P s 
 
 Springiime 
 and Other Verses 
 
^m 
 
 Class ^K-M11_ 
 Book .i^^Sfe 
 
 CoplghtN". 
 
 ^10 
 
 CORfRIGHT DEPOSm 
 
 
 In 
 
 ■1 
 
tt)-i 
 
 
 Copyright 1910 
 
 by 
 
 Emily Coulten Pitman 
 
 ©C[.A;^?53i8 
 
^~ 
 
 Dedicated to 
 fe. 3. IB. 
 
Contents 
 
 Springtime ...... 9 
 
 A Summer Shower . . . 10 
 
 October ..... .11 
 
 Winter ...... 12 
 
 On the Golf Field . . .13 
 
 Summer is Nigh ..... 13 
 
 A Little Child .14 
 
 The Peter Bird . • } • 15 
 
 Song of the Thrush . . . .16 
 
 An Old Song ..... 16 
 
 A Misty Morning .17 
 
 West W^inds . 17 
 
 To Grow Old 18 
 
 A Woman's Love . 18 
 
 Music 19 
 
 The Silent Ship .... 19 
 
 A Little Stranger . .20 
 
 Telluride ...... 20 
 
 South-Bound ..... 22 
 
 Music 22 
 
 Unrest ....... 23 
 
 Vesper-Bells ..... 24 
 
 Life's Portion .24 
 
 Where Fairies Play .... 25 
 
 A Sleeping Child .26 
 
At Bay View ..... 26 
 
 Life . . . . . . .27 
 
 Hope . . . . . . . 27 
 
 Thoughts . . . . . . 28 
 
 Hypocrisy ...... 28 
 
 Hope 28 
 
 Grandmother . . . . . 29 
 
 Christmas Morning . . . .29 
 
 Little Lucy ..... 30 
 
 A Dream ....... 31 
 
 Love ....... 31 
 
 Dead Hope and Love . . . .32 
 
 Life's Mystery . . . . . 32 
 
 The Wandering Soul . . . . 33 
 
 Reminiscence ..... 33 
 
 The Old Home . . . . .34 
 
 The Mill 35 
 
 Life ....... 35 
 
 Country Lovers ..... 36 
 
 A Cute Youngster . . . . .37 
 
Springtime antr 0tf)tv Uergeg 
 
il 
 
Springtime anb 0tijtvVtV9it^ 
 
 Springtime 
 
 ^■THE barefoot boy can hardly wait, 
 
 VJ/ With his hook and line and can of bait, 
 
 To reach the stream where minnows play. 
 
 In the shadowy pool all the long day. 
 
 No pleasure so great, no time more dear, 
 
 When he knows by the signs that Spring is here. 
 
 A tender, gray green clothes the trees. 
 Swaying gently in the warming breeze. 
 The lark's sweet song, at early dawn; 
 The mowers reap the tufted lawn; 
 Awaking notes of Nature are near 
 From every side, for Spring is here. 
 
 White, fragrant blossoms of the locust-trees, 
 Now filled with busy, humming bees; 
 Small streams have grown into rushing rills. 
 The sunny air full of music thrills 
 To those fvho have a listening ear, 
 Need not be told that Spring is here. 
 
 The frogs' deep croak, from the marshy pond; 
 Birds' glad call from the woods beyond. 
 Burning brush scents the evening air. 
 Sweet odors come from everywhere. 
 Winds are bracing, cool and clear. 
 Days longer grow, for Spring is here. 
 
 In the warming sun, lambs skip and race 
 Over green meadows, where sun shadows chdj^. 
 Voices of children in the twilight at play, 
 Glad and happy at the close of day. 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 Glad to know 't is the time of year 
 When Winter 's gone, and Spring is here. 
 
 The answering notes from nesting bird, 
 
 From tree and hedge can now be heard, 
 
 They'll soon come forth with their downy brood. 
 
