Apr> 
 
 .^'\ 
 
 
 

 
 
...Christmas Voices... 
 
 OTHER POEMS, 
 
 F. H. DAVIS. 
 1901. 
 
THE LIBRARY OF 
 CONGRESS, 
 
 Two CoptES Received 
 
 MAR 23 1901 
 
 Copyright entry 
 
 cLasscl xxc. n» 
 
 COPY B. 
 
 
 Copyright 1901— F. H. Davis. 
 
 PRESS OF THE ERIE REVIEW 
 ERIE, COLORADO. 
 
/IRl5 jplrst 
 
 Dolume of ipoems 
 
 IF Dedicate 
 
 ifirst Sweetbeart, 
 
 IFlow 
 
 m^ Mite. 
 
^ablc of Contents, 
 
 riirifetmas Greeting, ... 2 
 
 Christinas Morning, - , . - 3 
 
 Christmas Hymn, ... 4 
 
 Gently P^all, O Kindly Thought, . . 6 
 
 The First Christmas, - . . 7 
 
 A Chri>tmas Story, - , . - 9 
 
 A C'hristmas Prayer, - - - 16 
 
 Tiie Old Man's Story, . . - 19 
 
 Compensation, - - - - 47 
 
 The Coal Miners, - . . - 50 
 
 The Cliff Dwellers, - - - 52 
 
 The Pine Trees, . - 54 
 
 A Valentine, - . . ■ . 55 
 
 Suffering on the Prairies, - . - 57 
 
 Broken, - - - - 60 
 
To - - - - - 62 
 
 Upward, .... 03 
 Grand Lake, .... 65 
 
 New Year, - - - 71 
 
 Truth— A Vision, - - - - 73 
 
 Lost, ..... 75 
 
 Remember the Moonlight, - - .76 
 
 Light and Love, - - - 77 
 
 Farewell, - - - - - 78 
 
 To a Mountain Peak, ... 79 
 
 Memorial Day, - - - SO 
 
 Death, ----- 81 
 
 A Tramp's Story, - - - - 83 
 
 Colorado, - - - 86 
 
 Above the World, - - - - 88 
 
 Day, - - - 90 
 
 Beyond the Clouds, - - - - 92 
 
Ipretace, 
 
 A PREFACE to a voluine of poems is an ucneces- 
 sary evil, hut one wliicli long custom has 
 made imperative. I have very little excuse 
 to offer for this volume. It is; and that its all. In 
 coUectinor my various efforts into a volume I have 
 met with many that I have consigned to the tender 
 mercies of the waste hasket — perhaps some so con- 
 signed are better than any honored with a place in 
 these pages. I have omitted many that, in my 
 judgment, were not worthy of a place, and have 
 admitted many that, had it been left to me alone, 
 would not have been included. But as they are, so 
 are they; and, for better or for worse, the deed 
 is done. 
 
 This edition is limited and it is not my expecta- 
 tion that it will circulate far beyond the confines of 
 my personal acquaintances. 
 
Most of the poems iocluded in this collection 
 have previously appeared in papers with which I 
 have been connected during my fiftt^en years of 
 newspaper work. They were not written with any 
 idea of permanency — often only to fill space. Some 
 of the best things I have written have disappeared 
 from sight and cannot now be recalled. Many of 
 my poems have been of a humorous trend and such I 
 have intentionally omitted, as in mv opinion so- 
 called humorous poeti-y is not true poetry and has no 
 place with it. 
 
 In putting this work on the press 1 wish to 
 thank Rev. J. A. Mustard for his kindness in revis- 
 ing my proofs, and also the many friends whose 
 subscriptions enabled me to confidently undertake 
 the w^ork. 
 
 F. H. Davis. 
 
©n the eontinent's Crest. 
 
 3for us tbe sun gives up bis beat anO ligbt; 
 
 3For us tbe moon sbines trom tbe etbevial blue: 
 ffor us tbewilD^birC* sings trom ^133^ beigbt; 
 
 jfor us tbe tragrant tlowers, ot brilliant bue. 
 
 mitbin us stirs tbe Spirit born ot Song, 
 BnO wbispers tbougbts tbat will not be repressed; 
 
 BnD as we walft lite's bus^ wa^ along, 
 lime pause to sing upon tbe IRew MorlD's crest. 
 
w^^. 
 

 torn^ttma; 
 
 ¥(D)5(se; 
 
 
CHRISTMAS VOICES. 
 
 Gbdstmas Greeting. 
 
 My thoughts this morning turn to thee, 
 And so this greeting I will send; 
 
 For though thou art afar from me, 
 
 'Tis sweet to know and call thee friend. 
 
CHRISTMAS VOICES. 
 
 Cbristmas /IRornlng. 
 
 A ^low on the peaks 
 
 Where a snow-mantle lies, 
 A blush on the cheeks 
 
 Of the morning-lit skies — 
 
 Gray shadows that creep 
 Through the valley below 
 
 Where Night still would sleep, 
 Unwilling to go. 
 
 Then a roseate gleam 
 
 On the face of the sky. 
 Then a glorious stream 
 
 Of light mounting on high- 
 Then the great golden sun 
 
 Gives completeness to day, 
 And, her dark watches done, 
 
 Night hastens away. 
 
CHRISTMAS Voices. 
 
 Cbristmas tb^mn. 
 Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! 
 
 Let the glad hosannas rise, 
 Till the lowly earth-born chorus 
 
 Meets the chorus of the skies. 
 
 Let the prairies catch the echoes, 
 Let the snow-clad peaks rejoice, 
 
 Let the valleys swell the chorus 
 And the rivers find a voice. 
 
 As the morning stars together 
 Sang this morning, long ago. 
 
 Let the inanimate things of nature 
 Join the angelic chorus now. 
 
CHRISTMAS VOICES. 
 
 Till the gi-and triumphant anthem, 
 Swelling upward and afar. 
 
 Shall proslaim to all the nations: 
 ^'We have seen the Eastern Star. 
 
 "We have read aright the message 
 That the hosts angelic bring, 
 
 And in joyous exultation 
 
 Sing we praises to our King." 
 
CHRISTMAS VOICES. 
 
 Gently dfall, © IkinM^ XLbougbt, 
 Winds of winter, Gently blow, 
 (reiitly fall, () fleecy snow. 
 8oft!y fall, 
 
 And cover over. 
 Deeply cover — 
 Cover all. 
 
 Gently fall, O kindly thouoht; 
 With a heavenly message fraught. 
 Fall ere long, 
 
 And cover over, 
 
 Deeply covei\ 
 xVll that's wrong. 
 
 Aiu'ient quarrels hide from sight 
 Cover as with robe of white — 
 And for aye. 
 
 As though with snow 
 They're hid, and lo! 
 They pass away. 
 
CHRISTMAS VOICES. 
 
 XLlic ffivst Cbristmas. 
 
 You liave heard the old, old story 
 Of the l)ri^ht and radiant ^lory 
 That resplendent o'er Jndea shed its soft and won- 
 (irons light; 
 When all tlie world was sleeping, 
 Save the shepherds, who were keeping 
 Lonely watch, their tiocks protecting from the dan- 
 gers of the night. 
 
 Row that radiant lii^ht hroke o'er tlieni. 
 And God's Anmd stood before them. 
 Saying: "Fear not; joyful tidings unto Earth to- 
 night, I bring- — 
 Tidings of a tiny stranger, 
 Cradled in a lowly manger, 
 W1h> is Christ, the Holy Savior, Son of (iod, your 
 promised King. 
 
8 CHRISTMAS VOICES. 
 
 And M host of Angels straightway, 
 Pouring out from Heaven's gateway, 
 
 Joined tlieir voices in a chorus of exultation then. 
 Heaven's harmonies were blended 
 In the sweet strains that descended: 
 
 "Unto God in the highest, glory; on Earth, peach. 
 
 Now, while Christmas bells are rinoing. 
 All the Universe is singing. 
 Angel voices swell the chorus ringing through the 
 Earth below; 
 Thankful for the gift of Heaven, 
 That to needy Earth was given — 
 God's best gift unto his children, on that Christmas 
 long ago. 
 
CHRISTMAS VOICES. 
 
