LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. ?at^¥i Chap._ Copyright No, Shelt-rS-a-S fc ^4 I J ■: UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Songs of Cwo peoples. SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES / By JAMES RILEY AUTHOR or " POEMS," STC. BOSTON ESTES & LAURIAT MDCCCXCVIII c 2ncl COPY, 1898. TWO COPIES BECEIVED. COPYT^TGHT, 1898, BY JAMES RILEY. To Mr. Charles E. Hurd, WITH ALL THE DEEP REGARD WHICH FRIENDSHIP CLAIMS, THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR. "^^ CONTENTS. I. Songs of New England. PAGE Marlton Cattle Show .... 9 The Fixing of the Clock .... 15 Fresh Hayin' 23 Thanksgiving Day at Aunt Sally's . 29 My Willow Whistle 34 A Foggy Morning 37 Brother Jonathan Lectures His Adopted 40 When We Took the Papers ... 43 Song of the May . ' . . . . 48 Marion Harbor 49 II. Ireland and Her People. My Road at Tang The House Beyant the Hill Con Grady .... Morning at Killarney My Shannon River 53 60 63 67 70 CONTENTS. The Traveler in the Sun Erin Awakened . The Waters of the Lee . PAGE 72 75 78 III. Miscellaneous. The Nativity 81 Palos — Hispaniola — 1492 86 The Teachers 90 A Dream of the Beautiful 93 The American Flag .... 95 The Thief 96 The Waters of the Soul . 99 The Harvest Day .... 102 An October Day 105 The Broad Lakes of Bradore . 108 The Falls of Dhoon .... hi Well Enough and Tidy New . "3 Eyes, Turn from What You See 115 My Mother 117 The Peddler from Peru . 120 The River 123 Aspiration 126 A Daffodil 129 The First Step 130 The Poet's Grave .... 131 I. SONGS OF NEW ENGLAND. Ittarlton Cattle Slfoto, 'THE fields were white and frosty and the sun was on them bright, As down the meadow road we drove in autumn's morning light ; Saw crops of corn and pumpkins, and orchards bend their load, And groaning, rare-ripe peach trees, making joyous all the road. Barnyard fowl all loudly calling, broke cheerily the day, And weather-cocks, like drifting gold, seemed answering screech of jay. Forests, with their colors vivid, opened out to field and stream. And burning, distant, golden spires, completed all the dream. SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. All of this I saw in wonder on that morning long ago, When with my Uncle Ned I rode to Marl ton Cattle Show. Rode, and crossed the Herring River, sparkling, with its mills to cheer; Miles on miles of streaming sunshine breaking on my vision clear. Passed Tihonet cross-roads bravely leading up the hill for Stowe, To see beyond the world that day on wheels for cattle show. Trotting, racing, passing, wheels all dazzling in the sun; I knew not where joy ended, but was sure it had begun. And when my Uncle said to me, " See all you can to-day ! " And cracked the whip, and drew the rein, and pulled into the fray, I saw but one long white road all shining in the glow Of a sun that on was leading far to Marlton Cattle Show. MARLTON CATTLE SHOW. My Uncle would have said much more, but a team then tried to pass, And down the hill, and cross the bridge we raced with Hiram Glass. Drove through the Eber Village, reaching farther in the day ! With Hiram just behind us, while before they cleared the way. Then leading up, past Saunders' store, we headed right through Stowe ! With all the people shouting, " Hi, there, for cattle show ! " So we rode and beat brave Hiram, till our wheels locked with Sam Coke's ; Held our place ten feet beyond him, till we stopped to fix up spokes. Then Uncle said (off-handed), " Such accidents, you know, Are happening right along, my lad, driving to cattle show ! Can't always tell, in driving, just when you ought to stop ! The wheel is dished, I notice ; but we'll find a black- smith's shop." SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES, At Warren's Mills we changed the wheel ; the sign was " Alvin Stiles " ; And his son, joung Alvin, showed us a way that saved five miles. And so we came on Hiram with his horse balked at the gate, And as we passed cried Uncle, " Hi, I think you will be late ! " The Arabian Nights and Crusoe were as nothing to the light That now in bright confusion broke on my aston- ished sight. There were acres upon acres of living white and black, A thousand people up in air, and horses on the track ; While a fellow loud was shouting to the jockeys down below. Till flying gigs and ribbons strained, swept down the course aglow. It was then I got excited, stood right on the wagon seat, And shouted for the white horse, the second in the heat I MARLTON CATTLE SHOW. He reached it, too, that white horse ! and as he passed the stand, I thought it was my shouting that made him look so grand ! In the yards were hogs and horses, sheep and cattle, cooped-up flocks Of premium geese and turkeys, Shanghai fowl, and Plymouth Rocks. Farther on were tents and streamers ; one man writ- ing with his toes ; And princes from the farthest East in dime and nickel shows. Swings and hawkers, singing women ; one old man, in white cravat. Showed the world in panorama from Bull Run to Ararat. I don't think Pandemonium had ever half such sounds As cracked my ear with jargon loud, that day at Marlton Grounds. There were peddlers, dudes, and fakirs, where we sat down to eat A dinner that I relished, till the drums began to beat: SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Then, looking up, the Governor, and all the guests so grand, Including Hiram Glass, passed by to music of the band. " Can we go, Uncle, too?" I asked. He answered, "That's too high; A dollar for a dinner is too much for me to buj." A cloud came on the sun just then ; it passed, but left its thrall- To me a lasting memory of that march up to the hall ! And ever after, all that day, a secret, sorrowing thrill Came on me when I looked and saw the building on the hill. THE FIXING OF THE CLOCK. C^e filing of tl^e Clocft. A TRUE STORY. T NEVER shall forget the night we waited for the knock Of Uncle Reuben Allen White to come and fix our clock, — The clock that in the corner tall faced the great fire- logs snapping, Where glad the firelight glowed for all, e'en to the old cat napping. The windows rattled loud and fast, wild struck the snow the pane, And up the chimney roared the blast behind the potted crane. The great old elms shrieked long and loud, rose bushes in the storm As ghosts of June in shriven shroud wild beat the windows warm. 15 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. We had waited and expected, — mother in her high- backed chair, Artd father with his ear at poise, — I see him listen- ing there. "Hark, a knock!" he says, and speaks: "Take the candle, John, and start!" The shed door swings, a loose board squeaks, — I'm in the entry part. Dried apples, stringed, hang in my way, a mouse- box on the catch, I set the candle where 'twill stay, and lift the iron latch. 'Twas Uncle ! coated, muffled thick! comforter, and hat down ! I brushed him off with corn broom quick ; he entered, and sat down ! Father stood up and tonged the coals, and I put three more sticks on ! And mother said, "I know you're cold; set back thar you, John Dickson. John Edward, get the little brush ! Set back you, too, Nance Dyer; Now, Reuben, don't you mind the slush ; stomp your boots right front the fire." i6 THE FIXING OF THE CLOCK, We jumped around and did as told ! — snow lumped on Uncle's breeches, Tied at the bottom, warmth to hold, — mother, knit- ting, lost three stitches ! She picked them up, and moved around, the circle one chair wider ! At me for laughing slightly frowned, while Uncle sat beside her. Then asked for Hulda, Sam, and Lute, and Susan's hacking cough ; Said elm-bark, dock, and arrowroot, stewed up, would ease it off! So said my mother! she used herbs! had cures for every hurt ! A set of indigestion curbs, from sage to thorough- wort! Now Uncle, sitting back a pace, was getting things together ; A brush, a hammer, and a case which held a turkey feather. I see him now as on that night, though decades in- tervene, The central figure of a bright, glad, rustic farm- house scene. 17 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. A boj he may have been " Rube White," but won- drous grew to be ; He made all wooden clocks go right, and "Thank you " was his fee. 'Tis true, that time, I did not know my uncle in those parts Which give a nation healthful glow, in purity of hearts. The young eye past the common thing with instinct sees the true, The hope that goes beyond the wing of bird upon the blue ! Age talks to youth of its bright days and holds up Memory's glass, And well the lesson it conveys, if truths said do not And so it is I turn to-night with loving key the lock, And bring back Uncle Reuben White come down to fix our clock. Tall, sixty summers gave to him their blessedness of parts, An eye Time's shadow could not dim, a heart for other hearts. i8 THE FIXING OF THE CLOCK. A blacksmith of no mean renown, his cheery anvil rang! At night, the cares of day all flown, some ancient hymn he sang And yet, full forty acres broad, smiled from his hand that planted ; For rain or shine he thanked the Lord, and hoed his row undaunted. He held aloft one shining light to be his guide for- ever! To dare maintain his views of right, though dearest friend should sever! With healthful cheek, on Sunday trim, and hair of driven snow. All human kindness was in him, and words their overflow. From these cold, passing, present days, when lux- uries invite, I turn me to the simple ways of good old Uncle White. The ways and days deserving praise — the farmer's unstarched collar. Is more to me than all that sways, where Trade pa- rades her dollar. 