 Proud to see their kind renewed 
 
 By Nature's process, to them not clear. 
 
 'T is enough to know that Spring is here. 
 
 S Summer ^fjotoer 
 
 ^p'HE dust is rising from the village street. 
 ^l^ The air is quivering with blinding heat. 
 Flowers wilt, the grass is dry. 
 Birds seek the shade, too hot to fly. 
 Fowls sit with drooping wings; 
 Only the noisy jar- fly sings. 
 Beneath the burning, dazzling sun, 
 Small boys set forth, with joy to run 
 Across the meadow, to the little pool, 
 Where in they dash and grow quite cooJ. 
 
 Here comes the welcome refreshing breeze! 
 The muttering thunder, waving trees; 
 Soon the dust and raindrops meet. 
 Then comes to us a scent most sweet — 
 An earthy perfume, pure of tone, 
 Sweeter far than hay new-mown. 
 Thus swiftly comes our Summer shower. 
 'T is here, and gone within an hour, 
 Leaving sweet fragrance everywhere. 
 Makes clean and clear the balmy air. 
 
 10 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 tE 
 
 d^ctober 
 
 HE sumach flaunts its leaves of red; 
 
 It does not seem that they are dead. 
 The Autumn winds will bring them down, 
 Soon to molder on the ground. 
 
 The fields are brown; the corn in shocks 
 Invites the hungry quail in flocks. 
 Nature is resting. A dreamy haze 
 Hangs over the cool October days. 
 
 The feeble chirp of insect life 
 Sounds sad and lonely. The air is rife 
 With hunting-trail in the distance calling; 
 On deep leaves the ripened nuts are falling. 
 
 The red, old-gold and yellow leaves, 
 The waving woof that Autumn weaves, 
 The frosty morn, the soft noon sun, 
 The cooling air when day is done. 
 
 Red vines cover the old rail-fence; 
 The air is filled with woodsy scents. 
 The silky milkweed sails away. 
 This dreamy, hazy, October day. 
 
 11 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 1® inter 
 
 ^#^LD Boreas, with his frosty locks, 
 w^ 'Twixt tempest-stirring equinox, 
 Has come again with blighting hand, 
 To shroud in frosty robes the land. 
 
 Each little wayside bush and weed. 
 Draped in gowns so thin, they need, 
 Besides the filmy, frosty white. 
 Warmer ones for the Winter night. 
 
 The waving branches of trees so bare. 
 Like arms outstretched in mad despair. 
 Twist and twirl in the night- winds bleak. 
 As 't were in pain the branches creak. 
 
 Moon-shadows quiver on the glistening snow. 
 As the branches above wave to and fro 
 To the rhythm of tempestuous nights so wild. 
 Like the wailing cry of a fretful child. 
 
 'T is now the home affection truly glows. 
 
 When without the frosted pane more dreary grows 
 
 The short and darkening day. Draw near the 
 
 hearth. 
 'T is home the place where love dwells — Heaven 
 
 on earth! 
 
 J2 
 
SP RINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 0n tfje #dU jFitlh 
 
 JjjLUE skies above, green fields below, 
 ?P Merrily round the links they go, 
 Green fields bejow, blue skies above, 
 The fairest place for making love. 
 
 Merrily round the links they go, 
 Shining eyes and cheeks aglow, 
 While flickering o'er the tufted green, 
 Shifting shadows may be seen. 
 
 She steps" with dainty, high-bred air, 
 Sun-kissed cheeks, and wind-blown hair. 
 Shyly round the field they play — 
 Two games at once, that happy day. 
 
 Merrily round the links they go; 
 The Western sky with sunset glow 
 Falls on the scene; the day is done. 
 Two games are played — which has won ? 
 
 Summer 3g ^iQii 
 
 MHEN bluebirds mate in early Spring, 
 And meadowlarks are on the wing. 
 And South winds come a-whispering, 
 
 And Robin Redbreast sings of love. 
 The wailing notes are heard above 
 The gentle cooing of the dove. 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 Clear streams gurgle with gladsome trill; 
 
 A tender verdure covers vale and hill; 
 
 Night brings the call of the lone whippoorwill. 
 