 B Cbdstmas Stori^. 
 '^Wliy?" That's a womarrs question; 
 
 To your first I've answered no; 
 Your second I'll leave unanswered, 
 
 Twere better to leave it so. 
 
 You love Hie, I can not doubt it; 
 
 You are noble and kind and true; 
 But a dead hand reaches from out th^ past 
 
 And holds me away from you. 
 
 You are angry now and will carry 
 
 Your bitter thoughts away. 
 Well, better than lose your friendship, 
 
 I'll ask you a while to stay, 
 
 Till I tell you why I refuse you. 
 
 Perhaps 'twere best you know — 
 That I speak of a sorrow that changed my life- 
 
 A sorrow of long ago. 
 
10 CHRISTMAS YOICKS. 
 
 And so 1 will tell the story. 
 Though tears still dim mj eyes 
 
 When pliantoms from the niistv ] ast 
 At Fancy's call arise. 
 
 Picture, if you can, a canon, 
 
 A canon dark and deep. 
 With walls of gloomy 2;i'anit(% 
 
 Abrupt and high and steep — 
 
 In the canon a little hamlet, 
 
 A score of homes or so, 
 With their gables scarce projecting 
 
 Above the drifts of snow — 
 
 And I, a blue-eyed maiden, 
 AVhom sixteen years had led 
 
 Through a vale of thornless roses 
 AVith summer skies overhead. 
 
CHRISTMAS VOICES. 11 
 
 111 the twilight I was e-taiidiiig 
 
 Close by the cabin door, 
 AVatchiiiu; the length'nino; shadows, 
 
 As Vd watched them oft before, 
 
 And list'ning with girlish pleasure 
 
 To one who talked with me, 
 A youiiD- man, tall and handsome, 
 
 Whose wife I was soon to be. 
 
 And I loved him — for he was worthy 
 Of the best love I could give — 
 
 1 love him yet, tliongh he is dead. 
 And 1 am left to live. 
 
 ^^^isteii," he said, ''my darling, 
 AVlien you my own shall be, 
 
 (^More precious than gold or rubies) 
 God's Christmas gift to me. 
 
12 CHRISTMAS V(>ICES. 
 
 ''I'll BO longer ask the mountains 
 
 To yield to me their gold, 
 For wealth more rare than any there, 
 
 My 'raptured heart bhall hold. 
 
 "Your love, my own my darling. 
 
 Your love so pure and sweet, 
 Ere to-morrow's trlow fades from the snow, 
 
 Will make my life complete. 
 
 "And yet I fear and tremble 
 
 On the eve of our marriage-day, 
 
 Lest the cup so dear, to my lips so near, 
 Shall yet be dashed away." 
 
 He kissed my lips, and I trembled, 
 Though sharing not his fears, 
 
 (That kiss, his last, has l)onnd my soul 
 To his, through all these years.) 
 
CHRISTMAS VOICES. 
 
 ''Look at the snow!" and he pointed 
 To the n)ountains cold and white, 
 
 "It seems ready to fall, my darling. 
 There is danger, I fear, to-night." 
 
 He took my hand as he said this, 
 And led me within the door. 
 
 I thought 'tNvere an idle fancy — 
 It seemed to be nothing more. 
 
 But a sudden hu>h had fallen. 
 
 And all was deathly still, 
 Till a gro\ring murmur seemed to break 
 
 From the breast of the granite hill. 
 
 xVnd then a mighty tremor 
 
 Shook all the startled air — 
 Then came the crashing of the walls — 
 
 The sharp shrieks of despair. 
 
 18 
 
14 CHRISTMAS VOICES. 
 
 Tiien darkness, utter darkness, 
 
 But I was not alone, 
 For out (>l llie darkness re.-icliin<j;, 
 
 A warm hand giasped my own; 
 
 And a voice that was liiislied and muffled. 
 
 And tremulous witlj pain, 
 Said: ^'Courage, courage, darling; 
 
 With life will hope remain." 
 
 Oh, those fearful hours of (hirknessl 
 While 1 struoxded for mv breath. 
 
 And tlie hand I clasped was chilling 
 With the killing cold of death. 
 
 Oil, those awful hours of darkness. 
 Crushed and smothe;ed hy the snow, 
 
 'With men woikino; far ahctve us, 
 Seekinor for the dead below. 
 
CHRISTMAS VOICES. 15 
 
 I licard them, but I could not tell him, 
 Toiild hut firmer press liis hand. 
 
 To let him know rhit help was near us — 
 Strive to mahe liim understand — 
 
 And I could not touch tln^ forehead 
 With the chillinrr death damp wet, 
 
 Xor kiss the paling lips, so near, 
 That my own so oi't had met. 
 
 Ever faiijter grew the whispers 
 From the lips I loved to hear, 
 
 S])eakino; with their dying efforts, 
 Words of comfo]-t and of cheei-. 
 
 Stroiifj^ hands toiled uiuil they found us 
 And tlie light their lanterns shed. 
 
 Showed us hand in hand nnconscions — 
 I, tlie living, he, tlie dead. 
 
16 CHRISTMAS VOICES. 
 
 Fie is buried in the canon, 
 
 Where the snow lies cold and white, 
 All my heart is buried with him, 
 
 So I told YOU no, to-night. 
 
 B Cbrlstmas prater. 
 
 Ahnighty God, to thee we raise 
 Our voices in a song of praise; 
 
 For thou didst give, in thy great grace, 
 
 Redemption to a fallen race; 
 And on this day we ask again: 
 Oh, make us worthy. Lord, 
 
 Amen ! 
 

 TDne ®W 
 
 Mam's Story o 
 
The crescent moon had^snnk to rest ; 
 Behind the monn tains of the AYest. 
 The stars, with hesitating light, 
 Flaslied from the darkening vault of night. 
 Each grim and hoary mountain peak 
 Still rested on the twilight's cheek, 
 As if the warmth that then it felt 
 Might cause its stony heart to melt;. 
 And, penetrating ev'ry part. 
 Could cause its frozen tears to start, 
 And, softening features, now so stern, 
 Make them with gentler luster burn. 
 
20 
 
 And as the gaze half wond'ring swept 
 To where the length'uing shadows crept 
 It seemed as if such thoughts were true — 
 The rugged crags less rugged grew. 
 The dying twilight's trembling glow 
 Brought blushes to the cheeks of snow, 
 And mighty crags of cold gray stone 
 Were warm and fair to look upon. 
 Slow fades the landscape from the sight 
 And all the world is lost in night, 
 Save where the camp fire's flashes fall 
 On the scattered trees that huge and tall 
 Stand clear against the black night wall. 
 Within the circle by the firelight made 
 Some men in frontier garb arrayed 
 Were resting, lying on the ground. 
 Taking their ease the fire around. 
 The smoke that upward there did float 
 To vanish in the realms remote 
 Slow rose, as if 'twere fain to rest 
 
THE OLD man's STORY. 21 
 
 All listless on the prairie's breast. 
 The trees that grew along the stream 
 Scarce moved their leaves. Still as a dream 
 The waters moved. The prairies wide 
 That reached for miles on every side 
 Were still, save the prowling coyote's howl 
 And the mocking laugh of the prairie owl. 
 Silence prevailed, till from his lips the smoke 
 Blowing in rings, a young man spoke — 
 "Why are we still? The night is long; 
 Let's pass a part with tale or song. 
 The eldest iirst shall speak, and then, 
 If all agree, we younger men.'' 
 The speaker turned to one whose brow 
 Time had in passing crowned with snow, 
 A grave old man, upon whose face 
 Had care and pain oft left a trace; 
 A kindly man, whose accents told 
 Of some refinement known of old. 
 Who sat from all the rest apart 
 
09 
 
 THE OLD MAN S STORY. 
 
 As if communing with his heart. 
 
 "Give us a tale,'' the young man said. 
 
 Tiie old man raised his hoary head 
 
 (Those who v^ere near heard that he sighed) 
 
 And thus to, hi^ comrades he replied — 
 
 '•W)]at,sij^n'^I.,t^ll? In Fancy's flight -,1 
 
 I haverbeeiiinrthe past to-night. 
 
 You \pnda^ ^hat I'm all alone, 
 
 AVhy love3 Qiies are to me unknown; 
 
 AVhy, old and way-w^orn, I must keep 
 
 ^ly path alone dovyn lUe's rough steep. 
 
