Class fS'55 37 _ 
 
 Copyright ]^^ - 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 
 
POEMS 
 
POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCES M. SHARPLESS 
 
 PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION 
 
 BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 1911 
 

 COPYRIGHT, 19 1 1, BY PRANCES M. WHITE 
 
 ©CIA289592 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGV 
 
 Regret 7 
 
 " I Will Forget Thee!— Yes, in the Grave— for the Dead Remem- 
 ber Not" 9 
 
 I'm Watching H 
 
 " I Have Never Received an Arrow with a Barb " 11 
 
 Charity 13 
 
 Woman's Glory 13 
 
 The Voice of the Pine 14 
 
 Smile Upon Me 16 
 
 Little Nellie 17 
 
 Household Sorrow 19 
 
 "Tarry With Me" 20 
 
 " Our Angel Walks Still Behind Us and Bears Our Sorrows and 
 
 Sins " 23 
 
 Idealine 23 
 
 Tide of Time 25 
 
 " In the Grave There is Sleep " 27 
 
 Translation of Lamartine's "Le Lac" 27 
 
 The Shadow 30 
 
 "I Must Sleep Now" 31 
 
 Love 32 
 
 Cardiphonia 33 
 
 Song of the Aged 34 
 
 Household Martyrs 34 
 
 "What ShaU I Swear By?" 3€ 
 
 Wonderings 37 
 
 When the Roses Bloomed 38 
 
 " Will You Tread the Long Path with Me? " 39 
 
 Peace 41 
 
 A Vigil 43 
 
Lines Written on My Twenty-first Birthday 43 
 
 On My Twenty-third Birthday 45 
 
 I Love My Love 46 
 
 Thoughts Suggested by a Picture of " Twilight " 48 
 
 To R. F. P 49 
 
 Concealed Love 50 
 
 The Two Smiles 51 
 
 •' Only Waiting " 52 
 
 The Tryst 54 
 
 The Step on the Stair 55 
 
 To Time 57 
 
 To Time— 1858 58 
 
 Chasing a Shadow 60 
 
 " To be Wroth with One We Love " 61 
 
 Christmas— 1863 62 
 
 Pennsylvania 64 
 
 Pro Patriae 65 
 
 A Little Red Rose 67 
 
 Song 68 
 
 Profile Mountain 69 
 
 Sunset 70 
 
 Violets at the Opera 71 
 
 My Bird 72 
 
 A Cathedral Sermon 75 
 
 Meadow Daisies 77 
 
 The Argynnis Cybele Butterfly 78 
 
 Growing Old 79 
 
 A Parable 80 
 
 The Seasons 81 
 
 At Sea. i 82 
 
 Storm on the Hills 84 
 
 Up the Rhine 84 
 
 The Taj Mahal 86 
 
 Greeting to the New Year 88 
 
 Day-Dawn 89 
 
 Reconciliation 90 
 
 The Soul's Companions 91 
 
 The First Robin 93 
 
 4 
 
Not in Vain ^* 
 
 Happiness ^* 
 
 Mother Earth ^^ 
 
 Light '. 98 
 
 Flower of Spring 9* 
 
 Easter ^^ 
 
 Midnight 1^^ 
 
 The Inn 1^^ 
 
 The Golden Rod 1^ 
 
 A Foolish Child 10« 
 
 The Lesson of St. Macareus ^^"^ 
 
 Morning Among the Hills HI 
 
 Encouragement 11^ 
 
 The Little While 113 
 
 A City Fernery H* 
 
 Thanksgiving H^ 
 
 A HiUside Spring 116 
 
 My Desire H^ 
 
 Discontented H^ 
 
 My Mocking Bird H^ 
 
 Gathered 1^0 
 
 The Escaped Bird 1^1 
 
 The Advice of Chaucer— Modernized 122 
 
 Last Friends 123 
 
 To My Sister R. S. B 123 
 
 Uhland's Death of a Country Pastor 124 
 
 The Pyxie of the Pine Barrens 125 
 
 A Night Song 126 
 
 Rose and Rainbow 12T 
 
 In Memory of S. J. W 128 
 
 The Chrysalis 130 
 
 The Unspeakable Gift 130 
 
 A Protest 131 
 
 Love's Choice 132 
 
 Epictetus 132 
 
 An Appeal 133 
 
 Jacob's Appeal 135 
 
 The Wounded Eagle 136 
 
 5 
 
Roses 137 
 
 " Enfants Perdu " , 138 
 
 " We are the Old Women of To-day " 138 
 
 Whom He Loveth He Chasteneth 139 
 
 Steadfast in Courage 140 
 
 The Return 141 
 
 A New Year Hymn 143 
 
 The Tale of a Ship 143 
 
 The Unreturning 144 
 
 The Answer of Earth 145 
 
 E'en at Joy's Feast 146 
 
 Columbus 147 
 
 "As a Little Child" 148 
 
 Petitions 149 
 
 " The Song of the Lark " 150 
 
 The One Refuge 151 
 
 Cui Bono ! 152 
 
 The Crowned Corinne 155 
 
 A Message from Paradise 157 
 
 Along the Path of Sorrow 158 
 
REGRET 
 
 The spell of another life has bound me 
 As the twilight shadows thickly fall. 
 
 And memories sweet and sad surround me; 
 Memories I can but half recall. 
 
 Away in the misty hum of noises 
 
 Lie the wearying cares of the world without. 
 
 But the murmurs of gentle spirit-voices 
 Within my chamber are floating about; 
 
 And my soul with a thrill of repentant yearning 
 Rests in the twilight land of shade; 
 
 Away from the world, heart-sick I'm turning 
 To mourn o'er the early wrecks I have made — 
 
 Wrecks of the good, the better hours 
 Granted to me by the Love of God; 
 
 Wrecks of the pure celestial flowers 
 
 I've trampled upon my ambitious road; 
 
 Wrecks of the holiest, deepest feeling 
 In light unthought I have cast aside, 
 
 And the gentle regret for their lot, when stealing 
 O'er my heart, was crushed by a stormy pride. 
 7 
 
The spell of another life is round me, 
 
 A spell I cannot nor dare resist, 
 And the ghosts of murdered hours surround me, 
 
 Glooming pale thro* the chilling mist. 
 
 A cross is there — a cross whose shadow 
 Darkened the sunshine in my path. 
 
 As the trees fall athwart the light in a meadow; 
 But I trampled it down in my puny wrath. 
 
 The heavens grew black as the tempest gathered, 
 I felt my idols were cold, too late; 
 
 But I raised my head when the storm I weathered 
 In proud defiance of any fate. 
 
 Thy smile has softened my heart, O Saviour ! 
 
 Meekly I bow where I would not resist; 
 Thou hast redeemed all my sinful behaviour 
 
 On the cross that gleams thro* the lurid mist. 
 
 Thou hast spoken, my soul befriending. 
 The spell of the other life is Thine; 
 
 See, my rebellious neck I am bending 
 To bear a burden Thou'st made divine. 
 
 Now the shadows are slowly fading 
 
 And the mist grows clearer with purer light. 
 
 And upon the clouds that my heart are shading 
 Thy cross is shedding a gilding bright. 
 3 
 
I will forget thee!— yes, in the grave — for the dead remember not 
 
 I will forget thee in the silence 
 
 Of the solitary tomb; 
 I will forget thee then forever, 
 
 Memory lightens not its gloom — 
 
 I will forget thee when thy last kiss 
 Freezes on my death-damped brow; 
 
 For the dead — the dead, — remember 
 Not ev'n one so dear as thou. 
 
 Then the link that binds us tightly 
 
 Shall be severed, evermore; 
 Thou wilt linger on without me, 
 
 Alone I pass the mystic shore. 
 
 Not e'en memory will recall thee; 
 
 Thou, thou must be all forgot; 
 Thou wilt weep with sorrow for me, 
 
 But the dead remember not. 
 
 I'll forget thee!! oh! 'tis anguish 
 That this heart must die to thee — 
 
 I can never more forget thee; 
 Death cannot kill memory. 
 
 No! it cannot — power never 
 
 Can desert the active will; 
 And hereafter shall I prove it 
 
 That the dead remember still. 
 
When my eye on life is closing, 
 When it looks its last on thee. 
 
 Then thy star will rise the brighter 
 O'er the grave's drear vacancy. 
 
 What were life, itself, without thee 
 
 When the friends that round me stand 
 
 Smile approval on each action. 
 Listen to my least command? — 
 
 Then 'twere anguish were we parted. 
 But within the sombre gloom 
 
 It were worse than death to linger 
 With no star to gild the tomb. 
 
 He had never known the deepness 
 
 Of immortal love who said 
 That the grave had no remembrance 
 
 Of the living, for the dead. 
 
 I'll remember — ^well thou knowst — 
 While this heart with life shall beat. 
 
 But I'll swear it — ^that I love thee 
 When my life deserts her seat. 
 
 10 
 
I'M WATCHING 
 
 (song) 
 
 Air— "Joys That We've Tasted.'* 
 
 I am watching for thee, love, 
 
 Watching for thee. 
 With a smile on my lips 
 
 And a tear in my *ee. 
 For I'm smiling to think on 
 
 The days of my joy, 
 So rich in life's gladness. 
 
 So little to cloy — 
 
 And my love is so earnest 
 
 Its deep tones are low; 
 Like the cadence in music — 
 
 Soft, solemn and slow. 
 And the tears that are swelling 
 
 Are love's dews for thee. 
 So I'm smiling while waiting 
 
 With tears in my 'ee. 
 
 "I have never received an arrow with a barb 
 
 No arrow with a barb sayst thou, 
 Hath refuge found with thee? 
 
 Then whence that anguish on thy brow 
 That oft-times saddens me? 
 11 
 
I know that pride would bid thee quell 
 Memories thou ever deemest weak^ 
 
 But ah! the tale thou canst not tell 
 
 Thine eye and brow are quick to speak. 
 
 I know that pity brings no balm; 
 
 But surely sympathy like mine 
 So deep, so true, might breathe a calm 
 
 E'en o'er a heart as proud as thine. 
 No confidence I crave from thee. 
 
 No secret that thou fain wouldst keep; 
 Enough to force the tears from me. 
 
 That if it dared, thy heart would weep. 
 
 CHARITY 
 
 Name it softly, very lowly, 
 
 When a brother goes astray, 
 When his wavering footsteps wander 
 
 From the straight and narrow way. 
 Ah, — ye know not, — never can know. 
 
 How the tempter wrought within; 
 Who are you, self-constituted 
 
 Judges for another's sin? 
 
 Ah! in some the blood runs riot. 
 
 Coursing with a fever-heat; 
 Others smile at wild ecstatics. 
 
 As their hearts in calmness beat — 
 12 
 
Disappointments may have bittered 
 Hearts that else had bravely striven- 
 
 Tempters^ bright and angel-robed, 
 May have drawn them from Heaven. 
 
 Whisper softly, whisper lowly. 
 
 That the cold world may not hear; 
 Name his errors with a kindness 
 
 You would use to kindred dear — 
 Let your loving words in mercy 
 
 Drop upon his erring heart; 
 Teach him with your gentlest actions 
 
 How to choose the better part. 
 So at last your love shall win him 
 
 To his lost fold back again: — 
 Whisper softly, very softly, 
 
 When a brother's sin you name. 
 
 WOMAN'S GLORY 
 
 One little star in all the sky 
 Is heralding the coming night; 
 One tiny gem of silver light 
 
 Meets my uplifted eye. 
 
 No cloud is hovering near it now— 
 But, lonely on its azure path. 
 With all the glory that it hath, 
 
 It glideth silently and slow. 
 13 
 
So far above earth's stained soil 
 Should woman's glory ever beam; 
 To cheer with pale but steady gleam, 
 
 Like angel's holy smile. 
 
 THE VOICE OF THE PINE 
 
 The voice of the breeze, — it soundeth 
 Thro' the grand old Silver Pines, 
 
 Like the solemn tone of the ocean, 
 Responsive to stormy winds. 
 
 A thousand thoughts it calleth 
 From the graves of many years. 
 
 Where the hopes of girlhood slumber, 
 Imbalmed in bitter tears. 
 
 The voice of the Pine — it soothed me 
 
 Thro' weary hours of pain. 
 Like my mother's gentle look and smile, 
 
 I ne'er shall know again. 
 
 Beside the ruddy fire I sit. 
 
 In the gray twilight alone; 
 Save the phantoms that round me gather 
 
 At the call of the Pine Tree's moan. 
 14 
 
A step on the walk — it neareth, 
 As always her step would come, 
 
 And I rise, as I hasted in Auld Lang Syne, 
 To welcome the dear one home. 
 
 I gaze wistfully out at the window, 
 
 But darkness meets my eyne; 
 And my heart sinks low, as it knows her step 
 
 Was mocked by the Voice of the Pine. 
 
 Oh, heart ! whose hope, deferred. 
 Sickened and died thro* years. 
 
 Look where the Pine-trees beckon. 
 If thou canst see for tears. 
 
 Look up to the starry heavens, 
 That spread so broad and fair; 
 
 And gird up thy strength to hasten 
 To her who awaits thee there. 
 
 Then the voice of the Pine shall token 
 The sweep of the angel's wing, 
 
 Who shall loosen the cord that binds thee 
 To a life-long sorrowing. 
 
 15 
 
SMILE UPON ME 
 
 Smile upon me, as the shadow 
 Stretcheth longer o'er life's meadow; 
 While the ripples of Time's river 
 Falleth fainter, fainter ever. 
 
 Smile upon me. 
 
 We have lived and loved together 
 Thro' all fair and stormy weather; 
 All our griefs we've shared, save one, 
 This, that thou must bear alone. 
 
 Canst thou smile? 
 
 Will thy heart grow sad and weary 
 Looking on thy path so dreary? 
 Would my smile had power to throw 
 As bright a gilding o'er thy woe 
 
 As thine o'er mine. 
 
 Smile upon me — one by one 
 Break the links that hold me down; 
 And the valley dark appears — 
 Heaven I scarce can see for tears. 
 Yet smile on me. 
 
 Yes, I know thy heart is breaking, 
 For mine own hath heavy aching: 
 I dare not think how sad 'twill be. 
 When thou art here, yet wanting me. 
 Wilt thou smile? 
 16 
 
Now the shadows close around me, 
 Earth itself is fading from me. 
 Yet I would thy smile should be 
 The last of life, of love, I see. 
 
 Smile once more. 
 
 LITTLE NELLIE 
 
 Little Nellie — blue-eyed Nellie, 
 
 Sitting by the river-side. 
 Flinging lilies in the water. 
 
 Laughing at them as they glide — 
 With a heart so pure and sweet 
 That thy emblem seems most meet. 
 In the lilies at thy feet. 
 
 Little Nellie- — fair-haired Nellie, 
 
 Half a child, and half a maid. 
 With the artless grace of girlhood 
 Blending with a graver shade. 
 Oh! fair Nellie, life for thee 
 Seems as fair as fair can be, — 
 And thy eyes but sunshine see. 
 
 For thy path is sheltered close 
 'Neath the fond paternal roof; 
 
 And thy saddest sorrow now 
 Is thy mother's mild reproof — 
 17 
 
Cling thou close unto the nest. 
 That for thee has so much rest- 
 Lean upon thy mother's breast. 
 
 Never shalt thou find a love 
 
 Half as generous, half as pure; 
 Mid the storms, the coming storms. 
 It shall be a post secure. 
 Strew thy lilies on the tide — 
 Let them scatter far and wide, 
 But do thou at home abide. 
 
 HOUSEHOLD SORROW 
 
 A sorrow broods over the household, 
 
 A sorrow still and deep — 
 I feel its presence around my heart 
 
 Like a thrill of suffering creep. 
 
 It hushes the baby's laughing voice, 
 Tho' the child can dream not why; 
 
 But the half smile dies on its rosy lip 
 And a wonder fills its eye. 
 
 I look far out in the sunshine 
 That bathes the earth in light — 
 
 And the voice of nature murmureth low 
 Her manifold delight. 
 18 
 
But the shadow — oh^ close it falleth, 
 
 Thro' the dim and dusky air ; 
 We whisper low^, and with light foot-fall, 
 
 We press the echoing stair. 
 
 And yet so soundly she sleeps above 
 
 In that chamber cold and dim^ 
 No noise from the busy world without 
 
 Can reach her world within. 
 
 The shadow cast from the old pine-trees 
 
 Flickers upon her f ace^ 
 Mocking the play of the features rare. 
 
 In their pure and chiselled grace. 
 
 And the wind stirreth tresses long and brown, 
 
 'Tis but the wind alone — 
 And tears are filling our eyes, to see 
 
 How stilly she sleepeth on. 
 
 The sorrow that broods o'er the household 
 
 Marks every weary brow; — 
 Hers only is quiet and peaceful — 
 
 She heedeth no sorrow now — 
 
 She whose warm heart felt ever 
 
 The woes of other hearts — 
 Whose look of sympathy would draw 
 
 The sting from suffering's darts. 
 19 
 
The shadow over the household — 
 The shadow of Death's pale wing — 
 
 Shall fill our hearts with the dreariness 
 Of a life-long sorrowing. 
 
 "TARRY WITH ME" 
 
 Tarry with me, oh my Saviour, 
 
 Thro' the noon-day's burning heat; — 
 Smile Thy fond approval on me 
 
 As I urge my heavy feet. 
 And as aye the shadows lengthen. 
 
 And the night comes slowly on. 
 Tarry with me, oh Redeemer, 
 
 Till my latest work be done. 
 
 Tarry with me when the night falls 
 
 Dark and cold upon my heart, — 
 And my soul will reap its gladness. 
 
 Kneeling humbly where Thou art. 
 And whene'er the floods rise higher 
 
 Round my lowly, sinking head. 
 Tarry with me then to aid me. 
 
 And I shall not be afraid. 
 
 When the darkness of misfortune 
 Hides the heavens from my eye, 
 
 When the earth wears robes of sorrow, 
 And no blue is in the sky, — 
 20 
 
When one dreary, dreary anguish 
 Comes between my soul and Thee, 
 
 Oh! remove not then Thy presence; 
 Tarry still to comfort me. 
 
 When the tempters loud assail me. 
 
 Imaging a form of light. 
 And my wavering feet are straying 
 
 From the pure, the true, the right. 
 Tarry with me. Thou who suffered. 
 
 And Thy crown of thorns shall be 
 As memento of Thy anguish. 
 
 All endured, oh Christ! for me. 
 
 Tarry with me, tarry with me. 
 
 For the night draws near apace. 
 Death comes fraught with fearful terrors 
 
 If I cannot see Thy Face; — 
 If Thou wilt not. Risen Saviour, 
 
 Make Thy creature still Thy care. 
 Tarry with me, tarry with me; 
 
 This is my most earnest prayer. 
 
 21 
 
** Our angel walks still behind us and bears our sorrows and sins " 
 
 YeSj I'm walking in the shadow 
 
 Of an angel form behind; — 
 And life's long and dreary meadow 
 
 Stretcheth far and undefined ; — 
 And my very heart grows lonely, 
 
 As I'm toiling slowly on 
 
 Towards the distant setting sun. 
 With His Presence near me only. 
 
 And no aspect wears this angel 
 
 Of a cheerful kindly soul, 
 And no songs of high evangel 
 
 From his pale lips ever roll. 
 No, the darkness of his wing 
 
 Casts a shadow still before. 
 
 And my heart throbs free no more, 
 Save in pang of suffering. 
 
 High the holy cross he beareth. 
 
 Clear I see it on my way; — 
 And the crown of thorns he weareth 
 
 Gathers thicker day by day. 
 From my hand the seeds I fling 
 
 That are bearing thorns to him; 
 
 'Tis no royal diadem. 
 Yet he wears it like a king. 
 22 
 
He is mine — my guardian spirit, 
 
 And my sins he bears for me; 
 And my sorrow would inherit 
 
 Could our God e'er let this be. 
 But 'tis sadder, sadder far. 
 
 Than if I alone should go 
 
 With the evil that I do 
 On me, not on this lost star. 
 
 All alone we wander on, 
 
 With our patient hope and trust, 
 With our heads bowed meekly down, 
 
 And our feet amid the dust. 
 Nearer, day by day, we come, 
 
 Where my sins shall be forgiven; 
 
 And my angel in his Heaven 
 Find for both our native Home. 
 
 IDEALINE 
 
 Oh ! I left her where I found her, 
 
 With her maiden glory round her. 
 Like white incense from the heavens, falling on her as she stood. 
 