 The plow upturns the fragrant earth; 
 The fertile seed will soon give birth 
 To slender blades of goodly worth. 
 
 Bees are abroad 'neath the calling sky; 
 Red tints of apple-blooms greet the eye. 
 All Nature is shouting, "Summer is nigh." 
 
 !a Zittle Cljilb 
 
 •JJ^EAR little boy, with eyes so blue, 
 7^ Happy and gfad the whole day through. 
 Only three years of life you 've had 
 In w^hich to learn good from bad. 
 
 Older ones must fight each day 
 The faults within us that have full sway. 
 Still we must strive life's journey through. 
 Patient, little boy, we should be with you. 
 
 Away down deep in your eyes so clear 
 Is a wonder light — strange things you hear. 
 Everywhere from earth to skies. 
 Puzzling that little head so wise. 
 
 Pure little soul, with facei so dear. 
 Such a short while since coming here — 
 Into this world where all is new — 
 Should we expect so much from you ? 
 
 14 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 Laugh and play the whole day long, 
 While your heart is merry and life 's a song. 
 Dream happy dreams of childhood, the while 
 Angels watch over thee, darling child! 
 
 ^irHERE'S no music any sweeter 
 vl/ Than the music of the Peter 
 As he sings with perfect meter, 
 **Peter, Peter, Peter." 
 
 His notes so bold and cheer. 
 Should the day be dark and drear, 
 "Rest assured 't will soon be clear," 
 Sings the tuneful Peter. 
 
 Be it Wintertime or Spring, 
 This little strain he'll sing. 
 With a joyous vim and ring, 
 "Peter, Peter, Peter." 
 
 15 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 ^ons of tf)e tirtrus^i) 
 
 3f^ HEN day is done, and evening still, 
 XC^ O'er the dusky lawn fireflies bright, 
 'T is then is heard the brown thrush trill 
 
 In sweet, low tones far into shadowy night, 
 A touching melody, strange and sad. 
 
 Mingling with the dewy scented air; 
 'T would not blend with songs more glad 
 
 Heard in the early morning fair. 
 
 When other birds have sung themselves to sleep 
 
 Or flown away into their place of rest. 
 When twilight deepens and the shadows creep. 
 
 The tuneful thrush, as from a sorrowing breast. 
 Pours forth those plaintive notes again — 
 
 Touching, oft repeated — as if to learn the part 
 He knows so well, a wild untutored strain, 
 
 Pleading and tender — above melodious Art. 
 
 lan ©lb ^ons 
 
 <y WF.F.T music on the air so mute 
 ^S' Comes to me faintly from afar. 
 It is the sound of lonely flute 
 And light guitar. 
 
 What is there in this simple song 
 That stirs my heart to sadness .^ 
 
 To other days it must belong 
 
 When all was joy and gladness. 
 
 16 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 ^ jWfetp iWarnina 
 
 JlpHE morning air is chill, 
 
 ^£1^ A gray mist hangs o'er tree and hill. 
 
 In fairy fringes, like a net 
 
 Spun silken fine, dank and wet. 
 
 No voice of rippling rill or bird, 
 
 Only a sigh and sob is heard, 
 
 As the heart of Nature silently broods 
 
 In one of her dreary, restless moods. 
 
 Wit^i WiXxfiA 
 
 ^ROM out of the West 
 Jl Comes the wind that is best, 
 With a tingling of the Rockies' snow. 
 It makes the heart beat strong 
 While the soul sings a song. 
 Blow, brave West winds, blow! 
 
 Take a morning in June, 
 
 With the birds all atune. 
 The flower-ladened garden aglow, 
 
 Breathe deep down the chest, 
 
 'T is the very, very best. 
 The West winds that blow, blow, blow. 
 