 T sometimes wonder why from men 
 
 I'm singled out. What might have been 
 
 I know; but, it is not for me 
 
 To think of that, or what mioht be. 
 
 What is, is best. AVho sees us all 
 
 And heeds the sparrow should it fall 
 
 Makes no mistake. Thongh strange to me 
 
 His ways are best or would not be. ^ , ,, 
 
 These thoughts bring peace; but in my breast 
 
THE OLD MAN S STOKY. 
 
 There still is striving, and unrest 
 Within my soul. To still the strife 
 I'll tell the. story of my life.— 
 
 I love the plains. If hy and by 
 Within the prairie's breast I lie 
 I'll be content; their silence deep 
 Is fit for a weary soul's long sleep. 
 And yet not always did I dwell 
 Upon the plains I love so well; 
 For where with loud and boist'rous roar 
 The waves break on the rocky siiore 
 Of fair New England, far away, 
 My infant eyes first saw the day — 
 The waves that on the ledges beat 
 Made music that hushed me to sleep. 
 Still back to me my mem'ry brings 
 Bright visionsof the ships' white wings 
 That, glancing.i>'i)r the glassy sea, 
 Were watched M childhood's hours by me. 
 The schoolhouse in a sheltered nook — 
 
24 
 
 The dog-eared, blue-backed spelling book 
 The seats arranged along the wall — 
 The spectacled master grim and tall — 
 Are all remembered; not as though 
 They all were gone long years ago; 
 For often as I sleep I seem 
 To live life over in a dream, 
 And all things, as they used to be, 
 The Dream King shows again to me. 
 Thus many years had passed away, 
 Like a long and dreamy day; 
 And then was born within my breast 
 A longing for the distant West. 
 I'd heard the stories that were told 
 Of crystal streams with sands of gold. 
 And in the distance I could see 
 Vast untold fortunes waiting me. . 
 1 longed for that distant land to start. 
 But could not bring myself to part 
 With one — a girl, whose great dark eyes 
 
THE OLD man's STORY. 25 
 
 Wore a look of pained surprise 
 
 Whoi] I told my thoughts, to think that I 
 
 Should wish from one so fond to part 
 My fortunes in far lands to try 
 
 Away from every loving heart. 
 Fair Euth, — ray souFs eyes still can see 
 
 My darling of the long ago; 
 True w^as her heart as heart could be 
 And it always beat alone for me 
 
 From the earliest times I know. 
 At school the self- same tasks were ours, 
 
 And when the school-time's work was done 
 Together we strayed through the woodland 
 
 bowers 
 Or gathered ferns and meadow flowers 
 
 Dow^n where the brook did run. 
 Fair as a child, the passing years 
 Made a more perfect beauty hers — 
 Her great dark eyes, in childhood bright, 
 Now glowed with a purer, holier light, 
 
\Vh\\ \u ih'iv^ \i>^yk ^\w^ U\>ku^^^ O^ivu^)^ 
 TU^ 5^Uk^« U^j^^kv^ m,^Kit^ ^UvM^^ 
 
 \Vlucl\ \xv\i\l< xwMiU uv>r \x)- \N>«W wot U^U, 
 
 Ho t$\^>ix sH?i U ho\^ ihort^ Iv^oUi 
 
 Of iho foivt^sii 5!i:ni^U«^^ *« hi^ ?i^>uU 
 An\i in hU nuKi kW|> voiv^ \\»wt <>n 
 To loU tho ?it w hoM lv^\uK 
 
 Wo Wh^ <>ur V^3!iiorn hon\o ^^whI hvo 
 
\U*,\u*m\\\ i\ii'. myh of ilm nvt'ti'nt^ kinr, 
 l''nt' tfitmy witakn wa ymrtmyi'A on 
 Our ^;t''<^•, lowjini t)i<j nutiiu^ hint 
 'I'litd flow rjo rrjonj in iIm? kiituiy plain 
 Ivk'Ij i'Witw'wii^f r',i\i\i Ui ^^rifnfcon u^mU 
 
 'Dint \iH'kiM\ \hit porl;il- of tlj<^ W«ht, 
 \V<< linJ)^lM'd our j<>iirn<?y 'juickly lli'^n 
 
 An<i hII <'iir loilronx? ff»fijrlM*H pa^t 
 'Dm- 'A'<;(ry lion-'r h^/i'J wrfary tru^n 
 
 I'oini'l a w<'l"oiK<< r^'ht at l«rf, 
 VVIk'M tlidh to i»iy profni r^i Inn'] I'd ^-onio 
 On lt<u'ky Itun I huilt u li'>rj/<; 
 A noJMy MlriMffi, that, uitli l>oi<^tVoiiH flow 
 CoifMfH riowf) from itn Hourcij-v arnid \\n', nnow 
 A (/l<iMi-uii{ htrffain, tlir^ trrr-H rliat lino 
 jth haiil'H an' with t|i<! (^\^'\l\^.^.\\^ vino 
 III r<';^loorih 'l(;^'l<<'<l : tJK* ^ra<'(ffMl Utvw 
 
 III lli(? I<f<l^<'h' hlia<]«^ ^rowH ]nm'. and t.)j<;n; 
 
28 
 
 Where the shadows fall ; else the sun would l>nrii 
 
 The delicate leaflets, frail and fair; 
 And drooping willows stoop to kiss 
 The stream so merrily flowing by 
 That seems to laugh like a saucy miss 
 Who leaves her lover alone to sigh. 
 Just where the plains and mountains meet, 
 Where first the prairies the waters greet, 
 I built a cottage, rude to see, 
 Yet almost a palace it seemed to me; 
 Where Ruth was Queen and I was King 
 And I feared not the troubles Time might bring. 
 For with love and Ruth, and my own strong will 
 I defied the world to do me ill. 
 We dwelt in peace, my Ruth and I — 
 With unnoted hours a year flew by. 
 I was so happy I sometimes thought, 
 Blinded by love, I quite forgot 
 'Twas God who made me so, not Ruth — 
 I loved her more than God — in truth 
 
THE ULD man's STORY. 29 
 
 She was my all. 1 sadly bow 
 
 To God and acknowledge my error now. 
 
 Sometimes when man, his vision dim, 
 
 Worships some earthly thing too well, 
 He angers God, who gives to him 
 
 Moments of Heaven, but hours of Hell, 
 And takes the idol worshiped so, 
 
 Depriving the soul of its earthly light. 
 And leaves it to grope in the dark below 
 
 Or slowly struggle to Heaven's height. 
 And Euth I loved with a greater love 
 Than I gave to God on His throne above; 
 And Mary, the baby — the name she bore 
 
 Was my mother's name, and it seemed to me 
 That in her face I saw once more 
 
 The face that in boyhood I loved to see — 
 But on these things I must not dwell 
 But hasten w^ith what 1 have to tell. 
 One morning bright, when sky was fair, 
 
 1 kissed her good-bye and rode away. 
 
30 THE OLD man's STORY. 
 
 I left her so lovely standintr there 
 
 In the glow of the morning the brightest ray; 
 I meant Init to go to tlie distant town — 
 
 I said rd return when three days wei-e past. 
 I looked back npon tliem as I rode down, 
 
 Nor dreamed that look should be my last. 
 How pretty Mary looked that day 
 
 As she held out her tiny hands to me — 
 Crowing and laughing so good and gay — 
 None dreamed of danger soon to be. 
 By easy stages journeying down, 
 On the next da^^ I reached the town; 
 Along the solitary street. 
 My l)usiness none, my I'estless feet 
 Had carried me, for my heart did yearn 
 For the coming day when I'd return. 
 The sun, a disc of brrnished gold. 
 Had lialf his daily journey told; 
 
 And, poising at his highest peak. 
 Looked down throucxh Indian- summer haze 
 
THE OLD man's STORY. 31 
 
 To kiss the brown and withered cheek 
 The prairies turned to meet his gaze. 
 
