, 
 
 That, drawn by strong affinity, attends 
 
 Our earth's angelic-souled inhabitants. 
 
 A new surprise awaited Robert Ives, 
 
 For when the cheerful dinner hour drew nigh 
 
 There came to greet him Fairy Lexington 
 
 And a bright, blue-eyed boy of five years old, 
 
 Who called her mother, and who ruled with power 
 
 Despotic in that little family group. 
 
 Yes, this had been her refuge since she fled 
 
 In terror from the tyrant who had sought 
 
IESUINA. 
 
 To load her with a foul, unnatural crime. 
 
 And what of him ? you ask. Well, he no more 
 
 Was found in any of the haunts of life. 
 
 He had escaped to that mysterious realm 
 
 Where, let us trust, he learns, in higher schools, 
 
 Great Wisdom's lessons of true holiness. 
 
 Before he crossed death's river he addressed 
 
 A letter to his wife, which told how he 
 
 Had violated, in his early life, 
 
 The laws of God and Nature — how he'd struck 
 
 Pain's venomous dagger to his father's heart, 
 
 Who, on his dying bed, thus prophesied, 
 
 In solemn tones: "My son, if thou dost live 
 
 Until thy children grow to man's estate, 
 
 Thou shalt be cursed by them more cruelly 
 
 Than I, thy father, have been cursed by thee; 
 
 Remember this." The prophecy, then despised, 
 
 Cankered his memory in after life, 
 
 And oft unto himself he swore that none 
 
 Should call him father — should survive to breathe 
 
 The tainted air of earth. Remorse and gloom 
 
 Oppressed his soul when at his board was seen 
 
 No more the sweet face of his innocent wife; 
 
 Until, at last, incited by despair, 
 
 He tore his own life's wedded links apart. 
 
 Part Sixth. 
 
 'O beauteous sunset! O celestial sea 
 Of blended green and gold and crimson hues, 
 
IESUINA. S$ 
 
 O'er which the silvery cloud-fleets smoothly glide. 
 
 My soul aspires to dip its wings in thee, 
 
 Thou tranquil deep, thou bath of poesy!" 
 
 Thus Iesuina murmured, as she stood 
 
 Upon the sands one golden summer's eve. 
 
 But Robert Ives, who saw within her eyes 
 
 All that was lovely in the earth or skies, 
 
 Impetuously exclaimed, "My soul prefers 
 
 To dip its pinions in a sweeter bath — 
 
 The ocean of delight surrounding thee. 
 
 O Iesuina, once again I sue 
 
 For this dear hand. Be thou my precious wife. 
 
 Sure nothing, darling, stands between us now." 
 
 She yielded for a moment to the fond 
 
 And almost fierce carresses heaped upon her, — 
 
 How could she otherwise ? then bowed her head 
 
 Upon his bosom, whispering, "Only death." 
 
 What mean you, Iesuina?" he inquired, 
 
 Shivering with terror at the ominous words. 
 
 She took his hand and held it to her heart 
 
 While thus she spake: "My friend, I long have 
 
 known 
 That an incurable disease lurked here 
 Gnawing and gnawing through the days and nights. 
 But I have kept the secret to myself 
 That mother might find happiness on earth 
 A little longer. I am all in all 
 To her, as I believe I am to you." 
 
 He felt like one who, drowning, stretches forth 
 His hand to grasp some buovant object near, 
 
84 IESUINA. 
 
 And sees it float away beyond his reach. 
 
 " My God! why is it we must suffer so 
 In life ?" he said. " What good can e'er result 
 From disappointments, heartfelt wretchedness, 
 Losses and sickness, pain of body and mind, 
 And all the evils we are doomed to know ? " 
 
 " They all have their good uses," she replied. 
 
 " They lift the mind from earthly hopes and loves 
 To heavenly aspirations and affections. 
 They kindle on the altar of the soul 
 A purifying flame, that quick consumes 
 All grosser particles within our natures, 
 And fits us for the after life divine. 
 You're better, nobler for your sorrows, Robert; 
 You'll be yet nobler in the time to come, 
 And love me with a purer, higher love 
 Than that which agitates your being now. 
 I'll hover near thee. I'll watch over thee 
 With all a guardian angel's patient care. 
 And thou wilt join me when thou hast become 
 God-like in virtue and in self control. 
 Have faith, have faith; believe my prophecy 
 As thou believest in my swerveless truth." 
 He knelt before her, and laid his brow 
 Upon her hand, while thus he answered her: 
 
 "For thee I will subdue my selfishness; 
 For thee I'll suffer martyrdom; for thee 
 Restrain my passionate yearnings, and allow 
 Nought to allure me from the holy path 
 Wherein thou walkest, O mine own, mine own! " 
 
IESU1NA. 85 
 
 Part Seventh. 
 
 Again 'tis eventide; and silently 
 
 The dew descends to bless the beauteous flowers 
 
 That gently swing their perfumed censers o'er 
 
 The graves of Iesuina and her mother. 
 
 Beside them stands a group of human forms 
 
 Whose faces are familiar. Robert Ives, 
 
 Ennobled by the sorrow he has proved, 
 
 Breathes from his inmost soul impassioned thoughts 
 
 Around her who in spirit smiles beside him — 
 
 The Iesuina of his past and future. 
 
 Not far from him are Fairy and her child, 
 
 And Philip Lexington, whose arm is thrown 
 
 Supportingly about his mother's waist, — 
 
 His aged mother who has come to take 
 
 A last look at the grave in which is hid 
 
 The mortal raiment of her foster daughter 
 
 Ere she returns with her beloved ones 
 
 To their old home beside the murmuring lake. 
 
 They lingered long as loth to quit the place, 
 
 Until the full moon, in her silver car 
 
 Swift riding, left the horizon far behind; 
 
 Then with a blessing on each trembling lip, 
 
 They left those twin graves in the care of God. 
 
Miscellaneous Poems. 
 
ODE TO LIFE. 
 
 INCOMPREHENSIBLE art thou, O Life! 
 O stern, weird priestess of the Deity! 
 Cradled in darkness, reared amid the strife 
 Of warring elements, we gaze on thee 
 With mingled love and awe, not knowing what we see. 
 
 For thou art veiled, and none may rend away 
 
 The filmy covering that envelops thee; 
 
 And youth matures, and manhood groweth gray 
 
 While vainly seeking for the magic key 
 
 That shall unlock thy lips, thou stubborn mystery. 
 
 Near to Eternity's wide open gate, 
 
 Whose cloud-hung pillars tower above the sky, 
 
 Thou standest, and each traveller, desolate, 
 
 Kisses thy garments as he passes by, 
 
 And loses thee, how oft, with fond, regretful sigh. 
 
 Thou art attended by a motley throng 
 Of handmaidens, who minister to thee, 
 Now bringing thee a prayer, and now a song, 
 And now a curse, which last annulled shall be, 
 From the surrounding kingdom of Humanity. 
 
 The Past behind thee waits in pensive mood; 
 Her dark hair, falling o'er her gloomy brow, 
 
90 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Sparkles with gems, the legacies of the good, 
 And great, and wise, who labored long below 
 The Heavens celestial, where they live and labor now. 
 
 The Present, cleaving closely to thy side, 
 Upon thee turns her eager, hopeful eyes. 
 
 "O mistress sweet! though good or ill betide, 
 I will remain thy faithful slave," she cries, 
 
 " And aid with all my strength thine every enterprise." 
 
 Anon, about fair Hope she wreathes her arms, 
 And lays her cheek upon her snowy breast; 
 And then to thee, O Life, the pair sing psalms 
 Of wondrous beauty, counselling thee to rest 
 In peace, since Truth proclaims, God wills all for the 
 best. 
 
 The Future, veiled and mantled, like a star 
 All shrouded in a silver-fringed cloud, 
 Lifteth her voice to greet thee from afar. 
 "Welcome!" she cries, in accents clear and loud, 
 11 O sovereign Queen of Life, to serve thee I have vowed. 
 
 I'll spread a smoother pathway for thy feet; 
 
 I'll weave a brighter covering for thy head; 
 
 I'll give Content, to make thy train complete; 
 
 And Harmony, whose mission 'tis to wed 
 
 And bring all jarring souls to one blest marriage bed. 
 
 Then shall thy subjects see thee face to face, 
 And learn to understand thy purposes 
 Until, inspired, they lovingly embrace, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 91 
 
 And tell each other of their inward bliss, 
 
 And glowing dreams of joy exceeding even this." 
 
 Thus sings the Future. Let us then await 
 
 Her beautiful approach, and hourly pray 
 
 That it may be our spirits' blessed fate, 
 
 Even while they animate these forms of clay, 
 
 To witness thee revealed, O Life, by Truth's clear ray. 
 
 ANGEL TEACHINGS. 
 
 OWHEN the sunset furls her golden banner, 
 And daylight fades away, 
 When planetary hosts rise on our vision, 
 
 When flows the milky way, 
 Bathing the brow of night in streams of glory, 
 Come, love, to me, I pray, 
 
 And I will tell thee of a rare existence 
 
 Beyond Death's heritage; 
 And read to thee what Truth herself has written, 
 
 From a celestial page; 
 And show thee wonders yet unthought, undreamed of 
 
 By mortal bard or sage. 
 
 When, unobscured, thy heaven-directed vision 
 Pierces the walls of space, 
 
92 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And, unrestrained, thy soul with mine may wander, 
 
 What pathways we will trace, 
 Leading to Nature's innermost recesses, 
 
 Replete with every grace. 
 
 There we will open Wisdom's mighty volume, 
 
 And I'll unfold to thee 
 Whate'er thou comprehendest not, O loved one, 
 
 Of its grand imagery; 
 For it is full of deep and hidden meaning 
 
 To which is found no key. 
 
 But we explain it as we understand it. 
 
 What more can any do? 
 We are immortal teachers of earth's offspring, 
 
 Whose clouded eyes but view 
 A pigmy sand-hill where we see a mountain 
 
 Uprear its crest of blue. 
 
 Heaven is within you and around you; ever 
 
 Its angels hear you call; 
 But well we know that from your spirit's vision 
 
 The blinding scales must fall 
 Ere you can grasp at will the great creations 
 
 Or the exceeding small. 
 
 Believe us, man has but a faint conception 
 
 Of what himself contains, 
 Or the dense orb that holds him to its bosom 
 
 By strong material chains, 
 Or the light atmosphere that surges round it 
 
 And his control disdains. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 93 
 
 The meanest weed your feet have crushed in passing 
 
 Along the dusty road, 
 The, to you, loathsome reptile which you start from, 
 
 The worm beneath the sod, 
 Bear all of them, enstamped upon their natures, 
 
 The sacred seal of God. 
 
 We need not tell you this of birds and flowers, 
 
 Whose beauty you adore; 
 We need not tell you this of stars and rainbows, 
 
 For oft to them you soar, 
 And at your poet-font of fervent feeling 
 
 Baptize them o'er and o'er. 
 
 These have developed into grace external 
 
 Of form; we have no need 
 To bid you love them, and be glad in loving, 
 
 And yield them ample meed 
 Of praise; then let us turn, dispassioned, 
 
 To reptile, worm and weed. 
 
 Even they, my love, were fair to you in childhood, 
 
 Before your infant eyes 
 Were taught by prejudice to loathe and shun them; 
 
 Ay, there the secret lies; 
 The teachings of the elder mold the younger; 
 
 Then should the first be wise. 
 
 Nature makes no distinction 'mong her children; 
 They all draw from her breast 
 
94 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The nourishment they need, and all in garments 
 
 Most suitable are dressed. 
 Then why with self-debasing scorn should any 
 
 Look down upon the rest ? 
 
 Each atom is an undeveloped treasure — 
 
 A germ from which may spring, 
 To grace the annals of a far-off future, 
 
 Some great and glorious thing; 
 Then judge not rashly, child, the meanest creature 
 
 That chance may near you bring. 
 
 Perfect thyself, and be thou self-sustaining; 
 
 Revere Christ's golden rule; 
 And hearken unto Reason when he urges; 
 
 No longer play the fool; 
 Be taught no more by Prejudice and Folly, 
 
 But go to Wisdom's school. 
 
 THE ANGEL'S PROPHECY. 
 
 AN ANGEL with the prophet's far-off look, 
 Uttered these words in my attentive ear: 
 " Child, in the darksome ages of the past 
 A chilling vapor overspread the world, 
 And only they who had the strength and will 
 To scale the loftiest mountains, could perceive 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 95 
 
 The dawn that heralded the near approach 
 
 Of that most glorious orb, the sun of knowledge. 
 
 The seers, of whom some were to good inclined, 
 
 And some to evil, being thus informed 
 
 More than their brethren of the vales and plains, 
 
 Came down among them to impart the news 
 
 So wondrous of a grand and perfect day 
 
 That soon would bathe them in celestial light. 
 
 But now the evil-minded prophets taught 
 
 That they possessed the supernatural power 
 
 To hasten or retard the blessed event 
 
 For which all looked with upturned, anxious eyes. 
 
 Then did the trembling awe-struck multitude 
 
 With reverence gather round these self-styled gods 
 
 To do them homage. Thus their thrones were built 
 
 Upon credulity, and they became 
 
 Tyrants and libertines. The earth with blood 
 
 Was deluged, and Peace sought in vain to teach 
 
 The useful and the ornamental arts. 
 
 Slowly the sun ascended, and across 
 
 The murky sky the swift cloud-couriers sped, 
 
 Bearing their lustrous banners stamped with words 
 
 So legible that all might read with ease: 
 
 Justice, Equality, Love, Wisdom, Truth, 
 
 Emancipation from the festering chains 
 
 Of Selfishness and Sin and Ignorance. 
 
 Freedom for all to worship as they list 
 
 The Soul divine that Nature animates. 
 
 Such were the mottoes on those flags of light; 
 
 And they became enstamped upon the minds 
 
 Of all whose aspirations upward turned. 
 
g6 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Higher the sun ascended, and the hills 
 
 Were wreathed in splendor, and the darkness cowered 
 
 And clung in terror to the skirts of earth. 
 
 Electric thrills of expectation stirred 
 
 The depths of human feeling. Men began 
 
 To think and slowly question one another. 
 
 Reason was heard with calmness and respect, 
 
 While Superstition drooped her sable wings, 
 
 Bewailing her unhappy future lot, 
 
 Since universal and despotic power 
 
 Might ne'er be hers to wield at will again. 
 
 Still higher climbs the sun, and now the brows — 
 
 The upturned foreheads of the multitude, 
 
 Are bathed in his pellucid waves of light. 
 
 Men, wondering, learn of things they dreamed not ot 
 
 While groping in the darkness of the past. 
 
 They see the vastness of their sphere of life, 
 
 That farther reaches than e'en thought itself 
 
 Into the measureless deep on every side. 
 
 They see the shining opportunities 
 
 Bejewelling the mantle of the future. 
 
 They see each other's weakness, and they learn 
 
 To lean on the Creator, not the creature. 
 
 fhey see the foot-prints of the Deity 
 
 Impressed on Nature everywhere. They see 
 
 Their former soulless idols shattered fall 
 
 Before Progression, who, in trumpet tones, 
 
 Cries, ' Men and women, these momentous times, 
 
 Foretold so oft by prophets in the past, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Are now revealing to your startled view 
 
 Their marvelous creation. Live and learn. 
 
 Ere long yon golden beams shall flood the earth, 
 
 And swallow all the lingering shades of night. 
 
 Then will Heaven stoop to clasp in fond embrace 
 
 The enraptured World, and crown her placid brow 
 
 With fair Perfection's never-fading wreath. 
 
 Take courage, ye who with despondence mourn 
 
 The piteous wrongs of poor humanity; 
 
 Lift up your drooping heads: the blessed hour, 
 
 The hour of change, draws nigh; the hour draws nigh. 
 
 GERM GROWTH. 
 
 ONE smiling morn we placed, with eager hands, 
 The seed of an endeavor in the earth, 
 And prayed that God would bless it with His love. 
 That seed has germinated. From its heart 
 A tender shoot has risen, and in all 
 Its fibres throbs the wondrous pulse of life. 
 O ye, who have the seedling in your care, 
 Neglect it not. Destroy all hurtful weeds 
 That would pollute its infant purity. 
 Let the warm sunshine and the healthful air 
 Have access to it. Feed its spreading roots 
 With soil nutritious, that it may expand 
 To noble stature in the coming time. 
 
98 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 No ingrate shall you find your foster-child; 
 
 It will repay your labor and your care 
 
 A thousand fold when sage maturity 
 
 Has crowned with wisdom its imperial head. 
 
 The tiny buds that on its stem appear 
 
 Will grow to sheltering branches, where you may 
 
 Find pleasant refuge from the furious storms 
 
 That hurl confusion in the lower spheres. 
 
 Its leaves shall drip with balm to heal your wounds. 
 
 Its boughs will shake into your outstretched hands 
 
 Their precious burden of delicious fruit. 
 
 Cherubs, in form of birds, shall sit and sing 
 
 Among its foliage songs of gratitude. 
 
 Their tuneful strains shall move all those who hear 
 
 To blessed deeds of love and charity, 
 
 Whose influence will spread from zone to zone 
 
 Impregnating the viewless atmosphere. 
 
 Then Life, deep-drinking from Truth's mighty fount, 
 
 From day to day shall better, purer grow, 
 
 Till she has realized the blissful dreams 
 
 Of poets, prophets, seers in ages past. 
 
 O let us wait with patience until then, 
 
 Doing, meanwhile, the work assigned to us 
 
 By the arch-ruler of our destiny. 
 
 Each soul shall know its own allotted task; 
 
 Each is responsible for its own deeds; 
 
 No more, nor less; then let us all look well 
 
 Unto ourselves, our thoughts, our words, our acts; 
 
 They are the steps by which we mount to heaven, 
 
 Or else, alas! alas! descend to hell. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 99 
 
 A DREAM GLIMPSE OF AIDENN. 
 
 THE moon unveiled her brow of flame 
 To light the dark-winged evening hours, 
 While through my open window came 
 The scented breath of summer flowers. 
 
 No song arose from gleeful bird, 
 
 No wandering breeze awoke a sound; 
 
 The insect's chirp alone was heard 
 To break the quietude profound. 
 
 I slept. Ah heaven! how sweet is sleep 
 To weary hearts and weary brains; 
 
 How sweet the dreams that mist-like creep 
 Above our waking cares and pains. 
 
 I slept, and the goddess of visions drew near me, 
 And pressed on my eyelids her magical spell. 
 "O sad one," she murmured, "nor tremble, nor fear me, 
 I come from my castle of moonbeams to cheer thee; 
 Confide in my friendship and all will be well." 
 
 Soon, hand clasped in hand, we ascended together 
 The glittering staircase of star-lighted air; 
 Up, higher and higher, till light as a feather 
 We floated at will in the rarified ether, 
 And gazed on creation, so grand and so fair. 
 
IOO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Above us, beneath us, around us were glowing, 
 
 In radiant colors, the systems of worlds. 
 
 Far spread were those seed-pearls of Nature's own sowing 
 
 And countless as are the soft flakes when 'tis snowing 
 
 Or sun sparkles dancing in Neptune's white curls. 
 
 Advancing, receding in musical motion — 
 
 For motion is music as friendship is love — 
 
 They awoke in my brain thoughts of tender devotion 
 
 And the ice in my heart, 'neath the warmth of emotion, 
 
 Dissolved while I sought the rare chance to improve. 
 
 "Sweet Guide," I exclaimed, "my young spirit is burning 
 To search out the mysteries life holds concealed; 
 O why should my soul feel such passionate yearning 
 For knowledge and truth, far beyond my discerning, 
 If nought of their grandeur may now be revealed! " 
 
 The words were scarce uttered, when lo! to my vision 
 The vast space seemed peopled with beautiful things. 
 There angels, intent on their God-given mission 
 Of love to poor mortals yet far from Elysium, 
 Flashed hither and thither on thought's lightning wings. 
 
 There Flora, o'erjoyed, poured her wonderous creations, 
 
 Her rarest conceptions, at Poesy's feet, 
 
 Who, smiling, accepted the graceful oblations, 
 
 And crowned them at once with her high inspirations, 
 
 And gave them a place near Eternity's seat. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PnEMS. IOI 
 
 There Wisdom's grand temples spread, bird-like, their 
 
 pinions 
 O'er myriads of souls seeking knowledge like mine; 
 And I knew that I breathed in Truth's mighty dominions 
 At last, and I said, " I will kneel with thy minions, 
 And worship thee ever, O spirit divine!" 
 
 " All nature, my child, is a school of instruction " ; 
 Thus whispered my guide while conducting me forth. 
 " Desire it and thou shalt receive by induction 
 The knowledge contained in each varied production 
 That graces the form of the beautiful earth. 
 
 Immortal thou art, and predestined to gather 
 Rare fruits in the gardens of wisdom and joy; 
 Then yield to despondence no longer, but, rather, 
 Have faith in creation's all bountiful Father, 
 Whose love buildeth ever, but will not destroy. 
 
 Too fine for thy vision, too deep for thy reason 
 Are things appertaining to these mystic spheres; 
 Go back to thy birth-place again, for a season, 
 Till death, high dictator, proclaims 'tis no treason 
 To break thy allegiance with time's circling years. 
 
 Then, freed from earth trammels, thy jubilant spirit 
 Shall soar to the peace-hallowed regions on high, 
 Where soon it will proudly and gladly inherit 
 The lovely domains, purchased solely by merit, 
 For those who have sought her with vigilant eye." 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Descending to my mist-robed home, 
 
 I entered it, with noiseless tread, 
 While like a wreath of white sea-foam 
 
 Chased by the breeze, my guardian fled. 
 
 Since when, although no brighter seems 
 
 My outer life, full well I know 
 That, bathed in inspiration's streams, 
 
 My soul has ta'en a richer glow. 
 
 I drink the lily's fragrant breath, 
 
 The fire-heart of the rose I bare, 
 And watch them till the change called death 
 
 Removes the forms to me so fair. 
 
 Then with my spirit eyes I see 
 
 Their sweet life feeding higher things, 
 
 Their beauty rising silently 
 
 To purer climes, on viewless wings. 
 
 Ah! now I sing, with clear-browed Truth, 
 
 Through want and woe, through dread and pain, 
 
 My soul be joyful, for in sooth 
 
 There is no loss; all change is gain. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. I03 
 
 THE CRY OF THE DESOLATE. 
 
 FORTUNE, list to our appeal; 
 Turn, oh, turn thy fateful wheel. 
 Turn joy up, and sorrow down; 
 Let content its apex crown. 
 We have shed enough of tears 
 In the sullen, bygone years. 
 We have poured our share of groans 
 On the city's paving-stones. 
 
 Go, hard-hearted sceptics, go 
 Ask of them, if you would know 
 What we suffer, night by night, 
 When the street-lamps are alight. 
 They are witnesses for us; 
 They can tell you of our curse, 
 We, who walk with want and shame, 
 We, who bear a blasted name. 
 
 They have seen a mother, wild 
 With despair, destroy her child; 
 Dash its brains out 'gainst the wall; 
 Sink it in the moaning river; 
 Heard her heap upon the Giver 
 Curses loud and horrible, 
 While the tiny form went down — 
 Seed in death untimely sown. 
 
104 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 They have seen a woman tear 
 Soft locks from her flowing hair, 
 Trample them beneath her feet 
 In a rage you dare not meet. 
 They have seen her beat her breast 
 Till the blood in rills ran down 
 O'er her lace-bedizened gown, 
 Raving in her sore distress 
 Like the ancient Pythoness, 
 Only that her ecstasy 
 Was a cruel agony, 
 While the Priestess, it is said, 
 Revelled in high bliss instead. 
 
 They have seen a woman sell 
 Soul and body into hell, 
 Urged by gaunt starvation on, 
 And some loved one's pleading moan- 
 Some forlorn dependent, dearer 
 Far to her than life or fame — 
 Seen her, as the tempter nearer 
 Drew, accept the gifts of shame, 
 Which might aid her love to save 
 That poor idol from the grave. 
 
 O, ye sneering Pharisees! 
 Who but mock at things like these, 
 We could bring a thousand more 
 Such fierce beggars to your door, 
 Crying, with increasing din, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. IO5 
 
 To your conscience, " Let us in. 
 Aid us, succor us, we pray; 
 Should you spurn us now away 
 We will throng about your feet 
 In the mart and crowded street; 
 You shall have no peace nor rest 
 While our wrongs lie unredressed." 
 
 Brothers, we to you appeal, 
 Authors of our woe and weal, 
 In your mighty strength arise, 
 Bare your foreheads to the skies, 
 Swear that justice shall be done 
 By your blessed hopes of heaven, 
 Equal rights to every one, 
 Male and female, shall be given. 
 
 Dedicate your lives, henceforth, 
 To the service of true worth. 
 Aid the advancement of your kind; 
 Aid the improvement of the mind; 
 Wrong oppose and right befriend, 
 Bravely, nobly to the end; 
 Then, by no cold doubts' oppressed, 
 YOu may enter into rest. 
 
Io6 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE INDIAN CHIEF'S REMONSTRANCE. 
 
 PROUD heirs of those that came across the seas 
 And brought destruction with them to lay waste 
 My people's heritage, and brought disease, 
 
 And strange, death-dealing instruments to haste 
 The extermination of my fore-doomed race, 
 
 Think of our homes a hundred years ago, 
 And look, O interlopers, at them now! 
 
 Driven, still driven backward by a foe 
 Too powerful to resist, we no more know 
 Our ancient hunting-grounds, the heavens below. 
 
 What is your argument ? That wide-spread fields 
 Of ripening grains, and orchards bending down 
 
 Neath luscious fruits, which cultivation yields, 
 Are better far than swampy lands o'ergrown 
 With thickets, or the forest's gloomy frown ? 
 
 That your great populous cities, rearing high 
 Their costly domes and spires, are better than 
 
 The moose-hide tents, that congregated lie 
 A little while in amity, and then 
 Are lost, e'en from the memories of men. 
 
 But tastes can differ, and the red-skinned race, 
 That peopled once and ruled this mighty land, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 107 
 
 Loved in God's works his glorious thoughts to trace 
 And marvelled most where ocean, tameless, grand, 
 Still rolls his thunderous billows o'er the sand. 
 
 They saw more grandeur in the huge rocks piled 
 In picturesque confusion on the coast, 
 
 They saw more beauty in their caverns wild, 
 
 And mountain passes, than your towns can boast 
 In architecture wrought at fabulous cost. 
 
 They saw more glory in the changing skies, 
 
 Whence sunbeams leap to earth through cloudy bars, 
 
 Where the sweet pilgrim moon, with downcast eyes, 
 Walks nightly through a wilderness of stars, 
 Than in your many arts brought from afar. 
 
 Thus were your civilized achievements lost 
 
 On Nature's simple offspring; ignorant, 
 But loving freedom more than life, they tossed 
 
 Their arms aloft, and prayed that God would grant 
 
 Them vengeance on the wily emigrant, 
 
 Who, coming hither, played upon their trust 
 And want of knowledge, and, with crafty face, 
 
 Bought their fair lands for baubles, gone to dust 
 Long years ago; a barren resting-place 
 Now shelters the poor remnants of their race. 
 
 And later grievances their aid have lent 
 
 To fill my people's veins with rancorous heat; 
 Unworthy tools, employed by Government 
 
I08 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 To deal with them, too oft have used deceit, 
 And made your friendship seem a lie and cheat. 
 
 What wonder then if they break out in wrath, 
 And strive to right their wrongs by dint of arms ? 
 
 What wonder if they throw across the path 
 Of progress obstacles, and ring alarms 
 In peaceful ears that thrill with dread of harm ? 
 
 Go see to it that justice first be done 
 To every one, and compensation made 
 
 For all the unjust past. Do you atone 
 
 For your short-comings ere you seek to wade 
 Through blood to conquest in the next decade. 
 
 Invite their aged chiefs and honored braves 
 To meet you where the calumet may be 
 
 Passed round in friendliness; and, while the waves 
 From light's pure fount break over you, agree 
 To guard as yours their rights and liberty. 
 
 Then keep that promise sacred, that your God 
 May kindly bless and prosper all you do; 
 
 And when some time along life's rugged road 
 You need a friend's assistance, stanch and true, 
 The Indian will be that friend to you. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 109 
 
 A DREAM OF TYRANNY. 
 
 JUDGE if it was a dream. My friend, to me 
 It seemed a bitter, hard reality. 
 I stood within the drear walls of a prison, 
 Beside the fair twin-sister of a youth 
 Condemned to death — to a most horrible death. 
 One-hundred lashes with the knout. Thus ran 
 His sentence by the Tyrant's own hand signed. 
 For what unpardonable crime, you ask ? 
 For this: The youth, though not of royal blood, 
 Possessed a royal mind, that scorned to bow 
 In worship of Oppression though he sat 
 In jewelled robes of state, enthroned and crowned. 
 Much had he studied, had reflected much, 
 And once had visited a noble land 
 O'er which no haughty despot's shadow broods. 
 Here he had drank great draughts from Freedom's springs, 
 Had sat upon Equality's broad seat 
 With statesman and mechanic, knowing not, 
 Both being so intelligent, which most 
 Deserved to guide a powerful Nation's helm. 
 So much of pure, free thought his mind imbibed, 
 That like hot wine it fired his youthful blood, 
 And made enthusiasm recklessness. 
 When he returned unto his native land 
 
HO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 He failed not to proclaim his sentiments 
 Among the down-crushed people urging them 
 To rouse, assert their worth and God-given rights. 
 This was his crime. I learned it from the lips 
 Of his unhappy sister. Leave was given — 
 Graciously given for any of his friends 
 To witness "Justice dealing with her foe, 
 That they might learn to hold her in respect, 
 Nor dare like him to call her Tyranny." 
 
 The victim's gray-haired, broken-hearted sire 
 And fair twin-sister had advantage ta'en 
 Of that permission; for they said, "If he 
 Should live through it our love will ease his pain, 
 Our sympathy will shield him from despair." 
 I went with them because they had desired 
 My company, and they were friends of mine. 
 But, oh! I little knew what I should see, 
 Or hear, or feel, before an hour went by. 
 
 We found the prisoner pale, but quite composed, 
 
 And he exhorted us to flee away 
 
 Far from the place before the punishment 
 
 Began, lest in his bodily agony 
 
 Some cry might 'scape his lips and frighten us. 
 
 We feigned to yield to his appeal; and when 
 
 The executioner came we left the room, 
 
 And hid us in a little cell near by. 
 
 After awhile we heard the heavy blows, 
 
 But not a cry or groan, save what arose 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Ill 
 
 From our own aching hearts, distressed our ears. 
 Twenty were given, and then there was a pause. 
 The brutal man was resting from his work 
 To gain fresh strength. 
 
 Again the blows began, 
 And this time with them shrieks of agony 
 So dreadful that my heart with terror shook. 
 The two poor sufferers at my side, o'ercome 
 By speechless misery, sank upon the ground 
 Locked in each other's arms. Her brow was pressed 
 Upon her father's shoulder, and her hair 
 Covering his breast was moistened with his tears. 
 Another shriek. "Ye heavens!" my soul exclaimed, 
 My proud and passionate soul — " is there a God ? 
 A God who sees and will allow such things 
 When with a thunder-bolt he could destroy 
 The fiendish perpetrator?" 
 
 Now the cries 
 Of piteous entreaty fainter grew, 
 And I half mad with grief, and rage, and fear, 
 And conscious helplessness, rushed from the cell 
 And down the narrow passage 'till I came 
 Furious into the hall of punishment. 
 There met me such a sight that ne'er I pray 
 May eyes of man or woman see again. 
 A gory, mangled mass of something lay 
 Upon the floor, at which a grim-faced man, 
 Armed with a knotted lash, was aiming blows. 
 Others were in the room, and one held up 
 A narrow piece of skin, some inches long, 
 
112 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Picked from the floor, which all around was strewn 
 With smaller pieces. 
 
 All these things I saw 
 At one swift glance. A moment more and I 
 Had reached the butcher's side and grasped the knout. 
 "Hold! hold! " I cried. "Oh, for the sake of Christ— 
 The loving, pitying One — be merciful!" 
 But with a curse he wrenched the instrument 
 Of torture from my hand, and raised it high, 
 Then guided it with vengeful force across 
 My naked arms. I felt the wasp-like sting, 
 And saw the purple lines that here and there 
 Were broken by deep bruises, where the knots 
 Had torn the tender flesh, and then I grew 
 Quite giddy, and my feet slid in a pool 
 Of blood, and all things faded from my sight. 
 
 When I awoke to consciousness again, 
 
 I found myself beside the lifeless corse 
 
 Of her, my late companion. The pure soul 
 
 Had fled on wings of sympathy to join 
 
 Her brother in the peaceful spirit realms. 
 
 The poor, bereft old father in that hour 
 
 Had lost his wits; for this I gave God thanks. 
 
 He knew no other guide than Memory, 
 
 No other friend, but she was all in all 
 
 To him the few months that he longer lived. 
 