 17 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 Co (groto 0lh 
 
 MHAT is it to grow old?' 
 To feel the heart grow cold. 
 While love steals silently away, 
 And life grows dull and gray. 
 When affection we most crave. 
 Those we loved are in the grave. 
 
 !a Wiomm'i lobe 
 
 QT WOMAN, if she loves a man, 
 X^ Has no thought for any other; 
 But a man may love one woman 
 With the warmth of an August noon. 
 At the same time feel for a dozen more 
 Like a soft Southwind in June. 
 While a woman's love is tender and true, 
 A man is **off with the old and on with the 
 new." 
 
 18 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 ^4^0 words to tell 
 3)% The hopes that dwell 
 Within my heart. 
 Let music's part. 
 With some sweet strain, 
 Plead not in vain 
 "To reach my soul." 
 
 Touch me to tears 
 With hope and fears; 
 Let music plead, 
 Whate'er I need. 
 To lead the way. 
 At last it may 
 "Reach my soul." 
 
 W^t Silent ^f)ip 
 
 3T is well, it is well, we know not the day, 
 The ship awaits to bear us away 
 Across the waters, to an unknown shore, 
 From which we return nevermore, nevermore. 
 
 It is well, it is well! Would we gladly go? 
 
 In the black-sailed ship — where, we do not know 
 
 Will the watch call out, "All is well," 
 
 When we reach the land where we shall dwoll? 
 
 19 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 ^ Hittle Stranger 
 
 (W LITTLE stranger came to us from where 
 
 ^vl- 1 know not — he was so very bare, 
 
 With not a stitch of clothing to his name. 
 
 Yet with a loud persistent voice he did proclaim 
 
 His presence. "Name," said I ? No name had he. 
 
 Yet had the ways of royalty. 
 
 All else must stop, and one and all 
 
 Stand ready for his beck and call. 
 
 His Royal Highness must be fed. 
 
 Bathed, clothed, then snugly tucked in bed. 
 
 At last the shaded light falls on his downy cot. 
 
 He 's here to stay ; no one dare say him not, 
 
 For mother's smile rests on the little heap 
 
 Where her precious baby now lies fast asleep. 
 
 ^^><r 
 
 tCetturibe 
 
 ^HE little town of Telluride, 
 
 Vj/ With lofty mountains on every side, 
 
 Streets so clean and water pure, 
 
 Shut in so quiet and secure 
 
 From the outside world, save once a day, 
 
 A train pulls in from far away. 
 
 From over mountains, grand canyons through. 
 
 When looking up, only a ribbon of blue 
 
 Can be seen, through towering turrets of stone. 
 
 Where by earth's convulsions they were thrown, 
 
 20 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 Of the little town and types one meets, 
 When wandering up and down the streets, 
 The miner gray, who is bent and old. 
 Given youth and health in his hunt for gold. 
 Strange-looking children, silent and shy. 
 With wizen faces, and downcast eye. 
 Their lives are spent on the mountains wild, 
 A dismal loneliness for a little child. 
 They gather the pinks and roses sweet, 
 Offering them shyly as we pass on the street. 
 
 Here it is restful — soothed to sleep 
 
 By whispering winds, through canyons deep. 
 
 The gentle tinkle of the clear waterfall. 
 
 As it tumbles down the mountain's wall. 
 
 Sleep and dream, forget the life 
 
 Where all are struggling to gain by strife 
 
 Wealth, position, somewhat of renown. 
 
 'T were better far, in this mountain town. 
 
 To rest awhile e'er we go hence. 
 
 To make for ourselves some recompense. 
 
 21 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 ^HEN 'tis Fall of the year, 
 
 fit/ And frost-time is near, 
 
 Feathered songsters of every shade and hue 
 
 Sit in flocks together. 
 
 And chatter of the weather, 
 In their Winter coats so bright and new. 
 