 And if I had power to charm her 
 
 It would only be to harm her; 
 So I turned away with careless feet and left her in the wood. 
 
 23 
 
Yes, I turned, no look betraying. 
 
 And no word of passion saying. 
 Aught of what was surging wildly, wildly in my heaving breast; 
 
 And my eyes were veiled from telling 
 
 Thoughts and dreams too highly swelling — 
 They could give no joy unto her — they would break her peaceful 
 rest. 
 
 Oh! my heart it clingeth to her. 
 
 And it rich love bringeth to her. 
 But another claims my duty, — and my love can yield no peace, — 
 
 So I left the pure-eyed maiden. 
 
 With a spirit heavy laden. 
 Where the yearning shall be sated only when the life shall cease. 
 
 Were my spirit grown colder. 
 
 Often might my eyes behold her, — 
 And rejoice upon a beauty fairer than the flowers of spring; — 
 
 But my pulses bound to meet her. 
 
 And my eye is quick to greet her 
 With the tender love — rich language that the amorous poets sing. 
 
 So I turned aside, unheeding 
 
 Her sad lips and eyes * mute pleading, — 
 For her heart turned still unto me and she knew not why 'twas so. 
 
 And I stifled into dying. 
 
 Wishes that were loudly crying 
 In my spirit, " Love her, love her, let the frowning future go." 
 
 24 
 
Wild the autumn wind was blowing, 
 
 As I turned from her in going; 
 Like the wail of anguished angels heard I it in my despair. 
 
 And my heart was well-nigh broken. 
 
 Yet no tale-tale word was spoken, — 
 I have left her, fled and left her, my too sweet temptation, there. 
 
 Now all holy angels guard her. 
 
 And a better love reward her 
 Than I ever could have given, — I so wild and strange of mood. 
 
 Yet my life's light gathers round her 
 
 As she stands where erst I found her. 
 All amazed and sorrow-stricken, in the lonely beechen wood. 
 
 TIDE OF TIME 
 
 HoU back, roll back, oh tide of time. 
 
 Upon thy rock-ribbed shore; 
 Give me the friends I knew lang syne. 
 
 But never shall know more. 
 
 Give me the buds of radiant glow. 
 
 Those buds of trust and faith; 
 Brighter than stars they used to blow. 
 
 And lovely e'en in death. 
 
 Give me again the happy heart 
 
 That gathered honey where 
 It uses every searching art 
 
 To garner up despair; 
 25 
 
Give me the fond caressing smile, 
 
 The gentle look, the tone 
 That all my childish woes beguiled; 
 
 Too early are they gone. 
 
 Roll back, relentless tide of time. 
 
 Too many treasures lie 
 Upon that rugged shore of thine 
 
 To pass them careless by. 
 
 Still on, still on, thy steady stream 
 
 Moves to eternity, — 
 And only in my fancy's dream 
 
 Can I these treasures see. 
 
 The shore beyond is gray and rough; 
 
 Behind, it fairer shines, — 
 But I have lingered long enough 
 
 Mid dreams of auld lang syne. 
 
 The future claims my throbbing heart; 
 
 No more of dreams for me ; 
 Friends of my earlier years, we part; 
 
 Our meeting Heaven shall see. 
 
 26 
 
"In the grave there is sleep " 
 
 Oh! breaking heart, restrain thy cries, 
 And cease so bitterly to weep; 
 
 If on the earth no rest is found, 
 'Tis in the grave the weary sleep. 
 
 A dreamless sleep, where memories ne'er 
 Their long and tearful vigils keep, 
 
 Where aching hearts and eyes shall know 
 The blessing of death's holy sleep. 
 
 Oh! long and weary wears the day. 
 And slowly do the shadows creep. 
 
 And ne'er a rest is found save when 
 In the cold grave the weary sleep. 
 
 He giveth peace Wlio giveth toil. 
 And rich rewardings shall we reap 
 
 When, 'neath the glory of His smile. 
 We lay ourselves, at eve, to sleep. 
 
 TRANSLATION OF LAMARTINE'S "LE LAC" 
 
 Oh! driven ever towards a newer shore. 
 
 Upon the tide that hath no ebbing back. 
 On the deep sea of ages, can we never 
 
 Drop one day's anchor on our forward track? 
 
 Oh, peaceful lake! the year hath run its course 
 Since first she came to look upon thy tide, 
 
 27 
 
And I am sitting listless by thy border, 
 
 Alone, where thou hast seen her by my side. 
 Thus didst thou murmur on thy winding way. 
 
 Thus thy waves broke against these rugged rocks. 
 And thus the wind would waft thy foamy flakes 
 
 To bathe her fairy feet with sudden shocks. 
 Dost thou remember one fair even our oars 
 
 Made silvery music in thy plashing stream. 
 While the fir-branches swayed in mournful cadence. 
 
 Like fairy whispers in a fairy dream? 
 Like fairy whispers, with no mortal meaning. 
 
 They woke the echoes of thy charmed shore; 
 *Twas then she sang, whose voice thrilled all my heart-strings. 
 
 And made the silence sweeter than before. 
 
 time, suspend thy flight, and ye, oh happy hours. 
 
 More slowly glide away! 
 Oh, let us drink deep draughts of this sweet life of ours. 
 Our life's bright summer day! 
 
 The sorrow-stricken cry — Oh ! fly ; fly on forever ! — 
 
 Thy feet too slowly creep! 
 Forget the happy in thy kind endeavor — 
 
 To soothe the tears they weep. 
 
 Ah ! all in vain thy rapid wings are flying ; 
 Thou wilt not, wilt not stay. 
 
 1 cry, — O night, speed slowly! Lo! 'tis dying; 
 
 And rosy dawns the day. 
 28 
 
O love, come crown us with thy roses, laying 
 
 No thorns within our perfect happiness! 
 Men have no home — life's stream hath no delaying — 
 
 It ever runs, and onward must we press. 
 Oh! jealous time, couldst thou not spare these moments, 
 
 When Love had filled our cup with bliss supreme? 
 Shouldst thou then fly for us as for the stricken 
 
 Whose hearts are breaking 'neath their heavy pain? 
 Are these hours lost? Have they then left no traces? 
 
 Gone, gone forever, in the dark abyss? 
 Time gave them to us; time hath torn them from us. 
 
 And can we do no more for them than this? 
 O lake of silver, O dark and lonely forests. 
 
 You whom He spares altho' your youth is flown, 
 Guard you of this fair night the fond remembrance. 
 
 And thou, sweet Nature, make the thought thy own! 
 In thy repose and in thy stormy passions, 
 
 Beautiful lake, and in thy smiling shore, 
 In the dark firs and in the rugged black rocks. 
 
 Still let the memory dwell forever more; 
 Still let it speak, in gentle zephyrs breathing. 
 
 And in the echoes murmuring round thy bed, 
 Let it beam forth in the clear star that silvers 
 
 Thj- rippling tide beneath its glory spread; 
 Let it have voices in the reeds that whisper; 
 
 Let it breathe ever where perfumes have roved ; 
 Let every sight and every sound speak gently. 
 
 This fond, this sweet remembrance, ** They have loved.* 
 
 29 
 
THE SHADOW 
 
 Clouds in the dim horizon^ 
 
 And clouds upon my soul. 
 As I list to the wild grief-lulling voice 
 
 Of the wind's tempestuous roll. 
 Gray, gray is the sky above me, 
 
 And gray my life appears; 
 My lonely heart sinks cold and low 
 
 With weight of unshed tears. 
 
 Want and sickness and hunger 
 
 Are dogging me day by day; 
 Real sorrows are these that no reasoning thought 
 
 Of mine can chase away. 
 See! 'tis a shadow moving 
 
 Upon the white-washed wall, — 
 A little shadow, a fleeting shadow, — 
 
 Just passed, and that was all. 
 
 And within an opposite window, 
 
 A form that I know, and knew 
 In the sunny days of my earlier life. 
 
 That fleeting shadow threw. 
 And I know that her eyes are earnest 
 
 With purpose good and pure; 
 And the Faith of Innocent Love shines forth 
 
 From their clear and deep azure. 
 30 
 
And I feel her love around me 
 
 Fall still thro' the heavy air; 
 And it soothes my wearied, worn soul 
 
 Like an angel-tone of prayer. 
 Oh ! yes, and at eve she kneeleth, 
 
 Raising her hands so white; 
 My name on her lips is dwelling 
 
 In her vesper prayer at night. 
 
 That shadow — 'tis gone so quickly — 
 
 And yet a sunny beam 
 Comes thro' the gray clouds around me, 
 
 A joy-imparting gleam. 
 For, oh! while she still can love me 
 
 I'll bravely bear thro' all, 
 And my talisman of faith shall be 
 
 That shadow on the wall. 
 
 "I MUST SLEEP NOW" 
 
 , The Last Words of Byron 
 
 Sleep when the throbbings of life's fitful fever 
 Fall faint and fainter on the anxious ear — 
 
 Then all the ties that bind the Spirit sever. 
 And bid it rise from anguish, and from care. 
 
 Sleep — be it lightly, with no memory waking 
 One fond regret, one throb of earthly pain; 
 
 Still be the heart that suffered nigh to breaking. 
 That ne'er shall suffer human grief again. 
 31 
 
And she, the dearest, she whose image ever 
 
 Shrined in thy heart was purest, and the best — 
 
 Shalt thou then leave this weary world, and never 
 Repose thy head upon a daughter's breast? 
 
 But tho* thy smiles delight with untold gladness. 
 Her mother's heart, to her the riper years 
 
 Will fill her soul with sympathizing sadness. 
 As o'er thy tale she bends with bitter tears. 
 
 Be it for us to name thy errors slowly. 
 
 While Mercy's tears remove the sanguined stain; 
 
 For Death's cold touch hath made thy memory holy,- 
 A thing beyond our judgment or disdain. 
 
 LOVE 
 
 Like no Minerva true love springs to birth; 
 
 Slowly she steals o'er the unwitting heart. 
 
 And, while disdaining falsehood's petty art. 
 She screens herself 'neath friendship's oft-proved worth: 
 She is an angel come to dwell on earth. 
 
 To bring us nearer to the S pirit- world ; 
 Her eyes are telling of celestial lands; 
 
 Her Father's banner o'er her is unfurled; 
 His blessing filleth both her eager hands. 
 
 See! now she knocketh at my spirit's door. 
 
 Enter thou, O ministrant of Heaven, depart thence never more ! 
 
 32 
 
CARDIPHONIA 
 
 Come, spread thy snowy wings. 
 Oh, mild-eyed Peace, above my troubled breast; — 
 
 Breathe of celestial things. 
 And soothe its passions to an hour's rest, — 
 
 One hour of calm repose. 
 Amid the anguish of this chequered life, — 
 
 The rest the warrior knows. 
 To breath him, ere returning to the strife. 
 
 Oh! I am weary, worn; 
 The spring of life is poisoned at its fount; 
 
 My feet tread slowly on 
 The onward way — I have no strength to mount. 
 
 Even in fancy, where 
 Hope beckons with a bright, deluding smile; 
 
 I linger longing here. 
 Marking with tear-drops each far-stretching mile. 
 
 Stoop from thy radiant home. 
 Oh white-winged Peace, and dwell within my breast; 
 
 With olive branches come. 
 And calm its passions to a transient rest. 
 
 33 
 
SONG OF THE AGED 
 
 Toiling ever, wearily on. 
 Longing, still longing, for set of sun; — 
 Onr hands hang heavy, our feet are slow. 
 Treading the path we have yet to go. 
 
 iWeVe wandered far o'er this world of ours. 
 Have sown our seed mid its weeds and flowers; — 
 In the freshness of morning, at noon, at night, 
 ,We have scattered our seed to the left and right, — 
 
 Seeds of discord, and seeds of love. 
 Yet cannot tell what the end vrill prove; — 
 Seeds of plants from the heaven of God, 
 Freely we've sown in our long road. 
 
 Yes, wearily, wearily, toil we on; 
 
 Our labor and toiling are nearly done; 
 
 Our souls are weary as souls can be. 
 
 And the harvest we leave, oh Great Father, with Thee. 
 
 HOUSEHOLD MARTYRS 
 
 There are household martyrs round us. 
 In domestic places dwelling. 
 
 Silent ones whose blighted beauty 
 Of their martyrdom is telling; 
 34 
 
Those whose love and faith grow stronger 
 As the tempest swells around; 
 
 Who so sanctify our homesteads 
 That they make them holy ground. 
 
 Oh! these silent, humble martyrs 
 
 Bear their cross about them still. 
 Crucifying selfish longings 
 
 And the stubborn human will; 
 Bending unto love or duty, 
 
 Or to stern necessity, — 
 Bearing cheerful spirits with them, 
 
 Whatsoe'er their lot may be. 
 
 These are they, God's chosen martyrs, 
 
 Burning bright before His throne. 
 Steady beacons thro' the darkness 
 
 To guide us who stumble on. 
 And altho' no crown of laurel 
 
 May entwine their pallid brow. 
 In men's hearts and homes their place is 
 
 Radiant, there their stars shall glow. 
 
 35 
 
Rom. What shall I swear by ? 
 Jul. Do not swear at all. 
 
 — Romeo and Juliet (Act 2; Scene 2). 
 
 Oh, ask no vows by sky or stars above thee ! 
 
 The sky hath clouds, the stars will fade away; 
 It is enough for me to say, I love thee; 
 
 Then, ask no vows from lip or heart to-day. 
 
 Thou knowst not love if vows are thy requiring, 
 Vows that are born of false and idle breath. 
 
 I am all thine, — to all of thy desiring, — 
 Ah, if thou lovest, have a little faith. 
 
 Nay, pledge me none, lift up thine eyes to greet me. 
 And in their gaze I'll read thy constancy; 
 
 They are too true in all their haste to greet me. 
 To bid me cherish any fear of thee. 
 
 He who would find his jewel all sustained. 
 Must cast no shadow from his spirit there; 
 
 Then all its pristine light will be retained. 
 The light it caught in Heaven's upper air. 
 
WONDERINGS 
 
 I wonder why there comes so oft 
 A certain mild^ bewitching spell. 
 
 That binds me in its bonds so soft, — 
 Ah! who can tell? 
 
 I wonder why each bird that sings. 
 
 Each flower that meets my gladdened eye, 
 
 A dream of fairy rapture brings, — 
 I wonder why? 
 
 The sunlight quivering in the grass. 
 
 The murmur of a water-fall, 
 The shadows that so lightly pass, 
 
 'Where bright beams fall, — 
 
 The thousand sights and wordless sounds 
 Thrill all my heart with pleasure wild. 
 
 Till with a painful joy it bounds, 
 Like a thralled child. 
 
 Dim visions of a higher life 
 
 Come thronging o*er my panting soul. 
 These lives of mine wage woful strife 
 
 Beyond control. 
 
 I only know, I only feel. 
 
 This silent joy, the ecstasy 
 That words are powerless to reveal: — 
 
 I wonder why? 
 
 37 
 
WHEN THE ROSES BLOOMED 
 
 'Twas when the roses bloomed. 
 
 One little year ago. 
 That she lay smiling on my breast, 
 
 Who sleepeth where they grow. 
 
 One little year! so much to me 
 This little year has taught! 
 
 Tho* 'tis as yet so fresh a thing, 
 *Tis feeling more than thought. 
 
 So sweet a joy she gave to me. 
 My heart throbbed low in fear. 
 
 That bliss so perfect as mine own 
 Not long should bless me here. 
 
 But when the angels took her back, 
 
 I felt 'twas fitter given, 
 That such a treasure as this was 
 
 Were sheltered safe in Heaven. 
 
 And when I think how oft my heart. 
 
 Its heavy weight beneath. 
 Sighs that it had not passed away 
 
 Thro' gates of birth to death, 
 
 I would not for my selfish love 
 
 Reverse her early doom. 
 But bless the happiness I felt 
 
 When last the roses bloomed. ^ - ' 
 
 33 
 
" Will you tread the long path with me ? " 
 
 Thro* the long path I'll walk with thee. 
 Clasped closely hand in hand; 
 
 'Neath the same sky, o'er the same way. 
 By the same breezes fanned. 
 
 Whether thro* pleasant paths it lie. 
 Gladdened by springing flowers. 
 
 Or whether thro* the barren plains 
 Shall stretch this path of ours. 
 
 Beneath the sunlight or the shade, 
 I'll tread its maze with thee, 
 
 Happy in knowing *neath the cloud 
 Thou'lt have more need of me, 
 
 I lay a trusting hand in thine. 
 
 My feet are firmly set 
 Upon the path that lies beyond 
 
 The spot where we have met. 
 
 I only ask, in yielding up 
 
 This maiden life of mine, 
 I only ask for all my heart 
 
 The love, the truth, of thine. 
 
 I ask thy perfect trust to shed 
 
 A holy light o'er both; 
 Or else distrust will oft disturb 
 
 Our newly plighted troth. 
 39 
 
I ask thee, with beseeching eyes. 
 
 For patient tenderness. 
 When tears thou canst not comprehend 
 
 Nor all my power repress. 
 
 Fall from the eyes I try to raise 
 
 Submissively to thine; 
 Nor think because the rain-drops fall 
 
 I uselessly repine. 
 
 Our woman-hearts are finely strung. 
 
 Vibrating with a breath. 
 And she is saddest who must smile 
 
 0*er bleeding wounds beneath. 
 
 A careless word, a hasty line. 
 
 Strikes like a barbed dart; 
 Deal very gently, you who win. 
 
 With woman's loving heart. 
 
 I place my hand within thy own. 
 
 Thro* love, confidingly. 
 Content to tread thro* any path 
 
 So that it be with thee. 
 
 40 
 
PEACE 
 
 I have a gem in my bosom hid. 
 
 From curious eyes it lieth alone; 
 And no miser can joy more over his gold 
 
 Than I o'er this jewel that's all my own. 
 
 When cruel words, with their stings of scorn. 
 Pierce my unguarded and ready heart, 
 
 I look on its pearl-like beauty, calm. 
 
 Till its soft glow sootheth the bitter smart. 
 
 It is mine, all mine, while my life shall last. 
 Given of God, and of only Him; > 
 
 I leave the noisy mirth of the world. 
 The gaudy lustre that makes it dim. 
 
 To go alone, or with one I love. 
 
 Where silence and shadow brood calm and fair ; 
 And looking deep in my soul I find 
 
 This glorious jewel glowing there. 
 
 You who would know what its name may be. 
 When most your hearts are free from care. 
 
 Resting on God with a child-like trust. 
 Look in your souls, you will find it there. 
 
 When the whole wide world seems fullest of love 
 That spreads like a veil over sorrow and sin, 
 
 When holy thoughts seem natural and right. 
 Look then, for it nestles close within. 
 41 
 
A VIGIL 
 
 One night while keeping watch o'er the sleeping. 
 While Death's cold Presence loomed dark above. 
 
 She, gently coming, like shades at gloaming. 
 Brought comfort to me, she whom I love. 
 
 Tho' Death has claimed her. Love still retained her; 
 
 When I wept no Heaven could hold her then; 
 But angels leaving, to soothe my grieving. 
 
 She came, love-lighted, to earth again. 
 
 No word was spoken, the hush, unbroken. 
 Fell o'er the head where the fever throbbed; 
 
 But her look of gladness softened my sadness, 
 I sighed more gently where erst I sobbed. 
 
 If such joy be given, like hers, in Heaven, 
 'Tis smiles for weeping, 'tis life for Death; 
 
 With joy, not grieving, we should be leaving 
 The graves that holdeth our loves beneath. 
 
 So thro' the dreariness I felt her nearness, 
 I felt the Peace she had brought from Heaven; 
 
 And, bowing slowly to spell so holy, 
 I yielded fully what He had given. 
 
 Oh! early taken! I felt forsaken 
 
 When God thus called thee, " Sweet, come above "; 
 Yet in that vision I know thy mission 
 
 Stretched far beyond my blind human love. 
 42 
 
LINES WRITTEN ON MY TWENTY-FIRST 
 BIRTHDAY 
 
 Entering upon the smooth and easy path 
 Of early womanhood, I stand to-day; 
 
 Before me spreads a glowing, rosy scene, 
 Behind my cares, my lonely dreamings lay. 
 
 A fair, an easy path of love and faith. 
 Of calm obedience and of mild content, 
 
 A placid evening to so rough a morning. 
 
 Smiles in Hope's promise with a glad intent. 
 