 She led him down the green slope of his youth 
 
 Beside the rippling waters, and she sang 
 
 So sweetly of the many happy days 
 
 That poured their gladdening sunshine o'er his past. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 113 
 
 Thus ran my dream; but was it all a dream ? 
 Alas! my reason sadly whispers, no. 
 Such things have been, and are, and still must be 
 In Tyranny's dominions. Then beware. 
 Ye habitants of Freedom's happy lands, 
 Beware lest Folly let Oppression in. 
 Defend your heritage, and show mankind 
 The matchless worth of true equality. 
 
 LIFE'S ASPIRATIONS. 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 OH! Oh! what a world is this! 
 What a beautiful, wonderful place! 
 And they say it round, like a marble, is 
 And rolls on nothing in space. 
 
 And the great, white moon turns somersets, too, 
 Though she looks so grave and still; 
 
 And the stars follow suit, in their play-ground blue, 
 And tumble with right good will. 
 
114 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Now I can't understand, though hard I've tried, 
 'Tis the greatest puzzle I've found, 
 
 Why things don't fall off from the under side 
 If this world of ours be round. 
 
 And how they measure the miles in space, 
 
 And the size of the planets vast; 
 Oh! knowledge will lead me a pretty chase, 
 
 But I mean to win her at last. 
 
 The moon soars high through the darksome night; 
 
 What a glorious kite she'd make! 
 And I see a star, like a dew-drop bright, 
 
 Close following in her wake. 
 
 O moon, my hopes soar higher than you, 
 And my dreams are far more bright; 
 
 Come, manhood, and give me the power to view 
 All things now beyond my sight. 
 
 YOUTH. 
 
 Now hurrah! hurrah for pleasure! 
 Fun and freedom without measure! 
 Joy, lead on; thou art a treasure 
 
 Growing dearer, day by day. 
 My dull college life is ended, 
 Learning's book wealth all expended, 
 And, by tutors unattended, 
 
 Henceforth, I'll pursue my way. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 115 
 
 Lofty sky, with rose hues glowing, 
 Warm June winds, around me blowing, 
 Mighty river, grandly flowing, 
 
 Towering rock, and waterfall; 
 Sunbeams, 'mong the blossoms tangled, 
 Earth, with starry flowers bespangled, 
 Sweet bird voices, never jangled, 
 
 How I love, enjoy you all. 
 
 Nature, let my ardent spirit 
 Thy true majesty inherit, 
 That I soon may justly merit 
 
 Human love, and human praise. 
 Great, good thoughts within me glowing, 
 Great, good deeds would fain be sowing, 
 To be ready for the mowing 
 
 In the coming Autumn days. 
 
 MANHOOD. 
 
 Now I stand on Fame's high summit, 
 
 Where the eagles only dwell, 
 Gazing on the sun that o'er me 
 
 Swingeth like a burnished bell, 
 Listening to the stormy plaudits 
 
 Of the crowd beneath my feet; 
 Earth is won, and Time is conquered, — 
 
 Thus my triumph is complete. 
 
 "Warrior, statesman, scholar, poet, 
 
 Great in all, forever reign 
 In the Nation's heart and story" — 
 
 Loudly rings the glad refrain. 
 
Il6 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Friends, O friends, who idolize me, 
 Can I trust you ? will it last, 
 
 This bright guerdon of ambition 
 Longed for in the toilsome past. 
 
 Doubts assail and make me tremble 
 
 On the pinnacle of Fame, 
 And I faint beneath the burden 
 
 Of a world-applauded name. 
 Weak indeed is human nature; 
 
 Let me lean upon thee, Faith; 
 In the work my God assigns me 
 
 Make me constant unto death. 
 
 OLD AGE. 
 
 O my children, my kindred, draw near, 
 That no word from my weak lips be lost, 
 
 For the call of the angel I hear, 
 
 And death's river by me must be crossed- 
 
 Death's river by me must be crossed 
 Ere the light of the morning appear. 
 
 You stand round in silence and tears, 
 While I in my gladness would sing 
 
 Of the melting of time's frosty years 
 In the genial sunlight of Spring — 
 
 In the radiant sunshine of Spring 
 That illumines the happier spheres. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 117 
 
 Joy! joy! I may now put away 
 
 This age-crumbling ruin of earth — 
 This body long given to decay, 
 
 And prepare for a loftier birth — 
 A higher, a holier birth 
 
 Into regions of infinite day. 
 
 With the eyes of my soul I descry 
 
 The loved ones who entered before, 
 Through the mystical gate of the sky, 
 
 The gardens that I shall explore — 
 That I shall with rapture explore; 
 
 O soul, loose thee quickly and fly. 
 
 Fly, fly to the beautiful arms 
 
 That are stretched to enfold thee in bliss, 
 To the love that all evil disarms, 
 To the sphere, whose superlative charms 
 
 Are dimly foreshadowed in this — 
 
 Are barely prefigured in this. 
 
 EIGHTY-FIVE. 
 
 EIGHTY-FIVE to-day! I stand 
 On the lonely border land 
 Of that country all untried — 
 Lonesome since none with me go; 
 All my loved ones long ago 
 Left me for the other side. 
 
Il8 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Other homes ere this they've found, 
 Other ties their souls have bound, 
 
 And perchance they have forgot 
 Him who lingered by the way 
 Till age shadows, cold and gray, 
 
 Chased him from the olden spot. 
 
 I have not forgotten them, 
 Tender branches from my stem, 
 
 Or the partner of my cares. 
 And I fondly hope and pray 
 As they fill my thoughts alway 
 
 I may claim a part of theirs. 
 
 Hasten, death, and lead me there, 
 I will now myself prepare 
 
 For the change what e'er it be. 
 Take my blessing, earth, once dear, 
 And thou new life drawing near, 
 
 Make my hopes reality. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 GOOD-NIGHT. 
 
 DEAR friends, the parting moment comes; 
 Good-night, good-night! 
 Soon may we seek our quiet homes 
 
 And firesides bright. 
 But often at our evening leisure, 
 'Mid those whose love we fondly treasure, 
 Shall we recall these hours with pleasure — 
 Good-night, good-night! 
 
 Our hearts sing with our lips the words, 
 
 Good-night, good night! 
 To swell the soft harmonious chords 
 
 Let all unite. 
 Now kindly to each weary singer 
 Time points the hour with warning finger; 
 Still on our lips the sweet words linger — 
 
 Good-night, good-night! 
 
120 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 TO A CHILD. 
 
 CHILD, swift-footed as the hours, 
 Playmate of the birds and flowers, 
 Listening to the robin's note, 
 Peeping in the violet's eye, 
 Soon thy lengthening vines of thought 
 Will o'erspread yon distant sky. 
 
 Soon wilt thou essay to climb 
 The cloud-mantled peaks of time, 
 To obtain a wider view 
 
 Of man's wondrous heritage. 
 To discover something new 
 
 Fit for History's grandest page. 
 
 Child, be happy 'mid thy play, 
 Through the present's genial day, 
 For some future hours may freeze 
 
 Laughter's spring, and care may drive 
 All thy joys, like honey bees, 
 
 Forth to seek another hive. 
 
 Then thou'lt need to seek above 
 The unchanging soul of Love, 
 The all Good, all Pure, all Wise, 
 
 Who delights to soothe and bless, 
 Who bestows what earth denies — 
 
 Peace, and truth, and happiness. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 121 
 
 THE FISHERMEN. 
 
 GOOD-BYE, old wife. Nay, nay, don't cry! 
 Though squally looks the eastern sky, 
 To beat the storm we've but to try — 
 Our three great, stalwart sons and I." 
 
 They launch the boat with hearty cheers, 
 To kill the mother's anxious fears. 
 Now far away she faintly hears 
 Their shouts, and wipes away her tears. 
 
 " May God be wi' them. All I can 
 I've done to change their wilfu' plan. 
 They strove against me to a man, 
 And said they'd ne'er on trifles stan', — 
 
 "Sic trifles as a woman's dreams; 
 Though I believe they're scatterin' beams 
 That oft from kelpies' torches stream 
 To light the future wi' their gleam." 
 
 She shook her head in boding mood, 
 And hied her to her dwelling rude; 
 There on the threshold long she stood 
 To watch the tide's incoming flood. 
 
122 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The storm king now bestrides the main, 
 The sea-mew shrieks as if in pain; 
 The old wife moans, "I wait in vain, 
 I ne'er shall hear their shouts again. 
 
 " My good old man, so kind, so leal, 
 My lads wi' courage firm as steel, 
 What can I do for ye but kneel 
 To Him who works our woe and weal." 
 
 The storm has left the mighty deep, 
 The moonlight bathes the rocky steep, 
 While just below four corses lie, 
 With fixed eyes staring at the sky. 
 
 JUST THIRTEEN. 
 
 OH! this is my birthday, mother dear, 
 The brightest morning you ever saw; 
 And I have been out with the earliest birds 
 Singing the merriest songs I know. 
 
 And I've had a race with Tige on the lawn, 
 Though the dew lay heavy upon the grass, 
 
 And I bathed in the brook, and dressed my hair 
 By the aid of its ruffled looking-glass. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1 23 
 
 And brave old Tige went mad with glee 
 
 To see me splash in the waters clear, 
 And swam for my hat that the roguish breeze 
 
 Had tossed in the stream from the hillock near. 
 
 O mother, I've entered my teens to-day, 
 
 And I'll very soon be a woman now, 
 And then I'll have heaps on heaps of beaux, 
 
 But I'll tease and laugh at them all, you know. 
 
 For the strongest man in this great, round world 
 Could not draw me away from my mother's side; 
 
 Nor could the handsomest win my love, 
 Nor the haughtiest humble my girlish pride. 
 
 And unless an angel comes down from Heaven, 
 
 A beautiful angel with spotless soul, 
 To ask me in marriage, I'll never wed, 
 
 But keep my heart under my own control. 
 
124 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 FIVE YEARS LATER. 
 
 O MOTHER, I'm just eighteen to-day, 
 And I've come to ask for your blessing, dear; 
 And I have a sweet confession to make 
 That I'll whisper low in your bended ear. 
 
 No, let me kneel. I feel better so, 
 
 For my heart is humble, and I will lay 
 
 My head on your lap, and tell you what 
 
 Has changed your daughter so much to-day. 
 
 Varian Clements has loved me long 
 
 With a strong true love that can never fail; 
 
 A love that will shelter me tenderly 
 
 Through the darkest night and the roughest gale. 
 
 In my castle of ignorance long I lived, 
 
 Defying the winged archer's dart, 
 Till his love, like a swollen impetuous stream, 
 
 Burst over the banks that enclosed my heart. 
 
 Mother, my lover has faults I know, 
 
 But I scarcely could wish him sinless quite; 
 
 His virtues by contrast will brighter seem, — 
 Would we see the stars if 'twere not for night ? 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. I 25 
 
 I'd tremble to wed a spotless mate, 
 
 For love would be lost in worship and fear; 
 
 But, both being frail, we'll join hand in hand, 
 Forgiving, forgiven through life's long year. 
 
 LIBERATED. 
 
 POOR broken spirit, low stricken by sorrow, 
 Bound in the shadowy cell of despair, 
 Rouse thee, now dawneth the promised to-morrow, 
 Hope takes the keys from the fingers of care; 
 Back flies thy prison door, 
 Over thee sweep once more 
 Streams of bright sunshine and balm laden air. 
 
 Rise! for the fetters are loosened, are falling 
 
 Off from the limbs they have cumbered so long. 
 Listen! thy name gentle voices are calling, 
 Bidding thee hasten to join life's glad throng. 
 Friendship and Love are there 
 Waiting thy form to bear, 
 Into the regions of jubilant song. 
 
126 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE ROBIN. 
 
 WHO saw the robin ? I saw the robin 
 On the old apple tree pluming his wing. 
 Early this morning he came without warning, 
 Singing so gaily of beautiful Spring. 
 
 Quickly the buds, when they hear him, will open 
 And send forth their leaflets to welcome him back; 
 
 The red-breasted robin, Spring's orchestra leader, 
 Best loved of bird minstrels that follow his track. 
 
 He need not fly from the sportsman in terror, 
 
 For nature about him has woven a charm, 
 That causes mankind to become his admirers 
 
 And champions, sworn to defend him from harm. 
 
 The children's bright eyes watch his coming with pleasure, 
 
 For he is as busy as busy can be; 
 Now building, now feeding his dear little fledgelings, 
 
 Safe hid in their nest in the top of the tree. 
 
 God bless the robin! whose coming so cheers us, 
 
 And brings happy memories of green leaves and flowers; 
 
 Of odorous breezes, and long woodland rambles, 
 
 And peace-hallowed musings in vine-trellaced bowers. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 127 
 
 FLOW SWIFTLY, STREAM OF LIFE. 
 
 FLOW swiftly, stream of life! 
 O swiftly bear on thy ruffled breast 
 My white winged boat to the port of rest; 
 Flow swiftly stream of life. 
 
 O haste thee, stream of life! 
 
 Above us smiles the bright blue sky, 
 
 But clouds may come as in days gone by; 
 
 And the rain may fall as it fell before, 
 
 And the lightnings flash and the thunders roar, 
 
 And the winds that sleep in their caverns now 
 
 May marshal their hosts in the field of air, 
 
 And round me in withering tempests blow, 
 
 And wreck my boat on the rock, despair. 
 
 Flow swiftly, stream of life! 
 
 To the blessed shore I long to see, 
 
 Whose sons and daughters are glad and free; 
 
 They know no sorrow, no care, no pain, 
 
 And their souls from sin receive no stain, 
 
 But each one lives for the good of all 
 
 In that glorious land to which I go, 
 
 Where no winter reigns, no blossom's fall, 
 
 And no hearts lie buried 'neath ice and snow. 
 
128 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Flow swiftly, stream of life! 
 
 O let thy current be deep and strong; 
 
 And I'll gaily sing as I glide along, 
 
 And my words shall ring through the silence far, 
 
 And pilot the lost, like a guiding star, 
 
 To the haven of plenty, and peace, and rest, 
 
 To the beautiful land I soon shall see, 
 
 Where the good and the true are supremely blest; 
 
 Would'st thou know its name ? 'Tis Eternity. 
 
 THE ANGELS' CALL. 
 
 COME higher! come higher! the angels are calling; 
 Come time-ripened manhood and beautiful youth; 
 Delay not, for sorrow may seize on to-morrow, 
 Come nearer to freedom and virtue and truth. 
 
 Come higher! come higher! the angels are calling; 
 
 Come out of the shadow for danger lurks there. 
 Light floodeth forever the mount of endeavor; 
 
 At once to its verdurous summit repair. 
 
 Come higher! come higher! the angels are calling, 
 Where Purity smiles from her radiant throne, 
 
 Where joy-bells are ringing and glad voices singing 
 Their paeans of triumph for Vice overthrown. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 129 
 
 COME FORTH, O SOUL! 
 
 OSOUL, among life's shadows sitting, 
 Come forth, come forth, 
 Nor fear to take the place befitting 
 Thine own true worth. 
 
 Ascend the regal throne of Honor, 
 
 Accept the crown 
 Of Joy, which Love, the smiling donor, 
 
 Has handed down. 
 
 Awake! Arise! put off thy sable; 
 
 Put on thy bright 
 And costly robes, since thou art able 
 
 To bear the light. 
 
 The darksome past withdraws, the present 
 
 Is full of cheer, 
 And leads to pastures green and pleasant, 
 
 And waters clear. 
 
 A sweet-voiced bird of promise singeth, 
 By day and night, 
 "Rejoice, O soul! the future bringeth 
 To thee delight. 
 
130 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Henceforth 'twill be thy blessed mission 
 
 To show mankind, 
 By aid of Faith's sublime prevision, 
 
 The good designed." 
 
 O, while unfolding to Creation 
 
 The wondrous tale, 
 Drink deep; the fount of inspiration 
 
 Can never fail. 
 
 FRUITION. 
 
 RADIANT spirit, 
 Bloom into song, 
 Scatter sweet odors 
 Mortals among. 
 Let them enjoy thee, 
 Thou wast not made 
 Lonely, unnoticed 
 To blossom and fade. 
 
 He who is changeless 
 Keeps thee in view; 
 Thou shalt be nourished 
 On sunbeams and dew. 
 Now laughs the spring-time, 
 Winter is past; 
 Beauty and pleasure 
 Greet thee at last. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 13] 
 
 EVENING MUSINGS. 
 
 LIKE a demon unconfined, 
 Raving, roaring sweeps the wind 
 Past my dwelling, this dark evening in the winter of the year; 
 Or at times more hushed and mild, 
 Sighing, sobbing like a child, 
 Who has just received chastisement from the hand it holds 
 most dear. 
 
 I have wedged the casements tight, 
 That their jar may not affright 
 The wee darlings, should they waken in the lonely midnight 
 hour, 
 And I've drawn my chair still nigher 
 To the brightly blazing fire, 
 From whose heart the sparks are driven in an iridescent 
 shower. 
 
 Muse I thus: How like yon spark, 
 
 Rising, falling in the dark, 
 Is my soul, its flight pursuing through the infinite unknown. 
 
 Now submerged by weights of care 
 
 In the ocean of despair, 
 Now by fitful breath of trifles on the shores of gladness 
 blown. 
 
132 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 O, what mysteries are we! 
 And what mysteries we see 
 All around us, working wonders in their God-appointed 
 spheres. 
 What a mighty sphinx is life 
 With its quiet and its strife, 
 With its pleasures and its sorrows, with its laughter and its 
 tears. 
 
 Somewhere lies the mystic key 
 
 To your being's destiny, 
 You may find it if you seek it with unwearying zeal and care. 
 
 Thus the cheering voice of Hope 
 
 Bids us with inaction cope, 
 And inspires our faltering energies again to do and dare. 
 
 Wondrous Universe of God! 
 
 E'en the worm beneath the sod 
 Has a part in thee, an heritage which nought can tak* 
 away. 
 
 When the form external dies 
 
 From its ashes doth arise 
 The old spirit in new garments to enjoy its endless day. 
 
 ■ 
 
 Would these truths were understood; 
 
 Changes all result in good, 
 With the means of high importance for our culture they are 
 rife. 
 
 Let us be to fate resigned; 
 
 In the future we shall find 
 The unfoldment of our being is the crowning act of life. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1 33 
 
 THE CYNIC. 
 
 ITHOUGT it a wonderful world, when a child; yes, I 
 thought it 
 A mirror of Heaven, a temple of goodness and beauty. 
 Ha! ha! well, that time is gone by, long gone by, and I 
 vote it 
 A humbug, don't you? There! don't preach so severely 
 of duty. 
 
 What's duty ? to smother our honest convictions of evil ? 
 
 And only profess to believe in the god-like and holy 
 While calmly ignoring the visible proofs of the devil ? 
 
 Bah! when we do that we must dwell with hypocrisy 
 solely. 
 
 I tell you the shadows are heavy, and dark, and wide- 
 spreading, 
 Though you who persistently gaze at the sun will not see 
 them; 
 And treacherous quicksands lurk under the ground we are 
 treading, 
 Which others will 'scape not, though we may with safety 
 flee them. 
 
134 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 To do good, to be good is such a continual struggle; 
 
 I tell you, my friend, they who pass through Fame's 
 towering portals, 
 With fair seeming visages, all in their consciences smuggle 
 
 Some memories carefully kept from inquisitive mortals. 
 
 Ah, well! I am cynical, just as you say; but I pity 
 
 And love poor humanity more that I witness its failings 
 
 And sufferings; so I believe when we enter His City 
 
 Compassion and pardon will tend on our spirit's unveiling 
 
 HIS COURSE. 
 
 "1 TE was born." "What of that? 'tis nothing uncommon," 
 
 11 u He lived, he loved, was loved by a woman. 
 He gave form to six beings, his children, and then 
 He died." "That's not strange; 'tis the custom of men. 
 
 But, say, while he lived did he wrest from the sun 
 One bright pulsing ray to illumine the dark 
 In the cavern of ignorance ? Saw you the mark 
 
 Of his axe in the thickets of error ? Not one! 
 
 Then the man was not charged with the spirit of God, 
 But served like the cabbage or turnip to feed 
 
 Other physical structures; self-bound to the sod, 
 For lofty endeavor he saw not the need. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 135 
 
 Such blockheads are many." " Nay, censure them not; 
 
 In Wisdom's economy all have their worth; 
 Higher nature springs from them all glowing with thought, 
 
 As Iris is born of the vapors of earth." 
 
 RUSTIC COQUETRY. 
 
 NONSENSE! how stupid! Why, John, you are dreaming. 
 You surely can't mean in the least what you say. 
 Go, go. In the barn-yard the cows are all waiting; 
 The calves must be fed, and the milk put away. 
 
 Let them wait? No, Indeed! Why, John, did I ever! 
 
 I thought you were always so steady to work. 
 For years you've been held as a pattern for others, 
 
 And never were known the least duty to shirk. 
 
 So you mean to remain till I tell you I love you ? 
 
 How tiresome you are, John. I love you of course — 
 No, stay where you are — as I love all good people; 
 
 Now, don't look so cross, John, I might have said worse. 
 
 You're going away now to leave me forever ? 
 
 Stay, John, just one moment; sit down again please. 
 You know that from childhood like sister and brother 
 
 We've been, and I — well, I was always a tease. 
 
lyo MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Love you best ? be your wife ? Let us wait a few years, 
 John, 
 
 There's time enough yet; we are both young, you know. 
 Hark! The clock's striking six, and my supper's not ready; 
 
 Let go of my hand, sir; how can you act so ? 
 
 You will have the word from my lips ? well, then take it; 
 
 How wilful you are, John, how bold, I declare! 
 There's a footstep. Thank goodness that somebody's 
 coming. 
 
 It's mother. Now kiss me again if you dare! 
 
 
 TO A BIRD ON HER NEST. 
 
 ODEAR little bird, with soft wings drooping over 
 The nest in whose hollow thy fledgelings are sleeping, 
 Half hidden from sight 'mong the dew-spangled clover, 
 How constant, how true is the watch thou art keeping. 
 
 The mother love, strong in thy nature, compels thee 
 To leave thy companions in woodland and meadow, 
 
 To drink in the stories that Syren Hope tells thee, 
 While brooding so lonely in solitude's shadow. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 137 
 
 SOUL LONGINGS. 
 
 EVER longing, ever yearning, 
 Ever constant, O my soul! 
 To thy guide star truly turning 
 
 As the needle to the pole; 
 As the sunflower to the golden, 
 
 Gleaming glory of the day, 
 As the minstrel to the olden 
 Legends that inspire his lay. 
 
 Knowing not where it may lead thee, 
 
 Knowing not what it may be, 
 Singest thou, mine own, I need thee, 
 
 Guardian angel, wait for me. 
 Wait for me, my feet are weary, 
 
 And the way seems long and drear, 
 But thy gentle voice can cheer me, 
 
 I am safe when thou art near. 
 
 Dearest, let the rude winds never 
 
 Kiss thy blessing from my brow. 
 I will trust in thee forever, 
 
 I will to thy wisdom bow. 
 Only love me fondly, truly, 
 
 Till the stars shall cease to shine, 
 And my every thought shall duly 
 
 Blend in harmony with thine. 
 
138 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 EXALTATION. 
 
 A BEAUTIFUL floweret drooped one day, 
 Lonely, disheartened she bowed her head; 
 And these were the words she seemed to say, 
 " O Flora, I would that I were dead! " 
 
 The goddess heard her complaining voice, 
 And stooped to cheer her with looks of love. 
 
 "O sorrowing creature, rejoice! rejoice! 
 The angels are weaving thy fate above, 
 
 With ravelled threads from the rainbow's sash, 
 And golden floss from the rising sun; 
 
 Then cherish no more a wish so rash, 
 For night is ended and day begun. 
 
 Already affection's glances bright 
 
 Part the branches that o'er thee swing; 
 
 She will transplant thee where love and light 
 Repose, and the birds of gladness sing. 
 
 The only return I ask of thee, 
 
 When troops of blessings and joys surround 
 Thy life, is a pleasant smile for me, 
 
 And fragrant kisses for all around. " 
 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 139 
 
 The flower revived, and her heart grew strong, 
 And brighter her colors seemed to glow; 
 
 And the gardener said, " Of a place among 
 My choicest pets she is worthy now." 
 
 So he made her a bed in a rich parterre, 
 
 Under the arch of a sheltering vine, 
 Where Beauty's adorers oft repair 
 
 To wonder and worship at her shrine. 
 
 No more the floweret her lot bewails, 
 
 But lifts her forehead to greet the sun, 
 And blithely sings to the passing gales, 
 
 "Lo! joy has finished what pain begun." 
 
 BE GLAD. 
 
 BE glad, O heart! O innocent young heart! 
 Thou art the ward of Heaven; thy nurse is Love; 
 Thy tutors, Wisdom and Experience. 
 They will attend thee in the way of life 
 Which stretches far beyond thy vision's range. 
 
 Uneven is the path thou must pursue; 
 It leads through tranquil valleys, verdurous, 
 Teeming with life and beauty; over heights 
 Majestic which converse alone with God 
 By signs incomprehensible to man. 
 
140 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Gather the gems that sparkle by the way, 
 
 The flowers that smile to greet thee. Garner thou, 
 
 Within the spacious treasury of thought, 
 
 All that is worthy for thy future use 
 
 And pleasure in the higher life to come. 
 
 TRANSFIGURED. 
 
 SHE faded, faded while the other flowers 
 That graced our garden were in fullest bloom. 
 We said, " Love, art thou searching for the tomb 
 So soon? Why! thou hast numbered fewer hours 
 In thy sweet life than any of thy kin. 
 What shall we do thy longer stay to win ? " 
 
 She clasped her lily hands upon her breast, 
 And answered, smiling, " I have only grown 
 Weary a little sooner. O mine own! 
 
 Detain me not, I'm going home to rest. 
 
 Till you rejoin me it shall be my care 
 
 That home for your reception to prepare. 
 
 Affection will advise me what to choose, 
 
 That nothing may be wanting that could add 
 To your enjoyment. I am truly glad 
 
 To feel that I again may be of use." 
 
 She ceased, and while her words yet held our thought, 
 
 Her gentle spirit into Heaven was caught. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 141 
 
 AMBITION. 
 
 ONWARD, ever onward, 
 While endures my breath; 
 Tell me not of sickness, 
 Tell me not of death. 
 Would you have me falter 
 
 Ere my crown is won ? 
 Leave to earth unfinished 
 The work I have begun ? 
 
 Lion-eyed Ambition, 
 
 Throned within my soul, 
 Points with steady finger 
 
 To the nearing goal; 
 To the time when o'er me 
 
 Fame's proud flag shall wave; 
 What care I if only 
 
 It canopy my grave. 
 
 Seek not to dissuade me; 
 
 Trust me, 'twould be vain; 
 I'm inured to sorrow, 
 
 Hardened unto pain. 
 I must, I will press onward. 
 
 While endures my breath, 
 At the risk of sickness, 
 
 At the risk of death. 
 
142 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 BE PATIENT, O MY SOUL. 
 
 BE patient, patient, O my soul! 
 Beat not so wildly 'gainst the bars; 
 Thy prison gates will ope ere long, 
 And thou shalt, on the wings of song, 
 Triumphant join the radiant stars. 
 
 The radiant stars that lovingly 
 
 Do all they can to give thee light, 
 When they, from calm, exalted spheres, 
 Behold the doubts, the prayers, the tears 
 Thou scatterest to the winds of night. 
 
 Look round on Nature. Everywhere 
 
 Mayst thou the law progressive trace. 
 The young oak, struggling through the sod, 
 Will sometime spread its branches broad, 
 A thing of beauty, strength and grace. 
 
 The tiny seed, so small that eye 
 
 Can scarce discern it, will expand 
 Ere long and shed upon the air 
 Such fragrance as the angels bear 
 To loved ones in the Summer land. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 143 
 
 The naked birdling in the nest, 
 
 Whose unfledged wings so useless seem, 
 
 Will, aided by the eternal law, 
 
 Soar upward till it feels the glow 
 
 That warms the minstrel's tuneful theme. 
 
 Then be thou patient, O my soul! 
 
 A little while and thou shalt rise, 
 Assisted by Faith's tireless arm, 
 To where no earthly ills can harm, 
 
 Beyond the reach of doubts and sighs. 
 
 LOVE AND HOME. 
 
 OLOVE, how beautiful art thou! 
 How good, how kind; 
 Bet ore thee men and angels bow 
 With joy refined. 
 
 And Home, so great thine influence is, 
 
 So grand, so pure, 
 Men count it oft their highest bliss 
 
 To thee secure. 
 
 All tender souls this truth believe, 
 
 That lonely roam, 
 The sweetest words that mortals breathe 
 
 Are Love and Home. 
 
144 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 SUPERSTITION. 
 
 ENSHROUDED in her mantle, lo, behold! 
 The treacherous queen, the evil sorceress, 
 Surrounded by her slaves of abject mind, 
 Whose hearts she feeds upon, whose tears she drinks 
 The while they bow in worship at her feet. 
 
 She blinds the eyes of all who look on her; 
 Their ears she deafens to the voice of Truth, 
 Who, clad in shining garments stands apart 
 And calls to every one, " Come, come with me, 
 And seek the regions where Contentment dwells." 
 
 But Superstition, with her fearful threats 
 
 Of future horrors, blasts their germs of thought 
 
 That else might bud and blossom into great 
 
 And glorious deeds; and they no more aspire 
 
 To leave the boundaries she has marked for them. 
 
 But now her tyranny is on the wane, 
 
 For God is raising up a multitude 
 
 Of heroes armed with Inspiration's sword, 
 
 Who will attack her strongholds and set free 
 
 Her terror-stricken captives from their chains. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 14' 
 
 Earth now is shaken by a higher power 
 
 Than that of Superstition. Intellect 
 
 Advances, bearing firmly in her hand 
 
 The banner of Christ, to which men will be drawn 
 
 Until their separate beings blend in one. 
 
 SAY, LITTLE BIRD. 
 
 SAY, little bird, with glinting eye, 
 Do you not know some spot — 
 Some nook beneath the gracious sky 
 
 Where Sorrow's tears fall not ? 
 Some refuge quite unknown to pain, 
 Where Hope's crushed flowers may bloom again ? 
 
 O little bird, with glinting eye, 
 
 If such a place you know, 
 Haste, guide me thither; I would fly 
 
 To find surcease of woe, 
 Lest my o'erburdened heart should break, 
 And life her tenement forsake. 
 
 O little bird, with glinting eye, 
 
 Thou'rt silent, and I feel 
 That naught beneath the bending sky 
 
 Can answer my appeal; 
 But only He who reigns above 
 Can heal me with His balm of love. 
 
I46 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 WITHIN THE SHADOW. 
 
 I HEARD them say they were going home, 
 The children who passed me in the street, 
 As they hastened along with merry song, 
 And glistening eyes, and dancing feet. 
 
 I hear them say they were going home, 
 
 And I followed them softly that I might see 
 
 If, indeed, their home was a part of heaven 
 
 Where the sun, and the stars, and the angels be. 
 
 I saw them pass through the stately porch 
 Of a mansion that seemed a blaze of light, 
 
 And I caught a glimpse of such lovely forms 
 Arrayed in garments of spotless white. 
 
 Green leaves and flowers adorned their hair; 
 
 And their dresses rippled and shimmered so 
 That they made me think of the foamy sea, 
 
 And the sparkle I'd seen on a bank of snow. 
 
 A fragrance was wafted in my face 
 
 By the closing door; an odor sweet 
 Like that I've breathed in the month of June 
 
 From the flowers for sale in the open street. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 147 
 
 I turned about and went my way 
 
 To my own poor hovel — ray stopping place, 
 
 I name it — I cannot call it home, 
 
 So comfortless, bare, and devoid of grace. 
 
 I wonder, sometimes, when I'm sitting there 
 
 Alone, or among my wretched mates, 
 What we've done that Fortune, with angry frown, 
 
 Should keep us outside her lofty gates. 
 
 And what they have done whom she welcomes in 
 To her gardens of beauty, and joy and ease. 
 
 Ah! my heart grows hard when I ponder thus, 
 And its tenderest feelings chill and freeze. 
 
 WHEN? 
 
 WE WATCH for it, we pray for it, that long surcease 
 of sorrow — 
 That bright eternity of bliss — best theme of poesy, 
 That flies from contact with to-day, but glorifi es to-morrow 
 That shuns the now, but wreathes with flowers the mysti- 
 cal To Be. 
 
 We dream of it, we long for it, the beautiful day-dawning, 
 
 The prophesied millenium that on the future waits, 
 When there shall be an end to pain, an end to tears and 
 moaning; 
 When Truth shall lead Perfection down through heaven's 
 blessed gates. 
 
I48 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 EVE. 
 
 EVE, it is said, was shaped by God's own hand, 
 A masterpiece of perfect womanhood, 
 The model mother of the human race. 
 Behold her as she stands among the flowers 
 Of Eden, in the springtime of her youth, 
 The sky's soft azure in her tender eyes, 
 The morning's freshness on her innocent brow, 
 The tints of opening roses on her cheeks, 
 The stains of crushed carnations on her lips, 
 The fragrance of May violets in her breath, 
 Her form in lightness, suppleness, and grace, 
 Unrivalled by the aerial gazelle. 
 
 THE RESPONSE. 
 