19 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. And Uncle White, our clock for test, that night in simple round, Showed greatest act, for cause may rest within a nutshell's bound. I never saw such change take place ! I, holding can- dle there ! The poor clock's hands wrenched from its face, it answered with a stare ! And when he lifted from its trunk the blank, de- spairing head, My faith in Uncle Reuben shrunk; "You've gone too far," I said. Its wooden brains all knocked about, our clock that night he handled ! The king that was, turned inside out, unfeelingly he mangled ! He laid it on the table dead ! far from its high estate ! '* I'll touch it up with oil," he said, *' and then 't will go first rate ! " He took a walnut from his vest, solemn and ven- erable ! Said, *' Walnut oil, I think, is best," and laid it on the table. THE FIXING OF THE CLOCK. ••Now, from that nut, I'll take" — he thought — ** oil for a dozen clocks ! " And on the table's face he brought his fist, and loudly knocks ! Job and myself are thunderstruck! "Now then," says Uncle, " hammer! " The nut is cracked ! he gives a look ! then says, without a stammer, ••John, bring me here a tablespoon — an iron one preferred ! " And stewing out the oil was soon, while loud the old cat purred ! Now Uncle, feathering with care each secret, dried- up bearing, Says, •' Oil, my boy, is everywhere! there's no need of despairing!" " Some folks don't know it's in a nut ! Some know, but never crack it ! But those who do, know where is put what buys the boy the jacket ! " The storm had slackened on the pane, the fire was modest burning, As Uncle, muffled up again, stood ready for return- ing. SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. *' Eleven," the old clock sounds its soul, — -its well- oiled insides proving. *'I guess," said Uncle, " on the whole, it's time that I was moving," And as I stood on threshold there, — trees silent in their shrouds, — ''Good night," said Uncle; "I declare, the moon has cracked the clouds ! " FRESH HAYIN'. IT'S all well to jest write about the summer an' the ^ haj, An' git yer mind a-thinkin' that the farmer's life is play; But you come right deown tew it, an' mow, an' rake, an' sweat Fer sixteen yaller August hours, you'd write of it, I bet! You'd run along into the lines the bright days an' the black ones. The hummocked an' unhummocked fields, the truth- ful tongues an' slack ones. Swa! swa! the grass a-fallin', an' steppin' at the stroke, Them's made fer it, a-talkin', but me, I never spoke. The day I worked fer Deacon Slade, in pay fer work he'd done Fer us a-plowin' in the spring, I tell ye warnt no fun. An' if a little incident put the whole thing right down deep Into my heart an' clinched it there, it's yourn from this to keep. 23 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. The deacon he was peaked, a potater small an' shaded, Who buttered both sides of his bread when hoss or cow he traded ! An' when he come to us that night, fer me to go fresh hajin', He thought 'bout fifty cents a day, on 'count, would be good payin'. Wall, so 'twas sot at fifty cents, though some folks kinder nigh. Thought that bill for greensoard ploughin' was a leetle mite too high. At break o' day we started, rakes, an' scythes, an' forks all in. To ride six miles to Hawkins Brook, this side o' Tispaquin. Hung scythes an' struck in ; youngest, the dew off, I went spreadin'. The deacon he still mowin' with Pat G^irk and Zenas Gledden. "Lookout, thar!" cried the deacon; "see that grass that I left stannin'.? It's a nest o' yaller tails ! Look out ! " I heeded his commandin'. 24 FRESH HAYIN'. At dinner bj the brook, 'twas thought we'd done about four acres ; An' Pat Quirk said, between his bread, it was too much, "bejakers." Said, **When ye bite more'n ye can chew — ." He reddened, couldn't swaller — Then lifted up the water jug, an' drank, an' loosed his collar. The deacon grinned an' showed his teeth, an' broke a twig an' bit it;" Said, "Pat, I guess if we don't start you jest about have hit it." He stood up, slowly, whistled, old " Yankee Doodle" tunin', An' shouted, " Boys, come, let's set in ; come, come, can't have much noonin'! " Of all men in our neighborhood who found that farmin' paid, — The driver of all drivers, — was Deacon Luther Slade. Pat an' Zenas they went polin', I raked ahead the deacon. "Take a wider rakin', youngster! " an' that was all the speakin'. 25 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. I put right in an' worked an' worked with all mj might an' mind ; Rake teeth striking two bare heels said the deacon was behind. An' although we worked like tigers, still the sun was workin' faster, Till at last it left the pine trees with the shadows growin' vaster. "Hurry! hurry!" cried the deacon; "there's a whole half acre jet." I took a spurt an' shot ahead, an' had my little fret. An' if I thought about our land that warnt half plowed last spring. It warnt to think the old skinflint would now get pay in sting. As I passed the grass a stannin' I careful laid the hay On that settled nest o' yaller wasps asleep at close o' day; A-sleepin' an' a-waitin' for that shinin' light o' men, The deacon of the Second Church, approachin' judg- ment then. 26 FRESH HA YIN, For the wrong he'd done our greensoard, an' that bill that was too high ; For trjin' to stretch daylight out till stars come in the sky; For our corn that then was pinlin, its roots not goin' down Where corn roots should in August go, to hold up Autumn's crown ; For the meanness of his bein' an' his greed, that all day long Would work a boy, an' Sunday pray fer them was doin' wrong, — Don't you think he ought to catch it, makin' two dews meet the day. With scythe, an' fork, an' coldest word, an' rake that slammed the hay? A-thrashin' right into it; the winrow closin' in ; Heart an' soul, if he'd um, reachin' in a sort o' frozen grin ! Crush-ush-ush, z-zm zum-m-m-m ! 'Twas the rudest song o' natur, but it made the how- lin' come. 27 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. "Ow! ow! ow ! " cried the deacon, shriekin*. I looked behind to see A rake upraised, a singin' cloud, an' man that dashed at me. ** Put the horse into the wagon ! " he shouted, while he shook His hat agin the varmints, as he run an' jumped the brook. 'Twas jest two minutes later, with the deacon drivin' blind, I shrinkin' up beside him, Pat and Zenas high behind. In that leather-springed old wagon I heard Pat to Zenas say, " If it wasn't for the yellj wasps, we'd had a longer day." 28 THANKSGIVING DAY AT AUNT SALLY'S. Cf?anf$gtmng Day ai Ctunt Sally's. ■\X7E started at the break of daj, To cross the hills and valleys ; And well we knew the country way, From Langley's Mills to Melvin Bay, While driving, on Thanksgiving Day, To dinner at Aunt Sally's ! We left three church spires on the right, Old Tandem Bridge passed over; To trot a mile with Deacon White, We left the turnpike for a "kite," And for a mile we held him tight. From Henly Plain to Dover. At Orrin's Mills we passed a troop Of gypsies round a wagon ; Their horses loosed, the motley group 29 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Were roasting eggs upon a scoop, And drinking something — maybe soup — From out a pewter flagon. At White Oak Swamp a hound bajed deep ; We knew a hare was started : Then nearer swept the chase — a leap, A gun's report, and there a heap Of something on the road ! Life's cheap, And huntsmen are hard-hearted. Now to Aunt Sally's drawing near, Come voices. Jack's discerning I stand right up, hat off, to cheer; Abe pulls me down, and says, " Look here, You little harebrain ! Don't you fear The wheels, when they're a-turnin'.?" Sol swung the great gate open wide And cleared the way before us : Then, with my father at my side. Braced on the reins, we rode in pride Right to the front door, open wide, Hallooing in a chorus. 30 THANKSGIVING DAY AT AUNT SALLY'S. Aunt, sleeves rolled up and apron new, Came out from all her cooking, And said, " Melinda, how de do? Theophilus — and Abel, tew? And Benny," — she kissed me, — " you grew! Well, well, you're all well lookin' ! " And now behold us, one and all, Seated at dear aunt's table ; Father and mother. Uncle Paul, The hired man, Orlando Hall, My cousin Jack, and Nell, and Sol, And my big brother, Abel. The blessing said, we all " sot to," Knives, forks, and plates a-clatter! The turkey's rich aroma spread ; The cranberries were ripe and red ; And when Sol sighed and shook his head^ Quite empty was the platter ! Tipped upside down, the pudding pot On a deep dish had waited. Aunt raised it; — steaming, juicy, hot, 31 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. The pudding lay ! All else forgot, Each by his plums esteemed his lot — How rich his plate came freighted! And now the boys have nuts to crack, So rich and firm in kernel ! Jack shows us next year's almanac, And Nell, Sol's whittled bric-a-brac, Bound picture papers, two years back, And leaves pressed in the "Journal." Father and uncle talk of crops — What fields are best for sowing Potatoes, onions, corn, and hops; The value of French turnip-tops For late milch cows, when pasture stops; What grass pays best for mowing. At last the sun below the oaks In crimson fire is sinking; *• Good-bye ! " we cry to all the folks, And, wrapped in buffaloes and cloaks, Spin down the road with whirring spokes. Just as the stars are blinking. 32 THANKSGIVING DAY AT AUNT SALLY'S. Now Melvin Baj is far away, The late moon lights the valleys : But when, that night, we knelt to pray, It was that next Thanksgiving Day, With all the love that hearts can say, We'd spend at dear Aunt Sally's. 33 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. my VOmovo VOlfxstU. I CALL to mind the many things my boyhood gave to me — But best the willow whistle, with its sweet and rural key. It came with Moon of June-time, when the birds were in the trees, And the scent of grass and clover made fragrant all the breeze. Down where the cattle broke their way to brook with hummocked edge. And trout looked up and shot behind the further shade of sedge ; And the small, black turtle, shining, on his rock beside the brink, Looked down to greet in gleaming wave the frog that rose to blink. 