 And yet, and yet, a spirit in my breast 
 
 Spurns at the ease of life, the mild control, 
 
 And finds a fiercer gladness where the billows 
 Of sterner strife and deeper conflict roll. 
 
 Mild, soft, submissive, clinging, loving ever, 
 So should a woman be, and so am I, — 
 
 When all is calm, — but when the tempests gather 
 In all their force, they rule my angry sky. 
 
 Just twenty-one, and standing here, defiant 
 Of laws, of rulers, and of every creed — 
 
 Oh God in Heaven! whose hand, then, has planted 
 In my young heart such sorrow-bearing seed? 
 
 I cannot tell; in prayer have I been governed 
 By loving hands that sought my highest good; 
 
 How he, the evil one beside my cradle, 
 
 Implanted here this wild, this lawless mood. 
 43 
 
Ah! I abhor myself! I loathe my being! 
 
 False, false as falsehood, save by transient spells; 
 Driven on shoals by every gale of passion 
 
 That at a word, a smile, a sneer, oft swells. 
 
 Oft-times my heart is bowed beneath its burden; 
 
 I weep with bitter tears my sin, I cry — 
 Have mercy, mercy on me. Lord, a sinner! 
 
 Turn on this erring one a pitying eye. 
 
 But, ah! He heeds me not, earth clings so closely 
 Around my spirit. He can hear me not; 
 
 And so I seek to drown, in worser passion. 
 The voice that, heard, can never be forgot. 
 
 I sin repent, — yet my repentance serves not; 
 
 I feel no peace, no joy, no quiet here; 
 Heaven is so far off, the world so kindly, 
 
 I seek to lose my grief and anguish there. 
 
 And him I love — for his sake, oh my Father, 
 Hear me this once, for his sake bring me low. 
 
 That I may win him back, by coming with him 
 Back to thy fold; teach my wild heart to bow. 
 
 Could I but wander back this rosy childhood. 
 Thro' gates of birth, all would be well with me ; 
 
 But now ! — oh aid thy feeble child. Great Father, 
 To reach, by any steps. Thy Heaven and Thee. 
 44 
 
ON MY TWENTY-THIRD BIRTHDAY 
 
 Two years ago I sat beneath these trees 
 
 And to my birthday chanted feeble lays; 
 Leaning on former happiness and ease, 
 
 I wailed impatiently the coming days. 
 And cried, " These waves will surely overwhelm. 
 
 This storm will crush me, crawling here beneath, 
 I have no strength, or hope to hold the helm. 
 
 Life has no better boon for me than Death." 
 
 But now I sing, " Oh sky so blue above. 
 
 Oh, waters calmly glittering in the sun. 
 Death is not half so sweet to me as Love ! 
 
 Nor what may be, less dear than what has flown " ; 
 I look on bravely to the far " to be," 
 
 For I have learned life's chances are all wove 
 Into the pattern God hath chosen, we 
 
 Being the dear recipients of His Love. 
 
 By the dark past's dismay, and doubt, and fear. 
 
 By all the terror turned to happiness. 
 By all the clouds that, feared afar, drew near, 
 
 Only with gentle rains, like dews, to bless. 
 This have I learned, with slow and faltering tongue, 
 
 And many a shrinking look of dark distrust. 
 He who has taught the birds to love their young, 
 
 Who heeds the worm that crawls thro* slime and dust. 
 Who bids the flowers close up their fragrant eyes 
 45 
 
From death-distilling vapors of the night. 
 Whose power provides the insects' destinies 
 
 And guides, thro' pathless air, the birds aright. 
 He who has given unto me a soul 
 
 Thrilled with aspiring and immortal life. 
 With power to force to my will and control 
 
 The elements that else with death were rife — 
 
 He will care for me, whatsoe'er I be; 
 
 Sinner or saint, still, still a child of His; 
 And tho' I grow bewildered as I see 
 
 The mazy windings of a world like this. 
 He has cared for me, thro' my wayward youth ; 
 
 He, if I yield unto the yoke when given 
 (In night and storm, still let me hold this truth!), 
 
 He will recall me to my Loves in Heaven. 
 
 I LOVE MY LOVE 
 
 Sing out, little bird, from thy leafy world. 
 Sing out in thy joy so full and free; 
 
 My heart finds voice in thy gush of song, 
 For I love my love, and my love loves me. 
 
 The whole earth glows with a golden light. 
 The sky is as blue as blue can be; 
 
 My heart is happy forever more. 
 
 For I love my love and my love loves me. 
 46 
 
Sing louder and fuller yet, sweet bird, 
 
 From thy wind-rocked home in the sunlit tree ; 
 
 Yet my heart in its joy shall outswell thy song, 
 For I love my love, and my love loves me. 
 
 Where are life's sorrows ? I see but her smile. 
 And beneath its glories all shadows flee; 
 
 I hear no tears in her tender voice 
 
 As she whispers softly, " I love but thee.'* 
 
 In the quiver of leaves thro' the summer air. 
 In the murmur of waters clear and low. 
 
 In the breath of flowers, the light of stars. 
 In the flitting shadows that come and go; 
 
 In the evening clouds with their royal pomp. 
 In the gentle patter of summer rain. 
 
 In the dew that drops like an angel's tears, 
 But, most of all, in thy joyous strain — 
 
 I hear but the echo of one soft song. 
 
 That shall never cease, in the days to be. 
 
 To bring summer and bloom to my care-worn soul- 
 " Oh ! I love my love and my love loves me." 
 
 47 
 
THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE 
 OF "TWILIGHT" 
 
 So my soul in the twilight clearness sits. 
 
 Conning its hidden treasures alone. 
 While a worldly memory strangely flits 
 
 Between the earthly and th' unknown. 
 Alone, alone, in a world of mine own. 
 
 Queen and sovereign supreme am I ; 
 No other will doth my soul fulfil, . 
 
 Sitting there in the twilight silently. 
 
 Canst thou see, oh soul, in thy thoughtful glance. 
 
 The true from the false in this life of thine? 
 Or dost sigh for the shadows that come and go. 
 
 Weeping for things that can never be thine? 
 Is it love thou art leaning on, and truth. 
 
 Art thou asking, or dreaming what thou shalt do? 
 Or, bewitched by the glamour of Fancy and Youth, 
 
 Art thou blindly mingling the false and the true? 
 
 Oh dreaming soul, in the calm twilight. 
 
 The shadows beguile thee more and more; 
 And Phantoms will gather with coming night, 
 
 And bewilder with faces thou st known before. 
 God's pity upon thee, thou pitiful soul. 
 
 That loveth so fondly cold fancy's gleams ! 
 For one of the saddest things on earth 
 
 Is a human soul starved on empty dreams. 
 48 
 
TO R. F. P. 
 
 Dost thou remember, oh my friend! the even 
 
 When on the ocean's wave-ribbed beach we walked. 
 And scarcely heard the two between that talked. 
 
 While we were scaling the low steps of Heaven? 
 
 For so divine the scene before us spread, 
 The rising moon, just trembling into sight. 
 The sun's departing kiss of rosy light. 
 
 The waters fretting in their restless bed. 
 
 That earthly thoughts and themes passed from the soul. 
 While Heaven seemed nearer, and our spirits grew 
 Closer and closer; mutual feeling threw 
 
 A chain around us, past our slight control. 
 
 Since, thro' the sunshine and the shade we've stood. 
 Bound in the links then rivetted and blessed, 
 Each to the other a support and rest. 
 
 As two trees lean together in a wood. 
 
 I've found, where'er my wavering footsteps bend. 
 Full many a pleasure in my onward way; 
 But in my heart of hearts I bless the day 
 
 When by the ocean side I found a friend. 
 
 49^ 
 
CONCEALED LOVE 
 
 DEDICATED TO MY HUSBAND 
 
 Sweet, deep in my heart shall thy love repose, 
 Like the golden heart in a folded rose. 
 Guessed only by transient gleams that shine 
 From my over- full joy thro' these eyes of mine; 
 Unsullied by breathing of human word. 
 With its lucid crystal unshadowed, unstirred. 
 Mirroring only the heavens and thee. 
 So, my darling, our love shall be. 
 
 If at even shadows I seek thy side. 
 
 And at noontide fulness away I glide. 
 
 If guarded gestures and words conceal 
 
 From inquisitive eyes what my tongue could reveal. 
 
 If the crimson glow on my cheek burns clear 
 
 When I read in thy glances thy secret dear, — 
 
 *Tis not for shame, for no shame can dwell 
 
 Where the sweetest angel of Heaven is. 
 
 But because I would not that lips should tell. 
 
 Or eyes con over our perfect bliss. 
 
 The mystical number I've lately learned. 
 When from books to my heart and to thee I've turned; 
 The mystical number for fortune and joy. 
 Which no evil can touch and Death only destroy. 
 Is only two, so between us close 
 We will let this beautiful secret repose; 
 
 50 
 
And, thou and I, in duality one. 
 
 Shall keep from the curious world around, 
 
 This love of ours, so sweet, whereon 
 
 God's smile hath shined, making holy ground. 
 
 And none, with haughty and trampling feet. 
 
 Shall come near its sanctified hidden retreat. 
 
 THE TWO SMILES 
 
 She smileth as the little children do: 
 
 So full of happiness, so free from thought. 
 
 That the bright smile forth-springeth, over-fraught 
 
 With all the bliss of love while yet 'tis new. 
 
 Years over-roll her, and their lessons teach 
 Of patience, sorrow, and yet bitterer woe — 
 Of hours that every human heart must know, 
 
 Heavy with agony beyond our speech; 
 
 And passionate longings deepen to content. 
 So she submitteth where she cannot rule. 
 An humble scholar in Life's rigid school; 
 
 She hath still kept one smile where'er she went. 
 
 Not the bright glory of that earlier ray. 
 
 But a glad sunset to a changeful day. 
 
 61 
 
"ONLY WAITING" 
 
 Only waiting till the shadows lengthen o'er the harvest-field, 
 Where his toil has made the earth all her richest treasures yield; 
 Only waiting till the voice whispers thro' the golden leaves, 
 " Come, come home," for this he's waiting, only waiting, 'mid the 
 sheaves. 
 
 Many years they've toiled together, he and she he loved so well. 
 Sowing all their seed together, watching it to fruitage swell ; 
 Sowing seeds of love and patience, each with an unsparing hand; 
 Wheresoe'er their Master bids them scatter it thro' all the land. 
 
 In the morning's early glory, when their hearts with hope beat 
 
 high. 
 And all glittering with the dew-drops lay the field before their 
 
 eye. 
 When their mutual love was rosy with fond youth's romantic 
 
 glow. 
 Hand in hand, clasped tight together, forth they went their seed 
 
 to sow. 
 
 As the noon grew warm and heavy with the sun's o'erwhelming 
 
 heat. 
 On they travelled, never staying to repose their weary feet; 
 Hand in hand, clasped all the closer, for the fiery trial near. 
 Side by side they trod together, sharing every sigh and tear. 
 
 52 
 
Thro' the sunshine, thro' the shadow, over flowers, over thorns. 
 By the graves of loved and lost ones whom the soul in secret 
 
 mourns. 
 Hand in hand, still tightly clasping, these two faithful ones 
 
 went on. 
 Thro' the nodding sheaves of harvest, onward to the setting sun. 
 
 But on one the Master smiling, in His great Love, gently down 
 The slant rays called very softly, " Come, receive thy labor's 
 
 crown." 
 So she left him, lingering, waiting, till the summons come again. 
 To endure a little longer storm and labor, cloud and rain. 
 
 But the evening sun is setting, tinging all the quivering leaves, 
 And he's only waiting, standing, waiting, 'mid the harvest 
 
 sheaves. 
 Ye whose tears are falling hotly for the loved ye see no more. 
 Bind your sad hearts up from breaking: they are only gone 
 
 before. 
 
 And in Heaven ye shall meet them whom ye loved so long on 
 
 earth. 
 There their smiles shall be far brighter than they were around 
 
 your hearth; 
 For they catch their glorious beauty from the smiling of Our 
 
 Lord, 
 Who gives resting after anguish, after labor, the reward. 
 
 53 
 
THE TRYST 
 
 Oh! the night wind swept over desolate plains, 
 
 And whistled over the hill; 
 The rush of the water I heard in its breath. 
 
 As it dashed o'er the wheel of the mill. 
 
 No stars came out in the stormy sky. 
 
 The moon had veiled her face, 
 Yet we two stood 'neath the old pine-tree — 
 
 Both at our trysting-place. 
 
 There in the night and cold we stood. 
 And gave our mutual vow: 
 " Faith unto death," we plighted, and oh ! 
 'Tis bravely we're keeping it now. 
 
 The wind sweeps over the desolate hill 
 
 And the stars shine coldly clear; 
 I am keeping my tryst at the old pine-tree. 
 
 And he, oh ! he too is here. 
 
 For his kisses rain soft on my fevered head. 
 
 Cool like the evening dew. 
 And his voice sighs soft thro' the boughs above, 
 
 " Till death, and e'en after, still true." 
 
 'Tis a weary and lonely march, this life ! 
 
 Oh God! when will it be o'er. 
 When we at our trysting-place may meet. 
 
 Never to separate more.'^ 
 54 
 
THE STEP ON THE STAIR 
 
 A step on the stair! — it thrilleth 
 
 My soul to the very core; 
 Oh God ! I know that step so well. 
 
 Yet heard it ne'er before! 
 
 I know it, for oft in my childhood 
 
 I heard the ghastly tale. 
 And my blood ran slow, and cold and thick. 
 
 And my rosy cheek grew pale. 
 
 And when slumber had left my pillow. 
 
 In fancy spurred by fright, 
 I've heard the sound of its stealthy step 
 
 In the midmost noon of night. 
 
 It comes from the room whose windows 
 
 In the sunlight never shine. 
 And across whose casements and darkened door 
 
 Is the spider's filmy line. 
 
 Long ago, in the bright mid-summer, 
 
 There dwelt a lady fair; 
 Like a beam of the summer's golden sun 
 
 She seemed, in her beauty rare. 
 
 The outcast heart beneath her smile 
 
 Grew gentle towards its race, 
 The saddest eyes forgot to weep, 
 
 'Neath the sweet joy of her face. 
 55 
 
The Grossest hound that tore his keeper, still 
 Grew mild beneath her hand; 
 
 So like a smile from God she seemed, 
 To shine thro' all the land. 
 
 But dark and crafty and cold to her 
 Grew the face of her wedded lord. 
 
 And jealousy crept around his heart 
 And whispered a poisonous word. 
 
 And in its venom, her beauty 
 Seemed full of lures and guiles; 
 
 Her very artlessness to him 
 Looked like the wanton's wiles. 
 
 So, once, in the quiet sunshine. 
 Forth from that dim old room, 
 
 A voice of mortal agony 
 
 Rang thro' the hush of noon. 
 
 A cry — and then all was silent; 
 
 And the bees were humming still; 
 And the distant dash of the fall was heard. 
 
 And the drone of the olden mill. 
 
 But a spell of terror grew dark and close. 
 
 Over that chamber dim. 
 And a nameless curse on the Master fell. 
 
 That drove all men from him. 
 56 
 
The lady^ alas! was no more seen. 
 In her beauty young and fair; 
 
 But ever at dead of night comes still 
 A cry — and that step on the stair. 
 
 TO TIME 
 
 Floating further and further from us. 
 As we drift down life's stream. 
 
 The beautiful visions of childhood 
 Dissolve in a misty dream. 
 
 There were hopes that we fondly cherished. 
 Of deeds we could do and dare; 
 
 Do we ever know hopes so unselfish 
 As those of our childhood were? 
 
 There were visions then, all unquestioned, 
 By the simple trust of our youth. 
 
 Of a world where every brow was clear. 
 Where the lips only spoke the truth. 
 
 These were all things that have been. 
 
 But lingeringly look we back 
 On those vanishing forms of beauty, 
 
 While urging our onward track. 
 57 
 
Oh! Time, we resign unto thee 
 
 Those early loves of ours ; 
 There clingeth a fragrance round them yet, 
 
 Tho* they be but withered flowers. 
 
 Our hopes, our ambition, blighted, 
 By the world's all chilling breath, 
 
 We resign to thee; but oh, leave us 
 Our childhood's simple faith! 
 
 Leave us the faith that answers 
 That Heaven lose not its light. 
 
 That our soul be not affrighted 
 By the perils of the night. 
 
 Leave us the faith that answers 
 When storms threat to o'erwhelm; 
 
 I cannot fear, my Father's hand 
 Is steering at the helm. 
 
 TO TIME . . . 1858 
 
 Time, the Iconoclast, thy hand 
 
 Hath shivered many a joy of mine. 
 
 And left my spirit sad and cowed. 
 Weeping before the insulted shrine ;- 
 58 
 
And when my heart bowed low beneath 
 The veiled image it had made. 
 
 Thy hand hath torn the mask aside. 
 
 And I have scorned where erst I prayed. 
 
 Thy hand is on my brow, thy mark 
 On cheek and eye, yet, with a start 
 
 Of terror at the fleeting years, 
 I feel thy touch is on my heart. 
 
 The impulses of youth are flown; — 
 With graver aspect I behold 
 
 Fancy's gay follies, Joy's allures. 
 And feel my pulses calm and cold. 
 
 Yet I can bless thee. Fearful One, 
 That tarriest never for our cries, 
 
 That urgeth us forever on. 
 
 Thro' our God-cared-for destinies. 
 
 Thou, the Destroyer, art to me 
 
 The Soother, Friend and Comforter; 
 
 Thou bindest up the hearts that bleed 
 In this world's rude and careless stir. 
 
 Thy veil is thrown o'er by-gone scenes. 
 Extracting all the pain; it leaves 
 
 The tender beauty that earth wears 
 On autumn's quiet misty eves — 
 59 
 
Till we stand, counting pleasant paths. 
 Forgetting we have been storm-dmen. 
 
 And, lingering in thy parting smile. 
 Step from thy arms to God and Heaven. 
 
 CHASING A SHADOW 
 
 Chasing a shadow, chasing a shadow. 
 
 Thro* the winter's storm, and the summer's heat, 
 Over the hill, the woodland, the meadow, — 
 
 On, ever on, with unwearying feet. 
 Flowers entice him, and green trees invite him. 
 
 Murmuring waters allure him to rest; 
 Offering in vain all their joys to delight him. 
 
 He chaseth the shadow far on to the west. 
 
 Chasing the Phantom, the years roll above him. 
 
 From childhood to boyhood, to manhood, he speeds; — 
 Yet gathering near him no fond hearts to love him. 
 
 Trampling flowers beneath him where God sowed seeds; 
 Shutting out from his heart all the human distresses 
 
 That fill the world-air with a pitiful cry, — 
 His name no poor heart in its gratitude blesses, 
 
 Tho* Fame shouts it loudly afar thro' the sky. 
 
 Chasing a shadow tho' daylight is dying, 
 
 And phantoms are gatihering thickly and fast; 
 
 In the cold nipping wind his gray hair is flying. 
 His weary limbs shake: — shall he miss it at last? — 
 
 60 
 
Darker and darker the path grows before him. 
 The shadow is lost 'mid the shades of the night; 
 
 He hath fallen at last, and the gloom closes o'er him, 
 Forgotten, unthought of, when lost to the sight. 
 
 ** And to be wroth with one we love doth work like madness in the brain. 
 
 —ChristaheL 
 
 Is this time for estrangement, O my friend! 
 
 When all the air is filled with angry cries. 
 And one great wrong, of which we see no end. 
 
 Bids us bind closer all our olden ties; 
 Should it not rather be that a true love 
 
 Should burn but steadier in this night of war ; 
 That when the earth reels, and we look above, 
 
 We may behold at last one faithful star; 
 See — I will kneel to thee, beseeching thee. 
 
 By all held dear by thee, refuse me not; 
 Are those hours nought, that were so much to me? 
 Or, with their flight, have they been quite forgot? 
 I will not let thee go, except thou say. 
 
 Smiling still kindly on my sore distress, 
 " The cloud has gone that shadow'd yesterday, 
 
 And with it all the doubts that did distress." 
 So shall thy words dispel this bitter pain. 
 
 And I be folded to thy breast again. 
 
 61 
 
CHRISTMAS— 1863 
 
 Christmas has come ! bring now the cedar wreaths 
 
 And with them gaudy ribbons gaily twine. 
 To deck the household room, until it show 
 
 Like a domestic shrine. 
 Where holy love shall make the rites his own. 
 With chosen gifts for each beloved one. 
 