 Then the time is near at hand, 
 
 When this merry little band 
 Will have spread their wings and flew 
 
 To the sunny land of flowers. 
 
 Where 'midst sweet, rosy bowers. 
 Glad songs they'll sing the whole day through. 
 
 There no Winter's snow and sleet 
 
 Can frost their tiny feet — 
 Only balmy air, and skies of clearest blue. 
 
 O^o^s/T 
 
 iHusic 
 
 i^ftUSIC fills the heart with gladness, 
 jS^y Stirs the soul with pure delight, 
 Touches chords of weary sadness. 
 Tells us life is not all bright. 
 
 A mother's gentle crooning tone, 
 
 Soothing to the infant ear. 
 Minor strains that sadly moan. 
 
 Calling thoughts of those most dear. 
 
 22 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 The bugle-call, the drum and fife 
 Speak to hearts loyal and brave. 
 
 Who gladly give all in this life, 
 
 Filling with honor the soldier's grave. 
 
 ®[nres;t 
 
 yjt^NLY a bird's nest tumbled down, 
 
 Ul? From out the tree now bare and brown, 
 
 Lies in my pathway on the ground. 
 
 The birds have flown, mother and mate. 
 I have none left to share my fate, 
 My home is e'en more desolate. 
 
 Springtime will come again. 
 
 Soft winds, sunshine and Summer rain, 
 
 Birds sweetly sing their glad refrain. 
 
 Will life then much sadder be .^ 
 Can no glad song awake for me 
 This long and lonely reverie.? 
 
 Flowers will bloom, and birds will sing, 
 Through sunlit woods glad voices ring, 
 To my lone heart glad hope will bring. 
 
 23 
 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 SONG, dong! Bells are calling! 
 Sweetly falling, 
 On my listening ear. 
 So loud and clear. 
 Calling, calling! 
 
 Dong, dong! Come to prayer! 
 
 Comes on the air. 
 In tones that plead 
 To those who need, 
 
 Calling, Calling! 
 
 Dong, dong! List to the bells! 
 
 Their music tells, 
 Of that sweet time 
 When first their chime 
 
 Seemed calling, calling! 
 
 ILife'g portion 
 
 ^fiL |OME walk through life with lonely hearts, 
 SJ^ Always sad, always sad. 
 Some gain in life the better parts, 
 
 Always glad, always glad. 
 Some are wronged, misunderstood. 
 
 Sad the while, sad the while. 
 Others reach all that's good. 
 
 Life to beguile, life to beguile. 
 
 24 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 Life's lessons we must learn 
 
 For our good, for our good. 
 Does the sad or gay heart yearn 
 
 For what they should ? what they should ? 
 Life's portions roughly east, the finer part 
 
 Must be work, must be work. 
 For the glad or lonely heart, 
 
 None may shirk, none may shirk. 
 
 OTfiere jFairieg $Iap 
 
 ^^HERE do the fairies play? 
 ^ ll/ Not in the sunlit day, 
 Nor the dim starlight 
 Of a Summer night. 
 
 Where moonbeams in showers 
 Fall on sweet flowers, 
 There's where they'll be. 
 Playing glad and free. 
 
 On the seashore sands, 
 In gay, circling bands. 
 They trip it light and free 
 To the murmur of the sea. 
 
 25 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 ^ Sleeping Ci)tlb 
 
 LEEP on, fair child! 
 Thy life journey is at hand. 
 In thy slumber, why smiled 
 
 Thou ? Didst dream of some fair land 
 Where is found the balm of rest, 
 
 Swathed about with tender love and care. 
 Dreaming sweetly in thy downy nest 
 
 Of thy young mother, fair ? 
 
 As yet thy waking hours and sleep 
 
 Are but as one to thee. 
 Thou know'st not time to lose or keep, 
 
 Thy young spirit is but newly from eternity. 
 All too soon thy dreams may be 
 
 Of mimic battles — scenes both strange and 
 sad; 
 Such in after years thou may'st live to see. 
 