34 MY WILLOW WHISTLE. Nature's mantle all effulgent, woven in June's loom of gold, Buttercups and daisies glowing, reached to wood- land far and old ; And the great, mild-ejed, horned creatures, looked lovingly to see A barefoot boj beside the brook prepare for melody. I cut it and I notched it, that sapling willow green, Slipped bark, and deftly shaped inside space for my breath between ; Then to my lips I lifted that rude whistle that I made, And piped a note that clear and long met all the up- land glade. I blew a blast I'll not forget to winds that stopped to heed The music of my soul upon that make-shift willow reed. While my heart rang in that whistle, made by un- tutored hand. Singing Bob and Major Redwing golden linked with me the land. 35 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Found they strange new music added to their olden golden note; Swallows wheeling struck the brooklet, then away 'neath skies to float ; All the low mead in contentment while the white cloud never stirred In the brink of blue beside me, just below the sing- ing bird. So I whistled that June morning in the sunlit long ago, With my soul of souls unfettered and a heart un- trained to woe ; All that wisdom for the scholar ever left in page of book, Left behind or passed unheeded when a boy I held the brook. 36 A FOGGY MORNING. Ct ^oggy ZtTorning. 'T'HE mist hung heavy on the barn, it looked a-kinder lowrin', An' the fish above the ridgepole said the day would sure be show^'rin'. We'd hay down in the upper field, corn needed second hoein', An' the new ground in potaters into weeds an' grass was growin'. Uncle on the doorstone raised his hand up silent, thinkin', Fog, fuzzy on his coat sleeve, as it darkened, heart a-sinkin'. "Wind's to the east'ard, Jake," he said to our man, Jacob Gough. Jake he turned an' twisted ; said he thought it might burn off. 37 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. But uncle he thought different, still he didn't feel quite sartin', He said, about that auction grass he'd bought of Ezra Martin. Barefooted, twelve years old, a boy, I earnestly was prayin' A day had come, a day to rest two tired legs in hayin'. I listened to them talkin', all the time in silence wishin', An' at last I just suggested that 'twould be good day for fishin'. Two eyes above the doorstone, an' two above the path, Looked down on me in scorn, to see the subject of their wrath. "Fishin'!" snarled out uncle, shakin' raindrops from his collar, " If ye live to he's old 's Methuselah ye'U not be wuth a dollar ! Work all behind, an' fishin' ! Don't ye know there's hay a-spilin', An' that ye got to work, an' work, to keep the pot a-bilin'! " # A FOGGY MORNING. He turned from me to Jacob ; as he did there came a sprinkle. It pattered on my old straw hat an' gave my eyes a twinkle ; But they lost some of their brightness when uncle now said, " Well, If 'taint a day for hayin', I suppose there's corn to shell." 39 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Brother ^onatljan Cectures ^is Ctbopteb, \ X/ITH his plaid-patched curderi breeches, an' his red an' jailer coat, He has jest come up and registered, and casted his fust vote; Talkin', tellin'beout the Bible, an' our institooshuns grand. An' that the stars an' stripes must float from each schoolhouse in the land ! Tearin' up an' deown on platforms, lettin' steam off agin' priests, An' bishops, popes an' cardinals — that eat heretics at feasts. Sajin' neow's the time or never to defend the flag we've saved ! — Our homes, our wives an' children, er by Rome we'll be enslaved ! 40 BROTHER JONATHAN LECTURES HIS ADOPTED. Wall, I stood it an' I listened till he got his rantin' through, An' last night I stood in meetin' an' I sez, " Why, who be yeou? Never heard on ye till yesterday ! — since that time I riz the axe On my ole man at Concord an' ye run to Halifax ! "Ye were mighty still when Sumter's guns went shakin' up the land, An' I had my Irish rigiments march in an' take a hand ! Great strappin' fellers, shot right deown ; with a shamrock on their breasts, The Stars an' Stripes above um, an' a cross inside their vests ! " The last guard o' McClellan an' Burnside's furthest dead ! — No, I guess not, stranger — jest yit, I ain't goin' to lose my head ! Like 'nufF, in goin' to heaven, our roads may be apart, But in pintin' to the gineral end we're all the same at heart. SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. '* Some my folks were Catholics fur back's 76! An' thirty-six years later helped me out ev a nasty fix! An' as fer Irish — in Mexico — of all Zach's bloodiest fields, He found at Paler Alter his biggest boss was Shields! " But the way you've been talkin', St. Peter raves and swears When comes along an Irishman that kneels an' says his prayers. But now I come to think on't, an' look ye in the face, I'll be hanged if you ain't Irish — no credit to the race! " But if you come to the United States to jest kick up a stew, 'Tween Abner Jones an' his man Mike, an' neighbor Donahue, 'Tell ye here, right square an' now, ye'd better shack fer home ! I don't want imported patriots to help me keep out Rome ! " 42 WHEN WE TOOK THE PAPERS. XDE^en Xt)e Coof tl^e papers. /^F all things in a country store to make its trade ^^^ succeed, You must have the daily papers for the customers to read. And they must mean both parties, these sheets of which I speak, For if they don't, you'll in the end find trade is rather weak. An' that is why we each subscribed, an' paid for year by year. Each his opposin' paper, the firm of Way & Speare. Joseph was Republican, but never come out flat, An' as for me, Suranus Speare, I was a Democrat; 43 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. But you'd a never known it, exceptin' for that paper, The Jeffersonian Democrat^ a stern, strong, nation shaper. Joseph took the Tribune; come down one day too late, " But never mind for that," they said, "Pa Greeley he can wait." Sometimes when I'd be busy, weighin' cheese, an' pork, an' tea, An' Tom Earl from his talkin' would reach an' look at me; I'd tie the knot, an' look around, an' 'fore I'd snap the string, I'd quote to Tom the Democrat, when whang ! the counter 'd ring. Joseph across, his paper down, lifting his gold- bowed glasses, Would say, "Sam, charge Zeke Shaw two quarts o' best molasses." All busy, lamps a-lighted, a-puttin' up an' chargin', I jumpin' here, an' Samuel there, each step the firm enlargin'. 44 WHEN WE TOOK THE PAPERS. There's a good deal got by talkin', but as much in keepin' still, An' havin' tongues a-waggin', cheer the team that climbs the hill. An' the smoothest, slickest double that ever run in gear, An' put up smiles in packages, was the firm of Way & Speare. You see we done no talkin' ; our business was to cater ; An' that is why we served three years each in the JLegislatur, An' alius thought it prudent to have them papers seen. Though of course there was exceptions, as when Cap'n Bial Green Would go off yellin', talkin' to old deaf Hiram War- ner, Their sleighs below a-stoppin' to argue at the corner ; In this way takin' from us trade that went to Eugene Crockett,— Why, in such a case as that, of course, the papers sunk the pocket. 45 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. But on the whole the papers paid ! The nights we'd in that store ! Mark Edmunds he a-bilin' out with Democratic lore ; An' Jim Sharpe, tall, Republican, a-readin' an' a- tellin' In war times 'bout the treachery o' General George McClellan ; When " Hup ! " would come up on a keg Mike Hines, an' all was still. His empty sleeve to give respect, he'd tell of Mal- vern Hill, Then bout the folks that stayed at home, an' when the draft come lied ; Why, if I'd been Jim Sharpe them times, I'd curled right up an' died. If you want earth's democracy, the equality of head, You must find your cracker barrel where the daily paper's read. There, with the soil right on the boot, an' face an' hands well tanned. You'll find great Nature's orator a-servin' all the land. 46 WHEN WE TOOK THE PAPERS. So 'twas with us, the years went 'long, the states- men sittin' high On barrels an' on boxes, givin' each the "'tis "an' " why"; Old faces growin' fewer, men had traveled down the nation, Inside of them two papers, that had been their ed- ucation. Trade gettin' dull an' duller, till at last we sold out- right ; (Keepin' each, of course, his paper) to young Fred Parmenus White. Only once I went to see him, the young, bright, smart storekeeper. Ha! cold! trade light! but, compared to us, he was sellin' cheaper. Last week it was we buried my old partner, Joseph Way; An' goin' by the sold-out store, silent this many a day, I thought of times when we'd our swing, an' brightly burned Life's taper, In that old store, where "we held trade," an' each one took his paper. 47 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Song of tlfz Wiay. A N opening song upon the glade That can no more delay; A blossomed tree by breezes swayed, And this, this is the May. The heavens now pale their stars of light To morns of fairer brow ; While wayward winds o'er waters bright Quicken each blade and bough. Tangled at times, but reaching through To bluest arching skies. The brook, at last, in clearer view, Bends where the green branch sighs. O May ! fair May ! of months the queen ! Responsive to the soul Is now the far melodious green, Where Fancy sees her goal. 48 MARIOM HARBOR. 