 * ' T \ TOM AN, what wishest thou ? " an angel asked, 
 V V When summoned to a midnight couch by 
 prayer. 
 She answered, weeping, "I am overtasked; 
 The burden of my cross is hard to bear; 
 Canst thou not lighten it ?" 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. I49 
 
 " What is thy cross ? " 
 1 A lonely heart; a life unwarmed by love. 
 Misunderstand me not. I mourn no loss, 
 But something yet ungained that fain I'd prove — 
 A pure emotion such as seraphs feel 
 In quiet hours of bliss." 
 
 The angel smiled, 
 And then, responding to her fond appeal, 
 He laid upon her breast a new-born child. 
 
 TIME'S PROGRESS. 
 
 TIME moves on with steady tread, and above his hoary 
 head 
 Wing the hours, life's seed germs sifting through the sieves 
 
 of joy and pain, 
 And the dropping of the moments sounds like rain 
 As it patters, patters, patters on the steamy window pane. 
 
 Spectre-like time passes on, ever coming, ever gone; 
 Never turning back or pausing at the call of love or hate, 
 And the tracks he ^aves behind him name we — fate! 
 And the goal to which he points is our Creator increate. 
 
150 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE ANGEL'S ADVENT. 
 
 AN angel from the upper world, 
 With soul so pure, and face so fair, 
 Once sought the temple of my heart, 
 In mourning draped by pain and care. 
 
 She entered, and with wondering eyes 
 Surveyed the unattractive place, 
 
 Then swift her fairy fingers flew 
 Till of its gloom was left no trace. 
 
 She tore the sable hangings down, 
 She let the radiant sunshine in, 
 
 And placed Joy's smiling image where 
 The mournful shape of Woe had been. 
 
 She wreathed the walls with lovely flowers, 
 Of fragrance exquisite and rare, 
 
 And summoned Nature's minstrel birds 
 To hold their morning concerts there. 
 
 She so adorned this heart of mine, 
 That beauteous messenger of God, 
 
 And so enjoyed her work that soon 
 She chose it for her own abode. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 15 I 
 
 O may her presence never fail 
 
 To bless it, nor her labors cease, 
 This angel from the upper world, 
 
 Whose soul is love, whose name is Peace. 
 
 EVENING VISIONS. 
 
 IN THE tender hours of evening, 
 When the cares of day are o'er, 
 Comes sweet memory, revealing 
 
 To our thoughts her scenes of yore. 
 And we gaze on them with pleasure, 
 
 Sometimes intermixed with pain, 
 While our heart-beats time the measure 
 Of some old, familiar strain. 
 
 In the changing views before us 
 
 Youth and Hope together climb, 
 Singing Joy's exultant chorus, 
 
 The unequal heights of Time. 
 While below is childhood, playing 
 
 With the butterflies and flowers; 
 Innocence, her steps delaying, 
 
 Guards him through life's sunny hours. 
 
 Soul entranced by memory's vision 
 
 Linger we o'er life's review, 
 Half forgetful of our mission 
 
 In the future grand and new. 
 
152 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Coming with the twilight shadows 
 They attend our midnight dreams, 
 
 Only flying when the meadows 
 
 Smiling greet the sun's first beams. 
 
 VANISHED DREAMS. 
 
 "P\0 you mind how we revelled with joy, Sister Bell, 
 
 \^J In the beautiful days of our youth, 
 When we lived in the vine-covered cot in the dell 
 
 And worshipped the goddess of Truth ? 
 We fancied, for ignorance ruled in our minds, 
 
 So innocent, too, as they were, 
 That all habitations held richly enshrined 
 
 The goddess' image so fair." 
 
 " Ah well, Brother Fred, we've grown wiser, you know, 
 
 The days of our childhood are o'er; 
 Their dreams are all vanished as vanished the snow 
 
 That dotted this sand-buried shore. 
 We've learned to conform to the world as it is, 
 
 So fickle, so vain and so cold; 
 And we strive not to take its exactions amiss 
 
 Though they rob our young hearts of their gold." 
 
 " Do you mind how we reared in our thoughts, Sister Bell, 
 
 A castle of workmanship rare, 
 Where the angels of wisdom and virtue might dwell 
 
 And the weary find refuge from care ? 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 153 
 
 How it vanished, and when, I can barely recall, 
 
 But I think in some time-serving scheme 
 I bartered it, carelessly bartered it all 
 
 For something more vain than a dream." 
 
 "Ah, well, Brother Fred, sigh no more for the past; 
 
 Look forward, new strength let us gain, 
 And build in the future a structure more vast 
 
 That heaven itself shall contain. 
 Experience has brought an abundant supply 
 
 Of materials, lasting and strong, 
 And our edifice, linking the earth and the sky, 
 
 Shall to God and to Nature belong." 
 
 THE SUNBEAM. 
 
 O SUNBEAM, floating pure and fair, 
 Say, dost thou bring us blessings down 
 From the free realms of the upper air, 
 That lie above this world of care, 
 Whose parentage we own ? 
 
 Yes, yes, I leave my gorgeous throne, 
 
 My home in the great sun's burning heart, 
 To dress the sky in the robes of dawn, 
 To circle the earth with a silver zone, 
 And to cheer the human heart." 
 
154 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 TO A CHILD. 
 
 CHILD, with eyes so full of ardor, 
 Gazing on yon azure field, 
 What sublime, majestic visions 
 
 Are unto thy soul revealed. 
 Seest thou the march of ages 
 
 O'er the rugged steeps of Time, 
 To whose highest, cloud-hung summit 
 Man's swift aspirations climb? 
 
 Are thine eyes the record reading 
 
 Of the mighty vanished Past ? 
 Learning how by zealous labor 
 
 She her untold wealth amassed. 
 Or art thou the Present scanning 
 
 While she weaves her threads of gold 
 Into shining garments destined 
 
 Life's true heroes to enfold ? 
 
 Or perchance thy spirit vision 
 
 Hath been quickened to discern, 
 Through the mist-enveloped distance, 
 
 Her for whose approach we yearn; 
 Knowing that she cometh laden 
 
 With our Father's gifts of love, 
 All by Wisdom's hand selected 
 
 From His treasury above. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 155 
 
 If, indeed, the Future smileth, 
 
 Favored child, upon thee now, 
 Tell her how with expectation 
 
 We are waiting here below; 
 Waiting in the lowly valleys 
 
 For her coming, who shall bring 
 That blest era whose perfections 
 
 Bards prophetic love to sing. 
 
 THE THREAD OF LIFE. 
 
 MY thread of live grows finer 
 As I wind it day by day, 
 'Twas once a cord, both stout and strong 
 And while I wound it seemed so long, 
 Nay, endless to my youthful thought, 
 Impatient and untaught. 
 
 My thread of life grows weaker, 
 And I tremble lest it break 
 Ere my allotted task is done, 
 Ere quiet evening has begun 
 Her reign, ere fades the sunset glow 
 From yonder banks of snow. 
 
156 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 PEACE, BE STILL. 
 
 RESTLESS souls your lot bemoaning, 
 Peace, be still; 
 You can make this earth an eden 
 If you will. 
 
 All you need is love and patience 
 
 For the work; 
 Rouse ye! lo, the dawn is peering 
 
 Through the murk. 
 
 Soon the sun of Truth will brighten 
 
 All the sky; 
 Then no longer in the darkness 
 
 May you lie. 
 
 When he has dispersed the shadows 
 
 Hovering near, 
 Then the beauties of life's landscape 
 
 Will appear. 
 
 Ne'er presume God's earnest workmen 
 
 To deride; 
 If you cannot join their labors 
 
 Stand aside. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 157 
 
 Stand aside, and with your love-words 
 
 Cheer them on; 
 Tell them He has given talents 
 
 To each one. 
 
 Precious gifts, that wisely planted 
 
 In the field, 
 Strengthening food to craving natures 
 
 Soon may yield. 
 
 On your hearts imprint this lesson, 
 
 Wisdom rife, 
 Love and Labor are the mainsprings 
 
 Of all life. 
 
 RETURN OF GLADNESS. 
 
 WEARY heart, cast off thy sadness, 
 Drag no more the chains of care, 
 Hither comes the angel Gladness, 
 Haste, prepare, 
 
 Thy best chamber for her rest; 
 She will be thy constant guest. 
 
 Lo! the dark wings of night's shadows 
 
 All are spread for distant flight, 
 Troops of sunbeams fleck the meadows 
 Green with light, 
 
 While the rainbow-mantled hours 
 Tend with joy life's opening flowers. 
 
158 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 BE MERCIFUL. 
 
 SHOULD thy brother or thy sister 
 In their weakness go astray, 
 Do not close thy door upon them 
 
 Bidding them be gone for aye; 
 Win them back by calm persuasion, 
 In an earnest, friendly way. 
 
 Oft the first step downward tending 
 
 Is repented bitterly, 
 And the humbled soul would gladly 
 
 Back unto its refuge flee. 
 Let not then thy coldness plunge it 
 
 Deeper in iniquity. 
 
 Men and women, wearing proudly 
 Virtue's emblem, pause, I pray, 
 
 And reflect upon your duties, 
 
 Lest, when comes a reckoning day, 
 
 He may charge you with the ruin 
 Of some wretched cast-away. 
 
 In the eyes of God, believe me, 
 
 Love diffusing Charity, 
 Is the noblest of all virtues; 
 
 Bounteous his reward will be 
 Who its blessed seed shall scatter 
 
 Freely o'er humanity. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 159 
 
 THE PLEA OF ADVERSITY. 
 
 YE foolish ones, who fear and hate me so, 
 And pray for my destruction, day by day, 
 Pause and reflect upon your ignorance 
 Of my high mission. They who know me best 
 Confess how much of patience, strength of mind, 
 Wisdom and charity they have received 
 From my unstinting hand. Do ye not know 
 That ere the barren soil can fruits produce, 
 Nutritious and refined in quality, 
 The sharp-edged plough-share must be driven deep 
 Beneath its surface, tearing into shreds 
 The matted roots of weeds that long have kept 
 All nobler vegetation from the field? 
 I am God's plough-share; through the human mind 
 I quickly glide, upturning in my course 
 The roots of sin and folly, weeds most vile. 
 Repentance is the harrow following me, 
 And after it comes Virtue, scattering 
 Her precious seed, the germs of all that seem 
 To us most good, most pure, most beautiful. 
 How gladdening is the sunshine to your sight! 
 How grateful to your bodies is its warmth! 
 But who among earth's children would desire 
 Its presence always? Weary of the glare, 
 
l6o MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Would they not long for evening's quiet shades 
 To lull their o'er-wrought energies to rest? 
 You, looking downward, say despondingly, 
 How much of beauty does the night conceal! 
 I, looking upward, cry exultantly, 
 How much of beauty does the night reveal! 
 For then are visible those shining spheres, 
 Those wondrous atoms in the body of God, 
 That witness bear to His immensity. 
 So when my gloom o'erspreads the human soul 
 Its glowing traits of goodness, beauty, grace, 
 Appear as never they appeared before 
 When 'twas submerged beneath the flood of light 
 Poured from Prosperity's effulgent sun. 
 O, when I come receive me patiently, 
 And entertain me kindly while I stay, 
 For I am sent a temple to prepare 
 Within your hearts for Deity's own use; 
 There may you carry your complaints, and there 
 Receive His counsel and encouragement 
 When cares perplex or dangers terrify, 
 Till stronger grown, and nobler, and more wise, 
 And clear of vision, you shall cry aloud, 
 " Blessed be Adversity, stern monitor, 
 Whose presence purifies and fits mankind 
 For the enjoyment of a higher bliss 
 Than earth has ever known — the bliss of Heaven. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 161 
 
 FAME. 
 
 LET him look to his armor well 
 Who would wrest from the world a name, 
 Who would hear in his praise the clanging bell 
 That swings in the turret of Fame, 
 In the tower of the monarch Fame. 
 
 Let him laugh at the word — despair; 
 Let him nothing know of fear, 
 
 Who would claim in the garden of memory 
 A place for his funeral bier, 
 Where the leaves nor fade nor sear. 
 
 From his vigils and his toil 
 
 He must ne'er presume to rest, 
 For Scorn has a thousand shafts to hurl 
 
 At the undefended breast, 
 
 At the young, unguarded breast. 
 
 Alas! 'Tis a thankless task, 
 
 And oft when the prize is gained, 
 The heavy crown, with its rustling leaves, 
 
 Oppresses the aching brain, 
 
 The weary, toil-worn brain. 
 
162 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 GREETING TO SORROW. 
 
 SORROW, old friend, sit down, sit down; 
 Thy well-known knock so oft I hear 
 That I am careless of thy frown, 
 
 And no more fear, 
 As once I did, thy haggard eyes, 
 Nor tremble at thy gusty sighs. 
 
 No more I run away from thee 
 And cover up my frightened head, 
 
 For thus I reason, quietly; 
 When I am dead 
 
 What will it matter whether thou 
 
 Or Joy has wreathed this mortal brow. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1 63 
 
 THE ROSE. 
 
 MY spirit eyes beheld 
 Life's crimson current pour 
 From the poor crushed heart of a queenly rose 
 That grew by my cottage door. 
 
 The hand that beat it down, 
 
 And scattered its fragrant leaves, 
 Went forth to the fields at a later day 
 
 To garner the golden sheaves. 
 
 But the blood of the murdered rose 
 
 Had bereft it of all power, 
 And it shook in the breath of the passing breeze 
 
 And withered, hour by hour. 
 
 I turned to view again 
 
 The stem where the rose had been; 
 And lo! another more beautiful 
 
 Than ever mine eyes had seen. 
 
 I kissed its sweet, sweet lips, 
 
 And drank its odorous breath, 
 And thanked the Creator for the life 
 
 So rare evolved from death. 
 
164 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE THUNDER STORM. 
 
 EXTRACT FROM A LOST POEM. 
 
 EVE was approaching and I saw 
 A storm hung on her shadowy trail. 
 Around me all was still with fear, 
 But, in the distance, I could hear 
 The coming tempest's hideous wail 
 
 I sought for shelter; but before 
 
 The mansion's entrance I could gain, 
 The mighty storm, by furies hurled, 
 Descended on the shuddering world 
 In one o'erwhelming flood of rain. 
 
 A thousand thunders, blent in one, 
 
 Crashed on the awful lightning's blaze, 
 That in bewildering splendor streamed 
 And, followed by thick darkness, seemed 
 The ending of created days. 
 
 The angels of the night were there, 
 
 With baleful light their wild eyes shone; 
 And I could see their daggers glare 
 Above, around me, everywhere, 
 While I stood trembling and alone. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 165 
 
 At last from out the troubled heavens, 
 
 That opened for its egress, came 
 A wondrous glory; not the sun, 
 Throned on the clear blue arch of noon, 
 
 Could match that moving sea of flame. 
 
 'Twas but a moment, yet I saw 
 
 The trees writhe in its radiant arms, 
 That held them in a close embrace, 
 Then left them blackened, shorn of grace, 
 And riven of their leafy charms. 
 
 'Twas but a moment, for I swooned 
 
 When the strange glory o'er me passed; 
 
 Prone on the cold, rain-soddened clay, 
 
 Bereft of consciousness I lay, 
 
 Dead to the present and the past. 
 
l66 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 EXCELSIOR." 
 
 " And from the sky, serene and far, 
 A voice fell, like a falling star- 
 Excelsior! " 
 
 " TJ I AWATHA," harp teolian, 
 
 11 Ever fitful is thy music, 
 
 Now exultant, now desponding; 
 
 Rhythem quaint, unique and rhymeless, 
 "Youth and age " alike enjoy thee. 
 
 "Wayside Inn," thou old time relic, 
 Ark of refuge for the pilgrim 
 During flood, and storm, and darkness. 
 Sage and simpleton, together 
 Welcome find, and share the comfort 
 Of thy hospital fireside 
 Round which Mirth, and Wit, and Wisdunv 
 Through the Summer, and the Winter, 
 Hive their store for others' pleasure. 
 
 "Life's pure Psalm," and "Angel Footsteps.' 
 "Occupation of Orion." 
 " Nuremburg. " Beleaguered City." 
 Gentle, true "Evangeline." 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 167 
 
 Flower-de-Luce." "Saint Filomena." 
 Epemetheus." " Tegner's Drapa." 
 Ladder, steep, of St. Augustine." 
 Light of Stars." " The Village Blacksmith." 
 Old companions all, low murmuring 
 Words of cheer, and hope, and comfort. 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 O LOVELY morning, fresh and new 
 Thou risest from thy bath of dew, 
 The sunshine on thy face, the love 
 Of God within thy glowing heart; 
 
 Each songster of the woodland grove 
 Proclaims how beautiful thou art. 
 
 Thou bringest joy, thou bringest health, 
 Thou scatterest wisdom's golden wealth, 
 
 That all mankind may plenty find 
 In future time their wants to sate. 
 
 "Wake, slumberer, wake! enrich thy mind," 
 Thou urgest, " ere it be too late." 
 
 O morning bright, the grateful East 
 Hath well partaken at thy feast; 
 
 And now life's myriads at the West 
 Await thy coming with desire 
 
 Most fervent. Go, thou truly blest, 
 Their hands employ, their hearts inspire. 
 
l68 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Hope walks with thee, and Faith delights 
 To greet thee from her sunny heights 
 
 As swiftly glide thy busy feet 
 Among the various homes of men, 
 
 Who lose thee unconcerned, O sweet! 
 Knowing thou wilt return again. 
 
 Knowing thou wilt return. The faith 
 That grandly triumphs over death 
 
 And absence and the ills of time 
 Assures us of thy constancy, 
 
 Thou hand-maid of the Power benign 
 Whose soul enwraps eternitv. 
 
 KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 WHO is it with the grandly towering form, 
 The stately head, the brow magnificent, 
 The calm reposeful eyes, the noble mien, 
 The limbs indicative of strength and grace ? 
 
 Knowledge. Who else could be so self-contained, 
 So undisturbed among the whirl of change, 
 The crash of systems, when Destruction drives 
 His flaming chariot through the Universe. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 169 
 
 THE VOYAGE. 
 
 THE waves were rough, the night was dark 
 When ventured forth a tiny barque 
 Into the open sea of life; 
 How could it live amid such strife! 
 'Twas driven onward by the wind, 
 That like a fury raged behind; 
 The billows, threatening, o'er it hung; 
 The lightening licked, with fiery tongue, 
 Its quivering form; the thunders hurled 
 The fragments of a ruined world 
 Along its pathway. What weird charm 
 Preserved the little one from harm? 
 
 Upon the prow sat angels three — 
 Sweet Patience, Faith, and Purity, 
 Who held by cords invisible 
 To that fair Heaven they knew so well. 
 Down these the power of Deity 
 Descended to those angels three, 
 And Discord and his minions rude 
 Were soon to harmlessness subdued. 
 The tiny barque is urged no more 
 By tempest fiends the rough surge o'er; 
 From mortal dread she finds release, 
 She's made the sheltering port of Peace. 
 
170 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE GRAND LABORATORY 
 
 A LABORATORY is the universe, 
 Where toil in secret the Life Principles 
 Directed by the Master Chemist — God. 
 By wondrous skill, through curious processes, 
 Matter therein to spirit is resolved; 
 Each day, each hour, each moment witnesses 
 Some grand transfiguration. Upward tend 
 The sublimated particles, set free 
 From gross associations, still to be 
 Repurified in yet more ardent fires, 
 Until their very essence is obtained, 
 From which may be distilled a matchless wine, 
 A nectar grateful to the Deity. 
 But let us not, while with transported eyes 
 We view this miracle of change, forget 
 That even the refuse has good service done, 
 And in the future, uses new will find; 
 It has its value, else 'twould not exist; 
 Who aught despises, scorns unwittingly 
 The great Creator's wisdom. Let us, t 1 -n, 
 Rest satisfied that all has been designea 
 Just as it is for universal good. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 171 
 
 THE DEFIANCE. 
 
 I FLING the iron gauntlet down, 
 O Fate, I fling it at thy feet, 
 Henceforth, come triumph or defeat, 
 I spurn thy smile, I scorn thy frown. 
 
 My soul is royal; know, stern Fate, 
 
 Thou canst not crush it 'neath thy heel; 
 The heir of Liberty, 'twill kneel 
 
 No more to thee in abject state. 
 
 It feels how near it is to Him, 
 The Spirit of the Universe, 
 And Love, its gentle mother-nurse, 
 
 Whose thoughts are one outpouring hymn 
 
 Of prayer and praise and gratitude. 
 O Fate with such a friend as this, 
 Think you I'll want for peace or bliss, 
 
 Though hurt by thee in vengeful mood? 
 
I72 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE VIOLET. 
 
 A VIOLET, sleeping, dreamed of Spring, 
 Her sunny skies and balmy air, 
 Her butterflies that lightly swing 
 
 On scented flower and blossom rare. 
 
 Her singing birds that cheer the hours 
 
 With music as they gaily pass; 
 Her dew drops and her silvery showers 
 
 That bring new vigor to the grass. 
 
 The violet woke, and lo! the earth 
 Was folded in a shroud of snow, 
 
 And scarce the lovely thing had birth 
 Ere death appeared and laid her low. 
 
 The snow dissolved, the sun smiled down, 
 And other violets waked to bliss. 
 
 But she, who graced Spring's earliest crown, 
 Felt nevermore the sunbeam's kiss. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 173 
 
 SHINE FORTH, O SUN. 
 
 SHINE forth, O sun divine! 
 Drive from the world its gloom; 
 Search every nook of the human mind, 
 And, where we now but vile weeds find, 
 Make odorous lilies bloom. 
 
 Shine forth, O sun divine! 
 
 Too long has darkness worn 
 The crown. O haste, thou power sublime, 
 And usher in the bride of Time — 
 
 The fair millenial morn. 
 
 Shine forth, O sun divine! 
 
 O glorious orb of Truth! 
 Till earth shall be what God designed, 
 And Age shall on his forehead bind 
 
 The amaranth buds of Youth. 
 
174 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE NEW ARMAMENT. 
 
 COME, behold, ye brave defenders 
 Of the Union, great and grand, 
 Where the daughters of the Nation 
 
 In a solid phalanx stand; 
 All in shining armor dressed, 
 
 Love and zeal inspire each breast. 
 
 All along their lines the signals, 
 
 Iridescent, flash and glow, 
 Lighting up the field of conflict, 
 
 Showing still where lurks the foe. 
 Sin, though wearing Virtue's guise, 
 
 May not scape their searching eyes. 
 
 Never will they shrink or falter 
 In this struggle for the right; 
 
 Justice, raising high her standard, 
 Leads and cheers them in the fight. 
 
 'Gainst corruption they contend, 
 Sure of victory in the end. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 175 
 
 FORWARD! 
 
 ONWARD, with purpose high, 
 Thinkers and workers; 
 Storm all the forts of sin, 
 None may be shirkers. 
 Bring forth your banners now, 
 
 From their obscurity, 
 Stamped with the mottoes fair — 
 Charity! purity! 
 
 Lo! the world struggles on 
 
 Toward the morrow, 
 Lashed with the whip of crime, 
 
 Tortured by sorrow. 
 What is her need, you ask? 
 
 Friends, of a surety, 
 Purity! charity! 
 
 Charity! purity! 
 
 Vainly the dogs of hell, 
 
 Bark in your pathway; 
 Time goes, with keen-edged scythe, 
 
 Mowing a swath-way 
 Through their infernal realms, 
 
 Into futurity, 
 For love's evangelists — 
 
 Charity! purity! 
 
I76 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Onward then, faithful hearts, 
 
 Steadily, boldly; 
 What though the time-servers 
 
 Turn from you coldly. 
 Still grasp the shield of right, 
 
 'Tis your security; 
 Still let your watchword be — 
 
 Charity! purity! 
 
 SONG OF THE PINES. 
 
 LISTEN to the warning uttered 
 By the stately pines: 
 " Winter's coming, Winter's coming, 
 Know ye not the signs? 
 
 " All our sisters of the forest, 
 Fearful of his frowns, 
 In mute homage cast before him 
 Their umbrageous crowns. 
 
 " We alone, with pride unhumbled, 
 Still defy his power; 
 Never will we play the craven, 
 Ne'er our banners lower. 
 
 " Tender birdlings, shyly nestling 
 In our bosoms, find 
 Peaceful shelter from the rainstorms 
 And the raging wind. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. I 77 
 
 " Once a friend, a friend for ever, 
 Shall our motto be; 
 Make it yours, O fickle children, 
 Of humanity! 
 
 " Through the Summer and the Winter 
 We are still the same, 
 Making always, 'mid time's changes, 
 Constancy our aim. 
 
 " True unto ourselves and others, 
 Though it rains or shines, 
 You may learn a useful lesson 
 Even from the pines." 
 
 MAKE BEAUTIFUL YOUR SOUL- 
 GARDENS. 
 
 WORK in your soul-gardens, make of them edens 
 Where God's pure angels with pleasure may rove; 
 Fill them with treasures from Nature's abundance, 
 Sunshine, and roses, and music, and love. 
 Flowerets of every dye, 
 Let them make glad the eye, 
 While their rich fragrance the atmosphere fills. 
 Let the bright birds of song, 
 Flitting the groves among, 
 Spell-bind the ear with their exquisite trills. 
 
178 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Let Aspiration's grand fountains, upspringing, 
 Toss their light spray in the face of the sky; 
 Let meek Humility's rivulets warble 
 Unto their pebbles the peace lullaby. 
 
 And, when your work is done, 
 
 Call unto every one, 
 " Friend, if thou wilt, to my garden repair. 
 
 Not for my use alone 
 
 Do I its treasures own, 
 Welcome are all in its fulness to share." 
 
 O SON OF TOIL AND HONESTY. 
 
 OSON of Toil and Honesty, 
 Soul-wed to sweet Simplicity, 
 Lament not thou thy lack of wealth; 
 Thy blest inheritance is health, 
 A kindly heart, a conscience clear, 
 A courage ne'er disgraced by fear, 
 Tranquility of mind, and power 
 To use for good the present hour. 
 
 O son of Toil and Honesty, 
 
 Fair Virtue loves to honor thee. 
 
 She flies from Fashion's flaunting throng, 
 
 To sit thy humble guests among. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. I 79 
 
 Where moderate mirth o'errules excess, 
 
 Where Youth and Age with fond caress 
 Each other greet, while Peace invites 
 All to enjoy her pure delights. 
 
 PENITENT. 
 
 AND so you are repentant, and you crave 
 Forgiveness for your weakness and deceit? 
 Ah, well! I pardon you beside the grave 
 
 Of those twin sisters, delicate and sweet, 
 Dear Faith and Love, who made our home complete 
 
 The while their presence graced it; now, ah woe! 
 Their hearts are pulseless, motionless their feet; 
 Dead, dead and buried neath the winter's snow. 
 
 Who now shall fill their vacant seats ? who cheer 
 
 The heart so comfortless, so seared with pain ? 
 Two gentle voices murmur, " We are here! 
 
 Raise thy sad eyes to Heaven and smile again." 
 Even as the rose, bowed 'neath the shock of rain, 
 
 Glows afterward still lovelier through her tears, 
 So Charity and Patience seek to train 
 
 The soul's affections in life's later years. 
 
l8o MISCELLANEOUS POEM?. 
 
 THE PROPHECY. 
 
 O SENSITIVE, sad heart, low sunk in pain, 
 As the wrecked vessel in the stormy main, 
 Hast thou relinquished Hope, the steadfast buoy? 
 Arise and grasp her, she lies near to Joy, 
 Whose smiles shall quicken thy now sluggish strength, 
 And thou the port of Happiness at length 
 Shall reach in safety. Courage then, faint heart, 
 Remember what thou wast, and what thou art. 
 
 Remember what thou wast, and what thou art, 
 
 And what thou shalt be. Cheer thee, drooping heart, 
 
 The bow of promise spans the glowing skies 
 
 That bend above thee. Dark despondance flies 
 
 Thy glory-hallowed presence, and, behold! 
 
 Love, pure, eternal love, waits to enfold 
 
 Thy being in its blissful ecstacy. 
 
 O heart, accept, believe this prophecy. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. l8l 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 THE darkness vanishes; the morning comes 
 Fresh from her fragrant bath of dew. Her hair, 
 Glistening with pearly beads, far westerly 
 Its darkening shadow throws, while now the East, 
 Flooded with light from her effulgent eyes, 
 Awakes to bid her welcome to our shores. 
 On bush and tree the birds their matin songs 
 Warble in concert, giving Nature's God 
 Due praise for their existence. Smiling flowers, 
 In beauty's garments clad, declare their joy 
 In language only he can understand 
 Whose soul is the abode of purity. 
 They freight the atmosphere with incense rare; 
 They draw sweet nectar from the founts within 
 Their tender beings, to refresh the minds 
 Of any weary and despondent grown, 
 Because o'erburdened with the cares of time. 
 So lovely, so attractive is the scene, 
 That Innocence and Harmony descend 
 From the celestial groves to walk the earth, 
 And hold communion with the sons of men 
 
182 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE SILENT ROCK. 
 
 TOWERING rock, moss-grown and hoary, 
 Darkening the creeping waters, 
 Over which, in gloomy silence, 
 You have leaned in by-gone ages 
 Even as you lean at present. 
 
 You could tell us many a story 
 
 Of the first weird revelation 
 
 When the earth with throes and struggles, 
 
 Ofttimes fearful and prodigious, 
 
 Strove to free herself from chaos. 
 
 Time's mute sentinel, grim-visaged, 
 You could lift the sable curtain 
 Shutting from our eager vision 
 The strange secret of our being, 
 The grand mystery of existence. 
 
 You could render far more certain 
 Our conjectures of the future 
 Would you but reveal the motive 
 That induced the past to foster 
 All life's wonderful creations. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 183 
 
 But, alas! we cannot move thee; 
 Vain are all our fond entreaties, 
 Useless all expostulation. 
 Constancy herself o'erawed is 
 By thy nature hard and steadfast. 
 
 Well, since thou no explanation 
 Wilt vouchsafe, we'll leave thy presence; 
 Leave thee even as we found thee, 
 In the cloak of mystery shrouded, 
 Listening to the crooning waters. 
 
 MAKE YOUR REASON FREE. 
 
 FRIEND, how can you, friend, how dare you 
 Chain your reason in the gloom? 
 Shut it from the light of heaven 
 
 In a lonesome, living tomb ? 
 'Tis the noblest gift of nature, 
 
 'Tis the favorite child of God; 
 Him you wrong when you abuse it, 
 Burden it with error's load. 
 
 Sever all the bonds that bind it, 
 
 Let it soar the stars above; 
 Let it learn the truth inspiring, 
 
 God is beauty, God is Love. 
 
184 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 If you will but grant it freedom, 
 Let it Wisdom's path pursue, 
 
 It will bless you in the future 
 
 With acquirements grand and new. 
 
 It will change your mind's poor hovel 
 
 To a palace fit for kings, 
 And your thought's disordered garden 
 
 Fill with pure and lovely things. 
 It will show you all the riches 
 
 In creation's treasury; 
 It will teach your questioning spirit 
 
 What has been and what shall be. 
 
 It will give you wings to lift you 
 
 Over all the loathsome slime 
 Left upon life's weedy places 
 
 By the passing waves of time. 
 O restrain it then no longer, 
 
 Give your reason liberty 
 Truth to seek, for God has said it, 
 
 Truth when found shall set you free. 
 
Poems of the Affections. 
 
. MY NELL. 
 
 PRETTY, laughing, blue-eyed Nell 
 I have loved her long and well; 
 Loved her more than I can tell. 
 
 But whenever I essay 
 To declare it, like a fay 
 Blushing Nellie flits away. 
 
 She is shy as any bird, 
 
 And her heart with fear is stirred 
 
 At love's lightest whispered word. 
 
 Well, she's young yet; she will grow 
 
 In another year or so 
 
 Life's most charming charm to know. 
 
 Sometime she will wake and find 
 That great Wisdom's self designed 
 Wedded bliss for human kind. 
 
 Meanwhile, I will hope and pray 
 That when comes that wakening day 
 She will turn to me and say, 
 
 "You have been so kind and true 
 That I nothing else can do 
 Than bestow myself on you 
 
POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 
 
 None so dear my heart has known; 
 Take me then, my love, my own, 
 I will live for you alone." 
 
 OUR MAY. 
 
 5 r I ^WAS morn when I beheld her first, 
 1 The child entrusted to my care; 
 
 I scarce dared kiss her tiny cheek 
 She seemed a thing so frail, so fair. 
 
 I hailed her as a priceless gift 
 
 Fresh from the great Creator's hand, 
 
 And watched while oft in dreams she held 
 Sweet converse with the angel band. 
 
 We called her May, because she came 
 To us in that bright month of flowers, 
 
 And Hope sang at her birth, and Joy 
 
 With garlands crowned the smiling hours. 
 
 Five years, that seemed as many days 
 So full of happy cares were they, 
 
 Lengthened the soft, bright, clustering curls, 
 The golden ringlets of our May. 
 
POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 1 89 
 
 A.h, me!' I fear to worship grew 
 
 The all-absorbing love I bore 
 My gentle child, whose busy tongue 
 
 Will cheer my lonely heart no more. 
 
 'Twas evening time when last I saw 
 
 Her blue eyes beaming love on me, 
 •For, though her form was racked with pain, 
 
 She suffered, oh, so patiently! 
 