 Sleep on, fair child! May thy dreams be glad! 
 
 ^|r|f|IDST the bracken and the pines, 
 jTvl' With the stillness all around, 
 Here a restful place one finds. 
 Sweet beds upon the ground. 
 
 Pine-trees whisper in soothing tones. 
 To purest air and bluest sky. 
 
 A clear brook ripples over stones. 
 Within its mossy banks near by. 
 
 26 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 Fall asleep and gently dream. 
 
 Sunlight shimmering through the trees, 
 Laughing waters from the stream. 
 
 Wafted to us on the breeze. 
 
 Then a stroll through shaded pathway, 
 
 As the evening's coming on. 
 Watch the sunset 'cross the bay 
 
 And golden waves for out beyond. 
 
 Hear the night-birds lonely calling. 
 As swift the water's edge they skim; 
 
 Soon the afterglow is falling. 
 Into dusky twilight dim. 
 
 Hife 
 
 'jrlFE is filled with varied dreams; 
 J^ Friendship's ties must often part. 
 Is joy and gladness what it seems .? 
 
 Smiles sometimes hide a breaking heart. 
 
 ?|ope 
 
 ^■r^HERE are days of joy, and days of grief, 
 ^ And days of calm delight. 
 But ever 't is the sweet belief 
 Bright days will follow night. 
 
 27 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 A^UR lives are, as we older grow, 
 ^SP^ Midst our joys and sorrows, 
 Like a golden sunset afterglow, 
 That tells of pleasant morrows. 
 
 ^irHE thoughts that in the mind and heart 
 ^u^ We see in form and features 
 In those who'd play a saintly part. 
 Yet no less are sinful creatures. 
 
 ^■THERE 'S a touch of heartache everywhere, 
 ^fcl^ The soul's oft racked with sorrow. 
 Our burden oft too much to bear. 
 Sweet hope we then must borrow. 
 
 28 
 
/ 
 
 SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 >gRANDMOTHER sits in her easy-chair. 
 v^ Such a dear, sweet face, and snowy hair. 
 Parted and brushed down close to her ears. 
 Just as she's worn it for many years. 
 She's an old-fashioned grandmother, sure enough, 
 Who would scorn to wear a rat or a puff; 
 But do not believe for even a minute. 
 If there's real fun going, she's not in it. 
 She has clear brown eyes, and as clear a mind 
 On recent topics as one could find. 
 A word of cheer for those who are sad, 
 A kindly smile for those who are glad. 
 In the sunny window where she often sits. 
 And with dear old hands so patiently knits 
 The daintiest garments, for old and young. 
 But hist! she'll not have her praises sung. 
 Still much more could be said, for she's a dear- 
 Life is much better for her presence here. 
 
 c^yfh/r 
 
 Cljrfetmas iWornms 
 
 CHRISTMAS morning is here at last! 
 Blow, tiny horns, and trumpets blast. 
 The little ones have found their toys. 
 Proceed at once to make much noise. 
 Half-awake, and listening the night before, 
 For the reindeers' prancing feet at the door. 
 
 29 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 i, Mother, too, is happy, in her quiet way, 
 ' Cherishing fondly each gift of the day. 
 She has home and affection, and that perfect love, 
 Which comes from within, is a gift from above. 
 The love of her children — to be truly a wife, 
 V Quite fills heart and soul of a woman's life. 
 
 Father's eyes beam, with the season's good cheer. 
 Surrounded by all he holds sweet and dear. 
 His gifts he surveys with a critical eye, 
 Yet he will not be critical; he'd sooner die; 
 To use them or wear them, he sincerely fears, 
 Would positively bring most men to tears. 
 
 Hittle Hucp 
 
 Tff ITTLE Lucy was buried 'neath the snow of 
 
 J^ December, 
 
 Long years ago; but well I remember 
 
 The little white coffin — the dear sweet face, 
 
 The folded hands, as if saying her grace. 
 