 The droning bee, with drowsy hum, 
 Slow flitted through the heavy air; 
 
 Save that all Nature's voice was dumb, 
 And sultry silence everywhere 
 Rested oppressive on the ear. 
 The weary eye sought, all in vain, 
 For rest upon the sandy plain 
 That brown and parche^ did thirsting lie. 
 Beneath a dun, unpitying sky. 
 A loner the desolate village street 
 JNo sliade trees broke the rays of heat. 
 The cow-boys' ponies, safely tied 
 To hitching- posts on either side, 
 Stood in the blaze of heat and lioht 
 And waited, patient, for tht^ night. 
 Their masters, loUino; in the shade 
 Of the bar-room porch, their thirst allayed 
 With drinks that burned the parching throat 
 
32 THE OLD man's STORY. 
 
 Instead of eoolino;. More remote, 
 Beyond the limits of the street, 
 The desert silence was complete — 
 The type and epitome of death — 
 The yucca and the cactus there. 
 Alone could live in that dry air 
 Where bird or beast could scarce draw breath. 
 But suddenly from out the haze, 
 Urging to its utmost speed 
 A weary, lagging, foam -flecked steed, 
 A way-worn rider met my gaze. 
 His broad sombrero, backward flung, 
 Nodded in time to the hoofs that rung 
 On the beaten trail. As on he came 
 I saw that he clutched his horse's mane 
 As though in weakness; bending low 
 Above a blood-stained saddle-bow. 
 As he nearer came, with a sudden start. 
 And a nameless fear that stilled my heart, 
 I saw the rider was a friend 
 
THE OLD man's STORY. 33 
 
 Of mine who dwelt at River Bend. 
 I started forward, but inj feet 
 
 Refused their otiice. In my heart 
 
 A thousand fears began to start 
 And made it faster, loudei-, beat. 
 I dimlv saw the gath'ringr men 
 
 Help the tired rider to alicrht. 
 lie asked for water, drank — and then, 
 
 Weakness conquered by vvill's niiaht. 
 He spoke. 1 bent niy head and heard, 
 Despair increasincr at each word — 
 
 'The red-skins aie at war aorn'n. 
 Are stealintT horses, killin<r men; 
 Ah'eadv down on Rocky Run 
 They've burned the ranches — everyone — - 
 I come for help, for tiiey intend 
 A massacre up at River l^end. 
 1 left at dawn; they saw me, then'— - 
 I heard no more, tlie j^ath'rin*'" men 
 With frantic haste T thrust a^ide 
 
34 THE OLD man's STORY. 
 
 And rushed to where my horse was tied. 
 I threw the saddle to its place 
 
 And drew the cinch with frantic speed, 
 The bridle seized, and to quick pace 
 
 Urged on my light and wiry steed. 
 All this in a blind, unreasoning way, 
 And blindly, too, I tried to pray 
 And tried to think, but all my thought 
 Despair had into chaos wrought. 
 My thoughts impetuous rushed along 
 Like drift on a flood sw^elled current strong 
 That, all unguided, rushes fast 
 Only to find no goal at last. 
 The road flew fast beneath the feet 
 Of my tireless mustang, strong and fleet; 
 Mile after mile, with sage and sand 
 Ahead, behind, and on either hand. — 
 Mile after mile, and yet it seemed 
 As if I tiaveled not, but dreamed — 
 As if some phantom of the night 
 
THE OLD MAN S STORY. ^ 
 
 Had bound me, and the morning light 
 
 Must set me free from that horror deep, 
 
 That awful fantasy of sleep. 
 
 I raved, I vowed it should not be — 
 
 He lied who brouaht such news to me — 
 
 My home upon tlie Rocky Run, 
 
 The fairest home beneath the sun. 
 
 Had not been burned — ^twas not the truth, 
 
 The red-skins had not slain my Ruth.— 
 
 But no, he said all had been burned, 
 
 All the ranches on Rocky Run; 
 
 And now the veiled and sullen sun 
 Looked on my liome to ashes turned. — 
 Thus I'eason whispered, and 1 wept. 
 
 Oh, bles-ed tears, they brought relief 
 
 To my soul upon its rack of grief, 
 And a caaii across my sp"rit crept. 
 Long years have passed since then, and yet 
 Not once since then have my eyes been wet. 
 The sun went down as on I sped. 
 
30 THE OLD main's STORY. 
 
 The liarvest moon I'ose round and red; 
 And tlien 1 saw a crimson li^ht 
 Flash through the darkness of the night. 
 T saw the furious Haines ascend 
 Fi'oni the buining homes at River Bend, 
 And faintly heard the distant shont 
 Of savages dancing the lire about. 
 I did not pause, but kept my course 
 And only faster urged my horse, 
 For many miles must yet be passed, 
 And day was coming — coming fast. 
 Of danger not a thought had I — 
 If they were dead I, too, would die. 
 So on tlirough the darkness fast I sped. 
 With foes behind and foes ahead. 
 Oft in man's life a time is known 
 When reason, losing her control 
 Over the ever struggling soul. 
 Falters and trembles on her throne; 
 When rising clouds of grief uproU, 
 
THE OLD man's STORY. 37 
 
 AVlieii death bells in the sad heart toll, 
 And all his beiiio; seems to irroaii 
 In answer to their sullen tone. 
 In such a moment eomes despaii- 
 
 And lends to men cold nerves of steel; 
 Reason resumes her sceptre there, 
 
 And man in his beincr, seems to feel 
 The strength of God to do or dare 
 Without man's help, or help of prayer. 
 'Twas thus with nie — all hope was dead — ■ 
 To learn the worst I onwai-d fled 
 Hoping, fearing, caring nought, 
 My mind intent on a single thought^ 
 To reach my goal. My mustang's strength, 
 Though great, began to fail at length; 
 1 felt the quiver of tired limb. 
 And in my heart I pitied him; 
 But still, with spur and raw- hide blow, 
 I urged him to still faster go. 
 He kept up bravely — but in vain, 
 
88 THE OLD man's STORY. 
 
 Exhaustion conquered, and lie fell 
 Headlong upon the sandy plain 
 
 In sight of the hills where my Ruth did dwel 
 He struggled faintly then to rise — 
 I looked into his glazing eyes 
 iVnd knew that Death claimed a friend 
 Who had proved faithful to tlie end. 
 I loosed the cinch to give him breath, 
 
 For him the last act I could do; 
 
 Anotlier master now he knew, 
 A mightier master, who was Death. 
 I paused to rest a moment, then 
 I quickly hurried on again; 
 Th3 rising sun had touched with red 
 The crags toward which my pathway led. 
 I heard the stream, whose waters fell 
 So musically adown the dell. 
 Save but for that a silence deep 
 Seemed over all the world to creep; 
 Awful silence, stern and dread, 
 
THE OLD man's STOKY. 81) 
 
 Like that in cities of the dead. 
 
 Just as thf^ sun's first golden beam 
 
 Fell all aflame on tir-^ silver stream 
 
 I reached my home that once had been; 
 
 Now savage hate and fiendish sin 
 
 Had, all iHipitying, lit the Are 
 
 That made my home the funeral pyre 
 
 Of all my liopes. The ruin there 
 
 Proved that my God had scorned my prayer; 
 
 The lights of Faith and Hope went out 
 
 As though they ne'er should burn again, 
 And ruined altars lay about 
 
 My soul that groped in darkness then; 
 But, rallying all my strength, I cried 
 
 Ruth's nanie aloud, but all in vain; — 
 Only the eelioing hills replied, 
 Answei-ing back from the canon's side, 
 
 As if the rocks could feel my pain. 
 I raved when silence conflrmed my fear — 
 
 Still softly the granite ciags replied, 
 
40 THE OLD man's STORY. 
 
 And the whispering trees by the water's sidt 
 JViurmured a comfort I could not hear. 
 Now, that at lengtli I knew the worst, 
 
 My strength fast failed; so weak was 1 
 As I turned to quench my burning thirst 
 
 At the stream so noisily tlowincr by 
 1 staggered and stumbled, and nearly fell; 
 Then saw — I shudder e'en now to tell 
 Of the sight that met my startled eyes 
 And held them fast in dread surprise. 
 In the trembling shade of the aspen ti'ees 
 That shivered and quivered, though no breeze 
 Was stirring that could move a leaf, 
 (Thev trembled, like my soul, witli grieF), 
 My Ruth was lying. She had lied 
 From the burning home, and fallen dead 
 'Mid the Howers and ferns of the hidden dell 
 That, in happier hours, she lovt'd so well. 
 Her motionless and wounded bi-east 
 Close to the blood stained moss was pressed, 
 
41 
 
 And tlie ferns that ^rew by the water's side 
 
 With a strange and a crimson stain were dyed. 
 