 And when the voice from Heaven was heard 
 
 Bidding my treasure haste away, 
 She, smiling, fled, my pretty one, 
 
 Murm'ring, " Mamma's own darling May." 
 
 EVENING AND MORNING. 
 
 EVE cometh; 'neath my leaty vine 
 I hide me and in secret pine. 
 
 Out through its trellis-work I gaze 
 Upon the moon, whose mellow rays 
 
 Seem struggling to impart relief 
 To my poor heart beset with grief. 
 
 The nightingale is singing near; 
 I'll pour my sorrow in her ear. 
 
190 POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 
 
 I know the gentle bird for me 
 Will feel love's deepest sympathy, 
 
 Since she has suffered, I am told, 
 Most cruelly in days of old. 
 
 My good old nurse, so kind, so true, 
 I loved her better than I loved 
 
 My haughty kin, whose hearts I knew, 
 Were ne'er to sweet compassion moved. 
 
 They took a certain pride in me 
 
 Because, they said, my face was fair; 
 
 My form was good, and all could see 
 I had the true patrician air. 
 
 Perhaps I had; but there, ah, there 
 My birthright ended; for you'll find 
 
 These charms, this proud, patrician air 
 Were wedded to a plebian mind. 
 
 I loved my nurse's only son, 
 
 And promised to bestow my hand 
 
 Upon him when our race was run 
 
 Through childhood's happy fairy land. 
 
 Young as we were, we seemed to know 
 We trespassed on forbidden ground, 
 
 But still Hope's lovely flowers would grow, 
 And still we picked them from the mound 
 
POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 191 
 
 Time passed, and childhood, with a smile, 
 Gave place to more reflective youth; 
 
 We loved more fondly all the while, 
 And pledged each other vows of truth. 
 
 Not fully did we realize 
 
 How custom ruled among the proud, 
 Till one day, lifting up our eyes, 
 
 We saw the overhanging cloud. 
 
 Wrath's whirlwind came, and all the air 
 Was thick with darkness where we stood; 
 
 It hurried him, I know not where, 
 But left me here in solitude. 
 
 My dark brown locks are mixed with gray, 
 My eyes are dull from shedding tears 
 
 Of sorrow o'er your graves, each day, 
 Ye dead but unforgotton years. " 
 
 A rustle near, some whispered words; 
 " My love, my constant love, at last 
 Thy soul's confession to the birds 
 Has. resurrected all the past. 
 
 I've wrested from the hand of Fate 
 Both rank and wealth, and at thy feet 
 
 The prizes fling, my own true mate, 
 Whom now on level ground I meet." 
 
I92 POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 
 
 The nightingale has ceased to sing; 
 The lark is warbling to the morn, 
 " Rejoice, for mid the flowers of Spring 
 A child of happiness is born!" 
 
 THE GLEAM IN THE HOUSE OF AZAH. 
 
 WOEFUL gloom hung darkly brooding over Azah's 
 lowly dwelling, 
 Since fair Zora, his beloved one, had by death been led 
 away, 
 In the glory of her bridehood, to the mystic realm of 
 Hades, 
 And her husband's heart was lonely in the chamber 
 where he lay. 
 
 Moaned he thus: " My pearl of beauty, when we first were 
 joined together, 
 Hand in hand, and heart in heart, methought the tie was 
 strong as fate; 
 But, alas! like flowing water hast thou slid from my em- 
 braces; 
 Oh! return; return and cheer again my life so desolate. 
 
 " Zora! Zora!" Is it possible that souls absorbed in heaven 
 
 Can be drawn from their felicity by anguished love on 
 
 earth ? 
 
 Ye who question, wait the answer in the sequel of my story, 
 
 And no longer doubt affection's power, its vastness or its 
 
 worth. 
 
POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 1 93 
 
 Midnight reigned within his chamber, deeper midnight in 
 his bosom, 
 And the cry of " Zora! Zora!" seemed to shake the outer 
 wall, 
 When, oh! wonder, on the ceiling o'er his head appeared a 
 gleaming 
 Silvery haze, like drifted moonlight, ere had ceased that 
 pleading call. 
 
 'Twas her smile, and through its splendor dawned the sem- 
 blance of her features, 
 While her voice with liquid music filled the portals of his 
 ear; 
 And like balm upon his spirit fell these words of tender 
 
 meaning. 
 " Why invokest thou, my husband, her who cannot choose 
 but hear ? 
 
 Hear and heed thy faintest whisper, — nay, thy lightest 
 thought compels me, 
 For my being flows around thee as the waters round the 
 earth; 
 Then for my sake be thou patient till thy ripe soul shall 
 dissever 
 Nature's frame-work that has guarded, clothed, and 
 nourished it from birth. 
 
 So, made strong by mortal trials, thou mayest bear me in 
 thy bosom 
 
 To the empyrean circle, into bliss all thought above, 
 Where, by virtue sublimated to the rarest, purest essence, 
 
 We at last may freely mingle in the sacred fount of Love." 
 
194 
 
 POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 
 
 Now the lovely vision faded, and the voice of murmuring 
 music 
 Chased no more reluctant silence from the chamber dark 
 and lone; 
 But in Azah's heart was gladness, for the gleam upon the 
 ceiling, 
 There transferred, in shining letters stamped the motto, 
 We are one. 
 
 THROUGH THE GREEN WOODLANDS. 
 
 THROUGH the green woodlands a carolling maiden, 
 Fairer, more fresh than the dawn, 
 'Mong the low branches, all dripping with garlands, 
 Bounds like a light-footed fawn. 
 
 He who can win her will hold in possession 
 Something more precious than wealth; 
 
 For, let me whisper, the name of this maiden, 
 This peerless young beauty is — Health. 
 
POEMS UF THE AFFECTIONS. 195 
 
 THE YOUNG FARMER'S PROPOSAL. 
 
 DEAR Rose, I've neither gold nor pearls 
 Nor precious gems to lay before thee; 
 Nor have I gift of eloquence 
 
 To shower the dew of flattery o'er thee. 
 
 A vine-wreathed cot, a little farm, 
 Is all I own of this world's treasures, 
 
 And yet methinks a palace home 
 
 Could hardly yield me greater pleasures. 
 
 I till the ever fruitful soil, 
 
 A self-imposed and pleasant duty, 
 
 And watch the creatures of my toil 
 
 Grow every day in strength and beauty. 
 
 I have no fountain forced by art 
 In jets fantastic, near my dwelling, 
 
 But in its place a singing stream 
 Flows on, its waters never failing. 
 
 There throng the moisture loving flowers, 
 Where green-leaved willows fence the brink, 
 
 And there in Summer's burning hours 
 The thirsty sunbeams stoop to drink. 
 
196 POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 
 
 Each fruit, each flower I've heard thee praise 
 Waits in my garden, love for thee; 
 
 Come view thy favorite roses there, 
 And let their red lips plead for me. 
 
 For I am only nature taught; 
 
 Dear one, I can but say, I love thee; 
 Then let these few and simple words 
 
 To tenderest compassion move thee. 
 
 Methinks I see love's own true light 
 Flash in those dear blue eyes of thine; 
 
 O turn them on me, let them cheer 
 
 This trembling, doubting heart of mine. 
 
 Bless thee for that confiding look, 
 And for thy sweet lips' timid kiss; 
 
 'Twere worth a lifetime but to feel 
 One hour of perfect joy like this. 
 
POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. I97 
 
 AFFECTION. 
 
 ODEAR affection! when you came 
 The world, that was so dark before, 
 Grew suddenly alight with flame 
 
 Of roseate hue. Ah! ne'er before 
 Was seen such splendors in the skies — 
 Reflections of thy radiant eyes. 
 
 O dear Affection, Heaven-sent boon, 
 How sweetenest thou the cup of life! 
 
 Unmoved as yonder patient moon 
 Thou witnessest the cares, the strife, 
 
 The trials of our mortal lot; 
 
 Thou feelest all, but changest not. 
 
I98 POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 
 
 ACCEPTED. 
 
 O SWEET, if you knew how I love you! 
 If only you knew 
 How the heart, that among all life's millions 
 Regards but a few — 
 
 Has only a handful of sterling 
 
 Good friends on the earth, 
 Bows low in devout adoration 
 
 Beholding your worth. 
 
 Nay! hear me. Go not, I entreat you; 
 
 The door is too near — 
 Let me close it. So long have I waited 
 
 To gain your fair ear, 
 
 And pondered how I should address you — 
 
 What eloquent words 
 Should ravish your mind like the trilling 
 
 Of musical birds. 
 
 Poor fool that I was! Now the moment 
 
 So longed for has come, 
 My soul, overwhelmed by its passion, 
 
 Lies motionless, dumb. 
 
POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. I99 
 
 My lips in their duty have failed, love; 
 
 They cannot portray 
 The feelings long kept in my bosom 
 
 Close locked from the day. 
 
 Those beautiful eyes that upon me 
 
 So tenderly shine, 
 Embolden me farther. Nay, shrink not. 
 
 Say, will you be mine ? 
 
 The star of my guidance forever, 
 
 My own faithful wife ? 
 Thank God! you are won; and how blissful, 
 
 How precious is life! 
 
 THE HAUNTING EYES. 
 
 AH! how those dark eyes haunt me; how they burn 
 Into the very core of my rapt soul; 
 Where e'er I go, whichever way I turn, 
 Before me like twin planets still they roll. 
 
 Now, like yon monarch of the white-robed days, 
 They blaze, they flash; their dazzling radiance 
 
 Bewilders, blinds me. Now their milder rays, 
 
 Like moonbeams, brighten all my thought's expanse. 
 
200 POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 
 
 Ah! how those dark eyes haunt me! In my dreams 
 They form a part of all things beautiful; 
 
 They stud the landscapes, twinkle in the streams, 
 And laugh from every flower I stoop to cull. 
 
 And yet I cannot grasp them. When my hands, 
 With passionate eagerness of love, essay 
 
 To do so, through my fingers' circling bands 
 They glide, nor leave behind one prisoned ray. 
 
 MABEL. 
 
 HER hands lay idly in her lap, 
 Her eyes were fixed on vacancy, 
 And this the burden of her thoughts — 
 " He never will come back to me." 
 
 that I could those words recall 
 That struck my image from his heart, 
 
 That drew this sentence from his lips: 
 'Mabel, forever we must forever part! ' 
 
 1 might have had a happy home, 
 
 I might have lived a useful life, 
 I might have been, O blissful lot, 
 
 A good man's dear and honored wife. 
 
POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 201 
 
 fool! in my vain ignorance 
 
 I thought the angels scarce my peers; 
 But this proud feeling, long ago, 
 Was washed away in stormy tears. 
 
 One summer evening by my side 
 
 He stood, who'd long resisted me 
 Though I had spent upon his head 
 
 My every shaft of coquetry, 
 
 And said, in secret, 'Thou shalt bow, 
 Thou shalt do homage at my feet; 
 
 1 will subdue that haughty soul 
 Which in itself is so complete.' 
 
 We stood in silence for a time, 
 
 Beneath the solemn, starlit sky, 
 While now and then a languid breeze, 
 
 Laden with perfume, wandered by. 
 
 " Mabel, I love you! Love you me ? " 
 
 I started at the question plain, 
 And threw upon the pale, calm face 
 
 A look of anger and disdain; 
 
 And thus exclaimed, " Presumptuous one 
 To think that I, whom but to please 
 
 A host would freely give their lives, 
 Could yield assent to words like these; 
 
POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 
 
 Cold words that speak a colder love — " 
 
 " Hold there," he cried, and grasped my hands, 
 
 "My heart has poured its lava streams 
 Too long upon the shifting sands; 
 
 "And now 'twould ask if they retain 
 Aught of that lava's warmth below 
 
 Their changeful surface. Love you me ? 
 Or tell me yes or tell me no." 
 
 Why was it that my heart repelled 
 The latter word, and urged me sore 
 
 To give the former with my hand — 
 My all to him for evermore ? 
 
 O slavish heart, I said, shame! shame! 
 
 Wouldst thou surrender to the foe ? 
 Where is thy boasted strength ? thy pride ? 
 
 Thou shalt not let thy freedom go. 
 
 That to myself, and this to him, — 
 "The sand no latent heat retains; 
 The sea has drowned it. Do you still 
 Desire the answer that remains 
 
 Unspoken yet? " " No, no;" he said, 
 
 " Those words of yours have chilled my heart 
 
 To ice already. Say no more. 
 Mabel, forever we must part." 
 
POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 203 
 
 He turned away, and never since 
 
 That hour have I beheld his face. 
 The sun comes up, the sun goes down, 
 
 While like a ghost I haunt this place. 
 
 Regret prays ever on my frame. 
 
 O bitter lot! O woeful fate! 
 To smart 'neath your enduring sting, 
 
 Ye cruel words, too late — too late. 
 
 THE FORGET-ME-NOT. 
 
 OH the beautiful, the blue, 
 Tender, true forget-me-not! 
 I remember where it grew, 
 Years ago, in one sweet spot, 
 
 Close beside a bubbling spring, 
 
 'Neath an oak tree's sheltering boughs, 
 
 Where the bright birds came to sing, 
 And exchange love's ardent vows. 
 
 There I found the tiny flowers, 
 And I plucked them for her hair, 
 
 Who, of all in Beauty's bowers, 
 Seemed to me most sweet and fair. 
 
204 POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 
 
 " Love," I whispered, " I would fain 
 Plant their meaning in thy thought, 
 So that, till we meet again, 
 
 Thou wouldst sure forget me not." 
 
 And she, blushing, answered, " Dear, 
 
 In the garden of my heart 
 They shall blossom, year by year, 
 
 For our solace when apart. 
 
 I will tend them with such care 
 That, what e'er may be our lot, 
 
 You shall find no flower so fair 
 As the sweet forget-me-not." 
 
 I am old, for, since that time, 
 
 Fifty years have fleeted by; 
 Youth's bright hours and manhood's prime 
 
 Far behind my footsteps lie. 
 
 Still my sainted love, I feel, 
 
 Visits oft my lonely cot, 
 Heedful of my fond appeal, — 
 
 Angel wife, forget me not! 
 
POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 205 
 
 THE FAREWELL. 
 
 ROSE, dear Rose, farewell, farewell! 
 Fair and fragrant as thou art, 
 I no more may drink thy breath. 
 Thou the fatal word hast spoken 
 That life's witching spell hath broken; 
 Love goes weeping to his death, 
 For, henceforth, we two, apart, 
 Must like careless strangers dwell. 
 
 O to see another wear 
 
 On his breast the flower I love! 
 
 How can I endure the thought! 
 
 Only one assurance given 
 
 Can make whole affection riven; 
 
 'Tis that love his soul hath taught 
 
 Thee to value far above 
 
 All on earth most good and rare. 
 
206 POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 
 
 THE VILLAGE BELLE. 
 
 SHE stands knee deep in the scented clover, 
 Bright-eyed Kitty, the village belle; 
 While lightly vaulting the green hedge over 
 Comes Harry, his tale of love to tell. 
 
 O sweet as the blossoms around her lifting 
 Their blushing faces to greet the sun, 
 
 Is the maiden, watching the white clouds drifting 
 O'er heaven's blue ocean, one by one. 
 
 Some whispered words; two dark eyes pleading 
 
 With love's seductive eloquence; 
 A brown hand's pressure, a kiss, succeeding 
 
 The answer ending the sore suspense. 
 
 Their feet on earth but their hearts in heaven 
 
 The happy lovers together walk; 
 All doubts and fears from their minds are driven 
 
 While of the future they gaily talk. 
 
 O dear enchantment, forever brighten 
 Their lives, nor ever thy spell remove, 
 
 Their joys enhance, their labors lighten, 
 Thou crown of blessings, immortal love. 
 
POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 207 
 
 THE PARTING. 
 
 THE garden gate was reached. I turned, 
 For then my fainting spirit yearned 
 To be assured if silently 
 Her tender eyes were following me. 
 
 joy! the chamber window gave 
 The comfort that my soul did crave, 
 For it revealed a vision bright, 
 
 My life's companion and delight. 
 
 She smiled a softened, sorrowing smile, 
 To cheer my going forth, the while. 
 
 1 knew her breast was filled with care, 
 And woe beyond her strength to bear. 
 
 My love, wherever I may be, 
 In memory's glass thy form I'll see, 
 Just as I left thee in that hour, 
 Framed in the casement of thy bower. 
 
208 POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 
 
 THE WIFE TO HER HUSBAND. 
 
 I THINK of thee, love, when lightfooted morning 
 Awakens with pure kiss the dreaming world; 
 When from earth's dewy brow the mists are rising, 
 
 And night's dark banner for awhile is furled; 
 When the fair morning star, grown pale with watching, 
 
 Yet lingers, her unrivalled lord to see, 
 Before life's drowsy host has roused to motion, 
 Or jarring tumult reigns, I think of thee, 
 
 I think of thee, when in his height of glory 
 
 The burning sun on earth benignant shines, 
 While from her bosom spring, in careless beauty, 
 
 Flowers, shrubs and plants, all colors and all kinds; 
 When frightened shadows creep in nooks and corners, 
 
 Fain from the sun-god's searching gaze to flee; 
 When leaf-hid warblers, with their tremulous music, 
 
 Enchant the listening ear, I thmk of tnee. 
 
 I think of thee, when silent eve advancing 
 
 In rich bright colors paints the quiet sky; 
 When pearl-white ships and ruby-tinted islands 
 
 Becalmed upon a golden ocean lie. 
 And when the stars take their accustomed places 
 
 In groups or singly as their fate may be, 
 They are to me like old familiar faces, 
 
 And while I gaze on them, I think of thee. 
 
POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 209 
 
 I think of thee, oh, dearest, never wholly 
 
 Are my thoughts driven from their resting place; 
 Though sometimes widely scattered, one still lingers 
 
 A watchful guardian o'er that hallowed vase 
 Filled with affection's drops of happiness, 
 
 Where as at some fair shrine I bow my knee, 
 And while its matchless incense round me hovers 
 
 I'll think of thee, dear love, I'll think of thee. 
 
 THE HUSBAND TO HIS WIFE. 
 
 DEAR, 'mid the trials of our life, 
 That hover round on stormy wing, 
 I have one thought to which I cling 
 With joy and pride. Thou art my wife, 
 The partner of my joys and woes; 
 I've drank with thee the cup of bliss, 
 Delicious as love's nectared kiss, 
 And borne with thee pain's cruel throes. 
 
 Whene'er Fate's vengeful lightnings dart, 
 And black-winged tempests round us blow, 
 How precious 'tis for me to know 
 
 Thou hast a shelter in my heart; 
 
 And only thou dost hold the key 
 To ope its portals at thy will, 
 And only thou hast power to thrill 
 
 Its every nerve with ecstacy 
 
2IO POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 
 
 O, ever since that first dear hour 
 
 I gave my honor to thy care, 
 
 Have we been faithful. None might share 
 With us our chaste and sacred bower, 
 In which arch Love, with shoulders bare, 
 
 Save where the ringlets ripple down 
 
 To kiss their dimples, smiles and frowns 
 'Mong scattered toys and blossoms rare. 
 
 And ever till the hour of death 
 
 For one or both will we be true; 
 
 Nay, longer. Through the ether blue 
 Points, with uplifted finger, Faith, 
 To yon fair world of life and light, 
 
 Where death is not, nor grief, nor pain; 
 
 There, let us trust, our souls again 
 Will in perpetual bliss unite. 
 
 MY ANGEL BOY. 
 
 MY angel comes to me in dreams, 
 My pretty boy with golden hair, 
 More fair, more pure than light he seems, 
 And more etherial than the air. 
 
 He brings me oft some beauteous flower 
 From his celestial realms of bliss, 
 
 And cheers the lonely midnight hour 
 With many a loving word and kiss- 
 
POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 211 
 
 He leaves a brightness in the room, 
 
 Which lasts throughout the toilsome day, 
 
 And when my heart is crushed with gloom 
 I thither go to kneel and pray. 
 
 There can I ever find true rest, 
 
 And hope, and comfort; there in peace 
 
 I clasp sweet memory to my breast, 
 And from my troubles find release. 
 
 BABY ANNIE. 
 
 BABY Annie, like a flower bud, 
 Slowly, day by day, expands. 
 Sometime we shall lose our darling 
 With the tiny, dimpled hands; 
 
 With the odd, grave look of wonder 
 At the strange new things she sees; 
 
 With the motions fitful, restless, 
 As the motions of the breeze. 
 
 Sometime we shall lose our darling; 
 
 In her place we may behold, 
 By and by, a beauteous lady, 
 
 Stately, self-possessed and cold. 
 
POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 
 
 So adorned by art that Nature's 
 Pretty charms are hidden quite 
 
 'Neath the cultivated graces 
 
 Which proud Fashion's eye delight. 
 
 This may be, dear baby Annie, 
 
 Since your mother's traits you show; 
 
 Well the dainty bud we'll cherish 
 Till the splendid flower shall blow. 
 
 THE MIDNIGHT CRY. 
 
 A CRY rang out in the desolate night: 
 " Come, Love, oh, come to me! 
 Haste and remove the mildew blight 
 Which has fallen o'er and obscured my sight 
 That yearns to follow thee." 
 
 A cry rang out in the desolate night: 
 " Must I call to thee in vain? 
 O love, I know the stars are bright, 
 And the moon is shedding her silver light, 
 Yet on me pours the rain." 
 
 A cry rang out in the desolate night: 
 "The watery mists upraise; 
 They surge around and enfold me quite 
 In their chilling gloom, through which her flight 
 In vain my soul essays." 
 
POEMS OF THE AFFECTIONS. 213 
 
 A cry rang out in the desolate night: 
 " O why repulse me so ? 
 I would kneel at thy feet, my heart's delight, 
 And kiss thy fingers so soft and white, 
 And bask in thy smile's warm glow." 
 
 A cry rang out in the desolate night: 
 " I would lean upon thy breast, 
 And play with the curls, whose waves of light 
 Encircle thy forehead broad and white, 
 My beautiful, my best." 
 
 A cry rang out in the desolate night: 
 " I look and long to see 
 The sun rise over yon mountain height, 
 When thou'lt stand revealed, my cloud-veiled sprite, 
 And float like a dream to me." 
 
 A song rings out in the morning bright: 
 " No more, no more alone! 
 Henceforth together we'll take our flight, 
 To the spheres of beauty, and love, and light, 
 My darling, we are one." 
 
Poems of Childhood. 
 
THE BABY. 
 
 GOD bless the baby! See how glad 
 She seems to have her hat put on. 
 One must in haste the ribbons tie, 
 She's so impatient to be gone. 
 
 Ay, bless her! Change to her is dear 
 As to her elders. Let her go 
 
 Where she may see the bright blue sky, 
 And bask within the sun's warm glow. 
 
 Take her among the lovely flowers; 
 
 They are as yet her fittest mates; 
 They understand her broken words, — 
 
 They and the angels at Heaven's gates. 
 
 See how she smiles! She seems to know 
 What we are saying. Baby, dear, 
 
 You've made the world a brighter place 
 For all of us since you came here. 
 
 You've shown us what we all have been 
 In the dim distance of the past, 
 
 And given a foretaste of the bliss 
 That surely will be ours at last, 
 
2l8 POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 
 
 When our earth wanderings are o'er, 
 With all their weariness and pain, 
 
 And to his family gathering 
 
 Our Father calls us home again. 
 
 TO A CHILD. 
 
 DEAR little child, come play with me, 
 And twine thy roses in my hair. 
 Would that I were as pure as thee, 
 Would that my mind like thine were free 
 From pain and care. 
 
 I kiss thy rosy palms, my dear. 
 
 See, angel lips have left before 
 Their impress in the dimples here, 
 But I — I've stained them with a tear. 
 
 I'll kiss no more. 
 
 Let me gaze in those truthful eyes, 
 Those pretty guileless orbs of thine, 
 
 Now opened wide in sweet surprise; 
 
 How clear the light of Paradise 
 Doth in them shine. 
 
POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 219 
 
 Life's rugged path I fain would smooth, 
 
 My darling, for thy tender feet, 
 And guard from sin thy artless youth, 
 And lead thee in the ways of truth 
 
 Thy God to meet. 
 
 But abler hands, I trust, than mine 
 
 Will bear thee onward, upward too, 
 And set thee high, where thou mayst shine, 
 And star-like flood with light divine 
 
 The ether blue. 
 
 GRACIE. 
 
 GRACIE underneath the table, 
 Gracie on the chair, 
 Gracie in her friends' embraces, 
 Gracie everywhere. 
 
 Pit-a-pat, from morn to even 
 
 Trip her little feet; 
 All who know her pet her, love her, 
 
 Gracie is so sweet. 
 
 Golden curls and dimpled shoulders, 
 
 Eyes of violet hue, 
 Rosy lips where streams of laughter 
 
 Hourly ripple through. 
 
POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Never did a fairer casket 
 
 Human soul confine, 
 Never did a brighter spirit 
 
 Through its earth robes shine. 
 
 In our partial pride we call her 
 Love-child of the sun, 
 
 Since her presence lights our pathway- 
 Happy-hearted one. 
 
 Darling Gracie, fine, transparent 
 
 Is the atmosphere 
 Thee surrounding. May it ever 
 
 Seem as pure and clear. 
 
 PLEASURES OF SNOW. 
 
 OUT in the glittering sunshine, 
 Out in the glorious snow, 
 Shouting, and singing, and dancing, 
 
 The merry young school children go. 
 Find in their innocent faces 
 
 Care or distrust if you can, 
 Those horrible creatures that only 
 Adhere to the stature of man. 
 
POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 221 
 
 Down the bank see them careering 
 
 On sleds painted crimson and green; 
 The toil of ascending the hill-top 
 
 Gives zest to the pleasure, I ween. 
 Anon, to the crystalline river 
 
 They speed them away in a trice, 
 And like birds on the bosom of ether 
 
 They skim o'er the slippery ice. 
 
 Now burning with true martial ardor 
 
 All eagerly join in the fight, 
 With heaps of white snowballs for bullets, 
 
 And eyes throwing lances of light. 
 What matter if bruised cheeks and noses 
 
 Result from the mimic affray, 
 'Tis a trial of 'spunk,' and no soldier 
 
 Would bear the ' white feather ' away. 
 
 The embryo architect quickly 
 
 A glistening structure uprears, 
 The sculptor essays his first statue 
 
 'Mid heartiest laughter and cheers. 
 You may sing as you list of old Winter, 
 
 But none save a school-boy can know 
 What exquisite, health-giving pleasures 
 
 Dissolve with the beautiful snow. 
 
22 2 POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 
 
 CHILD TREASURES. 
 
 I HAVE a play-house with dishes in it, 
 And chairs, and tables, and lots of things, 
 And a painted cage, and a dear brown linnet, 
 That hops all the day-time and merrily sings. 
 
 And I have a doll with hair all curly, 
 And eyes that open and shut like mine, 
 
 And I wake her up in the morning early, 
 
 And put her to bed when the night stars shine. 
 
 But I think the most of all of Beauty — 
 My little white kitten with velvet paws, 
 
 And I try to teach her a kitten's duty, 
 For cats like folks must obey the laws. 
 
 O, I am happy amid my treasures, 
 
 And mamma says, when she sees me play, 
 
 " This life has nothing like childhood's pleasures, 
 Enjoy them, my darling, while you may." 
 
POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 223 
 
 GOD'S CARE FOR THE LITTLE ONES. 
 
 KNOW ye, my dear ones, that all little children 
 Are God's peculiar care ? 
 That ever in their footsteps angels follow, 
 
 With love's devotion rare, 
 To lift them gently o'er the miry places, 
 
 And shelter their young heads 
 When terror, o'er the sunny sky above them, 
 His threatening storm-cloud spreads ? 
 
 They weary not, those kind celestial wardens, 
 
 For love renews their strength, 
 And Faith supports them on her arm unfailing, 
 
 And shows them that at length 
 Success shall crown their beautiful endeavors, 
 
 That those whom now they guard 
 Will sometime in fond gratitude return them 
 
 Devotion's rich reward. 
 
2 24 POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 
 
 TO A CHILD. 
 
 DEAR little rosy lips 
 Pouting so sadly; 
 Dear little childish heart 
 
 Aching so badly; 
 Bright eyes abrim with tears. 
 Oh! from your early years 
 I would all griefs and fears 
 Banish so gladly. 
 
 Look up, poor stricken one, 
 Light shines above thee; 
 
 Light from the tender smiles 
 Of those who love thee. 
 
 Now while it cheers and warms 
 
 Fly to their open arms, 
 
 Tell them what soul alarms 
 Painfully move thee. 
 
 Now hast thou calm become 
 
 At my entreating, 
 Now is thy lightened heart 
 
 Gratefully beating. 
 Oh! might our older hearts, 
 Pierced by affliction's darts, 
 Find all their aches and smarts 
 
 Even as fleeting. 
 
POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 225 
 
 THE PENITENT. 
 
 HOW I cried and cried last night, mamma, 
 When you carried the light away, 
 And refused to give me the good-night kiss 
 Because I'd been naughty all day. 
 
 My heart, oh, it felt so sore, mamma, 
 
 And I thought if I should die 
 Without your blessing how papa would frown 
 
 When I met him in the sky. 
 
 For he always frowned when I sinned, mamma, 
 When he used to live with us here, 
 
 Before God called him away to heaven 
 In the springtime of last year. 
 
 I sobbed myself to sleep, mamma, 
 
 And I dreamed such a strange, strange dream, 
 I thought I was standing alone at eve 
 
 By the side of a singing stream. 
 
 The nail heads in heaven's floor, mamma, 
 Gleamed bright as an angel's eyes; 
 
 But I liked not to be alone at night, 
 Alone with the wonderful skies. 
 
226 POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 
 
 The river's watery arms, mamma, 
 Closed round me where I stood, 
 
 And far as my eyes could reach it seemed 
 A boiling, angry flood. 
 
 The waves crawled up and up, mamma, 
 Till they reached my throbbing breast, 
 
 And I longed as I never longed before 
 For my own dear fireside nest. 
 
 But now there came to my aid, mamma, 
 
 A beautiful angel form, 
 And I woke to feel upon my lips 
 
 Your kisses, soft and warm. 
 
 My heart burst into flower, mamma, 
 
 Because of the joy it knew, 
 Like the rose in my garden, the other morn, 
 
 All beaded over with dew. 
 
 Stoop lower, and kiss me again, mamma; 
 
 There now, in your soft blue eyes, 
 I see a sunshine more bright than that 
 
 Which pours from the midday skies. 
 
 I'll do all I can to be good, mamma, 
 And try not to grieve you more, 
 
 For I feel how precious you are to me 
 As I never felt before. 
 
POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 227 
 
 WHERE ARE THE ROSES? 
 
 " IV /I A, where are the roses now?" 
 
 ] VI Asked a little, bright-eyed girl. 
 And the mother answered, smiling, 
 " Prisoned in their cells of pearl, 
 
 " Waiting for the messenger 
 
 June will send them some fair night, 
 Who with kindly hand shall lead them 
 Blushing to the morning light." 
 
 " And the violets where are they ? " 
 " Peeping through their window bars, 
 Wondering at the sun god's splendor 
 And the glory of the stars. 
 
 " Of all seasons of the year 
 
 Far most beautiful in spring, 
 When the charmed eye daily gazes 
 On some new and lovely thing 
 
 " Fresh from the Creator's hand, 
 Pure as His own sanctity; 
 They who most enjoy such blessings 
 Nearest to His soul must be." 
 
228 POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 
 
 GREETING TO CHRISTMAS. 
 
 GOOD morrow, old man, with the silvery hair, 
 And the merry eyes winking at sorrow and care 
 Till they smile in despite of their gloom. 
 
 Come in; we have long been preparing for you, 
 Who have never yet failed us — would all were as true 
 And mindful of promises given. 
 
 Sit down at our board; you're a welcome old guest, 
 And be sure, Father Christmas, we'll give you the best 
 That our cooks and our larders afford. 
 
 The old folk esteem you their worthiest friend, 
 And I see by their looks they're designing to spend 
 The day in gay gossip with you. 
 
 The children regard you with wonder and awe, 
 Intermixed with delight, for on them you bestow 
 Nice presents of sweetmeats and toys. 
 
 And we, who are climbing life's zenith, rejoice 
 At the sound of your footstep and blustering voice 
 When entering in at the door. 
 
POEMS OF CHILDHOOD. 229 
 
 For kindness and charity leap from your heart, 
 And with cheery good humor contribute their part 
 To make the time pleasant for all. 
 
 Now give us your blessing, old friend, and we'll pray 
 That all may enjoy at the close of life's day 
 A Christmas eternal above. 
 
 WRITE YOUR NAME. 
 
 ALOFT on the rock of Fame, brave boy, 
 High up on the rock of Fame, 
 Great Honor stands, 
 With outstretched hands, 
 And calls, " Come write your name,, brave boy, 
 Come hither and write your name." 
 
 Go up and write your name, brave boy, 
 Climb high and write your name 
 
 In letters free 
 
 That all may see 
 And strive to do the same, brave boy, 
 
 Strive hard to do the same. 
 
Patriotic Poems. 
 