 The house was so still, all were so sad. 
 It seemed we could never wish to be glad. 
 A pure- white soul had taken its flight — 
 The sunniest day seemed dark as night. 
 
 We laid her away 'neath the snow softly falling, 
 Our grief-stricken hearts loudly calling 
 For the precious child we loved so well — 
 Why should she be taken .? Who could tell .^ 
 
 30 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 Years have gone by, she has grown with the years 
 A sacred memory — but no longer with tears 
 Do we call back that sweet spirit, pure as the snow. 
 Beneath which we laid her long ago. 
 
 a ©ream 
 
 (WGAIN my head rests on my mother's arm, 
 
 ^^4- Snug, close, secure, away from harm. 
 
 In sweetest tones, so low and deep. 
 
 She bids me sleep, bids me sleep. 
 
 While tender eyes adown upon me beam — 
 
 Ah, 't is but a dream! 't is but a dream! 
 
 I dream again — and feel my mother's arm enfold 
 My baby form. Ah, now I'm old! 
 What ecstatic joy to me 't would bring. 
 Could I but hear once more that sweet voice sing 
 Me to slumber sweet, slumber sweet! 
 
 Hobe 
 
 €YES softly beaming, 
 Voice love-laden— seeming 
 To caress, enfold, feeling 
 Soul to soul appealing. 
 Heart-strings tuning to glad songs 
 Seeking out where Love belongs. 
 
 31 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 BeaF llope anb Hobe 
 
 ^^HEN hope is dead, and love no more 
 fifc^ Fills the heart with pure delight, 
 When sorrows shadow o'er the day-dreams, 
 
 Make of life one endless night, 
 Not a star-gleam out of darkness, 
 
 Cheers the soul, or lights the way. 
 Over troubled weary waiting, 
 
 For the light of day. 
 Yet lives are lived without love. 
 
 True hearts blighted and lone, 
 Wandering on in saddened longing. 
 
 For the lost love that's gone. 
 
 DO not know — 
 Doubts come and go. 
 
 Life's here today ; 
 
 Tomorrow gone away. 
 
 We drink of sorrow; 
 
 Long for the morrow 
 
 A glimpse of gay to bring. 
 
 Once more we sing. 
 
 'T is love and wrath 
 
 As down the path 
 
 Of life's short day. 
 
 Then out and away. 
 
 Ah! could it be 
 
 Less a mystery .^ 
 
 32 
 
 3 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 JtrHERE are days when the soul seems far away, 
 
 ^^ Gone forth, as it were astray. 
 
 Vague voices call from the dim past. 
 
 Beckoning us — where ? Our thoughts run fast. 
 
 Is it some lost thing from life we miss, 
 
 A gladness of heart — a kiss, 
 
 That should have been ours, 
 
 A little token — a bunch of flowers ? 
 
 'T is all like shadowy dreams. 
 
 We can not reason whv thus it seems. 
 
 1/ 
 
 3Reminis(cence 
 
 (2f NEW moon hangs in the Western sky; 
 
 (sX A cricket sings in the grass near by, 
 
 A sleepy South wind comes and goes, 
 
 Bringing the scent of the sweet June rose 
 
 From the old-fashioned garden, where a tangled 
 
 mass 
 Of pinks, sweet peas, and ribbon-grass, 
 Grow in wild confusion, side by side. 
 Sending forth their fragrance, far and wide. 
 'T was just such a moon, 't was just such a night. 
 Long years ago, in the soft twilight. 
 When daylight died into sunset glow, 
 In the dear old garden we walked to and fro; 
 We walked together — long, long years — 
 'Til death parted. our pathway, mid silent tcars» 
 
 33 
 
/ 
 
 SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 A^UR young folks are married, have homes of 
 
 ^tt^ their own, 
 
 Just Father and I left here all alone. 
 