2Ttarton ^arbor, "CAR up from the shores of the gull and | The sun's best charms beguiling, With its forest deep and its pleasure sail, Lies Marion Harbor smiling. It is circled round in as jojous bound As ever made steel-blue crescent; In the glow of the morning golden crowned It hails the Omnipresent. Here Summer clasps her fair white hands, And lifts her eyes all glowing, Beside those sunny, golden sands Her tresses gently blowing. From its cedared isle to its farthest reach, Where seaward view discloses Lighthouse and headland, sanded beach — Here calm content reposes. 49 J SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. With its ancient town and its regal crest, And its woodland slope far-reaching, This earlier wave of the Pilgrim's West All Nature's love is teaching. Green are its shores and blue its skies, And far its forests resting, That fain would shield their ocean prize From every storm's contesting. Seek not for the gems of an Afric sea When all this wave lies gleaming, And Morning in her majesty, With banners proudly streaming, Rides all this tide ! Her golden car May pass to pomp unending; But never paled her forehead star Before such glory blending. 50 II. IRELAND AND HER PEOPLE. Vily Hoab at Cang. T SAW not where it went to, and less I cared, I know, The roadway of my childhood, in the sunlit long ago, But that it passed our doorway, when birds in sum- mer sang, And went straight on to heaven, was enough, my road at Tang ! Was enough when life was early, and the heavens' glory showed, To be born and live six summers by Tang's long, winding road. It was so wide and even, and it went so far away, Up the farthest, highest, longest hill, right into Ireland's day, That I knew all heaven's sunlight on its glad way was impearled ! And that there was no other roadway but Tang's in all the world ! 53 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. With its ash tree, and its hawthorn, and its lark that heavenly sang, Sure no roadway went to heaven but my Irish one at Tang! That it passed all round old Ireland on its way to heaven, I knew, By the people back and forward who came within my view ! By the strange, good, friendly people, in their carts, who passed our door! Their faces filled with innocence that I shall see no more. There was not a cloud above it where Pain her glass might hang! It was always open sunshine before our door at Tang ! Whitewashed, straw-thatched, floor earthen, un- conscious of all pride Was our fagot-raftered cot that stood beside the roadway wide ; That oped where great boys lingered, — how could they be so tall ? And yet so kind as notice me, the smallest boy of all! MY ROAD AT TANG. Across the road the greenest field, church, yard, and bird that sang Music for my early footsteps down the country road at Tang. Holy Wells they said had Ireland, and battlement of Dane; The Inny and the Shannon that flowed half way to Spain ! Ruined ancient castles olden built by giants in far times, They who built and left a causeway where the ivy ever climbs ! And who sailed all round old Ireland in great flagged, enchanted ships. The morning on their canvas when the sun from ocean drips ! Ireland's great round sun ! that never left her son's impassioned lips ! They were giants, men enchanted, who held Ireland in those days. Tossing mountains while they walked the shore, their great feet making bays ! 55 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Sure all these were not mere fancies, or loud bells that harshly clang! But the music of an earlj heart, whose first beat was in Tang. With deep imagined fairy lore, tales that with life shall stay, Was the sunlight of life's morning then along my road's bright way. Passing up, the stately hedgerows, golden-blos- somed, furze on green. After that the little wicket, there, the hedge-side school was seen ; That one schoolhouse ! my one shadow! for at times the ruler rang, Very near me, on some urchin who went to school at Tang! And although it always spared me. Education gave its scowl ! Which was enough ! and Wisdom flew, — the little fledgling owl ! Thus it was a shade was harbored beneath that rough stone-bound, To vanish with the rowan tree, and green, wide playing-ground. 56 MY ROAD AT TANG. Still I think 'twould have been better, with its beat- ings and harangue, If that little hedge-side schoolhouse had been farther off from Tang. Not that I disliked my letters less than birds that o'er me trolled, For the youngest eye is farthest in its reach for let- tered gold ! And e'en now, I well remember, headed by its Roman A, The marching host to Z go down my primer's page that day ; And the plain, dear sign gold-lettered that I read, — ah ! does it hang As of old above our doorway, our cottage door at Tang ? Does the tinker in red waistcoat, the corduroyed beggar dumb, And the woman with her child at back, from Bally- mahon come? Are they still at work within the bogs.? I just remember where. Men and girls and boys, bare-ankled, with cherry cheeks so rare. 57 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Is the man of baize, the fiddler, who cheerily danced and sang Before our cottage doorway, — are they all still in old Tang? Ah ! I see the soldiers marching, passing onward to Athlone ! A shining line of scarlet timed to some poor soul's "ochone; Ochone ! Machree, ah me, ah me! these lines, when will they pass ? — These marching lines of England's red with buckled helm and brass." So wailed that day a stricken soul, until the black- bird sang, Its heart to cheer all other hearts, when marched those lines from Tang. Down the hill one day, slow, winding, came a train with wailing sound. And although it hurt the sunlight, still the good skies never frowned. Only wept, a sunlit raindrop falling gently to the ground. That was all ! the slow procession coming told my heart the rest ! 58 MY ROAD AT TANG. Told me of some great heart-sorrow, common to the human breast! All the people caoining, moaning, with a slow and solemn tread. Manly shoulders, highly bearing one of Ireland's sainted dead ! As they passed before our cottage, bowed we, with uncovered head. They were going two miles farther, so my father softly said. They were going on to Nohill, down the hill and far away, With a sorrow that passed with them, upon that far-off day ! Yes, going on to Nohill! passing church where no bell rang ! Only bright rain on the furze-bloom, and a linnet far that sang Hope and joy to glorious heaven, stooping with its skies so low, Saying, Faith to ancient Ireland sufficed for all its woe ! That beyond its centuried shadow, its bitterest, bit- ing pang, A grave was good in Ireland ! and skies were blue o'er Tang. 59 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. CJ?e ^ouse Beyant l^e ^tlL "\ X /UD its shmoke agin the sunlight, And its unlatched open dure, Patsj, John, an' Francis Michael, Shpinnin' tops upon the flure, Not a shingle an it painted, Shtrame an' orchard an' ould mill ! — Shure no place in this new counthry Like the house bevant the hill ! Days were long upon the railroad, Slingin' sledge an' shtrikin' bar, Fitz, meself, an' John McCarthy Havin' rails from car to car! But atwixt the blows an' sweatdhrops Aft me sowl, widout me will, Wud go up the path and footbridge To the house beyant the hill! 60 THE HOUSE BEYANT THE HILL. Dinner over, Tommy Martin, Tellin' lies to Christy Kane ; All the min in roars o' laffin' At the greenhorn out from Slane. Tin pails empty, pipes a-fillin'. An' the boss sayin', " Come an. Bill,' Shure I'd hear the wathers runnin' Past the house beyant the hill. Shteppin' heavy night an' mornin'. Back an' forth me reglar way, Spring an' summer, fall an' winther, Six to six a workin' day ; Shure I never felt it, — never, — Pain or ache, or cowld, or chill, So me Bridget an' the childher Had a house beyant the hill. " Ireland's far, but this land's nixt it," Said I to meself them days ; Walkin' twenty miles on Sunday, Hearin' Mass wud long John Hayes. On the way home, at Phil Haley's, Shtoppin' if the day was chill ! — Ah, there's no time like the ould time, Wud its house beyant the hill ! 6i SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. All the neighbors now are scattered ! Buried, most them, many a day! An' I know be Patsy's childher I'm an ould chap in the way ! Only me an' poor John Daly! Last week, Thursday, buried Phil ! At the wake we two were talkin' Av ould times beyant the hill ! Yestherday, wud Francis Michael, I went down to see his shtore, An' me heart bruk when I seen it — Where the ould house was before! An' I turned me eyes to Heaven, Reconciled to all His will; That had left me, altho' lonely, Shtandin' cowld beyant the hill. 62 CON GRADY. Con ^raby. I'D like to see, in these late days, the best man climbin' high, As when Con Grady on the stage sat up agin the sky ; His calf boots blacked, his whiskers thrimmed, be- side the swingin' sign, Reins in one hand, his horn upraised, the town clock shtrikin' nine — Toot-toot, toot-toot, ho-ho ! ho-ho I the horses shtampin' hard. There's not to-day a Grady left, an' not a hotel yard. No waitin' long wud Grady, wud his shtrong hands at the reins, For he must meet the Rowley mail, the crossroad stage at Haynes. 63 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Judge Dunstin, comin' down the shtreet, to go to county coort, Must wave his shtick, an' shout, an' run, jist like the common soort. But no one said of Gradj that he didn't dhrive wud care, Was impolite to ladies, or dishonest in his fare. An' 'twas no fault of Grady's, an' of that I will engage, When ould Miss Greene fell from the shteps, an sued the county shtage. Con's little uncle, ould Mike Day, acrost, the pipe in hand, Wud smile, an' think of Bridget's son, the highest in the land. That no one ever lifted Con Grady to his place. Was credit to the county shtage, an' credit to Con's race. Toot-toot, toot-toot, aboord ! aboord ! Gelang ! Away ! Ah my ! Thim was the days that had their heart, the sun up in the sky ! 