RETURN OF THE GRAND ARMY. 
 
 THEY'RE coming back, our gallant boys, 
 Who left our side so long ago; 
 Left home and all its quiet joys 
 
 To face a vengeful, ruthless foe; 
 To suffer hardship and disease, 
 
 And misery in every form; 
 Now, led by Victory and Peace, 
 Our soldier boys are coming home. 
 
 Our own brave boys are coming home, 
 Our gallant lads are coming home; 
 Now, led by Victory and Peace, 
 Our soldier boys are coming home. 
 
 Let banners fly and cannons roar, 
 
 And beat the spirit-stirring drum; 
 Shout cheers on cheers the wide land o'er 
 
 To greet our heroes when they come. 
 And let our glad, triumphant songs 
 
 Rise proudly up to yon blue dome, 
 While echo still the strain prolongs, 
 Our soldier boys are coming home. 
 Our gallant lads are coming home, 
 Our noble ones are coming home, 
 While echo still the strain prolongs, 
 Our soldier boys are coming home. 
 
234 PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 And those for whom the Nation grieves, 
 
 The blessed dead, the slaughtered braves, 
 We'll strip the laurel of its leaves 
 
 To scatter o'er their hallowed graves. 
 We'll shed for them love's tenderest tears, 
 
 We'll write their names in memory's tome, 
 And sometime in the future years 
 
 They'll say of us, " They're coming home! 
 Our long lost friends are coming home, 
 Our darling ones are coming home! " 
 They'll say of us in future years, 
 " Our own dear friends are coming home." 
 
 HYMN FOR THANKSGIVING. 
 
 1865. 
 
 LIFT up your hearts in grateful praise, 
 O people of this favored land; 
 Praise ye the Lord, whose pitying hand 
 Gave Peace to crown the smiling days. 
 
 Praise ye the Lord, whose love made strong 
 Your courage in the past dread years, 
 When ye, in agony and tears, 
 
 Strove with the mighty demon — Wrong. 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 Praise ye the Lord; sing anthems sweet 
 To Him who freed the crouching slave, 
 And to our toiling armies gave 
 
 A victory lasting and complete. 
 
 Praise ye the Lord, for changeful spring, 
 Whose sunny skies and strengthening rains, 
 Hastened the grasses, fruits, and grains, 
 
 And flowers to early blossoming. 
 
 Praise ye the Lord, for summer heat 
 That ripened fast the waving corn, 
 Of which our staff of life is born, 
 
 The food we and our children eat. 
 
 Praise ye the Lord, for autumn's store, 
 Her plenteous harvests gathered in. 
 How have we so prevailed to win 
 
 His grace unworthy as we are ? 
 
 Praise Him! let thankful songs arise 
 From temple, cot, and palace dome, 
 Upswelling to our future home, 
 
 The sacred courts of Paradise. 
 
 235 
 
236 PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 ON THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR 1865. 
 
 O BRAVE old year of sixty-five, 
 Thy mighty heart is breaking now, 
 Its pulse is wearing faint and slow, 
 Few are the hours thou canst survive. 
 
 What hast thou done in thy long march 
 Through the wide realms of hoary Time ? 
 What wondrous deeds, what acts sublime 
 
 Hast painted on heaven's boundless arch? 
 
 For thus my fancy argueth, 
 
 Yon canopy of azure hue 
 
 Bears the impress of all we do 
 Of good or ill from birth to death. 
 
 And when the angel comes at eve 
 To set night's torches all aflame, 
 He reads, how often to our shame, 
 
 The last reports its record give. 
 
 What hast thou done? Let me recall. 
 
 O year, thou wast a gallant lad, 
 
 Not wholly good nor wholly bad; 
 In this how like unto us all. 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 237 
 
 Then, in thy early manhood fired 
 
 By noble ardor, thou didst swear 
 
 The chronicles of time should bear 
 Thy name respected and admired 
 
 As few names are; and thou didst raise 
 
 A monument to Liberty, 
 
 So grand, so strong, so vast, that we 
 Are lost in wonder while we. gaze. 
 
 It is no evanescent thing 
 
 That thou hast done for human rights; 
 
 Far up the Future's cloud-veiled heights 
 My spirit hears thy praises ring. 
 
 And bravely didst thou win and wear 
 
 The star-gemmed zone of Victory; 
 
 Now millions, by thy hand made free, 
 Embalm thy name in hallowed prayer. 
 
 I hear thy heir's impatient call; 
 
 He's waiting at the door. Alas! 
 
 Old things, however great, give place 
 Unto the new, however small. 
 
 Well, well, we'll welcome him untried; 
 
 But, though he may to honors grow, 
 
 He never can surpass, we know, 
 His famous sire — great Sixty-five. 
 
238 PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 THE PEACE JUBILEE. 
 
 ALL hail to the herald of happier times, 
 Whose lips chant the beautiful anthems of Peace. 
 Each soul in the Nation responsively chimes, 
 While praying that angry contentions may cease. 
 
 Let it roll in its strength, that vast ocean of sound. 
 
 To the North, and the South, and the East and the West. 
 Let Discord and War in its surges be drowned. 
 
 That the children of earth may find heavenly rest. 
 
 Hark! hark to the roar of the mighty refrain, 
 As it soars to the stars with ambitious desire 
 
 To meet, in his innermost temple again, 
 The spirit of music — its glorious sire. 
 
 All hail to the angel of harmony! hail 
 
 To the herald of peace and good will to mankind 
 
 Who partly upraiseth Heaven's mystical veil 
 To show us what grandeur existeth behind. 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 239 
 
 THE THIRTIETH OF MAY. 
 
 FATHERS, mothers, sisters, brothers, 
 Wives, and comrades of the braves, 
 Whose forsaken bodies moulder, 
 
 Day by day, in quiet graves, 
 Lay aside the busy present, 
 
 Give this day to tender thought 
 Of the time when your beloved 
 Gladness to the old home brought. 
 
 Then, a little step ascending 
 
 On the mount of memory, 
 Of the time when Sumter's cannon 
 
 Shook the land from sea to sea; 
 Of the time when War's loud clarion 
 
 Sounded through the atmosphere, 
 Calling from the heart of woman 
 
 Many an anguished sob and tear; 
 
 Of the time when trembling fingers 
 Interlaced in mute good-bye, 
 
 While the soul's sublime emotions 
 Flushed the cheek and fired the eye; 
 
240 
 
 PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 Of the time of weary waiting, 
 
 Dread suspense and torturing fears, 
 
 Through the trials and the horrors 
 Of those lingering cruel years; 
 
 Of the time, when, 'mid your labors 
 
 For their comfort, tidings came 
 That your noble ones had fallen 
 
 Bleeding at the feet of Fame; 
 Of the time, when to your vision 
 
 Hope's fair star seemed in eclipse, 
 While you pressed the parting kisses 
 
 On your martyrs' pallid lips. 
 
 Oh, be sure that while you scatter 
 
 Flowers upon your soldiers' graves, 
 Love will bear the beauteous token 
 
 Over Time's etherial waves 
 To their spirits, happy, grateful 
 
 That your hearts no change have known, 
 That you trust, with faith unswerving, 
 
 Soon again to clasp your own. 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 241 
 
 THE ORPHANS' APPEAL. 
 
 CAN you hear our childish voices, 
 Through the din of busy day, 
 Pleading to be rightly guided 
 
 On life's strange and devious way; 
 Pleading to be kindly sheltered 
 
 From the furious storms that sweep 
 Ruthlessly along the highways, 
 Where we lonely sit and weep ? 
 
 Those who pressed us to their bosoms 
 
 In the blest hours of the past, 
 Who in aid of Freedom perished, 
 
 Sank beneath war's fiery blast, 
 Were our fathers, and their white lips, 
 
 Stiffening, breathed this fervent prayer, 
 " O our country, make the loved ones 
 
 Whom we leave thy sacred care. 
 
 " By our many sacrifices, 
 
 By the blood we freely shed 
 In thy holy cause, we charge thee 
 Let our cherished ones be fed; 
 
242 PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 Fed and trained to follow ever 
 In the paths the just have trod." 
 
 Thus they prayed, our patriot fathers, 
 Ere their spirits soared to God. 
 
 We, their little sons and daughters, 
 
 Stand beside the outer gate 
 Of the fane of Wisdom. Open, 
 
 Wardens, ere it be too late. 
 Show us how to grow in knowledge, 
 
 Aid our willing feet to climb 
 Up the towering steeps of Virtue, 
 
 To the home of Truth sublime. 
 
 UNCLE SAM. 
 
 JULY 4TH, 1876. 
 
 A HUNDRED years ago, they say, 
 'Mid laboring throes of mortal pain, 
 Columbia's womb was rent in twain, 
 A hundred years ago to-day. 
 
 Then forth into the light there leapt 
 A lusty youth, a prodigy, 
 Who shook his fists at Tyranny 
 
 With baby anger while he crept. 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 243 
 
 He grew apace. The stalwart lad 
 
 Was fed on coarse but wholesome food, 
 And, though sometimes uncouth and rude, 
 
 His manners were not wholly bad. 
 
 An eager curiosity 
 
 Gave lustre to his fearless eye; 
 
 He liked to know the reason why, 
 And longed the hidden cause to see. 
 
 He was not a strife-loving elf, 
 
 Yet had his quarrels now and then, 
 And waged, as have the best of men, 
 
 His fiercest conflicts with himself. 
 
 Now to the gazing world this day 
 
 His century's work with pride he shows. 
 A hundred years to come — who knows 
 
 What wonders he may then display. 
 
244 PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 FOURTH OF JULY. 
 
 1876. 
 
 y I ^IS past; the golden day has fleeted by 
 
 1 Upborne by angels crowned with immortelles 
 And other days press after, with their freight 
 Of new achievements, wearing on their brows 
 The crownlet of fruition, glittering 
 With light reflected from that day of days. 
 
 Behold, now with renewed and strengthened zeal 
 The late rejoicing multitudes resume 
 Their customary labors, conscious that 
 On them and theirs a sacred charge is laid; 
 A charge to make the future realize 
 The ardent aspirations of the past. 
 
 Let poet-prophets now, by faith inspired, 
 
 Sing of the wondrous possibilities 
 
 Whose germs are quickening in the soil made warm 
 
 By patriotic fervor. By and by, 
 
 The sun of truth will draw those seedlings forth 
 
 When all may learn their beauty and their use. 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 245 
 
 THE CENTENNIAL YEAR. 
 
 PUT on your gayest, purest robes, 
 Ye flowers, to grace this glorious year, 
 And wreathe with smiles your fragrant lips 
 To let your inward joy appear. 
 
 For you have sprung from Freedom's soil 
 Ne'er yet by foot of tyrant trod, 
 
 With swinging censers to perfume 
 The altar of the living God. 
 
 O may the next centennial find 
 
 You still the wards of Liberty, 
 While through all lands the breezes waft 
 
 The glad rejoicings of the free. 
 
 The free from crime, the free from shame, 
 The free from dread Oppression's snare; 
 
 And, oh! may Truth and Honor sow 
 The seeds of Virtue everywhere. 
 
 Then may you crown, with fragrant wreaths, 
 A world more worthy far than now 
 
 Of your adornment; one that Love 
 Shall with celestial gifts endow. 
 
246 PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 And you, henceforth, perennial 
 In Flora's everlasting bowers 
 
 Shall bloom, while all that live unite 
 To sing your praise, ye lovely flowers. 
 
 COLUMBIA. 
 
 O HAPPY land! O favored land! 
 Columbia! Columbia! 
 Lift up thy forehead, broad and grand, 
 
 Columbia! Columbia! 
 About thee a devoted band, 
 Shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, 
 A living wall thy children stand, 
 Columbia! Columbia! 
 
 Two mighty shields protect thy breast, 
 
 Columbia! Columbia! 
 An ocean east, an ocean west, 
 
 Columbia! Columbia! 
 Thy lap is filled with fruits the best 
 That nature yields; thy form is dressed 
 In garments beautiful and chaste, 
 
 Columbia! Columbia! 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 247 
 
 The treasures of the earth are thine, 
 
 Columbia! Columbia! 
 The teeming wealth of rock and mine, 
 
 Columbia! Columbia! 
 But more than all this joy is thine, 
 The blessings of a power benign, 
 The guidance of a hand divine, 
 
 Columbia! Columbia! 
 
 THE PATRIOTS' HYMN. 
 
 OUR country, on thine altar 
 A myriad hearts are laid, 
 That proudly scorned to falter 
 
 When Freedom claimed their aid. 
 Would we their fadeless laurels share, 
 Their sacred mantles we must wear, 
 Like them to do, like them to dare; 
 Faithful forever 
 O noble land of liberty! 
 Thy patriot sons shall keep thee free; 
 The ties that bind their love to thee 
 Nothing can sever. 
 
 No tyrants chains enslave thee, 
 
 O land, of lands the pride, 
 To us our fathers gave thee 
 
 Unfettered when they died. 
 
248 PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 Then, by our children's rightful claim, 
 Still to preserve thy glorious name 
 Untarnished on the crest of Fame 
 Will we endeavor. 
 O noble land of liberty, etc. 
 
 Dear land of love and beauty, 
 The thought of thee inspires 
 
 Each one to do his duty 
 With zeal that never tires. 
 
 Without regret we sacrifice 
 
 For thy dear sake life's tenderest ties; 
 
 Thou call'st, and Freedom's host denies 
 Thee succour, never. 
 O noble land of Liberty, etc. 
 
 Great God, with hearts united 
 
 We praise and worship Thee, 
 Whose smile has ever lighted 
 
 The footsteps of the Free. 
 O kindest Friend! O truest Guide! 
 Still to Thy care do we confide 
 Our starry Flag, Columbia's pride, 
 Guard it forever. 
 
 O noble land of liberty! 
 
 Thy patriot sons shall keep three free; 
 
 The ties that bind their love to thee 
 Nothing can sever. 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 249 
 
 THE DYING FLAG BEARER. 
 
 COMRADE, do not leave me yet, 
 But kneel down and press your hand 
 On the wound that, jet by jet, 
 
 Flings my life blood on the sand. 
 Press it tighter; fain I'd leave 
 
 In your care my last request; 
 When a furlough you receive 
 Seek the friends I love the best. 
 
 Tell them gently how I died, 
 
 While their trembling hands you clasp, 
 How the shot that pierced my side 
 
 Tore our banner from my grasp. 
 My young sister helped to make 
 
 That fair flag three years ago, 
 And eight times, for Freedom's sake, 
 
 It and I have faced the foe. 
 
 Listen now! When I am dead, 
 That I may untroubled rest, 
 
 Lay the stars beneath my head, 
 And the stripes upon my breast. 
 
250 PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 Wrap them closely round my heart, 
 That so oft with pride has thrilled 
 
 When like tongues of flame they'd dart 
 As the breeze their folds outfilled. 
 
 O be faithful unto me! 
 
 See that all I wish is done, 
 So that you may honored be 
 
 When my sands of life are run. 
 Take your hand from off my breast, 
 
 Bear my body from the field; 
 God be thanked! now cometh rest; 
 
 Unto Him my soul I yield. 
 
Poems of the Seasons. 
 
NEW YEAR'S DAY. 
 
 A HAPPY New Year! Both far and near 
 Ringeth the greeting, so loud and clear, 
 While hearts are lightly bounding. 
 Trouble is flung to the winds away, 
 And the merry cry, " 'Tis New Year's Day! " 
 Over the land is sounding. 
 
 And grim old care must awhile forbear, 
 His plaints are wasted on empty air, 
 
 For we've no time for sorrow. 
 And all repining and discontent, 
 And other plagues which on earih are sent, 
 
 We'll shut out till to-morrow. 
 
 The day is begun with mirth and fun; 
 Joy reigns triumphant till set of sun, 
 
 Proud with the guests to mingle. 
 And when eve cometh what happiness 
 For all to gather around and bless 
 
 The cheerful household ingle. 
 
254 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 THE PASSAGE OF WINTER 
 
 SWIFT through the vale of the Present Lowing 
 Into the Past the Winter is going, 
 Bearing away, away, away, 
 Clustered fruits from the tree of our beii.g, 
 Grown in the smile of the great all-seeing 
 God of the night, Lord of the day, 
 
 Into the Past the Winter is gliding, 
 Singing, " O man there is no abiding 
 
 Place for me, — for me or thee! 
 Change is the ruler of earth, and ever 
 He laughs to scorn thy weak endeavor 
 
 To anchor thy ship in life's sounding sea." 
 
 Out from the Present, with steady motion, 
 The Winter flows to the mystic ocean, 
 
 The wondrous Past, so vague, so vast, 
 Whose muffled dash on the rocks of Time 
 Makes a requiem solemn, a dirge sublime 
 
 O'er the dead hopes into its bosom cast. 
 
POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 255 
 
 AWAKE, O EARTH. 
 
 WAKE, O sleeping earth, awake! 
 Lay aside thy robe of snow, 
 Don thy emerald mantle now, 
 We adjure thee for the sake 
 Of the buds that fain would blow; 
 
 Of the many lovely things 
 
 That thy summoning voice await 
 To attend upon thy state. 
 
 Lo! they wave impatient wings 
 By Anticipation's gate. 
 
 Sleeping earth, awake! arise! 
 
 Shake the torper from thy heart; 
 
 Tear inaction's bands apart; 
 Warm with smiles the frigid skies; 
 
 Force harsh Winter to depart. 
 
 Peace, and bliss, and light, and love, 
 Then shall crown the happy hours 
 With gay wreathes of fragrant flowers, 
 
 While life's manna from above 
 Softly falls in quickening showers. 
 
256 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 WILL SHE NEVER COME? 
 
 WILL she never, never come ? 
 The beauteous maiden robed in green, 
 Whose face is all aglow with smiles, 
 Whose heart is full of witching wiles, 
 The dearest maiden e'er was seen, 
 Will she never, never come ? 
 
 How impatiently we wait 
 
 To hear again her gladsome voice, 
 
 Her merry laugh, her songs of cheer; 
 
 With watchful eye, and listening ear, 
 
 For her in whom all things rejoice, 
 
 How impatiently we wait! 
 
 Will she never, never come ? 
 Ah! yes; amid the icy showers, 
 
 The howling winds, the drifting snow, 
 We hear a whisper, sweet and low; 
 She comes, the maiden crowned with flowers, 
 Spring, the blessed maiden, comes! 
 
POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 257 
 
 BREAK, O WAVES! 
 
 BREAK, O waves, in dimpled smiles, 
 Leap and catch the silvery rain, 
 Bringing warmth from southern isles. 
 Spring has come to us again, 
 Melting every icy chain 
 From thy limbs, O azure lake; 
 
 Warble now thy wonted strain 
 Softly for the Spring's dear sake. 
 
 Meadows, deck your brows with flowers; 
 
 Woodlands, don your mantles green; 
 Hasten with the laughing hours 
 
 To adorn your virgin queen; 
 
 Fairer none were ever seen, 
 More beloved none well could be; 
 
 Balmy airs and skies serene 
 Brings she, happy land, to thee. 
 
 Fling around your odors sweet, 
 
 Blossoming bough and budding spray; 
 Winged bards, again repeat 
 
 All your love songs to the day. 
 
 Come, O merry-hearted May, 
 Deck our gardens and our groves, 
 
 Change our country's cloak of gray 
 For the emerald robe she loves. 
 
258 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 ACROSTIC. 
 
 TAKE again thy tuneful lyre, 
 Happy-souled, delightful May, 
 Echo bids thee sing and play. 
 
 'Mong the lonely hills she waits, 
 O, how gladly waits for thee! 
 Notes of brook, and bird, and bee, 
 Tones of joy are flowing free, 
 Harmony unbars her gates. 
 
 Open on our raptured sight 
 Fairy landscapes new and bright. 
 
 Matchless, in thy fresh array, 
 Art thou, charming month of May, 
 Youth and love are thine alway. 
 
POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 259 
 
 THE MAY. 
 
 THE earth lay barren, and cold, and gray, 
 The clouds enclosed it like prison walls, 
 When the beautiful, generous fairy May 
 Came forth from her hidden elfin halls. 
 
 She wept when she gazed on the lifeless scene, 
 And her tears in glittering streamlets ran, 
 
 And all through the burning summer-time 
 They strengthened the fainting heart of man. 
 
 But Hope knelt by her and kissed her eyes, 
 Till out of their depths leapt joyous smiles, 
 
 And laughter sounded instead of sighs 
 In the wakening forest's echoing aisles. 
 
 The May shook lightly her curls of gold, 
 And the air was filled with an odor sweet, 
 
 While flowers sprang forth with enchanted life 
 'Neath the pressure warm of her tiny feet. 
 
 She breathed on the trees, so brown and bare, 
 And velvet leaves, of a pale green hue, 
 
 Beaded the branches. Oh! fresh and fair 
 As Eden the world at her bidding grew. 
 
260 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 She called the birds from the sun-loved South, 
 And they fluttered around her with songs of praise, 
 
 Till Silence was drowned in the melody 
 That deluged the land in those happy days. 
 
 MAY TIME. 
 
 THE robins are mad with delight, my friend, 
 For the beautiful Queen of May, 
 With wreaths of flowers on her lily brow, 
 Has entered our land to-day. 
 
 The cattle are pictures of calm content, 
 
 As they browse the tender grass, 
 And all things living in peace enjoy 
 
 The moments as they pass. 
 
 The leaves are astir in the swelling buds, 
 
 And a mystery broods around, 
 For new creations are soon to raise 
 
 Their forms from the fertile ground. 
 
 Dame Nature, busy as busy can be, 
 
 Toils cheerfully night and day, 
 For the harvest will come to naught, she says, 
 
 If the seed-time be spent in play. 
 
POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 261 
 
 Her words are wise, as experience proves, 
 
 Let us grave them on memory; 
 The lesson they teach may be fraught with good 
 
 For the future to you and me. 
 
 Like her let us work in life's joyous Spring, 
 
 That, when Autumn dons her crown, 
 The fields we have tended may gladden all eyes 
 
 With their harvest full and brown. 
 
 JUNE. 
 
 SHE comes, the glory of the year; 
 Let all to welcome her arise 
 Whose soul-love warms our atmosphere, 
 Whose smile's reflected in our skies. 
 
 Arise to greet her, lovely flowers, 
 Pour out your incense at her feet, 
 
 And, minstrels of the leafy bowers, 
 Sing to her anthems grand and sweet. 
 
 O Sun, enfold our Summer Queen 
 In garments woven of thy beams, 
 
 And deck with gems her brow serene 
 Ye fountains gay, and sportive streams. 
 
 Zoned with the rainbow, lo! she comes, 
 The Graces following in her train; 
 
 Admit her to your darkened homes, 
 O mourners, and be glad again. 
 
262 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 THE ADVENT OF SUMMER. 
 
 JUNE, with trailing robe of splendor, 
 All embroidered o'er with roses, 
 Leads in summer, flushed and eager. 
 
 And the land makes haste to greet them, 
 Scatters at their feet libations 
 From the teeming horn of plenty. 
 
 Overhead the sky, cerulian, 
 Lightly veiled in silken tissue, 
 Showers soft kisses on the flowerets. 
 
 Countless streams meander, singing 
 Of the beauties they encounter 
 In the woods and open meadows. 
 
 Pebbles gleam among their shallows, 
 Tiny fish dart hither, thither, 
 Sporting in the flashing ripples. 
 
 Faint with sweetness is the sunshine; 
 Tremulous with fairy music 
 Is the atmosphere about us. 
 
 But all other sounds outsoaring 
 
 Swells to Heaven earth's grateful chorus — 
 
 Praise the Giver! praise the Giver! 
 
POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 263 
 
 FAREWELL TO JUNE. 
 
 Farewell, dear June, 
 Thou bright-eyed daughter of the year, 
 We may not keep thee longer here. 
 Thy mission done, thou must away, 
 Nor can our prayers thy flight delay; 
 
 Farewell, dear June. 
 
 Warm-hearted June, 
 Thou hast poured blessings on our land; 
 The genial showers, the breezes bland, 
 The cheering sunbeams luring forth 
 The tender herbage from the earth, 
 
 Attest it, June. 
 
 Go, queenly June! 
 But leave with us thy crown of roses, 
 And all the fragrance it encloses; 
 While revelling in its sweetness, we 
 Will sacred hold thy memory, 
 
 O peerless June! 
 
264 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 SEPTEMBER. 
 
 FIRST of autumn's rustic train 
 Comes September, walking slowly- 
 Through her fields of garnered grain. 
 Peaceful is her brow, and holy 
 The expression of her eyes 
 Lifted to the tranquil skies. 
 
 With a blessing-laden hand 
 Visits she each lowly dwelling 
 Of the toilers of the land. 
 Countless songs of gladness swelling 
 Loud proclaim their gratitude 
 For their portion of life's food. 
 
 When her gifts are all bestowed, 
 And completed is her mission, 
 Floats she like some downy cloud 
 'Yond the range of mortal vision. 
 Fleets forever from our sight, 
 Shrouded in the veil of night. 
 
POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 265 
 
 OCTOBER. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL month, with thy pensive eyes 
 Gazing far up in the misty skies, 
 Month of the gorgeous tinted leaves; 
 Month of the gathered golden sheaves; 
 Month of plenty, and peace, and mirth, 
 Gladly we welcome thee back to earth, 
 
 October! 
 
 Beautiful month, whose arms enfold 
 The summer's heat, and the winter's cold, 
 Blended together in union sweet. 
 Health walks in the track of thy glancing feet; 
 Cool and inspiriting grows the air 
 That tosses the locks of thy chestnut hair, 
 
 October! 
 
 Beautiful month of refined desires, 
 Of the sun-blest days and the evening fires; 
 Month of reflection and solemn prayer, 
 While the trees each hour grow brown and bare, 
 Reminding us still of that nearing day 
 When like thee from earth we must pass away, 
 
 October! 
 
266 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 NOVEMBER. 
 
 NOVEMBER, few lips sing thy praise, 
 Few voices hail thy coming feet; 
 Men frown upon thy gloomy days, 
 Nor care thy chilling form to meet. 
 
 And yet thou bring'st the cheerful fires, 
 The social evenings, home's best charm; 
 And oft thy mournful mien inspires 
 Reflection, and compassion warm. 
 
 Thou bid'st us from our world dreams turn 
 To muse upon our future fate, 
 All thoughts and deeds unworthy spurn, 
 And seek high honor's restful state. 
 
 November, though with downcast eyes 
 Thou movest slowly, sadly by, 
 Our grateful memories long shall prize 
 The lessons thou hast taught — good-bye. 
 
POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 267 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 AUTUMN walks her yearly rounds; 
 Listen to her plaintive song, 
 Echoing the hills among, 
 Drearily it sounds. 
 
 And her breath falls damp and chill 
 On the herbage, summer-grown; 
 
 Soon 'tis changed from green to brown 
 By her potent will. 
 
 Now the trees with homage true, 
 Cast their mantles 'neath her feet; 
 
 Grey and bare their gaunt forms meet 
 Our deploring view. 
 
 Pauses she where yet delay 
 
 Flora's lovely sweet-breathed flowers, 
 And she bids the passing hours 
 
 Bear them all away. 
 
 Hark! she says, in accents cold, 
 " Count me not your enemy, 
 For there cometh after me 
 One more fierce and bold. 
 
268 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 "Did I not in time prepare 
 
 And forewarn ye, sons of earth, 
 Winter would, in place of mirth, 
 Bring ye dark despair. 
 
 "Count me not your enemy; 
 I but for a little time 
 Hide the treasures of your clime 
 From Death's searching eye. 
 
 "When dark Winter's reign is o'er 
 Spring will bring you back again 
 All the beauties I have ta'en 
 With a thousand more." 
 
POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 269 
 
 WINTER'S WOOING. 
 
 WINTER comes to claim his bride; 
 He has had a stormy wooing, 
 Since fair Autumn's lofty pride 
 
 Could not brook his harsh subduing; 
 Still she, frowning, answered, Nay, 
 To his pleading, day by day. 
 
 Now, however, she is won, 
 
 He has forced her to surrender; 
 
 And the bridal hour comes soon, 
 
 And the bridesmaid, cold December. 
 
 Autumn, with a yielding sigh, 
 
 Bids her maiden dreams good-bye. 
 
270 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 WINTER'S APPROACH. 
 
 HE is coming, hoary Winter; 
 So his heralds loud proclaim, 
 And the bird's fly off affrighted 
 At the mention of his name; 
 And the meek flowers, gently sighing, 
 Hide their heads beneath the mold, 
 Praying, " Keep us in thy bosom, 
 Mother Nature, from the cold." 
 
 He is coming, hoary Winter, 
 
 And the trees, a-chill with fear, 
 Drop their vesture and grow torpid 
 
 When his heavy tread they hear; 
 And above his head the tempests 
 
 Rend the clouds to shreds in wrath, 
 While grim-visaged Desolation 
 
 Follows closely on his path. 
 
 He is coming, hoary Winter, 
 
 Soon o'er river, lake and rill 
 He will breathe the freezing fiat, 
 " Be ye mute, and be ye still." 
 And they'll hear, and they'll obey him, 
 
 And their laughing waves will cease 
 To be whirled about at random 
 By the mischief-loving breeze. 
 
POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 27 1 
 
 He is coming, hoary Winter; 
 
 Soon he'll knock at every door, 
 And he'll enter uninvited 
 
 In the cabins of the poor; 
 And like some imperious despot, 
 
 Though they humbly pray and plead, 
 He will seize upon their earnings, 
 
 All regardless of their need. 
 
 He is coming, hoary winter, 
 
 And his heart is icy cold; 
 And the helpless ones will tremble 
 
 When his stern face they behold; 
 For he knows no tender mercy, 
 
 From his eyes no tear-drop starts, 
 But his cruel feet go crashing, 
 
 Crashing over human hearts. 
 
 He is coming, hoary Winter; 
 
 Oh prepare, prepare, prepare! 
 All ye favored ones of fortune 
 
 Let the poor your bounty share. 
 Aid them in their arduous struggle 
 
 With the monster at the gate; 
 Aid them nobly, aid them quickly, 
 
 Let not succor come too late. 
 
 He is coming, hoary Winter; 
 
 Then let Charity speed forth 
 Through the highways and the by-ways 
 
 East and west, and south and north. 
 
272 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 Go with her, free-handed Plenty, 
 Smiling Hope and gentle Peace; 
 
 They who send you, they who meet you, 
 Shall of joy find much increase. 
 
 THE WINTER WIND. 
 
 IT is the Winter Wind 
 Tossing the leafless boughs about, 
 Stifling the school-boy's lusty shout, 
 Flinging the snow in the traveler's face, 
 Quickening his good steed's easy pace. 
 
 It is the Winter Wind 
 Dashing the unlatched gate aside, 
 Reaching the house with a mighty stride, 
 Rattling the windows, shaking the doors, 
 Taunting the fire till it raves and roars. 
 
 It is the Winter Wind 
 
 Rustling the silks of the haughty dame, 
 
 Deepening her soft cheek's painted flame, 
 
 Tangling her ringlets saucily, 
 
 Making a mock of her dignity. 
 
 It is the Winter Wind 
 
 Piercing the tenement's unsound walls, 
 
 Smiting the famished babe that crawls 
 
 O'er the carpetless floor from its mother's bed,- 
 
 Its mother, who lies there stark and dead. 
 
POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 273 
 
 The Winter's .eveling wind 
 
 Serves all alike in its pitiless raids, 
 
 Makes no distinction 'twixt classes or grades, 
 
 Goes where it lists on the land or the seas, 
 
 Leaps o'er all barriers, defies all decrees 
 
 Of monarch or law-maker. Nothing we find 
 
 So headstrong, so reckless, so fierce as the wind. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS TOAST. 
 
 A MERRY Christmas, one and all, and let the wish go 
 round, 
 That every board may be to-day as plentifully crowned 
 As this at which we now are met, a happy, social band, 
 To taste the savory offerings of our God-favored land. 
 Hence! Care and Sorrow, let us all be joyous while we may, 
 Who knows, my friends, where we shall greet the next fair 
 Christmas Day. 
 
 Bright be the future, smooth the path our footsteps must 
 
 pursue, 
 And may the star of Hope still shine unclouded to our 
 
 view. 
 Long live dear Friendship, earth's best gem, and Love, the 
 
 passion flower; 
 Oh! may it find in every heart a warm and sheltering bower. 
 Hence! Care and Sorrow, let us all be joyous while we may, 
 Who knows, my friends, where we shall greet the next fair 
 
 Christmas Day. 
 
274 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 THE FAREWELL. 
 
 AND must it be, Old Year, 
 That 'neath the splendor of the stars, 
 Down piercing through night's cloudy bars, 
 You take your final leave 
 Of hearts that sorely grieve 
 To lose a friend they hold so dear 
 As you, Old Year? 
 
 Can you recall, Old Year, 
 
 How we did run to welcome you 
 
 With acclamations, when we knew 
 
 Your feet were at the door ? 
 
 We shouted, o'er and o'er, 
 Come in! come in, and join our cheer, 
 O glad New Year! 
 
 Twelve months since then, Old Year, 
 Have glided swiftly by, and now 
 The Winter's towering drifts of snow, 
 
 So pure, from heaven sent, 
 
 A noble monument 
 And spotless, will for you uprear, 
 O brave Old Year! 
 
POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, Old Year; 
 
 In yonder tower a solemn bell 
 
 Is measuring out your funeral knell; 
 
 The last beat of your heart 
 
 Must with the sound depart. 
 'Tis done. We'll hold your memory dear, 
 O dead Old Year. 
 
 275 
 
 A DIRGE FOR THE OLD YEAR. 
 
 TOLL, toll, O solemn bell! 
 Toll, toll the funeral knell 
 Of the Old Year. 
 'Neath his white shroud he lies, 
 And the wind moans and sighs 
 Over his bier. 
 
 Tell of his virtues rare, 
 Let the swift breeze declare 
 
 Them far and wide; 
 Till every earthly clime 
 Joins in a praiseful chime 
 
 For him who died. 
 
276 POEMS OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 Bury his errors deep, 
 
 In the grave let them sleep 
 
 Lower than he. 
 Charity's mantle dear, 
 Wet with compassion's tear, 
 
 Their covering be. 
 
 What he has done of good 
 Make it the wholesome food 
 
 Of future time, 
 That his successors may, 
 Strengthened by it, essay 
 
 Higher to climb. 
 
 List! list! the solemn bell 
 Tolleth the funeral knell 
 
 Of the Old Year. 
 Wintry winds moan and sigh, 
 Frozen tears from the sky 
 
 Fall on his bier. 
 
Lyrical Pieces. 
 
O BEAUTEOUS MOON! 
 
 O BEAUTEOUS moon, whose silvery veil 
 Enfolds the form of her I love, 
 As, listening to the nightingale, 
 She stands without yon leafy grove, 
 Low whisper, for my trembling tongue 
 The olden tale may not repeat, 
 How my impassioned soul has flung 
 Its royal scepter at her feet. 
 
 O tender moon! O beauteous moon! 
 Let thy persuasive influence move 
 My darling one to yield me soon 
 The precious guerdon of her love. 
 
 Pure is thy smile, thou virgin moon, 
 But purer are my loved one's dreams, 
 When, hand in hand with rosy June, 
 She wanders by the jeweled streams, 
 Whose wavelets string their liquid gems, 
 That rival not her lustrous eyes, 
 To form befitting diadems 
 For her, the daughter of the skies. 
 
 O tender moon! O beauteous moon! 
 Let thy persuasive influence move 
 My darling one to yield me soon 
 The precious guerdon of her love. 
 
280 LYRICAL PIECES. 
 
 EVENING CHARMS. 
 
 HEAR the vesper music 
 Melting through the twilight, 
 Whose gray shadows lengthen 
 O'er day's fainting light; 
 Slowly glide the zephyrs, 
 For their wings are laden 
 With the many sweet-voiced 
 Heralds of the night. 
 
 Sacred are these moments, 
 For, with fair brow drooping, 
 Beautiful and tearful, 
 Nature bows in prayer; 
 And her adoration, 
 Rising to the Father, 
 Fills with precious incense 
 All the summer air. 
 
 Lo! the night, advancing, 
 Wears the silver crescent 
 High upon her forehead, 
 O'er her crown of stars. 
 Sweet content is watching 
 Earth as soft she slumbers, 
 And no vengeful storm-cloud 
 Beauty's picture mars 
 
LYRICAL PIECES. 281 
 
 Oh! when spreads around us 
 
 Such sublime creations, 
 
 And our trammeled vision 
 
 Can their glories see, 
 
 Fearing, doubting mortals, 
 
 Let this blest thought cheer you, — 
 
 When earth is so honored, 
 
 What must heaven be! 
 
 TO A ROSE. 
 
 TENDER rose, in beauty blooming, 
 Blushing 'neath my loving kiss, 
 Art thou with desire consuming 
 For a better life than this ? 
 Higher, higher, dost aspire ? 
 Burns thy ardent soul with fire, 
 E'en like hers who questions thee ? 
 Lovely rose, oh, answer me! 
 
 Crowned queen of summer flowers, 
 
 Ah! how brief — how brief thy stay, 
 Though the sunbeams, dew and showers 
 Fain would woo thee to delay. 
 Thou still higher dosi aspire; 
 Radiant from its funeral pyre 
 Mounts thy spirit to love's goal, 
 Fate so blest be thine, my soul! 
 
282 LYRICAL PIECES. 
 
 THE FIRST SNOW. 
 
 SOFTLY the snow is falling, 
 Light as an angel's breath, 
 Hiding earth's pulseless bosom 
 
 'Neath the white shroud of death. 
 Like to a grief-struck mourner 
 
 Droopeth the cloud-veiled sky, 
 While the sad winds are grieving 
 That one so fair should die. 
 
 List! for a gentle whisper 
 
 Comes from the star-like flakes, 
 Saying, "Upon night's darkness 
 
 A morning ever breaks. 
 Unto the gloomy winter 
 
 A smiling spring succeeds; 
 Then mourn not. Earth is taking 
 
 But the calm rest she needs. 
 
 Soon will she wake in beauty, 
 
 Strengthened, revived renewed, 
 Crowned with her own sweet flowerets, 
 
 With brighter charms endued. 
 So shall it be with mortals, 
 
 Dark days can last not long; 
 Sorrow shall change to gladness, 
 
 And tears merge into song." 
 
LYRICAL PIECES. 283 
 
 BEAUTIFUL NORAH. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL Norah, 
 Soft bells are ringing, 
 Bright birds are singing 
 How I adore you; 
 Breezes are murmuring, 
 Flowerets are whispering, 
 Hear and believe them, 
 Bride of my soul. 
 For they have heard me 
 Bitterly sighing, 
 When lay my crushed hopes 
 Painfully dying; 
 Kindly they tendered 
 Sweet consolation, 
 O'er my wild passion 
 Wielding control. 
 
 As flee night's shadows 
 From earth's fringed meadows 
 At the first warning 
 Of the fair morning, 
 So fled the storm-clouds 
 Surging around me, 
 At thy commanding 
 Vanished they all. 
 
284 LYRICAL PIECES. 
 
 Soon as thy dark eyes 
 Looked on me fondly, 
 And breathed thy dear lips, 
 "I love thee only," 
 Robed in new splendor, 
 Happy and tender, 
 There came my lost peace 
 Back at my call. 
 
 FLY, O WINTER. 
 
 FLY, O Winter, fly away! 
 Haste thee to thine arctic home. 
 In our land no longer stay, 
 Let the lovely spingtime come. 
 
 She is all bestrewn with flowers, 
 
 Thou art clad in icy mail; 
 She doth sing of birds and bowers, 
 
 Thou of snow and blustering gale. 
 
 She brings hope and joy to all, 
 Thou to many gloom and fear; 
 
 Thee, when going, none recall, 
 Her we pray to linger near. 
 
 Haste, O Winter, haste away 
 To thy frozen arctic home; 
 
 For a brighter form make way, 
 Let the genial springtime come. 
 
LYRICAL PIECES. 285 
 
 THE BRIDEGROOM'S APPROACH. 
 
 AWAKE from thy slumbers, O beautiful world, 
 The Bridegroom is coming, to meet him arise. 
 He hastens with pleasure to claim his fair treasure 
 And bear her away to his home in the skies. 
 
 Awake from thy slumbers, O beautiful world, 
 The Bridegroom is coming with music and song; 
 
 The love-god has sent him, and cheerfully lent him 
 His soft snowy pinions to speed him along. 
 
 Awake from thy slumbers, O beautiful world, 
 The Bridegroom is coming, his presence is near; 
 
 Long, hard did he labor, proud one, for thy favor, 
 But now the blest hour of fruition is here. 
 
 Awake from thy slumbers, O beautiful world, 
 The Bridegroom is coming, he calleth thee now. 
 
 So eager to meet thee, so eager to greet thee, 
 And fix Hymen's seal for all time on thy brow. 
 
 Awake from thy slumbers, O beautiful world, 
 
 The Bridegroom is coming, the crown of thy youth. 
 
 His name lives in story; in letters of glory 
 'Tis written, behold, it is Truth! it is Truth! 
 
2 86 LYRICAL PIECES. 
 
 O 
 
 CAPTURED. 
 
 NE beauteous morning, 
 Love, without warning, 
 
 Laden with flowers, 
 
 From Flora's bowers, 
 Came to my darling, my beautiful May. 
 
 Without suspicion, 
 
 As to his mission, 
 
 Pleased she received him, 
 
 Trusted, believed him, 
 Listened enraptured to all he could say. 
 
 Sunshine and shadow 
 Flecked the green meadow 
 Where she went playing, 
 Thoughtlessly straying 
 
 Near to the musical, fay-haunted grove. 
 Here slumber seized her; 
 When he released her, 
 Red roses crowned her, 
 Myrtle vines bound her 
 
 Prisoner to Hymen, the ally of Love, 
 
LYRICAL PIECES. 287 
 
 FLY PRETTY BIRD. 
 
 FLY, pretty bird, to her I love, 
 And sing the song I dare not sing; 
 Perchance thy strains her soul will move, 
 Thou lovely messenger of Spring. 
 Fly, pretty bird. 
 
 Perchance thy music wild and sweet 
 Will touch her heart, and she will sigh, 
 
 And think of him, who at her feet 
 Laid all his hopes in hours gone by. 
 Fly, pretty bird. 
 
 Oh! if she listens to thy song, 
 
 And of my welfare questions thee, 
 
 I charge thee, bird, delay not long, 
 But with the tidings haste to me. 
 Fly, pretty bird. 
 
 But if she coldly turns away, 
 
 And scorns thy wooing and my pain, 
 
 Ah then! ah then! dear bird, I pray 
 
 Come never back to me again. 
 
 Fly, pretty bird. 
 
LYRICAL PIECES. 
 
 ENOCH ARDEN UNDER THE YE^ 
 TREE. 
 
 PICTURE of happiness, 
 Source of my deep distress, 
 
 Fainting I gaze on thy beauty divine. 
 Nought is now left for me, 
 But to fly far from thee, 
 
 Heaven of bliss that may no more be mine. 
 Nevermore, nevermore, 
 On life's storm beaten shore, 
 
 Will my torn spirit, so weary, find rest. 
 Death, hear my plaintive cry, 
 Soon let this wrecked form lie, 
 
 Under the sod that her dear feet have pressed. 
 
 Oft, on that lonely isle, 
 
 Hope did the time beguile 
 With her bright limnings of rescue and home. 
 
 Rescue God granted me, 
 
 But no home waits for me, 
 Save that concealed by yon star-spangled dome. 
 
 Nevermore, nevermore, etc. 
 
LYRICAL PIECES. 289 
 
 Wife, though another breast 
 
 Pillows thy nightly rest, 
 Bless thee, oh, bless thee, thou once wast mine own! 
 
 Children — oh, agony — 
 
 Loving Christ, strengthen me, 
 I must go from them unseen and unknown. 
 
 Nevermore, nevermore, etc. 
 
 Faltering limbs, fail me not, 
 
 Bear me far from this spot 
 Ere my great sorrow breaks in on their mirth. 
 
 Dear ones, again farewell, 
 
 Long may peace with you dwell, 
 Long may joy gladden your love-lighted hearth. 
 
 Nevermore, nevermore, etc. 
 
 SUMMER EVENING. 
 
 TENDERLY the moon is beaming, 
 Flooding earth in waves of light; 
 Peacefully the world is dreaming 
 Varied dreams of bliss to-night. 
 Out upon the placid river 
 
 Floats a vapor, white and chill, 
 And the air is all a-quiver 
 
 With the wild cry, whip-poor-will! 
 
29O LYRICAL PIECES. 
 
 Starry clusters sing in chorus 
 
 Songs our souls alone can hear, 
 While a holy calm steals o'er us. 
 
 And an awe that is not fear. 
 For we trust in Him who gave us 
 
 All the beautiful in life; 
 Soon His Summer eve will save us 
 
 From our earthly pain and strife. 
 
 SONG OF PROGRESS. 
 
 I COME! I come to free the world 
 From sin and pain and gloomy sorrow. 
 My banner's to the breeze unfurled, 
 I'll work to-day, I'll rest tomorrow. 
 I come! I come! Ho! clear the way; 
 For Progress cannot brook delay. 
 
 To-day is God's, and yours, and mine; 
 
 To-morrow is a cheat — remember. 
 Let us be moving; light divine 
 
 Now flashes from life's glowing ember. 
 I come! I come! Ho! clear the way; 
 For Progress cannot brook delay. 
 
LYRICAL PIECES. 291 
 
 Let selfish tyrants tremble now, 
 
 And cease their practices unholy: 
 I am Oppression's stalwart foe; 
 
 I am the champion of the lowly. 
 I come! I come! Ho! clear the way; 
 For Progress cannot brook delay. 
 
 My mission is a lofty one; 
 
 Death, Darkness, Error fly before me. 
 I am the spiritual sun 
 
 That lights the universe to glory. 
 I come! I come! Ho! clear the way; 
 For Progress cannot brook delay. 
 
 I come! I come! Who joins with me 
 Shall wear the Victor's crown supernal; 
 
 Who stands aloof will fail to see 
 The treasures of the life eternal. 
 
 I come! I come! Ho! clear the way; 
 For Progress cannot brook delay. 
 
292 LYRICAL PIECES. 
 
 THE THREE RIVALS. 
 
 THE Morning shakes from her finger tips 
 The clinging pearls of night 
 And wreathes with smiles her fresh young lips 
 
 To welcome the god of light. 
 He comes! he comes o'er the mountain's brow; 
 
 'Twas a weary height to climb; 
 And his face is flushed with the haste he makes 
 To hold his own with Time. 
 
 He clasps the Morn in his great strong arms, 
 
 And kisses, but leaves her soon 
 To ardently gaze on the Juno charms 
 
 Of the stately matron, Noon. 
 Then he speeds away to the sad-browed Eve, 
 
 To woo her in wanton play; 
 But she veils her face in a darkening frown, 
 
 And waves the truant away. 
 
LYRICAL PIECES. 293 
 
 SONG. 
 
 LOVE, when sounds the vesper chorus, 
 And, from starry windows bright, 
 Angels scatter dewdrops o'er us 
 From the fount of light; 
 Come kneel with me in adoration 
 
 Of the great Power that gave us life; 
 Pray for our souls' quick restoration 
 Unto their home, with beauty rife. 
 
 Earthly joys are vain and fleeting, 
 Leaving no sweet peace behind, 
 Only love's ecstatic greeting 
 Charms the restless mind. 
 But in that land to which we're going, 
 
 In the blessed by and by, 
 No chilling winds, adversely blowing, 
 Our hope's fruition shall deny. 
 
294 LYRICAL PIECES. 
 
 RETURN ONCE MORE. 
 
 THE moonlight floods the rustic bower 
 Where we so oft have met, 
 And shimmers o'er the lonely flower 
 
 You said you'd ne'er forget ; 
 Your Rose, who harshly bade you go 
 
 Forever from her door, 
 And thought she'd ne'er regret — but, oh! 
 Return, return once more. 
 
 The small offence that vexed my soul, 
 
 And steeled awhile my heart, 
 Is pardoned, and I'd fain recall 
 
 That cruel word — depart. 
 I wished it ere your footstep's sound 
 
 Had died upon the floor, 
 Since when my soul no peace has found,- 
 
 Return, return once more. 
 
LYRICAL PIECES. 295 
 
 EVENING VESPERS. 
 
 DEAREST, it is evening vespers, 
 And the soft bells' distant chime 
 Brings to me, in thrilling whispers, 
 
 Memories of thy love divine. 
 Floating, floating, nearer, nearer, 
 
 Comes that heaven-hallowed strain, 
 And the air grows purer, clearer, 
 And my sad heart glad again. 
 
 Hark! the weird chant, louder swelling, 
 
 Storms the moonlit halls of space, 
 Silence from his throne expelling, 
 
 Music grand usurps his place. 
 Now my soul, all fetters spurning, 
 
 Mounts the car of harmony, 
 And, attracted by the yearning 
 
 Of thy spirit, hastes to thee. 
 
 O mine own be true, and never 
 
 Doubt the fervor of my love, 
 For it calls around thee ever 
 
 Strong protection from above. 
 Little know'st thou how it lingers 
 
 In thy presence day and night, 
 Pointing thee with unseen fingers 
 
 To the realms of pure delight. 
 
296 LYRICAL PIECES. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL JUNE. 
 
 JUNE, with thy red lips wreathed in a smile, 
 Kissing the flowerets thou tendest the while, 
 June, with life's sunshine flooding thy heart, 
 None from thy presence could wish to depart. 
 O regal June! O peerless June; 
 Queen of the roses, beautiful June; 
 Beautiful, beautiful June. 
 
 June, the winged minstrels, trusting in thee, 
 Call their young fledgelings from hedge-row and tree, 
 Fearless of frost or the North wind's chill breath; 
 Cherish thou kindly their innocent faith. 
 
 O noble June! O glad-souled June! 
 
 Queen of the roses, beautiful June; 
 
 Beautiful, beautiful June. 
 
 June, while thou rovest, happy and gay, 
 Scattering the buds of delight on thy way, 
 Sing to our hearts of that future divine, 
 Warmed by a love-light still purer than thine. 
 
 O smiling June! O golden June! 
 
 Queen of the roses, beautiful June; 
 
 Beautiful, beautiful June. 
 
LYRICAL PIECES. 297 
 
 GREETING SONG. 
 
 AGAIN we greet you, gentle friends, 
 With smiles of welcome, words of love; 
 Again our tuneful voices blend 
 
 In strains whose power all hearts shall move. 
 We welcome you with songs of joy, 
 
 Old friends, dear friends, long tried and true, 
 May bliss be yours without alloy, 
 
 And fragrant flowers your pathway strew. 
 
 The fairest jewel in Life's crown 
 Is friendship, and its lustre, bright 
 
 As stars that from yon sky look down, 
 Floods all our happy hearts to-night. 
 We welcome you, etc. 
 
 Smile kindly on us now, and, oh! 
 
 What e'er befalls our future lot 
 Of pain or pleasure, joy or woe, 
 
 Be these blest moments ne'er forgot. 
 We welcome you with songs of joy, 
 
 Old friends, dear friends, long tried and true, 
 May bliss be yours without alloy, 
 
 And fragrant flowers your pathway strew 
 
298 LYRICAL PIECES. 
 
 LAUGHING SONG AND CHORUS. 
 
 (with echo). 
 
 H 
 
 A, ha, ha! Hear merry laughter 
 Raising up the very rafter, 
 While the startled flocks of swallows from the chimney fly, 
 Wondering what the mischief's brewin', 
 If the spirit of mad ruin 
 Lurks in ambush nigh. 
 
 Ha, ha, ha, ha! This is jolly! 
 
 That 'tis folly we deny. 
 Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! 
 We must laugh or die. 
 
 Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 We must laugh or die. 
 
 Ha, ha, ha! We'll drive dull sorrow 
 From to-day and from to-morrow; 
 Laughter holds 'tis rarest fun this using up the blues. 
 And, whatever cares may bore us, 
 We must join the laughing chorus, 
 None can long refuse. 
 
 Ha, ha, ha, ha! This is jolly! 
 
 That 'tis folly we deny. 
 Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! 
 We must laugh or die. 
 
 Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 We must laugh or die. 
 
LYRICAL PIECES. 299 
 
 ONWARD TO VICTORY. 
 
 THE God whom we worship, behold him, O World, 
 It is Truth, it is glorious Truth! 
 His beautiful flag, by the free winds unfurled, 
 
 Is borne in the strong arms of Youth. 
 Then forward, brave hearts, let the tramp of your feet 
 
 Awaken the echoes of Time; 
 Till mountain to mountain shall loudly repeat 
 The tale of our progress sublime. 
 
 To Victory onward. Who enters the van 
 
 Must know no such word as retreat; 
 We are but fulfilling great Destiny's plan, 
 
 And therefore may laugh at defeat. 
 
 Then forward, brave hearts, etc. 
 
 Though dangers beset us let none be unnerved 
 
 Whose souls are to duty inclined; 
 The Future has crowns for the faithful reserved, 
 
 And bliss for the God-loving mind. 
 Then forward, brave hearts, let the tramp of your feet 
 
 Awaken the echoes of Time; 
 Till mountain to mountain shall loudly repeat 
 
 The tale of our progress sublime. 
 

Devotional Poems. 
 
OUR COMFORTER. 
 
 O BEAUTIFUL Christ Spirit! 
 Pure essence of compassion, 
 We come to thee for comfort, 
 In all our tribulations. 
 We come to thee for comfort, 
 Well knowing thou hast proven 
 The trials and temptations 
 And sufferings that assail us. 
 Well knowing thou hast proven 
 How weak is human nature, 
 How easily o'ermastered 
 By selfishness and passion. 
 
 O beautiful Christ Spirit! 
 With confidence unshaken, 
 Amid the wreck of doctrines, 
 We rest upon thy bosom. 
 For mid the wreck of doctrines 
 And changing forms of matter, 
 Secure on Truth's foundations 
 O soul of Truth, thou standest. 
 And on Truth's sure foundations, 
 Though all else fade and perish, 
 We'll find with thee a refuge 
 Forever and forever. 
 
304 DEVOTIONAL 50EMS. 
 
 EXCERPT FROM -THE LAST OF HER 
 RACE." 
 
 My child, be comforted. 
 Although we may not with our earthly eyes 
 Discern the Soul's condition after death, 
 This much we know, that God is everywhere, 
 And the Christ Spirit, being a part of God, 
 Moves with him through all space, and folds his arms 
 Of love around all creatures. They, whose nerves 
 Are sensitive, whose minds are free from guile, 
 Feel the pulsations of His loving heart 
 So blended with their own that hardly they 
 Can tell the difference; so that oft their will 
 Is merged in His will, and they do his work 
 While thinking they but do their own. 
 
 I hold that in the happier future state 
 
 Mercy is mercy still, and love is love, 
 
 And Christ is Christ, and cannot change His name, 
 
 Still less His nature; therefore may the poor, 
 
 Unshriven outcasts from this lower sphere 
 
 Purchase with penitence a pardon there. 
 
DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 305 
 
 THE IMPERISHABLE TREE. 
 
 THERE is a tree whose leaves are green, 
 Are green and fresh the whole year round; 
 No fairer mortal eyes have seen, 
 No statelier rises from the ground. 
 
 Its roots draw nourishment from earth, 
 Its higher branches reach to heaven, 
 
 Whose angels recognize its worth, 
 And tend it gladly morn and even. 
 
 They bathe it oft in copious streams, 
 
 From the unfailing fount above, 
 And deck it o'er with broken gleams, 
 
 Warm from the fervent fires of love. 
 
 Denser and broader, day by day, 
 It grows, this wonder-bearing tree! 
 
 While, sheltered by its foliage, play 
 And sing the birds right merrily. 
 
 By inspiration taught they chant 
 Of sunnier days and happier hours, 
 
 When plenty shall o'erbalance want, 
 
 And hope's young buds be changed to flowers. 
 
306 DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 
 
 What name was given that glorious tree, 
 Which proudly triumphs over death ? 
 
 Which angels tend so lovingly ? 
 Behold, it is the tree of Faith! 
 
 INSTABILITY. 
 
 WHEN sunshine gleams and clouds retreat, 
 Our hearts beat high with hope and joy 
 We say, O life, how blest art thou! 
 But ah, our faithless heads we bow, 
 And doubts our summer dreams destroy 
 When clouds prevail and sunbeams fleet. 
 
 When sunshine gleams and clouds retreat, 
 We know our Father watches o'er 
 Our lives with tender, helpful care. 
 But ah, we grow too sad for prayer; 
 We moan, " He cares for us no more! " 
 When clouds prevail and sunbeams fleet. 
 
 When sunshine gleams and clouds retreat, 
 We know His hand has swept the sky; 
 We gladly feel He is not far. 
 Oh feeble-minded that we are! 
 Why feel we not He draws more nigh, 
 When clouds prevail and sunbeams fleet. 
 
DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 307 
 
 BLESS THE POOR. 
 
 BLESS the poor and patient workers, 
 God of Justice, bless the poor, 
 Who so earnestly are toiling 
 
 Independence to secure. 
 Oft repugnant to their natures 
 
 Is our worldly charity, 
 They would be indebted only 
 For all needful things to Thee. 
 
 Bless the poor, whose hearts are yearning 
 
 O'er their growing little ones, 
 While they call on Thee to make them 
 
 Virtuous daughters, noble sons. 
 Though their feet are heavy laden 
 
 With the mire of poverty, 
 Thou canst give them wings to lift them 
 
 Nearer, God of Truth, to Thee. 
 
 Bless the poor, whose warm affections 
 
 Soothe the tortured sufferer's pain; 
 May their prayers for Thy assistance, 
 
 Father, ne'er be raised in vain. 
 Shower on them thy choicest blessings, 
 
 That their souls may shout with glee 
 As they climb life's mystic stairway, 
 
 Nearer, God of Love, to Thee. 
 
308 DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 
 
 LOST IN THE SNOW. 
 
 MOONBEAMS, clasp the shades of night 
 In your holy, chaste embrace. 
 Stars, spill down your liquid light 
 O'er this darksome place. 
 
 Friends and kindred all are gone, 
 Buried these huge drifts below. 
 
 I am left alone, alone, 
 In a world of snow. 
 
 Snow beneath, around, above, 
 Hiding every friendly track; 
 
 Leaving nought, O God of love, 
 Nought to guide me back. 
 
 Yet I do not murmur; no, 
 I would be content to die 
 
 If through this white mist of snow 
 I could see the sky. 
 
 If through this dense cloud of snow 
 I could see Heaven's starry gate, 
 
 All enraptured I would bow, 
 And accept my fate. 
 
DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 309 
 
 But to sigh my life away 
 
 In this lonely snow-girt tomb, 
 Drowned in darkness — Father, say, 
 
 Must this be my doom ? 
 
 Fainter beats my weary heart 
 
 While the snow piles on my breast, 
 
 Oh! that yon locked clouds would part 
 Ere I sink to rest. 
 
 Heaven be thanked! they do, they do, 
 
 And I see the angel eyes 
 Peering through the matchless blue 
 
 Of the holy skies. 
 
 Soul rejoice! thy wings unfurl; 
 
 Cast thy earth-robes all aside. 
 Lo! for thee the gates of pearl 
 
 Now are opened wide. 
 
310 DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 
 
 PRAY. 
 
 OH when thy heart grows hard, my friend, 
 Look up and pray to God 
 That He will some bright angel send 
 Down from His blest abode, 
 
 To wake thy sleeping faith and show 
 All that they needy soul should know. 
 
 Oh think not thou wilt ask in vain! 
 O'er thee from heavenly bowers 
 Blessings shall fall like summer rain 
 Upon earth's fainting flowers; 
 
 And thou shalt find a rich increase 
 Of love and hope and joy and peace. 
 
 THOU GIVEST US SHELTER. 
 
 OUR Father, Thou dost shelter lovingly 
 All soul- sick mortals, all who have been stung 
 By the fierce hornets of Adversity, 
 All who are fleeing from the monster Sin, 
 All who are striving to attain the height, — 
 The flower-crowned height, where sits immortal Virtue 
 
DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 
 
 TO MY FRIENDS IN AIDENN. 
 
 DEAR spirit arms which clasp my form 
 So tenderly, 
 Dear spirit love so true and warm 
 Enfolding me; 
 
 Dear spirit eyes whose glances burn 
 
 Away despair, 
 Dear spirit thoughts which ever turn 
 
 My thoughts to prayer; 
 
 Oh what would be existence worth 
 
 If you were not ? 
 If life were all confined to earth, 
 
 This tiny spot, — 
 
 This atom in immensity ? 
 
 Thank God! thank God! 
 That wider realms by us may be 
 
 In freedom trod; 
 
 That in the fair, supernal spheres, 
 
 Awaiting all 
 Who strive for goodness, sorrowing tears 
 
 Shall cease to fall. 
 
312 DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 
 
 I TRUST, MY GOD, IN THEE. 
 
 WHEN around my being gather 
 Darkest shades of pain and sorrow, 
 Know I well, O loving Father! 
 
 Thou wilt drive them hence to-morrow. 
 Father, still I trust in thee, 
 Still, my God, I trust in Thee. 
 
 When my soul faints at the vision 
 
 Of its labors uncompleted, 
 Feels unequal to its mission, 
 
 Mourns its efforts all defeated, 
 Father, still I trust in thee, 
 
 Still, my God, I trust in Thee. 
 
 Faith assures me Thou art leading 
 
 All thy children to perfection 
 Through life's devious ways, and feeding 
 
 All with Thy divine affection. 
 This is why I trust in Thee, 
 Still, my God, I trust in Thee 
 
DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 313 
 
 OUR CHILDREN. 
 
 PERMIT us, O our Father! 
 With thankful hearts to offer Thee 
 The incense which we gather 
 
 From flowerets of humanity; 
 From tiny buds Thy hand has scattered 
 
 Along the thorny path we tread, 
 Which sorrow oft with tears has watered, 
 And joy with sunny beams has fed. 
 
 The little ones about us, 
 
 So innocent, so free from guile, 
 Who never coldly doubt us, 
 
 But fondly trust us all the while. 
 Alas for us if all their places 
 
 Were vacant and their voices stilled! 
 How we should miss their happy faces, 
 
 And mourn o'er parents arms unfilled. 
 
 For all we cherish dearly, 
 
 For all the things of life that please, 
 We thank Thee, how sincerely, 
 
 But thank Thee most of all for these; 
 For these, the baby hands, that lead us 
 
 From selfishness to charity, 
 That in their infant weakness need us 
 
 As we, O God, have need of Thee! 
 
314 DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 
 
 GOD EVERYWHERE. 
 
 OH SAY not God is far from us withdrawn! 
 He greets us through His creatures, hour by hour 
 Ay, every moment do we meet a word, 
 A look, a sign, an action meaning fraught; 
 Oh say not thou He is from us withdrawn. 
 
 He smiles upon us from all beauteous things; 
 He whispers love in all melodious tones; 
 He folds us in His arms, and then we dream 
 Sweet dreams of bliss. O friend, confess with me 
 Our God, our Father still abides with us. 
 
 Thou art so dear to me. Is't not because 
 Thy being is all redolent of Him ? 
 His creatures are so many sacred shrines, 
 Whose incense-breathing flames perfume the air 
 With odorous praise, and love, and gratitude. 
 
 Proofs of His care are seeming chastisements; 
 He prunes with skillful hand the soaring mind 
 That it may bear the richest, noblest fruits. 
 Oh let us, though our bruised affections bleed, 
 Doubt not our Father still abides with us. 
 
DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 315 
 
 DESPAIR NOT. 
 
 LONELY heart, in mourning draped, 
 Tell the Father all thy sorrow; 
 He will give thee consolation 
 For the morrow. 
 
 He, the tender, helpful friend, 
 Constant in His love forever, 
 
 Though all others fly our presence 
 Leaves us never. 
 
 All in pity, not in wrath, 
 
 Looks He on our wayward errors, 
 While He frees the trembling conscience 
 
 From its terrors. 
 
 Well He knows we shall attain 
 
 Sometime wisdom's high condition, 
 
 Where to serve Him will, henceforward, 
 B^ our mission. 
 
 None so weak are but may climb, 
 By His aid, the paths ascending 
 
 Into Heaven, where joys celestial 
 Have no ending. 
 
316 DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 
 
 LIFT US HIGHER. 
 
 LIFT us, God of nature, lift us 
 Nearer, nearer unto Thee. 
 Gift us, Friend of mortals, gift us 
 
 With the power of prophecy. 
 That we may to one another 
 
 Swift unfold Thy grand designs, 
 Till each sister and each brother 
 Learns to read aright the signs. 
 
 Daily do we bless Thee, Father, 
 
 For the wondrous boon of thought, 
 By whose aid our spirits gather 
 
 Truths with useful knowledge fraught; 
 Truths which tell of our relations 
 
 To Thy subjects everywhere, 
 Of the brotherhood of nations, 
 
 Who alike Thy bounty share. 
 
 Ah! the chain of union binds us 
 
 To the weed we trample on, 
 And to yon proud sun that blinds us 
 
 With the splendors of his throne. 
 
DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 
 
 Like to mirrors are our natures; 
 
 When we look in them we see 
 The reflection of Thy features, 
 
 Omnipresent Deity. 
 
 Lift us higher, Father, higher; 
 
 Thus we pray by day and night. 
 We would fain be drawing nigher 
 
 To that blessed mountain's height, 
 Where Peace sits with virtue ever 
 
 Clasping hands with Truth and Love; 
 Quickly all our bonds dissever, 
 
 Lead us to our home above. 
 
 3i7 
 
 LONGING FOR THE ETERNAL. 
 
 OH for the time when I shall lie 
 With folded hands and fast closed eye, 
 And pulseless heart, that ne'er again 
 Shall throb with passion or with pain. 
 Dear Father, let it not be long; 
 I pine to join the immortal throng; 
 Weary of earth, my spirit sighs 
 For quiet rest beyond the skies. 
 
318 DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 
 
 Thine is the master hand that wrought 
 The vast machinery of thought, 
 That built the temple of my brain, 
 Where yet my spirit dwells in pain. 
 For earth can never satisfy 
 The soul that still with watchful eye 
 And beating wings impatient waits 
 The opening of the golden gates. 
 