 Ages ago, came One, the gift of God, 
 
 When all the earth was going mad with crime; 
 A sun-ray dropped in darkness, which hath glowed 
 
 Brighter through lapse of time; 
 So we give gifts, and bid all quarrels cease 
 In memory of the blessed Prince of Peace. 
 
 The Prince of Peace! can he have aught to do 
 
 With us, dipped deeply in fraternal blood? 
 We who deny Him in our lives far more 
 
 Than ever Jews on rood. 
 For they refined not on their wickedness 
 By asking Him, e'en while they killed, to bless. 
 
 But tve, we shield ourselves behind His name 
 
 To do deeds hateful unto Him above. 
 Linking all hard and selfish thoughts with One 
 
 Who only teaches love; 
 Denying all the truths. He died to give 
 With the loud thunder of the lives we live. 
 
Seeking Him only when our sins grow thick. 
 
 And we are somewhat faint with fight and loss. 
 Then, blindly staggering with life's weight, we go 
 
 To lean upon His Cross. 
 For Thou insulted but forgiving God 
 We would avert the justice of Thy rod. 
 
 How can we bring our children unto Thee 
 
 When their clear eyes our own short-comings find? 
 And see no signs of Thee thro' all this land, 
 
 "Where madmen lead the blind;" 
 Where nature is the only minister 
 True to the teachings Thou hast left with her! 
 
 Go — ^take away those merry Christmas wreaths! 
 
 They are for faithful hearts and peaceful homes; 
 But veil our walls with cypress, while we sit 
 
 Weeping amid its glooms. 
 Unliappy land! No Christmas joy for thee — 
 Sackcloth and ashes should thy portion be. 
 
 Blacker than night, unlit by moon or stars; 
 
 Sadder than human tongue can ever tell; 
 More hopeless than the doom that bound for aye 
 
 Satan to Hell; 
 Must be the Fate that Time's unswerving hand 
 Deals from his chalice to a Godless land. 
 
 63 
 
PENNSYLVANIA 
 
 In conscious strength^ my native State, 
 My own beloved Keystone State, 
 Rests, her appointed time to vrait. 
 While *neath the summer skies her fields 
 Grow golden with the ripened grain. 
 And rich with mingled sun and rain, 
 Her orchards all their fruitage yield. 
 
 And deep beneath the teeming soil, 
 Beneath the watered, wooded soil, 
 Rewarding hands of patient toil. 
 Are precious mines of iron ore; 
 Hot sunshine all condensed in coal. 
 That long before our ages roll. 
 Skirted as woods the moist rank shore. 
 
 Between New England's furious cant. 
 Their silly Puritanic cant. 
 Hypocrisy's last bare-faced rant. 
 And the hot South's impetuous shock 
 She stands, as when two seas may meet. 
 Howling around its gray grim feet 
 I've heard, may stand a mighty rock. 
 
 Calm as its shadbw o'er the seas. 
 
 The wild, the tossing, raging seas. 
 
 So stands she, while her Master please, 
 
Waiting until the gradual plan 
 
 Shall bring her in th* appointed hour; 
 When, with a shout of conscious power, 
 
 She shall produce the Man. 
 
 My native State! so near my heart! 
 
 So closely held within my heart. 
 
 Dearer than life itself thou art. 
 
 Loved with so fond, so proud a love, 
 I long to hear the dread command, 
 That bids thee show the iron hand 
 
 Beneath the velvet glove. 
 
 PRO PATRI^ 
 
 She lies in dust, deploring her disgrace. 
 Our native land — the mother of the Free ! 
 
 Yes ! she has bowed her head, and veiled her face. 
 Where none can comfort, none the grief should see; 
 
 She to whose will once Kings were glad to bow, 
 
 A mock for all the earth, now lieth low. 
 
 Is there a heart to know this and not break.'* 
 Is there no arm that dare avenge her shame? 
 
 Has she no sons that for her holy sake 
 
 Will wipe the damning spot from off her name.^ 
 
 And tell the world she is not sunk so low 
 
 As lying tongues and hollow hearts would show. 
 
 65 
 
Are we, then, steeped so far in lust of gold. 
 That we can tamely kiss the hand that binds? 
 
 Degenerate sons of those brave hearts of old 
 That would not beat, or beat as free as winds. 
 
 Are ease and comfort so very much. 
 
 That we should hold them with so tight a clutch? 
 
 Steeped in humiliations to the lips 
 
 By fools at home, and fanatics abroad. 
 
 Our country's star is near a dread eclipse. 
 And we smile on, and helplessly do nod. 
 
 We have been taught in blood the sword's abuse. 
 
 And tyrants now should learn of us its use. 
 
 Must we, then, con through years of chains and shame 
 That honor is a better thing than joy? 
 
 That gold can never gild a tarnished name? 
 That a firm will can even hell destroy? 
 
 That swords have better uses, or as good 
 
 As letting forth a Southern brother's blood? 
 
 I will not think it; we are freemen's sons; 
 
 We cannot shame our fathers in their graves; 
 While yet one drop of their life-current runs 
 
 It will not let us tamely yield, as slaves. 
 To those who now with parricidal hand 
 Stab at the very heart of our dear land. 
 
 66 
 
Yes — ^we shall free her in a little while^ 
 And she again shall crown herself a queen. 
 
 Wielding her mighty sceptre with a smile. 
 By consciousness of power made serene; 
 
 And, gathering up her royal robes, she may 
 
 Move on in triumph down her Appian way. 
 
 A LITTLE RED ROSE 
 
 Didst thou dream, thou little red rose. 
 When the sun kissed thy leaves apart. 
 
 What a blessed joy, ere thy life should close. 
 Thou wouldst give to a human heart? 
 
 Not only because thou'rt the fairest 
 
 Of all on the blooming tree; 
 But because that the hand of my dearest 
 
 Has gathered thee only for me. 
 
 Sweet has thy life been, fair blossom. 
 And happy shall be thy death. 
 
 For I'll rock thee to sleep in my bosom. 
 And bless thee with every breath. 
 
 And though scentless and faded, more precious 
 Than roses in bloom shalt thou be; 
 
 For one whom I love, with a tender thought 
 Plucked this little red rose for me. 
 67 
 
SONG 
 
 "Solitude is sweet; but one needs ever a friend to whom one can say, 
 *How sweet is solitude! * " 
 
 Merry it is in the grand old woods. 
 
 Where ferns and the mosses grow. 
 And oh! I wish in those solitudes, 
 
 I could wander the whole day through; 
 Yes, I would wander, — but not alone, 
 I would have some laughter to echo my own. 
 
 Sweet would the song of the wood-birds seem. 
 
 Hidden 'mid clustering leaves. 
 And tender the murmuring sound of the stream. 
 
 As one who rebels not, yet grieves; 
 But sweeter, I ween, and more tender would be 
 The vows I should hear *neath the greenwood tree. 
 
 Solitude, solitude surely is sweet. 
 
 In the heart of the forest dim; 
 Wliere the pulses of life in the still air beat, 
 
 Like the cadence of a hymn; 
 But I*d rather have one whom I love to say 
 *' How sweet is the solitude here to-day." 
 
 68 
 
PROFILE MOUNTAIN 
 
 I left the thronged hotels and went apart 
 To a sequestered spot that I had known. 
 
 That strongly summoned my o'er burdened heart, — 
 Thither I went alone. 
 
 There lay the dark lake at the mountain's base. 
 While black against the flaming sunset sky 
 
 The profile of a stern, gigantic Face 
 Met ray expectant eye. 
 
 In vain the mountain foliage would roll 
 
 Around the grimness its soft depth of gloom; 
 
 Aloft it towered, like an unpardoned soul 
 Which waits the word of doom; 
 
 Too proud to show an imavailing pain. 
 
 Too patient for rebellion; — the grave eyes 
 Seem to o'erlook the ages and to strain 
 
 To future mysteries. 
 
 A visible embodiment of all 
 
 That underlies our ever-varying mood; 
 The eternal question born of bier and pall. 
 
 That cries ** What good ? what good ? " 
 
 That asks in moments of the deepest bliss, 
 " Is this the crown of the strange life we live? 
 
 To souls that dream of God and Heaven, is this 
 " The best that Time can give? " 
 69 
 
Thus, like the solemn sphinx we seem to be 
 
 Sitting with heads raised upward to the skies; 
 
 While on our feet when we would rise and flee 
 The desert sand still lies. 
 
 In vain we watch, and strain like yon stern Face, 
 Into the Land Beyond, the form we wear 
 
 Clasps us so tightly in its dull embrace. 
 Even God we scarcely hear. 
 
 But when at last Death's solemn shades unroll. 
 And this mean life of daily toil is o'er. 
 
 The riddle shall be solved, and the freed soul 
 Question no more. 
 
 SUNSET 
 
 Now within the golden west 
 Sunset clouds of glory swim; 
 
 And the rapture in my breast 
 Thrills forth in a grateful hymn. 
 
 Somewhat that I cannot name 
 
 Sings with trembling joy in me. 
 
 As these gorgeous clouds a-flame. 
 Roll westward like a seething sea. 
 70 
 
As if this surpassing show- 
 Aroused anew a latent thought 
 
 Of what my spirit used to know 
 Ere she within this form was caught. 
 
 Oh! far more than joy of eye 
 Moves me to these happy tears. 
 
 As the radiant colors die 
 
 And the first pale star appears. 
 
 Nothing more I know, than this; 
 
 Earth and her lovely mysteries 
 Move us to such thoughtful tears. 
 
 As holier things they symbolize. 
 
 Our life, like this fair summer day. 
 Hastes us to death's starry night; 
 
 And God grant our parting may 
 Be as radiantly bright. 
 
 VIOLETS AT THE OPERA 
 
 Sweet little flowers, how wan and faint you look 
 Amid this atmosphere of heat and noise ! 
 
 Your souls, like mine, it seems but poorly brook 
 These artificial griefs, these hot-bed joys. 
 71 
 
I wonder if you're dreaming^ half shut up. 
 Of far-off garden plots, and wooing breeze; 
 
 Of the sweet drop of honey in your cup, 
 Hived from the nectarous dew, for happy bees ! 
 
 Like that clear drop of concentrated sweet, 
 Lies in my heart the thought of one beloved; 
 
 So let us wait until Time's flying feet 
 
 Bring to us those who gather unreproved. 
 
 For you, I fear, no fragrant summer noon. 
 No humming bees, no tender sunny sky; 
 
 Garnered in vain the honey-drop, for soon. 
 Stifled in light and music, you must die. 
 
 For me — ^^vell, what for me? I wait, I dream 
 Amid the fever of the world around; 
 
 Perchance, my happiness may on me beam, 
 Wlien I, like you, sink to our mother ground. 
 
 MY BIRD 
 
 Speed thee away, my Bird! 
 
 From all thy weary pain, 
 *Tis not thy mother's love 
 
 Would call thee back again. 
 
 72 
 
The clouds are gathering fast. 
 And angry rolls are heard 
 
 Which bode the coming storm. 
 Then haste away, sweet Bird ! 
 
 Haste thee away to skies 
 
 Where tempests never come. 
 Where love eternal smiles 
 
 In an unfading home. 
 Speed, speed away, sweet Bird! 
 
 Seek thou a happier spot; 
 Leave me and speed away; 
 
 Behold, I hold thee not! 
 
 What heed if tears will swell 
 
 To these rebellious eyes? 
 What heed if words of cheer 
 
 Are checked by breaking sighs ? 
 What heed if vain regrets 
 
 The mother's heart assail .f* 
 The love I bear to thee 
 
 O'er nature shall prevail. 
 
 O speed thee hence, while yet 
 I feel my soul so strong : 
 
 Take with thee smile and look 
 That charmed my heart so long. 
 
 73 
 
Take with thee, sweet, thy wiles. 
 That cheered me in my sorrow, 
 
 My Angel Bird, whose eyes 
 
 Gave new hope for each morrow. 
 
 Speed, speed away, ere thought 
 
 Recalls me to my lot. 
 And tells of lonely hours 
 
 When I shall have thee not. 
 Ere fancy pictures how 
 
 At every turn I'll miss 
 Thy little winning ways. 
 
 Thy gentle, fond caress. 
 
 Take with thee all my hope. 
 
 Built on thy future years; 
 Frail hope, that like the frost 
 
 In one night disappears. 
 Speed, speed away, my Bird, 
 
 A happier sphere to fill; 
 I give her, God, to thee! 
 
 My broken heart, be still! 
 
 74 
 
A CATHEDRAL SERMON 
 
 A finger pointing from earth away 
 Rises the minster tower gray. 
 
 In tracery like granite lace; 
 Within, rich glowing tints illume 
 The vaulted arches' solemn gloom, 
 
 And soften majesty with grace. 
 
 This glorious master-piece of art 
 Sprang from a passion of the heart. 
 
 To give to God its very best: 
 And so the men of ages gone 
 Carved out this " symphony in stone," 
 
 Then laid them down to rest. 
 
 Such would I make my life, I thought: 
 A splendid temple, deftly wrought. 
 
 By years of sacrifice and pain: 
 Where noble deeds like gems should shine. 
 And genius with a light divine. 
 
 Redeem the common-place and plain. 
 
 So, while I mourned my placid days 
 Where no heroic deed may blaze. 
 
 No martyr's crown be hardly won; 
 But where as on some temperate isle, 
 A thousand gentle pleasures smile. 
 
 And joy and duty are but one, 
 75 
 
Came from the sunny market-place^ 
 A woman with a quiet face^ 
 
 Tho* deeply seamed by toil and years ; 
 And bowed before the radiant shrine^ 
 Where smiles the Motherhood Divine, 
 
 She poured her prayers, her tears. 
 
 Then rising with a brightening look, 
 A few poor, humble weeds she took 
 
 To lay upon that shrine of art; 
 A few poor leaves of humble birth. 
 Plucked from the common wayside earth. 
 
 She brought, with grateful heart. 
 
 Oh! thou aspiring soul of mine. 
 Haste thou to offer at God*s shrine 
 
 The very best thou hast, though small ; 
 The little cares that test thy love. 
 The petty conquests thou dost prove. 
 
 Hasten to bring Him all. 
 
 There is no great or less to Him, 
 "Who dwelleth 'mid the cherubim. 
 
 Yet marks the tiny moth that flies; 
 His is all earth, and His all Heaven, 
 His all thy gifts; at last when given. 
 
 It is the Love that sanctifies. 
 
 76 
 
MEADOW DAISIES 
 
 You beautiful meadow daisies! 
 
 Each with a golden heart! 
 
 Would that mine were the art, 
 To worthily sing your praises! 
 
 You shine 'mid the tender grass. 
 
 Like a laugh from dear mother earth, 
 In her hours of springtide mirth, 
 
 That are sweeter that soon they pass. 
 
 As your perfect stars I see. 
 
 Again I become a child; 
 
 When I used to think that you smiled. 
 That school-term was over for me. 
 
 The sky seemed so far and blue; 
 
 And the earth so warm and gay; 
 
 Where the very birds were at play, 
 As though there was nothing to do. 
 
 But now, oh you darling flowers. 
 Life's lessons are hard to ponder. 
 And fain from the school would I wander. 
 
 So few are vacation hours. 
 
 And I think, through these rapid years. 
 Is it still the same world as of old? 
 For it seems so strange and cold. 
 
 So full of trouble and tears ! 
 
 77 
 
But the distant sky grows bright; 
 And after a little, I'll come 
 Foot-weary and worn to my Home, 
 
 Far away from earth's shadow and night. 
 
 And oh! may your bright stars cover 
 My grave, when I've passed away; — 
 And to hearts that have loved me, say, 
 " At length is her school-term over ! " 
 
 THE ARGYNNIS CYBELE BUTTERFLY 
 
 She has such lovely velvet wings! 
 
 Soft plumes of richest brown. 
 With dainty golden pencilings 
 That glitter in her flutterings 
 
 Like flame a gust hath blown. 
 
 She poises on a clover bloom. 
 
 The upright wings are seen; 
 Pure silver stars the shades illume; 
 This perfect beauty is, — for whom ? 
 
 What can it mean.^* 
 
 Do flowers, and winds and streams have eyes. 
 
 That this fair thing should be? 
 These tender lines, these sumptuous dyes? 
 Of Beauty's conquering witcheries 
 
 What need hath she? 
 78 
 
Could I but grasp the haunting hints 
 
 That come^ and quickly go, 
 Like the gleaming of her argent tints, 
 Life's secret, with its deep intents, 
 I should surely know. 
 
 But, is it strange a thing that is 
 
 A winged thought of God, 
 Should come in beauty like to this? 
 Or from a treasury like His, 
 
 Perfection be bestowed? 
 
 GROWING OLD 
 
 'Mid autumn's glowing fruitage, does the tree bloom^ 
 Mourn for the vanished days of spring-time^ 
 
 Kegret the tossing, white and rosy sea 
 Of tender color, delicate perfume? 
 
 Say, does the river bearing on its breast 
 
 The stately vessels to the busy mart. 
 Long for the shadow of its mossy nest. 
 
 Amid the ferns, far in the forest's heart? 
 
 Does it bewail those merry chattering hours 
 Wherein it mirrored only sky and trees. 
 
 Until it left the simple meadow flowers 
 To seek the distant bosom of the seas? 
 79 
 
Neither may I, upon life's harvest field. 
 
 Mourn for youth's scenes of mingled pride and bliss; 
 Fairer they surely were, yet could not yield 
 
 The deeper sense of peace that follows this. 
 
 Onward — still onward, with a constant mind. 
 And hands more powerful to bless and cheer; 
 
 Onward I press nor grieve to leave behind 
 The shifting pageants of my human year. 
 
 Not weakly can I mourn my vanished May, 
 Or dread the coming of the dark December ; 
 
 While still in loving eyes I look, and say, 
 
 " Friend of my youth! oh, dost thou not remember? *' 
 
 A PARABLE 
 
 Quoth a little brown seed, " I do not know 
 Why it is I must struggle and grow: 
 When the earth is so warm, and dark, and still 
 I would never leave it, had I my will. 
 
 ** But something urges me still away; 
 I must strive and struggle; I cannot stay: 
 Though what awaits me above up there, 
 I do not know, and I do not care." 
 
But ah ! when the seed to blossom grew. 
 Rocked by the zephyrs and fed by the dew. 
 And gently unfolded to light and sun 
 Its delicate flowers, one by one — 
 
 It softly sang to each laughing breeze, 
 
 Surely no blossoms were ever like these! 
 
 This glory of sunshine is life indeed 
 
 I could never have dreamed of, when but a seed." 
 
 And what are we, in this life of ours. 
 But seeds of God's future-blooming flowers? 
 Shall we murmur and grieve that we do not know 
 For what He would have us struggle and grow? 
 
 Nay! we will patiently work His will 
 Mid earth's mysterious gloom, until 
 Beneath His sunshine, and in His land 
 Our souls shall blossom — and imderstand. 
 
 THE SEASONS 
 
 Lo! the sweet voice of Spring, 
 
 Joyous awakener! 
 Calling the birds to sing. 
 
 Making the dull sap stir; 
 Until all clad in green. 
 
 Nature rejoices. 
 And fills each budding scene 
 
 With myriad voices. 
 81 
 
Then with mild, dreamy eyes. 
 
 Beautiful Summer 
 Glows with the glad surprise 
 
 Of welcomes poured on her. 
 Kissing the flowers to fruit; 
 
 Pouring her life abroad, 
 Until no spot is mute — 
 
 Barren, no wayside sod. 
 
 Autumn, more stately, slow. 
 
 Rich in her royal robes. 
 Doth the fruition show 
 
 Of all Spring's blooming hopes. 
 Then Winter, cold and pale. 
 
 Folds to her quiet breast 
 Earth, *neath a snowy veil. 
 
 Whispering, ** Rest." 
 
 AT SEA 
 
 Darkly the shadows of the night 
 Deepen upon rainy seas. 
 Upon the desolate rainy seas. 
 
 And not a single point of light 
 Pierces the gray obscurities. 
 
 Through the dark waves, with no delay 
 
 The good ship speeds her onward way. 
 82 
 
A little bird with weary wing 
 Perches upon the topmost mast, 
 A ispeck upon the tapering mast; 
 
 Storm-wearied, bruised, affrighted thing. 
 He sleeps and dreams of home at last; 
 
 I watch him, marvelling much what Hand 
 
 Guides his far wandering flight from land. 
 