64 CON GRADY. When wheelin' out into the road, an' turnin' to the right, Shtorekeepers shtandin' in their dures, an' custom- ers in sight, — The whole round worrld its ejes to see, then back to this or that, Contented, it had seen pass by the best man un- dher hat. 'Twas seven miles to Baylies town, an' sixteen more to Way, The sunshine av the distance in Grady's eyes that day. Dust flyin' in the summer sun, an' talk goin' an in- side. The horses slow up Bartly hill, an' on the top, the wide Far-reachin' counthry in the sun, its houses, fields, an' town, An' over all. Con Grady on the wide worrld lookin' down. I do not know where Grady is ; one day in '6i He dhruv his last up Bartly hill, an' to the war was gone. 65 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. It may be that he's shlapin' wud the South winds soft an' low, Above the grave, that houlds widin, him that I used to know. But whether there or livin', well I know his sperit sees The swingin' tavern sign forninst the spreadin' chestnut trees. The stage itself has done its part, the horses an' the sign; But sometimes I hear in me heart the town clock shtrikin' nine — Toot-toot, toot-toot, ho-ho ! ho-ho ! I'm in the hotel jard, An' Grady's once more on his sate, the horses shtampin' hard. 66 MORNING AT KILLARNEY. tTTorning at KtllarncY* 'T'HE clouds from distant peaks unfold, The morning breaks in glory — And crag, and keep, and abbey old, Rich in their glowing story, Look up to greet the glories rolled On crumbling ruins hoary. From Dunloe Gap, where Echo wakes And calls the elves to rally. To Dinish Isle, along the lakes There's peace on hill and valley, And only rippling water breaks To show where light winds dally. Beneath his rock, with brow aglow, Blind John the hour is winging, 67 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. As swells his soul, while twangs the bow, Till all the Gap is ringing; — The hanging cliffs of old Dunloe, That listen to his singing. The boatman to the eagle calls Where waters bright are meeting. Far o'er Ross Castle's broken walls, Above the white clouds fleeting, The lark pours music that enthralls In wild and waj'ward greeting. At Brickeen Bridge the shadows stay To watch the waters flowing; Round Innisfallen's ruins gray The ivy old is growing, And guards where holy men did pray, And gleams while winds are blowing. Old Muckross, with each storied grave, — Great chieftains in its keeping, — With cloisters dim, and mould'i'ing nave, And centuried yew-tree weeping, — Rests calmly by the gleaming wave, And wakes not from its sleeping. 68 MORNING AT KILLARNEY. In far green fields the lonely fane Of Aghadoe is dreaming; But rising o'er the verdant plain, Its cross no more is gleaming, — Where sang of old the surpliced train, Only the sun is streaming. 69 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. HTy Sl^annon Hxper. UACES and places are soon forgot In the pride of life's endeavor, But the home of the child, be it palace or cot, Lives on in the mind forever. This is why to me in the broad, far West I have seen the bright streams quiver. To see in dreams a stream more blest, — My broad, blue Shannon River. As a boy on its banks I laughed and strayed, Till sorrow dared deliver My heart from the hearts of the friends I made On the banks of the Shannon River. Ah ! the winds blew west, — long, long ago ! Caused a white-winged bark to shiver With the woe of hearts its deck below, Far, far from Shannon River. 70 MY SHANiSiON RIVER. To-day I stand in a foreign land, — See not those waves that quiver, As when I grasped the friendly hand That was mine by the Shannon River. When the sun first rose o'er earth's living green, And the bounteous, great All Giver Throned Ireland earth's queenliest queen, On her breast gleamed the Shannon River. 71 SO^STGS OF TWO PEOPLES. CI?e Crapeler in l^c Sun, LJE came that day from far awaj, And at our cottage door Unfolded, as we bade him stay, From out his golden store, Tales of the world's great winding way We had not heard before. It was so good for him to come So far to tell us three, — My father, mother, sitting dumb, I, on my mother's knee, — All that a traveler's words could sum. We listening eagerly. The dust of roads was on his feet, And on his suit of brown : A stick to walk, and make complete The road from Dublin town ; And with it all a green bag, neat, And beard that hid no frown. 72 THE TRAVELER IN THE SUN. Our hearts were won when he had done With London's famous towers ; Its spires that rose to break the sun From cottage such as ours ; That rose to break, but could not take, The sun from Ireland's flowers. He held us where the sunlight spanned Beyond the hill's blue line; And as he talked of each far land I saw bright waters shine, — Rivers that crooned on ev'ry hand, Past fields more green than mine. Round the great world I went that day Far, far as waters run ; Past hills on hills, away, away, Down Dreamland's way unwon ! A bright, unending road that lay For traveler in the sun. The stones along the road so bright, As white as my soul then, I saw on roadway streaming light As rest for trav'ling men; And on beyond, a town, so white, It held enthralled my ken. 73 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. I wonder if he still walks down That road mj fancy knew, — Mj man of men, in suit of brown, His stout stick swinging true; If so, I'll make for him a crown With Fame's eljsian few. The sun had sunk down in the west; Its light had left our door! But as it did, our traveler, blest, Had gone with all his store Of memories to final rest — In my dreams evermore. Which way he went I never knew, — That man without a name. Who came when all the skies were blue, Unchilled bj passing fame ! But ah, that I could tell to you Which road it was he came ! 74 ERIN AWAKENED. (grin Ctu>a^eneb. r^ INNISFAIL ! thy sorrowing wail Comes sounding up the years; But thou art brave, beside thy wave, Though bathed in bitter tears. Red England's rose in noontide blows, The thistle has its song; But far and wide as keel may ride The shamrock knows but wrong. Sahara's waste has winds that haste To linger at Ceylon ; And dark the hour that opes no flower To bid the heart hope on. On car of gold thy sister rolled On to her goal of fame ; But gave to thee a sobbing sea, And centuries of shame. 75 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Ill-omened hour, when darkened power Smeared blood upon thj grass ! And evermore, on hill and shore, A ghost is seen to pass. The night was long, the winds were strong, And wild the rifted moon Threw down her light, where, cold and white, The Fates watched o'er thy swoon. ' She is not dead," the weird ones said, "Who gave the lands their glow." Oh, woe to thee, beside thy sea. To wake in rain and snow ! To wake at night, the moon's broad light On England's channel strand ; Thou on thy heath, the sea beneath. With chafed and gyy^d hand. Stricken and sore, all round thy shore Guns, hating, turned on thee; Law reared to wrong the helpless throng, And perjure thine and thee. 76 ERIN AWAKENED. Weep, weep ! but keep what in thy sleep Thou heldest to thy heart, — The book of gold! that, lettered, told Thine ancient, higher part ! Lands that have light caused by the might Of thy strong right arm brave, Touched by thy tears, give word that cheers, To Erin of the wave! The sea-gull sweeps, his vigil keeps; The wave breaks on the reef; But far as sky the clouds that fly Tell to all lands thy grief. A sorrowing wail upon the gale. The burden of past years. Since Innisfail thy voice didst hail The flag thy heart reveres. Though rounded earth has highest worth In thy brain, brawn, and hand, Still dost thou wait beyond the gate Of Freedom's promised land. 77 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. CI?e tDaters of IB^e Cee. /^'ER my soul the mystic dreaming ^^^ Of that day returns to me, And I see the bright sun gleaming In the waters of the Lee. Cross, and spire, and turret glowing, Distant castle, fell, and tree, Idle sails their gleams bestowing In the waters of the Lee. Warm and bright the sun, low setting, Left its good-bye all to me ; Purpling clouds alone regretting In the waters of the Lee. 78 III. MISCELLANEOUS. C{?e HattPtty, "TNAVID'S city, overflowing, now is filled with traffic's din ; Merchants, all their rich goods showing, hold reception at the inn. Not a voice in Bethlehem, calling, answers other word than "trade!" " Profit," God's own self forestalling, holds the idol it has made. Jostling on their way each other, Israel and Egypt one. E'en the Roman is a brother to the Jew he looks upon ! Caesar stamped on paltry metal this night is the god of all The vast motley throngs that settle every thought on Mammon's thrall! 