 In those bright regions far above, 
 Warmed by the sunshine of Thy love, 
 Soon will Thy child forget the strife, 
 The sorrows of her trial life. 
 Meantime she waits, with hope and faith, 
 The coming of the angel Death; 
 Glad by his hand released to flee, 
 Father, to Thee, upward to Thee. 
 
DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 319 
 
 I FIND REST IN THEE. 
 
 WHEN my heart grows faint and weary 
 'Neath the heavy load of life, 
 When I fain would flee forever 
 
 From the turmoil and the strife 
 Of the world, when, peace destroying, 
 
 The wild hosts of discord tread, 
 On Thy bosom, Heavenly Father, 
 Do I rest my weary head. 
 
 When Light folds her shining pinions 
 
 And the Darkness draweth near, 
 Bringing in her train the phantoms 
 
 Doubt, despair, unreasoning fear; 
 When existance holds before me 
 
 Sorrow's cup o'erbrimmed with woes, 
 In Thy arms, O pitying Father, 
 
 Does my spirit seek repose. 
 
 Thou alone, O tender Parent 
 
 Of the erring and the weak, 
 Thou alone canst soothe our 'plaining, 
 
 Thee we never vainly seek. 
 Thou'rt so patient, loving, constant, 
 
 That the weary and distressed 
 Still may find, oh blessed fortune! 
 
 In Thy soul eternal rest. 
 
320 
 
 DEVOTIONAL POEMS. 
 
 ROLL ON, O WORLD. 
 
 ROLL on, roll on, O laboring world' 
 Speed onward to thy destined goal; 
 Nor fear to run thy unknown course, 
 For love and truth are over all. 
 
 Without us God were incomplete; 
 
 He needs us, we are part of Him. 
 We long have tracked His guiding feet 
 
 Through midnight gloom and twilight dim. 
 
 His glory is around us, but 
 
 His fingers press our eyelids down, 
 
 Lest we be dazzled overmuch, 
 Until that we are stronger grown. 
 
 He knows how yearned each panting breast 
 O life, O love, O heaven, for thee! 
 
 Now like a fledgeling from its nest 
 We wing our way to liberty. 
 
Early Poems 
 
THE BRIDAL. 
 
 O CHILDREN of this glorious age, 
 Rouse from your lethargy of mind 
 And write on History's sacred page 
 That Justice is no longer blind! 
 
 No longer blind. Jehovah pressed 
 His fingers on her sightless eyes, 
 
 And she beheld with glad surprise 
 
 The worlds in bridal garments dressed. 
 
 "What meaneth this display ?" she said. 
 He answered, " ' Tis to show, forsooth, 
 Their joy because I thee have wed 
 Unto the mighty angel Truth. 
 
 No nobler help-meet could I find 
 For thee, my long-neglected child, 
 
 My beautiful, my undefiled; 
 
 Henceforth your lives shall be entwined. 
 
 And you shall Falsehood overthrow, 
 And drive Oppression from his throne 
 
 And teach the down-crushed slave to know 
 What is his master's, what his own. 
 
324 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 O children of this age sublime, 
 Rejoice, for Justice sees the light, 
 
 And Victory shall crown the Right 
 Sole monarch of all future time. 
 
 LENORE. 
 
 PRETTY eyes, so soon to close 
 In the mystic sleep of death, 
 Lovely cheeks that shame the rose, 
 Lips that yield a sweeter breath. 
 Can it be, oh, can it be 
 
 Sweet Lenore, dear Lenore, 
 That you'll rove with Love and me 
 Nevermore! 
 
 Ah! I knew you were too pure 
 For this sinful world of ours; 
 And this year they say, " Be sure 
 She will perish with the flowers." 
 Must you leave us with the flowers, 
 
 Sweet Lenore, dear Lenore, 
 To revisit our loved bowers 
 Nevermore ? 
 
EARLY POEMS. 
 
 Dearest, could wild sorrow kill 
 
 I should die before thee now. 
 O my darling! were't His will 
 Gladly would I with thee go. 
 But ere long I'll follow thee 
 
 To yon heaven, dear Lenore, 
 Where we'll part in agony 
 Nevermore. 
 
 DEAR MAY, ADIEU. 
 
 JOY'S sunny hours have warmed us, 
 And brightened many a day, 
 Since first you owned with blushes 
 
 You loved me, gentle May. 
 We feared not then the future, 
 
 The present was so blest. 
 We reveled in its pleasures, 
 And left to time the rest. 
 Now we awhile must sever, 
 
 But, love, you will be true. 
 One kiss, and then — oh, sorrow! 
 Dear May, dear May, adieu. 
 
 The young flowers of my heart, dear, 
 
 I leave behind with you. 
 Oh shed upon their leaflets 
 
 Affection's freshening dew. 
 
 -5 
 
326 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 Still cherish them with kindness, 
 That they may not decay, 
 
 But strengthen into beauty 
 While I am far away. 
 
 Now we awhile must sever, etc. 
 
 Give me your pictured image 
 
 To feed my longing eyes, 
 In lonely hours of sadness, 
 
 When distance 'tween us lies. 
 And yet, why should I crave it, 
 
 When love, with matchless art, 
 That blooming face before me 
 
 Has graven on my heart. 
 Now we awhile must sever, etc. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 327 
 
 FADING. 
 
 FADING, fading from my sight, 
 Week by week, and day by day, 
 Goest thou, my heart's delight, 
 From the busy world away. 
 
 Stay thee, stay thee, dear, I pray thee, 
 
 Till my heart be broken quite; 
 Not before me, I implore thee, 
 Enter Heaven's blessed light. 
 
 Then we'll reach the bower of love, 
 
 By the stairway of the stars, 
 There to rest, my weary dove, 
 Undisturbed by earthly jars. 
 Farewell sorrow, for to-morrow 
 
 We shall 'mong the angels move; 
 There forever, never, never- 
 More in separate paths to rove. 
 
328 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 LIVE YE WELL. 
 
 FROM the peaceful realms above us 
 Where the white robed angels dwell 
 Come sweet tones from those who love us 
 
 Breathing softly, " Live ye well." 
 Live ye well, oh, live ye well! 
 'Tis the burden of the song, 
 Echoing our dreams among, 
 Live, oh, live, live well. 
 
 Live ye well, for every action 
 Is a seed from which shall spring 
 
 Memories, that by attraction 
 Will to you for ages cling. 
 
 Live ye well, oh, live ye well! etc. 
 
 Live ye well, for sin can never 
 Pass the shining gates of Heaven, 
 
 And your souls must suffer ever 
 Till you have yourselves forgiven. 
 Live ye well, oh, live ye well! etc. 
 
 Live ye well, and we will aid you 
 
 In the struggle for the right, 
 Live ye well, that He who made you 
 
 May enfold you in His light. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 
 
 3 2 9 
 
 Live ye well, oh, live ye well! 
 
 Tis the burden of the song, 
 Echoing our dreams among, 
 
 Live, oh, live ye well. 
 
 TO A CHILD. 
 
 CHILD, remember, angel friends, 
 Hover near thee everywhere, 
 To the earth's remotest ends. 
 
 Should thy wandering feet repair, 
 Think not thou wouldst be alone; 
 
 Arms thy vision fails to see 
 Would be fondly round thee thrown, 
 Guiding and supporting thee. 
 
 O'er life's quagmires they will lift, 
 
 Tenderly thy helpless form; 
 They'll ne'er let thy soul adrift 
 
 To be wrecked amid the storm. 
 They will mitigate the pain 
 
 When misfortunes on thee fall; 
 They will bring thee back again 
 
 Peace and joy to make thee whole. 
 
330 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 Let thy loving thoughts ascend, 
 
 Child, to them by night and day, 
 Who unseen thy steps attend 
 
 Smoothing still life's rugged way. 
 Thou shouldst ever grateful be 
 
 To the friends whom God has given, 
 From sin's toils to set thee free, 
 
 And attend thy soul to Heaven. 
 
 THE BLIND GIRL TO HER BIRD 
 
 BIRDIE, birdie, sing for me; 
 Sing for me, dear birdie, pray. 
 Time goes on so wearily 
 
 Since my sight was ta'en away. 
 
 Birdie, if 'twere not for you 
 
 I should scarce know day from night; 
 You're my time-piece, kind and true, 
 
 Telling me when it is light. 
 
 When you sing I think of Heaven, 
 Where the blessed angels stay, 
 
 Where have gone my sisters seven, 
 Where I too shall go some day. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 331 
 
 Children visit me and bring 
 
 Fruits and flowers of fragrance rare, 
 
 Tell me stories, laugh and sing, 
 Braid and curl my flowing hair. 
 
 And I think, dear birdie, oft, 
 
 If I could for one hour see 
 Their young faces, warm and soft, 
 
 Oh how happy I should be! 
 
 Sing, sing on, my pretty pet, 
 
 Pour your sweet notes on the wind; 
 
 Music charms me to forget, 
 For awhile, that I am blind. 
 
 THE BEGGAR'S BLESSING. 
 
 O MOTHER! I saw in the town, to-day, 
 A beggar, wrinkled, and thin, and old. 
 The snow-flakes matted his beard so grey, 
 And his face was purple, and pinched with cold. 
 
 No warm hat covered his poor, bald head, 
 But only a battered and crownless brim, 
 
 And his clothes were scanty, and hung in shreds, 
 That flapped in the breeze, round each palsied limb. 
 
332 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 Nothing he said as he walked the street 
 To those who carelessly passed him by; 
 
 But one could see that his need was great 
 By his pitiful look, and pleading eye. 
 
 I watched until he sat him down 
 
 On the steps of a mansion, large and grand, 
 One of the handsomest in the town, 
 
 And leaned his cheek on his bony hand. 
 
 Presently out through the great door stept 
 The owner, swinging a shining cane, 
 
 And a chilling terror over me crept, 
 For his face with anger was all aflame. 
 
 " What do you here ? " he roughly said 
 
 To the aged sufferer at his feet, 
 Who answered, " I've nowhere to lay my head, 
 
 No fire to warm me, no food to eat. 
 
 Long I scorned to beg, but at last am driven 
 By clamorous famine to your door. 
 
 Then oh, as you hope for rest in Heaven, 
 Give me a crust — I ask no more." 
 
 O mother! I shudder to tell the tale, 
 How the cruel owner, with curses, then 
 
 Struck the poor man over his cheek so pale, 
 And pushed him out in the street again. 
 
EARLY POEMS. T,S3 
 
 I stood a moment in blank amaze, 
 
 And then more swift than a bird I flew, 
 And in the beggar's cold hand placed 
 
 The dollar I had this morning from you. 
 
 He looked at it, and looked at me, 
 
 While the tear-drops burst from his time-dimmed eyes, 
 Then touched my forehead, and silently 
 
 Invoked a blessing from yonder skies. 
 
 Invoked a blessing on me and mine, 
 
 And, mother, I know his prayer was heard, 
 
 For my vision was crossed with a light divine, 
 And my soul to its lowest depths was stirred. 
 
 We parted. He hastened to purchase bread, 
 
 While I ran home with a lightened heart, 
 For, mother, the blessing the beggar laid 
 
 On my life, forever will peace impart. 
 
334 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 THE CHILD TO THE BIRD. 
 
 DAINTY little song-bird, 
 Sitting on the bough, 
 Think not I would harm thee,— 
 
 Harm thee birdie ? No. 
 I have come to gather 
 All the pearly notes 
 Scattered by thy music 
 As through air it floats. 
 
 Charming little song-bird, 
 
 Sitting on the tree, 
 Not one pretty feather 
 
 Shall be hurt by me. 
 I but come to listen 
 
 To thy thrilling song; 
 How the wild strains echo 
 
 Yonder hills among. 
 
 Happy little song-bird, 
 
 Sitting on the bough, 
 May the angels keep me 
 
 Innocent as now. 
 Till like thee my spirit 
 
 Spreads its wings to rise 
 To the home of Freedom 
 
 In the azure skies. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 
 
 THE BIRD TO THE CHILD. 
 
 CHILD, I do not fear thee, 
 For thy heart is kind, 
 And no thought of evil 
 
 Lurks within thy mind; 
 Like a fragrant lily 
 
 Opening to the light, 
 
 Art thou, child of nature, 
 
 Beautiful and bright. 
 
 Child, in peace together 
 
 Thou and I will sing; 
 Far through yon blue ether 
 
 Shall our voices ring, 
 Till the music-loving 
 
 Spirits gather near, 
 Bringing gifts celestial 
 
 From their happy sphere. 
 
 Gentle one, I pray thee, 
 
 Keep thy soul alway 
 Glowing and transparent 
 
 Like this summer day. 
 Then though clouds may gather, 
 
 Fear not, child, nor care, 
 They will leave no shadow 
 
 Darkly brooding there. 
 
 335 
 
330 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 THE DISCLOSURE. 
 
 O SISTER, can you guess, dear, what they told me 
 Before you came ? 
 You know how long I've lain here, sick and helpless, 
 Deformed and lame ? 
 
 Well, I shall soon be better. Sister, darling, 
 
 Give me your hand; 
 A great Physician comes, whose name is famous 
 
 Throughout the land. 
 
 He may arrive this very night. I tremble 
 
 With joy, with joy, 
 To think that He will stoop to heal and comfort 
 
 A poor lame boy. 
 
 Soon as He touches me and breathes upon me 
 
 I shall grow strong 
 And active as your bird, that hops and warbles 
 
 The whole day long. 
 
 But, sister, I must go with Him. He'll take me 
 
 To His own home, 
 Where, when your education is completed, 
 
 You, too, may come. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 337 
 
 Now do you understand me, dear ? My meaning 
 
 Is this: I go 
 Where our loved mother went one sunny morning 
 
 Not long ago. 
 
 Oh, do not weep! Though you may not perceive me, 
 
 I'll visit you 
 Each day to cheer, to counsel and protect you 
 
 Life's journey through. 
 
 Your hand in mine, your dear, dear face beside me, 
 
 I wait in peace 
 The coming of the moment that shall witness 
 
 My soul's release. 
 
 OUR HOUSEHOLD DARLING. 
 
 OUR household darling, I see her now, 
 With bright curls wreathing her sunny brow, 
 And eyes affording a glimpse of heaven 
 Clearer than dreams have ever given; 
 And lips, the favorite abode of bliss, 
 Deeply dyed with a rose's kiss, 
 Where roguish smiles play hide and seek 
 With dimples lurking about her cheek. 
 
338 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 Our household darling, I see her now, 
 With an angel's chaplet upon her brow. 
 She treads no more with mortal feet 
 The pavement of the busy street; 
 She twines no more with fleshly hands 
 About our forms earth's floral bands, 
 But on the spirit shore I see 
 Our household darling awaiting me. 
 
 HESITANCY. 
 
 O speak! O speak! 
 Why should thy lips be dumb, when pleadingly 
 Love beckons from the windows of thine eyes, 
 And from thy soul's secluded altars rise 
 Hot flames, that brand thy secret visibly 
 On either cheek ? 
 
 What dost thou fear ? 
 To fail ? Be sure Success will never pause 
 To aid thee if thy feet no effort make 
 To reach the goal. Arouse thee, for her sake 
 O'er power Delay and Doubt, the deadliest foes 
 She numbers here. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 339 
 
 Speak, speak, oh speak! 
 The word that trembles on thy unused tongue 
 May be the key to unlock for us Joy's gates, 
 The key to solve the problem of our fates, 
 So far asunder cast when we were young; 
 Then speak, oh, speak! 
 
 I FLIRTED BUT TO TEASE. 
 
 I SAW his longing eyes were turned 
 Upon me where I sat 
 With Tom, and Dick, and Valentine, 
 
 Engaged in social chat. 
 Those eyes kept whispering to my heart, 
 
 'Come, Nellie, leave them, please.' 
 I only stayed the longer, yet 
 I flirted but to tease. 
 
 I saw him rise and pace the floor 
 
 With quick, impatient tread, 
 When Tom's mischievous fingers snatched 
 
 The rosebud from my head. 
 I frowned on Tom, who only laughed 
 
 And ate the crimson flower, 
 The rose he gave, whose love I lost 
 
 Forever in that hour. 
 
340 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 He left the room. I smiled, and thought, 
 
 Ere long he will return. 
 I dreamed not of the lesson drear 
 
 My spirit had to learn. 
 I rose to go; Tom held me back; 
 
 I sternly bade him cease, 
 And told the group, with careless air, 
 
 I flirted but to tease. 
 
 The guests departed, one by one, 
 
 Till I alone was left; 
 Then first the fingers of a dread 
 
 My heart-strings rudely swept — 
 A dread that in the after days 
 
 Changed into cruel pain, 
 For o'er the threshold of my door 
 
 He never passed again. 
 
 The years dragged by, the lonely years 
 
 Led on by grief and care, 
 And resignation took the place 
 
 Of passionate despair. 
 But still, at every evening's close, 
 
 Stern memory will not cease 
 To tax me with rnv folly when 
 
 I flirted but to tease. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 
 
 34 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 INTO the golden light, 
 Where dwell the angels bright, 
 Near to God's throne, 
 
 Guided by Innocence, 
 Our boy has gone; 
 
 Faith and Love bore him hence, 
 Our treasured one. 
 
 Far from sin-lurking snares, 
 Far from earth's woes and cares 
 He has been led, 
 
 Led by fair Purity. 
 Time's book unread, — 
 
 Into eternity; 
 He is not dead. 
 
 When all our work is done 
 Here, and life's setting sun 
 Tinges the West, 
 
 He who has gone before, 
 Unto his rest, 
 
 Smiling, will ope the door 
 At Love's request. 
 
342 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 THE KANSAS MOTHER. 
 
 YOU never chanced to hear about my Johnny ? 
 Why, stranger, half the world has heard about him, 
 And wondered how I've learned to do without him, 
 He was so good, so blythesome and so bonny. 
 
 The whole account was printed in the papers — 
 Both of the papers published in our village — 
 How, when the border ruffians came to pillage, 
 
 He and his comrades made them stop their capers. 
 
 You see he'd faith, the true sort, that whenever 
 The hand was willing God would rightly use it; 
 And so when risk appeared he'd ne'er refuse it 
 
 But let his arm do service as a lever 
 
 To raise up Freedom to her rightful station. 
 Well! it was broken in the work, and weary 
 With toil, and hardship, and confinement dreary, 
 
 He died and left his blessing to the Nation. 
 
 The tears will come, though I am proud while telling. 
 
 He was my son, my precious child and only. 
 
 Now stranger, I'm a widow, poor and lonely, 
 But welcome as the day to this log dwelling 
 
EARLY POEMS. 343 
 
 Are all blue-coated boys, the brave defenders 
 
 Of what he fought and bled for. When I meet them 
 I think of him, and like a mother greet them. 
 
 Ah! many such as he may Heaven send us. 
 
 OUR MOTTO. 
 
 INNOCENT childhood, 
 Beautiful youth, 
 Fling to the free winds 
 The banner of Truth. 
 And let your motto be: 
 Love to Humanity! 
 Let your bright motto be: 
 Love to Humanity! 
 
 Rally around it, 
 
 Guard it with care, 
 
 Never yet floated 
 
 A banner so fair. 
 
 Send it o'er land and sea, 
 
 Herald of Destiny, 
 
 All should your motto see: 
 
 Love to Humanity! 
 
344 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 'Tis charity's motto, 
 Favored of God, 
 Long in her footsteps 
 Angels have trod, 
 Bringing, so tenderly, 
 Love to Humanity! 
 Bringing, so joyfully, 
 Love to Humanity! 
 
 Onward, press onward, 
 Light is before, 
 Darkness behind you, 
 Falter no more. 
 Raise high your banner free, 
 Soldier of Liberty, 
 Let all your motto see: 
 Love to Humanity! 
 
 THE HUMAN SOUL. 
 
 THE human soul is a wind-harp, over whose strings 
 wanders the breath of life, drawing from them sounds, 
 now soft and low as a lover's sighs, now wild and mournful 
 as the wailings of Boreas among winter's leafless trees, and 
 now joyous and exultant as the songs of happy angels 
 around the throne of the Eternal. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 345 
 
 SLANDER. 
 
 FROM the morasses of the human mind 
 A venemous reptile, foul with loathsome slime, 
 Crawls when night's darkness overspreads the sky. 
 Impelled by an insatiate appetite, 
 It seeks the couch of dreaming Innocence, 
 To feed upon the crimson blood that bursts 
 In bright impetuous torrents from her heart 
 And makes its way in countless rivulets 
 Even to her limbs' remote extremities. 
 
 The reptile's venomed bite quick penetrates 
 The yielding flesh, and through the delicate veins 
 The poison hasteneth, pursued by pain, 
 'Till every fibre of the sleeper's frame 
 Quivers with anguish, and she wakes to find 
 Her flowery life-path all bestrewn with thorns, 
 Her sole companion gloomy suffering. 
 
 Th.s crawling thing — this reptile hideous 
 Beyond description — bears the simple name 
 Of Slander; easy it may seem to speak, 
 But angels tremble when they utter it. 
 
346 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 And oft the soul of love within them weeps 
 And agonizes sorely when they see 
 Their protegees, arrayed in mortal garb, 
 Secretly fostering this bane of life. 
 
 Oh for some Hercules endowed with power 
 To strangle this vile serpent, and relieve 
 The world of all the misery it creates! 
 
 THOU ASKEST WHY NO MORE I SING. 
 
 THOU askest why no more I sing; 
 Rash questioner, I'll answer thee. 
 It is because my weary wing 
 
 Droops 'neath life's heavy mystery; 
 
 Life's wondrous, wondrous mystery 
 That sits and broods upon my heart 
 
 Sullen and silent, nor to me 
 Its guarded secret will impart. 
 
 Nightly my earnest prayers ascend, 
 Through our death-tainted atmosphere, 
 
 To the Beginning and the End, 
 
 The awful Power that placed us here; 
 
EARLY POEMS. 347 
 
 That placed us here and gave us life, 
 
 And wants life cannot satisfy, 
 And minds that wage unending strife 
 
 With all their vision can descry. 
 
 My prayers ring out like evening chimes, 
 
 But nothing follows, save it be 
 A whispered word from Hope, sometimes, 
 
 Which bids me wait more patiently. 
 
 We search with eager, trembling hands 
 
 Each crevice in the ruined past, 
 And dig among the drifting sands 
 
 In hopes to find the key at last 
 
 That shall unlock Fate's secret door, 
 
 And to our curious minds reveal 
 What the great future hath in store 
 
 Reserved for us of woe or weal. 
 
 "Unhappy mortals! rest and wait;" 
 
 A felt but unseen Presence saith; 
 "The key that shall unlock the gate — 
 
 Futurity's wide gate — is Death." 
 
348 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 M 
 
 THE VISION. 
 
 INE eyes beheld, enraptured, 
 A vision of the future! 
 She stood unveiled before me, 
 Her wondrous eyes deep searching 
 My heart that thrilled and trembled 
 'Neath their magnetic glances. 
 
 She said, " Thou'rt mine — mine only. 
 The cold Past may not claim thee, 
 Nor yet the fickle Present. 
 I am the white-robed angel, 
 Crowned with the crown Perfection, 
 For whom thou long hast languished. 
 
 I heard and I believed her — 
 My soul's sublime ideal! 
 I knelt and kissed her garments, 
 The while her soft caresses 
 Fell dew-like on the flowerets 
 Unfolding in my nature. 
 
 "Be patient, child," she whispered, 
 " Contented still to follow. 
 Thou canst not run before me. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 349 
 
 Nor keep pace with my fleetness, 
 For swifter than thought's couriers 
 Are all my varied movements. 
 
 But, knowing thy devotion 
 And fervent aspirations, 
 I'll waft thee many a message 
 Of comfort and of warning 
 Across the space dividing 
 The mortal and immortal." 
 
 She stooped and kissed my forehead, 
 Then with a benediction 
 Withdrew; but in the distance 
 I see her ever shining — 
 The star of my existence — 
 The goal to which I hasten. 
 
 A WINTER PICTURE. 
 
 JUBILANT sleigh-bells, 
 Lavishly scattering 
 'xVlong the wild breezes 
 Musical spray. 
 Proud coursers flying 
 Over the snow-drifts, 
 Glancing and sparkling 
 In the moon's ray. 
 
350 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 White mantled landscape, 
 Banded with shadows 
 Where the tree spectres 
 Lingering stand, 
 Brooklet, once flowing, 
 Now without motion, 
 Touched by the potent 
 Ice-monarch's wand. 
 
 Over all bending 
 
 In mute protection 
 
 Lo! Heaven's spangled 
 
 Archway is seen; 
 
 Through whose high portals, 
 
 Stately, majestic, 
 
 Walks in her glory 
 
 Luna — the Queen! 
 
 LONGING FOR SPRING. 
 
 GENTLE Spring we wait thy coming, 
 Hither fly on lightning wing; 
 Oh to see the field flowers blooming 
 
 And the fruit trees blossoming! 
 Oh to hear the wild bees humming 
 We do long sweet spring! 
 
EARLY POEMS. 
 
 Oh to hear the free birds singing 
 
 Nature's hymns in woodland bowers! 
 
 Oh to see the cascade flinging 
 To the sun its pearly showers! 
 
 Oh to feel the zephers bringing 
 Incense to the hours! 
 
 Spring, behold! the trees are praying, 
 Stretching forth their naked arms; 
 
 Thus they cry, " Where art thou straying 
 While we droop 'neath vague alarms ? 
 
 Lovely Spring, no more delaying, 
 Give us back our charms." 
 
 Hasten, Spring, we are aweary 
 Of the Winter's ice and snow; 
 
 Of his days so dark and dreary, 
 Thou hast brighter ones we know, 
 
 O'er whose forms the sunbeams cheery 
 Silvery mantles throw. 
 
 Still for thee our hearts are sighing; 
 
 Hither speed, fair Queen, and bring 
 All thy train with banners flying, 
 
 Led by minstrels caroling — 
 Minstrels with each other vieing 
 
 In thy praise, sweet Spring. 
 
352 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 SEVEN QUESTIONS. 
 
 OLD man, with hair like yon thin cloud 
 Dissolving in the blue of heaven, 
 Come sit you down and answer me; 
 I want to ask you questions seven. 
 
 First, are you glad that you were born ? 
 " Dear youth, though I have suffered pain 
 And sorrow oft, I thank my God 
 For life, for life and all its gain." 
 
 And wish you long on earth to stay ? 
 " No; yet I bow me to His will. 
 I'm weary, but with patience wait 
 My earthly mission to fullfil." 
 
 What think you of humanity? 
 11 It is a grand and wondrous fruit 
 Of life, that all the juices hoards 
 Upspringing from its parent root. 
 
 'Tis mellowing in the present time, 
 
 'Twill ripen in the after years; 
 Then will the marriage tie be formed 
 
 Connecting earth with Heaven's high spheres." 
 
EARLY POEMS. 353 
 
 Have you the faith your youth possessed ? 
 " The same, but glorified. Small store 
 It sets by man's stability, 
 
 But, oh, it trusts the Father more! " 
 
 What worldly gain esteem you most ? 
 " Experience; 'tis worth the world." 
 And what the loss you most lament ? 
 " Innocence from her white throne hurled." 
 
 One question more, and I have done. 
 
 'Mong all the wonders you recall, 
 Pray, which of them do you regard 
 
 Most strange, most wonderful of all ? 
 
 " My own existence. This it is 
 
 Which baffles, overpowers my thought. 
 I am, I feel, I think, I love; 
 
 But how or wherefore know I nought. 
 
 "I am, I feel, I think, I love; 
 My aspirations soon will cast 
 Aside the chains that bind my soul, 
 And I shall meet the Truth at last." 
 
354 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 COURAGE TAKE. 
 
 COURAGE take, O pilgrim soldier! 
 Bravely still thy soul defend. 
 Though the hosts of sin beset thee, 
 He who made will not forget thee, 
 He will be thy friend. 
 
 Wary be, O pilgrim soldier! 
 
 Put Truth's matchless armor on, 
 With the sword of Justice arm thee. 
 Then, though foes conspire to harm thee, 
 
 Thou needst flee from none. 
 
 For thy breast-plate, pilgrim soldier, 
 
 Wear thy conscience, pure and bright; 
 Let no stain deface its glory, 
 That in darkness gathering o'er thee 
 It may give thee light. 
 
 When thou hast, O pilgrim soldier, 
 Nobly fought the battle through, 
 Whitest angel hands shall crown thee, 
 Whitest angel souls shall own thee 
 For their champion true. 
 
 
EARLY POEMS. 355 
 
 DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 UP springs the tender plant 
 From the cold sod, 
 Sighing for liberty, 
 Yearning for God; 
 
 Stretching its leafy arms 
 
 Higher and higher, 
 Drawing the soul of Love 
 
 Nigher and nigher. 
 
 Taller it grows, and Grace 
 Shapes it, while Beauty 
 
 Decks it with blossoms rare, 
 Garlands of Duty. 
 
 Lo! now the tree, mature, 
 Learns of its mission; 
 
 Now are its ardent hopes 
 Crowned with fruition. 
 
 High towers its stately head, 
 
 Far from the sod, 
 Waving in Freedom's air, 
 
 Bowing to God ! 
 
356 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 SONG OF THE GRAND ARMY. 
 
 We come! we come! 
 Bearing the flag our sires bequeathed, the beautiful, the 
 glorious! 
 Look up! behold its gleaming stripes, its lustrous maze of 
 stars. 
 In the grand cause of Truth and Right it still must prove 
 victorious 
 O'er all our foes, whose causeless hate its lawful progress 
 bars. 
 We come! we come! Our hearts beat high with ardent 
 aspirations; 
 We cannot rest, we will not pause until our flag is seen 
 And greeted, too, by every eye throughout our mighty na- 
 tion, 
 And traitors all are classed among the things that once 
 have been. 
 
 We come! we come! 
 Make way for us; our swords are keen, and strong the 
 hands that wield them, 
 For they defend the holiest rights the world has ever 
 known. 
 Wrong and Oppression crouch in fear; say, false ones, can 
 you shield them 
 From Liberty's indignant glance and Virtue's wrathful 
 frown ? 
 
EARLY POEMS. 357 
 
 Think not because we long have held the olive branch 
 before you, 
 And opened wide our arms to woo your penitent return, 
 That still we'll struggle to avert the storm impending o'er 
 you. 
 No! outraged Justice now is roused, and you her strength 
 shall learn. 
 
 We come! we come! 
 Hear you the heavy tramp of feet ? it is our legions swelling 
 
 Like some majestic river rolling through incessant rain. 
 See you the countless flashing eyes whose glances stern are 
 telling 
 How resolute our will can be our purpose to sustain ? 
 Know you how near the canker-worm has gnawed the 
 chains asunder 
 With which you load your fellow-men ? Shame that such 
 things should be! 
 The cruel links will break when peals our battle-cry of 
 thunder, 
 " For all that wear the human form a home and liberty!" 
 
358 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 DREAM ON! 
 
 DREAM on, fair maiden, earth has nought 
 More sweet than are those dreams of thine, 
 For Love bedews thine every thought 
 
 With nectar from a fount divine. 
 Dream on, for real life is all 
 
 Too harsh and cold for such as thee; 
 Why shouldst thou waken to recall 
 Thy soul to its inharmony ? 
 
 Dream on, dream on. 
 
 Dream on, fair maiden, and endow 
 
 Thy bright ideal with thy mind, 
 That it may ever richer grow 
 
 In grace and loveliness refined. 
 Dream on and sing in tuneful strains 
 
 Of what thy glowing fancy paints, 
 That we may learn how God sustains, 
 
 In bliss entranced, His favored saints. 
 Dream on, dream on. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 359 
 
 THE SHORE OF YOUTH. 
 
 SWEET girlish laughter, charm once more 
 My listening ear 
 With music from that fairy shore 
 To me so dear; 
 
 The shore, the happy shore, called Youth 
 
 Where I have been; 
 Where innocence, and faith and truth 
 
 Are only seen. 
 
 There beauty's dearest pets are found, 
 
 The bright-winged birds 
 That scatter, set with pearls of sound, 
 
 Their unknown words. 
 
 The lovely flowers with dainty lips, 
 
 And he as fair — 
 The butterfly — who lightly sips 
 
 Pure nectar there. 
 
 O radiant shore! O fairy sphere 
 
 Beyond the sea; 
 The sea whose every drop's a tear; 
 
 Ah! woe is me. 
 
360 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 The cruel sea — Experience, 
 
 When once 'tis crossed 
 
 Faith, hope, love, truth, sweet innocence, 
 All, all are lost. 
 
 PARTING. 
 
 WE must part at last, at last! 
 We who have been friends so long; 
 Well! since boyhood's years are past, 
 We must suffer and be strong. 
 
 Men we are, with manhood's cares, 
 
 Labors, aspirations, joys; 
 And our restless courage dares 
 
 Things untried when we were boys. 
 
 Eastward now your steps are bent 
 To secure the wreath of Fame; 
 
 You will work with fixed intent 
 To achieve a deathless name; 
 
 While I to the quiet West, 
 
 Where the flaming sun goes down, 
 
 Wander in unceasing quest 
 Of contentment — not renown. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 361 
 
 Friend so cherished, never more 
 
 May we meet on earth again. 
 God protect thee, I implore, 
 
 Keep thy future free from stain. 
 