 No more merry whistling, or careless bit of song, 
 
 From early in the morning, and all day long. 
 
 There is quiet in the old home; and when the moon 
 
 rides high. 
 And slow shifting shadows cross the Winter sky, 
 We 've such a sense of loneliness, we seem to need 
 
 them here, 
 Our lives to brighten, and our old hearts to cheer. 
 Oh yes, they come to visit us, but they are not the 
 
 same; 
 They 've changed in every way, when they changed 
 
 their name. 
 We would not have it otherwise, we know it's life, 
 
 and right 
 That they should make new homes, and make them 
 
 glad and bright. 
 It's when we need them most, the problem is not 
 
 clear. 
 How can they be so happy, when far away from 
 
 here ? 
 
 34 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 Cfje Mil 
 
 (WLL day long, when the air was still, 
 
 sX Came the constant hum from the old red mill, 
 
 Where it nestled down at the foot of the hill. 
 
 When tasks were done and 't was time for play, 
 'T was down by the mill, the long Summer's day — 
 By the shy little stream that laughed on its way. 
 
 There we hunted the dewberries, luscious and 
 
 sweet ; 
 The kind old miller filled our pockets w^th wheat — 
 The days were happy, and time was fleet. 
 
 The wild flowers beckoned, birds chanted above — 
 All the merriest songsters — and the gentle ringdove. 
 Ah, 't was surely a spot to remember with love: 
 Down by the old red mill. 
 
 (WlK.E the vanities of life satisfying.? 
 
 ^vl Does not the soul keep crying 
 
 For better things thought and labor brings ? 
 
 He who lives with constant care 
 
 Learns patiently to bear, , 
 
 To feel, when day is done, 
 
 Out of life's struggle has won. 
 
 Are we here to shirk, or do the Master's work 
 
 Each minute, hour and day ? 
 
 Life is not given all for play. 
 
 35 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 Countrp Hoberg 
 
 ^■tHE sun has set, 't is growing late; 
 
 ^ii^ Jennie's waiting at the gate. 
 
 She dreads to hear her mother calling, 
 
 "Come in the house; the dew is falling." 
 
 She much prefers to stand and wait 
 
 For Ephraim's coming at the gate. 
 
 Once inside the house, she knows 
 
 The father's talk will be, "How grows 
 
 The crops ?'' and "How's your mule .?" 
 
 And mother will talk of Sunday-school, 
 
 While Ephraim twists, and scarcely dare 
 
 Glance at Jennie's soft brown hair. 
 
 Or note the lovelight in her eyes. 
 
 For the old people are the veriest spies: 
 
 Can discover as much by a look or word. 
 
 As though a long conversation they'd heard. 
 
 The old saying that "What can't be cured 
 
 Must," silently, patiently, "be endured." 
 
 So these young lovers do not repine, 
 
 But quietly wait the stroke of nine. 
 
 When father will say, "'T is bedtime quite," 
 
 And mother bid softly a kind good-night. 
 
 Alone at last, these lovers so shy — 
 
 'T was ever outrageous on such scenes to spy. 
 
 36 
 
SPRINGTIME AND OTHER VERSES 
 
 a Cute gounggter 
 
 .ERE is my little foxy boy, 
 Full of life, full of joy. 
 All day long he runs and plays. 
 That's the way he spends his days. 
 Once he climbed a tulip-tree, 
 Called his Daddy to come and see. 
 Daddy ran quick, saw such a sight. 
 His little boy upset quite. 
 His feet were up, his head was down, 
 In great danger of breaking his crown. 
 He loves his dogs, his cats, his chicks. 
 Loves among them all to mix. 
 He often rides his pony, too — 
 The one he named Kentucky Sue. 
 He loves his Daddy most, I'm sure. 
 Unless he has a pain to cure. 
 Then Mother dear is best of any. 
 For no one else would he give a penny. 
 
 37 
 
One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
 
 1® 19i^ 
 
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1 
 
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