8i SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. What to sheik, or Roman soldier, Syrian trader Camel-borne, Is, mayhap, some strange beholder, meekly walking since the morn ! Tell not him the world's grown colder, by the rich stuifs it has worn ; Or that Life means more than getting that which death's cold hand shall scorn. Bethlehem keeps wide-open hostel, and when that is full, what more For the late one, than to wander homeless past its crowded door.? Living into Self and Present, Judah sees not past its night! Thinks not, in its passing moment, of the writ of Israelite — Which has said, in Jacob's city, ancient called "The House of Bread," Shall be born, without its pity, Mary's child in lowly bed ! Far away, Augustus ruling, calls the world to be enrolled, So the future Virgin Mother comes as Holy Writ foretold ; 82 THE NATIVITY. Comes with Joseph to his own town ; on this night he seeks his own. Over wintry mountains dreary she and Joseph come alone ! They, two travelers, worn and weary, slowly make the great inn's gate. See within the firelight cheery, as they at the postern wait. Flicker in the night the torches, conquering and conquered there ; Narrow street and crowded porches, life exultant everywhere. Every house has its own treasure, every heart its golden vane, Farthest line of Bethlehem's measure, sunlight on to-morrow's plain. This while sorrow of all sorrows holds the wander- ers that now wait : They who see no glad to-morrows, waiting at the outer gate ; Waiting there for guard returning, Judah's skies are very low, And the farthest star is burning-light, for Mary's brow aglow. 83 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Now the answer — it is spoken ! and they turn them, needless wait ! Pity's heart is not awakened; Mary hears it, "You are late ! " Aye, are late ! though clouds are flying low along the winter's sky, And o'er Gibeon's mount far-lying, angels weep, the Presence nigh, — Weep for mankind, troubled only with the wind that passeth by. Shepherds far their night-watch holding over sleep- ing sheep and kine. Now behold, afar unfolding, light on plains of Palestine ! Tabor's mountain, Shiloh's water, Holy Gate and Rachel's Tomb, Hillside far as Mount of Olives, transient lift them from the gloom. "Israel is no more benighted !" calls a voice, and, robed in grace. All the glorious heavens parting, giving glory to his face. Stands an angel, high above them, star on forehead and he cries, "Ring the words on earth forever! Christ for man is born ! Arise ! " 84 THE NATIVITY. Farther parted all the heavens, and the angel host praised then, *' Glory unto God the highest! " and all closed from human ken. But the star was left to guide them, and thej took their mountain way. Wise Men of the East beside them, at that natal couch to pray. Star of Bethlehem still is shining, and afar the angel cries. Calling unto all low weeping, as of old, "Arise! arise ! Arise ! " the words are thundered earthward ! "Worship now the Living God! Follow where His footsteps wandered, and of old His prophets trod ! " SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. 1492. TVIIGHT broods on the unfathomed deep, And knows no moon, nor star! And all her legioned armies sweep With pennons streaming far. Only a waste of waters green, That since creation's day No human eye has ever seen — Old Ocean holds its sway. The world that erst began to dream On Asia's morning land, Holds still the summit of its theme On that far eastern strand. And men go down their little way, Weighted with passing care! And if a monk and sailor pray, God only hears their prayer. 86 PALOS — H ISPANIOL A. A regal, changing East is all The centuries can show, With Britain at the outer wall The limit of its glow. Rome moves along her warring west With crozier, staff, and brand, And ocean with its stormy crest Awaits the Risen Hand. The sword that closed on Paynim steep With Moslem scimitar, Now over the mysterious deep Points to a world afar. To beat her drums on India's strand, And hold the hills of gold. And plant the cross with rev'renthand, As was by Him foretold, Spain sails, with all the future fraught, Upon the crested wave; Nor peril recks when what is sought Is empire or a grave. 87 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Now tighten all your rudder bands, And let jour pennants fly ! Before your prows are unknown lands, Behind is common sky. Sail on, sail on, ye gallant crafts, Though clouds break on your lee; It is a fairer wind that wafts Your keels across the sea. The startled sea bird hears and cleaves The sunset in his track. But brighter than the wave he leaves The hope that fears no wrack. The night hangs low, the storm is on, Wild flaps the tattered sail. The plunging ship drives madly on Before the rising gale. And stern-browed men their chief around On the Maria's deck Hoarse shout, "Turn back, turn back! the bound Of hope may save from wreck." 88 PALOS — HISPANIOLA. But even as they speak, and waves Go thundering alee, Rings, "Onward! onward! him who braves Life for futurity?" The rifted clouds are breaking fast, And heaven hangs her star Over each bared and straining mast, While rolls the thunder far. Faith writes along the brow of night, While stars their music ring. * O sail," she saj^s; " the morning light The promised land will bring. * O sail on wave all undefined That would your course delay, Until upon the sea the wind Brings fair isles of Cathay ! " SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. CE?c Ceacl^ers. /^ OD made the hills for thought sublime, ^^ The vales for love and laughter ; Twin teachers they, of flowing rhyme, To man for ever after. And though one leads where glories ring. And one be love's defender, It is to teach the eagle's wing Is near to longings tender. Divinely linking dreams of soul. They act on man's endeavor; Inspiring answering songs that roll For ever and for ever ! As far as sunshine of the heart. In language deep, all glowing, They teach the old and higher part- Perspective's dream bestowing. 90 THE TEACHERS. They lead to Genius' silent sway, That artist soul may capture The golden measure of the day, For unborn age's rapture. Inspiring nations to be brave, They uphold all flags flying ; And strike the shackles from the slave In w^ords that are undying. The highest goal is for the soul Of him who scales the mountains; Who follows down the streams that roll From far perennial fountains. All Beauty's dream is but a gleam Of hills and valleys drinking The sunlight of each wayward stream That wells from fonts unthinking. He drinks Life's waters and is cheered Who knows the vales will bless him ; The rime of time upon his beard. Suns linger to caress him. 91 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Then hail the Light that lifts the night I The hills and vales adorning; Showing afar the Maker's might, As on that first bright morning. 92 A DREAM OF THE BEAUTIFUL. a Dream of tl^e Beautiful. T DREAMED of all things beautiful, of olden lands and new ; Of spire and mosque and tall kiosk, and wonders of Peru; Of ships that sailed when morning hailed the water's kindling blue. I dreamed of all things beautiful, and kindly were the flowers That oped and bled and perfume shed on rosy-ker- chiefed hours, That heard the old glad songs of gold, while pass- ing Love's fair bowers. I dreamed of all things beautiful ! Day's gates flew open wide. And streaming strands of olden lands, I saw them in their pride ! I marked a caliph in the sun by Cashmere's golden tide, And heard the tinkling of the lutes when day to evening died. 93 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. As far as waters gleam I ran, far down the ancient past! The glittering towers of Ispahan on me no shadow cast; I passed Hope's airiest caravan with music on the blast ! On glowing car, as far as star, or roadway of the sun, I left behind to wave and wind earth's shadows passing dun ; Until at last a glorious, vast perspective height I won ! I dreamed of all things beautiful that live for me and you ! Of tower and mosque and tall kiosk, and temples of Peru ! Of ships that sailed when morning hailed brave flags that glorious flew. 94 THE AMERICAN FLAG. C^e dmertcan ^Iag> 'T'HAT ocean-guarded flag of light, forever may it 1 fly! It flashed o'er Monmouth's bloody fight, and lit McHenry's sky ; It bears upon its folds of flame to earth's remotest wave The names of men whose deeds of fame shall e'er inspire the brave. Timbers have crashed and guns have pealed beneath its radiant glow. But never did that ensign yield its honor to the foe ! Its fame shall march with martial tread down ages yet to be. To guard those stars that never paled in fight on land or sea. Its stripes of red eternal dyed with heart-streams of all lands; Its white, the snow-capped hills that hide in storm their upraised hands ; Its blue, the ocean waves that beat round Freedom's circle shore; Its stars, the print of angels' feet that shine for- evermore ! 95 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. *"T^HESE fields, these hills, these trees are mine, These acres, to the tide; As far as yon tall, yielding pine That tops its own with pride," The rich man said, While round him spread Autumnal glories wide. But, as he spoke, Down bj an oak He saw an artist stride ; One who in colors serves the whole Of all that is, when rounds the soul ; And with his canvas on his back Stood watching where he would unpack. It seemed the very colors all Of nature, with its vine-clad wall. The burning ivy's richest gold, The crimson of the maple's fold, Were in that pack that he set down, — This dreamer from the crowded town. 96 THE THIEF. Two souls that moment, different planned, Looked out upon the glorious land ; With one, it was self's lower span, The other saw all God gave man. One traced the beautiful in gold Of sky and cloud; the other, cold, Shriveled to facts and legal sense. The clutched rood of inheritance. ' Paints ! " said the rich man, " of the trade That joins things of which dreams are made, A dabbler in the light and shade Of seasons ! Let him stay ; He cannot steal my fields away." And so the lord of many acres. Without much love for picture-makers, Allowed the artist by the brook To sketch from Nature's open book. That night the wind blew cold and chill. And morning found a wind-swept hill. Trees rose dismantled o'er the stream That heartless broke in distant gleam ; Cawed on their branch the raven brood, Disturbers of the solitude. Dark Desolation's first cold stride Was printed down the landscape wide. 97 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Watched long the owner of the hall, Disorder's realm in field and wall ; Leaving to him in title deed Onlj a cold and broken mead. 