 Yet has my spirit been afar. 
 Drifting upon the shifting sea; 
 On speculation's weary sea. 
 
 Where seems no shore, where beams no star 
 Nor any point of rest for me. 
 
 While missing God, I only cry 
 
 Give me a Saviour, or I die. 
 
 Then o'er the wild waves sped a thought, 
 A memory of an oft-proved Love, 
 A deep and all-supporting Love; 
 
 And I to that have firmly caught. 
 And ridden the wild waves above. 
 
 Until we came to some fair shore, 
 
 And doubt and dread at once were o'er. 
 
 So sleep, thou little bird, in peace; 
 The morning sun shall shine on thee. 
 Lighting thy pathway o'er the sea 
 
 To sunny lands where storms shall cease; 
 Where rocking on some leafy tree 
 
 This lonely night upon the mast 
 
 Shall seem a fevered dream all past. 
 83 
 
STORM ON THE HILLS 
 
 The awful spirits of the storm 
 
 Gather among the hills ; 
 The quiet vales, the shuddering woods 
 
 Their muttering menace fills. 
 And plunging down the rocky steep. 
 
 While hurrying to the distant main. 
 The torrent pauses, ere his leap. 
 
 To answer them again. 
 
 Dismayed at the dark rolling clouds, 
 
 My heart's dear friend and I 
 Seek out a small, deserted hut 
 
 Until the storm pass by. 
 No more I heed the wild alarm. 
 
 No more for angry tempests care. 
 My world is circled in my arm. 
 
 And sunshine smileth there. 
 
 UP THE RHINE 
 
 Up the river's shining tide. 
 The sombre hills between. 
 
 Like a phantom form we glide 
 In the silent scene. 
 84 
 
The black silhouettes stand clear 
 Against the luminous sky; 
 
 While the moon thro' the tranquil air 
 Looks with loving eye. 
 
 Close down by the river's brim 
 
 The fitful lights betray 
 Where the village in outline dim 
 
 Is nestled away. 
 
 Afar on the frowning height 
 
 A castle's towers rise. 
 And in the tremulous light 
 
 Seem to touch the skies. 
 
 Peace rests upon tower and town; 
 
 And peace on the wide swift river; 
 And we seem as if living alone 
 
 To float on thus forever. 
 
 The world around is a dream. 
 But the dear, dear Dead so near^ 
 
 As we sail up this magical stream 
 In the moonlight clear. 
 
 They gather like wreathing mist. 
 And I hear their whispers plain; — 
 
 We know thou hast mourned, but list! 
 We shall meet again! 
 
 85 
 
We grieve for thee, still in the night, 
 Bearing thy sorrow and care; 
 
 But ours is a Home of Light; 
 We await thee there ! " 
 
 THE TAJ MAHAL* 
 
 A CHRISTMAS THOUGHT 
 
 'Tis not of sequence that her mortal gifts 
 Were richer than all women's, she for whom 
 
 The Taj Mahal its fairy towers lifts 
 
 Till all the world stands hushed before her tomb. 
 
 Tho' weeping love, thro' lonely nights and days 
 Wrought out each tender memory to a shrine 
 
 So wondrous fair, envy can naught but praise 
 And time respect, a marvel so divine. 
 
 Was she then fairest, being so beloved? 
 
 Nay, but her lover, noblest of his race. 
 Who thus his mourning constancy has proved, 
 
 Love being given of its own free graee. 
 
 *The Taj Mahal is a superb mausoleum of white marble and precious 
 stones, erected to the memory of Mumtaz Mahal, by her husband Shah 
 Jahan, of Mogul, in a beautiful garden in the city of Agra. Mumtaz Mahal 
 died in 1615,and was a niece of Noor Mahal, celebrated in Moore's ''Lalla 
 Rookh." 
 
 86 
 
In pondering this, I dimly come to guess 
 Little by little, of the abounding flow 
 
 Of God's great love that seeks His child to bless. 
 And draws him to Himself from sin and woe. 
 
 Seeking our souls amid the dews of night 
 
 Our Lord stands, knocking on the fast-closed door; 
 ' Let Me but enter, I will bring thee light. 
 
 And life, and peace, and love, forevermore." 
 
 What am I, Lord, that from Thine high abode, 
 Thou unto me should stoop? " " Behold," saith He, 
 Thou are beloved; thou art a child of God, 
 And of My boundless love I gather thee." 
 
 Oh! blessed day, oh! holy Christmas-tide; 
 
 Shine in our hearts with ever fuller light 
 Until, from all the earth on every side. 
 
 Glad smiles respond, in times of pure delight. 
 
 To the grand chorus that announced the birth 
 Of love divine, among the sons of men ; 
 
 Glory to God on high, and on the earth 
 Peace and good-will; Amen; Amen." 
 
 87 
 
GREETING TO THE NEW YEAR 
 
 With solemn step and slow. 
 
 Over the sparkling snow. 
 His dark robe waving in the midnight air 
 
 A veiled stranger comes 
 
 Into our hearts and homes. 
 And sits beside us in the fireside chair. 
 
 Strange gifts to us he brings; 
 
 Joyous and saddening things; 
 We cannot guess if welcome he should be ; 
 
 Yet this we know: his hours, 
 
 Tho' crowned with thorns, or flowers. 
 Have purposes divine, altho' we may not see. 
 
 They must in all fulfill 
 
 Our Father's blessed will. 
 Of love supreme; a saving love to all the souls of men; 
 
 And so we need not fear 
 
 The face of this new year. 
 But give a gracious welcome, again and yet again. 
 
 Hail! then thou silent guest! 
 
 May all thy days be blest! 
 The while thou dwellest 'mid the sons of earth: 
 
 Blest all thy gifts from Heaven, 
 
 In tenderest mercy given. 
 Whether of solemn death, or yet more solemn birth. 
 
 88 
 
And when^ thy mission o'er. 
 
 Thou go'st_, to come no more, 
 May we remember thee with love and peace ; — 
 
 Knowing our lives have grown 
 
 Richer for all thou'st done. 
 Nearer the holy land where years shall cease. 
 
 DAY-DAWN 
 
 Within the old town tower alone I stand: 
 The city lies asleep beneath my eyes: 
 The morning dawns far in the eastern skies : 
 
 The red glow widening tinges all the land. 
 
 Dark roofs below me, tell what scenes ye screen. 
 Of mirth, of folly, and oh me! what woe! 
 You may not speak the secrets that you know. 
 
 And throw a romance over homes now mean. 
 
 What fearful, silent battles do you hide 
 
 Of vice and want with this frail faith of ours ? 
 Blessed is he who conquers these grim powers. 
 
 And trusting God, a brighter day abides! 
 
 Oh Hope! oh Faith! see yonder comes the sun. 
 His beams illume the house-tops, spires, and domes; 
 Some rays will wander to the lowliest homes. 
 
 To cheer the souls that must still labor on. 
 89 
 
Peace, doubting heart! tho' dark and ill appears 
 Humanity's great seething mass of souls, 
 Bide thou a little! from the east there rolls 
 
 A glorious promise for the coming years. 
 
 No heart so humble but that gracious Sun, 
 The Sun of Righteousness will reach to aid; 
 No one so erring but his sins be made 
 
 Whiter than snow beneath that benison. 
 
 With healing in His wings ! behold Him rise 
 O'er all the world; yet to thy loving heart 
 As near as though alone with Him thou wert: 
 
 Such care hath God had for man's destinies. 
 
 RECONCILIATION 
 
 What wondrous spell is over the night! 
 
 No stars shine forth thro' the murky air. 
 Yet my heart throbs high, and all earth looks bright; 
 
 I discover a glory everywhere. 
 The sombre clouds are tinted for me 
 With a beauty no one else can see; 
 Each sound that reaches my eager ear 
 Bears a music that I alone can hear. 
 
 What witching spell hath come over the night ! 
 
 To stir my soul with so deep a bliss; 
 No summer eve with its glowing light 
 
 And western breeze, was e'er fair as this. 
 90 
 
The rain-drops seem kisses the wind blows free 
 As it whispers a thousand dear thoughts to me: 
 My blood runs warm, and my heart throbs high. 
 Was never a maiden so happy as I. — 
 
 Two hours ago, when I stood just here. 
 
 How lonely and cold was the wintry scene; 
 I shrank from the chilling evening air. 
 
 And sadly mused upon what had been; 
 But now; what spell can be on the night; 
 Such glamour entrances my charmed sight. 
 That the earth beneath and the heavens above 
 Seem to thrill with the tender pulses of Love. 
 
 THE SOUL'S COMPANIONS 
 
 Two holy angels hath our blessed Lord 
 Appointed of His nearest seraphim 
 
 To open unto men His gracious word. 
 And gather souls to Him. 
 
 One comes in glory, with embracing arms: 
 And one in solemn shadow moves apart; 
 
 Yet both with their mysterious, heaven-born charms 
 Are near each human heart. 
 
 Joy brings her lavish gifts of hope and love 
 Crowning with garlands the rejoicing head. 
 
 Until the eyes forget to look above. 
 So fair the world lies spread. 
 91 
 
Few are the spirits^ few, and child-like pure, 
 Who follow her light feet to perfect bliss 
 
 Where love and duty blend in peace secure, 
 Nor feebly tread amiss. 
 
 But sorrow wheresoe'er her seal is set. 
 
 Implants a thorn that stings with cruel pain; 
 
 Until we seek 'mid anguish and regret 
 Some earthly balm in vain. 
 
 Thou strengthener of souls ! who piercest deep. 
 Mother of tears ! dreaded and feared of men ! 
 
 On whose stern bosom all who sadly weep 
 Are soothed to peace again. 
 
 He who has never seen thy awful face 
 
 Nor kept with thee pale vigils thro' the night. 
 
 Listening thy wondrous ministry of grace. 
 Learns life but half aright. 
 
 But he upon whose brow thy kiss is pressed 
 Finds a fresh courage in each bitter loss. 
 
 And follows thee, to find his only rest 
 Low at the sacred cross. 
 
 92 
 
THE FIRST ROBIN 
 
 The winds blow keen thro' shivering trees, 
 
 And skies are gray: 
 The snow-drifts all among the bare brown leas 
 
 Unmelted lay; 
 We heed not passing signs like these, 
 
 But blithely say: 
 The robin comes, the robin comes; 
 The Spring will follow for the robin comes. 
 
 His first shy note, so sweet, so low. 
 
 Say, do you hear. 
 Ye streams ? that restless 'neath the ice and snow 
 
 Throb far and near. 
 And angrily aside your fetters throw 
 
 To breathe the air? 
 The robin comes, the robin comes; 
 Spring soon shall follow for the robin comes. 
 
 A deeper blue burns in the sky. 
 
 And a weird thrill 
 Stirs thro* the woods, tho* buried lie 
 
 The fern roots still; 
 Yet Spring's sweet promise hovers nigh, 
 
 Hope to fulfil: 
 The robin comes, the robin comes; 
 Soon Spring will follow for the robin comes. 
 93 
 
Blow keen and far, thou frosty wind : 
 
 To rooms of pain 
 Carry thy message, that the sad may find 
 
 Fresh strength again. 
 Knowing the Winter shall be left behind 
 
 And Summer reign : 
 The robin comes, the robin comes; 
 Soon Spring shall follow for the robin comes. 
 
 NOT IN VAIN 
 
 Some lilies rose in stately radiance white 
 
 'Mid shafts of living green; 
 And the pure, starry splendor made a light 
 
 Around the homely scene. 
 
 What chance had placed the bulbs in such a spot 
 
 No human tongue could tell. 
 But neither shower nor Summer sun forgot 
 
 To tend the nurslings well. 
 
 A lover wandering by the lonely place 
 
 Plucked one with musing smile. 
 Seeing anear one well-remembered face 
 
 And whispered all the while: — 
 
 ** This perfect flower with a dew-drop laden 
 In virginal garb of white. 
 Shall bear my secret to my dearest maiden 
 And plead for me to-night." 
 94 
 
A little ragged boy with eager hand 
 
 Hath gathered two or three; 
 And now, who is there that in all the land 
 
 Hath such a joy as he! 
 
 Hunger and want his gaunt companions long 
 
 Have slunk in shame away, 
 While that sweet presence like an unsung song 
 
 Thrills all his soul to-day. 
 
 Yet ere a little must the lilies fade 
 
 And thrown aside, must die; 
 But for two hearts a heaven they have made 
 
 Ere they neglected lie. 
 
 A memory of love in one fair breast; 
 
 In one sad empty soul 
 Some longings have been stirred that ne'er shall rest 
 
 Under earth's low control. 
 
 HAPPINESS 
 
 He never lived who could o'ertake 
 Fair Happiness, and buy her favor, 
 
 Yet many foolish souls will make 
 
 Wreck of their lives, in mad endeavor. 
 
 Deaf to your wooing while you plead 
 And toil her flying footsteps after. 
 
 E'en as you grasp her, off she'll speed 
 And mock you with an elfish laughter. 
 95 
 
But make her sister Duty guide. 
 And follow, deaf to all beguiling, 
 
 Coy Happiness stands close beside, 
 And now the lovely witch is smiling. 
 
 She drops her roses at your feet. 
 
 And sings, beside your hearth-fire, sitting; 
 
 While Duty's austere brow grows sweet; — 
 And Happiness no more is flitting. 
 
 MOTHER EARTH 
 
 Borne on thy broad brown bosom, mother earth. 
 
 Among the stars we fly. 
 While dark with woe, or gay with hope and mirth 
 
 The winged Hours sweep by. 
 
 Thou blind, mysterious mother of our race. 
 
 With throbbing heart and brain 
 I seek the meaning on thy changing face 
 
 Of all life's woe and pain. 
 
 But all in vain; thy transmutations strange 
 
 In one wide circle caught. 
 Tell us of change, of birth, of death — ^but change 
 
 That paralyzes thought. 
 
 Rocked on thy bosom, lo ! our little life 
 
 Flees like a troubled dream; 
 Then folded in thy arms from pain and strife 
 
 We sleep by wood or stream. 
 96 
 
Thine is the fading frame, at last to pass 
 
 In thy capacious breast 
 Into, perchance, some flow'ret of the grass. 
 
 Around a wild bird's nest. 
 
 But never thine this ardent, living soul 
 
 That clings to thee, yet spurns thy utmost bliss- 
 
 A Prince disherited that yields control 
 To nought that lower is. 
 
 To perfect purpose, see thy tiniest bud 
 
 And smallest leaf unroll; — 
 But never to its utmost height of good 
 
 Hath reached a human soul. 
 
 That feeble, royal chrysalis shall yet 
 Unfold afar, in holier realms above; 
 
 While thou, a planet dead, for aye has set, 
 We live in God's dear love. 
 
 Oh ! love and thanks, first mother of our race ; 
 
 The dearer that we know. 
 We are thy foster children for a space. 
 
 Ere to our Home we go. 
 
 97 
 
LIGHT 
 
 "But all the children of Israel had light in their dwellings." — Ex. x; 23 
 
 Darker and closer grow the shades about us. 
 The din and bustle of the world more loud; 
 
 In vain we seek for strength and help without us 
 In all this stirring and bewildering crowd. 
 
 Yet while confusion reigns, and many voices 
 Startle the anxious soul with sudden fright. 
 
 Upon one thought at last, in rest she poises — 
 Among Thy people, Lord, there shall be light. 
 
 Wherever 'neath Thy banner, they may gather 
 In reverence seeking Thee, whate'er the creed. 
 
 Thou wilt shed light upon them, gracious Father, 
 Knowing alone each heart's supremest need. 
 
 No longer shall the darkness round appall us. 
 While in the soul this heavenly light shall glow; 
 
 And thro* life's mazes lead, whate'er befall us. 
 Into that path where Thou wouldst have us go. 
 
 Oh Holy Light ! shine thro' our hearts, transforming 
 These earthly lives, until with radiance filled. 
 
 As tapers each may serve, for the adorning 
 
 Of the great temple which our Lord shall build. 
 
FLOWERS OF SPRING 
 
 IN MEMORIAM 
 
 Again the flowers of Spring; again 
 The lovely darlings of the year; 
 
 But now they bring a thought of pain 
 For one who loved them is not here. 
 
 The form whereon our heart is set, 
 Behold! 'tis very fragile clay: — 
 
 A little flower is treasured yet 
 
 When heart and hand are passed away. 
 
 But the true Love for whose dear sake 
 We hoard the scentless withered thing, 
 
 No years can kill, no force can break, 
 She knows no Autumn and no Spring. 
 
 Upward! — away from earth and death, 
 Up into purer realms she springs; 
 
 And on sustaining wings of Faith 
 Soaring, in holy joy she sings. 
 
 " Flowers may come, and flowers may go. 
 Summer and Winter, sun and cloud; 
 And sorrowing hearts awhile below 
 Weep o'er the coffin and the shroud ; — 
 
 '* But of a birth Divine am I ; — 
 
 An off'spring of Eternal Love; — 
 I cannot change, I cannot die. 
 
 Fed from the exhaustless Fount above.'* 
 99 
 
EASTER 
 
 The earth lies brown and bare 
 Under a dark gray sky, 
 And the winds, with an angry cry, 
 
 Toss the branches aloft in air. 
 
 Oh heart, that grieves to see 
 
 Nought abroad but Winter and sleep, 
 Sweet secrets, most sweet and deep. 
 
 Hath Mother Nature for thee. 
 
 For *tis but a little while 
 
 Ere thou seest where'er thou look. 
 
 Each in its dear old nook 
 Thy favorite blossoms smile. 
 
 Behold! o'er the wintry earth 
 Dawns the glorious Easter morn, 
 And in souls that are sorrow-worn 
 
 A faith all divine has birth. 
 
 Thro' all the ages of men 
 Hath rung the despairing cry, 
 Behold! how our darlings die! 
 
 Shall we never see them again? 
 
 Not Nature's whisper might reach 
 The mourner so blind and dumb! 
 But the gracious message hath come 
 
 In the simplest human speech. 
 100 
 
"Why weepest thou?" hath Christ said 
 Not only once, but now 
 To thee; " why weepest thouf 
 Thy loved ones are not dead. 
 
 " No sorrow, whatever it be. 
 
 But that I will help thee bear; 
 Child, cast on Me thy care. 
 Am not I always with thee ? " 
 
 Oh Father of Spirits ! we pray 
 
 That Thy Grace may give us to look 
 On Thy written and unwritten Book 
 
 Clearly on Easter Day. 
 
 MIDNIGHT 
 
 There's not a star in all the sky. 
 Only a mass of stormy cloud; 
 
 And through the naked shuddering trees 
 The wind wails loud. 
 
 Aroused from sleep by vague unrest. 
 In vain I seek a sound, a sight 
 
 Of hope, or sympathy to cheer 
 The lonely night. 
 
 No footstep in the silent street. 
 All still except the sob and moan 
 
 Of the wild wind, as it and I 
 Watch here alone. 
 
 101 
 
A heavy sorrow weighs my heart, 
 
 With anguish far too deep for tears; 
 
 Thinking of sad Humanity 
 Thro' the long years. 
 
 Death is so solemn, Life so sad, 
 And Poverty and Sin so strong; 
 
 And as in shadows, all the world 
 Seems steeped in wrong. 
 
 Was it an angel's whisper clear 
 
 That thrilled along that blast's fierce close. 
 That stilled my heart, and softly said, 
 
 ** The Father knows " ? 
 
 No storm shall rage but as He will; 
 
 No tiniest bird unnoted fall; 
 No heart breathe an unheeded sigh ; — 
 
 He sees them all. 
 
 Oh! blessed Lord of Life and Death! 
 
 This suffering and perplexing world 
 Is shielded by supremest Love 
 
 Around it furled. 
 
 And He who watched o'er Israel 
 Shall slumber not, nor cease to keep 
 
 One single soul. So calmed and hushed 
 Again I sleep. 
 
 102 
 
THE INN 
 
 Landlord, make what cheer you may, 
 I must be your guest to-day; 
 From a distant clime I come, 
 And I hasten to my home. 
 
 Ah! what journey's like to this 
 Where so few our presence miss ! 
 Where no might of sage or king 
 One hour's tarriance may wring? 
 
 This cosy room that now I own 
 Shall cheer another when I've gone; 
 The fire as brightly leap and shine, 
 Delighting other eyes than mine. 
 
 Take this largess; give it free; 
 I am fain that there may be 
 Somewhere a tear or sigh the less 
 For my share of happiness. 
 