 Though our earnest efforts fail 
 
 To attain the longed-for prize, 
 May our eager spirits scale 
 
 Truth's proud heights that pierce the skies. 
 
 MAN'S WILLING SLAVE. 
 
 LO! the noble, patient brute, 
 Trembling neath his driver's blows, 
 Kicks and curses. Ah! who knows 
 What he suffers, who is mute. 
 
 He, the willing slave of man, 
 
 Without hope of future gain, 
 
 And in weariness and pain, 
 Serves his master all he can. 
 
 Unresisting, he endures 
 
 All the drink-crazed demon's spite, 
 Who inflicts, from morn till night, 
 
 Cruel wounds time only cures. 
 
362 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 Look on his neglected state, 
 
 Staggering limbs and mournful eyes, 
 Haggard mien and laboring sighs, 
 
 All attest his hapless fate. 
 
 Man, in God's own image made, 
 Let his humbler creatures share 
 Your protecting love and care; 
 
 Their distress invokes your aid. 
 
 Your reward, what shall it be ? 
 
 Something that will please you well. 
 
 Ask your conscience; it will tell 
 What befits eternity. 
 
 SIMPLICITY. 
 
 HAZEL-eyed, and sweet of face, 
 Winning, by her childlike grace, 
 Oft a champion to defend, 
 Now a lover, now a friend 
 
 What you haughty ones reject, 
 She still treats with kind respect, 
 Smiles to cheer their burdened days, 
 " God has need of them," she says. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 363 
 
 'Neath her look of perfect trust 
 Falsehood crouches in the dust, 
 Guilt himself abashed goes by, 
 Evil things her presence fly. 
 
 Children thronging at her feet, 
 Love to hear her lips repeat 
 Wisdom's plain impressive words 
 Which for constant use she hoards. 
 
 Though our human lot she shares, 
 Not a stain her spirit bears; 
 Pure and true, and glad and free, 
 Lo! the maid — Simplicity. 
 
 HEIGHTS AND DEPTHS. 
 
 (a fragment). 
 
 FIRST VOICE. 
 
 BLACK abysses, hellward tending, 
 Lost beneath the stagnant water, 
 Deeper far, through shades plutonian, 
 Sinks my overburdened soul, 
 Forced by sin, and shame, and horror 
 Through the realms of wild distraction, 
 To the dread domains of madness, 
 Out of reason's mild control. 
 
364 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 SECOND VOICE. 
 
 Lofty mountains, heavenward climbing, 
 Crowned with purity's white symbol, 
 Lo! my fond, aspiring spirit 
 Soars far higher than you dare; 
 Borne on thought's majestic pinions, 
 Through the regions of the real, 
 To the verge of the ideal, 
 Seeking' treasures new and rare. 
 
 O SILENT LAND. 
 
 O SILENT land! O land of rest, 
 O'ershadowed by the cypress trees, 
 In which no May-bird builds her nest, 
 Nor plays the fickle-minded breeze. 
 
 I'm coming, coming; soon my feet 
 Will touch thy borders wide and bare; 
 
 Farewell to earth and earth-ties sweet, 
 I'm almost there! I'm almost there! 
 
 O land, though Pleasure finds no place 
 Well suited for her bower in thee. 
 
 Neither can Pain the footsteps trace 
 Of those who there for refuge flee. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 365 
 
 O silent lana! O land of rest! 
 
 I feel thy damp air on my brow. 
 Life's sun is sinking in the west, 
 
 Thy chilling shades embrace me now. 
 
 I'm coming, coming; soon my feet 
 
 Will touch thy borders wide and bare; 
 
 Farewell to earth and earth-ties sweet, 
 I'm almost there! I'm almost there! 
 
 ONLY A SEWING GIRL. 
 
 5HPIS but a simple story, friend; 
 
 1 You may not think it worth your while 
 One moment of your time to spend 
 
 In listening to it. Ah! you smile, 
 And say, " Go on." Well, let me see; 
 
 A month ago this very day, 
 My neighbor came in haste to me, 
 
 And bade me go without delay, 
 To such a house in such a street, 
 
 In such a quarter of the town, 
 Where lay one dying. Soon my feet 
 
 Were at the door, and I was shown 
 Up three long flights of moidering stairs 
 
 Into a garret bare and cold, 
 Where lay (her bed some broken chairs) 
 
 A woman prematurely old. 
 
366 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 Large brilliant eyes, and lovely hair 
 
 That o'er her bony shoulders swept, 
 Were all the charms that want and care 
 
 Had left to her. I lightly stepped 
 Toward her, and with kindly hand 
 
 Smoothed back the tresses from her face. 
 She smiled, and seemed to understand 
 
 Some pitying friend was in the place. 
 
 She strove to speak, and bending low 
 
 My ear, I caught these whispered words: 
 " My sister, in the long ago, 
 
 I loved to listen to the birds, 
 That in their cages sang to me 
 
 Of sunny climes and leafy bowers, 
 Where brooklets threaded merrily 
 
 Their way 'mong labyrinths of flowers; 
 Where all their swift-winged, beauteous race 
 
 Were free to go where fancy moved, 
 Were free to seek in any place 
 
 The food, the mates that best they loved. 
 
 Then they'd bemoan their own hard lot, 
 
 Those captive birds, and peck their bars; 
 And I would sympathize in thought 
 
 With them, and wish myself afar 
 From soulless piles of brick and stone, 
 
 From mind-destroying servitude, 
 From selfishness, that, sparing none, 
 
 Is fed on human flesh and blood. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 367 
 
 Dear lady, oft I've wondered why 
 
 The sermonizers of the poor, 
 With all their zeal, so little try 
 
 Our earthly welfare to secure. 
 Why they evince such anxious care 
 
 Concerning our souls' future bliss 
 In other worlds, the while we fare 
 
 So meanly, wretchedly in this. 
 
 Ah, lady, in my ignorance 
 
 I've fancied 'twere a wiser plan 
 To seize upon the present chance 
 
 Of making happy while we can; 
 Of lifting from the prostrate form 
 
 The heavy load that weighs it down; 
 Of sheltering from the pouring storm 
 
 The houseless children of the town. 
 How can our anxious spirits soar 
 
 To seek the holy peace of heaven, 
 Till from their station at the door 
 
 Starvation's clamorous wolves are driven. 
 
 Earth fades away. I'm going now 
 
 I trust to meet a kindlier fate. 
 The Christ, who loves poor mortals so, 
 
 May stoop to ope for me the gate. 
 Ah, yes! I see its gleaming pearl — 
 
 Lady, remember what I've said." 
 She ceased; the lonely sewing girl 
 
 Lay motionless before me — dead. 
 
368 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 THE BRIDGE. 
 
 THERE'S a safe, strong bridge o'er the river of death, 
 Built by the angels; come and see. 
 It swerves no more in the wind's rude breath 
 Than the trunk of yon giant forest tree. 
 
 'Tis a magical bridge, for in passing o'er 
 The old grow young, and the sorrowful gay; 
 
 And the sick are healed ere they reach the shore 
 Ablaze with the light of eternal day. 
 
 No more need the children of mortals fear 
 To cross the gloomy and turbulent tide, 
 
 For the structure is strengthened, year by year, 
 By bands of workmen from either side. 
 
 In the midst upriseth a column tall, 
 
 Supporting a graceful and snow-white dove, 
 
 From whose beak dependeth an open scroll 
 Inscribed with the motto — Immortal Love! 
 
EARLY POEMS. 369 
 
 THE DEPARTED. 
 
 STILL, one by one, they leave us — they, whose names 
 Have been like beacon lights unto our youth, — 
 Have safely guided, by their lambent flames, 
 Our feet to knowledge, wisdom, love and truth. 
 
 Upon their emanations have our minds 
 
 Long fed and thriven. Wherefore, wherefore then, 
 
 We ask, must these fruit-bearers, by the wind 
 Uprooted be to die like common men ? 
 
 To die; to pass away; to form no more 
 
 A visible part of earth's inhabitants; 
 Leaving but foot-prints on life's trampled shore 
 
 To guide affection to their favorite haunts. 
 
 Oh, mystery of mysteries! we cry, 
 
 Amazed. Are these in truth all that remains 
 
 Of those bright beings, who aspired so high 
 
 That Genius crowned them in his own domains ? 
 
 No, no. They live, they love, they labor still; 
 
 Our spiritual vision well perceives 
 How, governed by a wise, long-chastened will, 
 
 They shape for use the fabric Destiny weaves. 
 
370 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 God lays a charge upon them to convey 
 His precious seeds of truth unto our care. 
 
 We are their wards; they guard us all the way 
 
 From earth's cloud-realms to regions bright and fair. 
 
 THE ENFRANCHISED SPIRIT. 
 
 THEY buried my corse 'neath the graveyard sod, 
 And they fancied, poor souls, that I slumbered there; 
 That their floors would no more by my feet be trod, 
 
 That their sorrows and joys I no more would share. 
 Ah! they little dreamed, while they wended home 
 
 So silent and sad from the funeral rites, 
 That my spirit, then free through the heaven's to roam, 
 Went with them and sang of its new delights. 
 
 On the threshold I stood and embraced them all, 
 
 As they entered the mansion, one by one, 
 And I heard them whisper, " How gloomy the hall! 
 
 How lonely the chambers now she is gone!" 
 For they saw me not, though I looked on them 
 
 With a clearer vision than ever before, 
 Nor heard, though I called them all by name, 
 
 And murmured sweet love-words, o'er and o'er. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 37] 
 
 I kissed their cheeks, and I laid my hand 
 
 In tender caressment upon each brow; 
 But they thought it was only the wind that fanned 
 
 Their faces, and caused them to shiver so. 
 O friends, loved friends, how long must I wait 
 
 For your minds to receive me with trust and faith ? 
 Fain I'd show you eternity's open gate, 
 
 And the bridge life has built o'er the river of death. 
 
 Fain I'd teach you how bright is the heavenly land 
 
 To those who have walked with their conscience here; 
 To those who have striven to understand 
 
 And obey the laws of their own true sphere. 
 Death is only a transposition of life, 
 
 You'll rejoice in this truth ere long, my friends; 
 'Tis a peace that closes the reign of strife, 
 
 A sunshine that gleams where the shadow ends. 
 
 TO MINNEHAHA. 
 
 O FICKLE star, why change you so ? 
 Why shine with such uncertain light ? 
 Why mock the eyes that seek your glow 
 Amid the flashing orbs of night ? 
 
 Be fixed and faithful in your sphere, 
 For wandering stars their glory lose; 
 
 Strive to excel in goodness, dear, 
 
 Nor love's nor friendship's trust abuse. 
 
37' 
 
 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 Then shall your fame be wafted far 
 To realms above your mortal ken, 
 
 And you shall gleam, beloved star, 
 Undimmed in virtue's diadem. 
 
 PRAYER FOR SLEEP. 
 
 INNOCENT sleep, rest-giving sleep, 
 Over my wandering senses creep. 
 Shut out the world from my weary eyes, 
 Calm the rude billows that break in sighs 
 Over the deep sea of my soul, 
 Hold them awhile 'neath thy firm control. 
 
 Innocent sleep, merciful sleep, 
 
 Let me not tear-sodden vigils keep. 
 Slow was the closing of wakeful day, 
 Now, 'mid the shadows of eve, I pray, 
 Pray for forgiveness of past misdeeds, 
 Pray for the peace which my sad heart needs. 
 
 Innocent sleep, pitying sleep, 
 Quickly my brain in thy rich balm steep. 
 Angel, resist not my fond appeal, 
 Let me thy shadowy presence feel. 
 Now, 'neath the spell of thy spirit kiss, 
 Float I away to the realms of bliss. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 373 
 
 THE RECALL. 
 
 HOPE, thou light of my youth, come back. 
 Why hast thou flown from my heart away? 
 Fain would I follow thy shining track, 
 But, ah! doubt-terrors my feet delay. 
 
 The morn is joyless, and sad the eve, 
 And dreary existence unblest by thee. 
 
 Beneath the willows I lie and grieve, 
 Oh! light of my soul come back to me. 
 
 Canst thou forever the heart forsake 
 
 Thou'st tended so kindly in days of old ? 
 
 Oh canst thou leave it alone to break 
 With pain in the shadows dark and cold ? 
 
 Ah no! the rush of thy coming wings 
 
 I hear, and thy smiling face I see. 
 Dear Hope, the crown of all lovely things, 
 
 Forever, forever abide with me. 
 
374 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 THE COMING OF DAY. 
 
 WHAT is that light? It is the dawn. 
 Swift is the march of glorious Day. 
 The breezes on yon eastern hills 
 
 Now with her streaming tresses play. 
 
 The waiting flowers prepare to bathe 
 Her sunny feet in fragrant dew. 
 
 To honor her the sky puts on 
 Her trailing robe of softest blue. 
 
 The very trees sing anthems. Hark! 
 
 How swell those changeful notes of joy! 
 Nay, for among their foliage green 
 
 Sit feathered minstrels shy and coy. 
 
 They are the choir of Nature; they 
 
 Attend the Day in her career, 
 Nor tire of their allotted task 
 
 Through the long summer of the year. 
 
 The Day puts on her regal crown, 
 Her dazzling jewel, called the sun, 
 
 And, leaning on Perfection's arm, 
 Reviews the mighty works begun 
 
EARLY POEMS. 375 
 
 And finished by that autocrat 
 
 Of constant changes, known as Time; 
 
 So keeps the Day a strict survey 
 Of her domains in every clime. 
 
 THE SUMMONS. 
 
 LISTEN to the mighty call 
 Uttered by an outraged nation; 
 Friends of Virtue, friends of Peace, 
 Up, nor let your efforts cease 
 Till Intemperance shall fall 
 
 Crushed and helpless from his station. 
 
 By the cruel, shameless crimes; 
 By the loathsome, foul diseases 
 He has nurtured; by the care, 
 Terror, anguish and despair 
 Of his victims, in these times, 
 
 From which nought but death releases; 
 
 By the hosts of baby forms, 
 So defenceless, all around us, 
 Who rely upon our skill 
 To direct them, on our will 
 To protect them from life's storms 
 And the evils that surround us; 
 
376 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 We most solemnly do swear, 
 In the hearing of immortals, 
 
 That Intemperance shall be driven 
 From our land with aid of Heaven 
 That unto man's earnest prayer 
 Ever opes its blessed portals. 
 
 East, and West, and North, and South, 
 Help to swell the thrilling chorus! 
 Woman's heart, by anguish wrung, 
 Lends persuasion to her tongue; 
 May God's teachings through her mouth 
 Soon a purer world restore us. 
 
 CHANGE. 
 
 CHANGE! Ah, yes; all things change — all life is change. 
 Then marvel not if I regard it strange 
 That thou shouldst, with such passianate earnestness, 
 Declare 'twill henceforth be thy heaven to bless 
 My being with a worship that shall last 
 Until eternity itself is passed; 
 Until the star-gems of the sky serene 
 Are classed among the things that once have been. 
 Too oft I've seen how closest ties of love 
 Are loosed by time, and though at first 'twould move 
 The heart to sadness but to say, good-bye, 
 'Tis breathed at last without the faintest sigh. 
 Change! Ah, yes; all things change — all life is change! 
 
EARLY POEMS. 377 
 
 ST. VALENTINE. 
 
 Beware! beware! 
 The mischievous St. Valentine 
 Is coming; you may read the sign 
 Of his approach in many a face 
 Aglow with mirth, and you may trace 
 His herald's footsteps everywhere; 
 Now of yourselves have special care, — 
 
 Beware! beware. 
 
 Take care! take care! 
 He is a thief, this Valentine; 
 A thief of hearts, though so benign 
 And innocent his face appears 
 You'd never dream of harboring fears 
 Because of him. Ah! well you know 
 My warning's virtue time will show, — 
 
 Beware! Beware! 
 
37^ EARLY POEMS. 
 
 THE EXILE TO HER NATIVE LAND. 
 
 LAND of my nativity, 
 Hear thy exiled child's repining, 
 Destined never more to see 
 Sunlight on thy waters shining 
 As once it shone in earlier years 
 E'er came life's struggles, doubts and fears. 
 
 Fate willed that we must part; and oh! 
 
 Mother, thy child remembers well, 
 Though 'tis a long, long time ago, 
 The anguish of that last farewell, 
 When, watching thy receding coast, 
 The last faint point of land was lost. 
 
 Home beloved, mid blinding tears 
 Left I thy green shores forever, 
 Knowing well the coming years 
 Would to thee restore me never, — 
 That I with joy should wander o'er 
 Thy fragrant fields no more, no more. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 379 
 
 SWEET HOME. 
 
 SWEET home! sweet home! thou dearest place 
 That mortals know on earth, 
 When smiles each dear familiar face 
 About thy hallowed hearth. 
 Ah! little reck we till we roam 
 Afar, how prized thou art, sweet home. 
 
 Sweet home! sweet home! what happy rest, 
 
 What sympathy we meet 
 When care-worn, or with grief oppressed, 
 We seek thy calm retreat. 
 
 For hither love and friendship come 
 To cheer and comfort us, sweet home! 
 
 Sweet home! upon thy walls are hung 
 
 Pictures that none can see 
 Save those whose memories long have clung 
 Devotedly to thee, 
 
 Who read, recorded in thy tome, 
 Their family histories, sweet home! 
 
380 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 THE RETURNED WANDERER. 
 
 WELCOME her home again, poor, weary child! 
 For years an outcast, by the world reviled. 
 Long has she wandered in her loneliness, 
 Cheered by no loving word, no fond caress. 
 How great has been her need we cannot know, 
 For in her heart she shut her voiceless woe, 
 And placed a guide called Silence at the door, 
 So that no one might enter to explore 
 Its secret cells and passages. Ah! well; 
 The story of her life we may not tell. 
 
 He only comprehends her who from far 
 
 Has watched her constantly — has seen the war 
 
 Of passions in her nature — who, while low 
 
 She kneels at last, with clasped hands on her brow, 
 
 And calls upon His name in pleading tones, 
 
 Draws near and lifts her from the cruel stones, 
 
 And lays her aching head upon His breast, 
 
 And soothes and bears her gently home to rest, 
 
 Where angels welcome her — the blessed child — 
 
 To peace, to love, to virtue reconciled. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 381 
 
 THE BEREAVED MOTHER. 
 
 "/^"\ LET me weep! 'tis my comfort. 
 \^J Friends, in these tears God is drowning 
 All my rebellious feelings. 
 
 " I have, in madness of passion, 
 Bitterly, fiercely reproached Him 
 With my wrecked heart's desolation. 
 
 11 Look! in the casket beside me 
 Lies the fair bud, all unfolded, 
 Given so late to my keeping. 
 
 "In the cold earth they will lay it, 
 Shut from its vision forever 
 All the bright things it rejoiced in. 
 
 " What though you tell me its spirit, 
 Cradled in Purity's bosom, 
 Waits for my slow-footed coming. 
 
 " Tis but a baby, and therefore 
 Clamorous its wants are and endless, 
 Who like a mother can stay them ? 
 
382 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 "Oh! the impassible distance 
 
 Stretching 'twixt me and my darling. 
 " Love in the future shall bridge it. 
 
 "Only trust God, and have patience; 
 Christ will the cross of affliction 
 Lift from thy overborne shoulders." 
 
 "Christ! O my brother, my Savior! 
 Tender, compassionate Spirit, 
 Let me draw near to thy presence. 
 
 " Meekly resigned to all changes, 
 Humble, and trustful, and useful 
 May I become in the future." 
 
 THE MOUNT OF TRUTH. 
 
 OH the beautiful dreams of my youth, 
 How they faded and faded away, 
 As I drew near the rocky mount of Truth 
 At the close of a Summer's day. 
 
 And the mantle that Fancy wove 
 
 In rainbow colors so bright 
 Was torn to shreds by the winds that rushed 
 
 From their lodge on that mountain's height. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 383 
 
 I sang as my feet drew nigh 
 
 The temple that Truth had reared, 
 And these were the words that my lips outpoured 
 
 To the spirit so stern and weird. 
 
 " O Truth, art thou worth the cost ? 
 Art thou worthy the sacrifice 
 Of blossoming faiths, and budding hopes, 
 And the lovelight of trustful eyes ? 
 
 " What recompense canst bestow 
 On thy votary's troubled heart ? 
 Wilt thou make its clamorous yearnings cease, 
 And its wild unrest depart ? 
 
 " The world is not what it seemed 
 Before thou didst touch mine eyes, 
 And each step I take in thy wide domains 
 Awakens some sad surprise. 
 
 "Say! is it not better to dwell 
 
 With Falsehood in sweet content, 
 Then to walk with thee and behold, aghast, 
 The veil of her mysteries rent ? 
 
 " Her silken-robed lies revealed 
 
 To the gaze of the jeering world ? 
 
 Her hoarded treasures and costly toys 
 
 To the beast, Oblivion, hurled ? " 
 
384 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 "O fool!" cried a thrilling voice, 
 " Could thy mind be satisfied 
 With the baubles of thy infant days 
 Nor struggle for aught beside ? 
 
 " Come with me; my ways are rough, 
 And my hand is hard, I know, 
 But I'll strengthen thy frame, and bind the wreath 
 Of Wisdom about thy brow. 
 
 " I'll lead thee where healthy springs 
 Of pleasure bedew the rock, 
 Where shade and sunshine together play 
 Neath branches that interlock. 
 
 " Thou shalt see with my perfect eyes, 
 And hear through my well-skilled ears, 
 And the knowledge thou'lt gain, of experience born, 
 Will banish thy gloomy fears. 
 
 " As little as knows the germ 
 
 Of the oak tree that upward tends, 
 Know'st thou of thy future growth, my child; 
 Beginnings foresee not ends." 
 
EARLY POEMS. 385 
 
 THE WARNING CRY. 
 
 HARK! from the watchers on the towers 
 Descends this warning cry: 
 " Prepare ye, for the tempest lowers, 
 The storm is drawing nigh. 
 Make strong your dwelling that ye may 
 Not yield yourselves an easy prey. 
 
 " Build ye on Truth's eternal rock, 
 
 That you may never fail 
 To meet, unmoved, the rudest shock 
 
 Of Bigotry's fierce gale. 
 Stand firm; the shrieking winds shall cease 
 
 Ere long and leave your homes in peace. 
 
 " Have faith in God, whose banner is 
 By stout Progression borne; 
 Full soon its flaming folds shall kiss 
 
 The bright millenial morn. 
 Make strong your dwellings till that time 
 The dawning of the age sublime." 
 
386 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 DREAM ON, FAIR NATURE. 
 
 DREAM on, fair Nature, day dreams and night dreams; 
 In the still moments generate thought-buds 
 That, soon unfolding into bright blossoms, 
 
 Shall give rich promise of perfect fruitage 
 When the great Future bids to the harvest 
 
 Life's many laborers, strong-limbed and sturdy. 
 
 Dream on, fair Nature, till the loud summons 
 
 Of wakeful Duty calls thee to action. 
 Then in the footsteps of high Progression 
 
 Lead the procession of eager mortals. 
 Lo! they are thronging countless in numbers; 
 
 Lead them to Virtue, guide them to Wisdom. 
 
EARLV POKMS. 387 
 
 TO THE WOULD-BE DOORKEEPERS OF 
 HEAVEN. 
 
 OYE vain, presumptuous mortals, 
 Who, self-seeking, 
 Claim to hold the keys of Heaven 
 In your keeping; 
 
 Who would fain prevent our gazing 
 
 At its splendor; 
 Ordering that we first before you, 
 
 Homage render; 
 
 See you not how God is working 
 
 In the mind 
 Of humanity ? Examine, 
 
 And you'll find 
 
 Men are kinder to each other 
 
 Everywhere; 
 More desirous that life's blessings 
 
 All should share. 
 
 As the green fruits grow and ripen, 
 
 Thus they ponder; 
 If all souls in God are equal 
 
 Over yonder. 
 
388 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 Then they never were unequal, 
 Save in seeming, 
 
 Ere the lamp of understanding 
 Bright was gleaming. 
 
 When the clouds disperse that mortal 
 
 Vision bar, 
 We shall see how good and useful 
 
 All things are. 
 
 We shall learn how in their orbits 
 
 All things tend 
 Toward His refined perfection, 
 
 In the end. 
 
 EXPECTANCY. 
 
 O DAWNING day of happiness! 
 Make haste, make haste — how slow thou art- 
 And banish from my lonely heart 
 Its darkness and distress. 
 
 O sun of beauty, love and light, 
 
 Arise! arise! my soul awaits 
 
 Thy coming, through morn's pearly gates, 
 With ardor and delight. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 389 
 
 O day make haste! O sun arise! 
 
 Walk ye together, faithfully, 
 And scatter, from the brightening skies, 
 
 Your smiles of joy on me. 
 
 I've waited long, and still I wait 
 Your coming with impatient sighs. 
 
 Why linger? Why delay so late ? 
 O day make haste! O sun arise! 
 
 BEAR UP. 
 
 BEAR up, bear up, O sinking heart, 
 Though threatening waves surround thee now, 
 A sunbeam stoops to kiss thy brow 
 And bid thy fears depart. 
 
 Oh yield not weakly to despair! 
 
 Put forth thy strength, the land is near 
 Where loving friends and kindred dear 
 
 For thee a feast prepare. 
 
 O struggling heart, despond no more! 
 
 The very waves thou fearest so 
 Are bearing thee with steady flow 
 
 Toward the sheltering shore; 
 
390 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 Toward the verdant, flower crowned-height 
 Where thou shalt find thy longed-for rest, 
 Where love and friendship, truest, best, 
 
 Shall tend thee with delight. 
 
 FROM BEHIND THE VEIL. 
 
 FROM behind the veil they're calling, 
 Spirit voices, sweet and clear, 
 Dew-like are their love-words falling 
 
 On the soul's attentive ear. 
 Kind advice, and friendly warning, 
 
 Blessings pure as untrod snow, 
 Angels shower on mortals yearning 
 Life's mysterious ways to know. 
 
 Yet the Sceptic, in his blindness, 
 
 Drives them from his heart away, 
 Spurns their proffered aid and kindness, 
 
 Draws night's curtain o'er his day 
 Friends he loved, when roughly shapen 
 
 In the flesh they met his eyes, 
 Mourn in spirit, lone, forsaken, 
 
 While their presence he denies. 
 
 Children of this age of wonder, 
 Would you in God's likeness grow, 
 
 Rend the olden bands asunder 
 That restrain your reason now. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 391 
 
 Let your free minds draw magnetic 
 
 Draughts from nature's wisdom spring, 
 
 That you may in strains prophetic 
 Of the blessed future sing. 
 
 THE UNSEEN POWER. 
 
 THERE'S a power in the land 
 That no man can understand, 
 Though he feels its mighty influence in his soul; 
 It invigorates the weak, 
 Causes timid lips to speak 
 And bear witness to God's infinite control. 
 Wake! wake! wake! the call of Duty 
 Rings like a trumpet through the air; 
 Who will follow where he leads ? 
 Who will help to sow the seeds — 
 The precious seeds of Temperance everywhere ? 
 
 There s a glory of the sun 
 
 When the dawn her course has run, 
 And a glory of the stars at midnight time; 
 
 But far brighter is the glow 
 
 Which the sainted spirits know 
 Who have risen through a martyrdom sublime. 
 Wake! wake! wake! the call of Duty 
 
392 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 Rings like a trumpet through the air; 
 Who will follow where he leads ? 
 Who will help to sow the seeds — 
 The precious seeds of Temperance everywhere ? 
 
 THE CHILDREN'S HYMN. 
 
 HEAR US O FATHER. 
 
 OTHOU great eternal Spirit, 
 Floating in the Summer air, 
 Breathing in the fragrant petals 
 
 Of the flowers so fresh and fair, — 
 Hear us, while, in adoration 
 
 Of thy goodness and thy love, 
 We strive to raise our childish voices 
 To thy purer courts above. 
 
 Hear us, O our Father, hear us! 
 
 To thy little ones attend; 
 Let Thy angels safely guide us 
 
 To our earthly journey's end. 
 
 We have long in Thee confided, 
 And we fondly trust Thee now, 
 
 For Thy loving arms are round us, 
 And Thy throne is on each brow. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 393 
 
 And Thy smile beams on the faces 
 Of our friends and playmates dear, 
 
 While blended with their well-known voices 
 Thy melodious tones we hear. 
 
 Hear us, O our Father, etc. 
 
 Bless our ardent aspirations, 
 
 Grant Thy children's fervent prayer, 
 Let us 'neath Truth's snowy banner 
 
 Falsehood's haughty minions dare. 
 Make us Virtue's true apostles, 
 
 Messengers of Love divine, 
 And, O our Father, let our wishes 
 
 Ever harmonize with Thine. 
 
 Hear us, O our Father, etc. 
 
 DEAR ANGEL OF PURITY. 
 
 DEAR angel of Purity, dwell in my heart, 
 And brush all the cobwebs of passion away; 
 Thy beautiful presence can gently impart 
 
 An influence more sweet than the breath of the May. 
 Oh spread not thy pinions to leave me in pain, 
 
 Thou daughter of God, thou beloved of His soul, 
 Whose virtuous nature could gather no stain 
 Though floods of corruption should over thee roll. 
 
394 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 Dear Angel of Purity, shine from afar 
 
 Through the gloom that envelops this world's lower 
 spheres; 
 Be thou to mankind as a true guiding star, 
 
 To lead them still higher where sunlight appears. 
 Where Holiness dwelleth, where Peace sits enshrined, 
 
 Where sin fades away in Perfection's clear light; 
 O daughter of God! thou art patient and kind, 
 
 Go, lead all poor wanderers out of the night. 
 
 Go into the highways and byways of earth, 
 
 Where lost ones are groping 'mong pitfalls their way; 
 Tell how fair is the region where thou hadst thy birth, 
 
 Where no evil can bide, where no good can decay. 
 Be sure though some heed not thy eloquent voice 
 
 'Twill echo around them by day and by night, 
 And, daughter of God, thou shalt sometime rejoice 
 
 To welcome them all in thy realm of delight. 
 
 LIFE'S DISCORDS. 
 
 DISCORDS arise sometimes whose mission is 
 To shake with tempest stre»gth the passive soul, 
 And make the ensuing melody appear 
 More exquisite by contrast. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 395 
 
 I LOVE YOU. 
 
 I LOVE you! In the whole wide range 
 Of human speech can there be found 
 Another sentence that conveys 
 
 To listening ears so sweet a sound ? 
 
 I love you ? Simple, strong and true, 
 The words united form a chain 
 
 That, welded round two kindred souls. 
 No force may rend apart again. 
 
 LILY OF THE VALLEY. 
 
 GRACEFUL, dainty little beauty, 
 Folded in thy cloak of green, 
 Breathing out thy soul in fragrance 
 
 Presence felt but never seen," 
 Type thou art of spotless virtue 
 
 Hidden in the human mind, 
 
 Pouring forth its heavenly odors 
 
 Grateful to the sense refined. 
 
,96 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 ACROSTIC. 
 
 TWINKLING in the azure space, 
 Hangs an object fraught with grace. 
 Eve for us unveils its face. 
 
 Ever full of light and motion, 
 
 Voyager on a boundless ocean, 
 
 Enters it no port of rest; 
 
 Neither hasting nor delaying 
 
 In its course, Heaven's will obeying, 
 
 Night, her precious gems displaying 
 
 Guards this jewel on her breast. 
 
 Shine on; let thy lambent lustre 
 Thrill our pulses from afar 
 As our thoughts at twilight clustre 
 Round thy path, fair Evening Star. 
 
 MUSIC. 
 
 MUSIC, although invisible, has power 
 Of voice to urge men to heroic deeds. 
 Ay, all forgetful of their life's rich dower, 
 They rush to death with ardor when she leads. 
 
EARLY POEMS. 397 
 
 PROVIDENCE. 
 
 IN the household of our Father, 
 Oh, what wonders are transpiring 
 Where around His work looms gather 
 
 Busy hands and feet untiring! 
 Fleecy robes of starlight tender 
 
 For the great world's future wearing; 
 Bridal veil of sunbeams splendor 
 For chaste Pysche's use preparing. 
 
 Lone one, through earth deserts ranging, 
 
 Bearing still the cross of duty, 
 Lo! within your arms 'tis changing — 
 
 Melting into wraiths of beauty — 
 Into love's reward of merit 
 
 That shall crown your long endeavor 
 When from your enfranchised spirit 
 
 Slip the irksome chains forever. 
 
398 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 VITTORIA! 
 
 Sweet! sweet! 
 Bird of the woodland, swinging so airily 
 
 High on the tree's topmost bough, 
 Piping, warbling, trilling so merrily, 
 Hist! I will sing for you now. 
 Sweet! sweet! 
 
 Joy! joy! 
 Far through the ether, higher and higher, 
 
 Even to the rim of the sun, 
 Soars my glad spirit on wings of desire, 
 Chanting of victory won. 
 Joy! joy! 
 
 Sweet! sweet! 
 Birdie for thee and for me life unending; 
 
 Death and defeat are no more; 
 Now are our paeons of thankfulness blending 
 With those on eternity's shore. 
 Sweet! sweet!