'Life's but a dream," he said, and sighed; •'These upturned trees, late in their pride, Now show on lacerated plain The emptiness of all man's gain." On that same hour the city's heart Woke to a new and better part. A picture had been wrought, the tide Of Autumn flung in all its pride Upon the canvas — Time defied A sovran of Expression's clan Had halted all the liveried van Of Sorrow — far and wide — Plumed for the final ride. And disenthralled, the soul of man Had told Wealth it had lied. THE WATERS OF THE SOUL. ^Ift VOaUvs of tl^e SouL OOUND about ourselves we draw ^ Mantle of the higher law, When at love's behest we pen Lines that live in souls of men ; Lighting up, that all may see Faith, and Hope, and Charity. Memory's haunted halls of youth. Radiant with the living truth, Towers all gleaming in the sun, Glittering there since time begun ; We may make more glorious still If on far Pierian Hill We make men who come and go, See effulgent waters flow. All for them the round of praise In these ultra -common days. All for them we hold the glass Up to nature while they pass. All for them relentless Art Doth demand the bleeding heart, — That the canons of her grace May not change by time or place. 99 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Rapturous dreams of wondrous night Holding heavenly stars of light; Clambering heights to morns unrolled— Sovereigns of the ci'owns of gold — Valleys far as Toil's own girth, Gladdening all the generous earth, — These are ours, to give all men, When His voice directs the pen, When His voice through us shall swell Waters deep that inward dwell ; And melodious, glad streams play Onward down the fields of day! Word and deed and skies all glow When in golden numbers flow Thoughts that living in a dream Are beyond the things that seem, Telling of the world's advance To its own inheritance ! Only that the child may read Lesson deep with noble deed ! Only that our age become Something more than Man-child dumb ! Only that one of the throng Read, to make the rest more strong! Only this, and nothing more, Should keep sail on favored shore! THE WATERS OF THE SOUL. Cares the child when we shall sleep Under grasses broad and deep, Whether we be rich or poor, So the songs we sing endure? So the voices that give cheer Shall live on/from jear to jear! And his schoolboy's satchel hold Deed of hero brave and bold ! Every thumb-marked page with king, Rich in poem born to cling! Cities gleaming in the sun, Showing work by genius done. Better that the lamp we light, Than bewail the shades of night! Better that to earth we leave Changing skies that smile and grieve! Better far the great deep song Down the changing lines of wrong, Giving to all burdened men Widening thought from strengthening pen, Something of ourselves a part ! — Language born of our own heart ! Better delve, and toil, and hold To all heaven the mined gold. Be it but one glittering grain, Than transcendent live in vain ! SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. C^e ^arpest £>ay, QUNLIT and peaceful ; fields all sere ; ^ Fruition's dream most blest! The rapturous harvest day is here, And, tired, the world finds rest. An all-pervading music low Possesses hill and stream; It reaches where the maples glow Upturned in waves that gleam. Bright banners reddened in the fight With Winter's first white train, The wooded hills, that in their light Show victory over pain ; The glories of the firmament, The splendor of the field, The hand of the Omnipotent Before us has revealed. THE HARVEST DAY. A dreamy brilliancy of scene Is all we see below The skies, that, closing, intervene On ripened fields aglow. Calm is the sluggish, shallow stream That bears upon its breast The variegated leaf — the dream Of Summer gone to rest. Fair Promise swung her higher sun Till Junetide's hot noon hour Proclaimed, as far as waters run, That Nature was in flower. Then turning to a lower day. Her circling orb went round, Till mellow Autumn came to say Joy's increase had been found. The rustle of the garnered sheaf Is now Contentment's own Last crowning robe, as she, in brief, Mounts upward to her throne. 103 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Faith planted long with prayer the seed Deep in the upturned sod : And now from storm and shadow freed, The field looks up to God. AN OCTOBER DAY Qn ©ctober £)ay. lyiOW comes a calmness on the fields, A music in the air, And Nature's rich profusion yields Her gladness everywhere. Far on the hills the mellow haze, High up, the vaulted blue; A world enchanted meets our gaze — Old, yet for ever new. The lazy, tumbling bee hath found The thistle's downy breast; Where maples bend, in silver sound The river sings of rest. The wheeling swallows now prepare O'er hills and fells and streams To bid good-bye to scenes as fair As Beauty's golden dreams. loS SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. The summer came and went with song, To bring a brighter day Than ever down its hours long Held triumph over May. The fervid August brought its sheaf, September held its dream, But now has come the crimson leaf To tell October's theme. A calm contentment fills the soul That dreams where brooklets run, That sees the long year silent roll Its glad days into one. The splendor of the summer time, The rosy flush of June, Love's laughter and its sylvan rhyme Comes now in brooks attune. And clouds along the mountain's brow, Bright, pearly isles afar, Show Fancy, with her silver prow, Who leads from star to star. io6 AN OCTOBER DAY. One perfect earth 'neath faultless skies, One brief, bright, glad hour given, October's day, to human eyes, Is but a glimpse of heaven. 107 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. tr^e Broab Ca^es of Brabore.* A TLANTIC roars and thunders its frown on either shore, But inland far, Cape Breton holds the broad lakes of Bradore. Her green arms fond embracing this wave she would defend, Since Morning blotted her first star, no wave knows fairer trend. Here Nature draws her jeweled hilt and wears her regal crown, From headland waters of the North to Old St. Peter's town, The far-off hillside sloping, the fisher on the lee, One round of light, with cottage white, a golden in- land sea. Planned for an island's splendor, for a glory all its own, Here Love and Heaven left to light a day elsewhere unknown. io8 THE BROAD LAKES OF BRADORE. The "Arm of Gold," they called it, those French- men long ago. This grand connected wave of tides that ceaseless ebb and flow. The storj of a Louisburg, its glorj and its shame, Down all these waves to Port Toulouse lives in a line of flame; Down to the fort a Dennys built, Toulouse upon the height ! Where now the isthmus cloven, sea and lake are chained in light. But gladness of the lilies of old France is living still, It speaks where climbs the village of the fisher on the hill; It points unto the Micmac in his light canoe at morn. Who from this glad wave looks to see the cross that gleams to warn. Here too, old Scotia's sons behold a wave as bright as when Their fathers left the Hebrides, brave clans of High- land men. 109 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. O waters of Cape Breton ! land-locked and heaven- spanned ! The majesty of all that is, or seems, in you com- mand ! A thousand feet below your tide, the very sands must know That o'er them shines a brighter sun than gives the Ganges glow. The silence of the heavens and the rapture of the shore, All, all that breathes soul music, claim the broad lakes of Bradore! THE FALLS OF DHOON. Cl?e Jails of £>l}Oon, [The River Dhoon is one of those beautiful little streams upon the Isle of Man which the Manx, for the want of com- parison, call rivers. Passing over the bold headlands, it de- scends 500 feet, in three precipitous leaps, to the sea below. So tangled is its way, that only two of the cascades can be seen at a given point.] CINGING all the livelong day One glad, golden tune, Ever dov^rn the woodland way Leap the Falls of Dhoon. Laughing in their light array To the hills that climb : Breathing music all the day To their olden rhyme. Pausing vvrhere the green arched way Listens to their croon ; There to hide from light of day The secrets of the Dhoon. SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Jewels of the mountain faj, Sapphire, pearl, and gold, All that Nature can display She has here unrolled. Down the deep and shadowed way, Far from highest noon, Lithesome as the sylvan spray, Laughs and leaps the Dhoon. Joyous as a boy at play, Mona's mountain pride Leaps to reach old Neptune's sway Down the green hillside. Leafy-crowned and laughing May, And the minstrel June, Love the skies that long delay O'er the Falls of Dhoon. WELL ENOUGH AND TIDY NEW, XPell (gnougl? awb Ciby Hett), 'yiDY NEW had ejes so blue That all the flowers kissed her, And said, Sit down, dear Tidy New; O come and be our sister. Well Enough was coarse and rough ; She was Tidj's cousin ; But Tidy New of Well Enough Was worth six hundred dozen. Well Enough went down the street On the mud side shady. Across the street her cousin neat Walked a little lady. Not a spot on Tidy's dress, Coat and hat so jaunty, Sunlight on each streaming tress, Going to see aunty. 