 Fret not, landlord, that thy guest 
 Tastes not of the very best; 
 In a journey such as mine. 
 What boots it, how I sleep or dine? 
 
 Whether care, with frowning face, 
 Take beside my chair her place. 
 Or if gentle smiling ease 
 Bring a thousand charms to please; 
 103 
 
So my daily stint be done 
 Ere the setting of the sun. 
 And my gracious Master call 
 As the darkening shadows fall. 
 
 And if reaching out my hand 
 Aid a weaker friend to stand. 
 Or a cheerful word I sing 
 Joy to any heart may bring, 
 
 I would do what such I may, 
 I shall not return this way, 
 And I would your hostelry 
 Should be, at least, no worse for me. 
 
 THE GOLDEN ROD 
 
 What happy thought is thine, oh Golden Rod? 
 
 What merry secret worth our knowing. 
 That thou art shaking thus thy plumes abroad, 
 Brightening and cheering all the wayside road, 
 
 While the strong west wind is blowing? 
 
 Far, far above the tallest swaying trees. 
 In the blue skies, white clouds go sailing 
 
 Like ships of pearl across deep azure seas; 
 
 Is it some vision that hast caught from these 
 O'er future cold and storm prevailing? 
 104 
 
The last belated blossoms shuddering feel 
 The grasp of autumn damp and chilly; 
 The tangled yellow grasses scarce reveal 
 Where the shrunk frightened streamlets steal. 
 No longer bubbling, fond and silly. 
 
 But thou with thy cicada small and shrill, 
 
 A strong inspiring song art singing; 
 Of sweet content, of sturdy will; — 
 And though the frost may blight and chill. 
 The sun a present joy is bringing. 
 
 And in unconscious strength, serene 
 
 With radiant pomp, thy court art keeping. 
 
 Clothed in thy robe of vivid green; 
 
 Crowned as was ne'er earth's richest queen 
 With plumes unstained by blood or weeping. 
 
 Thy bold and joyous flower sure must be 
 Our autumn's darling and her treasure; 
 
 Teaching to those with eyes to see 
 
 What fortitude, what virtue free. 
 What innocent, unfailing pleasure. 
 
 May blossom amid life's late hours. 
 
 When vanished are youth's scenes of beauty. 
 For him who, like these wayside flowers. 
 Fulfils his part with all his powers. 
 
 Trusts in his God, and minds his duty. 
 105 
 
A FOOLISH CHILD 
 
 A merry^ bright, and audacious boy 
 
 Of our nineteenth century brood. 
 Was puzzling over a Japanese toy — 
 
 A nest of boxes of wood. 
 
 And I said as he fitted them, one by one, 
 ** How neatly they're cut and how true ! '* 
 
 But he answered, " By man these were never done. 
 They are wood, you see, and they grew." 
 
 'Do you think, my child, that no skilful hand 
 
 Carved each close-fitting box and lid.^ 
 How then did they grow so compactly planned.^ " 
 
 " I do not know how, but they did." 
 
 You smile? Is the logic then worse than his 
 Who this wonderful world has scanned. 
 
 Where no dreams can compare with the marvel that is. 
 Yet sees not the Maker's hand.'' 
 
 Science and knowledge have grasped at much. 
 
 Yet, wisdom and love see clear 
 That the realm which lies beyond sight and touch 
 
 Can alone solve the mysteries here. 
 
 So, knowing the two-fold life of man. 
 
 And the hope that this life implies. 
 We smile when we hear the scientists' plan 
 
 To explain what about us lies. 
 
 106 
 
We thank him for all the truths he gives. 
 But remember how much is still hid, 
 
 When he says, *' From matter sprang all that lives ; 
 We do not know how, but it did." 
 
 THE LESSON OF ST. MACAREUS 
 
 A LEGEND 
 
 Before his cave knelt St. Macareus 
 And lifted hands of prayer. The twilight threw 
 A purple shadow o'er the stony peaks. 
 While far below in the dark, dewy vale 
 Lay the great city starred with twinkling lights. 
 Without him was deep silence, but within 
 His lightened heart sang in a sweet content: 
 * What life, oh God ! can please Thee, like to this 
 Of the poor anchorite, whose lonely cell 
 Is cut amid these desolate basalt crags 
 Lifted aloof, above the fretting crowd 
 Who toil in cities, coining into gold 
 The lives and yearnings that belong to Thee? 
 While we live as the birds live, trusting Thee 
 For what the day may bring us, scant or full 
 Of simplest food. Holy thoughts 
 Are our companions ; 'mid these dark red rocks 
 Oft flutter angel pinions. Want and care 
 And wild-eyed anguish cannot clutch us here 
 107 
 
So near to Thine own Heaven, for our hearts 
 Are all unlinked to any erring soul 
 Whose sins or griefs may cloud our pure serene; 
 Worship and prayer are as our very breath; 
 And as this quiet landscape 'neath yon sky. 
 Whose dark dome throbs with many silver stars. 
 So, 'neath Thy love, our spirits rest in peace; 
 Surely our lives are patterned to Thy will ! '* 
 A gentle whisper through his spirit thrilled, 
 '* Others there are more pleasing. With the dawn 
 Seek thou yon city where white dwellings gleam 
 Amid the verdure, like the snowy leaves 
 From a fair blossom scattered; thou shalt see 
 Two there who follow best our Lord's commands." 
 The next day, 'mid the crowd, the eager saint 
 Hastened to mark what hermit hollow-eyed. 
 What holy man of visioned ecstasy. 
 What preacher honey-lipped and gaunt with thought, 
 The unseen guide who led him, should select. 
 Two women came at last, quiet and gentle-voiced. 
 But humbly clad; and one was young and glad. 
 Checking her buoyant footsteps to the pace 
 Of her who followed meekly, whose dark eyes 
 Had gazed on Death and Sorrow once so close. 
 So face to face, that henceforth life kept time 
 To slower pulses, and to chastened thoughts. 
 ' These," said the secret whisper to the saint, 
 ' These are God's well-beloveds ; these simple souls 
 Who speak no ill or think none; but who hold 
 
 las 
 
Their hands of help outstretched to all who need, 
 Whether a sinking soul adrift on shoals 
 Of doubt or sin, or some sad, broken heart; 
 Or, as thou seest, by brimming water-gourd, 
 Staying their steps to save a drowning bee. 
 The world's old dragon writhing at their feet 
 Tugs vainly at their garments as they pass. 
 With eyes intent upon their leader, Christ, 
 They neither see nor heed the venomed thing. 
 These kindle altar fires of love and faith 
 Upon the household hearth, whose kindly glow 
 Amid earth's damps of deep discouragement 
 Sends up perpetual incense of sweet thoughts 
 And gracious deeds of loving sacrifice 
 To Him who, sharing, consecrated life." 
 Macareus was as he who gazed the first 
 Thro* the crude microscope and felt his brain 
 Reel to bewilderment with all the life 
 Pulsating in a rain-drop; down fell the walls 
 That narrow sense had built about his thought. 
 And left him naked to the blowing winds 
 Of dizzy speculation, and wild doubt; 
 The dark penumbra of himself, called God 
 Fading away in the clear light of truth. 
 So thought the saint: " If this be service then 
 This simple, quiet filling of the law 
 Of sweet domestic love, what use the scourge. 
 The sack-cloth and the penance? of awful pangs 
 Of Nature half-subdued that strives and strives 
 109 
 
Through anguished nights, and days of fast and prayer 
 For her dear rights ? " He raised his troubled eyes 
 And marked the sunset's golden light that glowed 
 Upon the basalt rocks about his cave. 
 Those riven, barren peaks which caught the light 
 First at the dawn, and held it last at eve. 
 Bathed in the same warm glory, lay the vale 
 Sweet with fair meadows, and the song of birds, 
 And flitting butterflies, and beds of flowers. 
 Pondering the strange new lessons he had learned, 
 He climbed the streamlet's stony bed, up, up 
 To his wild eerie in the desolate crags: 
 Nor, after preaching, failed he still to teach, 
 * They do not serve our Lord alone, who seek 
 Silence and solitude apart from men. 
 Who dwells amid the turbulent sons of earth. 
 Where human toil and sorrow, love and joy. 
 Quick alternate and change like sun and shade. 
 Where deeds and aspirations diflf'er so. 
 Hath daily discipline, and bears his cross 
 Closely upon his heart: aye, and hath space 
 Within the narrowest home, and straightest path 
 For fullest nurture of each Christian grace. 
 The daily life our Blessed Saviour shared 
 Lived by His law, becomes a sacred thing. 
 Lifted to solemn service, by each act 
 Of Faith, of Resignation, and of Love." 
 
 110 
 
MORNING AMONG THE HILLS 
 
 Surely in some new world I float! 
 
 Some fresh young world unstained by woe: 
 Where, drifting in my tiny boat 
 
 The light waves rock me to and fro. 
 
 The hemlock branches thrill and stir 
 'Neath the sweet witchery of the morn; 
 
 And from yon sombre woods of fir 
 Balsamic incense breaths are borne. 
 
 Above yon cataract that gleams 
 A floating ribbon thro' the green, 
 
 A slender torch of white mist seems 
 To lighten all the dark ravine. 
 
 On this fair lake without a name 
 
 While thought and sorrow stand at bay, 
 
 I watch unfold in radiant flame 
 The splendid blossom of the day. 
 
 Here is a service filled with praise: 
 Untouched by selfish needs or care; 
 
 My trembling soul her song may raise. 
 Feeling her God so very near. 
 
 Bathed in the glory and the light 
 She heeds no longer, time or space. 
 
 But fain would spread her wings for flight 
 To meet her Maker face to face. 
 
 Ill 
 
One passionate adoring prayer 
 
 Unknown to speech; — ^while slowly die 
 
 In the familiar daylight clear 
 
 The wondrous splendors of the sky. 
 
 To camp I urge my boat again 
 
 With longing and reluctant sighs; — 
 
 Yet bear back to the world of men 
 This passing glimpse of Paradise. 
 
 ENCOURAGEMENT 
 
 Tread not with gloomy brow life's dusty way. 
 
 As one who bears a fardel on his back, 
 Nor heeds what flowers bloom, what soft winds play 
 
 Athwart his gray monotony of track. 
 
 Sayst thou thy lot is dark? There is no lack 
 Of sunshine all around — and e'en at night 
 Lift but thine eyes, what wonders of delight 
 
 Would woo thy spirit to a better cheer! 
 
 But, 'mid the beauty, ah! what pain is here 
 To comfort; — and alas! the feeble hands 
 
 To strengthen for the burdens they must bear! 
 Beside thee, ever, lo! thy brother stands. 
 
 Take heart; — ^the bliss of helping may be thine. 
 Nor can aught shut thee from the Love Divine. 
 
 112 
 
THE LITTLE WHILE 
 
 Six years! six years, beloved! since we were parted; 
 
 Thou on the further side; 
 I left on this, where often, lonely-hearted, 
 
 I watch life's ebbing tide. 
 
 Is it the same old world, whose glowing splendor 
 Raptured with joy mine eyes? 
 
 Is this the life that was so warm and tender 
 That now so barren lies? 
 
 For him who once hath walked alone with Sorrow, 
 And met her stern, deep gaze. 
 
 Never shall dawn again another morrow 
 Like the glad yesterdays. 
 
 Yet not for idle brooding nor affliction 
 Hath Death such full control; 
 
 Sorrow, dark angel! hath her benediction 
 For the submissive soul. 
 
 Secrets the sweetest hath she in her keeping. 
 
 And with a solemn smile. 
 Whispers assurance 'mid our selfish weeping, 
 
 'Tis for a little while. 
 
 A little while for loneliness and grieving 
 
 For us who tarry yet ; 
 A little while ! and brief past all believing 
 
 When parted souls have met. 
 113 
 
Oh, Gracious Lord ! behold our desolation ! 
 
 Thou who didst thus console 
 Thy weak disciples, be the consolation 
 
 Of each afflicted soul. 
 
 We ask no Lethe, wish for no forgetting 
 
 Of all our dear, dear Dead, 
 But that this futile anguish of regretting 
 
 To patience pass instead. 
 
 And for the little while among the shadows 
 That each grieved heart may be 
 
 Strengthened to labor in the harvest meadows 
 More wholly given to Thee. 
 
 A CITY FERNERY 
 
 You lift your graceful plumes of tender est green, 
 Oh! lovely ferns, upward to sun and light. 
 
 As gratefully in placid peace serene. 
 
 As though the forest sheltered you from sight. 
 
 You heed not noisy street, nor busy throng, 
 You only upward look to yon blue sky, 
 
 Dreaming perhaps of shy wood-robin's song, 
 
 And whispering winds that thro' the tall pines sigh. 
 
 Fair visions surely hover round your life, 
 And reach to me who sit beside; I hear 
 
 No more the clangor and the vexing strife. 
 Of busy city toil, its grief, its care. 
 114 
 
Alone in some green murmurous wood with you. 
 Beside a stream I pause, whose laughing tone 
 
 Marks off in music, all the summer through. 
 The quiet hours, a clock of Nature's own. 
 
 The lovely vision hath a wondrous spell 
 
 To calm my soul with thoughts of deepest peace: 
 
 Truly, ye ferns, you fill your mission well, 
 A silent ministry, that shall not cease. 
 
 Like you I shall look upward to the light, 
 Whate'er surrounds me in my hours of pain. 
 
 The life beyond shall bless Faith's yearning sight. 
 And strengthen for the days that yet remain. 
 
 THANKSGIVING 
 
 The harvests are all in; the fields lie bare; 
 While vines and orchards yield their ripened wealth; 
 And as though Winter fain would come by stealth, 
 
 A frosty chillness crisps the bracing air. 
 
 The land awaits in calm expectancy 
 Her long snow-shrouded sleep; the sunset glow 
 Hath fallen from the radiant West, below 
 
 Tingling with glory every bush and tree. 
 
 The white mist rises from the hidden brook, 
 Like earth's soft incense poured forth undefiled; 
 A thousand pungent odors, rich and wild. 
 
 Spring up like startled birds from every nook. 
 115 
 
*Tis earth's thanksgiving hymn ! oh soul take part 
 And add thine anthem full of love and faith; 
 Not thine her narrow bounds of birth and deaths 
 
 For Love Immortal opens to thy heart. 
 
 Sorrow and pain, anguished and joyous days 
 Alike have ripened life's full harvest sheaves; — 
 And as descend the cool and darkling eves 
 
 Thy fittest song is of adoring praise. 
 
 A HILLSIDE SPRING 
 
 I know a tiny hillside spring. 
 
 Hidden among the grasses; 
 Its water is the sweetest thing 
 
 That mortal lips e'er passes. 
 
 And when the woods are all astir 
 
 With life-sap freshly flowing; 
 And you may feel Spring's harbinger 
 
 In every soft wind blowing; 
 
 It wakens in a daintier bed 
 
 Than Adonais lay in; 
 Blue violets around it spread 
 
 Young ferns for it to stray in. 
 
 Among the tangled mat of green 
 
 In the lush wealth of summer. 
 Close bending down, my spring I've seen. 
 
 And heard its happy murmur. 
 116 
 
When falls the dreamy Autumn haze 
 Thro* which the wood's bright glory 
 
 Glows like a mighty altar's blaze 
 In some old Eastern story, — 
 
 I've heard its crooning voice beneath 
 The ** woodland gold's " wild flutter, 
 
 As tho' it knew of sleep and death, 
 Sweet things it could not utter. 
 
 Hearts like my spring sometimes we find 
 In this mixed world of ours; 
 
 To dazzling ambitions blind. 
 Seeking life's humble flowers. 
 
 Traced by the blessings that they bring 
 Where'er their footstep passes ; 
 
 As I have found my hillside spring 
 Betrayed by greener grasses. 
 
 MY DESIRE 
 
 How little do I ask, to make my joy ! 
 
 Only what Nature on all things bestows; 
 No daring wishes do my thoughts employ, 
 
 I ask no cloudless sky, no thornless rose. 
 
 Only that my unquestioned feet may tread, 
 In early spring, some grassy wayside lane. 
 
 Or stray when autumn's blaze a glory spread 
 That thrills with rapture near akin to pain. 
 117 
 
Only to gaze in eyes beloved, and see 
 
 An answering sweet contentment, and to know 
 
 That where it makes my happiness to be 
 On that one heart I a like bliss bestow. 
 
 I ask but little, but I ask too much 
 
 Of Fate, who points me to a different path. 
 
 Where careless hands my quivering heart may touch. 
 Until I steel myself in pride and wrath. 
 
 My heart's desire may not come to me. 
 
 Whose pulses to such homely measures move, 
 
 That above wealth, I prize my liberty. 
 
 And more than all, peace, confidence and love. 
 
 DISCONTENTED 
 
 ** Life is commonplace, and tame " — 
 
 So I heard a damsel say; — 
 " Every week so much the same, 
 
 A dull monotone of gray: — 
 I would have it all aflame 
 
 With rich hues, and colors gay. 
 
 '* Love, and Joy, and Pride should shine. 
 E'en tho' sombre shades were there; 
 Mystic glooms, — ^this life of mine 
 
 Should then show, oh wondrous fair! 
 But instead I only twine 
 
 Threads of stupid household care." 
 118 
 
But when Time his hand had laid 
 On bright hair, and glancing eye. 
 
 When Pride, Grief, and Passion played 
 With the heart that throbbed so high. 
 
 With the future all dismayed, 
 
 Thus I heard the poor heart cry: — 
 
 "Ah me ! for the early years ! 
 
 Smiling 'neath love's gentle light! 
 When my tears were as the tears 
 
 Of a dreaming child at night. 
 Waking, to find phantom fears 
 
 Vanished in the sunshine bright." 
 
 MY MOCKING BIRD 
 
 Weary and weak from pain, I lie. 
 With languid head, and half-closed eye; 
 Nerves all unstrung, responsive spring 
 To meet whatever may respite bring. 
 
 A lovely scene of hill and dale 
 
 Spreads out before my view; clouds sail 
 
 In yonder dome of azure air, 
 
 With sweet bird warbles everywhere. 
 
 The swallows hurrying with wide throat. 
 The blackbird's clear responsive note. 
 The robin's rich, full call, the scream 
 Of angry catbird by the stream, 
 119 
 
The anxious cluck of brooding hens. 
 The squabbling of the nestling wrens. 
 Whose hungry mouths are gaping wide 
 And only one worm to divide; — 
 
 Then a swift flood of melody 
 O'erflows my little room, and me, 
 And thro* the winter's stormy hours 
 I see the sunny Land of Flowers. 
 
 Thus shift the scenes at thy caprice. 
 
 While rough winds blow and sleet storms freeze; 
 
 A little feathered fairy sings. 
 
 And changes thus the face of things. 
 
 GATHERED 
 
 [Suggested by an epitaph mentioned in Fox's Journal.] 
 It was but a sweet white rose. 
 Unfolding to sun and air; 
 I watdhed it gently unclose. 
 
 With many a yearning prayer. 
 
 One morning I sought my delight 
 
 At earliest gleam of dawn; — 
 But no blossom greeted my sight. 
 
 The beautiful wonder was gone. 
 
 ** Who hath gathered this bud.^ " I cried. 
 Amid weeping that would not cease: — 
 
 " The Master Himself," one replied ; 
 And in anguish I held my peace. 
 120 
 
THE ESCAPED BIRD 
 
 An open door, a flash of gleaming wings, 
 
 And in the soft air free. 
 My mocking bird is flown, and sits and sings 
 
 In yonder garden tree. 
 
 Too brief his joy! for at the exultant sound. 
 
 Hasting from near and far. 
 Pert sturdy sparrows gather closely round. 
 
 And shriek for savage war. 
 
 ' We know not this strange bird," they shrilly cry; 
 
 ** Down with the saucy thing ! 
 No sparrow wears such tail, strike at his eye; 
 How dare the creature sing ! " 
 
 Trembling and panting from this welcome rude. 
 
 He hastened to his cage. 
 E'en to the very window close pursued 
 
 By their insensate rage. 
 
 So fares the soul who 'mid the hustling crowd 
 
 Ventures a nobler song; 
 The strange sweet melody, sustained and loud. 
 
 Angers the stupid throng. 
 