 No words of mine can half express 
 
 The wond'rous beauty of raven tress, 
 
 Wind-wreatlied above a bloodless brow 
 
 Whiter than y:)nrest marble now. 
 
 Her face was turned so I could see 
 
 Her eyes that always smiled to me; 
 
 Now ho\v they stared — they seemed to wear 
 
 A mute, appealing look of prayer. 
 
 How still she lay, with lips close drawn — 
 Strange ashy lips — where kiss of Death 
 Had stolen color and stolen breath; 
 
 And eyes that gazed on the great unknown 
 
 Made her to seem more strangely fair 
 
 Than livincr mortals ever are. 
 
 o 
 
 How long 1 gazed, as in a spell. 
 Upon her there I cannot tell. 
 At last I knelt, and in my own 
 I took her hand. How like a stone. 
 
42 THE OLD MA^'S STORY. 
 
 Heavy and cold, it seemed to be, 
 
 Nor wanned when clasped or kissed by me. 
 
 The hand that my own rugged grasp 
 
 Had answered with such tender clasp, 
 
 Or loving rested on my brow, 
 
 Was cold and unresponsive now. 
 
 How long I knelt I ne'er have known — 
 
 A searching party found me there; 
 
 Reason had left me, and despair 
 And frenzy marked me for their own. 
 For months the fever in my brain 
 
 Burned fiercely; but at length 
 Eeason resumed her throne again 
 
 And Spring, returning, brought me strength 
 But when I walked abroad again 
 
 My hair was white ps locks of snow. 
 
 My beard as white as it is now^; 
 Though young, I seemed an old, old man. 
 Long weary years have passed since then 
 And I've sought for Mary all in vain. 
 
THE OLD man's STORY. 43 
 
 But hope is hope; it cannot die — 
 
 And so, led on by phantoms fair 
 That from my sight forever fly 
 
 And vanish in the viewless air, 
 I wander on, but never far 
 From where my best loved memories are. 
 Waiting until I'm called to go 
 Beyond the sunset's golden glow — 
 To the shores beyond life's troubled sea 
 Where Ruth and Mary wait for me." 
 
 The old man paused; the Are was low 
 And flickered with a feeble glow 
 As the night wind kissed it, cold and damp. 
 And silence and darkness ruled the camp. 
 
 (r^^s>:»=j) 
 
)o(c5>oroWO(&5)o(fe3)o(b »^^ 
 
 ns(seli 
 
Compensation. 
 
 (in the presence of death.) 
 
 He's departed — broken hearted, ' 
 
 We are left a moment only; 
 Not forever would God sever 
 
 Souls that love and leave us lonely. 
 Nature ever is repeating: "For each parting there's 
 a meeting." 
 In the harmony of nature every loss must have its 
 gain — 
 Not a chord but whose vibration find its certain 
 compensation ; 
 Every link is but a portion of a universal chain. 
 
48 MISCELLANEOUS EOEMS. 
 
 We can borrow for our sorrow 
 
 Solace, sweet, from Nature's story; 
 Now 'tis sadness — now 'tis gladness, 
 Darkness but gives birth to glory. 
 Tho' the tenderest ties are broken, tho' the last fare- 
 wells are spoken, 
 And the fond kiss falls unheeded on the cold aiic 
 pallid brow — 
 Nature w^iispers: ''Be thou certain that beyond th( 
 mystie curtain 
 Still the chain remains unbroken, tho' thou cans 
 not see it now." 
 
 God, who loved him, hath removed him 
 
 From the sombre world of sorrow. 
 Hearts ai-e smarting with tlie parting 
 That shall glow with joy to-morrow. 
 Loving faith still bids defiance to the colder creed 
 
 science. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 49 
 
 Reason bows her head to listen when Hope whis- 
 pers soft and low; 
 And we know bejond the portal all will wake to life 
 iuimorlal — 
 
 We have parted in the twilight to meet in the 
 morning's glow. 
 
 In God's keeping he is sleeping — 
 Sweetly sleeping — he was weary. 
 Though but sleeping, we are weeping, 
 And the world seems dark and dreary; 
 But we know the Savior's story, who w^as dead and 
 rose in gloi-y. 
 And we bow our heads in meekness to the Father, 
 kind and just, 
 And await the glorious dawning of the resurrection 
 morning. 
 When we'll meet beyond the darkness with the 
 dear ones loved and lost. 
 
^be Coal /Iftiners. 
 
 Deep down in the heart of the earth 
 Afar from the light of the sun, 
 
 That the glow maj not fade on the hearth 
 Their wearisome labor is done. 
 
 Far down in the darkness and damp 
 They toil in the smoke-laden air; 
 
 The fitful glow of the lamp 
 
 But heightens the darkness that's there. 
 
 The world is too thoughtless to care 
 How they labor by night and by day. 
 
 How, down in the darkness, they wear 
 The years of their manhood away. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 51 
 
 So toil they from youth until age — 
 Companions to Danger and Death — 
 
 Toil on for a pitiful wage, 
 
 As long as God giveth them breath. 
 
 Then they die! — and forgotten they rest. 
 
 For them the world spares not a sigh 
 
 The heavy clods fall on the breast, 
 
 And the great world, unheeding, goes by. 
 
^be cm Dwellers. 
 
 Mute monuments of a dead and buried race — 
 Strange relics of a long forgotten age — 
 Unlettered margins torn from history's page, 
 
 Why stand ye here? Who put ye in this place '( 
 
 What actors moved upon this ancient stage ? 
 Say, silent crags, along the canon's side, 
 Is there no name that never yet has died ? 
 
 Poet, philosopher, saint, or holy sage! — - 
 
 Have they all perished, and left not a trace 
 That with these stones forever shall abide ? 
 
 No; none! Time's river did erase 
 
 All marks of this forgotten nation's pride; 
 
 Barbaric splendor and their sylvan grace 
 
 Alike were whelmed beneath the restless tide. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 53 
 
 Of deeds of valor, by tlieir heroes done, 
 No poet sang and, dying, left his song 
 To he repeated by an endless throng. 
 
 No sage who bowed to greet the rising sun 
 
 And in rude wisdom walked his w^ay along 
 
 Has carved in stone his feeble, fleeting thought, 
 To tell the creed he lived, believed and taught. 
 
 And now an alien people, who art^ strong 
 
 In war and wisdom, and have truly won 
 
 A foremost place by the great deeds they've wrought, 
 
 Walk 'mid the ruins, and wonder if some wrong- 
 Angered high Heaven, and with ruin fraught 
 
 Irs wrath descended — and if 'neath the thong 
 Of sin we, too, shall come to naught. 
 
^be ipine Zxccs, 
 Tell nie, what are the pine trees saying 
 As the wind, their branches swaying, 
 Gives them voice ? 
 
 Why do they moan and sigh forever — 
 Weeping and wailing, as though they never 
 Could rejoice ^ 
 
 Is it for the dead they're weeping? 
 For the mortals that are sleeping 
 'Neath the mould ? 
 
 Man's life gleams a moment dimly — 
 They stand for ages, towering grimly — 
 Giants old. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, DO 
 
 No! 'tis not for that they're weeping— 
 Not that mortal men are sleeping 
 Everywhere. 
 
 So the golden sunbeams kiss them, 
 So the mountain winds caress them — 
 Naught they care. 
 
 Why they thus are always weeping, 
 What sad secrets they are keeping, 
 They've not said. 
 
 1 only know they're always sighing, 
 Still will mourn when I am dying 
 
 And W'ill grieve when 1 am dead. 
 
B Dalentlne. 
 
 Lady I 1 saw not many days ago 
 
 From Heaven slow drifting down a llake of snow 
 
 Pure as thyself. It drifted past thy face 
 
 And rested on a tiny fringe of lace 
 
 That clasped thy throat; and as I watched it there 
 
 It slowly melted, and was lost in air. 
 
 Delicious death I Oh, could it be that I 
 Might such a death in such a manner die! 
 And resting there, upon thy balmy breast, 
 Slow sink away into eternal rest. 
 