113 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. All the birds up in the trees Flit three branches nearer Down to Tidj, just to please, Feet now coming nearer. Well Enough and Tidj New In the summer weather Walking, 'neath the skies so blue. To their aunt's together. Both will come back ere the night Along the road all shady. One, I know, a perfect fright. And one a perfect ladj. 114 EYES, TURN FROM WHAT YOU SEE. Cyes, Cum ^rom XDljat IJou See. "CYES, turn from what jou see, The brighter world to scan ; The world that here might be, If man were true to man. Prayers for a brother's wrong ; Tears for a brother's hate ; So shall the weak grow strong, The strong be truly great. Deeds are as stars that glow. Or cinders of the earth, Showing the high and low Degree of human worth. Dark clouds are overhead, They hide the bright sun's crest, But they will change to red Ere low he sinks to rest. "5 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Each has his goal to gain, His living part to do ; False to the trust, the pain Is not for me or you. The wealth or dearth of soul Is not of human will. God sees the rounded whole; He marks the good or ill. Turn, then, from what you see, O ejes that too close scan, And pray the time may be That man be true to man. ii6 MY MOTHER. my motl^er, T STOOD to-daj in the valley of the years that long had fled, Where Memory's golden jewels are linked in a silver thread, And I asked my heart's deep beating if the blight of the Present's wrong Should crush out all the gladness it knew with the years of song; When it followed the winding river that led past the sloping hill. And the sun on the far horizon gave gold to the mountain's rill; When the trees in their bourgeoned beauty to the heavens seemed to pray, And all around the soul of song held sweet, trium- phant sway? 117 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Should the morn it knew be blasted bj the noon- daj's burning rays? By a world that only listens to its own false meed of praise? Then my heart, in its treasured fulness, to my spirit thus did say : "Soul of my soul, thou'st garnered one joy that shall ever stay. " Deep down as the world's foundation, as pure as dream of the blest. Is the love the mother bestows upon the child she holds to her breast. " She, who guided thy feet unsteady, taught thy little hands to pray ; She, who pillowed the long, brown ringlets, at close of the golden day. " And who gave thee thy first sweet blessing to light up this valley of tears ; She, thy mother! who, now in heaven, first guarded thy infant years, ii8 MY IMOTHER. " Her love is as the angel's whose wings are above thee spread, Thy guide and guard eternal, wherever thy feet may tread." 119 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. ^I?e Pebbler from Peru. TJIS pack was wide, his step was slow, His thin locks as the winter's snow; And when he asked for stranger's fare, And at our hearth a place to share, The frugal board was further spread, And answer to the old man said That he was welcome to the few Coarse comforts that our cottage knew. Long sat we at the table when We found our guest knew much of men. For he had been as far as Spain ! And even sailed the Indian main ! Had seen the wondrous Southern Cross, And told us of the albatross. But most of all, the wonder grew, Our friend was born in far Peru I THE PEDDLER FROM PERU. Astonishment sat at the board, Such guest was worthy of a lord ! He told us of its mines of gold, A templed city far and old, Great rivers lost in desert sand, And mountains far o'er table land ! But most of all, could it be true? There was no rainfall in Peru ! Dissent sat at the table's head And to the stranger sternly said, 'No rain, my friend? if that be so, How can their crops be made to grow?' He cut his meat and held his tale, Said, "Of good crops there is no fail; Instead of rain there is much dew. Which does for rainfall in Peru." That night he held us at the hearth, — The rain at times came from the north, — Then, merchant of the random trade. His pack unstrapped and goods displayed, And asked would we an old man's load Ease on to-morrow's weary road. We bought in pity, to find true That honest worth came from Peru ! SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. With trade all done, a kind meant word, Asked for his home — his being stirred ! And slowly down his aged cheek A tear, said what words could not speak. The firelight's blaze grew passing dim ; A look went up, all meek, to Him ! The tear he brushed. 'Twas then we knew There was the heart rain in Peru ! The morning broke all bright and clear; He packed his pack and blessed our cheer; And down the road with limp and cough Was lost beyond the hill far oif. So went our guest, who last night told Of foreign lands, and men, and gold; But most of all, that skies were blue, And no rain fell in all Peru. THE RIVER. A WAY from the wasted places, Where love can never grow, — From the town, with its careworn faces, Where only bleak winds blow, — I sit by the river, winding Past fields I used to know. I see the horizon bounding The heavens that are near; And with birds in the treetops sounding Their music sweet and clear, Comes the song of the river winding Upon my listening ear. I dream ! and mj dreams are blended With a murmur low and sweet, The brook, with its journey ended. And the river incomplete — Each with its wayward winding To tempt impatient feet. 123 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. Far o'er me skies are gleaming, And stately bends each tree, And I, through the long day dreaming Of days that yet shall be, See the river onward winding With its music all for me. From the ideal in its fervor Reflected in the blue Bright waters that flowed near me On that distant day so true, I have passed that river winding. To the world's cold, broader view. Passed on to dark streams flowing That are made of numan tears, Where the trended vale is showing Only sky that never cheers ; Down many a painful winding To the troubled future years. Aye, I've lived ! And the years increasing Have brought at times despair I Sun after sun decreasing. And winter everywhere; Since those days when by the rivei I dreamed of all things fair. 124 THE RIVER. But now, with the late sun glowing, O'er jon horizon's line, Nearer, nearer, ever flowing. Comes that river fair of mine ; That river with its music Winding on with song divine. 125 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. dsptratton. T SAID if I were a painter, this night as the sun went down, Over the distant snow-line beyond the valleyed town, I would leave all my soul on Glory's wall in a paint- ing of renown. It should be of the work of the Master, that I saw gleaming there, His own hands holding the canvas, that His love His child might share, The dream of the soul exultant when answer comes to prayer. Great ships with their royal banners and sails all pressing free, Celestial golden islands on waves of crimson sea, And beyond, the port of the angels ! All these held up to me. 126 ASPIRATION. All these lands should be my picture, these islands old and blest ! Eifulgent as the light of dreams that lull the soul to rest, — I said this night unto my soul, if I the brush possessed. Day lifted afar its finger in one last gleam of gold ! And the angels rolled away the dream in silent, burning fold, Which said that Heaven's own painting I could no more behold ! So went the day — all measured — away on Time's great roll ! Lost to mankind — sunlight given — in its weight of present dole ; Broken only when the artist paints and leaves to men his soul. My heart's weight pressed me deeply, as twilight's sombre train Came down the western heavens and gathered in the plain, And I sank to the ground and sorrowed for a day that had been in vain. 127 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. With the dream of my dreams all vanished, I rose to a purpling sky, Hope's evening star was shining, and winds said, with low sigh, "The rv or d is the poet's pigment, let it answer your spirit's cry." 128 A DAFFODIL. a DaffobiL DETWEEN the green field and the gray, ^ The bird upon the hill, I saw to-day in sheltered way, A laughing daffodil. ' O laughing daifodil," I said, " A tender gi-ace is thine ! To bloom upon old winter, dead, And cheer this heart of mine. ' You lift my soul to yon blue arch, Appealingly and fair ! That so, beyond the winds of March, I may all Heaven share." 129 SONGS OF TWO PEOPLES. C^e ^hsi Step, TJE who on the printed page Is more than churl and less than s Brings to it as rarest dower bummer's fragrant opening flower; Holds for nearer eye to view Heaven's broad celestial blue, Rounds within a breeze-turned leaf Lines that live in summer brief, Sees all glory far and free When the new day lights the sea. Watches Beauty break her glass In the roadside on the grass When a trembling drop of dew Pearly meets the sunlight new, — Though he may conceal his power In a budded half-blown flower, — Listening at the river's brink Ere he at the fount doth drink, — Yet he sees o'er heights afar Peerless heaven's brightest star, And has earned the poet's claim To the outer gates of fame. 130 THE POET S GRAVE. C^e Poet's ^rape, "IX/HEN comes the gently breathing spring, ^ ^ And trees their branches rise, Methinks the birds more sweetly sing. With brighter iris on the wing, Where low the poet lies. To him the heir of all things blest Fair Nature weaves her gold; And tells the morn with gleaming crest To leave upon the singer's breast Her crown of jewels old. I care not where may be his grave, 'Neath home or foreign sod ! The treetops that above it wave, — Because he lived to make men brave,- More surely turn to God ! 131 Deacidified using the Bookkeeper Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: Oct. 2009 PreservationTechnologies A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16066 (724)779-2111 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS b"0l'6"2'55''89i' 2 f