 Yet sing, oh heart! forbear not for the pain; 
 
 And somewhere thou shalt hear 
 A kindred melody reply again 
 
 In pure vibrations clear. 
 121 
 
THE ADVICE OF CHAUCER— MODERNIZED 
 
 Fly thou the crowd, and live in honesty ; 
 
 Hoarding breeds hate; who climbs must risk a fall; 
 
 Ambition feedeth envy; do thou be 
 
 Content with what is thine, though it be small, 
 
 Not craving all thou seest; wealth dazzles all; 
 
 Watch thy own steps, thou so alert to see 
 
 Another's slip, and truth shall make thee free. 
 
 Strive not in vain the crooked to make straight; 
 But trust to Time that bringeth round the right; 
 There is much peace for him who learns to wait. 
 Nor idly rages 'gainst o'erwhelming might. 
 But trusts the law that justly doth requite. 
 Judge thou thy deeds as others' ; — thou shalt see 
 Beyond all doubt the truth shall make thee free. 
 
 Receive with cheerfulness whate'er is sent; — 
 Who wrestles with the world must catch a fall; 
 This earthly life for no long home is meant: — 
 'Tis but a pilgrimage; — forth, beast, from stall; 
 Look up on high and thank the Lord of all: — 
 Conquer thyself, thy conscience ruling thee. 
 And never doubt that truth shall make thee free. 
 
 122 
 
LAST FRIENDS 
 
 Oh Love ! oh Faith ! oh Hope ! 
 
 God's angels three ! 
 Now that my feet descend life's westering slope, 
 
 Abide with me. 
 
 Gay Mirth hath flown; Youth turns on me her back; 
 
 My friends grow few. 
 Yet shall my failing spirit little lack 
 
 While ye are true. 
 
 Gray clouds are sombre in the solemn sky, 
 
 The path is straight 
 Down to the sea whose dark waves I descry; 
 
 Nor may I wait. 
 
 Yet naught shall daunt me, if, still hand in hand. 
 
 Ye walk with me; 
 For ye, of all companions in life's land. 
 May cross that sea. 
 
 TO MY SISTER R. S. B. 
 
 Oh, broken-hearted mother! bowed in tears 
 Above the quiet form of thy dead boy. 
 
 Think how the current of the coming years 
 
 Had swept him from thee both in grief and joy. 
 123 
 
Now he is thine, and, in yon world of bliss. 
 Shall fly to meet thee with his innocent face 
 
 Lit with the love that bound your souls in this. 
 And thou shalt take thy own, thy mother-place. 
 
 Another bends above her new-born child. 
 
 With smiles of joy ! Oh God ! could we but see 
 
 Beyond earth's narrowing bounds, this anguish wild 
 Would soften into peace ; for, safe with Thee, 
 
 Shielded forever on Thy sheltering breast. 
 From sin and sorrow, this sweet boy is blest. 
 
 UHLAND'S DEATH OF A COUNTRY PASTOR 
 
 [Translated April 7. 1892.] 
 
 If unto parted souls the power remain. 
 Back to their earthly haunts to turn again. 
 Not in the moonlit shadows wouldst thou come. 
 When woe and longing only watch in gloom : 
 Ah, no ! but when some summer day shall dawn 
 With not a cloud in the wide blue of morn. 
 When the tall harvest nods in golden sheen 
 And blue and scarlet blossoms peep between. 
 Then thro' the meadows thou wilt walk once more, 
 And greet the reapers kindly as of yore. 
 
 1^4 
 
THE PYXIE OF THE PINE BARRENS 
 
 What did I say but now? 
 That earth was sad, life full of sordid cares? 
 While ever darker loomed the lonely years. 
 
 Did I say this but now? 
 
 A spicy pine breath fills my little room. 
 
 Rich in suggestions of awakening life; 
 These starry blossoms with their wild perfume 
 Recall a sweet, almost forgotten, dream: 
 A merry child I seem. 
 Unknowing of the city's noise and strife, 
 Hunting the Pyxie by the dark brown stream. 
 
 Tis she, this perfect thing. 
 This elf of briny lands, and resinous woods, 
 Who brings this vision of her solitudes 
 
 Where dawns the early_ spring. 
 
 Where is no greed of gold, no bitter sob 
 
 Of anguish, on that pure and pungent air. 
 Where life's full pulses to joy's rhythm throb. 
 
 Where no fierce passions, with discordant jar, 
 The harmony can mar, — 
 A world as alien from our struggling care 
 As tho* it breathed upon some sinless star. 
 
 125 
 
A NIGHT SONG 
 
 [from the GERMAN OF PAtTL GEROK] 
 
 He who keepeth Israel, slumbers not nor sleeps. — Psalm 121:4 
 
 Half rousing from my pillow, 
 
 The rushing brook I hear; 
 Only its murmurs break the peace 
 
 That broodeth everywhere. 
 
 And to me it softly singeth, 
 
 ** Rest thou, oh rest in peace ! 
 For God's water brooks of comfort 
 
 In flowing never cease." 
 
 Now the weary world is sleeping 
 
 Beneath night's sombre pall; 
 On field, on wood, and meadow 
 
 Refreshing night-dews fall. 
 
 And through my window peeping 
 
 I see a bright star gleam; 
 A tiny star, — my neighbor's roof 
 
 Catches its glinting beam. 
 
 Small comforter ! thou bringest 
 A tender thought to me; — 
 ** Sleep thou in peace ! " it seems to say, 
 " God watches over thee. 
 126 
 
See, sparkling through the midnight 
 
 His serried armies stand; 
 With golden arms they hold their charge 
 
 O'er all the quiet land." 
 
 Soothed by the brook's soft whisper 
 And by the star's clear shine, 
 
 I rest in trusting peace on Him 
 Who holds this soul of mine. 
 
 ROSE AND RAINBOW 
 
 Who can tell us, ah who.^ 
 
 How from the sunshine and dew 
 
 And the dark, damp lap of the earth, 
 The beautiful fragrant rose. 
 In her delicate sweetness grows 
 Till the heart of the summer glows. 
 
 In this exquisite birth! 
 
 The deadly mist of the sea. 
 How should it come to be 
 
 Yon arch of the radiant dyes? 
 Hath the sun, with a magic light. 
 Wrought all this rich delight? 
 Kissed the rose into beauty bright? 
 
 Hung the bow in the skies? 
 127 
 
Oh! Limitless Love Divine! 
 In sorrowful hearts so shine 
 
 That forth from the pain and the woe 
 Faith's blossom of healing shall rise; 
 And for the despairing eyes. 
 Shall dawn in the stormy skies, 
 
 Hope's shining bow. 
 
 IN MEMORY OF S. J. W. 
 
 WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE SEVENTH MONTH 16tH, 1890, 
 
 IN HIS 25th year. 
 
 Nay, Grief ! stand aside ; in the days yet to be. 
 
 Thou shalt have thy full will ; 
 Oh, Death ! come thou closer, and answer thou me. 
 
 Thou form stern and still. 
 
 Dost thou well thus to gather the purest, the best. 
 
 In this garden of life? 
 To pass by the weeds, and the plants sore oppressed 
 
 And broken by strife ? 
 
 What imbecile folly cuts down to the root 
 
 The most promising tree? 
 With the branches yet laden with ripening fruit. 
 
 That men glory to see? 
 128 
 
** Oh^ child of the earth ! He who gave may resume 
 And none question why; 
 Yet gaze on my face, till thro' shadow and gloom. 
 My soul meets thy eye. 
 
 ** Not mine to destroy ; — I but shatter the shell 
 And the spirit is free; 
 Thou thinkest, poor heart, that thou lovest well; — 
 As a drop to the sea, 
 
 " Is thy loving to His the wise Giver of death. 
 When He loosens life's load. 
 And summons His child from the conflict beneath 
 To the bosom of God? 
 
 ** Encompassed by shadows, thou seest my face 
 As an angel of doom; 
 Couldst thou view me aright in my heavenly place. 
 What light would illume! 
 
 " The God thou hast proved thro' thy life, still will keep 
 Thy dear dead evermore; 
 Then peace, — and in patient submission go weep, — 
 For He will restore." 
 
 129 
 
THE CHRYSALIS 
 
 A pendulous globe of pale, translucent green 
 
 Studded with glittering knobs of burnished gold, 
 I found one day beneath some brown leaves rolled. 
 
 And while I paused, wondering what this should mean. 
 
 Came a swift quiver, and ere clearly seen 
 
 The globe was rent, and to the tatters clung 
 The frailest creature with wet, crumpled wings ; 
 The weakest, slightest of all earth's slight things. 
 
 With gently waving pinions there it clung 
 
 Till, warmed and strengthened by the sun's mild power. 
 
 Away it soared, away in the broad air, 
 Joyous and full of life, a winged flower. 
 
 And I, whose heart was heavy with despair. 
 
 Turned homeward with swift feet, and happy smile, 
 Hope sang such rapturous melodies the while. 
 
 THE UNSPEAKABLE GIFT 
 
 O, blessed Light of God ! thou lead'st us out 
 
 From the bewildering subtlety of words; 
 That deadly mist that veils our fear and doubt. 
 
 Where sorrow-stricken men like famished herds 
 Caught in a briny marsh, stray aimlessly about. 
 Thou Gift unspeakable ! Thou Inward Light ! 
 
 Thy consecrating glory can uplift 
 The feeble spirit to sublimest height; 
 
 Quick to reprove, to comfort not less swift, 
 130 
 
Thou surest witness to the Father's love. 
 Thy gentle rays illume the path of Peace: 
 Athwart the gloom where Anguish sits i' the dust. 
 Thy sweet beams hover like a brooding dove, 
 Until she sighs, the while her sobbing cease, 
 I comprehend not, but / love, I trust. 
 
 A PROTEST 
 
 "What is it to grow old? 
 It is to spend long days 
 And not once feel that we were ever young; 
 It is to add immured 
 In the hot prison of the present 
 Month to month with weary pain." 
 
 — Matthew Arnold, 
 
 Aye? Is this growing old? Then we defy 
 Thy utmost power, Time ! Make white the hair. 
 
 Bow the frail form, and dim the sunken eye. 
 We shall not be thy thralls ! Thou mayst despair 
 Of touching hearts, while Love is nestling there, 
 
 Watching with wistful looks the young, who tread 
 With eager feet the paths we must forego. 
 
 We live in their success. Our hopes outspread 
 Our own life's narrow limit, and seize hold 
 
 On all sweet, noble deeds where'er they blow; 
 Wrap as thou wilt, this chrysalis, fold on fold, 
 While Love smiles in the heart, thou canst not make us old. 
 131 
 
LOVE'S CHOICE 
 
 " Which of all do we hold above. 
 Hearts most loving, or hearts we love? ** 
 
 — " Which? " in Century Magazine. 
 
 Nay, never ask ! do not we love the best 
 
 The yearning hands, our stronger ones enfold? 
 
 The love that yields its largesse is more blest. 
 
 Pouring its aflBuence, scorning any quest 
 If the return be small, or manifold. 
 Sure of an ardor that shall ne*er wax cold. 
 
 Love longs to give; is careless to receive: 
 Not whom I need, but who hath need of me. 
 
 Whom the gay multitude aside doth leave. 
 
 Whose gracious virtue I alone perceive. 
 Masters my soul, as doth the moon the sea. 
 Love's perfect flower bloomed once; — on Calvary. 
 
 EPICTETUS 
 
 Dare to look up to God, and say : Make use of me for the future as Thou 
 wilt. I am of the same mind; I am one with Thee; I refuse nothing which 
 seems good to Thee. Lead me whither thou wilt. . . What else can I 
 do, a lame old man, but sing hymns to God. — Discourses of Epictetus. 
 
 From beyond thy Olympus, O Greek! comes the wisdom that 
 brightens 
 Thy stern abnegation of self with faith in a purpose divine ; 
 Firmly thou facest the grisly phantom that frightens 
 
 Spirits who claim the support of truths more mighty than thine. 
 
 132 
 
Self -poised, in serenity smiling, thou stand'st in the vista of ages 
 Of all fate's arrows defiant, singing thy thanksgiving hymn; 
 
 Offering thy wild bitter herb, that the hunger of living assuages. 
 Gathered on rocky peaks, wlience the world looks barren and 
 dim. 
 
 We who have listened the words of a Voice beyond man's that 
 hath spoken. 
 We who dare gather the fulness of all the treasures of love. 
 Knowing the promise of One whose covenant cannot be broken. 
 We faint, and we question! oh pagan, how doth thy submis- 
 sion reprove! 
 
 How were this daily life illumed with a splendor supernal, 
 If a faith as staunch as was thine, were lit with a Christian 
 glow! 
 No stoic refusal of joy, but a trust in ** Our Father " eternal 
 Would transfigure the treadmill of earth to a heaven of love 
 below. 
 
 AN APPEAL 
 
 Oh! the innocent, happy life! 
 
 Embowered in blossoming apple trees ! 
 Singing to cheer the small brown wife 
 
 Rocked in her nest by each merry breeze. 
 
 The grateful hymn at the dawn of day. 
 
 The busy hurry thro' buoyant air. 
 Where toil is pleasure, and business play. 
 
 And singing the while — singing everywhere. 
 133 
 
A shotj and the joyous life is o'er; 
 
 A fluttering rag of feathers and blood 
 Is dashed to the earth; no singing more; 
 
 One bird less for orchard and wood. 
 
 Only a little^ blithe singing bird ! 
 
 One.' nay, millions! but what of that.^ 
 When Autocrat Fashion has spoken her word; 
 
 She must have their plumes for her winter hat. 
 
 Could the sobbing voices swell to a shriek 
 From forest and meadow and wild seashore. 
 
 Could their pitiful, helpless anguish speak. 
 Oh, who would covet their plumage more? 
 
 Sweet maiden, fair, with the tender eyes. 
 Your gentle spirit would surely shrink 
 
 From the hat where a murdered songster lies 
 In a mute reproach, if you would but think. 
 
 Let flowers and lustrous ribbons give 
 Enough of beauty and color glows; 
 
 But these lovely songsters, oh! let them live 
 And spare their pangs from earth's sum of woe. 
 
 134 
 
JACOB'S APPEAL 
 
 LOVE AND PASSION 
 
 Lol I asked Rachel in my dreaming youth: — 
 
 'Twas she I loved, Rachel the young, the fair, 
 
 The Vision, glory, — the true life of life. 
 
 Ideal of Passion, — never satiate. 
 
 And 'twas with Leah that thou put me off. 
 
 With her, the selfish, cruel, and the cold. 
 
 That men call love, but women selfishness. 
 
 By all the deeper anguish of my soul. 
 
 Yearning divine, that is not satisfied. 
 
 By all my dreams of joy most like a god's. 
 
 By all my trust in love, my hope in life, 
 
 I swear to thee, I shall not cease to serve 
 
 Till Rachel too, the promised, longed-for bride, 
 
 Be given to my arms, which are her home. 
 
 Lo ! the dread hour that showed my wrong to me ! 
 
 When the red dawn flashed thro' the marriage room. 
 
 And blushed o'er Leah in my close embrace. 
 
 That hideous form of man's wild, selfish lust. 
 
 Then did I swear to serve, and win from thee 
 
 Another bride and fairer; — even she. 
 
 The ever beautiful, the ever young, ■* 
 
 Unsating and unsated, — virgin still 
 
 Amid her marriage honors, — ^she, the pure. 
 
 The still divine, she whom we name as Love. 
 
 135 
 
THE WOUNDED EAGLE 
 
 I found an eagle^ wounded to the death, 
 
 Perched on a mountain crag, barren and bare; 
 
 So silent all, the foaming stream beneath 
 Alone disturbed the cool pine-scented air. 
 There was he set to die in proud despair. 
 
 No restless beating with impatient wings 
 
 Against the fate, inevitable, grim, 
 Nor yet the sullen sloth of meaner things. 
 
 Drooped the wide wing, and made the bold eye dim; 
 
 Death came apace but could not conquer him. 
 
 Then drew I near, and, with out-reaching arms. 
 Half fearful, yet all loving, him I drew 
 
 To my warm heart, that beat with vague alarms 
 As the wild helpless creature pressed thereto, 
 Nestling adown as small birds wont to do. 
 
 So stayed he till he died, without a sign. 
 Disdaining pain, but crouching ever near. 
 
 Gazing with dimming eyes still into mine. 
 As tho' my human sympathy were dear. 
 And, tho* all vain, he loved my tender care. 
 
 Soj should a barbed dart wound thee, dearest one, 
 Wouldst not thou stoop thy proud ambitious wing, 
 
 And seek anew the ties thou hast o'erflown. 
 Needing my loving hand to soothe the sting ^ — 
 For steady love the deepest peace doth bring, 
 
 136 
 
ROSES 
 
 When my darling lay so still and white, 
 
 Before they closed the coffin lid, 
 I gathered blush roses, pure and bright, 
 
 And with her their dewy sweetness hid. 
 
 They died in the fold of her pulseless hand. 
 And many others have graced the tree; 
 
 My heart's rose blooms in a fairer land; 
 No other blossom hath bloomed for me. 
 
 No winds reach her, no wintry blight 
 
 Shall check her unfolding to perfect grace; — 
 
 She waits my coming, my heart's delight. 
 To bless me again with her angel face. 
 
 No thievish hand shall gather my rose, 
 To crush her life out in slow degree. 
 
 At Christ's feet lowly she blooms and grows, 
 And I wait and pray for the grace to be. 
 
 She is not lost to me, she my sweet, 
 
 My fair May blossom, her mother's pride; — 
 
 For the delicate print of her rosy feet. 
 To her own home, is my sure, dear guide. 
 
 Roses fade and their bloom renew 
 
 All as the varied seasons roll; 
 But in God's own sunlight, and smile and dew. 
 
 Shall she blossom, the Rose of my Soul. 
 137 
 
"ENFANTS PERDU" 
 
 Where are they wandering over the world. 
 
 Society's outcasts, detested and feared? 
 Nature's lost children, whom ye may know. 
 
 Some by the brow so defiantly reared. 
 Some by their scornful and gay flaunting mien. 
 Some by a dogged indifference to sin. 
 
 Lost children! kind Nature, thy children? ah no! 
 
 With pity instinctive thy grand heart still throbs, 
 Thou givest them all in thy power — a grave — 
 
 And over them sadly thy winter wind sobs. 
 Thy bounty is poured for them fully and free; 
 For lives that are ruined they cannot curse thee. 
 
 For them, as for us who stand unsmirched and proud. 
 
 Thy clear stars and blue sky and the warm kissing sun. 
 
 Thy winds thro* the pines, thy sweet wildwood blooms. 
 Thy streamlets that murmur *neath trees as they run. 
 
 For them, as for us, all thy beauty, thy joy. 
 
 Thou Blesser of all! ah, thou couldst not destroy. 
 
 "WE ARE THE OLD WOMEN OF TO-DAY' 
 
 The glory and the beauty of the spring. 
 
 The summer's glowing bloom, — 
 These are departed, yet doth autumn bring 
 
 Its blessing and perfume. 
 138 
 
Fruits ripened by the sunshine and the shower. 
 
 Harvests of quiet thought, — 
 Are these less precious than the early flower, 
 
 These that the years have brought? 
 
 Amid the snows of age, the heart is warm. 
 
 The spirit laughs at years; 
 Escapes the trammels of the failing form 
 
 And wings to timeless spheres. 
 
 Old women ? yes, but youthful souls no less. 
 
 Heart unto heart still true; 
 Affection hath as strong a power to bless 
 
 As when our life was new. 
 
 Beneath the fetter of the ice-bound sod. 
 
 Life throbs within the root, 
 And in the future 'neath the smile of God 
 
 Shall yield its perfect fruit. 
 
 WHOM HE LOVETH HE CHASTENETH 
 
 Let it not irk thee, that so sore beset 
 Is that brave soul, thou knowest true, and good; 
 These trials do but prove his hardihood; 
 Staunch as he is, they make him stauncher yet. 
 Nor stain thy love for him with vain regret 
 That lonely is the path he treads, and bleak; 
 Such strenuous climbing is not for the weak 
 Who stumble on amid earth's daily fret. 
 139 
 
*Tis the apt scholar that the Master proves, 
 After each conquest, with a harder task. 
 Smiling in joy, to see the ardent life 
 Develop to the perfect thing he loves. 
 The bramble in the smi may idly bask, 
 But the rare vine must feel the pruning knife. 
 
 STEADFAST IN COURAGE 
 
 The clouds may come, but the clouds must go. 
 
 Ever the calm blue stays; — 
 The day dawn never fails, we know. 
 
 Though long the night delays. 
 
 And if life's burdens weary seem. 
 