Sutterlng on tbe iprairies. 
 
 Written at a time when the people of the "Rain Belt" were in want 
 on account of drought. 
 
 There is suffering on the prairies 
 
 Where the snow lies cold and white; 
 
 There are many cheerless firesides 
 That are cold and dark to-night. 
 
 There are babes that moan with hunorer 
 
 Upon the mother's breast; 
 And on faces, worn and pallid, 
 
 Is the mark of famine pressed. 
 
 They hav^e toiled, those hardy settlers, 
 They have struggled — but in vain! 
 
 The pitiless sun above them 
 
 Scorched their fields upon the plain. 
 
58 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 All is lost. Their toil and hardships, 
 
 That so manfally they bear, 
 Are in vain. Has God forsaken 'i 
 
 Will He fail to hear their prayer '( 
 
 Must their children die of hunger 
 When there's plenty in the land ? 
 
 Are there none who wish to aid them ? 
 None to lend a helping hand ? 
 
 Hark! From West and North the tidings- 
 
 "We are ready, do not fear! 
 God has heard, and we. His servants. 
 
 Send an answer to your prayer. 
 
 From our stores of gold and silver, 
 From our bursting bins of grain. 
 
 Swift as steam can bear them on\^'ard 
 To the dwellers of the plain. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 59 
 
 Will we send them all that's needful — 
 Food for starving babe and wife; 
 
 Gold and silver freely give them — 
 What are these, compared with life ( 
 
 Give them freely — they are needy! 
 
 Give from out our plenteous store! 
 And on God's great book recorded 
 
 Shall the gift stand evermore. 
 
 'They were naked and ye clothed them; 
 
 Hungered, and ye gave them food.' 
 In the name of God we do it" — 
 
 And God answers, "It is good." 
 
 ^^^ 
 
Broften. 
 
 Once a king, o'er whose dominions 
 Gracious Wisdom spread her pinions, 
 Built a strange and wondrous time-piece, in each 
 part most complete. 
 'Neath a dome of wondrous beauty 
 The magic wheels did well their duty, 
 While beneath a perfect pendulum in perfect meas- 
 ure beat. 
 
 Rightly was each part adjusted, 
 But a strange spell on it rested. 
 And one word by fair lips spoken could its mechanism 
 jar. 
 Only one a word could utter 
 That could cause the slightest flutter 
 Of the pendulum so perfect, and its faithful record 
 mar. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 61 
 
 But that single word was spoken 
 
 And the pendulum was broken — 
 Nevermore in perfect time would it swing. 
 
 But with tremulous vibrations 
 
 And with varying oscillations 
 Di<l it mark uncertain time for the king. 
 
 Till at last it stopped forever, 
 As though wearied by endeavor 
 That was useless; for it seemed as if it ever throbbed 
 in vain. 
 But the maker -full of pity — 
 May, in some far distant city, 
 Cause the wondrous works to vibrate in harmony 
 again. 
 
 (r*^^s>.«=sP 
 
Zo 
 
 All know thou art lovely, I know thou art proud, 
 Yet with all of thy beauty soon — soon will the shroud 
 Envelope thy beauty and pride. On thy cheek 
 The groveling earth-worm shall sustenance seek. 
 
 Thou dost scorn every lover! When Death comes to 
 
 woo. 
 Thy scorn cannot save thee — with him must thou go. 
 He'll be a brave lover! With his skeleton arm 
 He closely will clasp thee, and shield thee from 
 hai-m. 
 
 Thou 'It be robed for thy bridal in garments of white; 
 
 On thy pale brow shall rest thy tresses of light! 
 
 All pulseless and cold on thy motionless breast 
 At the touch of thy bride-groom, thy fair hands 
 shall rest. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 63 
 
 Thy lips are of cherry! When they meet 'those of 
 
 Death 
 In a kiss, they will pale; they will close, and 
 between them thy breath 
 No longer shall flow. Thy bright, laughing eye 
 Shall be dimmed — thou shalt die. 
 
 Then silently, slow, shalt thou go to thy home, 
 Thy dwelling eternal — that men call the tomb. 
 
 Thou shalt be forgotten! Thy headstone shall 
 praise 
 
 Thy beauty, thy virtues, but for a few days. 
 
 As uninterrupted the ages shall flow 
 
 E'en that column of marble in dust shall lie low. 
 
 No mark, no inscription — unthought of, un- 
 known. 
 
 Thou shalt rest till a cycle of cycles has flown — 
 Till the stars are extinoruished and darkened the sun, 
 Till time and eternity merge into one. 
 
lUpwarD. 
 The nearer we walk to Heaven the rougher is the 
 
 way, 
 A rugged pathway must we tread, who reach the 
 
 heights to-day ; 
 But with all earth beneath us — above us none but 
 
 God— 
 We'll not i-egret the rocky way our weary feet have 
 
 trod. 
 
 So onward then and upward let's toil with all our 
 
 might 
 And triumphant on the summit we'll make our camp 
 
 to-night; 
 And resting there at evening, our weary striving 
 
 done. 
 Enjoy the proud position by our endeavor won. 
 
(3ranD Xafte. 
 
 In the vague and vacant vastness 
 
 Of a frowning forest fastness 
 Lies a dreamy lake, whose waters whisper evermore; 
 
 And the melancholy sighing 
 
 Of the pine trees seems replying 
 Voices of the elfin dwellers in the forest on the shore. 
 
 And at nitrht the moon doth lend her 
 Soft rays to enhance the splendor, 
 And the waters change to silver 'neath the magic of 
 her beams. 
 And the lake, the light reflecting. 
 O'er the granite crags projecting, 
 Changeth them to fairy castles, builded by the King 
 of Drt^ams. 
 
66 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And the softened, gloomy grandeur 
 Fills with awe the wand'rincr strani^er 
 Who beholds the cliffs' bold outlines softened in the 
 silver light. 
 And the liquid light down-flowing, 
 All concealing, yet half showing 
 Spirit caves and fairy grottoes, mystic regions brings 
 to sight. 
 
 Where the waves, the forest meeting, 
 Whisper to the trees a greeting 
 Once I lingered, while the waters kissed the pebbles 
 at my feet. 
 On a mossy bank I rested 
 And strange thoughts the waves suggested 
 As they whispered to each other in low voices, soft 
 and sweet. 
 
 As, half dreaming, I was lying. 
 Sensations strange and stupefying 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 67 
 
 Stopped my ears and dulled my senses and uncertain 
 made my sight. 
 Then a sudden light broke o'er me — 
 And from out the lake before me 
 Kose a rare and beauteous being, radiant as the 
 morning light. 
 
 Who, across the lake advancing. 
 Attendant sprites about her dancing, 
 Caused my heart to feel the presence of the Spirit of 
 the Lake. 
 Strange thoughts in )ny brain were seething, 
 Yet I lay there, scarcely breathing. 
 
 Lest the magic spell should break. 
 
 But the spiiit paused beside me 
 Saying, "No ill shall betide thee. 
 Happiest, thou, of all the living, that thou canst 
 behold me here. 
 Listen to me well, O mortal! 
 
68 MISCEr.LANEOUS P()f:MS. 
 
 Only once T pass yon portal 
 In a thousand years, and never yet did I to man 
 appear. 
 
 "Thou shalt learn from this chance meeting 
 What the waves have been repeating — 
 Thou shalt learn the wondrous secrets of the depths 
 that lie below. 
 My power shall turn back the pages 
 Of the long forgotten ages — 
 Thou shalt see what time has witnessed in the van- 
 ished long ago. 
 
 ''The lake to-nio-ht shall be a mirror — 
 
 Deeper, fairer, purer, clearer — 
 Than the earth in all the ages that are past did ever know ; 
 
 Time to-night, for you, is banished." 
 
 Saying this, she quickly vanished; 
 And I gazed into the mystic mirror that inviting 
 spread below. 
 
MISCKLLANKOUS POEMS. 69 
 
 Then I saw the ^i-and upheaval 
 Of tlie mighty crags primeval, 
 And a long forgotten ocean rolled its surges at their 
 feet ; 
 With no eye to see the wondei-s 
 And no ear to hear the thundei'S 
 
 As they on the ledges beat. 
 
 In majestic isolation, 
 
 'Mid chaotic desolation, 
 Rose the peaks that were forerunners of a continent to be. 
 
 While with hideous sounds, infernal, 
 
 Roared and raged the fires internal, 
 Ever breaking forth in tunmlt in their struggles to 
 be free. 
 
 Quickly vanished then the vision 
 To give place to scenes Elysian — 
 Hillsides clothed with magic splendor where the 
 ferns and palm trees grew. 
 
70 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Bat the skies above were clouded, 
 And in semi-darkness shrouded 
 Grew the strange and beauteous forest, though no 
 sun it ever knew. 
 
 Then again the scene was shifted, 
 And the night of time was lifted 
 From a world of desolation, from a world of ice and 
 snow. 
 A glacier through the gorge descended. 
 Whose walls of crystal clearness blended 
 
 With the waters far below. 
 
 Beneatli it rocks were soft and pliant. — 
 Like the cliisel of a giant 
 By a master workman wielded, slow it carved its 
 mighty bed. 
 Then, as though the sunlight fearing, 
 Slow before it disappearing 
 
 Left the lake then in its stead. 
 
The year draws near its close, and 8 11 the world 
 Is wrapped in silence; and a fleecy shrond 
 Conceals dead nature from the eyes of man; 
 The full orbed nioon looks thi-ouoh a veil of frost 
 And with uncertain ray jjives lioht to earth — 
 Thus dies the year in silence and in nijjht. 
 Thus many years have died since hirtli of Time, 
 Thus years to come shall pass, and leave a trace alone 
 Of all their trials and troubles, triumphs and defeats. 
 Upon Time's dial a year is a second only-- 
 Then let no longing look, no det^p regret, 
 No tears, no sorrow for what might have been 
 P'oUow the year that is gone, and gone for aye. 
 Hopes that were bright when this old year was young 
 
 Lie crushed and dead. 
 Lips that met with ours have touched the lips of death, 
 And faithless friends have friendship's trust betrayed. 
 War, pestilence and flood have claimed their victims; 
 Want and vice have laid their hand on many a trem- 
 bling wretch 
 And bade him walk with them. 
 
r^ MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Souls that weie spotless then are dyed with crimson 
 
 now, 
 And ruined hopes, and broken hearts that bleed, 
 And sorrowing, sin-burdened souls are all about — 
 Yet some that sorrowed then are joyful now. 
 Time dries all tears; at least some hopes have bloomed 
 And borne full fruit, even if some are dead. 
 The weary ones death touched are restintr now. 
 Bid the old year God speel — all hail the new! 
 Ko matter what it brings of hopes and fears — 
 Plopes born to die, or fears that are too true. 
 God wills it all, and what God wills is best — 
 And if, when tlii.s new ye.ii' shall come to aie 
 I can look back and say, "I have caut^ed no tears to 
 
 11'. w, 
 
 No deeds of mine have w^oiinde 1 sensitive hearts; 
 I have been true to God, to man, myself" — 
 All will be well. My duty done, 'tis safe 
 To leave all else to God. 
 
^rutb.-B meion. 
 I had a dream, if one could call it such — 
 I saw a picture, painted by an angel's touch 
 In colors most sublime; and all the night 
 Glowed with a pure and a most holy light; 
 And in the foreground of the picture stood 
 A being of the angelic sisterhood. 
 And while I wondered if I waked or slept 
 Behold, the being from the picture stepped 
 And, with soft voice, the solemn silence broke 
 And thus to me in silv'ry accents spgke — 
 
74 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 "Long hast thou sought me, burninor midnight oil 
 
 And cheating sleep in ever useless toil — 
 
 My name is Truth -look on my face," said she, 
 
 ''And tell me, mortal, what it is you see." 
 
 I raised mine eyes, that wonder had down-cast. 
 
 To gaze upon the face of Trnth at last. 
 
 But, lo! A mist concealed her face from me; 
 
 I strained mine eyes in vain --Alas, I could not see. 
 
 "Thou canst not see!" she cried in mockino- voice, 
 
 "That thou canst not, is reason to rejoice — 
 
 Ko man who draws life's feeble, fleeting breath 
 
 Can gaze upon my face and taste not Death; 
 
 Beyond Death's vale" — but then the spell 1 broke 
 
 And, trembling with amaze, 1 froin the dream awoke 
 
Xost. 
 Like the sunlight on a bower, 
 
 Like the moonlight on the sea, 
 Like the starlight on a flower, 
 
 Thoo hast gone away from me. 
 
 From the chambers of my heart, 
 Where thou didst reign, a queen. 
 
 Spirit like didst thou depart — 
 Like an angel in a dream. 
 
 Oh, the sunlight on tlie bower, 
 And the moonlight on the sea. 
 
 And the starlight on the flower. 
 May all come back to me. 
 
 But thou wilt come — no, never! 
 
 Thou art gone for evermore. 
 And the fairest dream that ever 
 
 Mortal dreanit, for me is o'er. 
 
IRemember tbe /llboonligbt. 
 
 When moonbeams are sparkling 
 
 O'er all the world darkling, 
 Oh, who would not linger beneath the soft light. 
 
 When to dark earth is given 
 
 A glory from Heaven 
 In the silence and hush of the beautiful night. 
 
 Oh, then in the gleaming 
 
 Of moonliglit, down -streaming, 
 I would happily linger, if thou wert with me. 
 
 When moonbeams are cheery, 
 
 Oh, who could grow weary 
 Of walking alone with the moonlight and thee. 
 
 We part, to my sorrow, 
 
 And I on the morrow- 
 Must mingle again with toil- driven men. 
 
 In the tumult and striving, 
 
 'Mid cares that are driving. 
 Oh, who would not sigh for the moonlight again! 
 
Itcibt anD Xove. 
 Light is the life of* the earth, 
 
 Light illumines the heavens above — 
 But the light of the human heart 
 
 Is the glorious light of love. 
 In Heaven love reigns supreme, 
 
 And e'en in the depths of hell 
 It softens the wretch's pain 
 
 To know that his loved ones dwell 
 Where that thrice holy beam 
 
 Around them sheds its light, 
 Whose absence makes for him 
 
 The bleak, eternal night. 
 
^farewell. 
 
 Farewell I Farewell! Yon Ic-ave us to-day, 
 The home of thy childhood forsaking; 
 
 And yet, as yon leave ns to go far away, 
 Forget not the hearts that are breaking. 
 
 The pain of the parting is keenest to thee, 
 Who home, friends and kindred art leaving; 
 
 Bnt thy grief 'mid new scenes soon forgotten will be, 
 While thy friends by the Grand are still grieving. 
 
 When 'mid scenes of enjoyment, where gay voices are, 
 
 In merriment, raised all about thee. 
 Forget not the friends, who from tliee afar, 
 
 Are waiting all lonely without thee. 
 
 Farewell and Godspeed! And wherever kind fate 
 Shall lead thee, we pray thon wilt never 
 
 Forget thy kind friends, who thy coming await 
 At thy home on the banks uf Grand River. 
 
XLo B /Iftountain Ipeak. 
 
 Hail to thee! Hail to thee! 
 
 Monarch of mountain peaks, 
 With time-furrowed forehead and tresses of snow; 
 
 Like a sentinel standing 
 
 Now and forever. 
 Guarding the beautiful valleys below. 
 
 Almost immutable, 
 
 Age cannot harm thee — 
 As thou'rt standing thou'lt stand until Time's course 
 is run. 
 
 And then, all unconquered, 
 
 At last thou shalt perish 
 Only when fadeth the stars and the sun. 
 
/nbemodal 2)a^. 
 Here, by the mound where the warrior reposes, 
 
 His battles all fought, his long marches done. 
 His resting place bright with the garlands of roses 
 
 Entwined with the laurels his valor has won. 
 Let us kneel and give thanks for the good he has 
 done for us; 
 
 Praise God for the freedom thac now is our own, 
 And vow to defend all the rights he has won for us, 
 
 Nur let Liberty's temple be rudely o'erthrown. 
 
 From four million bondsmen the shackles were shat- 
 tered. 
 
 And the starry flag waves o'er a land that is free. 
 The hosts that opposed it our warriors have scattered. 
 