 There yet are restful hours. 
 When, lingering by thought's tranquil stream. 
 
 We gather fadeless flowers. 
 
 Then only speak thy cheer, sweet friend! 
 
 Repress all faithless fears; 
 This world of ours soon would end 
 
 Were not more smiles than tears. 
 
 The tiniest flower that lifts its cup 
 
 For the restoring dew. 
 Trusts not in vain; oh! then look up 
 
 Remembering God is true. 
 140 
 
Evil and dark the clouds, alas! 
 
 'Neath which our souls oft bow; 
 Yet — patience! and the darkest pass 
 
 For God reigns here and now. 
 
 THE RETURN 
 
 'It is our mother's bosom that we seek in all the sorrows of life." 
 
 I am weary of wandering, mother, 
 
 Now let me sit down at your feet; 
 For the shadows are stretching across the floor. 
 
 And the dew-damp air is sweet. 
 Now far away o'er the harvest field. 
 The moon comes up like a blood-red shield. • ni\Y 
 
 I have roamed all the summer day, mother, 
 
 Down thro' the old dim wood, 
 Where not a sunbeam can find its way 
 
 To the depth of the solitude. 
 Where the stream runs dark 'neath the arching trees. 
 Unstirred by the wayward summer breeze. 
 
 But I did not wander alone all day. 
 
 For a radiant friend was mine; 
 And we talked of a thousand wondrous things. 
 
 Half earthly and half divine. 
 Such bliss it was never my lot to prove, 
 For, mother, you've guessed? that I talked with Love. 
 141 
 
But, oh, my mother — and here is the grief. 
 
 When even came sad and mild, 
 He spread his pinions for fairer lands; 
 
 Oh, mother, enfold your child. 
 And soothe me to rest with some old-time song. 
 For it seems to me I've been wandering long. 
 
 A NEW YEAR HYMN 
 
 Welcome, oh dark veiled guest ! whose stealthy feet 
 Swift, unreturning, at our fireside pause; 
 Joyous we greet thee, knowing not what cause 
 
 Of joy be ours, ere thy passage fleet; 
 
 Whether thy days be bitter, sad, or sweet. 
 
 We welcome what thou bring'st, whate'er it be. 
 Loving and trusting Him who ruleth thee. 
 
 Thou com'st a fresh, fair gift, unmarred by aught 
 Of human passions; ere thy course be told. 
 What sorrows and what cares shall make thee old! 
 Weighing thee heavily with anxious thought, 
 A sombre robe of human feeling wrought. 
 Yet not in vain ; oh no, 'tis not in vain. 
 This spelling of life's task in care and pain. 
 
 Not with faint courage do we bid thee, hail! 
 Beyond thy rule, beyond all such as thou 
 We see a guerdon for the teaching now, 
 142 
 
We con a splendid issue to life's tale; 
 
 And a clear faith, and hope that cannot fail. 
 
 Whisper : " Be patient, when the years shall cease, 
 Sweet is the victory, sweet God's perfect peace." 
 
 THE TALE OF A SHIP 
 
 Into the haven at last 
 
 Storm-driven she flees ! 
 A fluttering rag at her mast, 
 
 A wreck from the seas. 
 
 Tender and blue was the sky 
 
 In the morn when she sailed; 
 So she lingered; the hours flew by 
 
 Till the daylight had paled. 
 
 Then the tempest broke forth o'er the world 
 
 And lashed the wild wave : 
 All the waters upon her seemed hurled; 
 
 Yet she held true and brave. 
 
 The horrors of sky and of sea 
 Made her staunch timbers thrill. 
 
 Yet she stayed not her course, nay, not she, 
 But struggled on still. 
 
 Stripped of her beauty and pride. 
 
 Sorely crippled, and strained. 
 Her victory's sign doth abide, 
 
 For her flag hath remained, 
 143 
 
In harbor at last! broken! old! 
 
 In peace rests she now ! 
 This tale of a ship I have told. 
 
 Is it I? Is it thou? 
 
 THE UNRETURNING 
 
 Earth, knowing not eld, in thy youth all divine. 
 Though the ages unceasing are evermore thine. 
 Once more be birth-thrilled, until forth from thy womb 
 Throng the myriad forms of the world's waking bloom. 
 
 For the sweet o* the year, great Earth-mother, is here. 
 And lo! on the uplands the flowers appear. 
 And blithe is the wing, and the song it is glad. 
 And our yearning hearts only are heavy and sad. 
 
 Earth, mother undying, thy tender arms keep 
 So safe in thy bosom the dear things asleep. 
 So strong is thy pulse-beat to bid them again 
 Know battle and conquest, and hunger and pain. 
 
 The insistence of growth, the fair crown of the leaf. 
 The fruit in its ripeness, the rich bending sheaf — 
 Earth, this thou canst do, yet our dearer loves go. 
 And return not again from their beds hallowed low. 
 
 Our hearts are nigh breaking with bliss and with dole; 
 In the midst of the rapture, how lonely the soul! 
 Comes the bird to the green bough, the bud to the tree. 
 But not from the darkness my darling to me. 
 
 — Margaret E. Sangster, in Harper's Bassar, 
 144 
 
THE ANSWER OF EARTH 
 
 [Refer to poem by Margaret E. Sangster.] 
 
 " The insistence of growth^ the fair crown of the leaf. 
 The fruit in its ripeness, the rich bending sheaf — 
 Earth, this thou canst do, yet our dearer loves go, 
 And return not again from their beds hallowed low." 
 
 — *' The Unreturning." 
 
 Thro' the myriad murmurs of life in my breast. 
 Thy sorrow, oh daughter! breaks in on my rest. 
 I restore what I may, the spring bloom to the tree. 
 But thy darling has parted forever from me. 
 
 I folded her form in my silent embrace, 
 
 A mask that was void of all beauty, all grace; 
 
 And all that was given, again I must yield 
 
 In the mould of the valley, the grass of the field. 
 
 Thy love, with her smiles and her tears, was not mine; 
 What I never received then, how can I resign? 
 My Master has written a message for thee. 
 Full many a token He sends thee by me. 
 
 Has He formed for the air, the swift wing of a bird^ 
 And the sorrowful cry of a heart be unheard? 
 Not a need of my tiniest child but is met. 
 And shall He his own human creature forget? 
 
 Naught know I of sorrow, of evils, or woes: 
 I cherish the nightshade as well as the rose. 
 The tiger and lamb are both children of mine. 
 But what have / to do with these darlings of thine ? 
 
 145 
 
E'EN AT JOY'S FEAST 
 
 E'en at joy's feast was my soul sad and lone! 
 Hollow the laughter; and an undertone 
 Swept off the mirth into a dreary moan, 
 
 E'en at joy's feast. 
 The tender blossoms faded out so soon ! 
 Some discord jarred thro' every sweetest tune 
 
 Ere it had ceased. 
 
 Sighing, I turned me from the careless throng. 
 And wandering woful the wild wastes among 
 One stayed me with a gentle grasp, but strong: — 
 
 ** Be thou my guest ! " 
 She broke the bread of life to me, and poured 
 The wine of sorrow; — at her frugal board 
 
 First found I rest. 
 
 She wore no garlands, — no blithe song she raised. 
 
 And while I bided, peaceful yet amazed, 
 
 I found one with her whom all hearts have praised. 
 
 I followed Duty 
 And found a household guest beside her hearth. 
 Sweet-eyed Content, who fills with joy the earth, 
 
 And life with beauty. 
 
 146 
 
COLUMBUS 
 
 DIED, VALLADOLID, 1506 
 
 111 ! poor ! forsaken ! with life's tide at ebb ! — 
 And I, the man who gave a world to Spain ! 
 
 Yet as I gaze on life's bewildering web, 
 One grand design grows plain. 
 
 Thro' all, oh God ! I trace Thy guiding hand ; 
 
 Thro' years of waiting, heart-sickness, and scorn. 
 Thy will hath ruled my pride, the scheme I planned 
 
 By Thee was overborne. 
 
 What matters how earth's brief, dark days are spent. 
 When for the future work is being done? 
 
 In this, Thy work, I was Thy instrument. 
 Unworthy, yet Thine own. 
 
 It is enough, dear Christ ! Thou givest to me. 
 More than enough for this short life's distress. 
 
 In this revenge that binds me close to Thee; — 
 For wrongs, for wounds, I bless. 
 
 I have had raptures, too; ah, the sweet joy 
 When first that faint fair opal blest our eyes. 
 
 So pale it seemed a rude wind might destroy. 
 Like clouds in evening skies. 
 
 I see it now in memory shining clear 
 As at that twilight in the glittering sea, 
 
 I see the happy homes that gather there 
 In the grand days to be. 
 147 
 
And as on Saint Maria's midnight deck, 
 Faint odors whispered of the far-off shore, 
 
 I catch the tokens others little reck, 
 Of land ahead once more. 
 
 And so across life's fitful stormy tide, 
 
 I steer with courage firm my shattered bark, 
 
 For high above the waves. Thy star, my guide. 
 Beckons across the dark. 
 
 "AS A LITTLE CHILD" 
 
 Wild was the storm ! The small bark thrilled 
 
 Beneath the stress of wind and wave; 
 With terror every heart was filled. 
 
 There seemed no human power to save. 
 But as the livid lightning glared 
 
 A gentle whisper reached my ear, 
 " Dear lady, do not be so scared. 
 
 For, don't you know, my Father's here.'' " 
 
 Rebuked were anxious thoughts and fears; 
 
 I bent to thank her with a kiss. 
 That little maid, whose three brief years 
 
 Endued with such a faith as this. 
 While we whose silvering hairs attest 
 
 The love that folds us close about, 
 We who should trust '* our Father " best. 
 
 Dishonor by our timid doubt. 
 148 
 
The sudden summer rage soon passed; 
 
 The dark clouds turned to snowy fleece: 
 And a sweet thought around me cast 
 
 A tender radiance of peace. 
 Oft since;, when o'er life's changing sky 
 
 The tempest gathers dark and wild^ 
 My heart has put its terror by 
 
 To trust as did that loving child. 
 
 PETITIONS 
 
 Grant unto me^ dear Father ! grant to me 
 
 The anointed eye, to see 
 Thy consecrating touch on humble things. 
 
 The rainbow on the wings 
 Of the small fly: the beauty that makes fair 
 
 The creatures of Thy care. 
 May never custom dull the quick delight 
 
 Of changing day and night; 
 Of kindly glance, and childhood's joyous smile. 
 
 And all that doth beguile 
 The spirit from the sordid world awhile. 
 
 Sweet is the holy anthem of the thrush 
 
 In twilight's solemn hush ; 
 And sweet the twitter, like low murmurous words, 
 
 Of the shy, brooding birds; 
 Soft cadences, too intimately dear 
 
 For careless mortal ear. 
 149 
 
The wayside herb no less perfection shows 
 
 Than does the splendid rose ; 
 These of God's wondrous book are modest leaves. 
 
 Which he who well perceives 
 A web of constant joy about him weaves. 
 
 Grant me, oh Gracious Giver that Thou art. 
 
 An ever-grateful heart, 
 Unchilled by disappointment, quick to heed 
 
 Those who around me bleed. 
 A heart by hope and faith kept unafraid 
 
 To meet life undismayed; 
 A loving heart, that through all good and ill 
 
 Pours forth affection still ; 
 A peaceful heart howe'er by tempests driven. 
 
 Knowing it well hath striven. 
 Wliat need of more to make of earth a heaven? 
 
 "THE SONG OF THE LARK*' 
 
 A PICTURE BY BRETON 
 
 Thrilled with a nameless bliss, behold her stand. 
 The sturdy daughter of the stubborn soil ; 
 
 Her ready sickle in her sunburnt hand. 
 Her skirt upkilted for her daily toil. 
 
 What aspiration wakes her sluggish brain, 
 And lights a sudden wonder in her eyes. 
 
 As all agape she listens to the rain 
 
 Of rapturous trilling from dawn's rosy skies.'' 
 150 
 
She has no words for the strange, happy thought. 
 She only feels the dull, monotonous day 
 
 From that sweet bubbling melody hath caught 
 A glow of beauty on its vapid gray. 
 
 Strange visions, vague and lovely, lift her heart 
 Above life's penury and bitter need. 
 
 As beneath springtide suns, to being start 
 The tender leaflets of a buried seed. 
 
 Oh joy ! that although earth is stern and dark 
 And closely round the heavy feet may cling, 
 
 The soul can spring beyond it, with yon lark. 
 And rising up toward heaven, blithely sing. 
 
 THE ONE REFUGE 
 
 If life were always summer. 
 
 If hearts were ever young, 
 And sorrow a chance comer 
 
 Our brilliant days among; 
 The soul brave 'mid such glory. 
 
 Might trust her native pride; 
 And scorning Faith's sweet story, 
 
 Choose Reason for her guide. 
 
 But the year waxes older. 
 
 Dark grows the threatening sky; 
 When sombre clouds enfold her 
 
 Ah! whither shall she fly.^ 
 151 
 
When happiness is fleeing 
 
 Before misfortune's gale, 
 And slow the heart is beatings 
 
 While strength and courage fail, 
 
 Twere far too sad for weeping. 
 
 Too bitter for despair. 
 Were all her aid in keeping 
 
 Of Reason cold and clear. 
 But joy! that upward reaching 
 
 Beyond all she can prove. 
 To the sad souFs beseeching 
 
 Respond the arms of Love. 
 
 Oh ye, who measure heaven. 
 
 Ye who can weigh the stars. 
 The powers to you given 
 
 Throb within mortal bars. 
 Not to knowledge, but to feeling. 
 
 The deepest truths unroll; — 
 Amid the clouds revealing 
 
 Her Father to the soul. 
 
 cm BONO! 
 
 Riches are mine, beauty and youth and all 
 The graces of a cultivated mind. 
 The fairest blessings that on mortals fall 
 Were poured on me and left no sting behind; 
 Yet, *mid my glory and amid my pride, 
 152 
 
A demon, querulous and sombre-browed, 
 Stalked like a blighting mildew at my side, 
 And cried, " What good ! — what good ! " 
 
 Oh ! I had crowds of friends, and they were true ; 
 Lovers were mine, none could be better loved. 
 Yet, like chaste Diane, in the ether blue, 
 I walked amid their incense all unmoved. 
 Cold I was not, for, forth from all the crowd, 
 Some few in my affections foremost stood. 
 And with an open hand my gift I poured; 
 But still the demon cried, " What good ! '* 
 
 In youthful eagerness to soothe distress 
 
 My hand was ever open for relief. 
 
 And if true prayers had Heaven's power to bless, 
 
 My loves and sorrows had been very brief. 
 
 But as a man walks in the sim, yet feels 
 
 A damp cold breath as from a murky wood. 
 
 So 'mid prosperity, still at my heels. 
 
 Came the duU cry—" What good! " 
 
 Hoarser and more impatient grew the cry. 
 As up life's hill ascended my strong feet. 
 Until it seemed as if the earth and sky 
 In fearful echoes did the words repeat. 
 Embittered all the sources of my peace, 
 Hopeless, defiant with blind wrath, I stood. 
 And bade the fearful thing its horror cease. 
 But still it cried the more — " What good ! " 
 153 
 
My friends forsook me as my furrowed brow 
 Betokened thoughts beyond their sympathy; 
 My lovers left me, for they knew that now 
 I was no subject for a passion's sigh. 
 My heart grew hardened to the woes around. 
 Before my misery my firm soul was cowed. 
 And shuddered like at death before the sound 
 Of that forlorn " What good ! " 
 
 Then met me one within whose sad, sweet eyes 
 A thousand thoughts looked forth, of pity born. 
 His whispers thrilled me; " Why these heavy sighs? 
 Tell me, oh daughter, wherefore dost thou mourn? " 
 I could not tell, for words came none, but, falling 
 Before His feet, my angry soul was bowed; 
 No more I dreaded that eternal calling. 
 Here was the perfect good. 
 
 For what had been the end of life seemed only 
 The proving means to fairer life to win; 
 And gazing on Him, standing sad and lonely, 
 Burdened, alone, with all our grief and sin. 
 My whole heart melted to His sweet control. 
 And to abide by Him, my faith I vowed; 
 And when He left, the demon of my soul 
 Shrank at my cry: " This is the perfect good! " 
 
 154 
 
THE CROWNED CORINNE 
 
 ** Happy — happier far than thou. 
 With the laurel on thy brow — 
 She that makes the humblest hearth 
 Lovely but to one on earth." 
 
 At last, alone ! shut close the latticed door, 
 Safe from intrusive eyes upon the street; 
 
 How very sweet to be alone once more. 
 Listening the echo of departing feet. 
 
 And yield to all the tender dreams that come 
 To glorify my home! 
 
 *Twas a proud day ! and yet I am more glad 
 And happier that 'tis o'er; this laurel wreath 
 
 Thrills me with joy, and yet a memory sad 
 Quivers with anguish and despair beneath; 
 
 My country crowns me, yet she seems to say, 
 ** Put womanhood away." 
 
 I know of dearer things than this, to stand 
 The admired centre of all curious eyes; 
 
 Where every flower blooming for love's hand 
 In the white glare, pales utterly, and dies. 
 
 And, like a stranger to your sex, you see 
 What happy women be! 
 155 
 
Yes ! I remember as we neared the hill 
 
 Where stands the Capitol, a woman pressed 
 
 Near to my car, and nearer yet, until 
 I looked upon the baby at her breast; 
 
 Nestled in loving arms, so trustfully. 
 It slept, unheeding me. 
 
 And she — ah me! in that my proudest hour, 
 I could but mark the perfect happiness 
 
 That gave to features plain such potent power. 
 My world-praised beauty seemed to me far less : 
 
 Those tender clinging arms had brought a charm 
 The cestus could but harm. 
 
 And there were others, who, with glance at me. 
 Sitting aloft in splendid pomp, would turn 
 
 To dearer eyes, as though to bid me see 
 
 How woman's heart for love, not fame, will yearn. 
 
 And then I felt, as my proud car moved on, 
 Amid a crowd, alone. 
 
 Ah me ! my woman's heart ! will laurel crown. 
 Triumphal cars, and praises loudly spread. 
 
 Fill the large soul that must live on alone. 
 Or find companions only 'mid the dead. 
 
 Whose grand philosophy must ever move 
 More reverence than love? 
 
 But if for me love's tender happiness 
 
 Be all denied, yet thou, my Italy, 
 My heart's own country, hath such power to bless. 
 
I cannot but be happy, loving thee: — 
 Poet and artist for thy sake, I lay 
 My womanhood away. 
 
 Vanish, ye visions, from my longing eyes. 
 Of sweet, domestic joy, and household bliss; 
 
 Where lingers earth's last gleam of paradise 
 In hallowed love and childhood's guileless kiss. 
 
 No myrtle wreath for me shall lover twine, — 
 The laurel crown is mine! 
 
 A MESSAGE FROM PARADISE 
 
 Why mean you by this weeping 
 
 To break my very heart? 
 We both are in Christ's keeping, 
 
 And therefore cannot part. 
 
 You there, I here, tho' severed. 
 We still, at heart, are one; 
 
 I only just in sunshine, 
 
 The shadows scarcely gone. 
 
 What if the clouds surround you. 
 You can the brightness see: — 
 
 *Tis only just a little way 
 That leads from you to me. 
 157 
 
I was so very weary^ 
 
 Surely you could not mourn 
 That I a little sooner 
 
 Should lay my burden down! 
 
 Then weep not, weep not, darling, 
 God wipes away all tears; — 
 
 'Tis only yet a little while. 
 Though you may call it years. 
 
 168 
 
Along the path of sorrow hast thou led. 
 
 Oh Dear and True! and we with faltering feet. 
 
 Lured by these voices tremulous and sweet, 
 
 Have followed slowly. Now thy work is sped, 
 
 And thou hast passed beyond our Night and Day, 
 
 Our griefs and doubtings, w'hile our groping eyes 
 
 Ponder life's primer still; for thee, dear Heart, 
 
 Our Father opens wide the second part. 
 
 Where all the meaning of Death's anguish lies. 
 
 Stumbling, we follow. Ah! if thou couldst know 
 
 How yet thy hand hath power to help, and cheer. 
 
 E'en heaven's joy an added bliss would wear. 
 
 And we who love thee well and miss thee so. 
 
 Amid our loneliness and bitter tears. 
 
 Thank God that we have had thee all these years. 
 
 159 
 
JUN 9 191! 
 
One copy del. to Cat. Div.