 And Liberty's banner for aye shall it be. 
 In Liberty's name our blood shall defend it — 
 
 Nor tyrants find shelter beneath its bright fold. 
 Death to the traitor who dares try to rend it, 
 
 Or to him who would sell it to tyrants for gold. 
 
Beatb. 
 Death, Death, Death! 
 
 Why comest thou not to me ? 
 1 have felt thine icy breath, 
 
 And again I challenge thee. 
 
 Pome, Death! I have no fear — 
 Come quickly, while I wait; 
 
 Thou hast taken those most dear, 
 Why callest thou me so late? 
 
 No charms for me has life — 
 No joys to me can come; 
 
 I am weary of the strife 
 
 And long for my summons home. 
 
82 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Too late, too late, too late! 
 
 I sink 'neatb the cruel blows 
 Struck by the hand of Fate — - 
 
 For Fate and I are foes. 
 
 Xo more, no more, no more, 
 Shall 1 from her bonds be free; 
 
 Till at last, when all is o'er. 
 Kind Death shall rescue me. 
 
B tramp's Stor^. 
 Thanks, lady; Fve been on the road since morning — 
 
 I'm but a tramp that walks the railroad track, 
 Fit subject for your pity or your scorning; 
 
 Yet, once — but why call days forgotten back. 
 
 May I rest here and eat the food youVe given ? 
 
 A trilling favor, yet 'tis much, you know, 
 To one who knows not i-est, and hopes for none in 
 heaven ; 
 
 xlnd yet — and yet, it was not always so. 
 
 I was a miner once, hard working, straight and sober, 
 And never thought a tramp's lot would be mine, 
 
 Urtil one day— -I think 'twas in October, 
 'Way back iu the fall of fifty nine — 
 
 A family pitched their tent close by Jack Arthur's 
 shanty — 
 
 A shiftless chap the old man seemed to be — 
 They seemed hard up, their grub was mighty scanty. 
 
 One could have eaten what sufficed for three, 
 
84 MISCELLAKEOUS POEMS. 
 
 He had a wife, a pale faced coiuely woiiihh. 
 Married l)eneath ber, I have heard it said; 
 
 But now, with zeal that seemed most super- humpD, 
 She toiled amouor the miners for their daily bread. 
 
 She made some shirts for Jack, and so he got 
 acquainted 
 
 With little Ruth, one of our mountain girls; 
 A fairer being artist never painted. 
 
 From dainty foot to crown of wind-l)lown curls. 
 
 Just seventeen, but time had harshly treated 
 The face that older seemed by many years; 
 
 For bv her fireside care and want were seated 
 And on her face were traces left by tears. 
 
 Jack loved her well, with all that fond devotion 
 Impetuous youth showers on its first-found love — 
 
 Passion, resistless as the waves of ocean. 
 Affection, changeless as the stars above. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 85 
 
 And she loved Jack, yet she was but a woman 
 And, being such, was fickle, though so fair; 
 
 But Jack, who believed her somethiiig more than 
 human. 
 Looked in her eyes and saw but love-light there. 
 
 But she was faithless — so one night they parted; 
 
 Just as the golden twilight darkened into gray 
 Jack left her --haughty still, though broken hearted, 
 
 From her and happiness he turned away. 
 
 You smile, and doubt the story I've been telling — 
 I-m but a tramp beside the railroad track, 
 
 A worthless vagabond whom drink is swiftly killing; 
 That all is true, yet I — well, I am Jack. 
 
 ^^^ 
 
Colorado. 
 Come, iill the glasses to the brim 
 And touch them clinking rim to rim, 
 And drink a toast in sparkling wine 
 To our uncrowned queen by right divine. 
 
 Colorado, regal queen — 
 
 To thee thy bards their tribute bring; 
 Yet powerless fails the voice or pen 
 
 That of thy glories strives to sing. 
 Thy loyal subjects, bowing down 
 
 Before thy silver throne to-day, 
 Would crown thee with a golden crown 
 
 And hail thee as their queen for aye. 
 Land of majestic mountain peaks, 
 Of gloomy canons and of crystal Creeks; 
 Of solitudes — silent, vague and vast, 
 And scenic grandeur unsurpassed; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 87 
 
 Of parks and lakes, whose waters clear 
 Are undisturbed, save the timid deer 
 That pause for a moment on the brink 
 And of the cooling waters drink. 
 Thy purple peaks that tower on high — 
 Vast columns that support the sky — 
 Are books, upon whose leaves of stone 
 
 Enwritten by a mighty hand, 
 Are the grandest thoughts to man made known 
 
 In language all may understand. 
 Here man is man, and pampered power 
 
 Is scorned, as it deserves to be; 
 Unaided manhood rules the hour, 
 
 For in thy borders all are free. 
 Thy boundless plains that spread about 
 Make one's manhood widen out — 
 The untrammeled soul grows on until 
 The universe it seems to fill. 
 And in the distant depths of space 
 Meets the Creator face to face. 
 
nbovc tbe limorlO. 
 
 1 have climbed to the top of the mountain 
 
 And, standing all alone, 
 Dispute with the gray old eagle 
 
 His right to his rocky throne. 
 So he flies in circles above me, 
 
 He can still be higher than I; 
 While I still toil to the mountain top 
 
 He proudly soars to the sky. 
 
 Alone on the top of the mountain 
 
 With all tlie world below — 
 Alone 'mi<l the stern old granite crags 
 
 And the cold white drifts of snow; 
 Ai]d even the eagle is resting 
 
 On a cliff that is far below, 
 And now I am truly the monarch 
 
 Of the cracrs and drifts of snow. 
 L.ofC. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 89 
 
 A monarch, though but for a moment — 
 
 A king, for a pittance of time- 
 Yet never monarch before me 
 
 Had a kingdom so grand as mine. 
 Alexander wept when he'd conquered 
 
 A miserablt^ part of mankind; 
 I exult — not because I have slain men, 
 
 But because I have left them behind. 
 
I. MORNING. 
 
 Wild birds waking 
 
 And upward taking 
 Into tlie azure sky their flight. 
 
 Dew-drops sparkling, 
 
 iShadows darkling 
 In the last foot- prints of Night. 
 
 II. NOON. 
 
 Hot walls glaring, 
 
 Windows staring 
 Blankly at the sun- burned street. 
 
 Violets drooping. 
 
 Daisies stooping 
 'Neath their burden of the heat. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 91 
 
 HI. EVENING. 
 
 Homeward going, 
 
 Cattle lowing 
 In the roadways and the lanes. 
 
 Leng'thning shadows 
 
 On the meadows — 
 Mountain shadows on the plains 
 
 IV. NIGHT. 
 
 Day grows dimmer, 
 Faint stars glimmer — 
 
 The twilight follows the sun; 
 And slowly certain 
 Falls Night's curtain — 
 
 And the day at last is done. 
 
:lSei2on& tbe ClouDs. 
 Over the range is a country strange 
 'Neath summer skies that know no change. — 
 Fair forests grow, bright streamlets flow 
 Through the beautiful vales that lie below. 
 
 The country is zoned by mountains high — 
 Bleak clouds 'round their snow-clad summits lie: 
 Gloomy their canons, by cold winds kissed- 
 Dark their crags, 'mid enshrouding mist. 
 
 And all alone must the traveler go 
 Who would reach the beauteous vales ^below. 
 Helpless we stand as they pass away, 
 One by one, through the shadows gray. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 93 
 
 The cold wind comes from the snowy peaks 
 And kisses the coloi- from lips and cheeks. 
 
 We l)id them farewell and they pass from sight 
 'Mid the chilling mists of the mountains' height. 
 
 But, unseen to us, there's One to guide 
 Through the dreary pass to the other side. — 
 No matter how dark the journey seems 
 It leads to the Parks of the Living Streams. 
 
 And over the range, in that country strange, 
 'Neath summer skies tliat know no change. 
 Our loved ones wait; and soon or late 
 We'll meet beyond the mountains' gate. 
 
 '^^ 
 
IHU 
 
 S?, 
 
f.j^':%'\f.L^^^ 
 
 >°-^* 
 
 
 > ^^ 
 
 '^-^^ 
 
 !^' 
 

 
 
 
 HECKMAN 
 
 BINDERY INC. 
 
 ^ DEC 88 
 
 N. MANCHESTER, 
 INDIANA 46962